Senate. So once more he found himself wondering: Did Plagueis have an ulterior motive for
He wanted Kim’s death to be viewed as a message. But by whom? Perhaps Palpatine was meant to be the recipient. When Plagueis said that many of the Senators were expendable, that they retained their seats only because of him, was he, in the same breath, saying that Palpatine, even as Sidious, was also expendable, easily replaced by another Forceful apprentice? While the Muun encouraged transparency in Palpatine, he sometimes made himself opaque. Would he at some point bequeath all his knowledge to his apprentice, or would he hold back, merely to keep the upper hand?
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Palpatine,” Kim said in a rush, ushering him into an office cluttered with data disks and flimsi printouts, and smelling of sweat, stale air, spoiling food. Tall windows opposite the hardwood entry doors overlooked the palace, including the new tower that Tapalo — in accordance with tradition — had constructed on being elected monarch.
“What I have to say will place you at some risk, but there’s no one I trust more than you.” Kim was in constant motion while he spoke, moving from his desk to the windows and back again. “I’m not entirely sure that this office is secure, but we have to take the chance.”
Palpatine concealed a frown of misgiving and gestured to the couch. “Please, Vidar, sit and unburden yourself.”
Kim came to a halt, exhaled wearily, and did as Palpatine suggested. His face was drawn, his hair in disarray, his normally neat beard and mustache in need of grooming.
“Palpatine, I have good reason to suspect that Tapalo and Veruna arranged the crash that claimed the lives of my family.”
Palpatine’s surprise was sincere. “Vidar, the crash was investigated and ruled an accident. Some problem with the antigrav—”
“Accidents can be faked — planned! You’ve piloted speeders ever since I’ve known you. You know that systems can be sabotaged.”
Palpatine sat down opposite him. “What possible motive would they have for killing your family?”
Kim’s bloodshot eyes fixed on him. “I know their dirty secrets, Palpatine. I know about the payments they’ve been receiving from the Trade Federation since Tapalo took office. The laws they’ve enacted to open all of Naboo to survey and plasma exploitation. I know about the deals they struck with certain members of the electorate to engineer Tapalo’s unprecedented victory in the last election.”
“Even so,” Palpatine said after a moment, “why would they bring your family into this?”
Kim all but growled. “By relieving me of my plenary duties they risk angering many of the royals who support me. Instead they hope to
“Tapalo would know better than to attempt such a despicable act.”
“You give him too much credit. The crash was meant to be a message to me. But it had the opposite effect.”
“How so?” Palpatine said, leaning toward him.
“I’m leaving for Coruscant this afternoon. And my first act will be to notify the Jedi Order.”
Palpatine sat up straight. “Vidar, the Jedi listen only to the Senate and the Supreme Chancellor. You can’t simply walk into the Temple—”
“I’ll contact the members of the Council through my son. If I can convince Ronhar to leave the Order, the information will be my gift to the Jedi.”
“And suppose Ronhar doesn’t want any part of this.” Palpatine crossed his arms across his chest. “Have you even been able to speak with him? It’s my understanding that Jedi aren’t permitted contact with their parents.”
Kim scowled and studied the carpet. “Regardless, I was able to make contact.”
“And?”
Kim’s expression was cheerless when he looked up. “He told me that I’m a stranger to him, and that the Kim name has no significance for him.”
Palpatine sighed. “Then that’s the end of it.”
“No. He has agreed to speak with me in person on Coruscant. I’m determined to convince him, Palpatine. Family
Palpatine bit back what he was about to say and began again. “Will you promise to keep me informed? Or at least let me know how to reach you?”
Kim went to the desk and sorted through the mess until he found the flimsi he was looking for. “This is my itinerary for the coming week,” he said, passing the flimsi to Palpatine. “Palpatine, if something untoward should happen to me on Coruscant …”
“Stop, Vidar. We’re getting way ahead of ourselves.”
Kim ran a hand over his head. “You’re right.” He returned to the couch and sat. “Palpatine, we’re too close in age for me to have thought of you as a son, but I do consider you the younger brother I never had.”
Palpatine nodded without a word.
“If I fail to get through to Ronhar or the Jedi, I can at least alert my colleagues on the Senate Investigatory Committee.”
Palpatine restrained an impulse to stand. “I think you’re wrong about Tapalo and Veruna, Vidar. But I can say without hesitation that you will be risking your life by making such accusations public.”
“I’m perfectly aware of that, Palpatine. But if Ronhar rejects my plea, what else will I have to live for?”
Palpatine placed his hand on Kim’s shoulder.
By the time he left Kim’s office the weather had turned sharply colder. Snow flurries were swirling around the palace towers, and the shallows to the Solleu tributaries were sheened with ice. The agent from Coruscant whom Plagueis had provided — Sate Pestage — was waiting in a small plaza behind the Parnelli Art Museum, warming his hands with his breath.
“The Naboo have never heard of climate control?” he commented as Palpatine approached.
Recalling his early conditioning sessions on glacial Mygeeto, Palpatine almost laughed at the man’s remarks. Instead he said, “Radical change has always come slowly to this world.”
Pestage cast a glance at the stately columns that enclosed the domed museum. “No doubt about that.”
Slightly taller and older than Palpatine, he was sinewy and capable looking. His brown eyes were close-set and glistening, and his pointed nose and angular cheekbones were emphasized by black hair that had receded from his forehead and temple. Plagueis had mentioned that Pestage had been born in Daplona on Ciutric IV — an industrialized ecumenopolis outside of which Darths Bane and Zannah had once lived secret lives. Plagueis hadn’t revealed how he had discovered Pestage — perhaps Damask Holdings had had dealings with Pestage’s influential and extensive family — but he had said that Pestage was someone Palpatine might want to consider adding to his growing entourage of aides and confidants.
From the pocket of his robe, Palpatine prized the flimsi Vidar Kim had given him and handed it over. “His itinerary for Coruscant.”
“Perfect.” Pestage slipped the flimsi into his pocket.
“I want you to wait until his business on Coruscant is concluded.”
“Whatever you say.”
“He’s threatening to alert the Jedi Order and the Senate Investigatory Committee about various deals that were made.”
Pestage snorted. “Then he deserves everything that’s coming to him.” He scanned their surroundings without moving his head. “Have you made a decision about who to use from the data I supplied?”
“The Maladians,” Palpatine said.
A group of highly trained humanoid assassins, they had struck him as the obvious choice.
Pestage nodded. “Can I ask why?”
Palpatine wasn’t accustomed to having to justify his decisions, but answered regardless. “The Mandalorian
