Darth Plagueis

Sifo-Dyas grew uneasy. “The Rotunda is an arena even we don’t enter,” he said in a level voice, “except as spectators.”

Plagueis could not restrain a smile. “But you have, from time to time, been known to lobby.” He continued before Sifo-Dyas or Dooku could answer. “It can be a circus. One thing is certain, however: the Core is not holding. New leadership is needed.”

“Darus will undoubtedly be elected to another term,” Dooku said.

Plagueis pretended concern. “Is there no one who can defeat him, Master Dooku?”

“Frix, possibly. Kalpana — eventually. At present he isn’t strong enough to overcome the special-interest lobbies.”

Sifo-Dyas’s unease increased. “We are sworn not to take an active role, in any case.”

“Kalpana would certainly set a different tone,” Plagueis said, “but perhaps an equally risky one. His stance against piratism, smuggling, even slavery is well known. Unfortunately, many of the outer systems survive only because of such practices.”

“Then those worlds will have to find alternative means,” Sifo-Dyas said.

Plagueis turned to him. “Without assistance from the Republic? It begins to sound to me as if the Jedi will have their work cut out for them.”

Sifo-Dyas compressed his lips. “The Judicials and the Jedi will maintain peace.”

“There’s certainty in your voice,” Plagueis said. “But let me pose a question: If discontent spreads and intersystem conflict breaks out — if member worlds threaten secession, as Serenno threatened in times past — would your loyalties not be divided?”

“The Republic will be preserved.”

Plagueis grinned. “Again, that comforting confidence. But suppose the Republic’s goals were not in keeping with the greater good? Suppose conflict grew to become actual schism?”

The two Jedi traded looks. “In the absence of armies there can be no war,” Dooku said.

“Are the Jedi not an army — or at least capable of becoming one should the need arise?”

“We were an army at one time, but our enemies were vanquished,” Sifo-Dyas said with deliberate vagueness. “No matter the extent of the conflict, we would attempt to forge a peace — and without becoming the ruling body you seem to fear.”

Plagueis didn’t reply immediately. Sifo-Dyas was proving to be even more interesting than Dooku, though in a different way. Only a misguided sense of loyalty to the Jedi Order kept him from giving voice to the real extent of his apprenhensions.

“And yet you say forge a peace. That has the ring of semantics to it, Master Sifo- Dyas. But for the sake of argument, what if the disaffected systems raised an army? Wouldn’t the Jedi be obligated to serve and protect the Republic?”

Sifo-Dyas forced an exhale. “From where would these hypothetical armies arise? The outlying systems lack the resources …” Realizing his error, he trailed off.

Plagueis waited a moment, his satisfaction concealed. “I didn’t mean to suggest that the Republic is purposely depriving the outlying systems of the right to self-determination. I’m merely speculating, because I do see a growing threat.”

Dooku regarded him. “You are not alone in seeing it, Magister.”

“Then one final question, if I may: If attacked, would you counterattack?”

“The Republic has pledged to remain demilitarized,” Dooku said. “It would militarize only in the instance of a perceived threat.”

“Once more, you’ve reframed your initial question, Magister Damask,” Sifo-Dyas interrupted, a new fire in his eyes. “You’re hypothesizing an attack on the Jedi Order itself.”

“I suppose I am,” Plagueis said self-deprecatingly. “I suppose I was thinking of the recent assassination of Senator Vidar Kim. A Jedi was involved, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That matter is being looked into,” Sifo-Dyas said in a controlled voice. “There’s no evidence to suggest that the Jedi in question was targeted.”

The silence that followed was broken by the voice of Jocasta Nu, who was summoning the Jedi to the far side of the conference room. Plagueis studied Sifo-Dyas peripherally. While Nu and the others conferred, he thought back to the conversation he’d had with Sidious on Sojourn.

We will have to exploit their self-righteousness and blind obedience to the Republic, Sidious had said at one point. The Jedi must be made to appear the enemies of peace and justice, rather than the guardians.

Mulling it over anew, Plagueis began to wonder whether he had taken the wrong approach on Kamino. Perhaps, he thought, it would be better to have the Kaminoans create an army capable of fighting alongside the Jedi rather than against them …

Sifo-Dyas was the first to return to Plagueis’s corner of the room, as if eager to continue the conversation.

“Lest you’re thinking of investing in military enterprises, Magister, I can assure you that the Republic will not reverse its stance on demilitarization.” His words were forceful, but lacked certainty. “The Ruusan Reformations will not be repealed.”

Plagueis showed the palms of his hands. “And I can assure you, Master Jedi, that my questions were in no means motivated by thoughts of profit. We — that is, I — don’t wish to see the Republic caught off guard. For now I’ll place my faith in the Jedi, and in the belief that an army could be raised if necessary.”

Sifo-Dyas’s gaze faltered. “Out of thin air? Unlikely, Magister.”

“Grown, then.”

“Manufactured, you mean.”

“No, I was being literal,” Plagueis said. “But I know of only one group that might be up to the task. The group who grew laborers to work the mines of Subterrel.”

Puzzlement wrinkled Sifo-Dyas’s face. “I’m not familiar with Subterrel.”

Plagueis was about to mention Kamino when he spied Jocasta Nu approaching, and a feeling from deep in the dark side rose up inside him, strangling his voice box, as if refusing to let the word escape.

“I apologize, Master Jedi,” he said when he could. “The name of the group was on the tip of my tongue, but I seem to have swallowed it.”

18: ARTFUL DODGING

Palpatine had been on Coruscant for just over two standard months when the Senate convened to vote on whether or not to seat Felucia, Murkhana, and half a dozen other planets considered by many to be client worlds of the Trade Federation. In the hope of generating public interest, Coruscant climate control had promised to provide perfect weather over the government district. Clouds had been swept aside and orbital mirrors had been positioned to provide maximum daylight. Maintenance droids had refreshed the paving stones of Senate Plaza and polished the thirty-meter-tall statues that lined the Avenue of the Core Founders. Police had cordoned off large areas of the district between levels 55 and 106, and deployed sniper units, squads of bomb detector automata, and three times the usual number of security hovercams. Reporters, documentarians, freelance journalists, and op-ed columnists were out in force, calling in favors in an effort to be as close to the action as possible. Limousine services were working overtime, and taxis were nearly impossible to find, which left aides and assistants to fend for themselves, arriving on foot or by mag-lev, ensembles freshly laundered, headpieces blocked, fur coiffed, boots buffed. Even the Jedi Knights and Padawans stationed throughout the plaza as a show of force appeared to be sporting their cleanest robes and tunics.

Analysts were touting the vote as landmark, though it had been an admittedly slow news week on Coruscant. More to the point, a vast majority of the capital’s residents couldn’t have cared less about the outcome, since most only knew of the Trade Federation through self-serving advertisements that streamed on the HoloNet. Local gossip was always more interesting than politics, in any case.

For weeks, however, opponents and supporters of the amendments that would revise the rules regarding