success that we can award worlds as if they were mere business contracts?”
A group of well-dressed Twi’leks sauntered by, gaping at Palpatine in recognition. That he should openly fraternize with a Muun was an indication of the power and influence of both beings.
It was Damask who had stressed the importance of their being seen together in public; and so, in the weeks since the Muun had arrived on Coruscant, they had dined on several occasions at the Manarai and other exclusive restaurants, and had attended recitals at both the Coruscant and Galaxies operas. Most recently they had been present at an elite gathering in 500 Republica, hosted by Senator Orn Free Taa, at which Plagueis had overheard the Rutian Twi’lek discussing plans to nominate Palpatine for the chancellorship. Next on their busy agenda was a political rally scheduled to take place on Coruscant’s Perlemian Orbital Facility, where potential candidates for the office of Supreme Chancellor would have a chance to mingle with corporation executives, lobbyists, campaigners, and even some Jedi Masters.
“A blockade followed by an actual invasion isn’t likely to win the Trade Federation any new allies,” Damask was saying. “But if nothing else we’ll be able to assess the performance of Gunray’s droid army and make adjustments as necessary.”
“Through their own carelessness, the Neimoidians managed to compromise their secret foundries on Eos and Alaris Prime,” Palpatine said, letting some of his exasperation show.
Damask eyed him. “For the moment, they have what they need. The acquisition of Naboo will demonstrate the failings of diplomacy, and prompt a sense of militancy among the Jedi.” Keeping his gaze fixed on Palpatine, he added, “In preparation for the coming war, we will relocate Baktoid Armor to Geonosis. Even then, however, we can’t equip our allies with sufficient weapons to secure a quick victory. A drawn-out conflict will ensure a galaxy pounded to a pulp and eager to embrace us.”
Palpatine finally sat down. “We still need to raise an army for the Jedi to command. But one that answers ultimately to the Supreme Chancellor.”
“A grown army could be designed to do just that,” Damask said.
Palpatine considered it. “It sounds too simple. Jedi are not easily taken by surprise. Honed for warfare, they will be even more difficult to ensnare.”
“At the end of a long war, perhaps? With victory in sight?”
“To achieve that, both sides would have to be managed.” Palpatine blew out his breath. “Even if a surprise attack could be launched, not every Jedi would be in the field.”
“Only those suitable for combat would need concern us.”
Palpatine broke a long silence. “The Kaminoan cloners failed you once.”
Damask acknowledged the statement with a nod. “Because I gave them a Yinchorri template. They told me then that your species might be easier to replicate.”
“You’ll contact them again?”
“This army must not be traced to us. But there is someone I might be able to persuade to place the initial order.”
Palpatine waited, but Damask had nothing to add. The fact that he had said as much about the matter as he intended to say brought Palpatine full-circle to consternation. Abruptly, he stood and paced away from the bench.
“Instruct the Neimoidians to launch the blockade,” Damask said to his back. “It’s important that events be set in motion before the orbital facility congress.” When Palpatine didn’t respond, Plagueis stood and followed him. “What’s troubling you, Sidious? Perhaps you feel that you’ve become nothing more than a messenger.”
Palpatine whirled on him. “Yes, at times. But I know my place, and am content with it.”
“What, then, has whipped you to a froth?”
“The Neimoidians,” Palpatine said with sudden conviction. “In addition to Gunray, I have been dealing with three others: Haako, Daultay, and Monchar.”
“I know Monchar slightly,” Damask said. “He maintains a suite in the Kaldani Spires.”
“He was absent when I last spoke with Gunray.”
Suspicion bloomed in the Muun’s eyes, and he hissed, “Where were they, then?”
“Aboard their flagship. Gunray claimed that Monchar had taken ill as a result of rich food.”
“But you know better.”
Palpatine nodded. “The sniveling toady knows about the blockade. I suspect that he’s on the loose, and out for profit.”
Damask’s eyes flashed yellow. “This is what happens when beings are promoted beyond their level of competence!”
Palpatine tensed in anger.
“Not you,” Damask said quickly. “Gunray and his ilk! The Force harrows and penalizes us for consorting with those too ignorant to appreciate and execute our designs!”
Palpatine took comfort in the fact that even Plagueis had his limits. “I failed to heed your words about sudden reversals.”
Damask frowned at him, then relaxed. “I ignore my own advice. The blockade must wait.”
“I will recall Maul,” Palpatine said.
Two weeks after the Neimoidian’s unannounced disappearance from the flagship
“Why did you order him to come here, of all places?” Damask asked Palpatine during a respite from the handshaking, casual conversation, and forced conviviality. Dressed in their finest robes, they were standing near a back-lighted waterfall, nodding to passing beings, even as the two of them conspired. “He has cut a swath of destruction through the Crimson Corridor and killed two Jedi, along with beings of a dozen species, including a Hutt. We can’t trust that someone isn’t on his scent — if not Jedi then perhaps law enforcement personnel. If by some fluke he were to be apprehended, he has the skill to scramble the minds of ordinary beings, but not to cloak himself from a Jedi. Both our existence and our plans for the blockade could be endangered.”
“Jedi were on his scent,” Palpatine explained. “That’s precisely why I ordered him offworld.”
Damask started to respond, but stopped himself and began again. “He is in possession of this holocron Monchar recorded?”
Palpatine nodded. “I instructed Pestage to clear a route through a seldom-used docking bay. I merely have to rendezvous with Maul at the prearranged time and place.”
Damask still wasn’t convinced. The Monchar affair had almost ended in catastrophe. It was as if the Force, so often compared to a current, had been diverted into a sheer canyon and twisted back on itself to generate treacherous eddies and hydraulics. “Why not simply have him surrender the crystal to Pestage?” he asked at last.
“We don’t know what other sensitive data the holocron might contain.”
Damask exhaled forcefully through the mask. “I trust that at least you instructed him not to be seen.” He glanced around him. “A tattooed Zabrak enrobed in head-to-toe black would certainly stand out among this crowd.”
Palpatine couldn’t argue the point. Off to one side of them stood Senator Bail Antilles and his aides. A Prince on his homeworld of Alderaan and chair of the Senate’s Internal Activities Committee, the handsome, dark-haired Antilles was surrounded by a crowd that included Core World Senators and businessbeings, all of whom had pledged to support him in the coming election, and Jedi Master Jorus C’baoth, who had been enlisted to arbitrate a dispute among some of Alderaan’s royal houses. An arrogant, wild-eyed human, C’baoth was cut from the same cloth as Dooku, whose absence from the political gathering had been noted by many. Antilles had been the Sith’s pawn in bringing to the fore accusations of wrongdoing on the part of Valorum during the Eriadu crisis, but the notoriety he had gained as a result — in the Senate and in the media — had bolstered his campaign and made him the current
