Darth Plagueis - James Luceno [149]
A space cruiser of gargantuan size and ostentatious design could be seen hanging in the middle distance. Shaped like an arrowhead, the vessel was heavily armed and large enough to accommodate half a dozen starfighters. While Plagueis was maneuvering toward it, the comm board’s enunciators were rattled by a resonant laugh.
“I hope to persuade you one day to share the secret of your invisible ship, Magister Damask.”
“I appreciate your punctuality, Jabba Desilijic Tiure. As I do the advance intelligence that allowed me to avoid being atomized.”
“Thus are lasting partnerships solidified, Magister. What is our destination?”
“Coruscant,” Plagueis said. “But I’ve one more favor to ask before we arrive.”
“Simply state it, and it will be done.”
“Then arrange for communications with Naboo. King Veruna needs to be informed of what he has brought down on himself and his confederates.”
Jabba guffawed again. “It will be my pleasure.”
27: CALIBRATIONS
Hego Damask didn’t simply keep a penthouse on Coruscant; he owned an entire building. While it wasn’t as grand as 500 Republica, Kaldani Spires was the Galactic Center’s most desired address outside the Senate District. Towering over Monument Plaza, the stately building was as fine an example of Hasennan Period architecture as could be found onworld, and from its uppermost suites residents could see from the peaks of the Manarai Mountains clear to the Western Sea—Coruscant’s only instances of naked rock and surface water. A neighborhood for neither politicians nor the newly arrived, the district catered to solid old-money citizenry: financiers, corporate chiefs, industrialists, and bankers.
Damask’s residence took up the whole of the Kaldani’s summit.
A pair of Sun Guards rode with Palpatine in the private turbolift, only to surrender him to another pair stationed in the penthouse’s light-filled atrium. But it was the droid 11-4D that escorted him into Damask’s study, which was darkened by tall, brocade curtains and filled with masterpieces of galactic art. The masked Muun himself rose from a plush armchair to greet Palpatine as he was shown into the room.
“Master,” Sidious said, interlocking his hands in front of him and bowing his head.
Plagueis lowered his head in a gesture of mutual respect. “Welcome, Darth Sidious. It’s good to see you.”
As the room was the opposite of the one he had often confined himself to on Sojourn, Plagueis no longer looked like the wide-eyed mystic he had seemed only months earlier. Except for having to wear the breathing device, he struck Palpatine as a slightly older version of the Muun who had visited him on Naboo so many decades before.
The two Sith moved to a sunken area of the room and sat across from each other. Plagueis filled two glasses with clear wine and passed one to his apprentice. He made the act of imbibing through his nasal passages seem almost routine.
“After Sojourn, I find it somewhat dislocating to be back in the greater world.”
“Master, I’m sorry I wasn’t the first to warn you of the attack,” Sidious said. “I didn’t think Veruna had the courage to carry out his veiled threats. Perhaps I nudged him too far.”
A long moment of silence passed between them.
“What you did and didn’t do is immaterial,” Plagueis said at last. “Coming when it did, at almost precisely the same time the members of the Trade Federation Directorate were meeting their fates, the attack was the work of the Force, substantiating our ambitions, especially.” He took more wine and set the glass down. “I never would have had the heart to destroy Sojourn, though it needed to be done; and so the Force saw to it. The incident reminds us of the need to be prepared for sudden eventualities, whether harmonious or inimical to our plans, and compliant to circumstance.”
“And now we are justified in striking back,” Sidious said.
“We no longer need to justify our actions to anyone. But bear in mind what I told you long ago: by killing one, we can frighten many.”
Sidious nodded. “We owe Jabba