Darth Plagueis - James Luceno [31]
Damask forced a kindred laugh. “More than I know … That’s very funny indeed.” He broke off laughing to add, “Allow us to show you how we execute some of the inner workings of the Gathering.”
The Gossams looked at one another in surprise before their leader said, “We’d be honored.”
Damask stood and nodded to four of the Sun Guards, who fell in alongside the Gossams as he, Hill, and two other Muuns led them to a bank of ancient turbolift cars.
“All the real action takes place below,” Damask said, setting the car in motion with a wave of his hand.
In silence they descended two levels, and when the car’s doors parted, they filed into a cavernous underground hall. Central to the dimly lighted space were several large square platforms that could be raised by means of hydraulic poles, operated by separate teams of sweating, snuffling snub-nosed Ugnaughts. One platform, burdened with a slag heap of metal, was just descending, to sounds of raucous cheering and wild applause entering through an opening in the towering ceiling. Secured by manacles and chains on an adjacent platform writhed a hissing, snarling, fanged beast the size of a bantha.
“We’re directly beneath the central courtyard,” Damask explained as the beast-laden platform was elevating. “Each cargo symbolizes an abhorrent aspect of the Republic—practices we all wish to see overturned.”
By then the platform had been raised to the level of the courtyard. The crowd quieted for a moment, then, simultaneous with massive discharges of energy, erupted into ovation once more.
“Those discharges were the laser cannons doing their work,” Damask said loudly enough to be heard as the platform dropped back into view, revealing that what had been the beast was now a smoking, foul-smelling husk of sinew and bone. He aimed a sinister smile at the Gossams. “It’s all theater, you understand. Merriment for the masses.”
“Obviously a real crowd-pleaser, Magister,” one of the Gossams said, swallowing some of his words.
Damask spread his thin arms wide. “Then you must join in.” Approaching, he nodded his chin toward one of the empty platforms, beside which the Sun Guards had positioned themselves. “Climb aboard.”
The saurians stared at him.
“Go ahead,” Damask said, without humor now. “Climb aboard.”
Two of the guards brandished blasters.
The chief Gossam looked from one Muun to the next, terror widening his eyes. “Have we done something to displease you, Magister?”
“A good question,” Damask said. “Have you?”
The chief Gossam didn’t speak until all four had clambered up onto the platform. “Precisely how did we come to your notice?”
“A mutual friend brought you to our attention,” Damask said. “A Bith named Rugess Nome. You recently supplied him with a survey report and a mining probe.”
The platform began to rise and the Gossams extended their long necks in fear. “We can make this right!” one of them said in a pleading voice.
Damask eyed the ceiling. “Then be quick about it. The laser cannons fire automatically.”
“Plasma!” the same one fairly shrieked. “An untapped reservoir of plasma! Enough to provide energy to a thousand worlds!”
Damask signaled one of the Ugnaughts to halt the platform’s rise. “Where? On what world?”
“Naboo,” the Gossam said; then louder: “Naboo!”
Hill elaborated, though unnecessarily. “Something of a hermit planet in the Mid Rim, and capital of the Chommell sector. Relatively close to Tatooine, in fact. Once a source for the veermoks we had cloned for use as game in the greel forests.”
Damask allowed him to finish and looked up at the Gossams. “Who hired you to conduct a mining survey?”
“A faction in opposition to the monarchy, Magister.”
“We swear it to be true,” another said.
“This Naboo is ruled by a royal?” Damask asked.
“A King,” the chief Gossam said. “His detractors wish to see the planet opened to galactic trade.”
Damask paced away from the platform. He considered torturing the Gossams, to learn who had hired them to sabotage Tenebrous on Bal’demnic, but decided to leave that