Darth Plagueis - James Luceno [56]
“In human years I would be well over one hundred.”
Palpatine whistled. “I envy you that.”
“Why?”
“All the things you’ve done and can still do.”
“What would you do?”
“Everything,” Palpatine said.
They got up from the bench and began to amble back toward the university complex. Plagueis submerged himself deeply in the Force to study Palpatine, but he was unable to glean very much. Humans were difficult to read in the easiest of cases, and Palpatine’s mind was awash in conflict. So much going on in that small brain, Plagueis told himself. So much emotional current and self-interest. So unlike the predictable, focused intellects of the Outer Rim sentients, especially the hive-minded among them.
Palpatine stopped alongside a brightly colored, triple-finned landspeeder with a pointed nose and a repulsorlift engine that looked powerful enough to raise a loadlifter droid.
“This vehicle is yours?” Plagueis asked.
Pride shone in Palpatine’s eyes. “A prototype patrol-grade Flash. I race competitively.”
“Do you win?”
“Why else would I bother racing?” Climbing into the speeder, Palpatine centered himself at the controls.
“I have just the thing to adorn your rearview mirror,” Plagueis said. From his breast pocket he fished a coin of pure aurodium dangling from a length of chain, and dropped it into the palm of Palpatine’s hand. “It’s an antique.”
The young human appraised the gift. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s yours.”
Palpatine showed him a questioning look.
“Who knows, perhaps you’ll go into banking one day,” Plagueis said.
Palpatine laughed in a relaxed way. “Unlikely, Magister Damask.”
“I suppose there are better ways to earn credits.”
Palpatine shook his head. “Credits don’t interest me.”
“I’m beginning to wonder just what does.”
Palpatine bit back whatever he was about to say.
“Palpatine, I wonder how you would feel about working with us—Damask Holdings, I mean.”
Palpatine’s thick eyebrows beetled. “In what capacity?”
“To be perfectly blunt, as a kind of spy.” He went on before Palpatine could speak. “I won’t say that you and I want the same things for Naboo, because clearly—and notwithstanding your feelings about the architecture—you hold your world dear. My group, however, is less interested in Naboo’s government than it is in Naboo’s plasma and what it will fetch on the open market.”
Palpatine looked as if the plain truth was something new to him. “If you had phrased that any differently, I would have rejected your offer out of hand.”
“Then you accept? You’re willing to update us regarding whatever political machinations your father’s group may have in the works?”
“Only if I can report directly to you.”
Plagueis tried once more to see him in the Force. “Is that your wish?”
Palpatine returned a sober nod. “It is.”
“Then by all means, you’ll report exclusively to me,” Plagueis said. “I’ll see to it that the necessary arrangements are made.” He stepped away from the speeder as Palpatine powered it up.
Palpatine fell silent for a moment. “I could take you for a ride tomorrow,” he said at last, above the whine of the engine. “If you have time, I mean. Show you some more of Theed and the outskirts.”
“If I have your word you won’t go too fast.”
Palpatine smiled wickedly. “Only fast enough to keep it interesting.”
10: THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE
Flying a meter above the ground, Palpatine’s agile speeder skimmed over the plains below Theed plateau, leaving long curving trails in the tall grasses. The day was bright and clear, the warm air abuzz with insects and strewn with pollen.
“Exhilarating,” Plagueis said from the passenger-side bucket seat when Palpatine’s foot had eased off the accelerator.
“Maybe I’ll become a professional racer.”
“The Naboo might expect more of the eldest son of House Palpatine.”
“I ignore the expectations of others,” Palpatine said without looking at him.
“Was the speeder a gift from your father?”
Palpatine glanced at him. “A bribe—but one I accepted.”
“Does he approve of your racing?”
Palpatine made a harsh sound. “My