Darth Plagueis

by James Luceno

“It’s true that Drixo and Progga have done well for themselves on Comra,” Damask said, “but their successes came at a high cost. What are you offering in return for our investment?” A light came into the Hutt’s dark, oblique eyes. “A Podrace course that will make those on Malastare and on your own Muunilinst seem like amateur runs. In addition, the renaissance of an annual Podrace event that will bring tens of thousands of gamblers to Tatooine and fill my coffers to overflowing.” She paused, then added: “And I’m willing to take you on as a partner.”

Black Sun

permit—” “Those are our terms, Gardulla,” Damask cut in. “Find some way to allow Cabra to reach an accommodation with Black Sun and we will support your takeover of Tatooine.” He gestured toward the fortress courtyard.

The Shi’ido did not disappoint him. And the moment he began to shift—from Askajian to what might have been either an Ongree or a Gotal—11-4D activated the laser weapon hidden in its right arm and fired a tightbeam into the base of the Shi’ido’s brain.

“Santhe is one of the galaxy’s wealthiest beings,” Plagueis pressed. “Why would he need what you’ve been stealing from casinos from here to Coruscant?” “He’s millions in debt. He hasn’t stopped drinking and gambling since his father was assassinated.”

“Consider this: you have one last chance to use your Force talents to win big before your horrid image becomes the centerpiece of the cheaters database on every gambling world. I suggest you use your winnings wisely to make a new life for yourself where the Gaming Authority won’t be able to find you, and I won’t come looking for you.”

“I have seen the coming darkness and the beings that will visit it upon the galaxy.” She paused briefly to allow her words to be felt. “I have witnessed the collapse of the Republic, and I have beheld the Jedi Order spun into turmoil.” She aimed a finger toward distant mountains. “On the horizon looms a galaxy-spanning war—a conflict between machines of alloy and machines of flesh, and the subsequent death of tens of millions of innocents.” She paced on the slab, almost as if speaking to herself. “I see worlds subjugated and worlds destroyed, and from the chaos a new order born, buttressed by ferocious weapons the likes of which haven’t been seen in more than one thousand years. A galaxy brought under the yoke of a ruthless despot who serves the forces of entropy. And finally I have seen that only those hardened by this ineluctable truth can survive.” She scanned the audience. “Only those of you who are willing to turn upon one another and profit by the misfortunes of others.”

“What this reordered galaxy will need is beings who are fearless to be arrogant, self-serving, and driven to survive at all costs. Here, under my guidance, you will learn to let go of your old selves and find the strength to recast yourselves as beings of durasteel, through actions you might never have believed yourselves possible of performing. “I am the pilot of your future.”

She opened her arms to the crowd. “Look, each of you, to the ones to your left and right, and to those in front and behind …” Plagueis did as instructed, meeting innocent gazes and angry ones, frightened looks and expressions of loss. “… and think of them as stepping-stones to your eventual escalation,” the Iktotchi said. She showed her hands. “The touch from my hands will set the current flowing through you; it will trip the switch that will start your journey to transformation. Come to me if you wish to be selected.”

The appropriate message should have been that they relinquish their need to feel in control of their own destinies and accept the enlightened leadership of a select few.

Plagueis considered his next question carefully. “Is he dangerous?” The Ithorian drummed his spatulate fingers again before responding. “At the risk of violating patient confidentiality, I would say potentially dangerous, as he has certain … let us say, talents, that transcend the ordinary.” “Did those talents figure into his escape?” “Perhaps. Though we think he may have had help.” “From whom?” “A Bith physician who took an interest in his case.”

Plagueis leaned back in his chair. Venamis? “Have you contacted this physician?” “We tried, but the information he furnished regarding his practice and place of residence was fraudulent.” “So he may not have been a physician.” The Ithorian’s head bobbed on his curving neck. “Sadly. The Bith may have been an accomplice, of sorts.”

Large, nonsentient bipedal creatures, marsh haunts hunted in packs and were known to use the Force to flush their prey into the open. “The superstitious among the Barabels believe that the Blight of Barabel is responsible for the rash of killings.”

spare chair. Plagueis stepped toward the table but declined the chair. “A locally produced beer,” the Zabrak said, pouring from the flagon. “But I saw a bottle of Abraxin Brandy inside, if that’s more to your liking.” “Thank you, but neither at the moment,” Plagueis said. “Perhaps after working hours.” The Cerean motioned to himself. “I am Master Ni-Cada. And this is Padawan Lo Bukk. What brings you to Abraxin, citizen—” “Micro-loans,” Plagueis cut in before having to provide a name. “The Banking Clan is considering opening a branch

“Uncertainty is the first step toward self-determination,” Plagueis said. “Courage comes next.”

His father’s tone turned harsh. “This is for your own good.” Palpatine’s nostrils flared. “Father of lies,” he muttered. “How would you know what’s good for me? Have you ever even cared? This is about my friendship with Hego Damask, isn’t it?” The elder Palpatine snorted in derision. “Is that what you think it is? Damask is merely using you as a means of securing information about our strategies for the election.” “Of course he is.”

Cosinga pushed himself to his knees and began a terrified retreat, leaving smears of blood on the deck. But Palpatine was advancing on him now. “If the Force birthed you, then I curse it!” Cosinga rasped. “I curse it!” “As I do,” Palpatine growled. The hatch began to slide to, and he heard the voice of the guard who had escorted him from the Jafan III. “Stop!” “Cosinga!” his mother screamed. Palpatine pressed the palms of his hands to his head, then in eerie calm streaked to the hatch, pulled the surprised guard through the threshold, and tossed him clear across the cabin. Raising his face to the ceiling, he shouted, “We’re all in this now!”

A sudden current of intense dark side energy snaked through Plagueis. Stronger than any feeling he had experienced since the death of Darth Tenebrous, replete with flashes of past, present, and perhaps future events, the disturbance was powerful enough to snap him completely out of his trance. A rite performed; a confirmation conferred. Half expecting to find Venamis sitting upright on the table, he opened his eyes to the sight of 11-4D shuffling toward him from the operating theater’s communication console. Plagueis’s mouth formed a question: “Hill?” “No. The young human—Palpatine. A deep-space transmission.”

After the launch I learned that I was being taken to Chommell Minor. Just as you warned. We fell into an argument … then, I’m not sure what happened—” “Tell me what happened,” Plagueis demanded. “I killed them,” Palpatine snarled back. “I killed them—even the guards.” Plagueis restrained a smile, knowing now that Naboo would be his. Over and done with. Now to reel him in further, and ensure his continued usefulness.

“I will see you soon enough, Palpatine.” “But the ship. The … evidence.” “I’ll make arrangements for the ship’s disposal. No one will ever learn of this event, do you understand?” Palpatine nodded. “I trust you.” Plagueis returned the nod. “And Palpatine: congratulations on becoming an emancipated being.”

“You said soon,” Palpatine barked the moment the hatch had pocketed itself in the bulkhead. “A standard week is not soon.” Plagueis entered, removed his robe, and folded it over the back of a chair. “I had business to attend to.” He glanced over his shoulder at Palpatine. “Was I simply supposed to drop everything in service to the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into?” Speechless for a moment, Palpatine said, “Forgive me for having allowed myself to believe that we were in this together.” “Together? How so?” “Am I not your agent on Naboo?” Plagueis rocked his head from side to side. “You did provide us with some useful information.” Palpatine studied him uncertainly. “I did more than that, Magister, and you’re well aware of it. You share as much responsibility for what happened as I do.”

offer a confession. Yes, I deliberately goaded you.” “You came to Chandrila to make certain that my father’s spies would see us together.” “Once more, correct. You make me proud of you.” Palpatine ignored the flattery. “You used me.” “There was no other way.” Palpatine shook his head in angry disbelief. “Was any of the story about your siblings true?” “Some of it. But that scarcely matters now. You asked for my help and I provided it. Your father attempted to thwart you, and you acted of your own free will.” “And by killing him I’ve rid you of an opponent.” Palpatine paused. “My father was right about you. You are a gangster.” “And you are free and wealthy,” Plagueis said. “So what now, young human? I continue to have great hopes for you, but before I could tell you everything I needed you to be free.” “Free from what?” “From fear of expressing your true nature.”

“I’ve never been one for grim details,” Plagueis said. “But if you need to unburden yourself, do so.” Palpatine raised his clawed hands. “I executed them with these! And with the power of my mind. I became a storm, Magister—a weapon strong enough to warp bulkheads and hurl bodies across cabinspaces. I was death itself!” Plagueis sat tall in the chair, in genuine astonishment. He could see Palpatine now in all his dark glory. Anger and murder had pulled down the walls he had raised perhaps since infancy to safeguard his secret. But there was no concealing it now: the Force was powerful in him! Bottled up for seventeen standard years, his innate power had finally burst forth and could never again be stoppered. All the years of repression, guiltless crimes, raw emotion bubbling forth, toxic to any who dared touch or taste it. But beneath his anger lurked a subtle enemy: apprehension. Newly reborn, he was at great risk. But only because he didn’t realize just how powerful he was or how extraordinarily powerful he could become. He would need help to complete his self-destruction. He would need help rebuilding those walls, to keep from being discovered.

he might make. What an ally! “I’m not sure I know what to think of this, Palpatine,” he said at last. “Have you always had such powers?”

“Here is where the path bifurcates, young human. Here and now you need to decide whether to disavow your power or to venture courageously and scrupulously into the depths of truth—no matter the consequences.”

“You could devote the rest of your life to trying to make sense of this power, this gift,” he said, without looking back. “Or you could consider a different option.” He swung to face Palpatine. “It’s a dark path into a trackless wilderness from which few return. Not without a guide, at any rate. But it is also the shortest, quickest route between today and tomorrow.”

“In your studies,” he said carefully, “have you ever learned of the Sith?” Palpatine blinked, as if preoccupied. “A Jedi sect, weren’t they? The result of a kind of family feud.” “Yes, yes, in some ways just that. But more: the Sith are the prodigal offspring, destined to return and overthrow the Jedi.” Palpatine cut his eyes to Plagueis. “The Sith are considered to be evil.” “Evil?” Plagueis repeated. “What is that? Moments ago you defined yourself as a storm. You said you were death itself. Are you evil, then, or are you simply stronger and more awake than others? Who gives more shape to sentient history: the good, who adhere to the tried and true, or those who seek to rouse beings from their stupor and lead them to glory? A storm you are, but a much-needed one, to wash away the old and complacent and prune the galaxy of deadweight.”

“The test of its value is whether you can live by it, Palpatine.” “If I had wanted that I would have forced my parents years ago to surrender me to the Jedi Order instead of transferring me from school to private school.” Plagueis planted his hands on his hips and laughed without mirth. “And of what possible use do you think a person of your nature would be to the Jedi Order? You’re heartless, ambitious, arrogant, insidious, and without shame or empathy. More, you’re a murderer.” He held Palpatine’s hooded gaze and watched the youth’s hands clench in fists of rage. “Careful, boy,” he said after a moment. “You are not the only being in this plush stateroom with the power to kill.” Palpatine’s eyes opened wide and he took a step back. “I can sense it …”

Palpatine appeared suitably chastened. “Might I be of some use to the Sith?” “Possibly,” Plagueis said. “Perhaps even likely. But we would have to wait and see.” “Where are the Sith?” Plagueis allowed a smile. “Just now there is only one. Unless, of course, it is your will to join me.” Palpatine nodded. “I do wish to join you.” “Then kneel before me and pledge that it is your will to join your destiny forever with the Order of the Sith Lords.” Palpatine stared at the floor, then genuflected, uttering, “It is my will to join my destiny forever with the Order of the Sith Lords.” Plagueis extended his left hand to touch him on the crown of the head. “Then it is done. From this day forward, the truth of you, now and forever more, will be Sidious.”

by the shoulders. “In time you will come to understand that you are one with the dark side of the Force, and that your power is beyond contradiction. But just now, and until I tell you differently, abiding submission is your only road to salvation.”

The divide between the ways of the Force as practiced by the Sith and the Jedi has less to do with the distinction between darkness or the presence of light than between—in your case—naked cold and the presence of warmth. Between distress and comfort, entropy and predictability.” Plagueis paused to regard Sidious. “Your blood is close to frozen. Too much time here and you will die. That is what you will think at the beginning, when the dark side has sniffed you out and sidled up to you. You will think: I will die; the dark side will kill me. And it’s true, you will die, but only to be reborn. You must take deeply into yourself the knowledge of what it means to be removed; you must feel it in the marrow of your bones, because it will ever be thus.”

“I can’t have your will tempered by feelings of regret or compassion. You were brought into being to lead. Therefore you must see every living thing as nothing more than a tool to elevate you, to move you to your destined place. This is our galaxy, Sidious, our reality. “In this pitiless place, your power is forged.

But no Jedi who arrives at that place, who has risen above his or her allegiance to peace and justice, who kills in anger or out of desire, can lay real claim to the dark side of the Force. Their attempts to convince themselves that they fell to the dark side, or that the dark side compelled their actions, are nothing more than pitiful rationalizations. That is why the Sith embrace the dark from the start, focusing on the acquistion of power. We make no excuses. The actions of a Sith begin from the self and flow outward. We stalk the Force like hunters, rather than surrender like prey to its enigmatic whims.” “I understand, Master,” Sidious managed in a stuttering voice. Plagueis showed him a malevolent smile. “I once said as much to my Master, when in fact I understood nothing. I merely wanted to put an end to the pain.” In a blur of motion, he tore open the front of Sidious’s enviro-suit. “I am your torturer, Sidious. Soon you will make every effort to appease me, and with each lie you tell, with each attempt you make to reverse our roles, you will make yourself as shiny as an aurodium coin to the dark side. “So appease me, Sidious. Tell me again how you killed them.”

Then, Sidious, we must do our best to sabotage the dynamic Darth Bane set in motion, because we will need each other if we’re to realize our ultimate goals. In the end there can be no secrets between us; no jealousy or mistrust.

“Fool,” Plagueis derided him. “Success doesn’t come from summoning help from the Force, but from taking control of it and generating the power from within yourself.” He sighed theatrically. “Still, I’m somewhat encouraged by the progress you’ve made. Mere centimeters from me now, almost within arm’s reach. Soon I’ll be able to feel your breath on my neck and perceive the heat of your rage—your desire to kill me, as if by doing so, you could lay claim to the authority I embody.” He paused but didn’t move, much less glance over his shoulder. “You want to strangle me, like you did your poor, misunderstood mother; tear me limb from limb as you did the bodyguards. Fair enough. But to do so you will have to make a greater effort, Apprentice.”

Clawing his way across the tundra, his body rashed with lightsaber burns, Sidious looked up at Plagueis, imploringly. “How much longer, Master?” Plagueis deactivated his weapon’s crimson blade and scowled. “Perhaps a moment, perhaps an eternity. Stop thinking of the future, and anchor yourself in the present. A Sith apprentice is the antithesis of a Jedi youngling nurtured in the Temple, battling a floating remote with a training lightsaber. A Sith acquaints himself with pain from the start, and inflicts it, as well. A Sith goes for the throat, just as you did on your family’s starship.” Sidious continued to gaze at him. “I meant, how much longer will it take me to learn?”

“Have I no strengths, Master?” Plagueis dropped to one knee in front of him. “You have the Force, Apprentice, and the talent to lead. More, you have the bloodlust of a serial killer, though we need to hold that in reserve unless violence serves some extraordinary purpose. We are not butchers, Sidious, like some past Sith Lords. We are architects of the future.” Sidious swallowed and found his voice. “How long?” Plagueis stood, reigniting the lightsaber as he did so. “Not a standard day sooner than a decade.”

In mad pursuit of their prey and all but taking flight, the two Sith, Master and apprentice for eleven years now, bounded across the grassy terrain, their short capes snapping behind them, vibroblades clenched in their hands and bare forearms flecked with gore; blood caked in the human’s long hair and dried on the Muun’s hairless brow.

Some combination of the strictures—or perhaps recognition on Plagueis’s part for his apprentice’s unabated craving to visit Sith worlds—had landed Palpatine on scenic Dathomir. Sparsely populated and largely unexplored, Dathomir wasn’t Korriban or Ziost, but it was powerful in the Force, in part because of its fecundity, but mainly due to the presence of groups of female adepts who practiced dark side magicks.

“What then? Come to the point.” “It’s a gift I offer.” Palpatine laughed without merriment. “What could you possibly have to offer someone like me?” “Just this.” She opened the soft shoulder bag to reveal a humanoid infant of less than a standard year in age. The infant’s hairless head was stippled with an array of short but still pliant horns, and its entire body had been garishly and ceremonially tattooed in red and black pigments.

A male Zabrak, Palpatine told himself. But not of the Iridonian sort; rather, a Dathomirian. “How do you come by this newborn? Have you stolen him?” “You misunderstand, good sir. My own child, this one is.” Palpatine glowered. “You say that he is a gift, and yet you dissemble.

She refused to avert her gaze. “You’re not a Jedi.” “Clearly I am not, as I suspect you have already intuited. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why are trying to rid yourself of the infant?” “To spare the one for the sake of the other,” she said after a moment. “Half a clan pair, this one is. And I want one to live freely, since the other can’t.” “Who poses the threat?” “Talzin is her name.” “Who is Talzin?” “The Nightsister Mother.” Palpatine filed the information away. “Where is the infant’s father?” “Dead—by tradition.”

Gently, she pushed the shoulder bag toward him. “Then take him. Please.” “What would I do with him?” “This one is strong in the Force. In the right hands, he can become a powerful asset.” “Servitude of a different sort.” She ignored the remark. “Take him. Save him.” Palpatine regarded the newborn again. “Have you named him?” “Maul, he is called.” “Befitting the power you divine in him.” She nodded. “Take him.” Palpatine gazed at her and, motioning with his right hand, said, “You will forget this encounter.” She locked eyes with him. “I will try.” “For your own sake, I hope you do. Now, go. Before I change my mind.” Placing the bag in his hands, she turned and hurried off, disappearing into the crowd.

Palpatine studied the bundle of life he held. That the Force was strong in the infant was reason enough not to allow him to wander about unprotected, and perhaps fall into the hands of the Jedi. Now Palpatine simply had to figure out what to do with him.

Members of the Trade Federation were in attendance, including a richly dressed Neimoidian. And for the first time in decades, representatives of various hive species were present—the Xi Charrian prelate, the Geonosian Archduke, even a couple of mistrustful and dangerous-looking insectoid Colicoids, from the Colicoid Creation Nest. “We will not be denied,” Plagueis was saying with unusual annoyance. “We will have our way in the Senate, regardless of what the Gran Protectorate, Black Sun, and the rest wish to see happen. Let

Plagueis lowered his gaze to the courtyard. “The climate begins to shift, Darth Sidious. The body politic begins to show signs of contagion. The reemergence of anger, hatred, and fear signal a loss of faith in the Force. The light is waning, pushed into retreat by dark matter, and the universe begins to seem inimical rather than comforting. In such times, beings are wont to look for solutions in the enactment of harsh laws, the ostracism of strangers, and warfare. Once the Republic has fallen, the Jedi are but a memory, and beings have nowhere to turn but to us, we will provide them with a sense of stability and order: a list of enemies, weapons capable of decimating entire star systems, durasteel prisons in which they can feel secure.” He gestured to the courtyard. “Look how they hunger for the dark.”

Together and separately we will see to that, and once we’ve put these Senate issues behind us, we will set the stage for the next act. With the promise of unlimited funding, guilds and unions will ally, and the hive species will turn pincer and claw to the manufacture of weapons, even in the absence of conflict, let alone all-out war.” Doubt tugged at the corners of Sidious’s mouth. “The Jedi won’t simply stand by and do nothing, Master. While I have no affection for them, I do respect their power. And weakening the Republic without weakening the Jedi could provide them with justification for attempting a coup. They have the numbers to succeed.” Plagueis took it under advisement. “Their time is coming, Sidious. The signs are in the air. Their Order might have already been decimated had it not been for the setback Darth Gravid dealt the Sith.

Tenebrous and his Master most of all, though they wasted years attempting to create a targeted virus that could be deployed against the Jedi, separating them from the Force. As if there were some organic difference between the practitioners of the light and dark sides; as if we communicate with the dark side through a different species of cellular intermediaries! When, in fact, we are animated by the same power that drives the passion of these beings gathered below. Target midi-chlorians and we target life itself.” “An attack of that sort would fail, regardless,” Sidious said, as if thinking out loud. “The Jedi are widely scattered, and it’s unlikely that we would be able to act quickly enough to kill all of them in the same instant. We would need to assign an individual assassin to each, and there would be no way to still the tongues of that many assassins. Our

Plagueis paced away from the turret’s window, his hands interlocked behind his back. “We don’t want them to die too quickly in any case. Not, that is, until the Republic has been so ravaged, so weakened, that beings will willingly embrace the stability we impose.” “Are the weapons that will be produced by the Colicoids and the others meant ultimately to be used against the Jedi?” “We shall see what comes to pass. Until such time we must accept the fact that no mere army can overwhelm the Jedi. The ancient Sith were tens of thousands strong and failed the test. Once the galaxy teemed with warriors and warships. Now we have only isolated bands of mercenaries and star system defense forces. That’s why we must strive to return the galaxy to a state where barbarism is the norm.”

“Great care has to be taken not to turn them into martyrs, Darth Sidious—if in the end we want the beings of the galaxy to turn their backs to the light side of the Force.” “Forceful beings will continue to be born.” “In the absence of training and brainwashing, they will pose no harm to us. You will see to that, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.” Sidious looked at the floor and shook his head. “You should be the one, Master.” “No,” Plagueis said firmly. “It must be you. You have the political skills, and more to the point, you are a human. In this era only a human is capable of rising to the top of Coruscant’s biased political heap.” “Human or not, my knowledge of the dark side will never equal yours. The title, the crown, should be yours.”