Darth Plagueis

by James Luceno

Also in those twenty years, Palpatine had sat—and admittedly napped—through the orations, diatribes, and filibusters of countless beings, as well as State of the Republic addresses by four Supreme Chancellors: Darus, Frix, Kalpana, and Finis Valorum. The last was nearing completion of a second term of office that had been beset with challenges, most of which could be traced—but wouldn’t be for decades to come—to the machinations of Hego Damask and his secret conspirator, Palpatine, in their guises as Sith Lords Plagueis and Sidious. But in fact, half the Senators in the Rotunda were leading double lives of one sort or another: pledging themselves to preserve the Republic while at the same time accepting bribes from the Trade Federation, facilitating slavery and the smuggling of spice and death sticks, or abetting the operations of pirates.

From the Rotunda’s tall pulpit, Supreme Chancellor Valorum was saying, “The crisis unfolding in the Yinchorr system offers further proof that, in our determination to maintain an era of prosperity in the Core, we have allowed the outer systems to become lawless realms, with pirates, slavers, smugglers, and arms merchants operating with impunity. Proscribed matériel and technologies find their way to species whose appeals for Republic aid have gone unanswered, and the outcome is antagonism and intersystem conflict. Brought together by mutual need, alliances of forgotten worlds turn to the galactic cartels to furnish what we have denied them: growth, protection, and security—along with weapons and combat training.” He gestured broadly to near and distant Senatorial platforms. “While we sit in cool comfort, a confederacy of the disenfranchised expands in the Outer Rim.”

Across the Rotunda from Naboo’s station, Yinchorr’s platform stood vacant—the result of the Yinchorri severing ties with the Republic six months earlier and recalling their diplomatic staff. Six months before that, and armed with weapons Darth Sidious had helped them procure, the Yinchorri had launched attacks on several worlds in neighboring systems. Supplied by a Devaronian smuggler, the clandestine shipments had included a cortosis shield from a secret mining operation on the planet Bal’demnic, and had factored into the deaths of a pair of unsuspecting Jedi.

“Since Yinchorr became a member world twenty-five years ago,” Valorum continued, “and notwithstanding the sanctions we attempted to impose, we have allowed the Yinchorri to transform themselves into a militaristic force that now threatens a vast region of Republic space. Just six months ago, when they augmented their navy with vessels commandeered from the Golden Nyss shipyards, we voted to censure them rather than intercede, in adherence to an antiquated belief that responsibility for policing the outer systems rests with the worlds that make up those systems.

The shouts of assent and condemnation that met Valorum’s request were genuine, as were the Bothan vice chancellor’s calls for order. Finally, Valorum raised his voice to be heard. “Militant expansionism cannot be tolerated! Precedent for the use of paramilitaries was established under Supreme Chancellor Kalpana during the Stark Combine Conflict, as well as in the more recent Yam’rii crisis. In both cases, diplomatic solutions followed, and it is my belief that diplomacy will succeed in the Yinchorr system.” Valorum’s political career had been forged during the Stark Hyperspace War. Now, Palpatine thought, he begins to sound like his onetime rival Ranulph Tarkin.

The Trade Federation’s Senator was an unctuous Neimoidian named Lott Dod, whose sussurant, snake charmer’s voice wafted through the hall’s enunciators. “I must protest the Supreme Chancellor’s accusations.” His words didn’t convey anger so much as the arrogance of wealth—a strategy he had learned from his predecessor, Nute Gunray. “Should the Trade Federation be expected to absorb the losses it has sustained because of pirate attacks? The Republic refuses to create a military to police those sectors while at the same time prohibiting us from protecting our cargoes with defensive weapons or droid soldiers.”

Palpatine’s eyes sparkled in sadistic delight. Valorum was getting everything he deserved. He had demonstrated some diplomatic skill during the Stark Hyperspace War, but his election to the chancellorship had more to do with a pedigree that included three Supreme Chancellors and deals he had cut with influential families like the Kalpanas and the Tarkins of Eriadu. His adulation of the Jedi Order was well known; less so his hypocrisy—much of his family wealth derived from lucrative contracts his ancestors had entered into with the Trade Federation. His election seven years earlier had been one of the signs Plagueis had been waiting for—the return to power of a Valorum—and had followed on the heels of a remarkable breakthrough Plagueis and Sidious had engineered in manipulating midi-chlorians. A breakthrough the Muun had described as “galactonic.” Both of them suspected that the Jedi had sensed it as well, light-years distant on Coruscant.

“There will be no Republic military,” Valorum was saying, having taken Argente’s bait. “The Ruusan Reformations must be upheld. A military force has to be financed. Taxes imposed on the outlying systems would only add to their burden and lead to talk of secession.” “Then let the Core Worlds pay!” someone seated below Palpatine shouted. “The Core has no need of a military force!” the Kuati Senator responded. “We know how to live in peace with one another!” “Why are the Jedi unable to serve as a military?” the Senator from Ord Mantell asked. Valorum turned to look at him. “The Jedi are not an army, and they number too few, in any case. They intercede at our request, but also at their own discretion. Furthermore, the Order has seen more deaths in the past twelve years than it saw in the previous fifty. Yinchorr is fast shaping up to be another Galidraan.”

Most important, for Plagueis the provincial conflict had had a devastating effect on Jedi Master Dooku, deepening his schism with the High Council regarding its decisions to deploy the Jedi as warriors.

Palpatine reclined in the platform’s padded seat as angry rebuttals spewed from the stations of the Rim Faction worlds, as well as from those belonging to the Trade Federation, the Commerce Guild, the Techno Union, and the Corporate Alliance. How wonderfully and predictably the Senate had deteriorated over the course of twenty years. As had so many ordinary and extraordinary sessions, this one would end in chaos, with nothing resolved. For the screens that filled the Rotunda, hovercams captured Valorum’s sad expression of impotence. Soon, very soon, it would fall to Palpatine to impose order on everyone.

Outside the curved walls of the Senate, the crises in the outlying systems had little effect on the lives of the billions who resided on Coruscant. Beings living in the lower levels continued to do their best to survive, while those living closer to the sky continued to spend lavishly on food, fine cloaks, and tickets to the opera, which Valorum had returned to fashion. Palpatine was an exception to the rule. In what sometimes seemed to him like perpetual motion, he met frequently with his peers in the Senate, listening carefully to what each had to say about galactic events, but not so carefully that any had reason to suspect him of being anything other than a career politician, fixed on enhancing his profile. If there was anything that set him apart, it was an impression he gave of taking his job perhaps too seriously. With just over a year remaining in Valorum’s second term of office, the chancellorship was up for grabs, and those who knew Palpatine best suspected that he might actually pursue the position if asked. His equivocations on the matter only made

Several days after the Senate met in special session, Palpatine violated the privacy he so valued to host an informal gathering in his suite in 500 Republica. The move to Coruscant’s most exclusive address had coincided with Ars Veruna’s ascent to the Naboo monarchy twelve years earlier. Veruna’s victory had hinged on a renegotiated contract with the Trade Federation for Naboo’s plasma, although it was widely believed that the King and his cronies had fared better from the deal than the citizens of Naboo. Unlike the apartment Palpatine had occupied when he first arrived on the capital world, this one had a dozen rooms and views of the government district surpassed only by those from the building’s spacious penthouses. The neuranium-and-bronzium statue of Sistros—which still concealed the lightsaber he had constructed early in his apprenticeship—shared

Taria spoke before Valorum could. “The title of the latest HoloNet piece about you, if I’m not mistaken. The Senator who turned his back on a vast fortune to devote himself to politics. Who worked his way up from Naboo’s legislative body to the ambassadorship to the Galactic Senate …” She smiled without showing her teeth. “A heartwarming story.”

“And every word of it true,” Palpatine said. “From a certain point of view.”

When Valorum’s trophy excused herself to make conversation with the wife of Alderaanian Senator Bail Antilles, Palpatine steered Valorum into the suite’s main room.

Valorum considered it. “I knew when my first term began that I would face opposition; that events had been spiraling out of control since the Stark Conflict. But since then I’ve sensed a darkness approaching from the outer reaches of the galaxy to shake Coruscant to its foundations. You would think, after a thousand years of peace, that the Republic would be unshakable, but that isn’t the case. I’ve always placed my faith in the Force, believing that if I acted in accordance with its guiding principles, the galaxy would act in kind.”

Valorum nodded in a distracted way. “We can’t stand by and do nothing. The Jedi express as much in private, and yet even they are divided. If Master Dooku becomes any more vocal in his criticisms of the Senate and the Order, the Council may have to restrict him to the Temple.” He fell silent, then said, “Well, I certainly don’t have to tell you. People tell me you’ve become his confidant.” Instead of responding to that comment, Palpatine said, “And Master Yoda?” “Inscrutable as ever,” Valorum said. “But troubled, I think.”

Palpatine turned away from him slightly. “The Jedi have faced down darkness in the past.” “True. But a study of history reveals that they have been defeated by it, as well.” “Then the outcome is not in our grasp.” Valorum raised his gaze to the night sky. “Whose, then?”

Maul had been nonplussed by his Master’s decision to reveal himself to the group’s leader, as Darth Sidious had done in his initial communication with Gunray; then dismayed to learn that the leader—a human named Havac—had betrayed Darth Sidious by attempting to assassinate Supreme Chancellor Valorum on Coruscant. The realization that his Master could be deceived, that he wasn’t infallible, had had a curious effect on Maul.

revenge was to be meted out. What, then, if—beyond contemplation—something untoward should befall his Master? Was there a contingency plan? Unlike Darth Sidious, who masqueraded as Republic Senator Palpatine and debated complex issues in the Senate, Maul lacked a secret identity. With his yellow eyes and horned head a black-and-red mask of arcane sigils, it was all he could do to prowl the fringes of The Works in the dead of night without instilling fear in nearly every being whose gaze he caught.

Padmé Naberrie

Palpatine conjured a smile. “The Naboo will be pleased to see that your space force is good for something, Majesty.” Veruna’s bloated face flushed. “More than you know. I told you that I meant to end our partnership with the Trade Federation and Hego Damask, and so I shall.” Palpatine glanced at the Hutt and her Bando Gora minions. “With the help of your new partners. And what will you do—chase the Trade Federation’s freighters out of the Chommel sector? Challenge Damask openly?” “Damask has betrayed everyone. Ask Gardulla. Ask Alexi Garyn. The Muun should have learned a lesson thirty years ago from the Gran who targeted him.” Palpatine took secret pleasure in the remark. And you commit the same egregious blunders they did. “What makes you think he didn’t?”

underestimated … your ambitions.” Veruna locked eyes with him. “Don’t concern yourself unduly, Palpatine. You won’t be seeing him again.”

For some time he had been aware that Sidious had grown critical of his fixation with unraveling the secrets of life and death. Surely Sidious felt as if Plagueis had made himself too much of a project, often to the neglect of the Grand Plan; that Plagueis had come to place more importance on his own survival than that of the Sith. Meanwhile, to Sidious had fallen the responsibility for arranging and executing the schemes that would place the two of them in power on Coruscant. Sidious directing galactic events in much the same way that Plagueis was overseeing the currents of the dark side. And yet the arrangement was as it should be, for Sidious had a gift for subterfuge that surpassed the talents of any of the Sith Lords who had preceded him, including Bane. Plagueis found irony in the fact that Sidious had come to feel about him as he himself had felt about Tenebrous at the end of his long apprenticeship. Tenebrous trusted more in Bith science and computer projections than he had in the Sith arts … But Plagueis understood, too, that the time had come for him to rejoin the world and stand with Sidious to see this most important phase of the plan to fruition: Palpatine’s ascendancy to the chancellorship and the unprecedented appointment of Hego Damask as co-chancellor of the Republic. Ageless Hego Damask, as it would ultimately emerge. When that was behind them, they could turn to the bigger task of obliterating the Jedi Order.

At Galidraan, in clandestine partnership with the local governor and members of the Death Watch to lure the Jedi into an ultimately hopeless confrontation with the True Mandalorians; at Yinchorr and Malastare; and most recently, through Sidious’s efforts, at Asmeru and Eriadu. Already strong in the Force, trained in combat, and a diplomat, as well, Dooku might have made for a powerful partner under different circumstances. Except for the fact that Dooku, unlike the Dathomiri Zabrak whom Sidious had trained, would never be content to serve as an apprentice or a mere assassin. He would demand to become a true Sith, and that would lead to trouble. A better course of action would be to allow Dooku to find his own way to the dark side—whatever version of it might be accessible to him through study of the Sith Holocrons the Jedi possessed. Better to have him leave the Order of his own accord and become the benevolent spokesperson for the disenfranchised, as one might expect from a being of high status. Yes, better to let him persuade worlds and systems to secede from the Republic and foment a civil war into which the Jedi could be drawn … The sudden blare of klaxons put an abrupt end to his musings. Time is short. OneOne-FourDee returned, moving quickly for a droid. “Five battleships have been detected, Magister.” “Ahead of schedule.” “Perhaps your enemies received intelligence that their attack plan had been compromised.” “A sound speculation, FourDee. Is the ship ready?”

hurling vegetation and igniting firestorms. Another extinction for some of the creatures that had been cloned exclusively for the moon, Plagueis thought. A second onslaught of laser beams struck the tower where he had passed so many hours in contemplation, toppling it into the courtyard.

Plagueis sat in enraged disbelief. Somehow, Veruna and his cohorts—Gardulla, Black Sun, and the Bando Gora—had gotten their hands on a proscribed nuclear device. None of the Sun Guards could have survived the blast; but then they didn’t deserve to. Nuclear weapons were scarce, and the Echani had obviously neglected to check with the few black-market suppliers that had access to them. A pillar of roiling fire and smoke was clawing into the sky, fanning out in the thinning atmosphere to become a mushroom-shaped cloud. The greel forests were blackened wastelands; the fort was slagged and turned to glass. Deeply moved, Plagueis realized that he hadn’t experienced such powerful emotions since he had bid good-bye to Mygeeto so many decades earlier and placed himself in the care of Darth Tenebrous.

“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.”

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.

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.

“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 a great debt.” “I spoke briefly with Veruna from the Hutt’s ship.” Sidious grinned slightly. “I suspected as much when I learned just prior to the summit that he had abdicated, and that Padmé Naberri had been appointed Queen. He has apparently hidden himself away in Naboo’s Western Reaches.” “That’s not hiding,” Plagueis said with a note of menace. “All went well on Eriadu?” “Better than expected, what with the Jedi running in circles and convinced that Valorum was the target. I savored their dismayed incredulity on learning that the droids had emptied their weapons on the members of the directorate. In the end, the leaders of the Nebula Front died, as well, and our friend Wilhuff Tarkin is making matters difficult for Republic investigators.

“Precisely where we want him: leader by default of the Trade Federation, and busy acquiring the droid weapons the Senate will sanction. Where the Neimoidians should be grateful to Senator Palpatine for proposing the summit, they are instead furious. Everything is in place for launching the blockade.” “Almost everything,” Plagueis said. “First, there is the matter of our revenge.” “Shall I task Maul to pay Veruna a visit?” Plagueis shook his head. “I intend to see to him personally. Is the Zabrak—Maul, as you call him—capable of dealing with Alexi Garyn and his Vigos?” “He will not fail us.”

“I have promised Gardulla to Jabba. As for the Bando Gora …” Plagueis rose from the chair, walked to the curtained windows, and peered outside. “There is a rumor worth pursuing that Master Dooku’s former apprentice, Komari Vosa, is not only alive but the cult’s newest leader, and eager to avenge herself on the Jedi Order for having abandoned her and her comrades on Baltizaar.” “Vosa turning to the dark side,” Sidious said, as if thinking aloud. “Dooku trained her better than he knows.” “Yes, but she is a fallen Jedi, not a Sith. We will exact revenge on the Bando Gora at another time.” Sidious stood up and joined Plagueis at the parted curtains. “I will inform Viceroy Gunray to prepare his armed ships for relocation to the Naboo system.”

Maul scowled. “A Nightsister is not a Sith.” Sidious’s eyes narrowed. “As you well know. But as on Dorvalla, take care to leave no witnesses.” Maul showed his sharpened teeth. “It shall be done. And Black Sun will cease to be an impediment.” Sidious nodded. “Then be on your way, Darth Maul. The dark side is with you.”

Sidious recalled the voyages he had taken ten years earlier to watch Maul fight in gladiatorial matches on Orsis and nearby worlds. Driven to win against all odds, unaffected by pain, daring, and terrifying. An up-and-coming contender at ten years of age and a champion at twelve. Under the markings that masked his face, sleeved his arms, and twisted around his legs and torso, the scars of those battles to the death. But this one will not be content until he has killed a Jedi Master, Sidious thought. Assuming that pride didn’t defeat him first.

What would become of Maul once Palpatine and Damask assumed control of the Republic? he asked himself. As a secret weapon, he would continue to be useful, but could he ever be eased into public life? How would he react to learning that his Master answered to a Master?

For twenty years he had enjoyed living a double life, but now he felt an urge to be known for who he was, and feared for how powerful he could be. He directed his thoughts forward in time, yearning for a clear vision of the future, but none came. Did the dark side blind even its most devoted advocates to what was looming on the horizon? Plagueis had said that they needed to be prepared for sudden eventualities. Was he withholding knowledge of events he knew were imminent?

A touch of his forefinger activated the holoprojector, and moments later a half-sized eidolon of Nute Gunray resolved in midair. As in recent transmissions, the viceroy’s Neimoidian underlings, chief litigator Rune Haako, Captain Daultay Dofine, and Deputy Viceroy Hath Monchar were hovering in the background. “Lord Sidious,” Gunray said, with a slight stammer in his voice. “We have been waiting—” “Do you imagine yourself centermost in my thoughts that I should neglect other matters to communicate with you precisely on time?”

“No, Lord Sidious, I simply meant to say—” “Are you gratified with your new position, Viceroy?” “Very gratified. Though I appear to have inherited control of the Trade Federation at a time of crisis.” “Save your whining for another occasion, Viceroy, for matters are about to become worse.” Gunray’s nictitating membranes spasmed. “Worse? How can that be?” “The Republic Senate is on the verge of passing legislation that will enact taxation of the free-trade zones.” “This is an outrage!” “To be sure. But I warned you that this was coming. Supreme Chancellor Valorum has lost all credibility, and after what occurred at Eriadu, the Senate is determined to weaken the Trade Federation further. King Veruna may have been able to stall the Senate, but he has abdicated, and young Queen Amidala and Naboo’s Senator are leading the call for taxation. With the Senate preoccupied, the moment is right for you to begin assembling a fleet of armed freighters to impose a blockade.” “A blockade? Of what system, Lord Sidious?”

Does it not occur to you that your most valued investors are in a position to reap great profits from your knowledge of what is about to happen? Would they not profit from learning that the Xi Char, the Geonosians, and other unionized insectoids have turned their pincers and claws to the manufacture of weapons? Might you not balance your precious budget by gaining from other shipping companies what revenue the Trade Federation risks losing?” Gunray looked uncertain. “We feared that such actions might undermine the element of surprise, Lord Sidious.”

lowered the cowl. Was this a vision of the future? A life of micromanaging the affairs of incompetent beings while he and Plagueis set in motion the final phases of the Grand Plan? Or was there perhaps some other way for him to govern, in malevolent satisfaction?

“Magne—” Veruna attempted to scream until his voice went mute and he clutched at his throat. “There will be none of that,” Plagueis warned. “What do you want with me, Damask?” Veruna asked when he could, breathing hard. “Closure.” Veruna stared at him in disbelief. “You got what you wanted. Isn’t it enough that I abdicated?” “Your abdication would have been enough, had you not tried first to have me killed.” Veruna gritted his teeth. “Everything I built was in jeopardy of being taken from me—even the monarchy! You left me no choice!” Plagueis stood and reseated himself on the edge of the bed, like some macabre confessor. “I understand. Faced

Plagueis made a sound of disappointment. “Have you not yet learned that the galaxy isn’t moved by credits alone?” Veruna gulped and found his voice. “How did you come by such power, Damask?” he asked in a whisper of genuine interest. “I was shown the way to power by a Bith named Rugess Nome.” “I know the name.” “Yes, but his true name was Darth Tenebrous, and he wore the mantle of the Dark Lord of the Sith. I was at one time his apprentice.” “Sith,” Veruna said, as if weakened by the very word.

“Had you known, would you have allied with me?” Veruna marshaled the strength to shake his head. “Political power is one thing, but what you represent …” Plagueis made his lips a thin line. “I appreciate your honesty, Veruna. Are you beginning to tire of my presence?” “Not … of you,” Veruna said, with eyes half closed. “Let me explain what is happening to you,” Plagueis said. “The cells that make up all living things contain within them organelles known as midi-chlorians. They are, in addition to being the basis for life, the elements that enable beings like me to perceive and use the Force. As the result of a lifetime of study, I have learned how to manipulate midi-chlorians, and I have instructed the limited number you possess to return to their source. In plain Basic, Veruna, I am killing you.”

Veruna’s face was losing color, and his breathing had slowed. “Bring … me back. I can still be … of service … to you …” “But you are, Your Majesty. A celebrated ancient poet once said that every death lessened him, for he considered himself to be a brother to every living being. I, on the other hand, have come to understand that every death I oversee nourishes and empowers me, for I am a true Sith.” “No … better than … an Anzati.” “The brain eaters? What does better than mean to those of us who have passed beyond notions of good and evil? Are you better than Bon Tapalo? Are you better than Queen Padmé Amidala? I am the only one fi...

“Don’t do this … Damask. Please …” “I am Darth Plagueis, Veruna. Your shepherd.” As life left Veruna’s body, the path he and Plagueis followed wound deeper into darkness and absence. Then Plagueis stopped, overcome by a sudden sense that he had already seen and traveled this path. Had he? he wondered as Veruna breathed his last. Or had the Force afforded him a glimpse of the future?

Sidious feigned surprise. “So he was something of a challenge. Being slightly Force-sensitive.” “He was nothing compared with the power of the dark side.” Sidious studied him. “Did you tell him as much, my apprentice? Answer honestly.” “He came to the conclusion.” “He identified you as a Sith. Did he assume, then, that you were a Sith Lord?” Maul stared at the floor. “I—” “You revealed that you answer to a Master. Am I correct?” Maul forced himself to respond. “Yes, Master.” “And perhaps you went so far as to say something about the revenge of the Sith.” “I did, Master.” Sidious approached him, his face contorted in anger. “And if by some marvel Garyn had managed to escape, or even defeat the one-being army that is Darth Maul, what repercussions might we be facing, Apprentice?”

Maul remained silent. “I hope you thanked him before you killed him,” Sidious went on, “because he taught you a valuable lesson. When you face someone strong in the Force you must remain focused—even when you’re convinced that your opponent is incapacitated. Then is not the time to bask in the glory of your victory or draw out the moment. You must deliver a killing strike and be done with it. Reserve your self-praise for after the fact, or you will suffer more than a hand wound.” “I will remember, Master.”

true identity? Had Plagueis done so before killing Veruna? Had he felt compelled to come out from behind his mask? To be honest? Or was Maul’s revelation to Garyn nothing more than a symptom of the dark side’s growing impatience, and its demand for full disclosure?

Sise Fromm will inherit the dregs.” “Again, the Zabrak proves his value,” Damask said. “You trained him well.” “Perhaps not well enough,” Palpatine said after a moment. “While I was questioning him about a wound he received, he confessed to having divulged his identity to Alexi Garyn.” Angling his masked face away from Palpatine, Damask said, “Garyn is dead. What does it matter now?” The Muun’s flippant tone put Palpatine further on edge, but his composure held. “This may be the last time I’m permitted to appear in public without armed escort,” he said in a casual way. “When Queen Amidala informed me of Veruna’s unexpected death, she mentioned that her new chief of security—a man named Panaka—will be taking unprecedented steps to ensure the safety of all Naboo diplomats. The Queen, for example, is to be surrounded by a clutch of handmaidens, all of whom resemble her to some extent.” “And you’re to be chaperoned at all times?” Damask asked. “That won’t do.” “I’ll convince Panaka otherwise.”