Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

to keep you in reserve.”
    “But—”
    “Be patient. You will have a part to play in this.”
    Sidious settled into a high-backed chair that wrapped around him like a throne and had a remote control built into one of the arms, his thoughts set aswirl by what he was about to do. Had Plagueis felt the enormity of the moment on Naboo all those years before when he had revealed his true self; removed, for the first time, the mask he wore in public? As empowering as it might have been, had the moment also been tainted by a kind of nostalgia; the loss of something so personal, so defining? What had been secret would never be secret again …
    The comm caught Viceroy Nute Gunray in the midst of eating, and without the ear-flapped tiara and ornate azurestone collar that made him look like a jester. “Greetings, Viceroy,” Sidious said.
    The nictitating membranes of the Neimoidian’s crimson eyes went into spasm, and his mottled muzzle twitched. “What? What? This is a secure address. How did you—”
    “Don’t bother attempting to trace the origin of this communication,” Sidious said, while Gunray’s tapered gray fingers flew across the keypad of his holotable. “A trace will only lead you in circles and waste what limited time we have.”
    “How dare you intrude—”
    “Recently, I sent you a gift. A red-spotted pylat.”
    Gunray stared. “You? You sent it?”
    “I trust you had sense enough to have it scanned for monitoring devices.”
    Gunray whirled to look at something off cam; probably the crested bird itself. “Of course I did. What was your purpose in sending it?” His accent elongated the words and softened the T sounds.
    “Consider it a token of my appreciation for the unrewarded work you have done for the Trade Federation. The directorate fails to recognize your contributions.”
    “They—that is, I … Why are you hiding inside the cowl of your cloak?”
    “It is the clothing of my Order, Viceroy.”
    “You are a cleric?”
    “Do I seem a holy man to you?”
    Gunray’s expression soured. “I demand to see your face.”
    “You have yet to earn the privilege of seeing me.”
    “Privilege? Who do you think you are?”
    “Are you certain you want to know?”
    “I demand to know.”
    Sidious’s smile barely escaped the cowl. “Even better, then. I am a Sith Lord.”
    There. I said it .
    I said it …
    “Sith Lord?” Gunray repeated.
    The response came from deep inside him, from the center of his true being. “You have permission to refer to me as Darth Sidious.”
    “I’ve not heard of Darth Sidious.”
    “Ah, but now that you have, our partnership is forged.”
    Gunray shook his head. “I am not looking for a partner.”
    Sidious showed some of his face. “Don’t pretend to be content with your position in the Trade Federation, or that you are without aspirations. We are now partners in the future.”
    Gunray made a hissing sound. “This is a joke. The Sith have been extinct for a thousand years.”
    “That’s precisely what the Republic and the Jedi Order would like you to believe, but we never disappeared. Through the centuries we have taken up just causes and revealed ourselves to select beings like yourself.”
    Gunray sat back in his chair. “I don’t understand. Why me?”
    “You and I share an avid interest in where the Republic is headed, and I have deemed it time that we begin to work in concert.”
    “I won’t be part of any covert schemes.”
    “Truly?” Sidious said. “Do you think that out of millions of influential beings I would choose you without knowing you inside and out? I realize that your voracious desires stem from the cruel conditions of your upbringing—you and your fellow grubs in ruthless competition for limited supplies of fungus. But I understand. We are all shaped by our infantile desires, our longing for affection and attention, our fears of death. And judging by how far you have come, it’s clear that youwere unrivaled and continue to be. Your years in the Senate, for example. The clandestine meetings in the Claus Building, the Follin Restaurant in the Crimson Corridor, the funds you diverted to Pax Teem and Aks Moe, the secret dealings with Damask Holdings, the assassination of Vidar Kim—”
    “Enough! Enough! Do you mean to blackmail me?”
    Sidious delayed his reply. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me when I spoke of a partnership.”
    “I heard you. Now tell me what you want of me.”
    “Nothing more than your cooperation.