Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

low-impact freighters, the port was a haven for drugged and abducted crew members, itinerant workers, and undocumented migrants of diverse species, most of whom were in search of steerage passage to distant worlds.
    Glad to be released from the sky-cab, Palpatine edged his way into the crowds and set a course for the headquarters of the Refugee Relief Movement, whose stark offices were tucked under the port’s recessed upper level. Halfway to his destination he spied the stout Naboo he had come to see, standing alongside his slender wife and issuing commands to a group of young volunteers. Adopting an expression of good cheer and waving a hand in the air, Palpatine shouted, “Ruwee.”
    The man swung to the sound of his voice and smiled broadly. “Palpatine!”
    President of the RRM, Ruwee Naberrie had a large square head, thin lips, a clean-shaven face, and short hair clipped in high bangs. A onetime mountain man, a builder by trade, and a frequent guest lecturer on microeconomics at Theed University, he was not easily fooled, and his default expression was one of sincerity. The nonprofit organization he directed was devoted to providing aid for Coruscant’s billions of lower-tier dwellers.
    “What a happy coincidence,” Ruwee said, pumping Palpatine’s hand. The two Naboo were close in age, but Ruwee was a product of public education rather than the series of private institutions young Palpatine had attended. “You remember Jobal?”
    A tall woman with a triangular-shaped face and wide-spaced and compassionate eyes, she was allowing herself to age gracefully, though her long hair was still dark and luxuriant. Married to Ruwee by arrangement, she was every bit as serious as he was, and equally committed to the refugee movement.
    “Of course,” Palpatine said. Bowing his head, he added, “Madame Naberrie.”
    She made a move to hug him, then thought better of it and simply smiled in acknowledgment. “How good to see you again, Senator.”
    Ruwee touched him on the back. “I never had a chance to thank youin person for allowing me to address the Senate about the refugee crisis on Sev Tok.”
    Palpatine shrugged it off. “It was my honor to be affiliated with such a worthy cause. Speaking of which, Onaconda Farr sends his regards.”
    “Rodia should be proud of him,” Ruwee said. “One of the few in the Senate who recognizes that good fortune should not be taken for granted but should serve as an impetus for bringing comfort to those less fortunate.”
    Palpatine smiled tightly.
    “What brings you to the docks, Senator?” Jobal asked.
    “More than coincidence, m’lady. In fact, a matter of utmost urgency that involves your daughter, Padmé.”
    “She’s here,” Ruwee said.
    Palpatine looked at him. “On Coruscant?”
    “Here, at Tannik.” He pointed to a nearby dock, where an energetic dark-haired girl was directing an antigrav pallet of foodstuffs into the bay of a waiting freighter. Catching sight of her father, Padmé waved.
    “Who is the young man with her?” Palpatine asked.
    “Ian Lago,” Jobal said.
    Palpatine sharpened his vision. “The son of King Veruna’s counselor?”
    Jobal nodded. “He’s become a bit lovesick.”
    “And Padmé with him?”
    “We hope not,” Ruwee said. “Ian’s a nice boy, but … Well, let’s just say that Kun Lago would not be happy to learn that his son has been fraternizing with the enemy, so to speak.”
    Realizing that young Ian was eyeing him with sudden interest, Palpatine returned the look for a moment, then said, “This brings me directly to the point of my visit. As you’re no doubt aware, our King has instructed me to support the Trade Federation on the issue of taxation of the free-trade zones.”
    “Of course he would,” Ruwee said with clear disdain. “How otherwise would Veruna continue to line the pockets of his robes with kickbacks.”
    Palpatine nodded. “You and I and some of the nobles know as much. But now may be the time to let the rest of Naboo in on his secrets.”
    Jobal’s expression soured. “If you’re talking about challenging him in the coming election, you’re facing a lost cause.”
    “I beg to disagree, madame,” Palpatine said. “With discretion I have already approached several members of the electorate, and they concur that Veruna can be defeated by the right candidate.”
    When he cut his gaze to Padmé, Ruwee’s mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”
    “But I am, Ruwee. A member of the