Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

security cam mounted highon the inner wall and aimed at the doorway, dazzling the mechanism and freezing the image of an unoccupied antechamber. Then, placing his left hand at the center of the glass, he called on the Force, pushing inward on the pane until it broke free of the adhesive weatherseal that held it in place. Telekinetically, he manipulated the intact pane to rest atop a table snugged to the opposite wall of the antechamber, and slipped through the opening. For a long moment he remained on the inner windowsill, waiting for his cloak and boots to dry and studying the patterned floor and double doors for evidence of additional security devices. Satisfied that the stunned cam was all there was, he planted his feet on the floor and walked to the doors, using the Force to trick them into opening just enough to accommodate his passing between them.
    The only light in Veruna’s enormous bedroom came from a cam similar to the one in the antechamber, and just as easily foiled. The former King himself was sleeping on his back under shimmersilk sheets in the center of a canopied bed large enough to fit half a dozen humans of average size. Plagueis disabled a bedside panel of security alarms, moved an antique chair to the foot of the bed, and switched on a table lamp that supplied dim, yellowish light. Then, sitting down, he roused Veruna from sleep.
    The old man woke with a start, blinking in response to the light, then propping himself up against a gathering of pillows to scan the room. His eyes widened in thunderstruck surprise when they found Plagueis seated at the edge of the light’s reach.
    “Who—”
    “Hego Damask, Your Majesty. Beneath this mask my former enemies may as well have fashioned for me.”
    Since Veruna’s eyes couldn’t open any wider, his jaw dropped and he flailed for the security control panels, slamming his hand down on the buttons when they didn’t respond.
    “I’ve rendered them inoperative,” Plagueis explained, “along with the security cams. Just so that you and I could converse without being interrupted.”
    Veruna swallowed and found his voice. “How did you get past my guards, Damask?”
    “We’ll come to that in a moment.”
    “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 with a similar choice, I might have done the same. The difference is that I would have succeeded where you failed.”
    “I’ll remain here,” Veruna said in a grasping way. “I won’t cause you or Palpatine any more trouble.”
    “That’s true.” Plagueis paused, then said, “Perhaps I should have been more honest with you from the start. I delivered the Trade Federation to you; I put Tapalo, then you on the throne. How did you imagine I came by such power?”
    Veruna ran a trembling hand over his thinning hair. “You were born the son of a wealthy Muun, and transformed that wealth into power.”
    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