Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

clients who desire cloned creatures, or require cloned laborers capable of working in harsh environments.”
    The Jedi shook his head in uncertainty. “What does this have to do with anything?”
    “I believe that the Kaminoans could be induced to grow and train a cloned army.”
    Sifo-Dyas took a long moment to reply. “You said yourself that the Republic would never sanction an army.”
    “The Republic needn’t know,” Damask said cautiously. “Neither would the Jedi Order have to know. It would be an army that might never have to be used, and yet be available in reserve should need ever arise.”
    “Who in their right mind would fund an army that might never be used?”
    “I would,” Damask said. “Along with some of my associates in the Banking Clan—and in conjunction with contacts in Rothana Heavy Engineering, which would supply the ships, armaments, and other matériel.”
    Sifo-Dyas fixed him with a look. “Come to the point, Magister.”
    “The Kaminoans will not create an army for me, but they would do so for the Jedi Order. They have been fascinated by the Jedi for millennia.”
    Sifo-Dyas’s dark brown eyes widened. “You’re not proposing cloning Jedi—”
    “No. I have been assured that such a thing is impossible, in any case. But I have also been assured that a human army a million strong could be ready for deployment in as few as ten years.”
    “You’re suggesting that I circumvent the High Council.”
    “I suppose I am. The Kaminoans need only a modest down payment, which I could provide to you through untraceable accounts I maintain in Outer Rim banks.”
    Again, the Jedi remained silent for a long moment. “I need time to consider this.”
    “Of course you do,” Damask said. “And when you’ve reached a decision, you can contact me at my residence downside.”
    Sifo-Dyas nodded in glum introspection, and Damask spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. Palpatine was just returning to the place where they had been standing earlier, his eyes and his movements suggesting unusual excitement.
    “You have the holocron?” Damask said as he approached.
    “Yes, but not from Maul.”
    Damask waited for an explanation.
    “It was dropped into my hand by none other than the information broker Maul had been pursuing and thought dead—Lorn Pavan. The fact that Pavan’s right hand had been cleanly and recently amputated told me at once that the two fought in one of the air locks.”
    “This Pavan defeated Maul?”
    Palpatine shook his head. “But I suspect that Pavan somehow managed to outwit him and take him by surprise.”
    “Incredible,” Damask said, astonished that events could become even more convoluted. “Then Pavan must know what the holocron contains.”
    “I’m supposed to deliver it to the Jedi,” Palpatine said with obvious amusement; and looking around, added, “Perhaps to Yoda or Windu …”
    “Pavan,” Damask snapped.
    Palpatine squared his shoulders. “Pestage and Doriana are escorting him downside, where he’ll receive medical attention, maybe even a new hand, and a comfortable hotel suite in which to spend the final day of his life.”
    “A reward we should withhold from Maul, but probably won’t.”Damask glanced at Palpatine. “In any event, it wasn’t Pavan who handed you the holocron. It was delivered by the dark side.”
    Palpatine thought about it for a moment. “And Sifo-Dyas? Will he do it?”
    “Even if he decides against it, there may be a way to place the order in his name. But the Force tells me that he will do it.”
    “That will make him a potential danger to us.”
    Damask nodded. “But it won’t matter. We have become invincible.”
    This will never do , Palpatine thought as he sat opposite Valorum in the Supreme Chancellor’s cloudcutting office in the Senate Building, listening to him drone on about his troubles with the Ethics Committee.
    The view through the large triangular windows was pleasant enough, but the office was far too small. Worse, it felt more like a relic from a bygone age rather than a nerve center for the New Order. No amount of remodeling could transform it into the space Palpatine imagined for himself. Perhaps a new building was required; an annex of sorts or, better still, an executive office building—if only to grant those who would work there the illusion that their pitiful efforts mattered …
    “The deeper my lawyers and accountants pursue this matter, the more dead ends they