Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

struck some visitors as reminiscent of the spoken language of thinking machines. Attending them were droids of all variety, and guest workers from the nearby worlds of Bescane, Jaemus, Entralla, and others. On any given day a visitor might spy envoys from Yagai, Gravlex Med, or Kalee, along with Hutts of the Drixo or Progga kin. But what one saw most, in overwhelming numbers, were members of the Banking Clan—financiers, accountants, lawyers—dressed in their signatory Palo fiduciary garb: formfitting green trousers and boots, round-collared green tunics, and flare-shouldered green cloaks. Some were accompanied by retinues of squat, dark-skinned, flat-nosed soldiers from the planet Iotra, sporting garish body armor and carrying ceremonial weapons.
    That day, cutting through the verdant sea like some predatory sea creature came a wedge-shaped cluster of Muuns dressed in black cloaks and skullcaps, guarded by a contingent of towheaded Echani warriors whose silver eyes darted vigilantly, and whose metallic bodysuits masked the translucency of their skin. At the leading edge of the wedge marched an elder Muun with a whiskered chin and stooped shoulders, who was making directly for High Port’s customs control station, where Hego Damask—as Plagueis was known to everyone but the late Darth Tenebrous—and 11-4D were waiting, amid a contingent of security personnel.
    “We came as soon as High Port Immigration notified us,” Larsh Hillsaid. “If you had contacted us from Deep Space Demolition, we could have sent a ship, rather than have you rely on Boss Cabra’s specious hospitality.”
    “No one seems to believe that I’m capable of finding my own way home,” Damask said.
    Hill’s long face wrinkled. “I don’t understand.”
    “It’s not important that you do. Suffice it to say that your dispatching a ship would only have resulted in further delay.” Like Hill and his coterie of half a dozen, Damask’s hairless head was encased in a tight-fitting bonnet, and the hem of his black cloak swept the polished floor.
    “You were expected days ago,” Hill said, with a note of exasperation.
    “Events of an unforeseen nature prevented me from returning earlier.”
    “A successful journey, nevertheless, I assume.”
    “You assume correctly.”
    Hill relaxed somewhat. “We shouldn’t tarry here any longer than necessary. Transport is waiting.”
    At Hill’s gesture, the black-cloaked Muuns began to angle toward the skyhook turbolifts, four of the silver-suited warriors falling in to flank Damask and the droid, which walked behind him.
    “You’re limping,” Hill said in hushed urgency. “Are you injured?”
    “Healing,” Damask said. “Make no further mention of it.”
    “We could postpone the Gathering—”
    “No. It will take place as scheduled.”
    “I’m relieved to hear that,” Hill said, “since several of your guests are already in transit to Sojourn.”
    The group was halfway to the turbolifts when a faction of Banking Clan officials deliberately cut across their path, forcing them to halt. The faction’s obvious leader, a Muun of middle age, separated himself from the rest and moved to the front.
    “Magister Damask,” he said. “What a surprise to encounter you here, among the rabble.”
    Damask adopted a faint grin. “Excluding yourself, of course, Chairman Tonith.”
    Tonith stiffened. “We’re simply passing through.”
    “As are we,” Damask said, motioning to Hill and the rest.
    “You’ve been traveling, Magister?”
    “A business trip, Chairman.”
    “Of course.” It was Tonith’s turn to show a weak smile. “But in that case perhaps you haven’t heard that the Senate is on the verge of creating additional free-trade zones in the Outer Rim Territories. Despite what I understand were considerable efforts on your part to the contrary, the shipping cartels face the danger of being broken, and even if not, will certainly have to deal with fierce competition from start-up companies. Both Core and Outer Rim worlds should benefit greatly from the arrangement, wouldn’t you agree?”
    Damask inclined his head in a bow of acknowledgment. “I hadn’t heard, Magister. Whom can we thank for swaying the liberals to adopt the amendment?”
    “Among others, the Jedi Order lobbied successfully.”
    “Then it must be for the best.”
    “One would think,” Tonith said slowly. “Save for the fact that, in exchange, the Trade Federation will now enjoy full voting privileges