Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

Yinchorri had been limited to holoprojector; now he leaned forward in keen interest as the spokes-member introduced himself in gruff Basic as Qayhuk—secretary of the Council of Elders—and launched immediately into a diatribe denouncing the Senate for refusing to admit Yinchorr to the Republic. With bellicose encouragement from his comrades, Qayhuk went on to say with fist-pounding emphasis that although their homeworld had been charted hundred of years earlier by the Republic, Yinchorr remained an underprivileged, backrocket planet deserving of far better treatment.
    “Or someone will pay in blood for the ongoing injustice,” the secretary warned.
    Larsh Hill waited until he was certain that Qayhuk was finished to remark under his breath, “I’m not sure even the Senate is ready for them.”
    Holding Qayhuk’s baleful gaze and motioning with his hand, Damask said, “You have no interest in seeing Yinchorr seated in the Senate.”
    Qayhuk took umbrage. “Why else would we have journeyed all this way?”
    “You have no interest in seeing Yinchorr seated in the Senate,” Plagueis repeated.
    Qayhuk glanced at his green-skinned brethren, then looked at Hill. “Is Magister Damask deaf or in ill health?”
    Hill turned to Damask in concern but said nothing.
    Damask concealed his astonishment. As rumored, the Yinchorri were apparently resistant to Force suggestion! But how was it possible that midi-chlorians in a being of relatively low intelligence could erect an impenetrable wall against the influence of a Sith? Was this some sort of survival mechanism—the midi-chlorians’ way of protecting the consciousness of their vessels by refusing to be manipulated? He would need to possess one of these beings to learn the secret.
    “We might be willing to help you lobby for representation in the Senate,” he said at last, “but the process could require standard years or even decades, and I’m not convinced you have the patience for it.”
    Qayhuk’s wide nostrils flared. “What’s a decade when we have been patient for a century? Are we not sentients? Or are we required to embrace the conditions along with accepting them?”
    Damask shook his head. “No one is asking you to applaud the arrangement.”
    Qayhuk’s expression softened somewhat. “Then we have an accord?”
    “We will draw up a contract,” Damask said. “In the meantime, I want some assurance that I can call on you for a personal favor should the need arise.”
    Qayhuk stared at him. “A personal favor? Of what sort?”
    Damask showed the palms of his hands. “Of whatever sort I require, Secretary.”
    The Yinchorri and his brethren traded uncertain glances, but Qayhuk ultimately nodded in agreement. “Done, Magister.”
    “A favor?” Hill asked as the Yinchorri were being seen out.
    “Nothing more than a test,” Damask told him.
    Next to be admitted for audience were two Gran; the larger of the pair, a Republic Senator named Pax Teem, represented the Gran Protectorate. Teem had scarcely taken a seat when he said, “Promise me, Magister Damask, that you haven’t entered into a deal with Gardulla.”
    “Our dealings with the Hutts,” Hill said, “are no less confidential than our dealings with you, Senator Teem.”
    The Gran’s trio of stalked eyes twitched in anger. “Rumors abound of Gardulla’s plans to refurbish the Podrace course on Tatooine and enter into direct competition with Malastare.”
    Damask regarded him blankly. “Surely you haven’t come all this way to hear me address rumors.”
    Teem worked his big jaw. “Promises were made, Magister.”
    “And fulfilled,” Damask said; then, in a calmer voice, he added, “As a means of offsetting losses in revenue derived from Podracing, the cost of Malastare’s fuel exports could be raised.”
    The Gran ruminated. “That sounds more like a possibility than a guarantee.”
    Damask shrugged. “We will take it up with the steerage committee. But for now, consider it a starting point for discussion.” Reclining in the chair, he appraised Teem before saying, “What else is troubling you, Senator?”
    “The favoritism you show to the Trade Federation.”
    “We merely helped them secure full representation in the Senate,” Hill answered.
    Teem grew strident. “The directorate was doing perfectly well for itself without full representation. And in exchange for what—surrendering some of the shipping monopoly they enjoyed in the Outer Rim?”
    “What’s fair is