Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

individual machines,or huddled around ovide and jubilee wheels and other gambling devices. The manager gestured Plagueis into an overstuffed chair and settled himself at a reflective desk. OneOne-FourDee stood quietly at Plagueis’s side.
    “You said something about a private matter, Magister Damask?”
    Plagueis interlocked his hands. “It’s my understanding that Colliders played host to a big winner a week ago.”
    The Sullustan gave his head a mournful shake. “Bad news travels fast, I see. But, yes, he nearly wiped us out. An uncanny run of luck.”
    “Are you certain it was luck?”
    The Sullustan considered the question. “I think I understand what you’re getting at, so allow me to explain. Species known to have telepathic abilities are barred from gambling at Colliders, as is the case at most casinos. In addition, we have always operated under the assumption that ninety-nine percent of beings strong in the Force belong to the Jedi Order, and that Jedi don’t gamble. As regards the remaining one percent—those who may have fallen between the cracks, as it were—well, most of them are probably off somewhere doing good deeds or locked away in monasteries contemplating the mysteries of the universe.”
    “And the remainder?”
    The Sullustan planted his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “On those rare occasions—and I emphasize rare—when we have suspected beings might be using the Force, we have demanded that they subject themselves to a blood test.”
    “Have you ever unmasked a Force-user?”
    “Not in the twenty years I’ve been the administrator of this facility. Of course, in this business you hear stories. For example, there’s one about a casino on Denon that employed a Forceful Iktotchi as a cooler—someone capable of breaking a gambler’s winning streak. But I suspect the story is apocryphal. Here at Colliders we rely on the standard methods of making certain that the odds are always in our favor. Regardless, from time to time, someone proves an exception to the rule.” He paused for a moment. “But I’ll admit that I haven’t seen a winning streak like this last one in years. It could take us months to recuperate.”
    “Did you demand a blood test?”
    “As a matter of fact we did, Magister Damask. But our resident analyst said that the winner’s blood didn’t contain … well, whatever it would have contained if the player was a Force-user. I confess to having a poor understanding of the chemistry involved.”
    “I myself wish I understood more,” Plagueis said. “Would you happen to have an image of the winner?”
    The manager frowned. “I don’t want to pry, but may I ask why this is of personal interest?”
    Plagueis sniffed. “It’s a tax matter.”
    The Sullustan cheered up. “Then by all means.” His small fingers flew across the desk input pad, and in seconds the image of a Weequay appeared on a wall screen.
    Plagueis was both disappointed and mystified. Data aboard Venamis’s ship had identified the potential candidate as a Quarren. The being from Mon Calamari had been using the Force to break the banks of casinos on a dozen worlds, from Coruscant to Taris, from Nar Shaddaa to Carratos. Apparently the Weequay who had won big at Colliders had simply been lucky. Plagueis was about to say as much to 11-4D when an intercom chimed and the manager inserted a transceiver into his large ear.
    “Not again!” he said. “All right, send a security team to watch him.”
    Plagueis waited for an explanation.
    “Another winning streak,” the Sullustan said. “A Kubaz this time!”
    Plagueis stood up. “I wish to accompany the security team to the floor. I won’t interfere. I’m simply curious about your methods for detecting cheaters.”
    “Of course,” the manager said, distracted. “Maybe you’ll spot something we’ve missed.”
    Plagueis reached the turbolift simultaneously with the arrival of two Bothans dressed in business suits and remained with them as they weaved their way through the ground-floor gaming area to one of the casino’s Collider tables. Players drawn to the action were clustered three-deep around the table, making it impossible to catch so much as a glimpse of the lucky Kubaz until Plagueis and the Bothans reached the croupier’s pit. Pressed in among females of various species who were attempting without success to get his attention, the dark-skinned, long-snoutedmale insectivore was seated across from the croupier, behind