Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

themselves in the wastes.
    In a starship similar in design to the one that had delivered Tenebrous and Plagueis to Bal’demnic—a Rugess Nome craft—Plagueis and 11-4D traveled to the Mid Rim world of Bedlam, near the argent pulsar of thesame name. A leak point in realspace and a playground for purported transdimensional beings, the luminous cosmic phenomenon struck Plagueis as the perfect setting for the sanatorium to which the last of Venamis’s potential apprentices—a Nautolan—had been confined for the past five years.
    Uniformed Gamorrean guards met them at the towering front doors of the Bedlam Institution for the Criminally Demented and showed them to the office of the superintendent, where they were welcomed by an Ithorian, who listened closely but in obvious dismay to the purpose of Plagueis’s surprise visit.
    “Naat Lare has been named as a beneficiary in a will?”
    Plagueis nodded. “A small inheritance. As chief executor I have been searching for him for some time.”
    The Ithorian’s twin-lobed head swung back and forth and his long, bulbous-tipped fingers tapped a tattoo on the desktop. “I’m sorry for having to report that he is no longer with us.”
    “Dead?”
    “Quite possibly. But what I meant to say is that he has disappeared.”
    “When?”
    “Two months ago.”
    “Why was he originally confined to Bedlam?” Plagueis asked.
    “He was remanded by authorities on Glee Anselm, but ultimately sentenced to serve out his time here, where he could be looked after.”
    “What was his crime?”
    “Crimes, is more apt. He has a long history of sadomasochistic practices—most often performed on small animals—pyromania, petty crime, and intoxicant use. Typically we see this in beings who have been abused or had an unstable upbringing, but Naat Lare had a loving family and is very intelligent, despite having been expelled from countless schools.”
    Plagueis considered his next question carefully. “Is he dangerous?”
    The Ithorian drummed his spatulate fingers again before responding. “At the risk of violating patient confidentiality, I would say potentially dangerous, as he has certain … let us say, talents , that transcend the ordinary.”
    “Did those talents figure into his escape?”
    “Perhaps. Though we think he may have had help.”
    “From whom?”
    “A Bith physician who took an interest in his case.”
    Plagueis leaned back in his chair. Venamis ? “Have you contacted this physician?”
    “We tried, but the information he furnished regarding his practice and place of residence was fraudulent.”
    “So he may not have been a physician.”
    The Ithorian’s head bobbed on his curving neck. “Sadly. The Bith may have been an accomplice, of sorts.”
    “Do you have any idea where Naat Lare may have disappeared to?”
    “Assuming he left Bedlam on his own, the possibilities are limited, given the dearth of starships that serve us. His first stop would have to have been either Felucia, Caluula, or Abraxin. We notified the authorities on those worlds. Unfortunately, we lack the budget to undertake an extensive search.”
    Plagueis cast 11-4D a meaningful glance and rose from the chair. “Your cooperation is greatly appreciated, Superintendent.”
    “We’re confident that the Jedi will locate him, in any case,” the Ithorian added as Plagueis and the droid were about to exit the office.
    Plagueis swung back around. “The Jedi?”
    “Because of Naat Lare’s peculiar gifts, we felt obliged to contact the Order as soon as he was discovered to be missing. They graciously consented to assist us in the search.” The Ithorian paused. “I could contact you if I learn something …”
    Plagueis smiled. “I’ll leave my contact information with your assistant.”
    He and 11-4D returned to the ship in silence. While the boarding ramp was lowering, Plagueis said, “Beings like Naat Lare don’t remain hidden for long. Search the HoloNet and other sources for news of recent events on the three worlds the superintendent named, and apprise me of any accounts that capture your interest.”
    The ship had scarcely left Bedlam’s atmosphere when 11-4D reported to the cockpit.
    “A morsel from Abraxin, Magister,” the droid began. “Buried among stories of intriguing or bizarre occurrences. Reports of the recent killings of dozens of marsh haunts in the swamps surrounding a Barabel settlement on the southern continent.”
    Large, nonsentient bipedal creatures, marsh