Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

higher in pitch.
    “Don’t! Don’t!”
    The thrum of an angered lightsaber, a howl of pain, and something heavy struck the water.
    “Is he alive? Is he alive?”
    Someone moaned.
    “Wait …”
    Waves broke on the rooted shore close to where Plagueis had concealed himself.
    “Master?”
    “It’s done. He’s dead.”

9: UNTAPPED RESERVES
    For more than fifty years Damask Holdings had occupied one of Harnaidan’s most magnificent superspires. If not as soaring or massive as those belonging to the InterGalactic Banking Clan and its numerous subsidiaries, the building had the advantage of being constructed close to the largest of the city’s naturally heated lakes, which had been incorporated into the property as an exclusive spa. The company’s boardroom overlooked the lake and surrounding hot springs from an architectural setback on the two-hundredth floor, where Hego Damask, Larsh Hill, and the chief officers and executives of Damask Holdings convened for twice-weekly meetings. That day a one-quarter-life-sized holopresence stood at the center of the room’s enormous circular holotable, addressing the gathered Muuns in Basic from the far-removed world of Naboo.
    A human of medium height, the speaker had dark brown hair combed straight back from a sloping forehead, a thick and lengthy beard and mustache, and bright blue eyes set in a symmetrical if unremarkable face. He was attired in layers of richly colored clothing, which included a vest embroidered with Futhork calligraphy and a brocade overcloak that fell to his knees, revealing tall, shiny, low-heeled leather boots. His name was Ars Veruna, and although he didn’t hold a position in Naboo’s monarchical government, he was speaking for the current pretender to the throne, Bon Tapalo, and was likely to be appointed governor of the city of Theed in the event of Tapalo’s election.
    “Our campaign has been stalled by recent allegations from the leaders of some of the royal houses,” Veruna was telling the gathered Muuns. “Something has to be done to recapture momentum—and quickly. Counterallegations made public by an unknown benefactor went a long way toward undoing the initial damage of the nobles’ media releases, but a new wariness has gripped the electorate, strengthening the position of our provincial opponents.”
    “Audio cancellation,” one of the Muuns said toward the holosystem’s pickups. Secure in the knowledge that conversation around the table had been muted, he went on. “Are all the Naboo as hirsute and elaborately costumed as this Veruna?”
    Larsh Hill replied. “They are traditionalists—tonsorially as well as politically. The style of dress and facial adornments pay homage to the regalia of Queen Elsinore den Tasia of Grizmallt, who dispatched an expeditionary fleet of humans to the planet some four thousand years ago, and to whom some Naboo claim to be able to trace an unbroken ancestry.”
    “They are not, after all, as furry as Wookiees,” said another.
    Hill grunted affirmatively. “In addition to humans, Naboo supports a hairless amphibious species known as the Gungans. Perhaps indigenous, perhaps not, but in no position to represent the planet in galactic dealings, in either case.”
    Seated with his back to the scenic view beyond the window wall, Plagueis studied the holoimage of Veruna. Generally he loathed politicians for their pretentions and ill-informed belief that wealth and influence conferred true power. But politicians were a necessary evil, and, if nothing else, Veruna burned with greed and ambition, which meant that he could be manipulated if necessary.
    The missions to Lianna, Saleucami, and Abraxin were still fresh in his thoughts. On a philosophical level he understood why the generations of Sith Lords that had preceded him had trained apprentices, to whom they had bequeathed their knowledge of the dark side of the Force in anticipation of an eventual challenge for superiority. But with the Grand Plan culminating, it made no sense to challenge or kill beings of equal power unless they posed a threat to Plagueis’s personal destiny. The Sith line would continue through him or not at all. Thus the needfor a partner rather than an underling; a cohort to help put into play the final stages of the imperative. It had long been his belief that the dark side would provide that one when the time was right.
    Plagueis hadn’t anticipated having to turn his attention quite so suddenly to Naboo, but with