Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

the gaping entrances of the umbrella-shaped Senate Building: Senators and their top aides; commissioners of the investment sector and securities exchange; members of the Trade Federation delegation and the board of the InterGalactic Banking Clan.
    Elsewhere on the broad avenue—at key intersections, taxi stops, and mag-lev exits—stood groups of Jedi, a few with the hilts of their lightsabers conspicuously visible. For Palpatine the sight of so many of them in one place was at once exhilarating and sobering. Though thoroughly cloaked in the everyday, he could feel their collective pride trickle into him through the Force. Only the baseness of Coruscant’s populace, the almost sheer absence of anything natural, kept the world from being as strong in the light as Korriban was in the dark. While he accepted that he and Plagueis were more than equal to the most powerful of the Jedi Order, he understood that they were no match for their combined strength—the Sith imperative notwithstanding. The Jedi would fall only with the full collaboration of the dark side; that was, only when the dark side of the Force was ready and willing to conspire in their downfall.
    His musings were interrupted by a sudden gust of wind, whipped up by a luxurious landspeeder that was alighting in the center of theavenue. Preceded by a vanguard of ceremonial guards wearing floor-length blue robes, Supreme Chancellor Darus emerged, waving to the crowd and for the hovercams that rushed in to immortalize his every expression. Palpatine studied him as the guards began to maneuver him through the throng, a train of handpicked journalists following dutifully in his wake: the easy way he carried himself; the way he made a point to stop and greet some while ignoring others; the way he laughed on cue …
    He recalled the two coronations he and his father had attended in Theed, and could remember as if yesterday the envy that had wafted from Cosinga like sour sweat. How cravenly his inept father had desired to wield such power! And would that Cosinga could see his son now, standing so close to the center, surveying the Senate as Cosinga might have the Palpatine lands in the Lake Country, thinking: Everything my gaze falls on will be mine: these buildings, these monads, these statues I will have slagged, this airspace whose use I will restrict to the powerful, that penthouse in 500 Republica, this Senate …
    Again his musings were interrupted, this time by the Gran Protectorate Senator Pax Teem, who was waddling briskly toward him, followed closely by the Senators from Lianna, Eriadu, and Sullust.
    “Are you ready to make history, Senator?” Teem said, his eyestalks quivering in excitement.
    “Rather than be a casualty of it,” Palpatine told him.
    The Gran grunted in amusement. “Well said, young sir. Needless to say, many are counting on you.”
    “Better many than all, because we cannot please everyone.”
    Teem grew serious. “Perhaps not. But we can strike a blow for utilitarianism. The greatest good for the greatest number.”
    Palpatine smiled in the way he had seen Darus smile. “And strike a blow we shall, Senator.”
    “Good, good,” Teem chortled. “Then we’ll see you inside where the galaxy’s business is done.”
    Pestage snorted a laugh as Teem was moving away. “The greatest good for the greatest Gran.”
    It was true. Teem harbored no ill will toward the Trade Federation. He merely wanted to see Naboo blunder, Hego Damask cut down to size, and Malastare returned to its quondam grandeur.
    The contingent of Senators had scarcely left when Palpatine heard his name called; turning, he saw Ronhar Kim in the company of two older human Jedi. Quietly he pulled his powers deeper into himself and adopted a mask of cordiality.
    “Jedi Ronhar,” he said, inclining his head in greeting.
    The black-haired Jedi returned the nod. “Senator Palpatine, may I introduce Masters Dooku and Sifo-Dyas.”
    Palpatine was familiar with the former, but only by reputation. “A great honor, Masters.”
    Dooku appraised him openly, then arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me for staring, Senator, but Ronhar’s descriptions of you led me to expect someone older.”
    “I disguise myself well, Master Dooku. My age, that is.”
    “Either way,” Sifo-Dyas remarked, “a talent required by your position.”
    “An ignoble truth, Master Sifo-Dyas. But we strive to remain faithful to our conscience.”
    Dooku smiled with purpose. “Hold tight to that,