Chapter 304
The "Full Sarlacc" dive bar wasn't on Coruscant's glittering surface, but it wasn't at the very bottom either. Beyond its level lay even deeper strata where sunlight had never reached. The establishment was famous for cheap, filling food and strong drinks, so it was always packed. Regulars preferred the long counter-style tables, where a single weary waiter doubled as bartender at the far end. A small wall-mounted holoscreen droned on in the background with the polished voice of the Central Republic Information Bureau announcer.
"…The Republic's victories outnumber its defeats, but the Jedi are unable to halt the enemy's advance. The elusive General Grievous and his millions-strong droid army are always one step ahead. So far, the Jedi have failed to anticipate a single move — except in the 12th sector. The Belderone sector, located in the Outer Rim near the Phelleem and Auril sectors, lies along the Perlemian Trade Route and includes the Keyorin and Belderone systems as well as a prison asteroid. All fell to the combined forces of the 12th sector. Over thirty CIS warships were destroyed. Fierce battles rage across the Outer Rim. The theater of war continues to expand: the Separatists threaten more and more worlds…"
"Buck, it seems like your receiver is acting up again — there's no picture."
"Yeah. The settings are out of whack again…" One of the waitresses kicked the repair droid standing in the corner. "R-Four, fix this damn screen already."
"Coming, ma'am… Why do you keep kicking me?" the droid muttered inaudibly under its breath, floating up and opening the side panel of the holoscreen. It pulled out a universal connector that disappeared inside the device. After a couple of seconds the screen flickered, but the image still refused to appear. However, the announcer's voice suddenly changed.
"…A military waste processing plant has been launched on Alland. Our correspondent Yraktos Gindin has the floor…"
"Greetings, GHT listeners! The Republic has launched another droid processing facility, this time on Alland. A huge influx of captured and damaged droids is being sent to Planet Nine's industrial district, where their memories are completely erased and their hulls are smelted into raw material for the Republic's war machine. As you know, reports of such factories opening are becoming more and more frequent. I'd like to point out that not everyone is happy about this…"
"What do you mean, Yraktos?"
"The Union of Machine Rights Activists has criticized such actions. The day before yesterday, Vilam Olgrin, leader of the radical 'Olgrin Movement for Artificial Intelligence Rights,' led a team of thirty people to blockade the Alland spaceport on a transport ship to prevent a freighter from delivering military spoils. A Republic Navy patrol ship detained the troublemakers. According to an official spokesman for the investigative authorities, the 'Olgrin Movement' has no ties to the Confederacy of Independent Systems…"
"Buck, is your droid going to fix the screen?"
The owner of the eatery appeared from the depths of the kitchen, waving a ladle. "Damn trash can! I'll give you five minutes, and if you don't fix that Hutt-forsaken screen, you're going to the dump!"
"Yes, yes…" R-Four muttered resignedly. He heard this threat five times a day, so he continued to rummage through the screen's innards at his own pace.
Finally, the image appeared — but the channel had changed again. On the screen now was a Neimoidian speaking in measured, accusatory tones.
"Violating its own prohibitions on Andoans carrying weapons, the Republic is arming Aqualish loyalists, urging them to rebel against the Ando population, which insisted on the planet's secession from the Republic. The outlying Andoan Free Colonies, represented in the Senate by Gorothin Vager, remain part of the Republic, while Ando joined the CIS at the outset of the war. The natives of Ando, represented by Senator Po Nudo, also immediately violated the treaty and are finally able to defend themselves with weapons provided by the Separatists. Mercenary vessels leased by Andoan loyalists, in direct violation of the Rakwishian Peace Treaty, are beginning to greatly disturb the local Ando population. Naturally, Senator Vager has not commented on the accusations of Treaty violations, nor have Republic media outlets or the Andoan Colonies media agencies."
"Well, you tin can, you've had enough. R-Four, why the hell did you turn on the SNS's Shadow Broadcast?! Are you trying to frame me for something?" Buck Ferret roared, waving the ladle he'd confiscated from the cook.
The repair droid muttered, "I'll fix it now…"
---
Palpatine made sure the heavy doors to his private quarters closed securely behind him, then took a few steps and sank into his chair with visible relief. Fatigue had finally caught up with him.
A few minutes ago, an extraordinary Senate session dedicated to discussing the new treaty with the Hutts had finally concluded. It had lasted nearly twelve hours — and this despite the fact that the treaty was primarily military in nature and technically fell outside normal Senate jurisdiction. Decisions of this magnitude were covered by the separate clause "On Emergency Strategic Decisions," which allowed the Jedi, when the situation demanded it, to act without additional Senate approval, requiring only the Chancellor's sign-off. Of course, open debate in the Senate could have dragged on for weeks, if not months. During that time the initiative could be lost and the treaty rendered meaningless.
Even so, the senators had chattered animatedly, dissecting every clause — though their words were ultimately futile. They could no longer influence the outcome. The only thing that pleased Palpatine was that the clause on purchasing food from the Hutts — for humanitarian purposes and at pre-war prices — had managed to silence the Loyalist faction led by Amidala and Organa. They had barely finished reading the main points before leaving the chamber. No doubt they were already planning where to send the aid first and how to present it most profitably for themselves and the Loyalist Committee.
The treaty… Palpatine allowed himself a quiet chuckle. This young Jedi Knight had managed to surprise everyone again — including him. Sheev had not ruled out the possibility that Marek might succeed in concluding the treaty, but its terms were surprisingly… favorable. For both the Republic and the Hutts.
"The pawn survived this move," he murmured to himself. "Now it's up to the players whether it remains a pawn or is promoted. It's just a shame we don't have reliable informants inside Jabba's palace. His servants are remarkably… loyal. It would be interesting to hear the exact details of those negotiations."
One of the inner doors opened quietly. Sly Moore, his Umbaran aide, slipped inside. She walked slowly around the seated Chancellor and placed her hands on his shoulders. Palpatine involuntarily relaxed under her touch. Silence settled between them for several long minutes.
"Why don't you just ask?" her melodic voice finally broke the quiet.
"Ask?" Palpatine tilted his head back, looking up at her thoughtfully.
"Why not? What is he like? What does he want? What are his goals and what does he plan to do?"
"Do you think he will answer?"
"It depends on who is asking," the Umbaran woman smiled and headed toward the exit.
"Hmm… On the one hand, I could continue tormenting myself with guesses about this entertaining puzzle and risk missing something truly important. Or I could take the risk and solve the problem, after which I can move on to other matters. However, with her participation, the risk is minimal…"
"You want to talk to him?" Palpatine's question stopped her a step from the door. "Very well… I'll arrange a meeting for you."
Sly Moore bowed her head slightly and left the room.
Palpatine nodded with satisfaction. Ten minutes alone in the same room and the Umbaran would know the answers to all her questions. And if she could establish tactile contact… Her abilities still amazed even him — but only a very limited number of beings in the galaxy knew of them. No more than five. The rest considered her merely a secretary, an assistant, and, as some detractors whispered, a lover. Sometimes outsiders were at a loss to determine her exact race, as she preferred a slightly different style of clothing than other Umbarans. Which was understandable: Umbaran society was rigidly caste-based, and only members of the highest castes were permitted to leave their homeworld.
In his entire life, Palpatine had met only four Umbarans: three senators who had come and gone over fifteen years, and… Sly Moore, who did not fit the norms of her race at all. Naturally, she intrigued him. He still remembered their first conversation clearly…
"Good evening, Ms. Sly. I'm glad you accepted my invitation."
"Greetings, Senator Sheev Palpatine. Or… would you prefer that I call you Darth Sidious?"
That moment had required every ounce of his self-control. Yes, Sly Moore was an unusual woman, capable of shocking even him. Palpatine sometimes felt as if she did not truly consider herself part of the Umbaran people, even though she had been born on Umbara. There was something… different about her.
"All that remains is to wait until Vikt arrives on Coruscant. And then… it wouldn't be surprising if the Chancellor wished to speak personally with this Jedi."
Palpatine grinned and rose from his chair. It was time to address another problem.
He changed into a simple black robe, less conspicuous than his usual attire, and activated a hidden wall panel. A secret door slid open, revealing a small turbolift leading to the lower levels of the Senate complex. As he descended, he pulled the hood low, concealing most of his face.
It was time to deal with Finis Valorum. This… madman, egged on by the Alderaanian Organa and that red-haired bitch Mon Mothma, with Amidala's full connivance, was preparing to deliver an indictment against him in the Senate. Not that Palpatine was truly worried — he could devise several plans on the spot to turn the situation to his advantage — but such impudence could not go unpunished. Finis Valorum had become a loose end, and loose ends were improper to leave on the board…
An hour later, Palpatine was already in one of his secure refuges. He walked into the communications room and activated the terminal, waiting patiently for a response. A few minutes later, a hologram of a Duros in a wide-brimmed hat appeared.
"Our respects, Mysterious Lord. Do you require my services again?"
"Cad Bane," Palpatine allowed himself a small smile. "You've proven yourself a reliable… specialist in your field. After Jango Fett's death, you took your place as the finest bounty hunter in the galaxy…"
"I prefer the sound of credit chits to words — it pleases my ears more. What needs to be done?"
"I have an order for you. Finis Valorum."
"Isn't this the former Chancellor of the Republic?"
"He is the one, my friend. He is the one."
"Hm. I've never killed a Chancellor — especially a former one." The Duros scratched his chin. "What's the price?"
"Fifty thousand. Deadline: three days."
"Do you know where he is?"
"I believe he is still on Coruscant."
"Then we'll be done in two days."
"Wonderful," Palpatine drawled.
"I await your full credits, Mysterious Lord." Cad Bane touched the brim of his hat again and the hologram vanished.
"One more thing done," Palpatine murmured. "All that remains is to wait. However… we can also work out another directive on strengthening security measures. And there will be a suitable pretext. It is decided."
He left the room and headed toward the airspeeder waiting for him in the private hangar.
The game continued.
And the board was about to become much bloodier.