by James Luceno
“I do, as well, Your Majesty,” Palpatine said, bowing his head in a gesture of respect.
The figure sat in a round-backed throne, with a towering arch-topped window at her back, and, to either side, massive columns of native stone. Her low voice was as composed as her posture; the words emerged from her painted lips with scant inflection. She had a slight figure and a lovely, feminine face. She was remarkably solemn for one so young. It was clear that she took her responsibilities with the utmost seriousness.
Her birth name was Padmé Naberrie. But she would henceforth be known as Queen Amidala, the newly elected ruler of Naboo.
Palpatine was receiving the communication in his apartment, high in the craglike tower that was 500 Republica, in one of Coruscant’s oldest and most prestigious precincts. The walls and floor were as red as Amidala’s throne, with objects of art adorning every niche and corner.
He could imagine his own ghostly likeness hovering above the composite holoprojector in the floor of the Advisory Council chambers in Naboo’s Theed Palace.
“Senator, I wanted to advise you about something, which has only now been revealed to me. King Veruna is dead.”
“Dead, Your Majesty?” Palpatine frowned in apparent disquiet. “Of course, I was aware that he had gone into hiding following his abdication. But I understood that he was in good health.”
“He was in good health, Senator,” Amidala said in a low monotone. “His death has been ruled ‘accidental,’ but much mystery surrounds it.”
Even at fourteen years of age, she was not the youngest monarch ever elected to the throne, but she was certainly one of the most conventional, in dress and bearing.
She was sheathed head to foot in a wide-shouldered red gown, whose ample cuffs were trimmed with potolli fur. The gown’s narrow bib was embroidered in priceless thread. Painted white, her face sat in the notch of a deep collar that not only bracketed her fine features, but also became part of an elaborate jeweled headpiece that flared behind her head. Her thumbnails were accented with white polish, and each cheekbone with a red, stylized beauty mark. A traditional “scar of remembrance” bisected her lower lip, which, unlike its red mate, was also painted white. Five handmaidens stood behind her, dressed in hooded burgundy gowns.
“I wish you to meet our new chief of security, Senator,” Amidala said, gesturing to someone out of view. “Captain Panaka.”
A clean-shaven man with light-brown skin moved into the holofield. Humorless-looking, he was dressed in a leather jerkin and matching command cap. Panaka may have been recently appointed, but he was not new to the court, since Panaka had served for a time under his predecessor, Captain Magneta.
“Because King Veruna died under suspicious circumstances,” Amidala said, “Captain Panaka feels that additional security is required for all of us, including you, Senator.”
Palpatine looked surprised, even entertained by the notion. “I hardly think that’s necessary on Coruscant, Your Majesty. The only danger here comes from having to fraternize with other senators, and somehow remain immune to the greed that plagues the Galactic Senate.”
The queen returned to the holofield. “What about the recent troubles between the Trade Federation and the Nebula Front terrorists, Senator?”
Palpatine shook his head in disapproval. “That sorry incident only pointed out how ineffectual the Republic has become at mediating such conflicts. Too many in the Senate place their own needs above the needs of the Republic.”
“What will become of Chancellor Valorum’s proposal to tax the free trade zones?”
“I feel certain that the Supreme Chancellor will pursue the matter.”
“How will you vote, Senator, should the matter reach a vote?”
“How would you have me vote, Your Majesty?”
Amidala thought before replying. “My responsibility is to the people of Naboo. I would very much like to establish good relations with Chancellor Valorum, but Naboo can scarcely afford to become embroiled in a dispute that pits the Republic against the Trade Federation. I will abide by your decision on the matter, Senator.”
Palpatine inclined his head. “Then I will weigh the matter carefully, and vote according to what is ultimately best for Naboo and the Republic.”
Valorum stood at the tall windows, gazing out on the cityscape.
“The last time we met here, it was to discuss the Trade Federation’s request for protection from terrorists,” he said, “and in the months since, the situation has only intensified. When I reflect on the sequence of events that have brought us to this dark place, I find myself at a loss. If someone had tried to tell me months ago that we were headed here, I wouldn’t have heeded the warning, because I wouldn’t have considered it possible.”
Senator Palpatine said nothing. He waited for Valorum to turn from the view.
“Out of respect for what occurred at the summit, I have deferred bringing the motion for taxation before the senate. But I am under pressure to resolve the matter once and for all—from those who support it, as well as those who oppose it.”
Valorum pivoted to face Palpatine. “You, perhaps more than anyone, know the climate of the senate. Did the assassinations create sympathy for the Trade Federation, to the point where we won’t be able to gather sufficient support for taxation?”
“On the contrary,” Palpatine said. “What happened on Eriadu only reinforced everyone’s fears that we are entering violent times, and that the conflict between the Trade Federation and the Nebula Front could be a sign of greater tragedies to come.
“What’s more, with the profit-driven Neimoidians now helming the Trade Federation, tension is likely to increase in the outlying systems. Your plan to redirect revenue to the Outer Rim is praiseworthy, and is something that should be put into effect. Many worlds and struggling concerns stand to profit from such a move. Market competition will eventually temper the reach of the Trade Federation, without need for the Republic to intervene, beyond taxation.”
Valorum nodded. “And what of the Trade Federation’s request for additional defenses? Even with the Nebula Front eliminated as a threat, the Neimoidians will want permission to augment their army.”
“That’s true,” Palpatine said slowly. “As an accommodation, if nothing else, we should at least consider allowing the Trade Federation to take whatever steps are necessary to safeguard their vessels. The breakup of the Nebula Front does not preclude the possibility of further acts of terrorism, launched by whatever groups rise up next.”
Valorum regarded Palpatine. “Will we have Naboo’s vote?”
Palpatine sighed with purpose. “Unfortunately, Queen Amidala is not prepared to support taxation, as Naboo still relies on the Trade Federation for many essential imports. She is young and inexperienced in such matters, but eager to learn.” He fixed his gaze on Valorum. “However, I will continue to do all in my power to work behind the scenes. I feel certain that we will be able to rally the votes needed.”
Valorum smiled in gratitude. “For all the support you have shown me, my friend, I trust that you will take on faith that, should need ever arise, I would do all within my power to render aid to Naboo.”
“Thank you, Supreme Chancellor. As you say, I will take you at your word.”
The public corridors of the Galactic Senate overflowed with HoloNet correspondents, well-wishers, and the more civic-minded of Coruscant’s citizens.
Flanked by Senate Guards, a rejuvenated Valorum moved slowly through the principal corridor, trading dignified nods with senators and ignoring questions hurled by the media reporters.
“Supreme Chancellor, did you ever for a moment doubt that the taxation proposal would be ratified?” a Twi’lek correspondent asked.
Sei Taria answered for him.
“The issue has been controversial from the start. But everyone involved remained confident that the proposal would pass, once all parties had an opportunity to be heard.”
An attractive human female shouldered her way to the
front of the crowd. “Considering what happened at the trade summit, do you still feel that all parties were heard?”
Again Sei Taria intervened.
“While tragedy compelled us to abbreviate the summit, much was accomplished on Eriadu. Those who were denied an opportunity to speak were given ample time to voice their opinions here, when the discussions continued.”
“Discussions or debates, Supreme Chancellor?”
Valorum waved his hand in dismissal.
“Do you feel that taxation strikes a blow for the rights of the outlying systems?”
“The outlying systems will surely benefit,” Taria replied. “But all worlds stand to gain as a result of this historic action. Contrary to the claims of many a would-be political pundit, the passage of this bill demonstrates clearly that the senate has not grown too unwieldy or apathetic to act for the common good.”
Another human correspondent shoved his way forward. “Would you consider this to be the high point of your administration?”
Taria held up her hands. “Later today, the office of the Supreme Chancellor will issue a statement. Until that time, there will be no further questions.”
The correspondents grumbled, but ultimately fell silent and stepped aside, as Valorum’s contingent of advisers and guards steered him toward the turbolift that accessed his private chambers. Once there, he removed his outer cloak, sat heavily into his chair, and loosed a prolonged exhale.
“Thank you for running interference,” he told Taria when the two of them were alone in the office.
She smiled and took a seat opposite him. “We should issue a statement as quickly as possible. Do you want to compose something now?”
Valorum frowned, then got to his feet and walked to the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Taria activated the record function of her wrist comlink.
“For too long a time the senate has been bogged down by policies and procedures,” Valorum began after a moment. “But today we managed to sidestep that bureaucratic morass. We have succeeded in overcoming our inertia, by setting aside petty squabbles and self-interest, and by banding together to strike a blow for the Republic itself. In this, we have reaffirmed our mandate, and refound our way.
“While we are honored to have introduced this historic proposal, victory would not have been possible without the tireless efforts of several good and proper delegates. We shall refrain from going into the matter of how the vote was carried. But we do want to say that we owe much gratitude to delegates like—”
Valorum cut short his remarks when a tone issued from the office door. When Sei Taria opened the door, two Senate Guards conducted Alderaanian Senator Bail Antilles into the room. In his right hand, the chair of the Internal Activities Committee held a legal-looking piece of durasheet.
“Supreme Chancellor, I’m sorry to have to be the bearer of raw tidings on a day that should be devoted to celebration,” Antilles said, extending the durasheet to Valorum. “But this document constitutes official notification that you are hereby requested to appear before the Supreme Court to answer allegations of corruption and illegal enrichment.”
Valorum blinked in stupefaction. He couldn’t make sense of what he had just heard. This had to be a mistake, or a joke in very poor taste. His heart thudded against his breastbone, and he grew short of breath. He stared at the durasheet he had accepted, then glared at Antilles.
“I demand to know the meaning of this.”
Antilles compressed his lips. “Again, I apologize, Supreme Chancellor. But that is all I am permitted to say about the matter at this time.”
Valorum was surrounded not by Senate Guards but by lawyers when he finally appeared before the Supreme Court almost two weeks later. During that time his legal team had managed to discover that the basis for the allegations was an investment made in Valorum Shipping, on Eriadu.
Beyond that, Valorum was in the dark.
The Supreme Court convened in closed session in the Galactic Courts of Justice Building, an enormous edifice of pointed arches, tall decorative spires, and elaborate statuary, located in the so-called Plains of Coruscant, not far from the Jedi Temple.
Valorum and his lawyers were seated at a long table opposite the twelve robed figures who comprised the judiciary council. Bail Antilles and the members of the Internal Activities Committee sat perpendicular to the bench.
The chief justice spoke, addressing Valorum.
“Supreme Chancellor, we appreciate that you elected to appear before us, without being subpoenaed by writ.”
“We are given to understand that this is an informal inquest,” one of the lawyers said in Valorum’s stead.
“Your presumption is correct.”
The judge looked to Antilles, who stood and spoke from his place at the committee’s table.
“Your Honors, Supreme Chancellor Valorum,” he began. “Just two weeks ago the senate met in special session to vote on a motion introduced by Supreme Chancellor Valorum, calling for a tax to be levied on all shipping and other mercantile activities in what were formerly known as the free trade zones of the outlying systems.
“An amendment to the original proposal directed that a percentage of all revenues collected by the Republic would be redistributed among the outlying systems, for purposes of social welfare and technological advancement. Many business concerns located in those systems have already begun to reap the benefits of the amendment, in the form of venture capital bestowed by investors, here in the Core. One of those concerns is Valorum Shipping and Transport, of Eriadu, which has received an enormous sum, for a company that has shown only marginal profits over the past several standard years.”
Valorum’s lawyer interrupted.
“With all due respect, Senator Antilles, Supreme Chancellor Valorum was not made aware of the investment in Valorum Shipping until last week. Regardless, while it’s true that the company bears the Valorum name, and that the Supreme Chancellor is a member of the board of directors, he does not participate in company operations, or involve himself with each and every commonplace business transaction.
“More important, Your Honors, since when does it violate Republic law for a company to profit, based on merit alone? In the case of Valorum Shipping, it strikes me as good business sense for investors to be drawn to concerns owned by prominent public figures. It’s not as if the Supreme Chancellor actively solicited investments. Furthermore, the Supreme Chancellor, as required by law, has made full disclosure of all his holdings, and his record, with regard to earnings and taxes, is spotless.”
The twelve judges looked at Antilles, who was still frowning when the lawyer finished speaking.
“If I may be allowed to continue. The Internal Activities Committee does not take issue with any of the statements made by the Supreme Chancellor’s legal representative. In fact, when this matter was first brought to our attention, we proceeded under the assumption that no infringement of protocol had occurred. However …”
Antilles let the word dangle for a long moment before continuing.
“Subsequent investigation has shown that the contribution to Valorum Shipping did not originate with a consortium or venture capital group. Rather, the revenue was drawn from a blind account, and moved to Eriadu through a Coruscant bank of dubious reputation. I use the term moved advisedly, Your Honors, since the investment was tendered in the form of hard assets.”
Valorum’s lawyers regarded one another in puzzlement. “Of what sort?” the spokesman asked Antilles.
“Aurodium ingots.”
Blood drained from Valorum’s face, and a stir went through the room. Valorum and his lawyers conferred for a moment, before the spokesman replied.
“Your Honors, we acknowledge that the investment begins to sound, shall we say, less than forthright. Nevertheless, Senator Antilles has yet to demonstrate exactly how this matter relates to the Supreme Chancellor.”
Antilles’s expression made clear that he had been waiting for just this moment. He ga
zed at Valorum while he delivered his finishing stroke.
“What the Internal Activities Committee finds most interesting, and questionable, is that the value of the aurodium—and indeed the quantity—corresponds exactly to a cache of ingots reported missing by the Trade Federation, following an attack on one of their vessels, the Revenue, in the Dorvalla system, several months ago.”
Hushed conversations erupted throughout the room, as Antilles stepped out from behind the table and approached the bench.
“Your Honors, this is not an indictment. The committee merely wishes to be reassured that the Supreme Chancellor did not have a hidden agenda in supporting taxation, as part of a scheme to enrich his own holdings in the outlying systems. The committee also wishes to be reassured that the aurodium in question did, in fact, disappear from the Revenue, and was not simply transferred to Valorum Shipping, to seal a clandestine partnership existing between the Supreme Chancellor and the Trade Federation.”
Senator Palpatine was one of a hundred or more senators who had been invited to Orn Free Taa’s lavish penthouse for an evening of exceptional food and extravagant drink. What had been touted as an occasion, however, had all the undercurrents of a conclave; and where outsiders assumed that its purpose was to celebrate Valorum’s seeming victory in the Senate, it was instead intended to cheer his recent reversal of fortune.
On the largest of the penthouse’s many terraces, the blue-skinned Twi’lek host was holding forth for an audience of senators, who hung on his every word.
“Of course we knew about the alleged improprieties. But it was necessary to delay mention of the scandal to ensure that the tax proposal would be ratified, which wouldn’t have been the case had Valorum been weakened beforehand.”
Taa shook his head and fat lekku. “No, by waiting to reveal the allegations, and by supporting Valorum, we managed to turn what might have been perceived as an instance of ordinary corruption into what hints at a nefarious plot that threatens the stability of the very Republic.”