II. Darth Maul and Darth Sidious


I. First Impression

His eyes are wide, and a brown-bronze that catches in the sun. His skin is vermillion swathed in a brown robe and belt; his crown of horns will emerge and shed their velvet in a handful of years. Darth Sidious knows that this region of Iridonia upholds the old ways, and so the kidnapping of a child results in a personal vendetta. But Sidious has groomed and watched this one, and so the father, almost but not quite bearing the perfect set of characteristics, will hunt him with hay-fork and zhaboka, but Sidious will be long gone.


II. Conflict

They stand on the shores of one of Coruscant's tide pools of sentient life. The wake from speeders' repulsorlifts wash imperceptivity against the buildings that served as the shore. Beings blind as cavefish, without the Force, pilot the speeders or throng in schools along the many layers of sidewalks. Beyond them, the Jedi Temple with its towers; a fungus sprouting on the hot bent of the Force nexus.

Darth Maul yearns to stir the waters and see what silver sides flash.

Only a litany will keep him in place now—words that replaces shivers, words that are movements themselves—patiencepatiencepatience—

"You feel them, don't you, my apprentice…" Sidious' voice trails off, treading a narrow creaking line.

Maul's words are tightly reined in but bucking. "We can take the Jedi. We can control this tawdry world and begin the Sith epoch…"

"Now is not the time."

"Tell me why." One hand curls. Maul twitches from wrist to elbow, like the recoil of a punch.

Sidious glances into the apprentice's eyes and away, settling a haughty stare over the city. "All the pieces are not in place. Events which you do not understand must yet occur."

But what is there to understand? The Temple's lights are there, a speeder ride away, and they are Sith, strong of arm and thought—

"No," Sidious draws the word out into a croon. "You will bide until I am ready."

Maul takes one step—no, lifts one heel to step. And light flares before his eyes, blue with lightning-white at the edges . Sidious holds lightning beneath Maul's chin, sparks dripping in molten gouts onto his collar. Sidious has hurt him before, and so he knows that he has done wrong (despite the wantwantwant beating inside him, that Sidious instilled in him). He stills, settles down.

"I allow you what freedom is appropriate. I choose your tasks carefully, to undermine, and weaken, the galaxy's structure, instead of throwing yourself against their strengths and being dashed."

Maul's mind flicks to fights, to metaphors he understands.

Sidious says, "We will slowly bleed them white."

Most securely lodged in Maul's thoughts—cultivated, synapse-locked—is the overwhelming desire to obey Sidious' orders. To be shown the way to go. He thinks, this waiting—this slow killing—is not my way, but he says nothing.


III. Their Finest Hour

One cannot, Sidious thought, rule by fear alone. But fearful situations inspire strong loyalty in a leader who either defies that fear or embraces it. Facing fear, using it against others, gives one the confidence necessary to face it again.

He had just shut off the holo-comm to Naboo—the Neimoidians had taken the castle and Maul was in place. He would distract the Jedi, and be distracted—Sidious wanted to appear a fool for employing an apprentice who would engage with the Jedi instead of bypassing them to reach the queen when she was closest, but Sidious was no fool. The Jedi would realize now that they were fighting on two fronts, the devilish Sith and the greedy Trade Federation, and that knowledge would tear them apart more surely than Maul's hands ever could.

For Maul, there would be no finest hour; only one more order than was so ingrained he didn't know he was following it. He was out there, the weapon, and Sidious, ensconced on Coruscant, the commander—and this was the way Sidious had always intended it to be, with this apprentice.


IV. Each Other's Creation

In the labyrinthine reactor network that provides Theed with power, Darth Maul breathes in the hot electric scent of splitting atoms, and enters again into the fray.

And beside another abyss, looking down at another battle as Darth Vader presses his metal bulk foreword and Luke Skywalker tries to stop him with words, Emperor Palpatine wonders whether Vader has always been too human. Palpatine should have worked harder to kill the children when they were young and close—now they are holes in Vader's armor. Maul had no such compunctions, no such pity, no such intelligence.

And in that way, he had given Palpatine too low—or too high—expectations.
Palpatine discards the transient thoughts of the past and refocuses on the present.