CREAM RISES
Chapter 6 – Friends And Neighbours
Brilliant bronze sunshine spilled into the bowl of Stalgasin's coliseum. It was still early, just after high noon, yet the sand of the arena floor had already been leveled and raked for the venations scheduled for the day to come. Four little lines of Geonosian footprints were all that marred the smooth orange expanse of the playing field. They ended near the very center of the arena floor, where Sun Fac, Tau Lee and Brossar the Patriot stood together with their new Archduke.
Brossar was pointing out a sector of the towering walls of rock encircling them, a portion high up behind the stands that was still in its natural state.
"That part there could be developed easily enough. Work it left and run it right above that sector under the northeast tower. That'd give you seating for another two and a half, maybe three thousand."
Poggle examined the rock face in question carefully. "What about working it the other way as well? Putting in a whole new level altogether?"
"Ah." Brossar's eyes brightened. "That'd be a fair undertaking. Several months' worth, I should think."
"But doable."
"Absolutely." He swung his burly head about, imagining the construction required. "We could do it one section at a time. That wouldn't cause too much disruption at all."
"Finished capacity?"
The new Arena Master calculated rapidly. "An added twelve thousand. Possibly fourteen," Brossar said.
Poggle nodded. He'd seen the light ignite in the Patriot's eyes and knew Brossar welcomed his suggestion, was already excited by the scope of the expansion. "Think about it and I'll have the architects sent over tomorrow," he said to him. "Don't worry about expenses. I'll see to it that whatever you need is available. Let Fac know when you have some plans drawn up for me to look at."
"I will, Archduke. Thank you, Archduke, sir!"
Poggle put off any further expressions of gratitude with a grave tilt of his head. In truth, he was just as excited as Brossar, but of course one had to maintain one's decorum in public. He looked next at Tau Lee.
"It wouldn't do to expand our arena without also enhancing our glorious games, would it?" the Lesser said with just a hint of tease in his voice. "What would it take to ensure that Stalgasin's Gladiators were the best in all Geonosis, Tau?"
"Competition. Quality opposition," the pale Aristocrat shot back. He'd been waiting for this very moment since Poggle had seized power and had thought over his words many times. "The bigger the pool of competitors and higher the standards, the better the chances of producing exceptional talent, that's my belief."
"I thought you'd say something like that. How many more Gladiators do you want?"
Tau Lee, his mouth already part way open to argue his position further, blinked rapidly a few times, then tucked his chin. "Er, two hundred?"
"Two hundred it is. I suppose you'd like more funding for all the inter-hive matches you'll be pursuing in this search for excellence."
"That would be nice," Tau quipped, composure regained. His amber eyes now glowed with the same fervour as did Brossar's. Poggle beamed back despite his determination to remain cool. He was feeling almost drunk with generosity and the power he now had to indulge his friends as well as himself.
"Coordinate what you want with Fac and Brossar," he concluded, regarding the proud Gladiator warmly. "Happy?"
"Entirely," Tau replied. He tucked his chin again, this time as a gesture of submission. "Thank you, Archduke," he added humbly.
Poggle acknowledged his words and obeisance with another slight nod. He remembered how Tau had once aggressively sniffed him over, all but threatening him. No more. No Geonosian alive would ever dominate him again.
The Archduke lifted his face to the sunshine. The bright rays coaxed out the light undertones in his eyes, turning them momentarily into orbs of gold. "Leave me alone for a while now," he said.
Sun Fac obediently shooed the others back the way they'd come. Poggle was pretty sure he knew what would happen the instant the trio was out of earshot; his lieutenant would turn on his Gladiator friend with some sneering commentary reference keeping one's word. Fac never forgot…
Poggle strolled forward. I fought here, he thought, right here in the middle. We fought the soldier drones and I pulled one of them out of the air on top of me. And then we walked to the pillars, where the other Lesser—what was his name? he had such fast hands—was almost killed by that massiff. The acklay got him instead. That wasn't right. He should have lived. He was a good fighter and I could have used him during my insurrection.
Poggle's old hatred for Hadiss flared up all over again at the thought of having been cheated out of a loyal follower, even though the former Archduke was long gone and digested or ground into fertilizer. Well, not entirely gone. Poggle's hand tightened on the handle of his command staff. The waist-high implement, which he enjoyed employing as a walking cane as well as a symbol of power, was quite obviously made of lengths of limb bone pieced together with bands of finely worked metal and cloth.
The new Archduke looked again to the towering walls surrounding him. Strange to see the stands so empty aside from a smattering of labour and service drones. They'd been teeming with spectators the day he'd won his petrana-ki and fought the acklay; he remembered the yells and screaming and the sea of fluttering wings and roiling bodies. How they'd cheered for him when he defeated the acklay…must have cheered—he had to admit to himself that his memory of the entire acklay fight was rather blurry. He'd been in bloodlust throughout most of it and groggy by the end of it and could only recall bits and snippets here and there.
He hadn't been groggy the day he'd hosted his first games as Archduke, though. That day he could remember with crystal clarity. Thrilling the crowd by riding his acklay into the arena, then flying up off its back to the archducal box—how they'd loved that! Brossar reported that his people now called him the Fighting Archduke or Acklay Master. Poggle liked that. He hoped that gossip about his extraordinary first entrance had made its way to the other hives.
It would in all likelihood remain the only such entrance as well. He was getting too heavy to fly much anymore. Nature was doing its best to equip him with a body reflective of his sudden enormous rise in status and his head and body furnishings were developing explosively, his exoskeletal plating thickening up and convolving itself into decorative knobs and ridges, the skin framing his snout swelling and extending into the long wattles which, nuisance though they were, no self-respecting Vaulted ever failed to cultivate. Even his muscular structure was changing to support his altering exterior—it all made him feel quite itchy and aching and sore by degrees. Still, he enjoyed the process. It was the most compelling evidence yet for his assertion that all Aristocrats were born essentially alike and he knew that the others were impressed by his rapid transformation.
Poggle lifted his command staff, shifted it, and gave it an experimental swish through the air. Like a saber blade. A soldier's sword.
The staff felt good in his hand.
The meeting at the arena left all its participants in an excellent mood, which persisted when they dispersed later to go about their various assigned duties and business. Sun Fac felt so good that he treated himself to a little indulgence as he walked back to his new quarters in the royal spire, by halting before one of the many windows cleverly sited to admit light into the outermost halls and chambers. He'd come to think of this particular window as his own and often stopped before it en route home for a moment or two of introspective reflection.
He gazed with pleasure on the beautifully latticed panes of layered silicate. When he rested his muzzle against the inlaid translucent mineral, he could feel the heat of the brilliant sunshine outside bleeding through and enjoyed its soothing warmth and how the light fell on him as a soft golden glow. Not something he'd ever experienced back in his arena security days. Then, he'd lived deep within the rock cradling Stalgasin and only saw the sun when he ventured outside.
Fac, like Poggle, had also changed in appearance, although not in body. Royal Warriors—and their Gladiator cousins—had been genetically modified a long time ago to not develop the secondary sexual characteristics of full male maturity and dominance. He would never sport the usual natural adornments of an Aristocrat of high status, neither would he lose his slender athleticism and ability to fly; it seemed a fair enough trade-off for the two classes meant to be the physical workers of the Aristocrat caste. Sun Fac had instead adopted a more colourful outfit, elaborating his traditional harness with a metal-gilded base and a bright two-tone breast-cloth, which served to acknowledge his Warrior heritage yet made him stand out, as Poggle wished. Fac always tried to do exactly as his new Archduke requested. He was still somewhat astonished by the realities of his change in circumstances and humbled by Poggle's evident confidence in him, even though he'd never had the slightest doubt that his leader could accomplish his goals.
At least he wore his astonishment with a little more panache these days. Poggle had said he did.
Fac left his window and resumed his walk home. The hall he trod appeared to flow forward around him, an effect caused by the rich sculpting on the walls, both naturalistic and stylized. Some of the designs glittered with inlaid strips of metal and semi-precious gemstone. Living amidst such elegant surroundings was another thing he was still not used to.
"Fac! Wait!"
The Warrior stopped and turned his head to look back over one shoulder. Sun Rit trotted up from behind him. He came to a halt with a cheerful little skip and nuzzled his gene brother affectionately.
"I caught your scent a ways back and tracked you," he said. "So, did old Brossar get the extra seating he wanted?"
"He did and then some. Poggle approved a whole new level."
"Really!" The two fell into step together, just like old times. "That should—hmm. That'll put us on par with Andergau's arena, won't it? If we put in seating for ten thousand more?"
"Brossar guessed twelve. We'll know more once the architects look things over."
"I bet the boss'll wind up approving more than ten. I know him. He wants the best," Rit concluded, sounding smug.
Sun Fac regarded the other Warrior fondly as they walked along. He'd already seen a lot of happy Geonosians on this day and his sibling looked no different. Rit had done very well for himself. Poggle had appointed him chief justice, a position that had seemed at first completely inappropriate given Rit's birthright and background, but, as usual, the Archduke's instincts had been entirely correct. Acting as sole jury and judge appealed to Rit's flair for the dramatic and love of being in the limelight and let him work the one part of his body he was inclined to exercise—his smart mouth. He'd proven a natural at the job and already drew a coterie of fans who attended the public trials for no other reason than to hear the new chief justice's caustic proclamations and inventive sentences. Only the accused ever seemed to have a problem with Rit. Those of higher status, the middle and high-class Aristocrat malcontents Poggle was systematically purging from the ranks, were invariably outraged when they found a lowly Royal Warrior sitting in judgment over them, a reaction which always spurred Rit to even greater heights of sarcastic verbosity and which provided all the more splendid entertainment for the appreciative audience.
Thinking over Sun Rit's situation reminded Fac of another matter. "Weren't you supposed to sentence that bunch from accounting today?" Sun Fac asked him.
"Already done," Rit replied. "I just finished with Poggle's old supervisor. When I asked him whether he had anything to say, he demanded—demanded, mind you!—to confront Poggle face to face and launched into some rot about refusing to acknowledge my authority. I told him he had the brain of a pupa if he expected the Archduke to waste a single second of his precious time on him, and that if he could convince the massiffs in the arena to invalidate my decision, well, he was welcome to do so." He chortled and skipped again, a little half-hitching stride. "That's what I sentenced him to, the massiffs. The boss'll like that, don't you think? Watching him get torn up tomorrow like so much vermin?"
Fac shook his head. "You're a well of compassion, Rit."
"Aren't I, though."
A spell of companionable silence reigned for several moments. Rit brushed his gene brother's arm with his hand.
"He was a good investment," he said. "Wasn't he?"
"He was indeed," Fac agreed.
The two walked on, perfectly content.
On the other side of the royal spire, Archduke Poggle the Lesser was also walking home. A quartet of Royal Warriors, his personal guard, trailed along behind him. All four were from Fac's former residential cell and well familiar to Poggle. He'd rewarded them and other faithfuls after the uprising with the unprecedented opportunity to choose where they wished to work and, much to his surprise, a large number of Warriors, wanting to remain close to him, had volunteered to fill in the decimated ranks of the former Archduke's security forces rather than ascend to higher-status positions elsewhere. After some thought, Poggle had decided to accept them all. There were really more than he needed, but he justified the wastage of personnel by rationalizing that the resultant lesser duty hours assigned per Warrior would translate into satisfaction and greater loyalty overall.
The two Warriors they'd captured during the attack on Hadiss were serving as supervisors for the influx of new security folk. They'd gotten over their old allegiances pretty quickly once taxed and distracted by the unexpected responsibilities and faced with the alternative of death.
Similar blends of personnel had occurred and were still ongoing all through the hive colony. The devastating attack on the Vaulteds had left many sectors bereft of senior leadership. Poggle had promoted middle-class Aristocrats already present in some cases; in others, he'd brought in his own supporters to take up the empty positions. Some Aristocrats couldn't handle the radical reshuffling of the class structure that had favoured them and found themselves speedily demoted, if not worse. Others, afraid of Poggle, had swallowed their misgivings and accepted his decrees without protest and usually retained their jobs and status. It all depended on Poggle's whims and sense of how much he could trust those who had once served his enemy, Hadiss. History also played a role. The Lesser's memory was as keen as Fac's and he allowed his long-festering old hatreds and bitterness free reign, taking his revenge on anyone who'd ever bullied him, insulted him, or simply opposed him in even the slightest way. His ruthlessness already inspired awe and gossip among his followers and much anxiety for those who had dealt with him in the past and had reason to fear his wrath.
Any softness in the new Archduke during those tumultuous first few months after his rise to power had been reserved, oddly enough, for the lowest strata of Geonosian society. When moving into the luxurious new quarters he'd inherited, Poggle had called for the drones that serviced the residence to come before him. They'd been a sad-looking lot, and little wonder. The most a dead Archduke's servants could normally hope for was to be sent to the common pool; at worst, the oncoming ruler would simply have them killed and replaced with his own drones. Poggle's reputation had preceded him and Hadiss' old staff clearly expected to be put to death. They'd stood staring glumly at the floor while he looked them over, suffering what they mistook as his gloating anticipation.
But Poggle had no interest in killing drones. He also had better things to do than waste his people's time in getting together and training up a personal staff for him from scratch. He offered the group before him the same choice he'd offered many Aristocrats—work for him and be happy doing so, or get out of his sight, permanently. The drones had perked up after hearing that. They'd gawped at him, dumbfounded, the thought of switching allegiance instead of being replaced as staggering a notion to them as was Poggle's defeat of their former master. After allowing for a few long moments of staring and shuffling, Poggle had pressed them for a decision.
"Well?" he'd demanded. "What do you say? Anybody?"
Surprisingly, it was one of the service drones and not their overseer who finally spoke up.
"Some of us were allowed to watch the Archduke fight in the arena," she'd said in a clear, confident voice. "We all admire him very much."
As a declaration of loyalty, it was good enough for Poggle. He turned the lot of them over to his new chamberlain, his Lesser friend, Tolmar.
The drone who had spoken up turned out to be a prize. Sensing uncommon quality in her, Poggle had asked Tolmar to ensure that she be retained as his chief personal groom. As it happened, it was a duty already familiar to her and she took to her promotion with real zeal, fussing over and catering to her new Archduke with a thoroughness that surprised him. After the merely adequate care given him by the communally shared service drones in his former residential cell, it was pure joy to have access to such dedicated pampering at any time of the day or night. She always handled his face with especial tenderness and knew exactly which lotions and ointments to apply to his sore growing wattles and poor aching head to best sooth and warm away the nagging pains.
Poggle also quickly determined that his new groom was far more intelligent than she let on. It was always a fine balancing act for the breeding centrex to turn out drones that were smart enough to do their job, but not so smart that they would start questioning their purpose in life. The odd aberrant was bound to slip through. Most Aristocrats didn't like smart drones. Intelligence brought on dissatisfaction and rebelliousness, as Poggle himself knew all too well.
One little drone, however, did not worry him, besides which it was clear that she genuinely liked him and was grateful for his mercy in keeping them all. He encouraged any show of independent spirit and before long she realized that he was not at all like the Vaulteds she'd been used to serving and felt safe in allowing her personality to emerge. Like most drones, she was a dreadful gossip, and Poggle often found himself laughing aloud as she chattered away during their grooming sessions, telling him of the secret rivalries and petty spats amoung his personal staff, making her astute observations with a wry wit that reminded him a lot of Sun Rit. Other times he would allow the relaxation brought on by her ministrations to overwhelm him completely until he lay limp and dozing on the table, getting some much-needed rest while she carefully cleaned and wiped down every last bit of him, proud to be doing all the work herself and to be so trusted by her intriguing new master.
Poggle supposed she was alertly watching for him right now, tucked into some nook of his inner sanctum from which she could monitor the entrances. Drones didn't really have any space of their own. They were expected to stay out of the way close to their place of employment when not needed and find places to snooze where they could. Those like his chief groom, who shared his quarters to a certain extent, actually lived quite well as long as they performed their duties to their master's satisfaction and didn't annoy him.
Poggle's adopted staff had so far pleased him and none of them had anything to fear. They kept his quarters, possessions and his personal self sparkling clean and their overseer was evidently doing a good job of organizing their duties and time so that all appeared well-rested, groomed and fed, yet were always available when Poggle was present. Indeed, they'd become so clever at anticipating his wants that it seemed he had no sooner thought about eating or perusing productivity records than a delicious meal or comm padd would appear in front of him as if by magic. Yes, he would keep his new service drones. He liked knowing that the same hands that had once busied themselves for Hadiss now worked on his behalf.
The door to Poggle's quarters came up and the party slowed and stopped. The soldier drones watching the entrance were, like the Warriors, former arena workers. Poggle nodded at them and watched them flush with pleasure at having been acknowledged by the Archduke himself. It never hurt to boost morale, he thought.
He went inside and, as usual, several drones popped up at once, eager to do his bidding. Poggle ignored them and carried on towards his little personal office. He had more business to attend to before he would let himself think of pleasure.
Once comfortably ensconced in his office, Poggle activated the signal that would let his patron in the Republic know he wished to speak with him, then sat back. He thought while he waited about all the additional information he'd recently gleaned about his generous friend's source of inner strength, this 'Force' that was said to permeate every living thing and the fabric of space itself. Some even claimed that tiny organisms lived inside said same living things and that practitioners of the Force, most especially those self-righteous Jedi, somehow communed with their parasites—really, what absolute nonsense! Trust people like the Jedi to make up a bunch of superstitious pap like that. Poggle had lived a good long while and those parasites he supposedly hosted had never said anything to him.
It was typical of Poggle's nature that he never once considered that the real reason he might not hear anything was because he was far too arrogant to listen. He believed only in the sheer force of will and that knowledge was the true source of power. Genuine Force practitioners like his patron, Lord Sidious, were dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge, he'd learned, even knowledge that others couldn't comprehend or manage, no doubt due to their weak minds. He was not surprised that the Jedi were among those too weak-minded to study and understand the teachings Lord Sidious followed.
Poggle's comm gear suddenly pinged softly and a moment later a small three-dimensional image began to coalesce over the holo-emitter, a good transmission with barely a flicker to mar it. As always, the human pictured wore a full cloak which partially concealed his face. The Lesser sometimes idly wondered what his benefactor looked like, but supposed he would find out soon enough once the Republic regime crumbled.
"Archduke Poggle," the projection appeared to say, "how fortuitous of you to call. What can I do for you?"
Poggle's Basic was getting quite good. He understood the alien words well enough not to have to consult the written translation being simultaneously displayed beneath the ghostly image.
"I'm almost ready to begin the next phase," he replied, getting straight to the point. He'd found that Sidious, like himself, was no lover of meaningless small talk. It was one of the things Poggle liked about him. "I'll have to tempt or frighten the others and need your approval to divulge some of what's coming," he added.
"I see," the human remarked. There was a brief pause. "I presume these other Geonosians can be trusted?"
Poggle snorted at that. "They're Archdukes," he said. "We keep our secrets."
"Yes, I believe you do," Sidious said in a voice tinged with equal amusement. "You've done well, Poggle. Tell them whatever you think they'll need to know. I'll trust in your good judgment."
"Thank you, Lord Sidious. I'm sure I'll be able to sway them. You won't be disappointed."
"I expect not," the human agreed. "And while I have you here, I may as well tell you that you should shortly be receiving a rather large order from the Trade Federation."
"Battle droids?" Poggle interjected. The Trade Federation was his colony's best customer. A big order could mean millions in revenue. "Do you know how many?"
"Some tens of thousands, I should think. I'm sure Viceroy Gunray will soon present you with all the details."
"Yes, I look forward to it." Actually, Poggle despised the annoying Viceroy, but as long as he paid up front, Poggle would welcome the wretched creature. The Sith Lord seemed to share the Lesser's true feelings. Poggle heard him utter the soft repetitious sounds that translated into a low chuckle.
"Contact me again when you've made your first convert," Sidious said. "I'll be most interested in hearing of his reaction to your words."
"I'll do that, Lord Sidious. And thank you again."
"Always a pleasure doing business with you, Archduke," the human said, and the transmission faded. Poggle shifted and sat more upright, taut with excitement. Tens of thousands! He'd gather up Sun Fac and tell him the good news in person, then go see Sperr, the Foundry Master, right away.
Poggle emerged from his office in high good spirits. Walking about the arena floor had made him a little dusty, he'd noticed earlier. He nodded at the waiting service drones this time and put his arms out, and several jumped up to unclasp and remove his garments. By the time they were done, his chief groom was standing in front of him with her kit in one hand, a trayful of food in the other.
"What's this?" Poggle said to her. "It's not your responsibility to see to my meals."
"It is when it affects your appearance," she insisted. "You need meat, sir, to bring out the colour on your wattles and help them grow. It's very fresh, killed just this morning."
"I don't have time for this. What I want is a quick once-over, then I'm going out again."
"You can lie and eat while I do your wings and back," she suggested.
Poggle looked at the chunks of savory raw meat, bathed in a heated sauce of tasty blood dotted with globules of fat. It did seem and smell very appetizing.
"Well, all right, maybe a few bites," he grumbled.
The Archduke stretched himself out on his grooming table and propped himself up with one elbow to accommodate the tray slid close before his snout. He took the tongs provided and lifted a morsel to his mouth, to taste it. A moment later, he was eating hungrily. His chief groom stood behind him, wiping his wings carefully with a soft oiled cloth and looking on with approval.
Poggle got a chance to begin the 'next phase' he'd referenced during his talk with Lord Sidious just a few weeks later when he persuaded a neighbouring Archduke to visit for the first time. This was Falkiss the Vaulted, the Archduke of Andergau. As usual, the invite included venations. There was nothing like a well-laid-on set of games in the arena to make an impression on a Geonosian visitor.
Falkiss the Vaulted noticed the improvements to Stalgasin's arena at once, but refused, of course, to say a word about it. Poggle knew Falkiss had taken note, though. He'd surreptitiously watched his guest out of one eye as the two had stepped out into public view in the archducal box and all the while Poggle had waved and acknowledged his people's gleeful adulation, Falkiss had been looking at the new sections of seating, the skin about his mouth growing taut with grim annoyance. It was the same reaction he'd shown when first meeting Poggle in person; first, the quick startled dart of his gaze over his host's face and body and then the tightening frown. Falkiss clearly didn't care for Lessers that had the effrontery to start looking like Vaulteds and he hated discovering that another colony's coliseum now surpassed his own.
Naturally, none of this could be vocalized and it didn't have to be. That the two would dislike each other was a given. Archdukes were bitter rivals at the best of times, vying against one another in the fields of industry and bloodsport with the same pitiless passion they would have expended on a battlefield. It was a fairly recent development that they could set aside the antipathy between their respective hive colonies and interact and visit with each other with any civility at all. Stalgasin and Andergau had always been especially fierce competitors, with Andergau usually holding the upper hand. Poggle had his reasons for soliciting his greatest rival's visitation and had hoped that his own considerable curiosity value would suffice in enticing Falkiss to Stalgasin, which it had.
Despite himself, Poggle found himself rather admiring Falkiss. The Andergau Aristocrat had overthrown his own former Archduke while still a relative youngster and was now his colony's longest ruling Archduke on record. He was said to be utterly pragmatic, hot-tempered and sometimes viciously obsessive, and Andergau's productivity records certainly supported his reputation. A large, imposing specimen, he sported the sort of lush male furnishings Poggle had yet to acquire and always carried himself with utmost confidence, his snout lifted high to flaunt his lavish wattles, his unusually dark eyes glittering and wary as they glanced constantly about. Poggle concluded that he was quite lucky that he hadn't gone up against a Falkiss instead of Hadiss; he sensed that the Andergau Archduke would never have been so stupid as to pardon a known rebel after any sort of petrana-ki, let alone sentence him to one in the first place.
Imposing or not, what Poggle staged for him in the arena that afternoon did impress Falkiss. At one point he commented favourably about one particular predator that was new to him, no doubt hoping that Poggle would disclose how he'd acquired the alien creature and with whom he'd dealt to achieve the transaction. He also enthused over the Gladiators and suddenly proposed a future series of inter-hive matches on the spot, the closest the two Archdukes came to having a shared moment. Poggle responded by pointing out Tau Lee and warmly recounted how the champion had early on been a key supporter of his, after which Falkiss watched Tau with even keener interest.
With the venations done, Poggle next took his guest off to a comfortable private chamber for some rest and chat, walking en route past the best-looking of the royal spire's latest renovations. Again, Falkiss paid great attention to all he saw, although he wouldn't comment, and this time his mouth worked in a thoughtful fashion rather than clamping grimly shut. Poggle hoped it equated a thawing of the Vaulted's attitude towards him and better receptivity overall. It was important to him that the other Archdukes took him seriously rather than regard him as some unimaginably common upstart with delusions of grandeur.
The two perfectly turned-out Suns, Fac and Rit, had done their part in lending Poggle an air of respectability, accompanying their leader throughout in an attentive and dignified manner and generally keeping their mouths shut in instinctive deference to Falkiss, who had looked them over severely when they'd first been introduced. Royal Warriors just didn't become executive assistants to Archdukes in Falkiss' world, but then neither did Lessers ascend to positions of power. It was a hard reality for the Andergau Aristocrat to swallow. Poggle had watched very carefully as his guest wrestled with his thoughts throughout the afternoon. He did want receptivity, but also a tiny degree of disorientation.
Once inside their private retreat, Poggle and Falkiss sat agreeably together on a comfortable sofa, arms hooked over its back to face one another. Their respective quartets of Royal Warrior guards, there more for show and custom than true security, took up their stations against the walls. Fac and Rit likewise withdrew and stood close at hand, and service drones offered tidbits and refreshments which the two Archdukes nibbled and sipped at, then ignored. For a first official visit, all was going extremely well, far better than Poggle had expected.
Falkiss began talking about all the aerospace traffic his people had been registering recently in the general vicinity, fishing about for some hint as to how much cargo the vessels landing at Stalgasin's spaceport had been taking on. Poggle mildly agreed that there had indeed been a great deal of traffic as of late, the Trade Federation mostly. He glanced at his Royal Warriors as he spoke and at Falkiss' guards. The Andergau Warriors were still looking curiously at the two Suns, obviously intrigued at seeing members of their own class working at such prestigious jobs. Distracted—good. He turned his attention back to Falkiss.
"Those new CTR class core ships the Trade Federation is using," the Vaulted said, "they have quite the increased capacity, don't they?"
"Oh yes. Quite so."
"Enough for six more full racks of droids, would you say?"
"More like eight," Poggle replied. He stretched out the arm hooked over the back of the sofa, reaching for the beverages the drones had left for them. "Excuse me, Archduke, my mouth is quite dry. I do believe…I'll have another drink."
Instantly, Poggle's four guards jumped the Andergau Warriors. Fac whistled shrilly, then he and Rit leapt in to help. An additional squad of Warriors charged through the doorway. In a twinkling, the lot had subdued their brethren and began marching them out. Poggle swiveled his head to watch.
"Don't hurt them!" he called. "Just keep them handy outside. Tell them they'll be let back inside in a little while."
"Will do, sir," Fac acknowledged, and they disappeared. Poggle, satisfied, turned back to his guest, happily anticipating the amusing look of shock on his face.
Falkiss was gone. Startled, Poggle looked about. The Vaulted was standing against the wall at the far side of the chamber, his hands up defensively. He'd managed to leap over the back of the sofa without upsetting the attached table, hurdle a couple of divans, and get across the spacious room, all in the space of several seconds. No wonder he'd been in power so long, Poggle thought—no assassin could catch him!
He started laughing. Falkiss swore horribly back at him.
"I should have known I couldn't trust you!" he cried. "A bloody Lesser! Stalgasin is doomed, Poggle, doomed! My people's revenge will be terrible!"
"Will you relax!" Poggle exclaimed. "Falkiss, please come back over here. I have no intention of hurting you."
"Blast you, what sort of bloody stupid game are you playing at now!"
"No game at all. I just need to talk to you privately. I didn't want your guards listening in."
This earned him another long blistering string of oaths. "You could have asked me!" Falkiss screeched.
"Really? Ask you to send out your guards voluntarily? Would you have done that?"
The other Aristocrat blinked. A sullen expression replaced the anger. "No," he admitted.
"Then please come and sit back down beside me. Or are you afraid of me?"
The implied allegation worked to sting the other's touchy pride. Falkiss came back, walking stiffly, still smouldering with rage. He sat down again next to Poggle with an air that suggested he'd just as soon strangle the Lesser as speak with him.
"What do you want?" he asked roughly.
Poggle leaned closer, mustering his will, licking his own mouth in his anxious concentration. "Falkiss, Archduke, look at me," he said. "Will you do that?"
The Vaulted did as requested, suspiciously. He didn't like Poggle hovering in so close to him. The strong male scent of him irritated Falkiss and aroused his aggression. He averted his snout a little.
"You've wondered about how I defeated Hadiss, haven't you?" Poggle said.
It wasn't what Falkiss expected to hear. He shifted his jaws. "You're persuasive enough," he grudgingly replied. "I'm sitting here, aren't I?"
"Talk alone doesn't elevate you from lowest to highest."
Falkiss glowered at him. "What are you getting at, Poggle?"
"What I'm getting at is…how would you like to make more money than you've ever dreamed of?"
The other jerked back, eyes widening. "You're— This is some trick."
"Oh, it's no trick," Poggle said. "Listen to me, Falkiss. Listen carefully. There is a great storm coming, one with power enough to sweep through the entire galaxy. It's going to tear out the heart of the Old Republic, demolish their regime, cleanse away all their stupid bureaucracy and restrictions and sanctions. A storm of reform, Falkiss. A whirlwind! Eventually, it will sweep over us too, at which point we can either duck and let it pass, or stand up and embrace it and take our place in the rebuilding in its aftermath. And there'll be such rebuilding, Falkiss, you have no idea. If we accept this, if we embrace it, we'll rule. Free trade will rule. Industry will rule! A whole galaxy to do over, Falkiss, think of it. We could make billions. Trillions!"
He halted, panting. Falkiss was staring at him, mouth open. He gulped, cleared his throat, gulped again.
"Did—did you say…trillions?" he breathed in a tiny voice.
Poggle sat back. He knew he had him.
TBC