CREAM RISES

Chapter 7 – Clients And Colleagues

On an access platform in the foundries of Stalgasin, Archduke Poggle the Lesser gazed at Viceroy Nute Gunray and wondered how far his fingers would sink into the Neimoidian's soft, fleshy neck if he seized him by the throat. Perhaps his hands would dig in so far that they'd even meet one another somewhere in the vicinity of Gunray's gullet—the creature seemed to have no bones at all. Neimoidians always looked to Poggle as though they'd passed directly from a larval stage into that of an adult, by simply gaining size and extruding limbs and eyes instead of decently metamorphosizing as did his own Geonosian species. Maybe they developed a framework of cartilage to prop them up from the inside. They certainly seemed rubbery enough.

Nute Gunray abruptly stopped talking and his expression shifted into something vacillating between suspicion and fear. "Poggle!" he exclaimed. "Are you listen-ing?"

"Of course, Viceroy. '…capitulated as soon they saw our droidekas.' I hear every word you say."

Gunray still looked doubtful, but that didn't stop him from rattling on again. Really, the fellow was pathetic. Poggle couldn't comprehend how someone so naïve could have risen to a position of such authority. And after learning of the true facts behind the Viceroy's recent humiliating defeat on that backward planet, Naboo, how could one not perceive him as idiotic and cowardly as well? Gunray's only remaining saving grace was that he always paid his debts promptly and in full, otherwise Poggle had come to think of the Neimoidian as completely useless—and on a planet where being useless was synonymous with having lost one's right to existence, this was a grave insult indeed.

Poggle was dealing with the Neimoidians on his own for this particular visit. The Foundry Master, Sperr, had lost all patience with them long ago and was inclined to lose his temper, and Sun Fac was always so upset by Gunray's shenanigans that Poggle was sometimes afraid that his poor exec would crack a tooth when grinding his jaws in his exasperation. Rit could find some humour in the Viceroy, but was busy elsewhere, which left the Archduke alone to squire his annoying clients about on their factory tour. It was a self-appointed duty Poggle was finding surprisingly tolerable. He'd just finished hashing out a huge new order from the Neimoidians, for one thing, an occurrence that always had the pleasant bonus of making the aliens seem positively likeable, if only for a few brief hours.

In was in this spirit of temporary good-will that Poggle had steered the Viceroy and his oafish aide to that portion of the foundry where the outer shells of the automatons were normally poured and shaped. Despite all the noise and constant sharp odours that stabbed one's olfactory sense, Gunray did love his visits to the droid factory, Poggle had to grant him that; he seemed to derive great pleasure from watching the machines being assembled and would stand rubbing his hands together, a big smile plastered on his malleable face, while the near-finished units whipped past him on the conveyer belts. Poggle thought he was probably imagining his glossy new droids engaged in shaking down some victim or other for more taxes.

"Viceroy," Poggle said, "do you remember the plans we were looking at earlier, for your super battle droid?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to see part of one of the prototypes?"

"Wha-at? You have it done?"

"Just the shell. We're still fitting the components that—"

But Gunray had already barged forward to the front of the access platform, getting dangerously close to the moving machinery. "Where is it? Show it to me!"

"Viceroy, you really shouldn't—"

Too late. A stamper, crashing down in a fury of shearing metals, threw up a shower of sparks. One fell on the hem of Gunray's voluminous robe and ignited with a little puff of smoke.

"Aaaahhh! I am on fire! Put it out! Put it out!" the Viceroy cried.

His aide stooped to brush at the tiny flame. His swats managed to extinguish the spark, but he burnt his hand. Now both of them were whirling about and yelling and flailing their arms. Poggle started to laugh—he couldn't help it—then slammed his mouth shut in the nick of time. What came out, a sound midway between a honk and a bray, would hopefully be misconstrued as a yelp of concern.

The automated stamper flung up another spray of sparks and a glowing slip landed on Gunray again, this time on one of his sleeves. He shook his arm wildly, screaming, "Get it off me!", at his poor beleaguered aide, who seemed unable to coordinate sucking at the wounded finger on his one hand and slapping at Gunray's sleeve with the other. It took a nearby soldier drone to seize the initiative and use the tip of his personal static pike to finally flick the offending bit of metal away. Unfortunately, the pike was activated and also delivered a hefty shock to the Viceroy's arm.

Gunray's shrieks instantly trebled in intensity and he went from whirling to bouncing up and down. The only good part was that his jumps carried him away from the dangerous machinery and back towards Poggle. The Archduke put a hand out to try and steady the Viceroy.

"Easy! You're not hurt, are you?"

"This is outrageous!" Gunray shouted. He clutched at his jolted arm. "I could have been killed!"

"Oh, come now, Viceroy. You're far too quick and clever for that. What's a couple of sparks between friends?"

The Neimoidian fixed his goggle-eyed gaze on the cringing soldier. "He attack-ed me!"

"I'll see to that matter myself right now," Poggle soothed. "Why don't you go on ahead and have one of our medical droids look you over, just in case? I can have parts of the prototype body brought to one of our design shops in the meantime and we'll look at it there, where it's more comfortable."

Gunray, mollified by Poggle's solicitude, deflated visibly and began rubbing at his arm with exaggerated concern. "Very well," he decided. "But I'm going to have to change. I can't go about looking like this."

The hole he displayed in his sleeve was barely visible to Poggle's eyes, but the Geonosian nodded gravely nonetheless.

"Of course, Viceroy. Take all the time you need. I'm at your disposal."

He gestured at a couple of his Royal Warrior guards to accompany the Neimoidians, and Gunray, fully appeased, flounced off, his fawning lackey trailing along in his wake. Poggle turned back to his own people.

The soldier drone in question was already standing and waiting, flanked by his overseer and Warrior supervisor. "Give me your pike," Poggle said to him, and the soldier did so, then went back to waiting, head hanging, for the punishing blow or worse. The Archduke looked the weapon over closely. He flicked the toggle that activated its static charge, turning it from off to on several times.

"Ah, here's the problem," he concluded. "This lever is loose." He handed the pike to the overseer. "Make sure that he gets a properly working one next time. That's your job. As for you…" He regarded the soldier drone critically. "The rest of the day off should do. And see to it that he gets unlimited rations for the day as well."

The Warrior officer thought he'd misunderstood. "S-sir?" he exclaimed.

"You heard me. The day off and unlimited rations," Poggle reiterated sharply. "He tried to help, which was more than any of you did. I won't have honest effort go unrewarded." He spoke again to the drone, kindly. "You did try to help, didn't you?" he asked, and the soldier, faint with so much conflicting attention focused on him all at once, affirmed his intent in a small, breathy voice.

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

"There, you see? Not his fault if his pike suffered a glitch. Now carry on, the lot of you. And the next time any Neimoidian imbecile tries to walk right up to working machinery, you all have my permission to tackle him immediately."

He turned away before the others could react and gestured at his remaining two Royal Warrior guards to fall in behind. Both had their chins tucked severely, trying very hard to appear solemn and sober. Poggle stamped his staff as he swaggered along and flicked his wings from time to time, just because he felt like it. Oh yes, no matter what they did, his friends in the Trade Federation would always receive his most careful attention.

Time went by, months of time… Another year, another tour through the weapons facilities of yet another hive colony… Archduke Poggle the Lesser had gotten so good at going through the motions of power that he believed he could host a visit while in a resting torpor, but there were still some that demanded his undivided attention and engaged his interest. Such as this one, by that intriguing native of Skako, Wat Tambor. Tambor was one of the very few aliens Poggle had developed any genuine liking for and for which he would do almost anything, for reasons both professional and personal.

All the Geonosians Poggle knew seemed to like Wat Tambor, or at least were tolerant of him. Something about him served to set aside the contempt with which Geonosians normally regarded other sentient species. After much thought, Poggle had come to the conclusion that it was the mechanical appearance of the protective environmental suit which encased Tambor that was negating the usual xenophobia; he looked far more machine than living being and even his voice was artificially generated, so that he sounded not unlike a messenger droid when speaking. Despite the very real barriers separating them, Poggle nonetheless sensed a kindred spirit beneath the machinery. Tambor's words bespoke those of a passionate industrialist and technocrat, and his frank and easy-going manner was one the Archduke responded to very well.

Tambor was also, in one sense, the Lesser's superior. Like most Geonosian factories devoted to building weapons for export, the foundries of Stalgasin laboured under the auspices of a corporation that was in turn a signatory of the mega-conglomerate Techno Union. Tambor, chief foreman of the Union, oversaw all the plants beholden to his institution and helped ensure that all got their contractual share. Poggle had requested the Skakoan's latest visit with an eye towards showing off the added facilities now under the Lesser's direct control and wooing the alien into sending more work—and revenue—their way.

The inefficiency of the factories on Geonosis had long been a sore point with Poggle. Even as a lowly accountant, he'd known there were problems; he'd looked over the records and numbers and saw that even a colony known for its high productivity, such as Stalgasin, was in truth running well below its actual capacity and sometimes sitting idle for lack of work. One of the first things he'd done once in power was request a meeting with Tambor to talk over his concerns reference his world's ties to the Techno Union. The Skakoan had been very up front with him and had confirmed all of Poggle's suspicions. There were indeed many customers shying away because of the Geonosians' reputation for political instability. Yes, the quality of their goods was superlative, in some cases, unsurpassed, but even the Union found it tiresome and inefficient to have to deal with the colonies on an individual basis and sometimes chose to direct very large orders elsewhere for that reason alone. Poggle had swallowed his anger and pride upon hearing this and had thanked Wat Tambor profusely for his honesty. Shortly thereafter, the Archduke had begun his campaign to unite all the prime hive colonies under his rule.

It had been easier than he'd anticipated. Gossip about unknown friends in high places probably helped. Perhaps the other Archdukes also saw the problems, but lacked the initiative to do anything about them. Once Poggle had tempted or bullied the first dozen hive leaders into seeing things his way, the others had begun coming over voluntarily, no doubt envious or frightened in turn.

The hive colony that Poggle and his staff and guest had just visited had been one of the most recent converts. Tendelhof, led by Archduke Degelin the Vaulted, was a rather small colony that had been barely scraping by. No one had been starving, but neither did they have the resources to expand, and their labour drones spent more time in stasis than they ever did at actual labour. Degelin had carefully watched what became of neighbor hives that joined with Poggle and what he'd seen had convinced him. He'd come to the Lesser alone and humbled himself, even offered to turn over every bit of profit from their first job in exchange for the chance for his people to prove themselves reliable and hardworking. His plea had struck a chord with Poggle and he'd given Degelin his opportunity. Now, scant months later, small or not, Tendelhof was one of his most profitable holdings, and Poggle had brought Tambor to see for himself what the little colony had accomplished and to hopefully approve Techno Union funded expansions and upgrades to Tendelhof's factories. To his delight, the Skakoan good-naturedly acquiesced almost at once. And if Poggle had been delighted, Degelin had been positively ecstatic—over and over again he'd insisted on thanking the Lesser and bowing before him, face averted and wings clamped tight, almost groveling in his gratitude. Poggle accepted it all as his rightful due. He knew that Tendelhof's well-documented turnaround, from poor to prosperous, not only benefited a lot of fellow Geonosians, but made his own managerial skills look very, very good…

Tendelhof wasn't the only hive colony that had been granted funding on this inspection tour. Tambor obviously liked what he saw and had been generous. While walking back to the royal yacht after finishing with Tendelhof, Tambor sidled close to his Geonosian host and quietly said, "This has been impressive. We'll talk privately later on.", and Poggle felt within himself a surge of exhilaration not unlike the one he'd experienced upon learning that his planned overthrow of Hadiss had worked to perfection. He sensed himself again on the verge of attaining great power and jacked his head high and strode on with loftier carriage, his steps becoming as spritely and buoyant as those of a scrawny, light-bodied youngster newly emerged from his pupa.

The party of inspectors was soon underway again, the yacht, an interplanetary sloop extensively modified to Poggle's tastes and needs, streaking low over the stark mesas and plains en route home to Stalgasin. Six little Nantex-class Geonosian starfighters, the aero-workhorses of every prime hive's security forces, accompanied the royal yacht, three per side, trailing closely behind in an arrowhead formation. Poggle had no compunction in ordering his pilots to cut brazenly across other colonies' air spaces and always traveled with a starfighter escort battle-ready and alertly in place, just in case. So far none of the still independent hives had dared challenge his presumed authority.

One of the yacht's most impressive features was the big lounge-like cabin sandwiched between the ship's twin stacked prows, which offered stylish transport for as many as two dozen Geonosian-sized individuals and a wonderful look at the passing scenery through the extensive wrap-about view ports lining the cabin's front and sides. Communal seating hugged the sides so that one could half-recline and watch the world streak by virtually beneath one's snout, and there was an island of further seating in the cabin's center for those less appreciative of views from a height. Tambor usually used the center island, which better accommodated his humanoid propensity to sit rigidly upright with his legs bent downward and feet on the floor. The Geonosians, immune to acrophobia and preferring to sprawl sideways onto one haunch with their legs drawn up, always chose the window seats.

The royal yacht's crew included its own service drones, of course, carefully trained to see to their passengers' comforts, but they were little needed for this particular outing. There were only the four of them after all—Poggle, his chief lieutenant, Sun Fac, and his Foundry Master, Sperr, and their alien visitor. And there was the Archduke's chief groom, lying on one of the far ends of the communal seating, her long limbs folded close, curled up into a compact ball except for her head, which she kept elevated in order to stare fascinated at Wat Tambor. Poggle had gotten into the habit of taking her along on long inspection tours, in part as a reward for looking after him so well, and because he'd gotten rather fussy about his appearance and liked having his armoured, bejeweled vest and skirt and his face touched up between stops. She'd also become a surprisingly effective little spy, who was prone to hearing all sorts of interesting things when left behind to tidy up. Even Sun Fac didn't know how smart she really was. It was a little secret shared between Poggle and his service drone alone.

It was largely thanks to the chief groom that Sperr was enjoying his current favour with Poggle. The drone had overheard him angrily defending the new Archduke before other, more skeptical Vaulteds, declaring that Poggle, Lesser or not, was the best thing that had ever happened to Stalgasin. This revelation only confirmed Poggle's feeling that Sperr, like Fac, had long been a Geonosian sorely in need of respect-worthy leadership. He'd begun taking the Vaulted along on his tours after that, with an eye towards grooming him to eventually oversee all of the foundries on Geonosis. It was a responsibility that the Archduke thought Sperr would be eager to embrace and that the overworked Sun Fac would no doubt be equally happy to relinquish.

Poggle regarded his underlings with pleasure as their transport flew serenely onward. Both had fully justified his faith in them. Fac had been a bit hesitant at first, true, and Sperr still had his moments of inbred superciliousness, but the two always yielded in the end to the greater good and Poggle's authority. They were highly intelligent, enthusiastic and loyal, and if Poggle had been born to power and followed the social norms, he wouldn't have been making a fraction of his use of either of them. Pah! So much for the old ways. Poggle liked his own way much better.

Sperr was, if anything, even more intrigued by Tambor than was Poggle, and thoroughly enjoyed any opportunity to chat with the alien foreman. Poggly idly listened to their conversation while he looked out a view port and watched the sharp-etched, sun-drenched horizon roll by. He could not remember a time when he'd felt more content. In the midst of this contemplative interlude, Tambor dropped a bombshell by announcing that the corporation through which the Geonosians marketed their weapons and droids, Baktoid Combat Automata, was changing its name.

"What!" Sperr exclaimed. "What for?"

"The Republic has been pressuring us for some time," Tambor explained. "They consider its current name too war-like."

This prompted an incredulous yelp from Sperr and a shared glance between Poggle and Fac. "War-like!" the Foundry Master echoed. "That is totally ridiculous. What do they think we're building here, mobile security units?"

Tambor gazed back steadily, quite unruffled, or at least they always assumed he was gazing—his actual eyes were covered up by impenetrable round lenses. "That's quite a good suggestion. I may recommend it to my colleagues," he said.

"You can call them automated waste receptacles, for all I care," Sperr grumbled on, "as long as you don't—" He abruptly stopped and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You're not going to ask us to alter our designs—are you?"

The Skakoan was quick to reassure his Geonosian hosts.

"No. For you, it's merely a formality. There'll be no requirement for operational changes."

"I don't like the sound of this," Poggle interjected. "What's really going on here, Wat? It's the pacifists again, isn't it? Peddling their useless morality?"

"They have been a concern," Tambor admitted. "We're considering moving some of our plants to the Rim or dissolving them altogether. You're expanding your facilities at a good time, Archduke. We may have need of them."

"That bad…"

"And worsening by the day. The regulations governing trade, they're becoming intolerable. I can't comprehend the mindset of the Senate anymore. They seem determined to make it as difficult as possible to distribute new technology. It's already hindering progress and profit."

"The Republic bows to its weak," Poggle opined. "You're trying to deal with people who have the misguided notion that everyone should share in everything, no matter what their actual contribution."

"Yes, I have long observed this propensity for equal allocation. It is baffling."

"It's a recipe for mediocrity and stagnation, is what it is," Poggle continued. He was watching the Skakoan very closely now, although his pose remained otherwise relaxed. "Our leaders saw it centuries ago. It's why we've always refused to join the Republic…as is. If they ever implemented some sensible reforms, however…"

He let his voice fade off suggestively. Tambor sat in silence a moment longer, then said, "It's more likely that a different system altogether would have to arise. I've heard rumours… People are unhappy. There's talk that many systems are thinking of leaving."

"Are they now! Well, who could blame them? Not I," Poggle remarked, and fell quiet again. He left the obvious follow-up question unspoken. The ambiguous silence was far more effective.

Sperr, still stewing over the statement that had initiated the conversation, suddenly asked what Baktoid was changing its name to.

"Baktoid Armour Worship," Tambor replied.

Sperr snorted. "Defensive, vague and ambivalent. Typically Republican," he declared, and everyone, except for the Archduke's puzzled groom, had a good laugh.

Poggle soon afterwards received another visitor that he considered worthy of his undivided attention. This one the Archduke first met all on his own in one of the subterranean parking bays reserved for VIPs, standing and watching as the landing platform lowered down from the outside ground level above and admiring the small personal spacecraft that came slowly into view. Poggle fancied that he'd become quite adept at gauging much about a visitor by the sort of vessel he or she rode in. This particular ship, a little beauty that was all flowing curves and sleekness, met with his immediate approval and own preferred aesthetic sense and he guessed that he was about to meet someone of quality and elegance. And strength—there was hidden power under that slick exterior if one could believe the details of its recent itinerary. All these observations both excited and reassured the Geonosian leader. The visitor he was about to meet was the first ever directly dispatched to him by his generous patron, Lord Sidious.

It was a bit of a shame, Poggle thought, that Sidious himself had not come to meet him. Sidious was the one who could most appreciate all that he, Poggle, had accomplished; had known him when he was still just another cog in the ruling machine being chafed by mediocre supervision, albeit one that had refused to let himself be ground flat! And now… Poggle shifted his hands on the handle of his command staff as he waited. The slight movements made the many golden bracelets he wore on his forearms clink gently together. Each plain armlet represented a prime colony that was now under his direct control, a symbolic coming together of every single important hive on the entire planet and the unification of all his people at last into a single magnificent juggernaut, all orchestrated solely by himself, Poggle, the Archduke that was merely a Lesser. Yes, it was a shame Sidious could not come to acknowledge his triumph in person. But this person he had sent would do in the meantime. Like Sidious, he was said to be a Sith, a Sith in training, if Poggle had understood correctly. Even more intriguing, he had once been a member of the Jedi Order. How curious to think that he'd be meeting his first Jedi and first Sith Lord, all at once.

The platform came to rest in its recessed setting at floor level and the roof leaves above finished sliding shut, restoring the security of the underground hangar. Poggle had had a number of such new landing pads built close to the royal spire in order to accommodate the growing number of important offworlders that now visited him. Most were clients, bringing with them the orders and revenue that kept the Geonosian foundries humming and Poggle wealthy. Others, impressed or perhaps alarmed by Geonosis' rapid industrial rise, came currying favours of one sort or another. And a few, those very few Poggle considered his equals or superiors, arrived as potential friends as well as business and political associates. The Archduke hoped to make a friend of this particular associate.

A stair-ramp lowered from the sleek ship's belly and a moment later a single humanoid stepped down to the hangar's burnished floor. Aside from his head and hands, he was fully covered after the fashion of his kind. An additional covering, a cape, streamed over his shoulders and back. The hair he wore, framing his face, was quite white, which Poggle understood indicated advanced age, yet he stood and moved with the self-possessed vigour and confidence of a male in his prime. He looked for his host, spotted him, and began walking towards the waiting Archduke. As he came up, Poggle saw that the alien was of like height to himself and that he could look directly across into the other's eyes. They were compelling eyes, too, frank and intense, with none of the usual human tendency to glance nervously away. Poggle held the other's steady gaze until the man halted before him.

He dipped his snout, gravely. "I welcome you to the Sovereign System of Geonosis, Count Dooku," he said in Basic, knowing that his harsh and guttural pronunciation of the alien words and sing-song inflection would grate, but doing the best he could given his distinctive physiology. "I apologize for my accent."

"Oh, but you needn't, Archduke. You speak Basic far better than I could ever hope to speak Geonosian," the Count replied in a low, curiously soothing voice. "I do, however, understand your language. If you would like…"

Poggle accepted the suggestion, somewhat gratefully. "Very well," he said, switching back to his native tongue. "Then again, in the language of my world, I welcome you to Geonosis."

The human bowed forward in turn, a courtly, dignified gesture not so unlike Poggle's own. "I accept your welcome and thank you, Archduke Poggle the Lesser. I also bring you greetings from my Master, who wishes you well. He regrets that he could not come to meet with you himself, but as you can well imagine, there are many matters occupying his time."

"Of course. I understand fully."

Poggle turned slightly and gestured with his arm, inviting his guest to walk beside him. Dooku did so and they strolled forward, the human's fine cape rustling softly. There was about him an aura of quality and regality, the same as that exuded by a Geonosian Aristocrat of the finest possible breeding—already Poggle liked this alien. He looked at Dooku out of one eye and Dooku inclined his head and smiled back. Yes, a definite aura. The Archduke's curiosity surged to the fore.

"I am surprised by your ability to understand Geonosian without a translator," he said. "I was given to believe that my language is, er, somewhat difficult for humanoids to comprehend."

"Difficult, but not impossible," the Count replied. "I learned because I thought it would facilitate communications between us. Also, my Master desired it."

"Indeed," Poggle remarked, his surprise now genuine.

"Yes. As you know, I am en route to Raxus Prime, and expect to be based there for some time in order to best facilitate the work required of me. But I was also tasked to meet with you, Archduke, with the intent of establishing closer ties. To act as—shall we say—a go-between, for yourself and for my Master."

The Lesser felt excitement jolt through him. "Closer ties?" he prompted.

"Oh yes." Dooku smiled again. His eyes gleamed like those of a Gladiator about to step into the arena. "You've impressed us, Archduke, myself and even more so, Lord Sidious. What you've done with your world, your populace…it's uncommon to find a person of your determination and vision. We conferred and decided that it was perhaps time to expand your participation in our plans. That is, if you are interested in doing so."

"Yes! Of course I—" He caught himself before he degenerated into babbling like an agitated drone. "Well, I—might be," he concluded.

Another upward tilt of those mobile lips—he hadn't fooled his guest at all—but there was no malice in that expression, just mild amusement and a certain…could it be, approval? Yes, certainly approval. Dooku was pleased by his enthusiasm and Sidious would be also. Interested! What a joke! As if he wouldn't be!

The two strode on, the human, elegant and patrician, keeping his secrets for now; the Geonosian, ostentatious in his glittering, clinking finery, near swaggering with pleasure and pride. All of Poggle's fondest dreams were coming true. He sensed that he and his people had a great role to play in what was to come and that this man beside him, envoy of Sidious, would guide him on his path. It was an exhilarating, almost intoxicating prospect, one that would guarantee his world its favoured place in the new order to come. And all because of him, Poggle, first Archduke of all Geonosis. Maker of history.

Poggle would get his wish. In the ages yet to come, his name would indeed be remembered, and so would the people of his planet, Geonosis.

They just wouldn't be remembered for the reasons he envisioned.

The End