Coruscant.

The capital of the Old Republic. Indisputably, the most important world in the galaxy. The heart of intergalactic commerce, situated at Hyperspace coordinates 0,0,0. It was the crux of the major trade routes, and one of the richest planets in the galaxy. When the Galactic Empire came about, Coruscant took on the trappings of an armed camp; strict weapons laws were enforced and the Imperial Palace was closed to visitors. Along with the palaces of Black Sun and Darth Vader himself…the Imperial Palace was but a spot on the horizon. Unattainable, even to the most dedicated.

But for a fledgling politician who called himself Palpatine, the Imperial Palace was a jewel. A goal. To be reached at any cost, for a reason he couldn't quite explain. Not yet, anyway.


"Who are you?"

Palpatine's voice cut through the darkness and the strange silence of an empty Theed streetway. On hearing the voice, the man in the dark cloak turned his head a degree to his right.

Palpatine looked at the cloaked man. And the cloaked man looked right back at him.

"My name is merely Plagueis. But I speak for something much larger than either of us. An ideal which serves a much higher purpose. And ideal which can offer you a path. A raison d'être, as it were."

"And?" Palpatine was instantly annoyed with the stoic nature of his guest.

"There is a reason I've come to you. I think you already know why. Did you not find it exceedingly easy for me to control your teachers?"

"I did," Palpatine says narrowly.

"Then you will not find difficult what I have in mind for you, young master. Don't you wonder…how you were able to punish young Talonn those years ago?"

Palpatine's face contorted in worry and confusion. "How…how would you know a thing like that?"

"Because," Plagueis said, staring straight into Palpatine. "I know many things. You and I, young master, we have seen history have we not? We are living it now. Join me…and you will be able to make history by your own hand." Plagueis' eyes stood out from behind the blackness of the cloak. They glowed with a warm and sinister burgundy. "You will be more powerful than any living man. You, young master…you will have the stars in the palm of your hand.

Plagueis' eyes narrowed and he stepped away from Palpatine. Spoke with a sigh: "but it is not a road lightly tread. There are…sacrifices…for progress."

Palpatine touched a finger to his chin, thinking it over. The Force wasn't exactly required reading in the prep schools of Theed. And yet…

Power.

He lifted his head and spoke.

"You don't waste any time, do you?"

His back turned to Palpatine, Plagueis let out a curt and grave "No." He turned slowly and folded his arms over his chest. The hood covering his face made visible only his mouth and point of the aquiline nose. Like he was nothing but a mouth under the shadows of a cloak. It was a curious sight. Palpatine's eyes narrowed and he considered the man's physical trappings for a moment before Plagueis spoke.

"I can help you, Palpatine. Your anger gives you great strength—it is dedicated to the world around you—but you must focus it. Find a point to which you can devote the entirety of your person. And you shall attain that which you so ardently seek."

"And that is?"

"Power," Plagueis said. "Unlimited power."

Palpatine stared at Plagueis for an interminable time, silent.

"What if I say no?"

"There are other opportunities, young master. Other goals. But your power was most prescient to me. I offer you this opportunity now. Without strings."

"I'm listening." Palpatine never could keep quiet when someone other than himself was speaking.

"You know the history of the Force, its awe and splendor. I can teach you to harness its power for your own use, and in so doing become a powerful man. A god among insects. Become my apprentice, Palpatine. Use my knowledge, and you will be able to mandate justice as you see fit."

It took Palpatine an hour to pack his things and leave a document reader on his desk, obliquely resigning his post and giving an equally oblique alibi: "taking an extended leave of absence in the Outer Rim."

Thus it was that the man called Plagueis trained Palpatine for an end he would not divulge. This was done in secret, on the capital world of Coruscant. The home of the Jedi. In his private moments, Palpatine pondered how the Jedi, with their apparent power, had not detected Plagueis. No one knew what Palpatine was doing with his nights, save for the fact that a single pane of his apartment widow burned brightly with the light of late-night studies.

"The Living Force."

That's what Plagueis had told him. "That all life is interconnected, and that we must focus our thinking on the here and now, my young friend. This school of thought is your enemy. Know this."

"Why?" Palpatine was always questioning. A lesser mind would have thought it insolence. Plagueis found it inquisitiveness. It was welcome.

"Our focus must be on the future, my young apprentice. To grasp it, sense it, understand it. And eventually master it. To mold the events yet to unfold to our favor. This is the essence of our cause."

"Control."

"Yes," Plagueis said nonchalantly. Then he held his hands at mid-torso height, the fingers curling downward. To Palpatine, the strike came slowly. As if the universe around him slowed to inexorable measure.

First, a tingling, burning sensation in Palpatine's ribs. A surge of electrical energy surging through his body and up his spine, incapacitating him and sending him to floor, writhing in spasms of pain. At the corners of his eyes, tears welled. Palpatine swept them away hastily, angrily, before his master caught sight.

"It is about fear," Plagueis said. And struck again. More lightning. The world went dark for a moment, and Palpatine blacked out briefly. When his sight returned, he saw his master. Plagueis. Staring down at him with a scientist's distant stare.

"This lesson, my young apprentice...is about fear. Anger. The two complement each other, you see. We are angry at that which makes us afraid, angry that we cannot overcome our infantile phobias."

Palpatine's body spasmed and ached from the lightning. His jaw clenched, and for a moment he hated his master with all the energy he had left.

"So tell me," Plagueis said with a grim expression. He kneeled and touched two fingers to Palpatine's forehead. "What do you fear, my apprentice? What makes you angry?"

Breathless, Palpatine choked out the word: "presumption."

"Interesting diction. Presumption of faith? Love? Property? Someone stealing what you see as yours? Or tertiary theft? Injustice to another, perhaps, a childhood friend?"

"No," Palpatine said. It was forceful and snide. He found the energy to sit up. Plagueis stood. "Other people's problems are no concern to me. They can deal with it themselves."

"Then what is it?"

"The wanton nature of it. The chaos."

"The criminal who plans his escapades—this is the type of man you loathe?" Plagueis' eyes narrowed. "Planned to the last minutiae?"

"The type of man who presumes to act on things that are not his. He covets, he steals, he…murders. All in the name of the Why-Not." Palpatine said. Plagueis smiled.

"You are a quick learner, my young apprentice. And you have yet much to learn."

"Thank you," Palpatine said, effortless and empty.

"We shall discuss this more tomorrow."

A brief silence, and then Plagueis extended a hand to Palpatine.

"Come," he said cordially, wrapping the hand and the arm around his apprentice's shoulder. "You know of chaos, and you know of order. You appreciate the latter. Let me help you to learn the subtleties of the Force. Its mythology, its scale and its...wars."

"Wars?"

"Yes," Plagueis said. "The Force is an engine for discord. Its believers have used this knowledge for thousands of years. Doubtless, my apprentice, you know of the Jedi."

"Doubtless," Palpatine repeated, hollow.

"They are the light. We are the dark. Where there is light, the shadow runs deeper. For those thousands of years, the Jedi have continuously seen fit to interfere in our affairs—even those operating within the boundaries of legality. We commit no evil, and the Jedi still wish to destroy us. This is fact."

"I don't...I don't understand." The words were difficult for Palpatine to conjure. To even say. A boy of sixteen should not have trouble saying such things, but Palpatine did. He had always understood. Questions were not new to Palpatine—merely gateways to knowledge. Admitting one's ignorance? That was weakness. And he hated it.

"Let me impart to you just one example of Jedi treachery against our ways, my young apprentice." Plagueis stopped and craned his neck to the ceiling. With a sigh, he said: "did you ever hear the legend of Naga Sadow?"

Palpatine shook his head.

And listened.