Maul's eyes are huge. "That's a really big ship!"
"Yes, it is," Sheev grumbles.
He scowls as he completes the docking maneuver to affix his shuttle to the side of his Master's enormous chromium-plated cruiser. He hates the Muun's penchant for deep space in-person rendezvous meetings. They make him feel like a criminal spice smuggler, and that's wrong. The men of the Dark Side are not brute thugs, they are architects of the future. Someday soon, they will wield all the legitimate power in the galaxy. But for now, there is nothing that requires a Senator and a high-ranking Republic official to slink around in secrecy.
Hego Damask's bigass cruiser certainly looks the part of a trashy gangster Hutt's ride. His Master lives large and he lives well. He's unapologetic about it, too. But everyone expects the galaxy's foremost financial mogul to be gaudy rich, so Darth Plagueis' lifestyle attracts mostly envy, not criticism. He himself must keep a low profile. He's an elected politician, so he must appear respectable and relatable. His public image is aspirational, but staid. Senator Sheev Palpatine can't look like he's taking bribes. He's supposed to be the lone man with integrity left in the Senate. Hence, he flies a nice, but not too nice, shuttle that impresses no one, but doesn't raise eyebrows.
"It's huge! Absolutely huge!" The boy by his side can't contain his excitement. So far, young Maul seems to be taking his kidnapping in stride. He's treating it like the adventure of a lifetime. The kid seems oblivious to the mortal danger that will accompany his upcoming introduction to Darth Plagueis.
Bringing the boy to his Master is a calculated risk. But on the flight back from Dathomir, Sheev decided that honesty is the best policy in this circumstance. If he can, Sheev will hide Maul out in the open as his Apprentice rather than fake his death and raise him in secret. There's too much risk to the latter strategy. But his wily Muun overlord is plenty savvy. Sheev already knows the most likely outcome of this meeting: he will be punished, and little Maul will be killed. But still, it's worth a try . . .
Nervous for the grilling to come, Sheev tersely instructs, "Remember what I told you. Answer his questions truthfully. Do what he asks."
"Yes, my Lord."
"He is my Master. That makes him a trusted friend," Sheev lies.
"Will I like him?"
"Everyone likes him." It's very irritating, actually.
"So, he's not scary?"
Sheev lies again. "Not at all. You have nothing to fear."
Maul nods like he understands. But the kid also slips his small hand into Sheev's palm and grips it tightly. Is that to comfort himself? Could it be to comfort him? As a Force user, Maul may be sensing his unease. The crosscurrents caused by strong emotions can be difficult to hide. Fear especially sends out strong ripples in the Force.
Suddenly, Sheev is grateful for the boy's small hand in his. He'd never admit it, but he could use a little support. He's about to test the limits of his longtime rocky relationship with his Master.
The airlock is now secure, and the two ships finish equalizing their cabin pressure. Sheev deploys the hatch. There is no ramp to descend. He and Maul simply walk straight into the cruiser.
They step past the two heavily armed Sun Guards who flank the connection between the two ships. The guards are part of a mercenary group with longtime ties to the Sith. Plagueis employs them mostly for show. His Master loves their military pomp. It's unnecessary muscle, however, because the Muun himself is very lethal and the Force-blind Sun Guards would be no match for any attacking Jedi. Sheev puts the Sun Guards in the same category as this ridiculous deep space meeting: it's more superfluous theatrics.
But Maul is impressed. The kid is dazzled by the guards' shiny armor and tough guy ethos. Still, he is firmly on Team Sheev. "You could beat them," the boy whispers loyally to him. "I've seen you fight."
Sheev appreciates the vote of confidence, but the real foe isn't the guards, it's the giant humanoid aristocrat who lounges in stately robes in the main cabin living area of his cruiser. It's a cozy, ultra-luxe domestic scene with the lumpy, aging Twi'lek woman his Master calls wife hovering about dripping in diamonds. She waits on Plagueis hand and foot with a fawning subservience that verges on a fetish. This pair are nothing like him and Cresta.
"Well, well, well . . . " Intergalactic Banking Clan Chairman, the Right Honorable Hego Damask, aka Darth Plagueis, self-styled 'the Wise,' looks Maul over. Then, his eyes flash yellow as they dart towards him. "What have we here?" his Master purrs in a tone that indicates he is anything but pleased.
Sheev gulps, but gamely plunges ahead. There's no turning back now. "Master, may I present Maul? He is the only child of Lilith Talzin, the Mother Witch of the Dathomir Coven. Maul, this is my Master, Darth Plagueis, the reigning Sith Lord on the Dark Side of the Force."
His Master nods regally to acknowledge this introduction. As always, the Muun has impeccable gravitas.
Beside him, his dumpy wife, clueless as ever, smiles at the kid her husband sent him to assassinate.
"Come closer, child," the Muun beckons the boy forward.
Maul looks to him.
"Go on," Sheev encourages.
Maul takes a few steps in the direction of the Muun and then halts. "Hello, my Lord," he pipes up cheerfully. The boy takes a knee in ceremonial submission just like Sheev taught him. But he immediately bounces back up before being given permission to rise. Next, Maul blurts out what matters most in his ten-year-old brain. "Do you have a lightsaber too?" he asks hopefully.
"I do," Plagueis responds in his gravelly baritone.
"Is it red?"
"Yes."
"May I see it?"
Plagueis' feral yellow eyes glitter, and for a second Sheev worries he will produce the requested sword and take the kid's head off with it. But his Master defers an execution . . . for now. He replies an enigmatic and deeply foreboding, "Perhaps."
Darth Plagueis sits forward in his seat. He concentrates a long moment as he assesses Maul carefully. That large Muun forehead wrinkles. His eyes become close slits. The corners of his mouth droop.
Sheev fights the urge to fidget. As it is, he's holding his breath.
Finally, his Master sits back and relaxes. His lips remain tight and his expression is closed, but the Muun begrudgingly commends, "So much strength," in guttural tones.
Sheev's head bobs to immediately agree. "Indeed, Master."
"Darkness rises," Darth Plagueis continues grimly, "and Light to meet it."
Uh oh. "He isn't Light," Sheev hastily objects. "At least, not entirely," he amends. "Show him. Show him what you showed me," he prods Maul.
Obedient as always, the kid conjures green ichor mist and performs the trick he demonstrated on the flight from Dathomir. Out of thin air, he creates a long-stemmed rose. It's an exact replica of a beautiful, just-picked bloom, complete with fresh dewdrops on the petals.
"This is a flower that grows in the forest on my world," Maul happily pipes up. Then, in a spontaneous gesture, he presents the rose to the Muun's wife. She is charmed, naturally.
"That's not a projection," Sheev mutters, "Master, it's a real flower."
"So I see." Plagueis watches his wife coo over Maul.
"He heals as well."
"Like a Jedi?"
"Well, yes. But without the philosophy and dogma," Sheev hurries to assert. "He has nothing to unlearn." This is his strategy-he will intrigue the Muun with Maul's unique possibilities. This kid is one in a billion, and killing him will squander an important opportunity. "Maul has all of their power but none of their animus."
"Perhaps," Darth Plagueis intones, clearly unconvinced. "The Witches of Dathomir have their own allegiance."
"To the Coven," listening Maul offers brightly. He scrutinizes the Muun for himself now. When he's done, the boy volunteers, "You, Sir, are very unbalanced. Even more so than him." Maul jabs a thumb in his direction, and Sheev shifts his stance nervously at the mention of the Jedi concept that he knows will trigger his Master.
Peering at Plagueis with rapt fascination, the artless little witch boy wonders aloud, "Does that hurt? Mother says that when you become badly unbalanced, it hurts you. And then, you will want to hurt others."
The big Muun smirks. "Oh, I assure you, I am quite well. Tell me, what else does Mother say about balance?"
Maul thinks a moment before he answers. The phrases he uses are clearly maxims some Coven elder taught him. "Balance takes effort," the boy recites. "You must learn to self-correct. Do not be tempted to veer to extremes with ichor. To endure, a witch must find balance. That's where the most powerful magic comes from."
"Is that so?" Plagueis raises an eyebrow.
"Yes. I mean, I think it is. I . . . er . . . really don't know . . . But Mother thinks so, and she knows everything about ichor. Everything," eager Maul assures him.
"Of course," the Muun smiles affably. "Your Mother is very knowledgeable."
So far, Darth Plagueis' demeanor towards Maul is welcoming and genial. It's how the famed bon vivant financial wizard always acts towards others. The public expects it and the press eats it up. But watchful Sheev knows it for an act. Hego Damask is as wily as they come. If he's outwardly non-threatening, that's because he never reveals his moves before he makes them.
The Muun bestows another toothy smile on the boy as he casually observes, "You've come a long way from Dathomir."
"Yes, Sir," the obliging kid agrees.
Plagueis gently corrects him. "Yes, Master."
"M-Master," Maul immediately amends.
Satisfied that the pecking order of Sith has been established, the Muun inquires, "Do you miss your home?"
"Not yet. There are too many things here to see and to do. I like the Republic," Maul declares brightly.
"Oh? What do you like about it? Tell us," Plagueis invites.
"I like the spaceships. And hyperspace. The food's good, too."
"Are you hungry, child?"
"No."
"No, Master."
"No, Master." Maul is suitably chastised by his slip. "Er sorry, er Master," he mutters as he bites his lip.
"You look tired. Maul, are you tired?" This time, Plagueis' question is laced with a heavy dose of suggestion in the Force.
"No, Master. Well, maybe a little," the youth concedes. He stifles a sudden yawn.
Watching Sheev senses the subtle application of Force sleep directed towards the trusting kid. It's not unlike the trick that the old Brother witch geezer utilized against the charging rancor in the forest on Dathomir. Again now, a threat is neutralized by slumber, whether it be a wild beast or a kid with too much potential.
Sure enough, young Maul sways on his feet. His eyes grow heavy. His slight shoulders slump.
"Sit down," the Muun waves the boy to the couch. "Rest a little." Sounding like a kindly grandfather, he soothes, "You've had a busy day."
Maul nods, but yet again looks to him for direction. Catching his Master's eye, Sheev dutifully encourages, "Go ahead. Sit down. Do as he says."
The boy now takes the command.
As he sinks down on the couch and his little chin bows forward to his chest, Darth Plagueis prompts, "Maul?"
"Y-Yes?" the fading kid manages.
"I am the Master here." The Muun's eyes momentarily flash feral yellow as he sternly admonishes, "Never forget that."
"Al-right," the sleepy kid sighs. Maul has no guile. He aims to please, and that's easy to see. Looking to him yet again, the ten-year-old softly whines, "Can I get a night-night hug?" It's a sweet request that underscores the truth of how much the boy craves reassurance in the wake of the tumultuous change of the last seventy-two hours.
Exasperated Darth Plagueis rolls his eyes. But the question is good, Sheev decides. It displays how innocent and hapless the young witch kid is. Maul is obviously not a current threat.
"You're far too big for that," Sheev responds gruffly because he knows his Master will approve.
"That's what Mother says," Maul sighs under his breath. "But you're my father now, so I thought I'd ask . . ."
The boy's eyes fall closed as he slumps and curls up in fetal position on the couch. Seconds later, he is sound asleep in the Force, blissfully ignorant of the conversation to come about his fate. The slumbering child is oblivious to the pair of conniving Sith Lords who will now debate whether to kill him or to use him as their latest victim-pawn.
Lady Plagueis will remain ignorant as well. The Muun issues his next command to her. "Leave us, my dear."
She hurries to obey, like usual. "Yes, my Lord." Missus Plagueis retreats with a swish of long skirts and a trailing cloud of heavy perfume.
That leaves Sheev and his Master alone together. Now is when the true negotiations begin. But first, there must be punishment.
"Father?" The Muun's deep voice is scathing. "Father!" he snorts his contempt at the moniker. Then, he fires off his power.
Sheev doesn't even see the first bolt of Force lightning that nails him. It steals the breath from his lungs and fells him to the floor flat on his face.
Darth Plagueis is extremely displeased, like Sheev knew he would be.
Force lightning burns on the inside, not the outside. It scorches nerve synapses and fries your membranes. It rattles your brain and radiates pain up and down your extremities. The agony is intense, but Sheev endures it stoically. He knows better than to resist. Besides, he wishes to appear a faithful Apprentice who brought home Maul as a strategic opportunity, not as an act of disobedience.
The Muun won't kill him. Sheev is certain of that. No matter how pissed Darth Plagueis is, he will live. At this stage of their plot, his Master needs him too much to kill him. But while his punishment is not fatal, it still hurts plenty. Reeling and nauseous, Sheev grits his teeth. He strives to endure the pain stoically.
"You have failed me! You were ordered to kill the kid, not bring him home!" his Master snarls.
More lightning ensures.
Wincing Sheev lays docile and defeated on the floor. He's hoping Darth Plagueis will vent his rage in short order, so they can move on. It's best to get this sort of thing over fast, Sheev knows from experience.
"But his power, Master-" he gasps between breaks in the onslaught.
Darth Plagueis doesn't want to hear it. "His power is the reason you were sent to kill him! That boy is the disturbance we both felt!"
"Yes!" Sheev yelps, attempting to redirect that argument. "If he c-could be turned, he would be a p-powerful a-ally . . ." That's the gist of Sheev's appeal. He leads with it straightaway.
"We do not need allies!"
"We do!" Sheev dares to disagree. It earns him more corporal punishment. But still, he persists. "We need m-more Sith," he contends. "M-Master, if we are s-soon to oversee an Empire, you will need disciples-"
"That boy will never fully be a Sith. Can you not hear the drivel he was raised on coming out of his mouth? Talk of balance? He might as well be Jedi!" the Muun harrumphs.
Plagueis' tone is dismissive, but already Sheev can sense that he is making headway. For the Muun lets up on his punishment. He's listening now as they begin an actual conversation.
From his sprawl on the floor, Sheev contrives to sound as earnest and eager as young Maul does. He moves on to his next argument for why to take the witch kid on as an Apprentice: this boy is more naturally inclined to be Dark than any of the alternative options.
"The Jedi think balance is the reign of the Light," he pants out. Sheev's head is still spinning from the residual pain of the Force lightning, but he keeps talking. The Muun respects grit. Stubbornness is a virtue for a Sith.
"The witches dabble in Darkness. They don't call it such, but I know it when I see it! They think balance is a little Light and a little Darkness, as circumstances merit." At least, that's what Sheev thinks Lilith's Old Ways mean. But the point is this: "Maul was not raised to fear Darkness. Master, he has none of the Jedi dogma to unlearn. He will gladly be your pupil!"
The Muun sniffs back. "The witches ceased to matter many millennia ago. Their fire has gone out of the universe. What few remain are an isolated anachronism. No one cares what they believe."
"Then why are we killing the kid?" Sheev protests.
"Because of his potential," irritated Plagueis grinds out. He raises his long fingered, clawed hands to resume administering punishment.
Quaking Sheev attempts to preempt more zaps. "His potential is why I brought him to you! Here is a new Apprentice for you to groom!"
"He is far too young. Too ignorant as well."
"He is uneducated and unsophisticated in all things but the Force." Sheev keeps talking fast and so far it's working to distract his Master from more retribution. "Force talent cannot be taught, but the rest he can learn."
"It will be years before he could complete the training."
"Is there a rush?"
"No. But I would rather not invest years raising a sleeper agent witch who might someday thwart our plans," his Master hisses. He thunders ominously, "His blood will tell!"
"If he becomes a true risk, we should kill him," Sheev proclaims. He knows he cannot appear too reticent to sacrifice the boy, lest he betray his true motives. "If Maul does not develop as you wish, we kill him. If there is any hint of disloyalty, we kill him. But in the meantime, let's see how things go."
"Why not kill him now?" the Muun presses.
"Because we lose any upside from the boy. Think of all that potential being made to serve you, Master." Determined, Sheev keeps at his wheedling. "We play the long game and see how Maul progresses. If all goes well, by the time the Republic falls, you will have another Apprentice. Think on it! As Emperor, you will need more than me to do your bidding. Darth Vitiate had thousands of Sith Lords at his disposal," Sheev shamelessly namedrops the foremost ancient Sith Lord who he knows his Master wishes to emulate.
The Muun frowns, but prompts, "I'm listening."
Good! Now, for his secondary arguments. Sheev starts strategizing. "The Mother Witch-Master, she wants to keep the status quo-to be left alone. Having her son as hostage will keep her in line."
"What do I care what she thinks?"
"She is very powerful."
"Uhm, yes. I know." The Muun's tall forehead furrows. "How powerful?"
"She could become a threat," Sheev answers. And that's no exaggeration, given what he's seen of Lilith Talzin.
His Master scoffs. "She will never ally with the Jedi. She will never leave Dathomir." He waves his hand impatiently at the very notion. "She is irrelevant."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
The Muun's beady eyes narrow. "Why?"
"This magic she uses-"
"Ichor."
"Yes! It is very mysterious."
Plagueis is unbothered. "The Sith have far surpassed the witches' sorcery skills. Left alone on her backwater world, that woman matters not. But this boy," his Master glares at sleeping Maul,
"who you have brought into our lives and now made a potential player for command of the Force-who you have plucked from obscurity in a betrayal so significant that it caused a disturbance-"
Yikes! Darth Plagueis sure sounds like he is warming up to shoot more Force lightning. Sheev dares to interrupt him. "He is leverage over the Mother! Insurance against her taking sides in the coming war! Master, if the clone inhibitor chip technology doesn't work out, maybe she and Maul can fight the Jedi for us. The witches hate the Jedi, so-"
"They hate the Sith as well. Or did she fool you about that?"
Er . . . maybe. Mostly, Sheev thinks Lilith expertly manipulated him into achieving her aims. She lured him into taking her son off-world in hopes Maul will be trained as a Sith. Lilith regards that to be a big sacrifice on her part which will in the end somehow save the Coven. It tells Sheev that Lilith firmly believes the Sith will soon rule the galaxy. The Mother Witch wants her firstborn son to rise alongside the Sith, to make sure Maul has a seat at the table and a voice in the conversation for future events. No doubt, it's a scheme to protect the Coven from the Jedi invasion she fears. Because siding with Team Sith means supporting the Jedi genocide the Dark Side has long desired.
"Maul is the most talented Apprentice candidate you will ever find," Sheev contends.
"Far more talented than you," Plagueis retorts nastily.
"Perhaps," is all Sheev will concede on that point. Moving on, he argues, "Master, once we slaughter the Jedi, how will we identify new Force users? Think about it! Parents won't be so eager to come forward to identify their children then. If we are to raise a new Sith Empire-if you are to be the next Darth Vitiate-you will need more than me. I cannot do it all. And here is a boy who is ready and willing to be trained."
Stroking his Master's ego with the references to Vitiate seems to be working. Finally, the Muun appears to be seriously considering the issue. Darth Plagueis is nothing if not scrupulously rational. Never does he make decisions motivated by emotion. But he will be hard to persuade, especially given his clear fear of Maul.
"Even if the boy might be useful, I do not have time to rear him. It will be years before he will be an age to teach."
"Then delegate him to me, Master. I will gladly undertake his initial instruction."
"Ah, yes, since you are his new father," Plagueis sneers back thick sarcasm. "I would not have taken you for a man given to that sort of sentiment. You like him, admit it!"
"Yes," Sheev confesses. "But I like what he might do for us more. Master, that disturbance you-er, we-felt was the impact of the boy joining our side! Yoda is probably in some temple deep in concentration now attempting to discern its cause," he snickers. "Darkness is rising! You know the Jedi sense it! The Force itself heralds your coming as the new Sith Emperor," he sucks up.
Normally, the Muun eats up such grandiosity. But this time, his Master crosses his arms and looks down his nose at him. He will not be fooled by flattery.
"Do you think me a fool to put you in charge of that kid? That very dangerous kid?"
Er, yes. That's the plan. But Sheev is quick to grovel. "Master, you know how I wish to help you—how much I revere you-"
"Shut up, Sheev!" Plagueis waves him silent, and Sheev realizes that he has gone too far with his insincerity. Lies always sing out to a Dark Lord.
The Muun calls him out. "Do not dare seek to deceive me! It will never succeed. I sense how much you hate me! I know how keenly you wish to kill me!"
Well, fuck. His bullshitting has raised his Master's suspicions. And now, it's time for plain talk. Sheev meets the Muun's eyes for a long, tense moment before he replies carefully.
"You'd be disappointed, if I didn't try to kill you. The role of the Apprentice is to crave power." It's a maxim of the Dark Side that Darth Plagueis himself taught him.
Sore, achy Sheev now drags himself off the floor. Because if he's going to speak truth to power, he's going to do it standing on his feet. But there will be consequences. There always are. Sheev girds himself-physically and mentally-for more abuse.
His uber confident Master takes measure of him coolly before he purrs out an indictment. "You," Plagueis snarls, "think that you and this witch boy together will someday manage to slay me . . ."
"If we do, we will have earned it," Sheev answers the accusation honestly. He's sticking to his strategy of being open about his moves. "It is the way of things: the strongest must rule."
"True. But you will never be the strongest. That child will far outpace you. He will be your Master," the gloating Muun observes with relish. "If you ever manage to dethrone me, you will serve him. You will succeed only to lose again."
Sheev gulps because this surely is the outcome that Lilith Talzin hopes for. Between the bitch witch of Dathomir and his trolling hater Master, Sheev will have his work cut out for him if he is to fulfill his destiny to ascend the Dark throne.
Darth Plagueis grins wickedly as he continues to jeer. "You, Sheev Palpatine, will be the forever Apprentice."
The forever Apprentice. This is the future his Master has long envisioned for him-that Sheev will serve him all the days of his life. He will remain a gloried slave. Powerful, yet hamstrung all the same. It's the bleak existence that has Sheev ready to take major risks. But he has faith now that those risks will eventually pay off, since the Force revealed him to be a future Emperor in that cave on Dathomir.
So, indignant Sheev dares to level some criticism of his own. "Your overconfidence is your weakness," he announces, lifting his chin.
His Master finds this comment to be amusing. He throws back his giant head and cackles heartily. Then, he shrugs and ripostes. "Your faith in that kid is yours."
"Your fear of that boy gives me faith!" sweating Sheev hurls back. But fuck. Just . . . fuck. He is thoroughly triggered by the easy unmasking of his plot. It's not surprising that the Muun saw through him, but it is dispiriting.
Plagueis must perceive how deflated he is. His Master presses his advantage with wicked glee. "Shall I kill him now?" he taunts. "So you can watch your dream of supplanting me die before your eyes?"
How Sheev yearns to wipe the smug grin off the Muun's face with his lightsaber.
"Well?"
"You're immortal," Sheev now repeats his Master's ridiculous boast that he highly doubts but isn't completely sure about. It's a topic they rarely discuss. But Sheev goes there now. It's the only move he has left.
Staring his Master down as if Sheev were the taller of their pair, he demands, "What do you have to fear from Maul? From me? From anyone?"
Plagueis brushes off the question. "I want no complications. Already the Sith have waited too long to retake the galaxy."
"So you're not immortal . . ." Sheev insinuates.
The Muun's blue eyes flash feral yellow as he threatens back, "You certainly are not."
Sheev shivers as he senses the ripple of true danger in the Force that accompanies these words. But his Master won't kill him. Sheev is absolutely sure of it. He and the Muun have long operated successfully despite their bitter reciprocal disdain for each other. So, Sheev keeps up his needling. "I'm not afraid of Maul. Why are you afraid of Maul? Why won't you let me train him to help us? If you are as powerful as you say . . . if you are as wise as you claim . . . then why are you threatened?"
He's hoping to trap the Muun in his own lie. To manipulate him with his own posturing. To force him to accept Maul as an Apprentice or risk disavowing his bluff about immortality.
Alert to the subtle shift in dynamics that has occurred-the devious Muun is on defense now-Sheev keeps arguing. "If the Chosen One prophecy is real-and that's a big if!-then he who controls the Chosen One controls the Force. If that boy is destiny incarnate," Sheev points a finger at the sleeping child, "then let's take destiny and shape it for our own ends! Master, your grand plan is full of daring! How is Maul an unacceptable risk by comparison?" Sheev puffs out his chest. "I'm Sith enough for it. Are you?"
He just de facto called Darth Plagueis a pussy. Sheev holds his breath for the response.
Is he about to get blasted with more Force lightning? No. Darth Plagueis replies with words. But when he replies, Darth Plagueis is at his most menacing. For when the Muun is deadly serious, he becomes quiet. Normally, he's the biggest personality in the room, a backslapping celebrity with an infectious laugh and a voice that carries. But now, his words are an intense whisper that sends a chill down Sheev's spine.
"I cannot be betrayed. I cannot be beaten. I see your mind, Apprentice. I see your intent. But I do not fear you. Nor do I fear the boy."
Looming large even though he's still seated, Darth Plagueis coldly vows, "You, Sheev Palpatine, will be the forever Apprentice. You are my tool, and ever shall remain so. In return, you will live a life of significance, as a legendary Sith, second only to me. It's a fair deal. One many would gladly accept. Perhaps," Plagueis hints coyly, "even this boy . . . How easily he could supersede you . . ." His Master now snorts a brittle laugh at his expense. "Be careful, Sheev, what you wish for . . . "
"You're not immortal. I've seen you bleed!"
"Ah, yes! But have you seen me die?"
"Not yet," Sheev grunts.
"Not ever," the Muun corrects him. He starts posturing hard now. "Apprentice, if one day you ever believe me to be dead, you will have deceived yourself. I will be alive and well . . . out there somewhere . . . watching you . . . waiting for you to fail . . . or maybe, waiting for you to succeed . . . all so I can swoop in and steal everything from you . . . "
Sheev gulps hard, but refuses to back down. "Prove it! Prove your supremacy! Let the boy live!"
Darth Plagueis keeps up his efforts to demoralize him. To psych him out. To make him fear. To stoke doubt. "Watch your back, Sheev, for you cannot win. You will be my puppet all along. An upstart Apprentice masquerading as a Master. A pretender. A poseur. A mere placeholder in history."
"I have foreseen it!" Sheev chokes out. He sounds shrill, but he doesn't care.
"I too foresee the future," the Muun responds, "and I have far more experience at it than you do. I have seen what you will one day become . . . "
Unnerved by memories of the monstrous version of his future self that he saw in the cave on Dathomir, Sheev stands there seething with rage but undone by dread. He wants so badly to kill his Master. It's for himself, for Cresta, and for their abandoned kid who was raised an anonymous Jedi. It's for years of late nights and long hours spent in furtherance of the plot that will place the wretched Muun upon the throne to public acclaim and lasting Dark glory. It's not fair—that should be him! But it's not supposed to be fair, Sheev concedes. There is no such thing as sweat equity on the Dark Side. For as every Sith knows, power matters, not justice.
Power is the problem, but it's also the solution. And so, aggrieved Sheev lets the hate flow through him as he positively yearns to destroy his mentor. Blue sparks crackle as static emitting from his fingertips. Sheev keeps his hands down by his sides. He's unwilling to start a violent attack he knows he cannot win.
But oh, how he hates! For decades, he has trained to channel strong emotion into power. It's a reflexive exercise now, almost involuntary from its ease. The rage courses through his veins, visceral power held back just barely. It would be so easy to give in . . . Sheev is tempted, so very tempted, to give vent to his surging fury.
Far from being upset by this circumstance, Darth Plagueis looks on approvingly. A normal person might find this to be bizarre, but the Master-Apprentice dynamic is complicated. For a thousand generations since the rule of two began, Sith Masters have willingly groomed their own assassins. Only the strong survive, and the stronger the Sith Master, the stronger the Apprentice he rears. For the Apprentice must be better in order to supplant his Master. Excellence begets excellence in this regard.
Truthfully, Sheev admires the Muun almost as much as he hates him. For his part, Darth Plagueis enjoys teaching more so than punishment. The Muun is a control freak, not a sadist. His Master wants to see him succeed . . . just not enough to supplant him.
Their decades old relationship has long been fraught with confusing contradictions. These days, it is increasingly competitive. Sheev has matured past his youthful deference. More and more, he pushes for them to interact as peers. For him and Plagueis to collaborate as they conspire to achieve their mutual goals. But power is a Sith's foremost concern, and that makes the concept of a Master and Apprentice interacting as equal partners hard for the Muun to swallow. Plagueis compromises by granting him wide latitude, but he pulls rank now and then just to assert dominance.
Given all that context, Sheev is only mildly surprised when Darth Plagueis interrupts their tense verbal standoff to commend him. Like an actor onscreen breaking the third wall, the Muun cracks a proud 'atta boy' smile. "Nice try," he smirks. "But, all in all, this scheme of yours was well played. Sheev, you still have a long way to go to master manipulation, but keep working at it. The power to compel has its uses. But the ability to persuade is superior. The best Sith Lords," his Master confides, "are subtle and sly."
Unsure where this is leading, Sheev too stands down. He reverts to student mode. "Yes, Master," he dutifully nods.
"To be clear," Plagueis harrumphs, "I am completely unpersuaded in the matter of Maul. He could be a ticking thermal detonator who years from now will explode in our faces. But, for the meantime, he appears harmless. So, we shall use him for our purposes."
Wait-what? Did Sheev hear right? He squints in confusion.
And now-perhaps to save face?-Darth Plagueis announces with great magnanimity and much condescension, "For the time being, you may keep the kid. It will mature you to take on the management of an Apprentice. Once you yourself rear a student, I suspect you will come to better understand my perspective."
Is Plagueis trying to make teaching Maul some kind of bonding moment? Could this be some form of training? Sheev nods like he comprehends, but all that really matters is that he just won. Inside, he is elated.
"Let us see how you enjoy the responsibility of shaping the future," the Muun drawls.
Sheev is enormously relieved. He commits enthusiastically, "I will do my best, Master."
"For over a thousand generations, the Sith brotherhood has survived because we pass on what we have learned." With a wry look, Darth Plagueis chides, "You may find that teaching is harder than it looks."
Sheev bows his head low and sucks up. "By the grace of your training and from your good example, I will not fail."
The Muun grunts. Then he wags a spindly finger at him in warning. "Do not allow that boy to become a distraction or a complication. The moment he stumbles or balks, I will order you to kill him."
"A wise choice," Sheev plays along. A win for today is a win. He will worry about the future tomorrow. For now at least, Maul lives. That keeps his own hopes of one day killing his Master alive.
"Do not become too attached to the boy. If he develops like I suspect, he won't live long enough to begin the training."
"Yes, Master."
"I do not fear him any more than I fear you, Sheev. Immortality insulates me from the rule of two."
Whatever. That's complete bullshit in Sheev's mind. But he play acts more groveling deference to take the win on Maul. "Yes, Master."
"Now then," the big Muun abruptly switches topics, "tell me about the Mother Witch."
Sheev doesn't hold back. "She's ugly." Very ugly once her ichor-projected disguise was removed. "Old and creepy."
"You still seduced her?" Plagueis is bemused at the thought.
"Her power was beguiling," Sheev admits.
"And?" Darth Plagueis looks to him expectantly.
Is he supposed to rate her? As a sex partner, Mother Talzin gets the 'one star, do not recommend' endorsement. Sheev grumbles, "I've had better. Much better. She's not worth the trip to Dathomir."
That last comment is very intentional. For so many reasons, Sheev wants to discourage his Master from ever venturing to meet Lilith Talzin.
The Muun sniffs back disdainfully, "As if I would ever take your leavings." And now, the man-to-man locker room talk concludes. Plagueis wants to know, "How will she feel about you kidnapping her boy?"
Sheev shrugs. "Better than she would about me killing him."
"Indeed." The Muun chuckles.
"The witches are a matrilineal society. They don't value men. I'm sure when the Mother Witch births a girl child, you'll be hearing her bragging even harder in the Force," Sheev predicts. "If the witches ever produce the messiah the Jedi are expecting, it will be a woman."
With a glance over at sleeping Maul, Darth Plagueis withholds his opinion. Looking thoughtful, with his lips pursed, he equivocates, "We shall see . . ."