Master was silent all the way back to the Wabo Estate wall. The immensity of his fury in the Force ate at Maul.
Consequences awaited him for this. He searched for words, but he could find none that might slake his master's anger.
This was one of those times when silence, although it would not help him, was nevertheless the best—and safest—choice.
They left the speeder in a stand of trees and approached the estate wall. Halfway up the wall, sensor cameras stationed at intervals would have revealed them climbing up. Sidious noticed and pointed to the two closest ones. He pointed his finger in an arc, indicating the Force should simply take them up and past them. They summoned the Force and leaped.
Hanging at the top of the wall, they peered over at the scene around the yacht and Sidious growled.
"I could do this myself, apprentice. Except you have studied the engines of this beast and I haven't. These are far enough apart that we need only disable two of them. I will do that and you will complete your mission. And you will do it within the half hour or I will leave you here."
With that, Lord Sidious leaped off the other side of the estate wall and into the compound. The gathering gloom swallowed him in his dark cloak as he made his way toward the loading zone.
The dark side whispered, and then it spoke as Master gathered it around him, to do … what? A most curious sensation in the dark side buzzed in Maul's consciousness, a pulling, a gathering … a sort of spinning, like an arachnid wrapping its prey in layers and layers of silk.
Maul could not see Sidious in the gloom, but he could feel him as he stole behind the nearest droideka, closer and closer, until he emerged into the lit area and took refuge under the yacht. Right behind the destroyer.
It appeared not to see or sense a thing.
Sidious strode up behind it, raised his hands together and made a breaking motion and its red eye sensors went dark. Maul furrowed his forehead in puzzlement as he watched his master stroll the yards to the second droideka and walk up to it. Right in front of it.
How?
When the red eyelights on the next one went dark, Maul, too, leaped down. He darted between the two disabled droidekas, passing Sidious on his way back to the wall, and crouched, waiting for an opportune moment to slip ahead to the hangar side, where all the loading activity was, and steal up the gangplank and to the lower engine compartment. To rig the engines so that they tripped his bomb as they went into hyperspace, escape, and rejoin Sidious at the speeder took him about fifteen minutes.
"I have about twenty minutes, and half an hour after that, I must be at my event," growled his master. "If I am late, you will pay, Lord Maul. You are most fortunate I happened to be here at all."
"Yes, my master." Maul took the engines past top speed, back to downtown Worlport.
His master's rage simmered through an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the whine of overtaxed engines.
Overcome by curiosity, at last Maul said, "If I may ask, Master, how …?"
Sidious turned in his seat. "Remember your specs on the droideka, Lord Maul."
"Yes, my master?"
"The visual components. What are they called?"
Maul recited from memory. "Non-visual composite radiation sensors, my master."
Sidious nodded once, his eyes hidden by his voluminous black cloak. Maul felt rather glad he could not see them. "Exactly. They detect thermal rays and infrared, apprentice, not visible light," he said, and waited.
Maul was supposed to say something, but he knew not what. Dread sent a cold chill down his spine.
He had not done well today.
Sidious growled again, and Maul could feel him grinding his teeth. "Cocoon oneself thickly enough in the dark side, apprentice, and you will emit no heat. Therefore, you can walk directly to the thing, snap the eyestalks with the Force, and render it blind."
Maul lowered his head and concentrated on piloting the speeder. "Yes, my master," he said finally.
"When I bestowed upon you the title of Lord, I cleared you to work alone," his master rumbled. "Therefore, if I can do it … you can do it. Or should be capable." Lord Sidious turned away from him and faced straight ahead.
"The ability to think on one's feet is indispensable for a Sith Lord, don't you agree, Lord Maul?"
"Yes, my master."
Sidious turned to him again. "What do you think your punishment should be for this failure, apprentice?"
Maul swallowed, his throat painfully dry. He had no answer.
His master turned his hood back, undid his obsidian brooch, and shrugged out of his robe. "Drop me a block from the Auberge," he ordered in his lowest vibrato. "I will see you at LiMerge in a few days."
It would not be a meeting Maul would look forward to.
Sereine Lumisol paced back and forth in Palpatine's penthouse suite in her black velvet gown, hair up, anxious as the last rays of sun dipped below the horizon, turning the water from indigo to black on the beach far below. They were due downstairs in less than an hour, and her nominee for this year's Galactic Peace Prize was out there someplace, she knew not where. She had thought to comm him—until she spied his commlink, left behind on his bed.
Instead of making passionate love for an hour and then prepping for the awards banquet, he had flown suddenly into a fit and stormed out of the suite, and, presumably, out of the hotel. And the thing he had picked to quarrel about—!
"If you'll allow me to have other women, 'Reine, you can't possibly love me!" he had snapped. What the—?
They had settled this long ago. At least, she thought they had, and in a way he would want. He was the one who had ruled out any use of the word love in this relationship. So what was he doing throwing that in her face? Especially since, the moment she left on her next six-month work trip, he would be the one who needed to fuck the nearest knothole far sooner than she would.
She sank down on his bed, absently fingering the splendid collar of diamonds and rubies that had arrived with matching earrings an hour ago, on loan, apparently, from the finest jeweler on Ord Mantell. Would he even be back in time to see her in them? And if he wasn't, what excuse would she concoct for the press of holographers and reporters already gathering stories below, eager to tell the Republic how Senator Sheev Palpatine had reacted to losing the galaxy's most prestigious award?
She could tell them he had been taken ill, but no one would believe it. He had to come back, and he had to do it in the next few minutes.
How could he be this stupid? Over an issue they had resolved months ago? He couldn't possibly care about it this much, and if he did, she had misjudged either his feelings or his sanity … or, quite possibly, both.
She got up and paced some more.
Anger drove Lord Sidious down the block and into the lobby, where he dove into the stairwell and stomped several flights rather than encounter any press in his current condition.
It was not a fortuitous night for this to happen. In approximately half an hour he needed to be at his most suave, gracious and charming, and he would need to remain that way for the better part of at least three hours. Yet, every time he thought of this blatant stupidity, fire caught in his breast all over again, and he could not control his thoughts. Every time he put it out of his mind, every time he tried to concentrate on the genteel Senator Palpatine, gracious loser, another image of this afternoon and evening entered his mind and ignited howling rage all over again.
He emerged from the stairwell on the fifth floor and took the lift the rest of the way up, struggling to compose himself. As he entered his room, his mistress, standing at the window, whirled to face him. Her anxious dark eyes took him in from head to toe.
He ignored her and headed straight into the fresher, where he rushed through a quick shower, combed his unruly curls back, and added a little straighten-and-hold product. Thank the Force he had treated his beard that morning.
He swept from the fresher, grabbed clean undergarments, and turned to don his freshly pressed evening suit, which the droid had left hanging on a hook before the mirror. Sereine sat on his bed and watched him, wisely saying nothing. She had insisted on dressing him down a bit for tonight: black velvet in pleats down the front, ending in simple black velvet slacks with a blue cummerbund and polished shoes. A simple coat completed his ensemble, although it did have rather nice embroidery, understated black on black. She had insisted he not wear the traditional Naboo pointed collarpiece with it. A subtle blue pattern showed inside his sleeves when he moved.
He gave himself a once-over in the full-length mirror on the fresher door and made eye contact with her in the mirror. "All right?" he said. She got up and came to him, straightening his back seam. "Perfect," she said, ignoring his still-damp hair. No matter; it would dry in half an hour, anyway.
She fingered her heavy collar. "Thank you for my jewelry," she said with a nod. "I wasn't expecting that."
He turned to her. "I think you've earned it this year. What time is it?"
"We have a few minutes," she said. Then she stepped up to him, laying her palms on his pleated velvet. She looked into his eyes and made a soft, "Hmm?"
Irritating. He scowled at her, and she went to the door and leaned against it, hands behind her back.
He crossed his arms. "What?"
"You know I'd bar this door before I let you go downstairs and do anything that might damage your career tonight."
He heaved an angry sigh. "'Reine, we're going to be late."
"It's all right," she said. "We can be ten minutes late, it won't kill anything. But those furrows between your eyebrows will."
In that moment, Sidious felt like tearing off the velvet and throwing the entire ensemble to the floor and stomping it. The afternoon, his idiot and highly disappointing apprentice, this entire charade and the constant need to act, act, act, suddenly made him want to hurl Force lightning and take down the entire building.
Sereine folded her arms. "Now, I know we had a difficult afternoon, and I apologize for my part in that. But you can ease out of it, Zora. I'll still be here tomorrow. You can be just as angry with me then."
She tried a small smile, and Sidious remembered: She thought all this was about her.
He sighed. "Ederra. This wasn't about you. This was about getting home to Coruscant and choking the life out of an incompetent underling who desperately needs it."
She lowered her chin and raised her eyebrows. "Is that so?" Then she walked forward and laid her hands on his chest again. "That the closest you can come to an apology, then?" Her tone teased him, and she planted a kiss on his jaw. "Zoragarria." Magnificent. "Liluragarria." Dazzling.
She brought her lips next to his ear. "Eder." She had a way of saying that word, halfway between a purr and a growl, and that whisper could stiffen the prick of a dead man.
Lord Sidious slid his arms around her and channeled his anger into a passionate kiss.
"Mé ven merequeté," she said in Naboo. I'm glad to see you. "You look very handsome."
"And you look beautiful. However, I believe we're expected to arrive with our clothes on."
She smiled, let go of him, and walked to the mirror, where she reached for a container of lip paint she had left on a nearby table and applied some. Apparently she had meant to wear the brooch he gave her, before her jewels arrived; it now decorated the base of her updo in back.
"I think you need a little talking point for tonight, since you're obviously not going to win. Although—" she slid a datapad out of a pocket in her gown— "I do have your speech in case you do. What about that Ord Mantell City story from yesterday?"
Sheev was familiar with it. Someone had tipped authorities about a small child slavery ring operating among two housekeeping firms on the other side of the planet. Under the new emancipation law, thirty children had been freed and several people had been arrested.
"Good suggestion," he said. "What do you think?"
"I think you need to retell it gleefully, like a little kid. 'Oh, did you hear about that?' I don't want you to tell it more than three times. Only once to a press agent, innocent, like you really didn't realize a member of the press already knows that story. Then you pick two other people and repeat it with press in earshot."
Sheev thought about it. She was trying to make it seem that not being selected for the Galactic Peace Prize made little difference to him; he was simply delighted at the effects of the legislation that had secured him the nomination. Good tactic.
He tried his line. "Did you hear about the children in Ord Mantell City yesterday?" and summoned a smile to match. "I am so pleased!"
She caught his chin in her hand. "Don't overkill it, Zora Sheev. You don't need to say you're pleased. You smile, and let that beautiful voice do the rest. Got it?"
He kissed her cheek.
She draped her wrap over her arm. "Let's go."
Next: Murder Two.
These Murder stories, Masters of the Game, What Lies Beneath, and Midnight in the Garden are all part of a series about Palpatine. This Palpatine series is merging with the Wife of Deceit stories by Darth Ishtar, and we have a Substack for the shared universe stories called Garden of Deceit. ALWAYS FREE. Look us up!