Disclaimer: This story heavily uses ideas and concepts from the James Luceno book 'Darth Plagueis'. I highly advise you read the book if you want to know, catch on, and understand this fanfic story. Wookiepedia can get you only so far.
I do not own any of the Star Wars and DC characters and ideas represented in this work.
The sun over Al-Qawiyah was rising from its slumber and cast an orange veil over the capital of Bialya. It announced its domain over the earth with its supreme light and radiated blazing heat that would oppress the inhabitants of the North African country.
As the sun was starting to wake up, so was the city. Muezzins made their traditional holy calls to prayers, crying out in recited verses for their fellow Sunnis to enter the Mosques for their daily worship rituals. Their words were carried out by the morning wind and reverberated throughout the city,
Traffic began to form, consisting of mainly third-rate car brands that wouldn't catch the eye of most Westerners. Shopkeepers and vendors opened their doors while women robed in garbs mandated by the Islamic faith and conducted their duties as wives and mothers.
In one of the State government buildings of Bialya, Plagueis as Hego Damask with Mercy Graves, closely by and handpicked executives of Damask Holdings were being escorted by a contingent of Bialyan Royal guardsmen. Dressed in green service uniforms and red berets that seemed to be the style of such Middle Eastern honor guards these days, the soldiers flanked the business group to a large conference room where other businessmen gathered around a long, rounded table.
Taking seats in their designated area of the table, Damask, with his Hungarian and Central European executives as Mercy, stood patiently, still behind him, joined in the proceedings they were here for. They shared the table with other Western representatives of several companies of interest, such as Dukeston Oil, Ace Chemicals, and a few other enterprises that dabbled into the oil market in the oil-rich region.
On the part of the table that was close to a vast window, members and officials of several departments of the Bialyan government were seated as they were the hosts of the conference. There in the middle, at the center of attention, surrounded by her trusted advisers, cronies, and bodyguards, was Zazzala II, Queen of the Kingdom of Bialya. But, she has taken the name of Queen Bee, to publish a fitting title for her role as the matriarch of Bialya.
A woman in her early twenties with a perfect, text-book female body, Queen's Bee's general appearance and exotic beauty were almost throwback-like—an afterimage of a time in a bygone era of Bialya's and the fertile crescent's ancient shared pasts. An eye blink in Earth's history where Pharaoh Kings ruled the land as their subjects worshiped them as gods and where the region gave birth to great empires.
She had a slender figure and no hint of imperfections. Dark-skinned with long raven-colored hair that was pulled back from the ornate diadem sat on her head. Dazzling blue eyes that were rather unique among the swarthy Middle Eastern gene pool. A droopy nose that didn't conspire against her looks. She dons a gray silky mini-skirt dress that reveals her curves, which,if worn by any other lower-middle eastern woman, would have spawned religious consequences. She wore black pants with heels that had more to do with a fashion model outfit than the attire of an Arabian royal.
To finally top it off, she had a golden bracelet wrapped around her right forearm, stinger-shaped earrings hung down from her ears, and a translucent veil in light blue draped around her shoulders, then ended at the back of her knees. All of this added an image of allureness and exotic charm to her dashing looks.
Like a Queen Bee of the same name and role, her power was absolute, and she had her workers do all the tasks she needed and wanted. She rarely talked within the discussion, only letting her ministers converse on her behalf for her interests. Her needs were, therefore, the Hive's needs, not the other way around.
After everyone was seated, the proceedings started.
The nature of these company representatives was to negotiate a contracted deal between them and the Bialyan government with Damask Holdings as a financial mediator. The contract in question was a proposed arrangement of these companies to establish and provide the support of oil fields and refineries within the recently discovered crude oil deposits near the Quraci-Bialyan border. While Bialya had a considerable supply of oil reserves before, the newfound supply of black gold was something not to be scoffed at.
After the discovery, Queen Bee requested the presence of the companies named, including Damask Holdings, for a privileged summit with her so that a deal could be made where all corporations and the country could benefit. With the backing of Hego Damask, the oil fields will be manned and managed by a domestic Bialyan oil company that will be created.
It was proposed that the fledgling company could be overseen by Dukestan Oil and Ace Chemicals to help and train the Bialyan personnel in western approaches of oil extraction and production that will only be efficient enough to undertake the project. Another point was made that a government-owned bank could be made; First Bank of Bialya was the projected name, and it would be used to manage profits that the oilfields would no doubt create. From this, Queen Bee and her Bialya would gain major profits from the oil production while the foreign companies would have a greater share of the new opportunity.
Plagueis was indifferent to the deal.
The Middle East at the moment was in a turbulent time, what with the American war in Iraq and Afghanistan now becoming a quagmire, Israel's withdrawal from Gaza, and fanatical Islamic terrorism becoming the norm. At any moment, the Levant can be engulfed into another Palestine War, and the saber-rattling contest between Saudi Arabia and Iran could perhaps evolve into something more physical. Plagueis had nudged a few smaller events here and there, but largely, the Middle East's ruination is at its own fault.
To Plagueis, profits were of no interest to him under this deal, rather, it was what Queen Bee will do to her side of the accumulating wealth that piqued his interest.
She was an ambitious woman, and he knew that. Since her coronation, the Bialyan matriarch has been adding more and more authority to her rule while bolstering military strength. Eventually, this aggressive bubble will pop, and Plagueis suspects Qurac will be the recipient of such a bubble burst.
Yes, he thought, Quarc would be to Bialya what Kuwait was to Iraq: a country with similar origins and histories yet divided by colonial map-making. Because of their similarities, it would be the perfect casus belli Queen Bee would use to bring both nations under her rule.
Another ethnic and religious induced war in a facet of the world that was teeming with many. Plunging the Middle East into more violence and only encouraging a frenzy.
Sadly, that war on such a scale would prompt the UN and major countries to investigate the cause of such a crisis and might possibly connect Damask Holdings as a culprit, clandestine intermediaries notwithstanding. In such a case, Plagueis would need to go to this deal carefully, less his entire scheme to be undermined and himself caught.
Several hours have passed. Damask has not said anything, only having his executives discuss the arrangement that pertained to Damask Holdings. While in silence, he studied the discussion and found something curious that warranted attention.
Sensing it through the force, he noted how there was a psychic hold on the Bialyan men. As though in some advanced form of a trance, the men acted normally most of the time, but clearly, he could feel a foreign stir of thoughts commanding them and the mental pressure grasping their minds.
Secretively, he traced the snaking invisible tendrils without turning his head while not betraying his alarm. Feeling the coil across the room, he registered that the origins of this strange psychic connection were from Queen Bee. She seemed to be not strained or burdened by such a feat, making it look easy as though it was lifting a finger.
Now, Plagueis was more interested in the whole ordeal.
In the form of dubious rumors, it was said that Queen Bee's beauty was so tantalizing and desirable that men could be enthralled just by looking at her. Mere drones that would go along with her commands, adding legitimacy to her namesake. Plagueis rightly thought the words were just hyperbolic nonsense, but sensing it now, he saw some modicum of truth behind it. Like spider webs, she overlapped and took control of the Bialyan men, and when he came to think about it, most of the foreign businessmen.
Was this the Metagene at work? He theorized. Had she unlocked her meta-gene where she could control the thoughts and actions of beings? No different than how a Jedi or Sith can perform an action? Plagueis did a silent diagnostic on himself, expanding his consciousness to discover whether or not he was under a similar sway.
He was not, though, unsure if she did make an attempt to control him or if her mind powers were somehow weaker than he originally thought. His eyes shifted to his executives and found that most were under her shroud of control. But once his attention reached Mercy, he found no trace of Queen Bee's control.
Was it the Metagene, or was it something that required deeper investigations?
Plagues were so caught up in his inner workings that he was almost caught off guard when the discussion shifted him. "Mister Damask?" A Bialyan man, who was the minister of economics, asked, "Your thoughts on the current arrangement?"
Eyes were placed upon him, including Queen's Bee's studying gaze. Damask concealed his start, realizing that it was Damask Holdings' turn to speak on the final subjects of the deal; he replayed the main points of the talks up until now and gathered a moment to create an appropriate answer. Originally, he would have said yes to the deal, but now, with a new interest involving a metahuman, Plagueis decided to make a gamble, a test to see if Queen Bee is capable of such mind powers.
"At the moment," he said finally, "Damask Holdings finds the current terms of the agreement acceptable." That brought some pleased faces around the table, including the watchful Queen Bee. "However," he halted their expressions, "due to the nature and practices of your majesty's government and laws," he motioned his head to Queen Bee. "I'm afraid Damask Holdings cannot align themselves with such an entity and cannot enter the agreement."
Murmurs broke out around the table. Some were stunned, others in anger. Queen Bee's smile melted away and put a watchful gaze onto Damask. "I sincerely hope you are not dishonoring my Queen for your needy expectations, Mister Damask." The minister said, eyes burning at the secret Sith Lord, taking full umbrage.
Plagueis felt a trickle of anger amongst the men who were under the Queen's control. The moment he challenged her, her frustration was projected onto them, and in turn, they were equally furious and offended by his answer.
"This demands further testing," Plagueis remarked to himself. He raised his hands in a show of appeasement. "Forgive my choice of words," apologetically, Damask called, "I meant no offense to your Majesty and her trusted subjects. What I meant was that there are certain elements that may or may not be in Your Majesty's control, which Damask Holdings and I would like to see put in place before proceeding into an official agreement."
The table stared at Damask, offensive gazes still locking on to him. Then, with a smooth, silky voice, Queen Bee motioned her people to stand down. She looked into Hego and said, "Go on, mister Damask."
The Bialyan representatives' tensed views eased, and Plagueis continued, "While I could bore you with many more precise details on what I worry about, there are specific things that I should at least bring up in concern."
"Such as?" Queen Bee said with some hint of curiosity, mocking or not.
"Firstly," Damask started, "It has come to my attention that Bialya has been procuring massive shipments and stockpiles of military hardware with the conjunction of increasing military personnel recently."
"Are you worried about the right of protecting our people, mister Damask?" One of the Bialyans said with an accusatory tone.
Damask eyed the Bialyan and then went back to look at Queen Bee. "While I personally believe that every nation has a right to defend itself, especially a country in this region in this time of crisis. I fail to understand why a country wants to protect its Sovereignty with bunker busters and weaponry that are intended for offensive means." When none of the Bialyans replied and Queen Bee only gazed out to him, Damask continued, "Secondly, I grow wary in the way your government conducts itself, to put it bluntly, how it shuns away any form of voting rights your citizens should be able to wield as well with any lacking regard of a free press."
Another Bialyan rep talked to Damask from their side of the table, "You're starting to sound like one of those American Zionists who think their way of life is best for everyone."
Damask gave that swarthy Bialyan a meaningful, narrowing gaze. "If you've done your homework, mister Hakeem, you would know that I am not an American nor a Zionist of any sort. Despite my Ashkenazi lineage on the side of my father's family, he had renounced his faith in Judaism in exchange for being able to marry my Catholic mother, to which he would also convert. My devotion to the Jewish faith is immaterial and nonexistent to the discussion."
Not getting a response from the Bilayan, he went on, "Thirdly, I am uncomfortable with your treatment of religious and ethnic minorities within the Bialyan borders. Considering you are a Sunni majority, you could maybe lessen such discrimination."
"This is an outrage!" One of the Bialyan apparently had enough and went up from his seat. "You are asking us to change everything that Bialya stands for so you could feel better for yourself and your Jew business?"
Damask lifted up a smile and shrugged, "If you mean by that, I want you to change your highly chauvinistic, prejudiced military dictatorship to something more civilized than, yes, you're on the right track, Minister Zaidi."
Damask's words brought the table into a barely contained froth. Bialyans look like they want to kill Damask with their bare hands. Somehow, representatives from Ace and Dukestan made malicious glares at Damask. Even his own executives seemed to be in the same position, staring at Damask as if he were crazy. Everyone in the room hated Damask at that moment, with two notable exceptions. One was Queen Bee, who intensified her stare. The second was, oddly enough, Mercy Graves.
Then, a sudden realization came to him. All of those who sat at the table except for Queen Bee and Mercy were males. Plagueis scanned Mercy for any compromises and found nothing.
Could Queen Bee's mind powers only affect men? How inconvenient, he thought.
Queen Bee stood up from her chair, irritation burning her perfect face. "What are you saying, Damask."
"In simplistic terms," Damask said, "Damask Holdings will refuse to participate in the arrangement unless Your Majesty's government can provide and change such elements."
Queen Bee's annoyance vanished and was replaced by an evil grin. She shook her head, "I think you're gonna be in on the deal, mister Damask."
Then, as if his mind was being held by heavy hands, pressure strangled his consciousness and will. This was not a force that was physical, but rather something mental—psychically. Plagueis stood perfectly still, commanding his body not to move a muscle as he went out of it to defend against the intrusion.
Removing his consciousness from his material vessel, in his mind, he could feel an interloper attempting to rein control over his own body, his will. He fought, strengthening his resolve and countering his mental might. The interloper's mission is to take control of him, and he could feel it trying to make him say certain lines of words that pertain to its existence. It wanted him to say, "Of course, my Queen, I will do what you ask."
It wrestled him, trying to make him say it, adding mental pressure to his mind to force him to work it out. It wanted to replace his resolve—his desires—so that it could change his mind to only exist to please her, the Queen.
He strangled the interloping personality, reining it like an unruly beast of the wild. Within the inner conflict, Plagueis sensed that this wasn't a regular physic command that he was assuming it was; it had a chemical component—pheromones.
With Sith techniques, one could task the force to make their bodies control and destroy poisonous invaders, including pheromones, if one were to detect them in the first place. For Plagueis, he found a much more effective and powerful route to that technique. He commanded his midichlorians to create new and improved white blood cells to contain the pheromones that entered his bloodstream. Then he regulated his air intake, ensuring that the air that contained the pheromones from the Queen would be few and could be managed by his adapting immune system.
In all of this time, Damask was under the watch of everyone, who still had a grudgeful look on him, except for Mercy, who noted his straining posture. She brought her head to his ear and whispered, "Mister Damask, are you alright?"
Plagueis, taxed and body fixated on one position, made his absolute best effort to make it seem that he may have had an uncomfortable feeling. Still, he went pale and breathing near to a halt as he locked views with Queen Bee. Finding his lips parched, he licked his lips and, in a controlled breath, he said, "I am fine, Miss Graves." Mercy looked relieved while Queen Bee cocked her head to the side. Damask continued, "I..think it may be the climate finally getting to me."
Queen Bee, astonished, didn't say anything while Damask reconstituted himself to a normal sight. "My sincere apologies, Your Majesty, your weather seemed to get the best of me at the moment. Could you repeat the last thing you said?"
She turned his eyes into slits and made her lips in lines, "I said, mister Damask, that you're going to participate in the deal."
Plagueis felt another bombardment of pheromones hit him like an angry jet stream. But expecting the attack, his body was already prepared for another chemical takeover, he resisted the urge to do her bidding and triumphed. "I'm afraid, Your Majesty, with no harm towards your authority, that I cannot accept the terms of this agreement until my interests and concerns are satisfied and respectfully dealt with."
"You are going to agree to the deal!"
"I'm afraid that isn't going to happen unless my demands are properly met."
Queen Bee, now in overwhelming shock and defeat, sat back down to her seat. Her pheromones ceased their attacks. If she were truly a psychic of some kind, then surely she would have felt that her first attempt at controlling him failed, yet she persisted and expressed that she just now learned her chemical commandments weren't working. That meant to Plagueis that she had no real sense of whether her mind tricks worked or not. Her mind-altering powers reminded Plagueis of the Zeltrons and Falleens, attracting mates, same species or not, with their pheromones making them feel irresistible to other beings.
The pheromones from the Queen shouldn't have impacted him, yet the attack on Plagueis was a formidable one; he couldn't deny its potency. Clearly, it was more dangerous than Plagueis initially expected, but he overcame it regardless and an attempt to take over his will in such a manner will not happen again so quickly or easily.
If she weren't a royal in a country, Plagueis might've taken her to his laboratory to discover the origins and secrets of her abilities; alas, that would encourage an incident if a monarch was suspected of being kidnapped. For now, he only needed to observe and study her from a distance.
After a long and tensed moment of staring at Damask, her befuddlement washed away, and she laughed with certain amusement. "Forgive me, Damask, I think I worked myself over nothing. I can tell we reached an impasse."
Damask inclined his head and accepted the apology, "It seems that way, Your Majesty, and I take in your apology."
"Since this table isn't a good place to fix this problem we have," she said, "Why don't you and I head to my palace, where it's more lively and peaceful than this stuffy room? Surely then we could reach an accord."
Damask was genuinely caught off guard; he hadn't sensed any more pheromone attacks, so this must have been her attempt to lure him in. "To discuss the situation we find ourselves in?" He questioned
"If that is what you wish to talk about…" she said cryptically.
"Ah, I see," Damask said, "Then I happily take in your offer then."
Plagueis sensed that her chemical hold onto the men, say for her own Bialyan representatives, her mind-altering pheromones vanishing like pollen being blown away by the wind. Despite their own wills returning to them, the mind-controlled company executives had no idea that Queen Bee had held sway over their actions; the same was true for Damask's executives.
Queen Bee strudded away from the table and room altogether, being escorted by her armed royal guards. As the members of the table were getting up from their seats, a contingent of guards approached Damask and his group. "We are ordered by our fair majesty to escort you to her personal residence, mister Damask," an Officer of the guards said, then looked at Mercy Graves, then back at Damask, "…Alone."
Damask nodded in acceptance. "I understand; there will be no trouble on my part." He looked back at Mercy, and she nodded. Before they departed, Damask, before anyone was looking, quietly went by Mercy's ear and whispered, "Be vigilant to your surroundings and to the men around you; she is far more dangerous than she may look."
Mercy kept her alarm quiet, only saying, "Of course, Mister Damask," Before he was escorted out of her reach.
Taken by the guards, Hego Damask was put into an imported limousine, which took him out of the government building he had spent hours in and it drove him to the Royal Bialyan Palace. He was let in through the royal guards into the palace; they continued to guide Damask through its corridors, which were decorated with the most exquisite tapestries and furniture of a higher Arabian class and art.
Finally, he was ushered into a wide and exotic bedroom of a Middle Eastern style. It had an open balcony to gaze upon the city, fine rugs, lustrous tapestries, and other arts filling the bedroom that could assuredly appease a royal lifestyle and a large bed that could fit many people onto its silky covers. Before he could just turn around, the guards shut the arch-looking two doors behind him; he heard the distinct locking mechanisms click beyond the threshold, locking the door.
"Belly of the beast," Plagueis thought.
Coming to the conclusion that it would just be him and Queen Bee, as well as sensing her presence in her restroom, Plagueis went further into the room, passing the time by studying the contents that filled it.
Then, a voice on the other side of her room said, "Enjoying the moment, Mister Damask?"
Plagueis rotated to the origins of her voice and saw Queen Bee coming out of a bedroom's bathroom and picking up a tray that had two ornate cups of warm tea. He noted her change in body language, which suggested a seductive appearance. He forced himself to smile, "I am. If you want tea, all you have to do is ask."
Queen Bee offered him a cup, and he took it but had not taken a sip yet. "Just a friendly courtesy gesture." She walked over to a nearby cushioned seat, which was coupled with another empty chair. "Come, sit," she motioned to the empty seat, "It would be a shame to have this seat go cold."
Plagueis does so, still having the cup of tea in his hand. She made a satisfying smile as she drank her tea. Plagueis brought the cup to his nose in order to sniff and detect any poisons that could be in it, but he found no evidence of such hidden toxicants. He sipped the tea, though in small portions.
Queen Bee eagerly watched Plagueis, smiling over some revelation. She sat her cup on a small table and then crossed a leg over another. "Mister Damask…" She said in an accusing tease, "I never thought you were a man who had tastes in the same sex."
A lesser person might've spit their tea out of their mouth if placed in Plagueis' position by hearing her words, but he swallowed his drink and placed it down carefully. Letting an astonished look get to him, "Pardon?"
"You heard me, Damask. I was just as surprised as you are, but it makes sense."
Plagueis tilted his head to the side, "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. In what context have you concluded that I am a homosexual?"
"Considering how you're disinterested in me."
Plagueis lifted a brow. "Do you prefer every man to look at you inappropriately, your highness?"
Queen Bee gestures to her outfit, "Please, Damask, to not show what I was given would be criminal."
"And to be a leader of a Muslim country," Plagueis pointed out, "Is an anomaly in of itself."
The Arabian monarch didn't say anything about his comment and then gave him a tempting look, "Do you find me attractive, Damask?" She said softly.,
"Objectively, yes. Personally, no." Plagueis's bluntness surprised Queen Bee.
"And you thought my point of your sexual alignment was questionable," she said.
Plagueis shrugged, "In a way of speaking, your general beauty can be the same sort of how a sunset or night sky can be beautiful. But sexually? I have no such thoughts about it."
She went out of her chair and bent forward to Plagueis to closely monitor him. She studied his features closely as one would with a fine picture and seemed to be satisfied with the quality. "Such a remarkable display," she commented as she rubbed his chin with her forefinger. "Has anyone told you that you have dashing looks, Hego Damask?"
"Some yes."
"I would hope so, with that face; if you weren't a wealthy man, then you would've been wealthy with the women."
"That's comforting to know," Plagueis said with unaffected words.
She then proceeded to sit on his lap playfully. "Tell me, Hego, are there any women in your life that you hold special to your heart?" She asked.
Plagueis ruminated for a moment, then replied, "No."
"Officially or unofficially?"
"Both."
"Not even a childhood sweetheart?"
"Not remotely."
"Really? It certainly didn't sound like it when you thought about it for a while."
Plagueis looked her up and down. "There may have been one that I might've had interest in."
"Was she as pretty as me?"
"She could've been considered as such."
She played a little with his hair without messing it up, "Now, how such a woman got your attention?"
Plagueis actually thought about it, realizing that the young aspiring assassin struck a bigger feeling in him than he had originally anticipated. "She was…special." He said.
"Oh?" He hummed out, "How so?"
"In more ways than you wouldn't understand."
Queen Bee made a laugh in a conspiratorial fashion. "Ha ha, Mister Damask, a mistress?"
"No, just someone who had more in common with me than anyone could think."
"Then surely you should marry her, no?"
He didn't speak for a moment, "She…isn't with us."
Queen Bee noticed this, "My apologies then."
Plagueis narrowed his eyes, "Is there a reason why I am being interrogated for matters that aren't business?"
"You call this an interrogation?" She said, "This is nothing but a friendly chat."
"A chat that, if I am aware, you originally wanted to discuss an agreement in which we are at opposites. If this show," he gestures to her and her position, "is to solicit an offer for me to accept the deal, then I will be the bearer of bad news, Your Highness, and say that you will need to try better than amateur negotiating tactics."
Taking offense, she went off his lap and paced away. "You are a hard man to bargain with," she admitted under her breath and faced him, crossing her arms. "What do you want?"
"Like I said earlier, when the terms that I described are met, or in the process of being orchestrated, then I will gladly partake in the agreement."
She swung around, giving Plagueis a questioning face. "You know I can't let that happen."
"Why not?"
"What you are asking, Mister Damask, is giving up my rightful power to a bunch of ne'er-do-wells and ignorant nitwits."
"Ah," Plagueis expressed, his voice the sound of quiet revelation. "So you don't have a great view of your very own subjects?"
Queen Bee rolled her eyes out of aversion. "Isn't that the role of monarchs such as myself to guide the hapless population away from their own like-minded sheep decisions?"
"It is a different time, your highness." Plagueis injected. "Gone are the days of Kings, Sultans, and Emperors ruling lands with absolute power. Even monarchs today step aside and let democratic institutions run their countries."
"Monarchs in the West, mister Damask." Queen Bee corrected as if Plagueis didn't know the truth. "Not exactly here in the east." She went back to her chair, reengaged with her own argument. "Tell me, Hego, do you really think that the American efforts to bring Democracy to Iraq and Afghanistan will truly work?" Before Plagueis could answer, she graciously lifted a finger, "You can be honest here, Hego, one aristocrat to another." She teasingly said.
Plagueis waited carefully for a brief moment and then said, "No."
"And why is that?" She curiously pressed.
"Because since the '50s, the US way of establishing democracies has been either bombing less developed countries or covertly supplanting regimes that seemed more like the very ones they were against in the Second World War."
Queen Bee showed a pleased smile at Plagueis' answer. "A very textbook and bit blunt answer." She criticized, "But very much correct. Let me be blunt, too, and say that whatever works in the West will not work here. Do you think that the tribal leaders of Afghanistan would let women vote? Can you really think that Iraqs and Kurds, Sunnis and Shias can live in everlasting harmony after what Huessin did?"
"What is the point you're making, your highness?" Plagueis asked with some curiosity edging in his voice.
"What I am trying to convey is whether the ideals of the West or not are the same here in the so-called "third world". I know my people and the Arab race better than any American politician; the virtues of equality and passive tolerance are Western ideals. The ideals of the Middle East are truthful and honest, we believe in the powerful. The Arab world centers around itself in strong leaders capable of making the hard decisions Westerners and these heroes are afraid of making. They pretend that democracy will work for everyone, even here. That is only a lie they tell themselves so they can smile on television and act like moralists." She leaned closer for emphasis, "You are lying to yourself too if you think democracy will be as successful here and be accepted."
Plagueis took in the monologue he listened to and was quite surprised by the outlook. Yes, the Queen of Bialya was acting on her desires and goals of prospect. However, she had a deeper understanding of things that most monarchs or even leaders wouldn't have, or at least admit to. To hear that another person who not only despises the idea of meaningless equality but has a disdaining opinion on Earth's heroes was uplifting, even refreshing.
Perhaps he should consider supporting Queen Bee's territorial and economic ambitions, which will no doubt breed interstate rivalry and conflict in the future. But he would need to tread carefully and put support at a high level, and an eye-catching troublemaker would surely catch up with him.
"Maybe I am wrong," Plagueis said after he completed his final musings. "I apologize for wrongfully thinking that I could change the way your people have been governing themselves for generations." He gestured to himself, "As a foreigner and within the presence of royalty, I take back my demands of our agreement."
Queen Bee, taken by surprise by the sudden change of mind, went further back into her chair. "So, you will sign the contract?"
Plagueis felt another barrage of pheromones bombard his skin and body, but with his heightened immune system at work, his will and mind were still bound to him. "I'm afraid not, although I wish we could. I believe now that Bialya and the rest of the region could benefit greatly if new oil fields were to be built. Unfortunately, I feel that since your government isn't aligned to the interests of the West or the media, my involvement in the agreement would be…controversial, so to speak. You must understand that."
Highly disappointed and frustrated, Queen Bee let out an exhausted sigh, "Then why are you still here then?! You've been nothing but stubborn and a thorn in my side since you came here!"
Plagueis held up hands to appease. "Certainly, you are not jumping to conclusions." He said. "I may not be able to openly support the deal out of the security of my image, but there might be alternative means."
The tense Bialya Queen eased up after hearing Plagueis' new proposal. "What are you implying?"
"I can get contacts that could provide the role that Damask Holdings couldn't," he explained "Empire Enterprises, though, is the best candidate. They would happily provide the funds for the Bank of Bialya to start operations. With a finder's fee and percentage of the costs, of course."
Queen Bee purses her lips, "I'm not fond of another American company here in my country, Mister Damask."
He shrugged, "Disheartening at first, it may be, but I know Veronica Cale from past experiences and know that she would put personal clients and goals first before any defense contracts she may have with States. And besides, it may be empowering for both of you to work together."
The dubious and cyclical expression of the Queen faded, and a smile grew, with a short snicker following. "A very comedic notion, Damask, but a deal that I might be interested in." She puts her smooth and well-cared-for manicured hand onto her chin for a questioning pose. "Tell me this: what do you get out of it?"
Plagueis made a moment of silence in his thoughts. The buildup of military forces and firm postering to Qurac clearly indicates that Queen Bee has plans for the neighboring country. He predicted that a war between the two states would conclude in a Bailyan victory and lead to occupation. The real question, however, is whether or not Bialya is up to the task of pacifying militant Quracis and if the International community would abide by such a dramatic change.
Perhaps a different alternative would need to come, one that includes the creation of a Greater Bialya state that would satisfy the ambitions of Queen Bee. It also must provide the right conditions to destabilize the region and further Plagueis' future machinations with the hard avoidance of the UN and hero awareness.
Then, it struck him that maybe military action is not required for the dubious integration of Qurac into Bialya. Hypothetically speaking, the Quraci people could be nudged and prodded into the direction of thinking that the current administration, the presidency of Rumaan Harjavti, is a regime of corruption and vile tyranny. Though the man himself wasn't such a one with great infamy, Plagueis has the means to make the public think he is.
This will make the Quraci populace ask, no, beg Queen Bee to annex them, and no other nation would be able to go against it. The free world's priority of "the people's freedom" and "democracy at work" will be nothing but a bullet to the foot in efforts against the referendum.
Not only will he gain an ally to call in a favor, but this will be another social experiment of driving the population away from heroism and giving them the means of their own destiny. Without the need for heroes—new age gods that the public and media seem to enjoy and worship.
"What do I gain from it?" Plagueis asked when he came out of his reverie. "Well, I suppose a simple request, that is, but it might be complicated at the same time."
"And what would that be?" Queen Bee said.
"Let me answer that with a follow-up question: do you have future plans for Qurac?"
Queen Bee made a pensive look, "You would know if you've been paying attention to my speeches about the matter?"
"What you say towards the public is far from the truth, your highness. You and I clearly practiced that today when discussing our opinions that could never be explained to the world." He gestured to himself, "Client confidentiality is an affair I seriously take and wouldn't be here if I didn't."
She still had a face of insecurity but somewhat confessed. "I do have plans for both my country and Qurac," she said after a moment.
"Military or peacefully?"
"I would prefer peacefully unless I want my country to be the next Iraq."
"Will this happen by simply going to Harjavti and telling him that his country is yours?" She didn't say anything. She and Plagueis knew that he resisted her pheromone control, but he wasn't going to surrender his acknowledgment, at least not today. He assumed that her plan to take over Qurac peacefully was just to walk to Harjavti, use her mind powers, and have Qurac and Bialya unite under her rule. A fine job to control the Quraci president and his cabinet, but for the entire country of Qurac? That would be a task that required pacification and compliance, not pheromonal powers.
"Then let me give you an option in that quest of peace integration," he suggested. "While peacefully annexing Qurac would be the preferred route, the hardest part would be to integrate the population into Bialya governance without full-blown resistance."
She argued, "Bialya and Qurac have shared histories and beliefs, mister Damask; they would be foolish not to be my subjects."
"And I know that," He added, "After all, the current-day borders were created by colonial powers that have the right to complain. But the Quracis do, and they might not take kindly to your government, bringing new power over them peacefully through annexation or military action. Convincing Harjavti and his government will be the easiest part, convincing the people might take a generation. Thus, let me help you." He continued, "I have the means to show the Quraci people that Harjavti and the Quraci government are actually enemies of their interests and have no intention to provide for them. They will naturally assume that he and his cronies have no right to govern; therefore, they will come to you instead of you coming to them."
Plagueis' conspiracy seemed to surprise the Arabian royal, not expecting a deal that might be viewed as her gaining more benefits than he would. "And how would you do this?" she cocked her head to the side.
"Like I said, I could afford the means to do so, which I would need to keep to a need-to-know basis."
"That doesn't sound too honest, Damask, and seems more like you're saying that than just guaranteeing it."
"To cover our tracks," he said, "There are things we need to keep to ourselves out of the protection of others. I'm sure you don't tell your people where you store the country's prisoners. Or the possible theories of the sudden disappearance of Iraqi weapons of mass destruction are connected to your country after the American invasion." She worked her jaw out of admittance, and he went on, "Then I can say that whether you put your trust in me or not is irrelevant; what matters is your commitment to your rule and if you are willing to boldly go where others can't."
Silence summoned into the fine, exotic, plush room. Plagueis was under the careful and analytical gaze of Queen Bee. She stood up from her chair. "Alright, Hego, I'll play this game," she lifts up a finger, "In one condition…"
"Ask away."
"You give me one kiss."
Stunned over the request, Plagueis receded his head a bit, "Excuse me?" He asked, astonished.
"I want one simple kiss from one of the world's richest men."
Plagueis hid the suspicion on his face. Pheromones might not be the only way she could control a person. It's possible, then, that she has another ability to do so, through contact with the lips or fluids. He was prepared, though, as midichlorians are still managing his hyper-aggressive immunity, and he has knowledge of anti-poison techniques that could mitigate or cancel out poisons through force.
He begrudgingly went up from his comfortable seat. "May I ask why?"
"Because," she said, "Why wouldn't it? You're handsome, you have a well-mannered but steadfast personality. You have wealth some nations can't think of. And you, of course, resist my…natural beauty. Maybe in a different time, I would've married such a man like yourself." She stepped closer and cupped his jaw in her hand. "Or maybe that could be a reality?"
Plagueis concealed the smirk on his face. He ever so wondered if she would have the opinions of his figure if he were a Muun again. But he let go of that almost comedic thought and gazed into her eyes.
Infantile and almost disgusting physical and sexual attraction wasn't a view Plagueis held kindly on either life. He never married or procreated his life as a Muun, for the work in the Sith nearly made it difficult and saw it as a useless thing. Though he had to do the act himself with Sandra Wu-San for the creation of Cassandra, that was more of a sacrifice in service of his goals than any sensual love. Though minute as it was, feelings for the mother of his child were there, and to Plagueis, that was an annoying confession.
This would be like that, but with less impactful consequences.
"If that is what you want." He said, "Then I won't waste any time."
Plagueis leaned in closer to the dark-skinned Arabian woman. Zazzalla II of Bialya moved her head towards Plagueis, closing her eyes and keeping a hand on his chin. Lips connecting in a warm embrace, Plagueis was on alert for any anomalies that might arise but found nothing, only experiencing the soft touch of the woman's lips before him and the taste of honey from the continued kiss.
The embrace lasted longer than Plagueis was comfortable with. Queen Bee purred with satisfaction as she savored the last moments. Letting go of the kiss, she still had her hand on his face, now observing it with great detail, like how one would survey a fine-crafted statue. "It's unfortunate that one woman you cared for isn't me," she said with mock remorse, "I've certainly killed her to be in her position."
Plagueis responded, "I'm sure you would have."
Notes, I am so sorry about not uploading in a while, in either stories, just been dealing with family problems that has been impacting my life more than I thought, just updated the Luke story and working on the next chapter of vader that's like 2300 words deep now.