Domus Publica
 |  |
| This site is for informational and entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. Star Wars and related materials are © Lucasfilm Ltd., which reserves all rights thereto. All original material is © Julius Sykes. Please do not use without permission. |
The First Meeting
“...and, just as you said they would, Augustus,” the Lady Tagge concluded, “they agreed. The plan is a complete
success.”
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine leaned back into his chair, smiling faintly, and gave a soft sigh of satisfaction. “Excellent,
Sanya, excellent. How soon will you be able to arrange for the incorporation?”
The Lady Tagge touched a few keys on her datapad. “My legal department is working on that now,” she said, glancing
through a scandoc to find the datum she wanted. “Ah, here it is. General Counsel will have the scandocs prepared within
the month. Allowing a month for the others to examine them, and another month for revisions....”
She allowed her voice to trail off, knowing that he could make the proper conclusions without her continued input. She
gazed fondly at his face, framed as it was by the back of his chair and the stunning vista of the Coruscant’s setting sun,
seen through the centimeters-thick blaster-proof transparisteel window. The Supreme Chancellor had a habit of
positioning his offices so that a large window was always at his back.
Presently, she became aware that the only noise in the room was the tap, tap, tap of rapid keystrokes, emanating from
somewhere to the Supreme Chancellor’s right. His advisor was typing. The Lady Tagge arched an eyebrow at this; the
advisor, Sate Pestage, had flawless memory – total recall, he called it. If he was typing, it was not to record this meeting:
rather, he was doing something else entirely.
“Mr. Pestage has been keeping track of the lawyers and paralegals involved,” the Supreme Chancellor said lazily.
“Investigating their reliability, you understand. He will have a report for you by the end of the day.”
“Ah,” the Lady Tagge said, slightly uncomfortable with the idea. Then again, Pestage knew many things much more
sensitive and potentially much more compromising than the names and backgrounds of the people working for the
House of Tagge’s chancery. Actually, he was probably the only person who knew the Senator and his plans better than
she did.
“Of course he will be discreet,” he added, looking at her with his eyes half-shut. She resisted the temptation to make a
face; she absolutely hated it when he read her thoughts. It was even more annoying that she didn’t know how he did it.
“You know I don’t like when you do that.”
“It didn’t use to bother you,” he said, absently tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. “After all this time, you
ought to be used to it.”
“It has bothered me since my fifteenth birthday,” she sniffed. “And you know it.”
The Supreme Chancellor shrugged his shoulders languidly, and Sanya, Lady Tagge, wished – not for the first time – that
he were not so much like he was. There was something about him – charisma? – that had drawn her to him her entire
life. To make matters even more frustrating, she knew that whilst he valued her – even trusted her! – that special
attraction she felt for him was not mutual.
“I will arrange for the League’s incorporation to go unnoticed,” he said suddenly, changing the subject as he reached up
to the desk and tapped a key on the datapad resting before him, closing the file. “Will there be anything further?”
“Yes,” she answered, also closing the open files on her datapad. “I have someone I want for you to meet. I think you
might find him useful.”
Palpatine lifted his eyebrows, but said nothing.
“He is an officer,” she continued. “He’s not a Tagge, or an employee – ”
“Admiral Screed provides the necessary – ”
“Oh, no, no,” she added quickly. “I’m not suggesting that you replace Screed. This fellow offers – well, a different view
of things, you might say. Different experiences from Screed’s, you see. He is a captain general in one of the Mid-Rim
Security Forces working with the Company,” she explained. “Fairly well-decorated, I understand, but still a relative
nobody. I thought you might find a more political use for him.”
Palpatine glanced at the adviser, who nodded quickly as a silent answer to whatever question the Supreme Chancellor
had left unasked. “Very well,” he said to the Lady Tagge. “Is he here?”
She nodded. “Yes. In the waiting room outside.” She leaned forward and touched the comlink switch embedded in the
conference table. “Send him in, Mr. Wac.”
The door at the far end of the conference room opened, and in walked a reasonably tall man with jet black hair, combed
neatly away from his face. He wore nondescript khaki clothes, with a stiff, upright collar, joined at the centre of his
chest, and his trousers were of the same color. His hands were clasped behind his back.
The Supreme Chancellor rose and moved to greet him. “Good evening, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you, General...?”
“Trachta,” the man said, his voice smooth and rich and deep, the word carefully pronounced, as though in a deliberate
effort to strip it of any accent or foreign intonation. “Indutiomarus Trachta. Forgive me for not shaking hands,
Excellency. It becomes somewhat difficult with these....”
Trachta raised his hands so that the Supreme Chancellor could see them. They were made of lustrous, black metal, and,
despite being sleek and well-polished, were clearly not as dextrous as organic ones.
A touch of a smile showed on his lips. “An unfortunate accident. The experience left me with an interesting perspective
on native wildlife and assassination attempts.”
Palpatine arched his right eyebrow at this. “The, ah... What was it, Mr. Pestage? The MR150 incident?”
Pestage looked up from his data terminal. “SR388, Excellency.”
“Yes, quite so,” Palpatine said, and returned his attention to Trachta. “You were in command during the incident?”
“Correct, sir,” the Captain General responded, returning his hands to their original position, clasped behind his back.
“And at the incident on Tallon IV. I do not often meet persons with an interest in the matter.”
Palpatine smiled, a peculiar smile that not many people had seen. “Oh, incidents of that sort always hold a certain
interest for me. Her Ladyship – ” he gestured to the Lady Tagge – “tells me that you are available for employment.”
Trachta looked at the Lady Tagge, then back at the Senator. He made no acknowledgement of her; in fact, except for the
hint of a smile, his facial expression had remained completely impassive throughout the entire discussion. “If that is
what Her Ladyship says, then that is correct, Excellency.”
“Excellent,” the Supreme Chancellor said, his eyes flashing ever so briefly with— what was it? It was so swift one could
not say – “General Trachta, I believe I may have an offer for you.”
“I think you’ll find, General, that working with the Supreme Chancellor is extremely interesting,” the Lady Tagge said,
still seated at the conference table.
“Oh, quite interesting, indeed,” the Supreme Chancellor said softly, almost whispering. “My dear General, I have such...
wonderful... things to show you....”
success.”
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine leaned back into his chair, smiling faintly, and gave a soft sigh of satisfaction. “Excellent,
Sanya, excellent. How soon will you be able to arrange for the incorporation?”
The Lady Tagge touched a few keys on her datapad. “My legal department is working on that now,” she said, glancing
through a scandoc to find the datum she wanted. “Ah, here it is. General Counsel will have the scandocs prepared within
the month. Allowing a month for the others to examine them, and another month for revisions....”
She allowed her voice to trail off, knowing that he could make the proper conclusions without her continued input. She
gazed fondly at his face, framed as it was by the back of his chair and the stunning vista of the Coruscant’s setting sun,
seen through the centimeters-thick blaster-proof transparisteel window. The Supreme Chancellor had a habit of
positioning his offices so that a large window was always at his back.
Presently, she became aware that the only noise in the room was the tap, tap, tap of rapid keystrokes, emanating from
somewhere to the Supreme Chancellor’s right. His advisor was typing. The Lady Tagge arched an eyebrow at this; the
advisor, Sate Pestage, had flawless memory – total recall, he called it. If he was typing, it was not to record this meeting:
rather, he was doing something else entirely.
“Mr. Pestage has been keeping track of the lawyers and paralegals involved,” the Supreme Chancellor said lazily.
“Investigating their reliability, you understand. He will have a report for you by the end of the day.”
“Ah,” the Lady Tagge said, slightly uncomfortable with the idea. Then again, Pestage knew many things much more
sensitive and potentially much more compromising than the names and backgrounds of the people working for the
House of Tagge’s chancery. Actually, he was probably the only person who knew the Senator and his plans better than
she did.
“Of course he will be discreet,” he added, looking at her with his eyes half-shut. She resisted the temptation to make a
face; she absolutely hated it when he read her thoughts. It was even more annoying that she didn’t know how he did it.
“You know I don’t like when you do that.”
“It didn’t use to bother you,” he said, absently tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. “After all this time, you
ought to be used to it.”
“It has bothered me since my fifteenth birthday,” she sniffed. “And you know it.”
The Supreme Chancellor shrugged his shoulders languidly, and Sanya, Lady Tagge, wished – not for the first time – that
he were not so much like he was. There was something about him – charisma? – that had drawn her to him her entire
life. To make matters even more frustrating, she knew that whilst he valued her – even trusted her! – that special
attraction she felt for him was not mutual.
“I will arrange for the League’s incorporation to go unnoticed,” he said suddenly, changing the subject as he reached up
to the desk and tapped a key on the datapad resting before him, closing the file. “Will there be anything further?”
“Yes,” she answered, also closing the open files on her datapad. “I have someone I want for you to meet. I think you
might find him useful.”
Palpatine lifted his eyebrows, but said nothing.
“He is an officer,” she continued. “He’s not a Tagge, or an employee – ”
“Admiral Screed provides the necessary – ”
“Oh, no, no,” she added quickly. “I’m not suggesting that you replace Screed. This fellow offers – well, a different view
of things, you might say. Different experiences from Screed’s, you see. He is a captain general in one of the Mid-Rim
Security Forces working with the Company,” she explained. “Fairly well-decorated, I understand, but still a relative
nobody. I thought you might find a more political use for him.”
Palpatine glanced at the adviser, who nodded quickly as a silent answer to whatever question the Supreme Chancellor
had left unasked. “Very well,” he said to the Lady Tagge. “Is he here?”
She nodded. “Yes. In the waiting room outside.” She leaned forward and touched the comlink switch embedded in the
conference table. “Send him in, Mr. Wac.”
The door at the far end of the conference room opened, and in walked a reasonably tall man with jet black hair, combed
neatly away from his face. He wore nondescript khaki clothes, with a stiff, upright collar, joined at the centre of his
chest, and his trousers were of the same color. His hands were clasped behind his back.
The Supreme Chancellor rose and moved to greet him. “Good evening, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you, General...?”
“Trachta,” the man said, his voice smooth and rich and deep, the word carefully pronounced, as though in a deliberate
effort to strip it of any accent or foreign intonation. “Indutiomarus Trachta. Forgive me for not shaking hands,
Excellency. It becomes somewhat difficult with these....”
Trachta raised his hands so that the Supreme Chancellor could see them. They were made of lustrous, black metal, and,
despite being sleek and well-polished, were clearly not as dextrous as organic ones.
A touch of a smile showed on his lips. “An unfortunate accident. The experience left me with an interesting perspective
on native wildlife and assassination attempts.”
Palpatine arched his right eyebrow at this. “The, ah... What was it, Mr. Pestage? The MR150 incident?”
Pestage looked up from his data terminal. “SR388, Excellency.”
“Yes, quite so,” Palpatine said, and returned his attention to Trachta. “You were in command during the incident?”
“Correct, sir,” the Captain General responded, returning his hands to their original position, clasped behind his back.
“And at the incident on Tallon IV. I do not often meet persons with an interest in the matter.”
Palpatine smiled, a peculiar smile that not many people had seen. “Oh, incidents of that sort always hold a certain
interest for me. Her Ladyship – ” he gestured to the Lady Tagge – “tells me that you are available for employment.”
Trachta looked at the Lady Tagge, then back at the Senator. He made no acknowledgement of her; in fact, except for the
hint of a smile, his facial expression had remained completely impassive throughout the entire discussion. “If that is
what Her Ladyship says, then that is correct, Excellency.”
“Excellent,” the Supreme Chancellor said, his eyes flashing ever so briefly with— what was it? It was so swift one could
not say – “General Trachta, I believe I may have an offer for you.”
“I think you’ll find, General, that working with the Supreme Chancellor is extremely interesting,” the Lady Tagge said,
still seated at the conference table.
“Oh, quite interesting, indeed,” the Supreme Chancellor said softly, almost whispering. “My dear General, I have such...
wonderful... things to show you....”
This short story was originally published in late 2004. It was republished on 26 January 2007.