Darth Plagueis

3: WOEBEGONE




Plagueis’s instincts about Bal’demnic were correct. The planet’s rugged beauty was of a sort that appealed to the hedonistic side of human nature and would one day draw the wealthiest of that species to bask in the warm light of its primary, toe its pristine sands, swim in its animated waters, and dine on the toothsome fish that filled its vast oceans. But in those days, humans were still relatively scarce in that part of the Outer Rim, and most visitors to Bal’demnic hailed from Hutt space or the far reaches of the Perlemian Trade Route. And so Captain Ellin Lah was Togruta, and her first mate, a Zabrak named Maa Kaap. The Woebegone’s pilot was a Balosar; her navigator, a Dresselian; and her three crew members Klatooinian, Kaleesh, and an Aqualish, of the Quara race. “Near-humans” all, to use the term favored at that time in the Core, where chauvinism had been raised to an art form. The only nonsentient was a bipedal, multi-appendaged droid called “OneOne-FourDee”, after its model number.

Bal’demnic was but one of their planetary haunts. As often as not they could be spotted on Vestral, Sikkem IV, or Carlix’s Folly. But all were similar in that Captain Lah and her shipmates rarely saw anything more of the planets than what lay within a radius of five kilometers from the principal spaceports, and their contact with indigenes was limited to spaceport functionaries, merchants, information brokers, and those in the pleasure professions.

Theirs was a precarious business, at a time when pirates plied the intersystem trade routes, hyperspace beacons were few and far between, and a lapse in judgment could result in disaster. The cost of fuel was exorbitant, corrupt customs officials had to be bribed, and import–export taxes were subject to change without notice. Delays meant that cargoes of foodstuffs could lose the freshness that made them desirable, or worse yet spoil altogether. Dangers were manifold and the earnings were meager. You had to love the work, or perhaps be on the run—from the law, yourself, or whoever else.

As a consequence of having imbibed too much local grog and gambled away too many hard-earned credits—and perhaps as atonement for so much carousing—concerns about the coming trip had bobbed to the surface of Captain Lah’s mind like an inflated balloon held under water, then released.

“No oversights this run,” she was warning the crew in a gentle way, as they made their way across the landing zone to their waiting ship.

The fact that she had used the same euphemism Blir’ had to minimize the impact of the near catastrophe he had caused made all of them laugh—except the Balosar, who lowered his head in mock shame, his twin antenepalps deepening in color.

“We take your meaning, Captain,” Maa Kaap said. “No inopportune omissions—”

“Ineradicable errors,” the Kaleesh, PePe Rossh, interjected.

“Dumbass mistakes,” Doo Zuto completed, his close-set, inward-curving tusks in need of a thorough scaling.

The captain allowed them a moment of merriment.

“I’m serious,” she said as they approached the Woebegone’s lowered boarding ramp. “I’ll say it again: this ship operates as a democracy. I’m your captain because knowing who’s good at what is just something I have a talent for.” She looked at Blir’. “Do I ever tell you how to pilot?” Then at Semasalli. “Do I ever question your decision about jump points?”

“No, Captain,” the two said, as if by rote.

“So I’m simply speaking as a member of what should be a competent team, and not as a commander.” She blew out her breath in a way that shook her trio of striped head-tails. “Either we turn a profit on this run, or we think about going to the Hutts for another loan.”

Even Wandau, who had had more dealings with various Hutts than anyone else, bemoaned the mere prospect.

“That’s right,” Lah told the tall Klatooinian. “And don’t any of you fool yourself into thinking that we can float an honest loan. Because no bank worth its assets is going to accept the Woebegone as collateral.”

Maa Kaap and Blir’ traded quick glances before the Zabrak said, “Excuse me for saying so, Captain, but you didn’t seem particularly concerned about credits last night—”

“Watch what you say,” Lah told her first mate, barely restraining a smile.

“I thought you were ready to give that young thing the ship,” PePe said, joining the tease.

Lah waved a hand in dismissal. “I was just toying with him.”

“Toy being the operative word,” Maa Kaap said. “Since he was young enough to still play with them.”

The captain planted her hands on her hips. “I can be convincing when I want to be.”

“Oh, that you were,” Zuto said, reigniting a chorus of laughter that accompanied them into the Woebegone’s main cabin space, where 11-4D was waiting.

“Everything in order?” Lah asked the droid.

The droid raised three of its appendages in an approximation of a salute. “Shipshape, Captain.”

“All the cargo is aboard and accounted for?”

“Aboard and accounted for, Captain.”

“You checked the thermo readouts?”

“In each bay, Captain.”

She returned a satisfied nod. “Well, all right then.”

The shipmates split up, each with duties to perform. Blir’ and Semasalli to the cockpit; Zuto, Wandau, and PePe to check that the cargo had been properly stowed; Maa Kaap and 11-4D to seal the ship; and Captain Lah to get clearance from Bal’demnic spaceport control.

Without fanfare the ship left the warm world behind and jumped from cold ether into the netherworld of hyperspace. Lah was still seated at the communications console when Blir’ radioed her from the cockpit.

“We need your input on something.”

“Since when?” she said.

“Seriously.”

She headed forward, and had no sooner ducked into the cockpit than Semasalli indicated a flashing telltale on the ship’s status display suite. A small metal plate below the telltale read: CARGO BAY 4 AMBIENT.

“Too hot or too cold?” Lah asked the Dresselian.

“Too cold.”

Lah flicked her forefinger against the telltale, but it continued to flash. “Funny, that usually works.” She studied Semasalli’s frown. “What do you think?”

He sniffed and ran a hand over a hairless, deeply fissured head that mirrored the appearance of the convoluted brain it contained. “Well, it could be the bay thermostat.”

“Or?”

“Or one of the shipping containers could have opened?”

“By itself?”

“Maybe during the jump,” Blir’ said from the pilot’s chair.

“Okay, so we go check it out.” She glanced from Blir’ to Semasalli and shook her head in ignorance. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Blir’ answered for the two of them. “Remember the Zabrak that Maa was talking to in the cantina?”

“Which cantina?” Lah said; then added: “No, I remember him. He was looking for a lift.”

Semasalli nodded. “He’d been booted from his last freighter. He didn’t say why, but Maa thought he smelled trouble, and said we couldn’t take him aboard.”

Lah followed the clues they were giving her and nodded. “You’re thinking we have a stowaway.”

“Just a thought,” the Dresselian said.

“Which is why you wanted to check with me before going aft.”

“Exactly.”

Lah’s face grew almost as wrinkled as Semasalli’s. “The ship would have told us if anyone had tampered with the anti-intrusion sys.”

“Unless he came in with the cargo?” Blir’ said.

“You mean inside one of the containers?”

Blir’ nodded.

“Then he’d be stiff as an icicle by now.” Lah turned to Semasalli. “Does bay four have a vid feed?”

“On screen,” Semasalli said, swiveling his chair to face the status displays.

Lah put her palms flat on the console and leaned toward the screen while the Dresselian brought up grainy views of the cargo bay. Finally the remote cam found what they were looking for: an opened shipping container, wreathed by clouds of coolant, with its cargo of costly meat-fins already defrosting.

“Spawn of a—” Lah started when the next view of the cargo bay stunned her into slack-jawed silence.

Blir’ blinked repeatedly before asking, “Is that what I think it is?”

Lah swallowed hard and found her voice. “Well, it sure isn’t the Zabrak.”


Plagueis was seated atop one of the smaller shipping containers when the hatch began to cycle. Fully awake since the Woebegone’s jump to hyperspace, he had sat still for the various scans the crew had run, and now lowered the hood of the lightweight and bloodied robe. When the hatch slid to, he found himself confronted by the ship’s Togruta female captain, along with a muscular male Zabrak; a mottled Klatooinian as tall as a normal Muun; an Aqualish of the two-eyed variety; and a scarlet-hued, scaly-skinned Kaleesh, whose face resembled those of the bats Plagueis had consumed on Bal’demnic, and who was emitting an olio of potent pheromones. All five carried blasters, but only the Klatooinian’s was primed for fire and leveled at Plagueis.

“You’re not listed on the shipping manifest, stranger,” Captain Lah said as she stepped into the bay, breath clouds emerging with the words.

Plagueis spread his hands in an innocent gesture. “I confess to being a stowaway, Captain.”

Lah approached guardedly, motioning to the open container a few meters away. “How did you survive in there?”

Plagueis mimicked the wave of her hand. “Those sea creatures make a comfortable bed.”

The Zabrak surged forward, his stippled cranium furrowed in anger. “Those creatures are how we make our living, Muun. And right now they’re not worth a karking credit.”

Plagueis locked eyes with him. “I apologize for spoiling some of your cargo.”

“The coolant,” Lah said more harshly. “How did you survive that?”

“We Muuns have three hearts,” Plagueis said, crossing one leg over the other. “Two of them are under voluntary control, so I was able to keep my blood circulating and my body temperature close to normal.”

Standing by the open container, the Quara said, “Speaking of blood, you’re leaking some.”

Plagueis saw that some of the sea creatures were coated with congealed blood. “The result of an unfortunate accident. But thank you for noticing.”

Lah shifted her gaze from the container to Plagueis. “We have a medical droid. I’ll have it take a look at your injury.”

“That’s very kind of you, Captain.”

“You’re a long way from the Braxant Run,” the Kaleesh said. “And probably the last species we’d expect to find stowing away in a cargo container.”

Plagueis nodded in agreement. “I can well imagine.”

“Kon’meas Spaceport has passenger flights to Bimmisaari,” the Zabrak added. “You couldn’t wait, or you’re out of credits?”

“To be honest, I wished to avoid the common spaceways.”

Lah and the Zabrak traded dubious looks. “Are you a fugitive?” she asked. “Wanted?”

Plagueis shook his head. “I do, however, value my privacy.”

“Well you might,” the Quara said. “But you have to admit—” He motioned to the bloody sea creatures. “—this undermines your credibility some.”

“What brought you to Bal’demnic, Muun?” the Klatooinian asked before Plagueis could speak.

“I’m not at liberty to divulge the nature of my activities.”

“Banking Clan investments,” the Klatooinian said with a sneer. “Or lawyering. That’s all the Muuns do, Captain.”

Lah appraised Plagueis. “Is he right?”

Plagueis shrugged. “Not all of us are bankers or lawyers. No more than all Togrutas are pacifists.”

“Be better for you if you were a financial wizard,” the Zabrak said, “to avoid being jettisoned from our ship.”

Plagueis kept his eyes on Lah. “Captain, I appreciate that you and your crew have many questions about me. But perhaps for the sake of simplicity, the two of us could speak privately for a moment.” When she hesitated, he added: “Strictly in the interest of facilitating an agreement.”

Lah glanced at everyone, then set her jaw and nodded. “I won’t be long,” she told the Zabrak as he was exiting the bay. “But keep us on vid anyway.”

The Zabrak shot Plagueis a gimlet stare as he spoke. “If you are long, we’ll be returning soon enough.”

Plagueis waited until he and Lah were alone. “Thank you, Captain.”

She scowled. “Enough of the polite jabber. Who are you, and why didn’t you leave Bal’demnic aboard whatever craft brought you there?”

Plagueis loosed an elaborate sigh. “Before we go into any of that, suppose we assess the present situation squarely. I’ve stowed away aboard your vessel in the hope of arranging quick passage to Muunilinst.” Speaking in Basic, Plagueis pronounced the word with the second n silent. “Fortunately for both of us, I’m in a position to reward you handsomely for transport—and of course I’ll cover the cost of whatever precious cargo I’ve ruined. You need only quote a reasonable price and the deal can be concluded. I assure you, Captain, that I am a Muun of my word.”

Her eyes narrowed in misgiving. “Leaving aside your identity for the moment—you know, the important things—your onward passage is a matter I’ll have to take up with the crew.”

Plagueis blinked in genuine confusion. “I’m not sure I understand. You are the Woebegone’s captain, are you not?”

“We’re equals aboard this ship,” Lah said. “I don’t make any major decisions without at least hearing everyone out—whether those decisions involve the cargo we transport or where we deliver it. And while you’re trying to make up your mind whether I’m noble or simply foolish, let me add that I don’t care what you think of the arrangement. As you said: it’s the situation.”

Plagueis smiled without showing his teeth. “In that case, Captain, I await the results of the summit.”

Lah relaxed somewhat. “You’re going to have to sit tight in the meantime.”

Plagueis took the conditions in stride. “Take as much time as needed. The closer we get to Ithor, the closer I am to home.”

The words stopped her cold. “How do you know we’re bound for Ithor?”

“The same way I know that your name is Ellin Lah.” Delighting in her confusion, Plagueis said: “I’m not a telepath, Captain Lah. After I selected your ship from among those on the field, I sliced into Bal’demnic’s spaceport network.”

She tilted her head in a mix of interest and unease. “Why the Woebegone, then?”

Plagueis sniffed. “I don’t gamble, Captain, unless I know that the odds of winning are on my side.”

She snorted. “That’s not gambling.”


In the main cabin space, 11-4D had been monitoring the conversation of the crew members since their return from cargo bay 4. The closest thing the Woebegone had to an actual medical specialist, the droid was responsible for the care and health of the crew, and so it had grown accustomed to eavesdropping on conversations whenever and wherever possible. Having created individual profiles based on heartbeat and breathing rates, body temperature and language, facial expression and vocalization, the droid understood that the discovery of a Muun intruder aboard the ship had significantly elevated Maa Kaap’s stress level.

“When have you ever known a Muun to do that?” the Zabrak was saying.

“When have you ever known a Muun, period?” Wandau asked in kind.

“All right, then, when have you ever heard about a Muun doing that?”

Before Maa Kaap or anyone else could respond, the captain entered the cabin space, clearly confounded though doing her best to disguise it. 11-4D noted increased blood flow in her head-tails, which were themselves sensory organs, and a change in her pigmentation—a Togruta response to nervous tension that sometimes prompted involuntary mimetic camouflage.

“So,” Maa Kaap said, coming to his feet.

The crew members listened intently as Captain Lah summarized the short exchange she’d had with the Muun stowaway, who had refused to provide any personal details, not even his name. Nor had he offered explanation for his presence on Bal’demnic, or divulged the reason behind his wanting to depart in haste. Most important, he had revealed nothing about the cause or nature of his injury. Instead he had fixed on arranging a deal for passage to Muunilinst, a world on the distant Braxant Run and corporate headquarters of the InterGalactic Banking Clan.

“What’s your gut telling you about him, Captain?” PePe asked, his pointed ears twitching in curiosity.

Captain Lah glanced back at the corridor that led to cargo bay 4. “He’s as slick as they come and used to getting his way. But either we take him back to Bal’demnic—and put our cargo at risk—or we drop him at our first stop and make him someone else’s problem.”

“Or we just jettison him now,” Wandau said.

Lah shook her head. “We don’t know he didn’t tell someone on Bal’demnic that he was stowing away. And if he did, his disappearance could put us in serious muck.”

“What’s it going be, then?” Maa Kaap pressed.

Lah made her lips a thin line. “I think we should get him off our hands as soon as possible.”

Wandau and Zuto exchanged glances. “You don’t want to even discuss coming up with a price for passage?”

“I’ve never been on the Braxant Run,” Lah said. “Have any of you?”

Heads shook.

“Is he willing to cover the cost of the spoiled cargo?” PePe asked.

“He said he would.”

“Then maybe we take him to Ithor,” the Kaleesh went on. “If he proves to be a cooperative passenger, we could consider taking him all the way to Muunilinst. Certainly wouldn’t hurt to get familiar with that corner of space.”

“I don’t know …” Lah took her lower lip between her teeth.

“I’ll go one step further,” Zuto said, leading with his whiskered snout. “I mean, this Muun could be a jackpot that’s fallen right into our laps. Weren’t you just saying that no bank would ever grant us a loan against the Woebegone? Well, Muunilinst is the bank, and this Muun can provide all the collateral we’ll ever need.”

“Our reward for years of leading clean lives,” PePe added.

Lah regarded the two of them. “Meaning what? We hold him for ransom?”

Zuto drew in his tusks and shrugged. “We don’t have to call it that.”

“Forget it,” Lah said. “We’ve never done that—well, once, maybe—but we’re not about to do it again.”

“I agree,” Maa Kaap said.

Wandau’s head bobbed. “Same.”

PePe withdrew somewhat. “Okay, so I was just thinking out loud.”

“There’s something else,” Maa Kaap said. Raising his big hand, he beckoned to 11-4D. “Tell the captain what you were telling us.”

The droid moved to where the crew members were gathered and swiveled its round head toward Lah. “Captain, I merely pointed out that Muuns are not known to travel unaccompanied without ample reasons for doing so. In fact, most Muuns are reluctant to leave Muunilinst for any purpose other than to transact business negotiations.”

“That’s exactly what I was saying about collateral,” PePe interrupted. “There has to be some financial reason for his being on Bal’demnic—some major deal in the works we might be able to get in on. A construction project, maybe.”

“Let FourDee finish,” Maa Kaap said.

Lah looked at the droid. “Go ahead.”

“It has yet to be determined just what the Muun was involved in. Suppose, however, that the nature of his business is going to impact Bal’demnic in a negative way. Should word spread that the crew of the Woebegone lent their support to the Muun’s illegal departure, then what might become of the ship’s reputation in the Auril sector? You may wish to include the worth of that in your calculations regarding an arrangement for onward passage.”

Maa Kaap folded his arms across his barrel chest. “Is our stowaway going to offer to set each of us up for life, in case our services are no longer wanted in this sector?”

“What about what the Muuns can do to us if we don’t take him,” Zuto said. “They’ve got a reach as long as a galactic arm.”

Wandau laughed without mirth. “What are they going to do—downgrade our portfolios? Freeze our assets? Ruin our credit rating? Our only assets are this ship and our reputation for doing what we say we’re going to do.”

“Mostly,” Maa Kaap said quietly.

PePe slapped his hands on his thighs. “Goes back to what I said about asking for a lot more than what he might see as a fair price. These Banking Clan types hold on to every credit. But we’ve got ourselves a live Muun, and no matter who he is or what he’s pretending to be, I guarantee you he’s worth more than ten years of dealing in meattails and octopods.”

Maa Kaap broke the short silence. “Captain?”

“I’m not swayed by any of this,” she said after a moment. “I want him off our hands.”

A look of puzzlement tugged at Zuto’s features. “You think he’s dangerous?”

PePe ridiculed the idea. “Muuns are cowards, the lot of them. They use credits as weapons.”

Lah took a long breath. “You asked for my gut reaction. That’s what I’m giving you.”

“I’ve an idea,” Maa Kaap said. “A kind of compromise. We drop out of hyperspace and comm the authorities on Bal’demnic. If this Muun’s wanted, for whatever reason, we return him, cargo or no. If not, we decide on a figure for taking him to Ithor, and no farther.” He looked at Lah. “Are you willing to take that deal to him? Captain?”

Lah responded as if her words had just caught up with her thoughts. “All right. That sounds reasonable.” But she remained seated.

“Do you, uh, want backup?” Wandau asked after another long moment had passed.

“No, no,” she said, finally getting to her feet.

I’m the captain, 11-4D could almost hear her remind herself. Focusing its photoreceptors, it observed her right hand move discreetly to the blaster holstered on her hip. And with a flick of her thumb, she primed the weapon for fire.

* * *

“We’re going to have to keep you on ice for a bit longer,” Lah said when she entered the cargo bay. Plagueis hadn’t moved from the container that served as his seat, but his robe was parted and his hands rested on the tops of his knees.

“Does that mean you failed to reach a consensus?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Lah said. “We’ve decided we need to know who you are before we agree to provide you with passage. And since you seem reluctant to tell us, we’re going to check with Bal’demnic.”

Plagueis made his eyes dull with disappointment. “Captain, I’ve told you all you really need to know.”

The Woebegone lurched slightly. “We’re dropping out of hyperspace,” Lah said.

In his mind Plagueis heard Darth Tenebrous say: To we who dwell in the Force, normal life is little more than pretense. Our only actions of significance are those we undertake in service to the dark side.

“I can’t permit this, Captain,” he told her.

Her expression hardened. “I’m afraid you’ll have to.”

He had been aware from the start of the conversation that her blaster was primed, and now her hand reached for it. Sharp canines glinted in her slightly open mouth. Had he truly believed that a deal could be arranged with the Woebegone’s hot-tempered and immature crew members? Their fates had been sealed from the instant Plagueis had glimpsed the ship on the landing field. The possibility of reaching any other conclusion was fictional. From that first moment, all of them had been locked into an inevitable series of events. The Force had brought them together, into conflict. Even Lah must have sensed as much.

Plagueis said: “Don’t, Captain.”

But by then the warning was nothing more than words.