Plagueis had decided to take a detour to the Jedi Archives on his way back from Serenno.  It was a shame, he thought, that Palpatine had already left Coruscant by this point. Still, he looked forward to the personal tour of the Jedi Archives he'd been offered.  While there were a number of things he knew he should be prioritizing instead, this had been a truly irresistible opportunity that he didn't want to miss. Tonight, he would stay at his now-empty suite in Kaldani Spires, in anticipation of his trip to the Archives.

Though none of that was explanation for his presence here.  No, he had a very different purpose in mind this time.

He was mere kilometers from the Jedi Temple, which in more normal circumstances might have meant that he had come to view the Temple itself, perhaps to internally gloat about the eventual demise of its occupants.  But there was no view of the Temple here, or indeed any of the sights of Coruscant that any sightseer would have an interest in.

Not when he was several miles beneath the level the Temple resided in.

The Crimson Corridor was pitch black at this time of afternoon.  Which suited Plagueis just fine. He had no trouble navigating the area without light, and knew it would draw less attention to him to do so.  The Force allowed him to sense everything in the Corridor as easily as if the area was bathed in full sunlight.

Easier, actually, since there were things he could sense through the Force that might otherwise pass unseen, such as the miniscule pinpricks of insect, animal, and fungal life residing around him, hiding under discarded boxes or in rubbish heaps, or within the very walls around him.  

But that was not what he was here for.   He turned a corner and finally reached his destination.

This area of the Corridor was occupied by a number of impoverished individuals.  Plagueis counted 53 of them, which seemed to him an inconsequential number. Coruscant had billions of these indigents.

He put that last thought out of his mind.  He knew his purpose here.

Plagueis turned on his penlight, which got an immediate response.

The inhabitants of the area swarmed him instantly, requesting, pleading, or demanding food or credits.

"Hmmm, I have don't have either of those things on me," Plagueis said. "But I do have something else that may interest you."

"And what's that?" a rodian woman in rags  asked.

“Yes, what is it?” a grimy togruta man echoed.  Other voices murmured similar questions. He saw a few aqualish, a bothan, a couple duros, a chagrian, a few gran, and an ithorian, among others.

"Free real estate," Plagueis replied.

After that night, Kaldani Spires had a sudden uptick in tenancy.  The new tenants appeared to especially appreciate the additional features of their homes, which included free furniture, clothing, Holonet, and 24- hour meal-service.  

After Plagueis had explained the conditions of their tenancy (a free lifetime lease and free access to every absurdly lavish service available in Kaldani Spires), he had them all sign their leases.  This went quickly, for the most part, and soon he had reached the last new tenant.

The togruta smiled cheerfully and shook his hand.  "I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you, Mr. Damask."

"Ah, just Hego, please.  And that won't be necessary.  You owe me nothing. Let us just finish the appropriate paperwork, shall we," Plagueis said, settling down into a plush chair at the silvery circular table in the dining room.

"Of course," the togruta man said.  They sat down across from each other  and Plagueis handed him a stack of flimsiplast documents.

As the togruta took a pen to sign them, he remarked, "I wish my sister was here to see this."

"Your sister?" Plagueis asked.

"Yes.  She disappeared years ago, along with her ship the Woebegone and all her crew," he remarked.  "I was only ten."

"Ah.  I see," Plagueis said mildly, though his internal dialogue had filled with a single, continuous shriek.  This was not happening. It couldn't be. The odds of this happening were truly astronomical. Perfectly preserved, an image flashed through his mind of Lah's expression of shock as he stabbed her through her heart on the Woebegone, her brown eyes desperate, her montrals swinging back as she fell forward to the ground.  He noticed then that Eolin had the same brown eyes, though his montral stripes were much more jagged and irregular than Captain Lah's had been.

The togruta frowned, his forehead furrowed in concern. "Are you--alright?"

Plagueis started and placed a hand on his chest in surprise.  "Me? Oh, I'm fine. Perfectly fine. It's just--that's terrible."

"It's alright," Eolin said.  "It was a long time ago. I know she's never coming back.  I know she's dead. I wish I knew what happened to her, but maybe...maybe there are some things we aren't meant to know."

"No," Plagueis said abruptly. "Nothing is unknowable!"  

Eolin gave him a surprised look.

"Er, I mean, there must be some explanation,"  Plagueis said. Get a grip, you utter fool , a voice that sounded very much like himself hissed angrily in his head.   Try not to expose yourself! Then a newer voice, the voice that sounded like a twisted funhouse version of himself, chimed in.   Don’t tell him that! You’ll traumatize him!

At least this made his decision much simpler. "But you're right, it might not be so easy to find." Or to hear.

He talked with Eolin a bit more as they finished the paperwork, though he still felt shaken by the unexpected revelation.

Afterwards, he headed into to the elevator towards his suite, ruminating on the day’s events.  Staring at the curved, polished chrome doors, he felt...uncertain. Uncertain whether he had accomplished his objective. 

Finally, the doors opened and Plagueis entered his suite, glancing at the plants to his left and right.  Then he went to sit on the sofa and called up the holoscreen to access the information on the current revenue for Damask Holdings.

Everything was as expected.  He grimaced. Everything except himself.  Because he knew where that money came from.

It hadn’t worked.  His attempt to manipulate his own emotional state with some miniscule good deed had failed utterly.  Was it because Eolin Lah’s unexpected appearance had unsettled him?

No, that wasn’t it.  He had been surprised by that, still was, in fact.  But the failure was due to his own awareness. It was clear now that his token act of kindness would not allow him to ignore or overlook the enormous cruelty he had built his shadow empire upon.

Damask Holdings, despite being run by a Sith Lord, was a mostly legal enterprise.  Hego ran his business in much the way his late father Caar had, not seeing any reason to deviate from an already working formula.

His investments, to be sure, had a slightly different track.  Hego emphasized investments in biomedical research and pharmaceutical companies whereas his father had emphasized tech.  But he, like his father, frequently voted on the boards of those companies to raise prices on goods, especially common necessities, and decrease the pay of employees. Unlike his father, this specifically had been a motivation for working in what he considered to be a less interesting field.  Though he rarely had opportunity to directly observe the extra suffering caused by his actions, he nevertheless knew it was there, and that fact alone had given him some measure of satisfaction.

While he took great pains to avoid saying anything publicly that might admit to his malicious intent, he had often impressed on Palpatine the value of such actions. A Sith Warrior of old only harmed, for the most part, those they directly cut down, whereas he could achieve suffering on scales such a being could have barely imagined.

Except that now that suffering was eating away at him, too.

He placed his head into his hands. What was he to do?

Sidious sat next to Talzin, across from the two Jedi at the dining table in his apartment.  There was a pot of shuura tea in the middle of the table.

“The tea is excellent,” Mace said.

“Agreed,” said T’raa, daintily slurping at it with two fingers they’d created from their rootstock.

“Thank you,” Sidious said.  He felt a great disappointment at himself.  Though he loathed everything these Jedi stood for, he couldn’t quite bring himself to want to kill either of these two.

And that was a problem.

His desire to destroy the Jedi gave him purpose, and a tangible marker of his ultimate goals.  Certainly he hadn’t planned for it to happen today, or tomorrow, or even ten years down the line.  But to not even feel the desire to ruminate on how he would ultimately bring about their grisly deaths? It sickened him.  

He had thought that perhaps familiarity would help to induce contempt, but asking them inane questions during the trip back to Naboo had, if anything, backfired, and even seemed to have created in him a sort of nauseating fondness for the two.

How was he going to fix this?  

“However, we require more information from you to investigate this matter fully,” Mace said.

Sidious wished there was some way to ask the Jedi about his Dark Side use back on Coruscant, but as of yet he had found no way to subtly prompt Mace to speak of it.  He also wondered how these Jedi had ended up on this case when his attempts at foreseeing the future before meeting with the Jedi had at no point produced this particular pair.   But he couldn't directly ask that question, either.

“I would have thought that you have  everything you need already,” Talzin said.  “Palpatine has told you everything he knows about the situation.”

“Everything he thinks he knows, perhaps,” Mace said.

“What do you mean by that?” Palpatine asked.

“I sense that you will be pivotal to this investigation,” Mace said.  He looked up at Talzin then, too, meeting her gaze. “And you as well.”

Talzin laughed.  “Me? But I know nearly nothing of this matter.  This is the first time I have even been on Naboo.  What do you think?” Talzin asked T’raa.

“Knight Windu can sense shatterpoints,” T’raa said.  “I trust his judgment in this.”

Sidious smiled, exerting effort to make his expression seem vaguely curious, even as he internally generated a large variety of Sith invective.  Now he was certain he knew why these two had ended up supplanting the Jedi he'd seen in his vision.  “A Shutterpoint? What’s that?”

“Shatterpoint,” Mace corrected.

Sidious chuckled.  “Apologies. I’m not familiar with your Jedi terminology.” He leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands on his teacup.  “Please do explain.”

“It’s to do with the Jedi ability of foresight,” Mace said.  

“Do you mean to say that the Jedi possess the ability to predict the future?  So you can look ahead and, oh, see if you’re going to find evidence against Bon Tapalo, for example?” Sidious stirred his tea, then tapped the silver spoon lightly against the edge of his filigreed red and gold cup.

“How useful!” Talzin said.  “So if you foresaw how you solved a problem after much effort, then you could solve it right away without any dead ends.”

“It’s not that simple as either of those things,” Mace said.  “Yoda teaches us that--”

“Yoda? You’ve met Yoda?” Sidious said, modulating his voice to an awed whisper. He placed his spoon back into the teacup and brought up a spoonful of the steaming liquid. “I thought he was just, that is, I didn’t know he was real.”

A corner of Mace’s mouth quirked up.  “You’re not the only one who’s said that.”  

“I can imagine!” Sidious said.  “So what were you saying about, ah, Shinglepoints?”

“Shatterpoints,” Mace corrected again.  “As I was about to say earlier, the future is constantly in flux.  This can make it difficult to know what details to focus on, and we cannot control what the Force chooses to show us.”

 Sidious would quickly lose patience if his foretelling ability had required watching snippets of a future where he was only a passive observer, like someone who was forced to watch only the Holonet shows chosen by someone else.  

“That’s unfortunate,” Sidious said, sipping his tea.

“Perhaps, but my ability to detect shatterpoints allows me to mitigate this disadvantage somewhat.  Because the important details stand in relief to me in a way that’s not clear to others. A Shatterpoint can be a location, an object, or even an event, but more commonly, a person is a Shatterpoint.”

“I’m still not quite sure I understand what a--Shatterpoint is,” Sidious said.

“It’s a point in time along which an event hinges,” Mace replied.

Mace had just repeated what the Sith knew as the standard definition for a shatterpoint, a definition that had always annoyed him.  

“Along?  Apologies, perhaps Jedi use these terms differently than the general public. But wouldn’t that be upon?” Sidious asked.   “I wouldn’t think that a point would possess length with which to move along.”

“A point in time becomes a line across time,” Mace explained.  

Sidious widened his eyes.  “Ooooohhhh, I see.” Now he was doubly annoyed, because this barely-adult Jedi had just explained in less than ten words why he had been the one who was wrong.  Maybe if Plagueis had ever lectured about something besides midichlorians he would know these things.

But more importantly, this complicated matters considerably.  The talent to sense shatterpoints was something above and beyond mere precognition, and there was no way for Sidious to obscure it.

And Mace had just identified both Sidious and Talzin as shatterpoints.

It was in that moment, that Sidious heard a sound, like static, or the crackle of electricity.  He turned to face Talzin, seeing her turn to gaze down at him at the same time, before realizing the sound wasn’t coming from a physical source, but rather from directly inside his head.

Even worse, feelings he had previously dismissed were surfacing as well, and apparently determined to be even more distracting than the internal sound effects they accompanied.  The idea that such feelings might make his marriage to Talzin something other than the complete sham it was intended to be greatly irritated him.

What an inconvenient time to be forming a Force Bond.

Talzin was watching the Jedi closely, though they did not have have her full attention.  

She heard a sound, like dead leaves being crushed underfoot, mixed with the droning of insects.  

She turned towards Sidious, who had turned to face her as well, his expression puzzled, then irritated, but relaxing quickly into a cordial smile.

Talzin knew this last expression to be a mask for the benefit of the Jedi, but she did think it one that made him look particularly handsome.

Of course she knew what was occurring.  She didn’t think the Jedi could detect such a thing directly, but their behavior might cause great suspicion if they didn’t maintain proper control.

She also wasn’t sure how she felt about such a thing.  Despite the steps she had taken to secure this alliance, and regardless of the Sith Apprentice’s attractiveness, she wasn’t sure if she was prepared to have such a connection to him.  

A Force Bond could be incredibly useful, but it also opened one up to the other person in ways that could be...dangerous.  On the other hand, Talzin would not have entered into this situation if she hadn’t been in the habit of courting danger, in this case perhaps quite literally.

Palpatine rested a hand on her hand under the table, slowly brushing his delicate fingers from her wrist to the tips of her pointed fingernails.  

It was quite intriguing, but also exceedingly distracting.  

“We will need a way to get close to King Tapalo to investigate,” Mace said.

Talzin’s attention switched back to the Jedi.  “How can we help?” She moved her hand out from under Sidious’s and grabbed it, holding it firmly.  

Sidious seemed to get her message, though there seemed to be more tension in his frame than before.

“We assume that Ambassador Palpatine will know how we could gain an audience with the King,” T’raa said.

“Yes,” Palpatine said.  “He is very interested in financial opportunities.  If you claimed to be part of some corporation willing to make an offer double the current for Naboo’s plasma, he would almost certainly be willing to hear you out.”

Though Talzin had no idea what the term plasma referred to, she understood the direction of Palpatine’s intent, to have the Jedi convince the King of this planet that they had something valuable to offer in exchange for his own resources.

Naboo was apparently a despotic planet where great power over all aspects of life was bestowed to this single individual, rather than being run through a more distributed system as the Nightsisters were, where anyone could join the political councils and deliberate or vote on decisions.  Not that she cared about Naboo.

Not at all.

Maybe a little.

“Do you know how we could best pull off such a deception?” Mace asked.

“I know he is meeting with a few of the major Mid-Rim companies soon,” Sidious answered. “If you could delay the real delegates, you could take their place.  I can give you his schedule.”

“Excellent,” T’raa said. They smiled with their barklike mouth.  “Yes, that’s a good plan.”

The two Jedi soon finished their tea, making small talk with Palpatine and Talzin and showing no intention of leaving.

Though Palpatine had said nothing of the sort,  she sensed he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the Jedis’ presence.  Possibly he had not yet determined a polite end to their conversation. Naboo seemed to have many rules of that kind.

Fortunately, she wasn’t from Naboo.

Using the information she had gleaned from the holostories she had watched during their trip illustrating marriage conventions from Coruscant, she stood and lifted Palpatine out of his chair and held him horizontally between her arms.  He was quite heavier than he appeared, likely due to muscle hidden beneath his extensive clothing, but still certainly within the means of her physical strength to carry.

His startled expression quickly changed to a jovial smile.  "Oh, there you go again, sweeping me off my feet!" Palpatine said, laughing.

Talzin looked apologetically at the two Jedi.  “We never really got to enjoy our honeymoon. I know it would be unsafe to travel now, as we planned to, but perhaps we could have some--time alone?”

The two Jedi looked at each other, then back to her.  “Of course,” they both said at the same time. They both gave Palpatine and Talzin their thanks and promised to stay in touch.  Then they politely filed out the door.

Talzin and Palpatine waited silently, unmoving, for several minutes.  Eventually, Talzin could no longer sense the presence of the Jedi nearby.

“Finally,” Palpatine breathed.  “I thought they’d never leave.” He made no attempt to escape from her arms, though, and as a result she made no attempt to release him.

Atherion and Dremra appeared in the adjacent living room, Atherion having secured Maul in a harness over her abdomen and holding one one arm around him.  It had taken some convincing to get Palpatine to agree to their presence during this meeting, but Talzin had been very insistent, and eventually he had conceded that they might add some useful perspective.

Dremra crossed her arms. “Jedi seem like pushovers.”

[We should not underestimate them. I sensed great power in both of the Jedi, but especially the human.]  She looked over at Talzin. [But at the moment, I just want to know what you plan to do about the connection forming between you and Palpatine.] Atherion signed while Maul watched her hands with interest. Dremra’s eyes widened.  

[What?] the red zabrak warrior signed back, her expression vaguely horrified.

Talzin shrugged her shoulders.  “There does seem to be a Force Bond forming between us.  That is...obviously an issue the two of us must decide upon.”  A spontaneous Force Bond did not have to be accepted. It could be delayed or quelled by either party, but only established  by mutual agreement. But it was not a decision to make lightly for mere convenience.

“I mean surely you’re going to…” Drema made a snipping gesture with one hand.

“That will be up for discussion, but not in front of you two,” Palpatine said. His eyes narrowed. “Now get lost.”  

He seemed to consider something, his eyes glancing over at Maul.  “That is, thank you for taking care of Maurice. You can leave him here while you take a...well-deserved break.” His tone indicated he did not consider the suggestion optional.

Dremra and Atherion looked over at Talzin.

She sighed.  “Yes, it would be best if we discussed this between ourselves.”  

Dremra signed the responses to Atherion, before both gave her a dubious look.  Talzin turned her gaze down to Sidious.

“Still, as much as I want to catch up with prickly pear, it might be more efficient if we discussed this alone,” Talzin said.

Sidious frowned.  “We have discussed many things efficiently with Maurice present.  It might be best if we are not entirely alone.”

Dremra smiled brightly.  “I agree! Atherion and I should just hang out here too while you work this out!”

“Changed my mind,” he said quickly.  “I’ll concede your point, Talzin, if it means you can  get these two to leave.”

“Would you mind taking prickly pear to get some fresh air?” she asked.  

Dremra gave her a frown of disapproval, but nodded assent and repeated the request to Atherion.

[Are you sure?], Atherion signed, frowning. Talzin nodded.  

[It is as good a time as any to start teaching Maul about trees, I suppose.] Atherion signed.

Dremra and a horizontal Palpatine seemed to engage in a momentary glaring contest.

“Yeah, I know just the place,” Dremra said. “The little guy will love it. Just let us know when you’re done with--him.” Her hard brown eyes gazed towards Sidious before she signed briefly to Atherion.

“Certainly,” Talzin said.

As the two of them filed out the door, Atherion turned to face them and smiled cheerily, looking down at Maul before waving at the two.

Maul noticed and copied her movements, also smiling and saying “trees!” in his tiny voice.

Then, for a brief moment, she made a snipping motion with her fingers before closing the door behind Dremra and herself.

Talzin smiled. Your votes are duly noted.  

However, the final say on this matter would have to be decided between herself and Palpatine.