Bossk pushed the other council member aside, knocking him against the smaller figure of Zuckuss. The Trandoshan stepped up to the crescent-shaped table, directly in front of Boba Fett. One clawed hand grasped the goblet by its stem. "To your health." Bossk drained the contents, then threw the goblet against the wall behind; it clanged like a bell, then rolled clattering across the hard stone tiles of the floor. "However long it lasts."
"I suppose"-Fett returned the other's gaze- "it'll last long enough."
Dark wine seeped around Bossk's fangs as he leaned toward Fett. "You might fool the others," he whispered,
"but you're not fooling me. I don't know what your game is-but I don't worry about you knowing mine." His voice dropped lower and more guttural as he brought his snout almost against the visor of Fett's helmet. "I'll be a brother to you, all right. And I know how, believe me. I had brothers when I was spawned. And you know what?"
Bossk's breath smelled of wine and blood. "I ate them."
He turned and strode away, toward the council chamber's doors. One of Bossk's clawed feet connected with the empty goblet he had thrown, sending it skittering against the wall like a tiny droid whose circuits had been scooped out. The other bounty hunter, Zuckuss, glanced around at the watching faces, then ran after Bossk.
Sitting next to Boba Fett, Cradossk heaved a sigh.
"Don't judge us too harshly, my friend." Cradossk took the flagon from the tray being held near him and refilled his own goblet. He knocked that back and filled it again.
"Sometimes our get-togethers go a little better than this... ."
"And to the glory of the Empire."
"Well spoken, as always." Emperor Palpatine swiveled his throne toward another section of the immense room.
"Whatever else might be said of him, you must agree that the prince has a way with words. Don't you think so, Vader?"
Xizor turned toward the hologram of the dark-caped figure-an intimidatingly life-sized image, transmitted from the Devastator, Lord Vader's personal flagship.
Don't try it on this one, Xizor warned himself. He had witnessed too many examples of what happened to those whose words caused the Dark Lord of the Sith to lose patience. The Emperor might be keeping him on a short leash. But one long enough, thought Xizor, to reach my throat.
"Your judgment, my lord, exceeds mine." Vader kept his own words as diplomatically inscrutable as the mask that concealed his face. "You know best where to place your trust."
"Sometimes, Vader, I think you'd prefer it if I trusted no one but you." The Emperor put his fingertips together. Behind him, framed in the towering windows of the throne room, the curved arms of the galaxy extended, like shoals of gems in an ink-black sea. Below the stars, the towers and massive shapes of Imperial City rolled like the crests of a frozen sea across the hidden surface of Coruscant, a monument in durasteel to both the ambition and the grasp of Palpatine. "I see into so many creatures' hearts, and all I find there is fear. Which is as it should be." The deep-set eyes contemplated the empty cage formed by his hands, as though envisioning the worlds bound by the Empire's power. "But when I look into yours, Vader, I see ... something else." Like a hooded mendicant rather than the ruler of worlds, Emperor Palpatine peered through the angles of his fingers.
"Something almost like ... desire."
Prince Xizor managed to keep his own smile from showing. Desire among the Falleen, his species, meant only one thing. His cruel beauty, the sharply chiseled planes of his face, and his regal bearing, combined with a pheromone-rich musk that evaded all conscious senses, were what put a female of any world under his command.
Humanoid female, of a type pleasing to his own sense of aesthetics; if the members of the more repulsive of the galaxy's species were similarly affected, that was not something he had yet felt the need to put to the test.
"It is only the desire to serve you," said Lord Vader. "And the Empire."
"Of course; what else could it be?" Palpatine smiled indulgently, an effect no less intimidating than any other expression that moved across his age-creased face. "But I am surrounded by those who wish to serve me.
Xizor, for one-" The Emperor's hand gestured toward him.
"He says all the same things as you do. If you are closer to what's left of my heart, Vader, if for the moment I place more trust in you than I do in others, it's because of something beyond words."
"Actions," said Xizor with cold hauteur, "indicate more than words. Judge my loyalty by what I achieve for the Empire."
"And what is that?" Vader's image turned the force of his penetrating gaze upon Xizor. "You scurry about on your mysterious, self-appointed errands, your rounds of those whose devotion to our cause is somewhat less than ideal. Fear motivates many creatures, but there are still those who believe their meager cunning can line their pockets. Criminals, conspirators, thieves, and builders of their own little empires-you know too many of those types, Xizor. I sometimes wonder what their attraction is for you."
Standing against Vader-even in this insubstantial form-was like facing radiation hard enough to strip flesh from bone. Not for the first time Xizor felt an invisible hand settle around his throat. His own willpower kept the breath sliding in and out of his lungs. But if Vader were to unleash his complete wrath, the force of will might not be enough. Xizor had seen others, the highest-ranking officers in the Empire's forces, clutching their throats and gasping for air, writhing like a Dantooinian garfish caught on a barbed trawling line. Perhaps wisely, Vader tended to avoid such displays in front of the Emperor; why tempt the old man into showing how much greater was his own mastery of the Force that penetrated and bound the galaxy together?
"There is no attraction for me, Lord Vader." As always before, he wondered just how much Vader knew. How much he might suspect, and how much he could prove.
Vader's disdain for the galaxy's less reputable schemers and thugs was well known; he dealt with such as bounty hunters only on rare occasions. Which is to my benefit, thought Xizor. For Vader and the Imperial high command, criminals and mercenaries were all vermin that would be swept away, and soon if their latest plans went as expected. So that kind is left to me-he had built his own shadow empire, that of the Black Sun, out of exactly such rejected dregs. If the Emperor and Vader didn't want to dirty their hands, then he had no such tender scruples.
"I do what I must," said Xizor, not untruthfully. The fact that he was still standing here, in Emperor Palpatine's private sanctuary, and not cut down by the Emperor's or Vader's swift wrath, indicated that Black Sun still operated in the eclipse of its secrecy, for now, thought Xizor. He turned toward the Emperor. "This sacrifice," he lied, "I also make on your behalf. Judge as well, those who think it beneath them."
"Excellent." The Emperor displayed a cold smile. "If you had no other value to me, Xizor, I would still require your presence, just for the ... stimulating effect you have on Lord Vader."
He already hates my entrails, thought Xizor as he glanced over at the black-robed figure. Nothing had been lost in this exchange.
"But you still haven't answered my questions." The Emperor leaned forward, his sharp gaze fastening on Xizor. "I summoned you here for a reason. Let us set aside, for the time being, all this fractious comparison between your loyalty and that of Lord Vader. You say you have been busy on my behalf... ."
"On yours, my lord, and the Empire's."
"One and the same thing, Xizor. As all the worlds shall soon know." The Emperor settled back in the throne.
"Very well. Your doings are not something which you have discussed with either Lord Vader or myself. Either you have shown commendable initiative-or foolhardy rashness."
Any trace of amusement had drained out of the Emperor's voice. "Now is your chance to convince me that the former is the case."
He had known that this time would come. It was one thing to go out and set one's schemes in motion-that was the easy part-but it was another to come back here and defend those schemes when one's life or death depended upon eloquence. And, thought Xizor, lying eloquence, at that.
"As great as your empire is, my lord, it is still at peril." The combined gaze of Vader and the Emperor made him feel as transparent as glass, as though their mastery over the Force enabled them to look straight into the essence he kept so carefully shielded. "Great are your powers, but they are still not enough to achieve all that you want."
"You say nothing new." Contempt showed in the Emperor's eyes. "That is the same thing that my admirals tell me. They are not believers, as Lord Vader is; they doubt the existence of any power that they cannot unleash with the push of a button. They doubt, even when they've had the edifying experience of feeling the Force crushing the life out of them. Doubt weakens and makes fools out of such creatures." An unwavering hand raised and pointed toward Xizor. "You're not such a fool, are you?"
Xizor bowed his head. "I do not doubt, my lord."
"That's why I'm still listening to you." The Em peror's hand lowered and stroked the arm of the throne.
"My patience is such, however, that I listen to the Imperial admirals as well, fools that they are. Even fools say wise things, from time to time. And that is why I gave permission for their great project, the construction of what they called the Death Star-"
"You should have listened to me," said Vader. The rush of his breath sounded louder and angrier. "The Rebellion was growing even then, and the admirals wasted your time on such folly. I told them that the Death Star, when it was completed, would be a machine and nothing more. Its power would be nothing compared to that which you already possess." Vader's voice darkened in tone, indicating the depths of his annihilating temper. "And I was proved right, was I not, my lord?"
"Indeed you were, Vader." The Emperor gave a single nod. "But even in the wretchedness of their folly, my admirals were still right about one thing. Their little minds are made of the same unenlightened stuff as are the minds of most of the galaxy's inhabitants. They see things the same way-and other things are invisible to them. The Jedi Knights are no longer; they were the only ones, other than ourselves, who could see the Force for what it is. These lesser creatures are blind to that which moves the stars in all the worlds' skies and the blood in the veins of those below. They need something they can see-that was what my admirals hoped to give them with the Death Star. Its power-such as it was-lay within the comprehension of all the lesser creatures; it would have evoked the fear and obedience that the subtleties of the Force would take a great deal longer to achieve. You were right that it was a machine and nothing more. But still a useful machine. A tool. When all that is required is a hammer, it is folly to turn the universe's primal energy to such mundane purposes."
Darth Vader stood unmoved by the Emperor's words. "I trust that you will remember one thing. A hammer can be broken, as can any other tool. The Death Star was destroyed. But the Force is eternal."
"I won't forget, Vader. But for now, all such simple tools are the concern of my admirals. Let them occupy themselves with building better ones, if they can. We have already distracted ourselves from our purpose here."
The Emperor turned back toward Prince Xizor. "You say the Empire is at risk. You tell me nothing new. I am aware of the threat presented by the Rebel Alliance-a threat that will be extinguished in due time. But the level of your concern, Xizor, is what I find surprising. It sounds like doubt to me, no matter what you say to the contrary. And doubt should be eliminated at the source."
"Not doubt, but the truth." The edges of Xizor's own intricately stitched robes trailed across his boots as he folded his arms across his chest. "You cannot vanquish the Alliance without creating new threats to your authority. As your power increases and becomes closer to absolute, so does an unavoidable hazard. A hazard that is woven into the very fiber of the Empire."
"He speaks nonsense, my lord."