Among the ship’s crew, the Togruta, Captain Lah, had been the strongest in the Force, but she was beyond his help by the time he reached her. Had it not been for sloppiness on his part, owing to fatigue and blood loss, and lightning-fast reflexes on hers, the lightsaber might simply have pierced her neck and cervical spinal cord. But she had spun at the moment of impact, and the crimson blade had all but decapitated her. The Zabrak, too, had a slightly higher-than-normal midi-chlorian count, but not high enough to make him Force-sensitive. How different it had been to observe the behavior of the Zabrak’s midi-chlorians compared with those of Darth Tenebrous, only two days earlier!
The Jedi routinely performed blood tests to verify the midi-chlorian counts of prospective trainees, but Plagueis had passed beyond the need for such crude measurements. He could not only sense the strength of the Force in another but also perceive the midi-chlorians that individualized Forceful beings. It was that dark side ability that had allowed generations of Sith to locate and initiate recruits. The dispersal of midi-chlorians at the moment of physical death was, for lack of a better term, inexorable. Analogous to his fated confrontation with the Woebegone crew, the moment of death appeared to be somehow fixed in space and time. According to his Sith education, since Captain Lah and the others had been in some sense dead from the moment Plagueis’s gaze had alighted on the freighter, it followed that the midi-chlorians that resided in alleged symbiosis with them must have been preparing to be subsumed into the reservoir of life energy that was the Force long before Plagueis had stowed away. His attempts to save them — to prolong that state of symbiosis — were comparable to using a sponge to dam a raging river. And yet the Sith Lords of old were said to have been able to draw on the energies released during death to extend their own lives, as well as the lives of others. Unfortunately, much like the technique of essence transfer, that ancient knowledge had been lost.
Feeling the ship revert to realspace, Plagueis rose from the bunk, dressed, and walked forward, stepping over the corpses sprawled in the main cabin, the deck plates awash in fire-suppressant fluid and blackening pools of blood, and through passageways reeking of death. One of the crew members, the now one-armed Dresselian, was still alive but comatose.
In the ship’s undermount cockpit the droid stood motionless at the control console. Beyond the transparisteel viewport myriad stars hung in space.
“Sir, we are approaching the coordinates supplied by your comlink,” the droid said without turning from the view.
Plagueis settled into the pilot’s chair, which barely accommodated his long body. “How do you come to be aboard the Woebegone, droid?”
“Formerly I served the needs of a medical facility on Obroa-skai.”
“In what capacity?”
“Research, in addition to performing a wide range of surgeries on beings of diverse species.”
Plagueis regarded the droid. “Thus, your many appendages.”
“Yes, sir. But the ones I wear currently were retrofitted when I became the property of Captain Lah, so that I might better serve the needs of the Woebegone.”
“And how did you become the captain’s property?”
“I believe, sir, that I was awarded to Captain Lah in place of payments due for the receipt of certain merchandise. It is also my belief that the exchange was meant to be temporary—”
“But Captain Lah decided to keep you.”
“Yes, sir. She decided to keep me. I’m sorry to say that I am at a loss to explain her reasons, and I never presumed to ask.”
Plagueis nodded. “That’s a good quality in a droid.”
“I understand how it could be, sir.”
“Tell me, droid, what is the possible consequence of low theloxin levels in a Pau’an?”
OneOne-FourDee didn’t hesitate. “One possible consequence would be an elevation of the oxidation rate, leading to the growth of an exophthalmic goiter, which in turn would affect the production of roaamin from the anterior lobes of the lutiaary gland.”
“And?”
“One result might be giantism, well beyond the Pau’an norm.”
“If so?”
“The connecting ganglia making up the autonomic nervous system and controlling glandular secretion might induce an acceleration of the circular sphincter muscles of the digestive tract, resulting in xerophthalmia.”
“So you are a diagnostician, as well.”
“In a minor capacity, sir.”
Beyond the viewport, growing larger against the backdrop of a behemoth ringed planet, a space station turned in fixed orbit near a heavily cratered moon. A hodgepodge of interconnected domed modules, the station featured two long, boxy arms to which ships of varying size were tethered. Plagueis called data to the display screen of his comlink and placed it in view of 11-4D.
“Transmit this code over the comm.”
The droid performed the task and waited at the comm while the cockpit enunciators crackled to life.
“Unidentified freighter, Deep Space Demo and Removal is in reception of your request. Give us a moment to authenticate your transmission.”
“Holding fast while you authenticate,” Plagueis said.
“Freighter, you are cleared for docking,” the voice returned a moment later.
“My ship,” Plagueis said, leaning forward to take hold of the yoke.
As a precaution, the station directed them to a berth at the distal end of the larger of the two arms.
“You will accompany me into the landing bay,” Plagueis told the droid when he had shut the ship down. “Raise the boarding ramp behind us and activate the anti-intrusion system. No one is to board the Woebegone unless I say otherwise.”
“I understand, sir.”
Waiting in the gloomy landing bay were a female Nikto and a russet-colored young male Dug, backed by a motley contingent of armed beings. Lowering the cowl of his robe as he approached, Plagueis saw the Nikto stiffen and signal those behind her to leave the area immediately.
“Magister Damask,” she began in Basic, “I had no foreknowledge—”
Plagueis cut her off. “This isn’t a social call.”
“Of course, Magister. Regardless, do you wish me to apprise Boss Cabra of your visit?”
“Is he on station?”
“No, sir. But he can be reached by comm.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Plagueis said. “I’ll contact him myself.”
“As you wish, Magister. What services can the station provide?”
Plagueis gestured in an offhanded way to the berthed freighter. “This ship is to be sealed and slagged.”
“Without salvaging anything?” the Dug said.
Plagueis looked at him. “I said sealed and slagged. Do you need to hear it a third time?”
The Dug bared his teeth. “Do you know who you’re talking to, Muun?”
Plagueis cut his eyes to the Nikto. “Who is this callow pup?”
“Pup?” the Dug repeated before the Nikto could intervene.
“Boss Cabra’s youngest progeny, Magister,” she said quickly, restraining the Dug with her extended left arm. “He means no disrespect.”
Plagueis regarded the Dug again. “What are you called, pup?”