Tenant glanced around before answering. “About a mobile battle station. A weapon that will—”
Tarkin stopped him before he could say more, glancing at Amedda in the hope that he and Tenant were, in fact, out of the Chagrian’s range.
“This is hardly the place for discussions of that sort,” he said firmly.
Tenant looked chastised. “Of course. It’s just that … You hear so many rumors. People are here one day, gone the next. And no one has laid eyes on the Emperor in months. Amedda, Dangor, and the rest of the Ruling Council have taken to dispatching processions of Imperial skylimos simply to maintain an illusion that the Emperor moves about in public.” He fell briefly silent. “You know they commissioned an enormous statue of the Emperor for Senate — I mean, Imperial Plaza? So far, though, the thing looks more terrifying than majestic.”
Tarkin raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the idea, Nils?”
Tenant nodded in a distracted way. “You’re right, of course.” Again he regarded the nearby columns with wariness. “The scuttlebutt is that you’re scheduled to meet with him.”
Tarkin shrugged noncommittally. “If that’s his pleasure.”
Tenant compressed his lips. “Put in a word for me, Wilhuff — for old times’ sake. A great change is coming — everyone senses it — and I want to be back in the action.”
It struck Tarkin as an odd request, even a trifle audacious. But in considering it, he supposed he could understand wanting to be in the Emperor’s good graces, as he was certainly grateful to be there.
He clapped his fellow officer on the shoulder. “If the occasion arises, Nils.”
Tenant smiled weakly. “You’re a good man, Wilhuff,” he said, falling back and vanishing as Tarkin hurried to catch up with Amedda and the retinue turned a corner in the hallway.
Tarkin attracted a good deal of attention as the group climbed a broad stairway and debouched into a vast atrium. Figures of all stripe and station — officials, advisers, soldiers — stopped in their tracks, even while trying not to make an obvious display of staring at him. Subjugator of pirates; former governor of Eriadu; graduate of Prefsbelt; naval officer during the Clone Wars, decorated at the Battle of Kamino and promoted to admiral after a daring escape from the Citadel prison; adjutant general by the war’s end, and named by the Emperor one of twenty Imperial Moffs … After years of absence from the Imperial capital, was Tarkin here to be forgiven, rewarded, or punished with another mission that would send him chasing Separatist recidivists through the Western Reaches, the Corporate Sector, the Tion Hegemony?
He sometimes wondered where fate might have taken him if he hadn’t entered the academy system after his years with Outland, when a move to civilian instruction had seemed the best strategy for introducing himself to the wider galaxy. Perhaps he would still be in pursuit of Outer Rim pirates or mercenaries, or slaved to a desk in some planetary capital city. No matter what, it was unlikely that he would ever have crossed paths with the Emperor — when he was still known as Palpatine.
It was while Tarkin was attending the Sullust Sector Spacefarers Academy that they met — or rather that Palpatine had sought him out. Tarkin had just returned to the academy’s orbital facility from long hours of starship maneuvers in an Incom T-95 Trainer when someone called his name as he was crossing the flight deck. Turning to the voice, he was astonished to find the Republic senator walking toward him. Tarkin knew that Palpatine was part of Supreme Chancellor Kalpana’s party, which included his administrator Finis Valorum and several other senators, all of whom were on station to attend the academy’s commencement and commissioning day ceremonies. Most of the graduates would be moving on to positions in commercial piloting, local system navies, or the Judicial Department. Dressed in fashionable blue robes, the red-haired aesthete politician flashed a welcoming smile and extended a hand in greeting.
“Cadet Tarkin, I’m Senator Palpatine.”
“I know who you are,” Tarkin said, shaking hands with him. “You represent Naboo in the Senate. Your homeworld and mine are practically galactic neighbors.”
“So we are.”
“I want to thank you personally for the position you took in the Senate on the bill that will encourage policing of the free trade zones.”
Palpatine gestured in dismissal. “Our hope is to bring stability to the Outer Rim worlds.” His eyes narrarowed. “The Jedi haven’t provided any support in dealing with the pirates that continue to plague the Seswenna?”
Tarkin shook his head. “They’ve ignored our requests for intervention. Apparently the Seswenna doesn’t rate highly enough on their list of priorities.”
Palpatine sniffed. “Well, I might be able to offer some help in that regard — not with the Jedi, of course. With the Judicials, I mean.”
“Eriadu would be grateful for any help. Stability in the Seswenna could ease tensions all along the Hydian Way.”
Palpatine’s eyebrows lifted in delighted surprise. “A cadet who is not only a very skilled pilot, but who also has an awareness of politics. What are the chances?”
“I might ask the same. What are the chances of a Republic senator knowing me on sight?”
“As a matter of fact, your name came up in a discussion I was having with a group of like-minded friends on Coruscant.”
“My name?” Tarkin said in disbelief as they began to amble toward the pilots’ ready rooms.
“We are always on the lookout for those who demonstrate remarkable skills in science, technology, and other fields.” Palpatine allowed his words to trail off, then said: “Tell me, Cadet Tarkin, what are your plans following graduation from this institution?”
“I still have another two years of training. But I’m hoping to be accepted to the Judicial Academy.”
Palpatine waved in dismissal. “Easily done. I happen to be personal friends with the provost of the academy. I would be glad to advocate on your behalf, if you wish.”
“I’d be honored,” Tarkin managed. “I don’t know what to say, Senator. If there’s anything I can do—”
“There is.” Palpatine came to an abrupt halt on the flight deck and turned to face Tarkin directly. “I want to propose an alternative course for you. Politics.”
Tarkin repressed a laugh. “I’m not sure, Senator …”
“I know what you must be thinking. But politics was a noble enough choice for some of your relatives. Or are you cut from so different a cloth?” Palpatine continued before Tarkin could reply. “If I may speak candidly for a moment, Cadet, we feel — my friends and I — that you’d be wasting your talents in the Judicial Department. With your piloting skills, I’m certain you would be an excellent addition to their forces, but you’re already much more than a mere pilot.”
Tarkin shook his head in bewilderment. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“And why should you? Politics, however, is my area of expertise.” Palpatine’s relaxed expression became serious. “I understand what it’s like to be a young man of action and obvious ambition who feels that he has been marginalized by the circumstances of his birth. Even here, I can imagine that you’ve been ostracized by the spoiled progeny of the influential. It has little to do with wealth — your family could buy and sell most of the brats here — and everything to do with fortune: the fact that you weren’t born closer to the Core. And so you are forced to defend against their petty prejudices: that you lack refinement, culture, a sense of propriety.” He stopped to allow a smile to take shape. “I’m well aware that you’ve been able to make a name for yourself in spite of this. That alone, young Tarkin, shows that you weren’t born to follow.”