Cloak of Deception

The four walls of Finis Valorum's office, at the summit of the governmental district's stateliest if not most statuesque edifice, were made of transparisteel, paneled by structural members into a continuous band of regular and inverted triangles. The city-planet that was Coruscant--"Scintillant Orb," "Jewel of the Core," choked heart of the Galactic Republic--spread to all sides in a welter of lustrous domes, knife-edged spires, and terraced superstructures that climbed to the sky. The taller buil-ings resembled outsize rocketships that had never left their launch pads, or the wind-eroded lava tors of long-dead volcanoes. Some of the domes were flattened hemispheres perched on cylindrical bases, while others had the look of shallow, hand-thrown ceramic bowls with finialed lids. Striations of magnetically guided sky traffic moved swiftly above the cityscape--streams of transports, air buses, taxis, and limousines, coursing between the tall spires and over the mesureless chasms like schools of exotic fish. Instead of feeding, however, they were the feeders, distributing the galaxy's wealth among the greedy trillion to whom Coruscant was home. As often as Valorum had beheld the view--which was to say, nearly every day of his now seven years as Supreme Chancellor of the Republic--he had yet to grow indifferent to the spectacle of Coruscant. As worlds went, it was neither large nor especially rugged, but history had transformed it into a uniquely vertical place, a vertical experience more common to ocean than atmospheric life. Valorum's principal office was located in the lower level of the Galactic Senate dome, but he was generally so swamped by requests and business there that he reserved this lofty perch for meetings of a more private nature. Pale hands clasped at his back, he stood at the bank of transparisteel windows that faced the dawn, though daybreak was hours behind him. He wore a magenta tunic that was high-collared and double-breasted, with matching trousers and a wide cummerbund. Southern light, polarized by the transparisteel panels, flooded the room. But Valorum's sole guest had taken a seat well out of the light's reach. "I fear, Supreme Chancellor, that we face a monumental challenge," Senator Palpatine was saying from the shadows. "Frayed at its far-flung borders and hollowed at its very heart by corruption, the Republic is in grave danger of unraveling. Order is needed, directives that will restore balance. Even the most desperate remedies should not be overlooked." Although such opinions had become the common sentiment, Palpatine's words pierced Valorum like a sword. The fact that he knew them to be true made them all the more difficult to hear. He turned his back to the view and returned to his desk, where he sat heavily into his padded chair. Aging with distinction, Valorum had a receding cap of shorn silver hair, pouches under piercing blue eyes, and dark, bushy brows. His stern features and deep voice belied a compassionate spirit and questing intellect. But as the latest in the line of a po-litical dynasty that stretched back thousands of years--a dynasty many thought weakened by its uncommon longevity--he had never been fully successful at overcoming an innate patrician aloofness. "Where have we gone wrong?" he asked in a firm but sad voice. "How did we manage to miss the portents along the way?" Palpatine showed him an understanding look. "The fault is not in ourselves, Supreme Chancellor. The fault lies in the out-lying star systems, and the civil strife iniquity has engendered there." His voice was carefully modulated, occasionally world-weary, seemingly immune to anger or alarm. "This most recent situation at Dorvalla,Luceno, James is the author of 'Cloak of Deception', published 2001 under ISBN 9780345442987 and ISBN 0345442989.