Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights II Streets of Shadows - Michael Reaves [80]
“Hear me well, disgruntled masses. First the stormtroopers will come for the peaceful nonhumans such as the Gossams and the Caamasi. Then they will come for the defiant nonhumans. Then the humans who object, and, finally, they will turn upon and devour themselves in an orgy of mindless destruction and self-loathing, until the galaxy turns back to barbarism and all semblance of kindness, decency, and civilization is lost!”
It went on in that vein for some time, individual members of the audience frequently murmuring their agreement. There was no applause; the speaker’s words were too solemn for applause. Jax listened with half a mind, the other half being occupied with studying those in attendance. In addition to the humans there was a representative smattering of sentients from all across the galaxy, as he had known there would be. The Whiplash drew support even from some of those species seemingly favored by the government.
As a member of the subversive organization, he attended the clandestine meetings whenever he could, to reacquaint himself with familiar faces and to meet new ones as well.
A tall and elderly human female took the podium from the exhausted Gossam and started talking about organizations similar to the Whiplash that were forming on other worlds. Jax sat up. This was news to him, as it no doubt would have been to the general media. Was the government aware of these stirrings? If so, it would behoove the Imperial authorities to keep such knowledge quiet. A cluster of malcontents on one world was easily monitored. Individual groups of dissenters were each separately a simple matter to contain.
The woman was talking not merely of groups with similar ideas and aims, however, but of the first threads of cooperation among them. Of the Whiplash not simply talking to like-minded factions on other worlds, but of linking up with them. Of not just speaking out, but taking action.
What she was describing went deeper and broader than resistance. She was promoting organized rebellion. Not for now, not even for tomorrow; the advocates of resistance were too scattered and too few to risk anything like direct confrontation with the government. But the first notions, the preliminary inklings, were there, scattered throughout her speech. Some in the audience were moved to tears, others to cries to take up arms immediately. The speaker calmed the latter even as she dissuaded them. It was not yet time. Preparations had to be made. Measures needed to be taken. The groundwork had to be laid.
A now riveted Jax listened intently to every word. Clearly the Whiplash was becoming more than just an avenue for getting dissidents safely offworld. There was purpose growing behind it, and individuals who were dedicated and empowered.
Just individuals? he wondered. Or were certain planetary governments, disenchanted with the direction Palpatine was taking, having second or third thoughts about aligning themselves with the newly proclaimed Empire?
After the human finished speaking, the meeting broke up. Some attendees departed quietly and in haste. Others remained, gathering in small groups to further discuss the ideas that had been presented. The speakers had removed themselves quickly, departing one at a time and in different directions so that if any happened to be followed and picked up for questioning, their arraignment would not imperil their fellows.
Jax was leaving, too, when a sturdily built older human crossed his path and raised a hand.
“Your pardon, citizen.” The man’s gaze dropped to the deactivated weapon partly concealed at the Jedi’s waist. “I couldn’t help but notice the unusual weapon you’re carrying. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a Velmorian flamesword. An unconventional weapon, but one that can still be quite effective.”
“You have a good eye for tradition, friend.” Jax resumed walking. The