Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [118]
That certainly seemed to be the majority opinion inside the transparisteel-enclosed passenger compartment. As tumblers clinked and expensively attired individuals saluted one another on their forthcoming triumph, one would have thought the articles of secession had already been signed and disseminated. Laughter rose above the small talk as jokes were swapped that described the eagerly anticipated reactions of certain well-known and heartily disliked politicians to the declaration that was to come.
Among the revelers were a handful who did not join in the hasty celebration. Most notable among these was a prominent Shu Mai of mild aspect and conciliatory demeanor. Idly, she peered out through the protective transparisteel at the unending panorama of residences and factories, gardens and urban facilities sliding past beneath them. The morning sky was full of similar, if far less well-appointed vehicles, carrying people to and from their places of work and habitation. Billions of them on Coruscant alone, trillions more scattered across the galaxy, the fate of all about to be altered to one degree or another by the decision the handful of sentients in this one transport were on the verge of rendering.
It was a great responsibility, she knew. Too much, really, for one individual to ponder. But she was prepared to do so. As president of the Commerce Guild, she was charged with making such decisions. Sooner or later, all sentients were compelled to confront their destiny. Most turned away from it. She intended to fully embrace her own.
Someone had to step forward and say what needed to be said. The victory celebration was getting out of hand—especially in the absence of any victory. Working her way to the back of the compartment, Shu Mai stepped up on a small stool. It wasn’t much of a platform, but then, this was not the Guild she was addressing, either.
“It’s too soon!” Shu Mai proclaimed, loud enough to be heard above the babble but without shouting.
Conversation faded quickly. Everyone turned to look at her.
“Too soon,” she added in a softer yet still steely tone, “to reveal our real intentions, and ourselves.”
“Excuse me, Shu Mai,” declared a slim but powerful humanoid who stood in the senate for three inhabited worlds, “but not only is it not too soon, hssst, it is overdue. We have waited for this moment long enough.” The subsequent rising murmur showed just how much support this opinion held among the assembled.
Shu Mai was not intimidated. She never was. The easily intimidated did not become president of an organization like the Commerce Guild. “Everything we have worked for is at stake here. All our preparations, our carefully laid-out plans, are at last beginning to coalesce. Nothing will shatter our mutual dream more than to show ourselves prematurely.”
“Nothing will cost us fickle support among those systems still wavering more than delaying unnecessarily,” came a contradictory shout from the back of the group. The supportive murmuring rose afresh, even stronger this time.
Shu Mai raised both hands for silence. As she was one of their own, they conceded her their attention: out of respect not for her insistence, but for the power she wielded with the Guild. Beyond the transparisteel canopy, a judicial speeder drew close, checking on the luxury vehicle. Though the aerial transport was sealed as tight against external surveillance techniques as modern technology could make it, she waited until the speeder accelerated out of sight.
“My friends, you all know me. You know of my devotion and that of the rest of the Guild to the cause. We have worked together, planned together, kept secret from the Senate together our carefully designed intentions for many years now. It is the wise animal who waits until the fruit is ripe before eating. Pluck it too soon, and sickness can be the result.”
A squat, muscular figure pushed its way to the forefront of the group to confront the speaker directly.