Star Wars_ X-Wing 08_ Isard's Revenge - Michael A. Stackpole [15]
Krennel’s metal hand tightened on the edge of his desk. “I had noticed that flaw in his character before.”
“A flaw commonly found in nonhumans.” The corner of Isard’s mouth lazily curled into a grin. “They seek to be treated as our equals, whereas we act as their superiors. They hold themselves back from accessing the tools power gives them, and therefore can never wrest from us the respect we would give equals. They seek to cloak themselves in nobility, aping all we are and have, yet do not see that if they are not resolved to do what it takes to maintain power, they are never fit to wield it.”
Krennel could hear his pulse beginning to pound in his ears. What Isard said, coming in husky, low tones barely above a whisper, quickened his heart. She’d spoken a credo he’d accepted in his heart when, as a child, he’d helped his father burn alien homes so an agro-combine could turn their land into productive fields. The way she spoke, the conviction in her voice, the disdain in her words, resonated inside him. She knew his mind and knew she could bare her heart without fear of rebuke.
He forced himself to exhale slowly through his nose. “So you agree, then, that Mon Mothma’s mongrel Republic is an affront to humanity?”
“An ‘affront’? You are far too kind to her, Prince-Admiral.” Isard began to slowly pace along a curved path that never brought her closer to him than three meters. “It is an abomination that cannot survive. During the Thrawn crisis Bothans were set against the Mon Calamari—and these are two of the more reasonable species in the New Republic. There are others who, even now, are beginning to arm themselves in the hopes that someday—next week, next year, in the next decade—they will be able to create their own empires, or redress ancient wrongs and renew ancient rivalries.”
She laughed aloud. “Can you imagine, Prince-Admiral, the discord sown if the identity of those who destroyed the Caamasi is ever uncovered? Planetary genocide is a crime that will have everyone howling for blood and lots of it, especially since the Caamasi have become even more pacifistic, more beatific in the wake of their near-extermination a generation ago. There are pressures lurking, building, in the New Republic. Much energy is being deflected into creating a government, but once the structures are in place to allow for the exercise and abuse of power, these pressures will flood through it and tear it apart.”
Krennel brushed his left hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Astute if not terribly surprising observations, Isard.” He made a snap decision to keep her off-balance. “With such understanding, you could easily see a way to create your own Empire. Wait, you tried that, didn’t you? And the Rebels killed you for it?”
Her eyes flashed for a second, and her right hand brushed itself over her scars. “They tried to kill me. They did not succeed.”
Krennel noticed her words came without confidence. She doesn’t remember how they almost got her—amnesia’s no surprise with such massive head trauma. Perhaps she thinks she’s lost some of her edge, which is why she’s come to me. “Are you giving me all this political analysis so I can sit back and watch the galaxy fall into legions of civil wars?”
“No, I tell you this so you can recognize the opportunity you have to rebuild the Empire and become Emperor.” She pointed an unwavering finger at him. “You will recall I offered you this opportunity before, but you decided to take Pestage’s realm instead of bringing him to me. I would have made you Emperor, and now I shall again.”
The Prince-Admiral plucked a comlink from the desk. “Shall we call Mon Mothma now and tell her to hand over the reins of power?”
“Not directly, no. She’ll hand them to us all on her own.”
“What do you mean?”
A brief smile