said quietly, his face in shadow as he hunched forward and reached up under the control board. “Everyone who was inside is gone, either from the blast itself or from the building’s collapse. Whoever Palpatine sent to do the job was very thorough.”
With a jolt, the landspeeder started up. “Yes,” Bel Iblis murmured, taking one final look at the burning building as Aach spun the vehicle around and headed in the other direction, down the street. “He was indeed.”
“And he’s not going to give up now,” Aach added, pulling hard to the side to get out of the way of a fleet of Extinguisher speeder trucks as they raced past toward the conflagration. A waste of effort, Bel Iblis thought numbly as they passed. There was nothing anyone could do now. “You’re going to have to go underground until Bail and Mon Mothma can backtrack this and identify whoever was responsible.”
“I suppose so,” Bel Iblis said. His left shoulder felt cold, and he looked down to see that the top of his coat there had been torn completely away by some bit of flying debris that the bulk of Aach’s landspeeder hadn’t protected him from. Odd—he wondered why he hadn’t noticed that before.
He was suddenly aware of a watchful silence, and looked over to find Aach eyeing him warily. “Are you all right, Senator?” the other asked. “Did you hear what I said? You have to go away somewhere and hide.”
“Yes, I heard you,” Bel Iblis said, the pain inside him beginning to give way to a black and simmering anger. In that single instant, a moment frozen forever in time, Palpatine had taken away from him everything he held dear. His wife, his children, his career. His life.
Everything, that is, but one. “And I’ll be all right,” he went on, “When Palpatine is dead, and what was once the Republic has been restored.”
“I understand,” Aach murmured. “You’re one of us now, Senator.”
Bel Iblis frowned at him. “What are you talking about? I’ve been part of the Rebel Alliance since it was first formed.”
“But you were with us for other reasons,” Aach said. “Political reasons like Palpatine’s abuse of power, or idealistic reasons like erosion of personal freedom or the antialien biases drifting into the legal system.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened briefly. “Now Palpatine has hurt you. Not someone else, but you. Now it’s personal.”
Bel Iblis took a deep breath. “Maybe it is,” he conceded. “On the other hand, maybe that’s exactly what he wants: to trick us into thinking we’re fighting him for purely personal reasons.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong is that that kind of battle is driven by emotion,” Bel Iblis said. “Eventually, the emotion burns away, and then your reason for continuing the fight is gone.”
He fingered the edges of the hole in his coat. “But we’re not going to fall into that trap. He can do anything he wants to me—can take anything away from me that he will. I’ll still fight him because it’s the right thing to do. Period.”
For a few minutes they drove on in silence. On the rear display the burning shell gradually receded behind the other buildings of the city, leaving only an angry black-orange pillar of smoke to mark his family’s funeral pyre. It seemed terribly wrong somehow to be running away like this, as if he were casually and cavalierly brushing aside their lives and dishonoring their memory.
But no. They were dead, and the dishonor of their blood was solely on Palpatine’s hands. All that was left for him now was to do whatever he could to prevent others from dying in the same violent and useless way.
And if the whispered rumors he’d heard about this Death Star project of Tarkin’s were even close to the actual truth… “You said I could take your ship?” he asked Aach.
“Yes, if you feel up to flying it yourself,” the other said. “I was thinking I might stay around here a day or two anyway.”
“Why? To
With a jolt, the landspeeder started up. “Yes,” Bel Iblis murmured, taking one final look at the burning building as Aach spun the vehicle around and headed in the other direction, down the street. “He was indeed.”
“And he’s not going to give up now,” Aach added, pulling hard to the side to get out of the way of a fleet of Extinguisher speeder trucks as they raced past toward the conflagration. A waste of effort, Bel Iblis thought numbly as they passed. There was nothing anyone could do now. “You’re going to have to go underground until Bail and Mon Mothma can backtrack this and identify whoever was responsible.”
“I suppose so,” Bel Iblis said. His left shoulder felt cold, and he looked down to see that the top of his coat there had been torn completely away by some bit of flying debris that the bulk of Aach’s landspeeder hadn’t protected him from. Odd—he wondered why he hadn’t noticed that before.
He was suddenly aware of a watchful silence, and looked over to find Aach eyeing him warily. “Are you all right, Senator?” the other asked. “Did you hear what I said? You have to go away somewhere and hide.”
“Yes, I heard you,” Bel Iblis said, the pain inside him beginning to give way to a black and simmering anger. In that single instant, a moment frozen forever in time, Palpatine had taken away from him everything he held dear. His wife, his children, his career. His life.
Everything, that is, but one. “And I’ll be all right,” he went on, “When Palpatine is dead, and what was once the Republic has been restored.”
“I understand,” Aach murmured. “You’re one of us now, Senator.”
Bel Iblis frowned at him. “What are you talking about? I’ve been part of the Rebel Alliance since it was first formed.”
“But you were with us for other reasons,” Aach said. “Political reasons like Palpatine’s abuse of power, or idealistic reasons like erosion of personal freedom or the antialien biases drifting into the legal system.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened briefly. “Now Palpatine has hurt you. Not someone else, but you. Now it’s personal.”
Bel Iblis took a deep breath. “Maybe it is,” he conceded. “On the other hand, maybe that’s exactly what he wants: to trick us into thinking we’re fighting him for purely personal reasons.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong is that that kind of battle is driven by emotion,” Bel Iblis said. “Eventually, the emotion burns away, and then your reason for continuing the fight is gone.”
He fingered the edges of the hole in his coat. “But we’re not going to fall into that trap. He can do anything he wants to me—can take anything away from me that he will. I’ll still fight him because it’s the right thing to do. Period.”
For a few minutes they drove on in silence. On the rear display the burning shell gradually receded behind the other buildings of the city, leaving only an angry black-orange pillar of smoke to mark his family’s funeral pyre. It seemed terribly wrong somehow to be running away like this, as if he were casually and cavalierly brushing aside their lives and dishonoring their memory.
But no. They were dead, and the dishonor of their blood was solely on Palpatine’s hands. All that was left for him now was to do whatever he could to prevent others from dying in the same violent and useless way.
And if the whispered rumors he’d heard about this Death Star project of Tarkin’s were even close to the actual truth… “You said I could take your ship?” he asked Aach.
“Yes, if you feel up to flying it yourself,” the other said. “I was thinking I might stay around here a day or two anyway.”
“Why? To
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