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“What do you think, Kaarz?” Standing next to him in the recently pressurized but still-cold office annex, Teela knew she was once again being tested. Every time she was around the Old Man, he did that. She’d heard that it took awhile for him to trust you - but once he did you were golden in his eyes. It seemed that everybody worth the salt in their bodies who worked for him wanted him to feel that way. And why shouldn’t they? A missive of recommendation from Stinex, even just a line or two, was worth just about any conceivable torture one could imagine and endure. It was a ticket for the hyperlane that could lead to wealth, fame, and the most desirable thing of all: Freedom. The freedom to design what one wished, to give free rein to one’s artistic expression, to create something that might truly outlast the ages, that might - Teela realized that the Old Man was waiting patiently for an answer to his question.”

“She was working for the Empire, a thing she had sworn she would never do, helping design a vessel that would, in all probability, be the most fearsome weapon the galaxy had ever seen. While it was true that improving the biometrics and seating pattern in an assembly hall was not the same as devising a superlaser that could melt moons, still… Still, one was either a factor in something’s success, or a factor in its failure. Working for the enemy, said the little voice she sometimes heard in her head. She often visualized it as a miniature version of herself, shaking a chastising finger. How sad is that? Not as if I had a choice, is it? she replied mentally. Nobody asked me if I wanted the job, now, did they? You could have turned it down, the avatar of her conscience shot back. And been sent back to that serpent’s nest of a planet to rot and die? To what end? Her inner self fell silent.”

“The Jedi - how he hated them! How he loathed their hollow sanctimoniousness, their pretense of piety, their hypocrisy. How he longed for the day when their Temple would be a ruin of of smoking rubble, littered with their crushed corpses. If he closed his eyes, he could see the apocalypse of the order as vividly as if it were reality. It was reality, after all - a future reality, but nonetheless valid. It was destined, ordained, predetermined. And he would be instrumental in bringing it about. It was what his entire life had been designed for.”

“This latest shift didn’t really matter all that much: Republic, Empire, it was six to one, half a dozen to the other. It meant little to the average person struggling to make a life. Either form of government could make the mag-levs run on time, and both stepped on individual rights far more than they should. As far as Atour was concerned, the best government was that which governed least. Something a step or two above anarchy would be ideal. Now there was a power-hungry Emperor running things. Both history and personal experience had taught Atour that in as little as a few years, or as much as a few centuries, there would come evolution - or revolution - and this, too, would pass. The new rulers would start out full of promise and hope and good intentions, and gradually settle into mediocrity. A benevolent but inept king was as bad as a despot.”

“I think this galaxy would be a whole lot nicer and more pleasant place to live if we all just stop killing one another. Who's with me on this?" A few chuckles and a couple of faux cheers were the response. "You're a visionary," I-Five told him. "Float it past Palpatine, see what he thinks," Uli suggested.”