The shot opened on Auteme sitting in a tall-backed chair at a white desk. Behind her, a window looked out at the swirling blue-white of hyperspace, though distorted to avoid any hyperspace sickness.
“Welcome, my friends. Thank you for joining me. I’m currently returning from the battlefields of Selvaris.”
She looked as sharp as ever in a crisp blue suit, her hair clean, her makeup set; she hardly looked the part of a soldier returning from the front. Surely some would accuse her of faking having gone to Selvaris, but she insisted on keeping up the appearance of being impossible to catch off. Pristine though she might be, the most perceptive viewers of her address would catch that she was resting heavily against her chair, betraying a lingering exhaustion. Her speech was even more measured and paced than usual. Still, she brought force into her voice whenever she needed it.
“I recall after the Maw attack on Corulag that many took umbrage with my personal intervention in the fighting. I am, after all, Chancellor – my duty is to govern, and therefore serve, not to fight personally. I am not blind to the apparent foolishness of such action. To risk the loss of the Chancellor in such a crucial time is unacceptable. Many of my peers have criticized my decision to go to Selvaris.
“Though my position grants me special privilege, I think it is dangerous in that I may lose perspective. My office grants me vision of the whole galaxy, but I am in danger of not seeing what things are like on the ground. I decided to go to Selvaris in part for strategic reasons, but mostly so that I do not forget what the battlefield is like.
“It was not a pleasant experience. Though most of my life has been marked by war, I know very few people who enjoy it; most, like me, have a deep disdain for it. That is why I went; I needed to remind myself why war is so terrible. When we are far from it, war loses its terror; when we become too eager for it, we will seek it out, build new weapons to use in it, justify every act in its name.
“When I was on Selvaris, I was reminded of what a love of war can do. The Maw’s whole cult is wrapped in war. It pervades their every thought, it is the only thing the Sith and their priests love. They destroy themselves for its sake – the cultists I fought were shells of beings, reduced to empty hatred. When faced with that, I found myself empty, too; I fought a Sith-creature that had been stripped of everything but his rage and hatred, and I could find no sympathy for him in myself.
“War, like the distance of privilege, threatens to limit our perspective. An enemy is placed in front of us, and we must overcome them. We dull our morals and harden our hearts to destroy them – but that hardheartedness stays even when the enemy is gone. We turn around and see a galaxy filled with potential enemies. A love of war makes us monstrous, hate-filled like the Maw, cold like the Empire.
“I found the despair I thought necessary on Selvaris, but I was surprised to also find its antithesis. When I walked through the trenches we’d captured outside the Maw’s camp, I was surprised to see smiles among the Alliance soldiers there. Not innocent smiles, of course; these were hardened Pathfinders, but there was a joy there. The smiles were of recognition – of how far they had come, of how strong the bonds between them were, of how close to the end, the true end of the war we are.
“The bulk of the Maw’s force is fracturing, and with the great success of this latest offensive, we are in position to shatter them.
“These soldiers, even in the face of the horror of war, could look to each other and smile, because they know what comes next. Not six years ago we saw the heart of our nation sundered, and now we are approaching the end of the enemy that struck us. We approach not with hatred, but with a strong grasp of our values and each other. These are the things that survive war. This is the antithesis to war we seek.
“There is an old proverb that goes something like, “Those who come with the sword, by the sword shall perish.” The Maw is on its last legs. They have cut us deep. We rise for one last strike, but we must not strike with hatred, else it consumes us – the end of the Maw is not the end. The end is when we hang up our sword, take hold of one another, and build a better galaxy.
“We are so close. Once more I ask for your resolve and your strength – the Maw is desperate, and more dangerous for it. Stand with the Alliance in whatever way you can, that we might make a future where there are only smiles between comrades, and not a sword in sight.
“Thank you.”
