Diversity Alliance

15

The world of Chroma Zed boasted the most spectacular amphitheater facilities Nolaa Tarkona had ever seen.

A broad balcony served as a speaking platform, the absolute center of attention halfway down a sheer cliff face. The balcony podium was bracketed on either side by a bifurcated waterfall—two streams of rushing water that slithered down the cliff to join again in a churning pool far below.

Cold, damp spray surrounded the platform, reeking of chemicals.

Nolaa would have found the water undrinkable, had she been inclined to try it; so contaminated was the water with natural petroleum from oil seeps, bubbling black pools near the source of the river, that the tumbling falls were coated with a sheen of oil.

Huddled in cliffside galleries, the gathered Chromans watched and listened. Tossing her writhing head-tail over her shoulder, Nolaa scanned the thousands of faces perhaps tens of thousands—that poked out, while the remainder of the Chromans’ bodies hid in the shadows.

They were wormlike humanoids with smooth heads, smooth skin, and webbed hands. They burrowed into mountainsides and chose homes near trickling water to keep themselves perpetually moist. Their eyes were huge and round, their mouths lipless and quivering.

When Nolaa stepped up to the podium to speak to them, the Chromans raised their voices in a thundering, bubbling cheer.

The Empire had enslaved the Chromans as miners, using their natural propensity for burrowing to harvest mineral resources on hellish planets. On each slave world, the Imperials had made a practice of choosing one random Chroman as an example, to ensure the cooperation of the rest. They would drag the unlucky specimen out of the group’s damp and comfortable tunnels and then make a great show of fastening the victim onto a sunbaked rock, where it would writhe and desiccate under the heat, oozing protective body slime until all its moisture reserves ran out, leaving only a mummified husk.

Such were the excesses that humans visited upon all alien species, Nolaa Tarkona thought. She bit down hard, grinding her sharpened teeth together.

Before she started her much-anticipated speech, two pale Chromans emerged at the very top of the cliff, near where the tumbling waterfalls plunged over the edge.

They carried torches high in their topmost hands, keeping the hot flames as far as possible from their sensitive wet skin. The pair of Chromans squirmed forward to toss the flaming brands onto the oil-slicked water.

The flames caught and traveled quickly.

A sheet of fire spread, covering the surface of the water with blazing color. Twin molten banners of glory unfurled as the fiery streams surged down the cliffside to celebrate Nolaa Tarkona, leader of the Diversity Alliance, their most revered speaker.

The flames blazed, the Chromans cheered, and Nolaa raised her voice.

“My esteemed colleagues, my dear friends, those who have also felt the crushing weight of human persecution you do me great honor.” She was well aware of the spectacular image she must have presented, framed by streams of fire.

“Looking at you all, thinking of the past and what you have suffered, I know how your memories must have left scars on your hearts, on your entire civilization. But it truly saddens me to tell you that your story is not dissimilar to what has happened to my own people, to the Calamarians, to the Bothans, to the Ugnaughts, to the Rodians to practically every alien species in the galaxy. It makes me weep. But the fire of my anger evaporates all of my tears.”

Nolaa fell silent for a moment, respecting the memory of the tortured and the dead.

“And let us not forget the treatment of the Wookiees, enslaved for their brawn and their mechanical abilities; or the Noghri, whose planet was devastated and their people forced to become killers, or the Ithorians, whose verdant and sacred jungles were burned, purely out of spite.

“Too many others of our kindred have suffered at the hands of the human-loving Empire. We must put a stop to the human reign of terror.” Tarkona let her piercing gaze travel around the galleries, making eye contact with individual Chromans whenever possible.

“You know the truth of my words. Over the centuries, humans have brought us sorrow in countless ways.”

Shouts and howls of outrage exploded from the gathered Chromans as they vented their frustration at the years of oppression and senseless slaughter.

“And yet—” She waited for them to quiet down enough that she could be heard. “And yet … that very sorrow has been a harsh and effective teacher. We must remember what we have learned, and never allow it to happen again?”

Murmurs of anticipatory excitement rippled through the galleries.

Nolaa Tarkona gauged her audience, sensing when they were ready for her to go on.

“Now, humans must come to experience the full extent of our pain … and share in it. Only in that way can they ever truly understand what they have done. By sharing our sorrows with them, we can lessen those sorrows. Humans must understand in their hearts that we will no longer bow to their aggression.”

She filled her voice with all the unwavering fervor of her convictions. Her remaining head-tail thrashed with agitation. “And sharing our knowledge and our strength can lead to release, for all alien species. To freedom from the tyranny of all humans—for all time.”

Thousands of Chroman faces leaned forward, hungry for her next words.

“Join me in my Diversity Alliance, and we need never fear enslavement again!”

The crowd roared.

Now that she had finished, Nolaa felt her own heart beating with the passion of her belief. She understood the terror of this species, of all oppressed species. She felt their anger, their need for revenge—a revenge that she and the Diversity Alliance could provide … if only all races from all species would work together to demand the respect and autonomy that was rightfully theirs. She stared at the crowd, and it seemed to her that the number of wormlike spectators had doubled since she’d begun her speech.

High up on the cliffside, out of view, several Chroman workers operated a dam mechanism that shut off the flow of water to the split streams of the waterfall. The fiery water slowed to a trickle, then stopped as the last feathers of flame fell into the pool below, where they burned themselves out.

After a few moments’ pause, the workers opened the dams again—this time at full force. Foaming white water stampeded over the edge, still smelling of chemicals.

Nolaa Tarkona raised her clawed hands, and all the Chromans cheered wildly, welcoming her as their savior. She would do her best to live up to that expectation, no matter what it might take.