There's a popular misconception that bigots are big dumb brutes who resort to hatred because their tiny little minds simply can't comprehend the fact that beings who look or act funny might possibly be their equals.
This, Dresden had found, was a terrible miscalculation on the side of those who fought for social justice.
Sure, there were plenty of folks who turned to hate out of sheer stupidity, but there were plenty of others who were just as sane and intelligent as anyone else. Intelligence is no assurance that one wouldn't fall for the ancient traps of tribalism and xenophobia, both survival traits honed by thousands of years of evolution and only discarded by civilization recently, on an evolutionary timescale. That deep seated suspicion that strangeness meant inferiority was a worm that nibbled away at the subconscious of most species, and intelligence had nothing to do with it.
So what happens when otherwise intelligent individuals allow themselves to fall prey to the temptations of demagogues and rabble rousers?
They sought like minded individuals, people who saw the world as they did and reinforced their twisted beliefs. They organized. They planned. They waited for the day when they could make their fellow citizens, blinded by the idealistic lies of their leaders, see the truth of the world.
Dresden found this particular brand of humanity to be vile, and he felt absolutely no guilt about what would happen next.
On the flight over to Naboo, the Station Chief had used the Holonet to make contact with several of the more organized anti-Gungan groups. Though the official policy of the rulers of Naboo, dating all the way back to the Trade Federation's blockade that, according to many historians, was the catalyst that set the Clone Wars in motion, was one of tolerance and coexistence, many Naboo continued to view their aquatic neighbors with suspicion and distrust.
For most of the population, this manifested as little more than a slight feeling of unease, if that. The Naboo truly were a remarkable people in that respect. In the whole history of galactic civilization, it was hard to find a group more dedicated to the ideals of peace and understanding, and their longstanding peace with the Gungans was a testament to what the best of humankind could do if they really set their minds to it.
And so, for centuries, those who let their hatred of the Gungans blind them to monumental accomplishments of their fellow Naboo were, at best, a lunatic fringe. They rarely acted openly, preferring to inhabit the darker corners of the Holonet, where such hatred was free to metastasize. But recently, they'd been given the fodder necessary to make inroads into the public consciousness, thanks to the actions of a Gungan by the name of Poof.
Though the actual series of events was unclear, the popular version of the story was that, in an act of either brazen stupidity or callous disregard for sentient life, Poof had ordered tanks to fire into a building full of hostages, killing several of them. For the average peace loving Naboo, this was a horrific crime. For the seedy undercurrent of anti-Gungan sentiment, it was Life Day come early.
For the first time in centuries, they had been able to start peeking out of the shadows. Of course, they didn't openly charge the Gungans with being an inferior race, oh no. They were, after all, smart enough to realize that would never fly. What they did was use the incident as proof that the Galactic Alliance might not be the best choice for the naturally pacifistic Naboo. They insinuated that the current government's support for the GA might be misguided, that perhaps it was too eager to join forces with such a blatantly militaristic organization. And if they were wrong about that, perhaps they were wrong about other things, too.
These groups were still a fringe, but with careful branding and concealment of their worst elements, they were able to paint themselves as semi-legitimate. They had a voice in the public forum now. A much maligned voice, but a voice nonetheless.
What Dresden had offered them was both simple, and brilliant. They would be given an incident, a catalyst that they could use to their advantage. They didn't know that he was an agent of the First Order. To a couple of their more opportunistic leaders, he had insinuated that he was working for a foreign state, let slip a couple of lines of Sith rhetoric, and hinted that, if they could show they had the capability to act when prompted, that more overt assistance would come.
These leaders weren't stupid. They knew they were being used, but they also knew that, if they wanted support, they had to let themselves be used. And so, they had agreed to Dresden's plan: when given the signal, they would take to the streets. They would march on the Palace, chanting and carrying signs, and certain more subversive elements would try to entice the government into overreacting. All they were waiting for was the signal.
After several minutes of carefully searching the club, Dresden found his dataport. He plugged in one of Miss S's trick chips, then walked away. A few minutes later, a certain email address received a message, routed halfway across the galaxy and through about a dozen different firewalls and proxies.
"Execute Order 66."
Whether or not the plan would work, Dresden had no idea. Perhaps the palace would be thronged by angry protesters. Perhaps it would be a handful of neckbearded weirdos showing up without having bothered to wipe the pastry crumbs from their fingers. Either way, it was out of his hands now.
[member="The Major"] [member="Emilia Ravel"] [member="Jamie Pyne"] [member="Adder"] [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Isabella Fonti"]
