Fireworks
By Sapadu
Triclops had always been a pacifist.
He'd hated war. He'd been repulsed by the destruction, pain, filth, and death he'd seen in his life. The armies of the Empire had torn families apart, poisoned healthy lands and worlds, shaken and crushed all cultures and societies that had any difference to themselves...
Triclops had seen the desolation of the Death Star. He'd heard of the Tradgedy of Alderaan. He'd seen the Terrors at Hongor. He'd seen the Desolation on Duro.
Triclops had even been personally subjected to the pain of war time and violence, first-hand. He'd been scarred by a whip, and mangled by Dark Side electricity. He'd been burned by acid and flame, he'd been bruised and beaten by harsh weather and rock. He'd suffered the many grievences that many other families against the Empire had been privy to.
The weapons of war had taken his poor Kendalina away.
When he was brought into the Rebel Base as a prisoner, nothing had changed- whatever their motives, reasons, justifications were, they still carried weapons, and still used them to destroy and kill. Even if they had morals and a sense of decency, death was still death.
War was still war.
Yet now, Triclops was alone, hiding in the thickest of the tropical trees, before he crawled out at the sound of something like thunder.
And then he saw them- the bursts of colorful light and fire in the sky. Starships were flying overhead, shooting off rockets and sparks, which blew apart in the air, making such noise and beautiful display...
Triclops smiled.
It made him so happy to see the genius work of those machines to be used for something wonderous as these... and not for death...