Queen Namari

Gungans. The ever silly, non serious, non interventionists. Who, much like the previous governments of Naboo, had let themselves and their military power erode to such a level that they had been little other than a fodder to feed the flames of a sith killing rampage. She had never much liked them, their few interactions with delegates before the destruction had left a sour taste in her mouth. But still, they were a people that needed help. And unknown millions had died in their underwater cities. She nodded to her advisor and smiled wanly. “Yes I will see them as soon as they are ready, if they would wish to join me as I observe training of the royal guards, that would be most expedient. Contracts that pass your purview I will sign off on, and as for resources to replace the core, there is likely little to be done. We can set up normal fusion reactors alongside the reconstruction, I have no doubt the asteroid fields in this system can provide enough ore for the meantime. Military buildup must take a priority alongside the reconstruction. We can delay the rebuilding of any royal household palaces until after the general populace has homes, and we have weapons enough to defend our homeland.” She gestured to the man in white. “Though we are unlikely to encounter any full fledged Sithlings on this first outing, I would like instruction of my men in the art of killing force users. There are several hundred soldiers awaiting orders on the training field if you would so wish to begin. I will observe and partake if I have the time beside the dreary affairs of state.”

With all political action there was risk. One huge misstep and her visions of a united Naboo would falter and fall. She could not afford this to go wrong. But there was no other option. She could not keep the man starved and imprisoned forever. She could not order his execution. There was no such function on Naboo yet. She had no doubt that there would be a stir in some sectors of society, but others would likely see this as a great redemption. An arc that spanned hundreds of generations, and the first strike against the Sith. The great Sith assassin had bowed his head before the throne of Naboo. And what better story could be told in the mythos of a kingdoms creation. And she would not ever turn this rabid dog against those who opposed the Sith. He would be used as an instrument of divine punishment for the Sith. Or he would disappear during the first mission and never be seen again. Which was more likely. Plus with the influx of armed mercenaries and soldiers into the Naboo Sector, she would be protected. “Prepare your mission, and let me know what resources you may need.” She turned to Esmernia and gave her an apologetic smile. “Now where were we my friend? Some dignataries needed a visit?”

She looked again to her friend Esmernia, seeing if there was any indication on suggested course of action. But this was something that only the Queen of Naboo could decree. Their society had no death penalty, they had no decrees for war, no punishments outlaid for dealing with an assassin. An oversight by previous queens more obsessed with galas and the like instead of a proper rule of law. If she could have her own way, a simple blaster bolt to the temple would end the threat of the man in white. But that would be murder through and through. A step that she was not likely to take. He was a combatant in a war that was not yet finished. And he had much to teach their young society about the ways of Sith Warfare. The first step to this man’s redemption was an act of trust. Perhaps a foolish act, and if it ended in her untimely death then her people would learn of some violent prison escape that had claimed the life of their dear queen. If it went the way she hoped, then the Naboo had gained a powerful weapon, and an opportunity to redeem a man long fallen. “I hear there are some great numbers of them still living on Onderon. And whispers from the Alliance of other small kingdoms among the ruins of their mighty empire.” She put her hand forward and pressed her thumb against the lock on his cell. The silence was deafening as the lock unlatched, and the man in white was now completely free. But she was not afraid.

What a strange proposal, it was something that she should have foreseen, an easy way for the Sith to eventually escape bounds and service, if not use his sword to carve her in half without a second thought. She leaned against the bar’s crossbrace, letting her gaze take in fully the restrained Sith. His wounds were already healing, and she had no doubt in her mind that he could easily overpower everyone in the room and kill them without a blink. “A bound duty? Would you seek out and destroy those religious zealots of your own kind? Say to seek out and destroy those responsible for the destruction of my people where they now hide behind a curtain of cowardly smoke?” It was intriguing, but how could trust ever be won? Or could she do what the Jedi did not, and turn this evil corrupted thing into a vessel of light?

So the Alliance had done nothing at all to topple this order. So many had died. Her entire planet had been liberally scattered with sun nuclear munitions, half the population wiped out and the other half left to rot in their bubbled cities and the Sith Lords had fallen by accident or even worse by choice. The sith order and their galaxy spanning empire could not have just tripped and fallen on its own lightsaber because of a few selfish leaders. She wanted to reject its very premise. To spit in the face of the man that loomed over her and cry. But even in all his mockery she knew he was right. The Sith were gone. For now. Biding their time until peace made them weak. Until the fleets were reduced to balance a budget and standing armies disarmed in case of coup. A galactic cycle that had repeated every decade since the time of Queen Amidala. “Is that where I should send you then assassin? To the heart of Maw where mischance will pluck your life away from you? Where you can sit adrift for a millennia until hunger consumes you and you pluck out your own eyes to spite the madness? Where a master bides his time until we are weak again?”

She could not help a smile that crept up upon her lips, almost unbidden by his strange sense of humour. His subtle insults no doubt carried a heart of truth, and it was revealing more about the Sith Lords of Onderon than she had thought to get from this man. She would answer wit with wit. A talent she had found useful many times, including at the council meetings of the now Sovereign Alliance. “Honour is of very little use, yes. It serves them not at all in whatever afterlife or shadowlife they have stumbled into. No doubt you have some other great use for yourself after you die. Resurrect on Korriban as a regretful ghost to some tourist perhaps?” She looked up to his looming form, his eyes burning like a fading coal in a fireplace. He was a scary sight, and if she had not been sure of the Ysalamiri that covered his cell, she would have backed away from the bars. Instead, she brought her blaster level with his left knee cap and depressed the chromium trigger. It felt good in her hand, and the trigger broke with a surprising ease. Letting loose an emerald bolt and a familiar ‘wop’ of discharging tibanna gas. Its viridescent blast intending to shatter his knee. Sending a message that would not be misunderstood. “Then tell me where your remnants lay. Where your fleets sit in repair, and where your old masters lie in silence.”

She was very aware that men and women died in war, it seemed like the only thing that was ever actually accomplished in these galactic civil wars were that a trillion innocent people got their tickets punched too early. The Sith always led these great wars, they were harbingers of discord and this one was no different. His taunts turned her naturally soft smile into a frozen masque of calm. She would not take the bait, not here. The Sith were still lurking at the edges of the galaxy and that confirmed both her fears and steeled her resolve for the coming years. Naboo would not be such an easy target again. “The Jedi died well and honourably. More than I can say than most.” She looked back towards the Sith Lord. “It is always a masquerade with you Sith. So be nice and peel the mask away for me. Why retreat at the height of your power? What power struggle cut your legs from beneath you?”

There were a multitude of different interrogation techniques available for use against the Sith. Most included bravado, physical violence of some kind, or the application of a correct amount of lies and false truths. However, what was never recommended was showing abstract weakness to them. Which the blue coloured Twi’lek had just managed to do when she had arrived unbidden to the interrogation. Had she not had a lifetime of royal training to confine her spirit, the young queen would have told the Twi’lek to leave and compose herself that instant. But it was too late, and the Sith had already perceived her weakness. Such creatures sup from tears and weakness like an alcoholic suckles greedily from his morning elixir. She gave her a quizzical glance and let one of her fine eyebrows raise in a questioning air. “I am glad I survived as well Esmer, and the Gungans can wait. They waited when I called them for aid and paid a princely sum for that. Perhaps they can be reminded that their place is not in aloof isolation.” She turned her head at the sound from the Sith Lord. She was tired, and his mocking tone grated on her ears. “You killed many fine men and women Sith. You lost. Though I must question if all of you are gone or are simply waiting for another galactic lull to emerge from your filthy dens. Is that why you are trying to destabilise our nation by killing its queen?” She held out her blaster pistol and pointed it towards his kneecap from behind the bars of his cell. "Answer quickly, I have gungans to attend to.”

Anne batted away tears as fast as she could and dried her eyes with the back of her hand. There was a flash of anger behind her eyes as an unknown man holding a heavy blaster rifle kneeled before her. A spiteful “A little too much a little too late”. Crawled its way out of her mind and almost made its way out of her mouth before she bit it back and gave him a half curtsie. “Your services will be much appreciated as we begin our rearmament.” She gestured to the ruins of the city around them. “We will never stand for this to be done to us again.” They would become the premier forces for this new government, all prior commitments to a peaceful Naboo be damned. She looked down to the Sith and saw his eyelids flutter. She gestured to the royal guards. “Get that blasted Ysalamir now, he’s waking up!” They hurried off after the previous group that had been sent after one, and quickly returned at double their pace. Carrying one of the strange lizards in its wooden cage. When it came close she almost fell, a strange sense of tiredness fleeting over her body. But it would keep them safe for the moment, and the moment was all that mattered. She could rest her tired body after the interrogation. Together, her and the Sith Lord and the guards that carried him, made their way to the small brig that remained on the Mon Calamari Vessel. Sealing him away behind a mass of Durasteel and under the protection of the Ysalamari. She sat upon a chair outside the cell and waited for him to awake.

The man in white seemed unstoppable. His great sword carved effortlessly through Darkfire. The young man’s silver lightsaber shutting off as it fell from his hands to the blood soaked earth. An earth that seemed to tremble with a localized earthquake that smote the footing from under Namari and she landed heavily on her back as the man in white carved through her last true defence. The Sovereign Knight’s saber pike missed her mark, and with a twist of the greatsword another life was snatched away before the Queen’s eyes. Another brave hero martyred by the evil of the Sith. She could have died there on the cold blood soaked ground. She likely would have had the man in white not stumbled. A nanosecond of opportunity, and she brought the pistol up again and depressed the chromium trigger. A bright lancet of green energy snapped into his stomach while two more red bolts dashed into his back. A sound like the breaking of ice shattered into her skull and she fired again. He stumbled, his frozen boots tripping over the corpse of the Sovereign Knight. Then he fell. His body hitting the ground with a crush of ice. She looked up from where she lay to the only other two living people on the landing pad. They looked just as shocked and horrified as she knew she looked. She shakily stood and walked over to the man in white, holding her blaster pistol before her like it would ward off whatever he might have had in store next. From a glance, he was still breathing and she bounded forward and jammed the blaster pistol into the back of his neck and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The gun did not react except for hiss where its hot barrel was burning the back of his neck. She looked up to her men then stood. Letting the blaster fall from her hand to sizzle on the blood soaked ground. She felt like she wanted to cry. To grab her utility knife from its sheath and jab it into the assassin’s neck and wash her hands in his blood. But there were people watching, and intel was valuable. She took a shaky breath to halt the potential flow of tears and gestured to the multiple bodies that lay scattered in a small semi circle around the gravel pad. “Check if they are dead. Get medical on site now to make sure.” But a glance told her the truth. “And get a Ysalamir from the royal armoury. We have work to do.” But what was that sound? A roaring in her ears, distant at first but now almost drowning out her words. The crowds of civilians and soldiers were running towards them and they were… Cheering? The tears came then. Warm tears that bubbled down her face, tracing clear lines through blood, grit, and frost. Tears for friends, fear, and relief. The Naboo were finally free

Oh how her heart raged with the fight. The battle moved faster than she would have ever realised. Death whirled between its intercessors, as fast as any man she had ever seen move. Faster than the Solleu during summer monsoon, fighting with all its hideous strength to overcome its banks and bathe Theed in mire and ruin. How often had her mother warned her of the speed of its currents during the summer rains? A shout of warning from the man beside her. A blink and the assassin in white was upon them. His scarred and terrible fist searching for her, seaking her heart as if to tear it out of her chest before the throngs of spectating and horrified onlookers and aid workers. What a victory it would be to put a queen down before her people. Who would stand to take her place? No longer were there lists upon lists of ladies in waiting, cadets, or other young women searching for the crown. No. If she died here her people would forever wallow in their defeat. Begging for return to the pacifism that led them to the destruction of their sacred city. Begging for the boot of the Sith to forever remain upon their necks. Thanking them for the privilege of the grovelling. Anne could feel herself getting shoved from the side by her guard and she hit the ground hard. Tucking her arms enough to come back into a crouch as another man died where she should have. A brave man. His leather impact vest, though useful against low power blaster bolts, slug throwers, and bladed weapons, was not rated for a punch from a powerful Sith Lord. The leather split like the rind of a Muja fruit, peeling back layer by layer to expose the flesh underneath. First came the leather, made from processed Moroi fish leather, hardened, and combined under the immense weight of a heavy press. Next came Duraplast and thranai cotton weave manufactured in a plant that had long since rotted away after the bombardment of theed. In that way, at least, the uniform and heraldry of the royal guards were relics. A touchstone to an age that no longer existed. An age of peace instead of war. A relic which was now combined with the blood and flesh of a martyr. As fist drove its way through sternum, lungs, organs, and at last spinal column. Exploding a red viscera out of the other side. It was horrible to watch. He died instantly enough and crumpled forever onto the ground of his ruined city, without a word or gripe to spit into the sand. Another brave man slain in the war against the Sith. Anne could hear herself howl in anger. She could taste his blood on her lips as she stood like a pier in the middle of the mighty Solleu. Though the waves may wash over her, though the tides may rise. She would stand. Her people would stand. There was no retreat. Her people had tamed the river before. They had bounded the river to her banks, guiding its destructive power to their own ends. They had regulated flow from the glaciers, stopping forever the type of destruction she had been known for when the planet was young. No longer did they fear the rising summer monsoon. The Naboo had tamed the great river, and so too would they tame the man in white. She brought the bloody pistol up again, and with her two remaining men fired at the man until their pistols glowed a white hot. ((3)) ((good duel, thank you for the opportunity))

Oh how this creature moved! Even after a hit of the green fire he continued to move without a pause. His steps fluid and bounding as the waves that crested the banks of the Solleu. His tunic the colour of its waterfalls that cascaded down the cliffs of the Virdugo. Like the river itself, there was beauty there in his steps. But where the river was serene in its heights and lows, the man carried a feral ferocity. Where the Solleu trickled and bubbled in harmony with nature, he stood out in jarring discordance. Marring beauty with every footfall. Perhaps, she thought, that was a definition of the darkside itself. An aberration of the beautiful. Taking what could have been and turning it upon itself. Taking good intentions, hopes, dreams, and turning them to a wickedness that Anne herself could not fully comprehend. Her heart could feel the heaviness of the evil that was embodied in the man. It beat in the rhythm of war, thundering like the mandalorian drums that had echoed on Nar Shaddaa in her ears. The same drums had never stopped their noise, even as the heavens fell. But now he came for them like an assassin in white. The embodiment of everything they had fought for in the last years. He moved past Darkfire like a bolt of dreadful lightning. And Anne could feel herself gasp in horror. He would roll up her scattered line like a flanking cavalry charge in all those light holo-novels she had read. “Get a clear line of fire!” Her men began to move, changing from a scattered line to reverse into a ‘V’. But the first in their line was not fast enough. The blade tore through him. The brutal sword cutting the man wholly in half and with enough momentum to spin him around as his two halves hit the compacted dirt and dust. Blood span in an arc that washed over Anne like a torrent of mid summer rain. The brave man would never rise again and lay there in an expanding pool of blood. His blaster firing meaninglessly into the dirt as he struggled to breath against lungs that were half torn away. Would he have met his wife that he had not heard from since the invasion? Was she one of the horrified faces that stared at the combat with open mouths? He tried to look up, to see anything but the grime and the dirt. To see that lovely face. The face he had loved since they were in the Kalanthin school together. What was the last meal they had shared? Something thrown together the night before the invasion. They had slept in separate rooms that night, hot words had turned to a fight. The last words he had ever said to her. Words of passion over something stupid that he would give anything and everything he owned to take back. “I’m sorry.” Was the only thing that he could mutter as he struggled to breath. “Gods I am so sorry.” He whispered into the sand as the edges of his vision turned black as night. Death welcomed him with the arms of his wife. A scream turned to a smile, and he was gone. A death in the final fight against the evil that had plagued their world. Anne cried out and took a deliberate jump back as the Sovereign Knight intercepted a blow that was very likely next meant for her. The rest of her three men moving to get out of the sword’s long reach, bringing their blasters to bear on the melee. One stayed by the queen, while the rest pushed forward to outflank the man in white. They did not need to be told when to fire, choosing their few shots when they presented themselves. Anne herself took a step to the side. Bringing the blaster up again to fire at the man’s side from a scant three meters away. Her green blaster bolt joining the clash of white, red, and ice black. ((2))

A squad of the royal guards converged onto the landing zone, looking as regal as their positions portrayed. Ceremonial leather impact resistant cuirasses over jumpsuits the colour of sun dried flax, each carrying an updated model Theed Arms S-5 heavy blaster pistol. Carrying the blasters at low ready, the squad of four took up positions beside their queen. Still confused as any non force user at the approach of the unknown man, but reading the body language of the situation, they were ready to fight and if need be die for their queen. Though their presence was still a comfort, Anne did not see an easy way out for their little band. The subject was unknown, obviously a being of unknown power, and one confident enough to confront two well grown force users and herself in the open. That fist around her heart collapsed a bit more, the dead weight of evil turning to a shiver of cold. As if reacting to the mist of cold breathing off the man himself. But there was something else there. A desire in herself that called to her. She almost smiled at Aidan’s attempt at humour, and felt a slight tick of warmth from the effort. It spoke to his bravery, though she hoped it was not overconfidence that made such a remark. The Knight made her attempt at deescalation next, but Anne knew it would be of little help. She took a breath. Her hearing becoming as thunderous as the mandalorian war drums as her heartbeat hammered behind her eyes. If this had not been on Naboo she would have demanded the being surrender. Depart from their presence and never return like Pandora had asked. But they were here. In the ruins of her city. The city that for three thousand years had been the heart of her people. A city that had been lain to ruins. The blood of its innocents ground into the gravel that he dared to walk on. Bodies of its children left to rot under the clear blue sky as a celebration of violence engorged itself around them. No there would be no negotiation. She could taste the copper of that blood. She could smell the rot. Why should he be granted the ability to walk away when so many innocents did not? He did not deserve the honour to walk under their sky. Down came her thin hand. Up came the silver blaster pistol. Green spat like fire from its beautiful carved design. And one blast of white-hot energy swam through the evening air towards the Sith Lord. Her soldiers scattering into a staggered line on either side of their queen. Adding their own red lasers to the mix. For the Sith had started this war. And Naboo would finish it. ((1))

What was that feeling? It was not an unfamiliar feeling, a mix of apprehension and a dull repressed dread that clamped like a vise around her heart. It harkened in her memory back to the hours before the destruction of Theed. Those harrowing hours in which the blades of Jedi and Sith clashed and she had been hunted through the streets by cohorts of the sith lords. But surely they had been defeated? Had not countless thousands given their lives to rid the galaxy of those snakes? Her heartbeat began to speed up as she walked in the shadow of the Jedi Knight and when he started to act, the prickling of unease suddenly erupted like a storm at the back of her neck. Fears were being confirmed enmass in her mind, and she knew the time to stand strong was now. She had fled and hid before. Leaving her friends, family, and subjects to burning ruin. Never again. With one hand she unclasped the cloak that had been covering her for their long journey and threw it aside, Revealing her tunic of sovereign burgundy. The sunlight catching the metal of the crown that sat upon her golden hair. She had no weapons save the silver blaster pistol that sat daintily on her hip which she did not draw. Fear was for the weak. She took a step forward, past Aidan and the Sov Knight, to stand in front of them like a true queen from the elder days of Naboo might have done. A beacon against the pallor of fear that had filled the ruined city. A fire against the sudden chill. She was glad that Aidan had cleared the area. “Show yourself spectre.”

The Mon Calamari cruiser emerged from hyperspace over the once crown jewel of the Chommell sector. Looking from one of the large, bubble-like space facing viewscreens, Anne could not even tell there had been so much destruction on her planet. In the many months since, seasonal rains had likely restored much of the scorched grasslands back to their original ecology. The forests would take time, and the magnificent granite buildings even more time. Decades even, before the last stains of the Sith could be washed from the planet’s surface. And what of the Gungans? Those guileless fools, much like the human population of Naboo, had done little to earn the wrath of the Sith Empire. But still they had suffered. Killed by their tens of thousands in their underwater cities. Entire biomes left to fallow tens of kilometers below the surface as decomposing bodies made for rich pools of bacterial growth. At least until the backup generators failed, and the cities were eaten by the oceans en mass. She blinked away a tear at the thought, sorrow turning to a bright pang of anger as the starship made its descent towards what had used to be the grand city of Theed. Chunks of granite pockmarked the countryside, pieces of facade and walkways embedded into the soft turf from where they had been thrown by whatever evil that had destroyed the city. Hundreds of thousands had died in a single blow by the Sith Empire. People that had only ever desired peace. Never again. Anne would never let them be at the mercy of the galaxy's whims again. She felt her hands shaking with the strength of her anger as she stepped foot down the long ramp towards where the first few refugee camps were being set up. She gestured to the ruins to both Pandora and Aidan as they walked. “The result of being lenient. Of relying solely on others for your defense. A lesson harshly learned.” And a lesson that would never be forgotten.

The Ohma-Rune, a heavily modified old model Mon Cal Cruiser sat on its support dock, its several hundred meter long hull bristling with oddly fitted cargo containers, looking like a white painted mountain covered with hover speeders and men loading cargo. The large red coloured cross that covered the majority of the empty hull space indicated that the ship was not in any way a combat vessel, though three of Naboo royal starfighter squadrons would be flying cover for the mission. As the Queen and the Knight walked towards the loading platform which was already crowded with refugees, she heard a familiar voice cry out from behind her. She turned about and saw the face of the dashing Imperial Knight she had accompanied to Ylesia not a few weeks before. She felt a wide smile cross her face as she waved to him and gestured with a hand for him to join the two of them. She resisted the desire to give him a hug and simply gave him a grin of welcome which was decidedly more Queenlike. Even if it did expose her relative lack of years. “We are heading back to Naboo, I am fine, miss Maximus has taken care of me.” She laughed at the thought of it, then pointed to the ramp that stretched into the behemoth of a ship. “I am hoping we can make ample progress in rebuilding our world, if you would like to join me.” She smiled again, feeling a bit of hope start to creep into her voice. “I know it wont be the most interesting mission a Jedi Knight has ever been on, but who knows, the Sith could be lurking in the ruins of my peoples homes.” ((Lets head to Naboo))

It felt like her heart would burst with the swarm of emotions that bubbled and struck against her in that moment. Anger was foremost though fading fast, shame at how she had acted, and remorse besides. There was little to be said about her regret other than an apology, which the Miraluka deserved. Though perhaps her words had been careless, they had not meant to hurt, and the queen felt the color of shame flush onto her face and she lowered her head. “I would be grateful for your help Knight. There is much to do and it was foolish of me to spit in your face with such spite.” Here she lowered her head even more. “Please forgive me for such foolishness.” There was a ship waiting them that would take the scattered remnants of the Naboo royal household and the starfighter corps back to their home world. It was nearly time to go, and the queen was grateful to have the Knight alongside her.

It would be rude and undiplomatic for Anne to answer the Imperial Knight with what she really felt, but it would no doubt be boiling off of her like the steam from one of the many water purification plants that had been set up in the camp. Something she knew well? A genocide almost five kriffing thousand years ago? A mass murder by a force user against active combatants which had rallied to fight him. How could this woman walk beside her and claim any relevance or knowledge of what it felt like to have everything ripped away from you. A deep knowledge that she herself had been placed in charge of millions, and had let them down? A nation was destroyed, a people scattered to the winds and enslaved. And what hope was there in the Miralukan story? That maybe five thousand years later her people could be eeking out their miserable refugee lives? Claiming that the only reason they had not repopulated their world yet was because of some big meany sith lord? Letting the course of the galaxy steer their direction as the eons ticked down into oblivion. What an absolutely horrid and hopeless outlook for the naboo people. At least bring up something recent like Alderaan, whose people had actually gone on to do something with their lives. No, there was no inspiration to be found in Pandora’s words. So Anne gave her the only response she could muster. A half turned scowl that made her pale and youthful face flush with a mix of anger and resentment. She took a breath and muttered a thank you that was very far from heartfelt.

There was something inherently off putting about the Miraluka. It was not some irritation or disgust, but the certain reality of not being able to see where their gaze landed, which gave them that special air of superiority that their kind were well known for. Most had been enticed into the arms of the Jedi order, their number remaining very small and their enclaves shrinking all the more as time finished the job the Sith had tried to accomplish four thousand years before. The rigours and expense of jedi life draining away potential that could have been used to save a species all the more in need of refreshment. How one had been enticed into the arms of the Imperial Remnant, Namari would never know. Perhaps it was a sign of that great schism that had taken place at the resurgence of the Sith on the outer rim, where many Jedi had left the order to follow Raven Zinthos in her personal crusade. The age was right, maybe she had been an apprentice at the time? Namari could not tell, but she could feel a gladness in her own heart at the sign of one of the great Jedi aligned species of the galaxy wearing the colours of the Remnant. It spoke both to the vitality of the new Knightly order, and the bitter stagnation of the old. High towers of ivory had tumbled and fallen, both on Naboo and in the Jedi Enclaves. Where now were the heroes of peace? Her heart yearned for the long series of holoshorts she had consumed in her young childhood. Names she had memorized in the diplomatic training. Where now lay the grave of Trevelian? Of Starlisk and Raikanda? Buried in the ruins of their fallen temple. Their ashes joining those countless trillions as Hesperidium fell. Where now the great ladies of the Jedi? Xae-Lin, Jaina Jade, and Skye? Lost in the storms of Onderon as the hopes of the Galactic Alliance fell around them. Other names also came over her as her memories filtered through long forgotten memories- The Queen blinked as the Miraluka spoke to her. She could feel a blush rise quickly to her pale cheeks and she grinned shyly. There was nothing to be lost in speaking openly. “I am afraid there will be a lot of work ahead of us all before my people can consider themselves free. Many lessons to be learned, and a strong hand to guide them. I fear I might not have such a will to see it through.”

The practice saber cut a long furrow through the wooden target. The white training saber burning and singing the carved edges of the target, enough heat to char, but not ignite. Though she did not doubt the ability of such a saber, labeled training as it was, to cause enough damage to harm or even kill someone if applied to, say, an eyesocket. She finished the long cut exercise and deactivated the saber, clicking it back into place on her belt before she left the training arena. A quick sanisteam, and she selected a deep purple Jumpsuit to replace her white training tunic. She made sure the insignia of the royal house of Naboo was visible on the epaulets, then she placed the thin crown back upon her head. It was not the royal crown itself, that had been long lost alongside the royal palace, but it was enough to denote her importance and rank should someone need her. No one usually did. Naboo was a dead planet as far as many were concerned. And though it was a beautiful one, expending resources to retake a vacation world was not the top priority of the new Galactic Government. So she continued to wander through the camp.

Naboo’s young queen gave a quick curtsy in response to the Barabel’s mentioning of her. She had redressed into the dark brown form fitting fatigues of the Naboo royal starfighter corps, the only thing distinguishing her from the few officers around her was the thin crown of gold that sat lightly upon her head. When it was her turn to speak she took it, standing as tall as she could among the much older crowd of military officers. It was time to use the skills she had honed during her training to become the symbolic queen of the Naboo. ‘Sir Longfang, honorable members of the Alliance, the horrors that the innocents of my planet endured at the hands of the Sith was only an echo of what a hundred planets before us experienced. Even Onderon, which was their beachhead into the core worlds experienced civilizational disaster. Its meager government and monarchy overthrown and murdered. Then too Carida, Kashyyyk, Chandrillia, Coruscant itself, and now Nar Shaddaa. All have faced the utter destruction of the Sith. All have suffered from the utter weakness of the Galactic Alliance and its failure to protect its citizen worlds.” Her gray eyes scanned the many officers from both the Imperial Remnant and the GA that stared back at her. There would be time to harang the demons of democracy in the future. But it was not yet the time. “We cannot afford to be so weak again. For the Sith have not gone for good.” She was speaking mainly from feeling, and there was a part of her that they had not seen the last of the Dark Side. There was no time to rejoice. For the next war would be around the corner. “They drove the knife into our Rebellion, yet they did not spend their utter reserves of strength. Where was their Dark Lord? Was he not a king of shadow and deceit? We must act on the assumption that they will return, and stronger than before. Like a cancer that has not been fully cut out, it will spread and grow again, until it returns from its shadow, unlooked for and stronger than before. Naboo will never again be so weak as we once were. We will be the bulwark of the Galactic South and root out the darkside from our lands. Root and stem.” Gone was the peaceful democratic monarchy of Naboo. Warlord, and absolute tsarist autocracy would replace it. Strength instead of weakness. A lesson learned in the fires of the Sith.

Well the robes were definitely ruined. She shuffled through her duffel sack to find another outfit and saw another bloodstained set of light linen. The same she had been wearing when she had met the Mandalore. The memory causes a shiver to run up her spine. But regrettably the gown was ruined, and she tossed the bundle into the trash receptacle. She did not throw away the dark brown fatigues of the Naboo Royal Starfighters however, and packed them with care into where the collection of dresses once had been in the duffle bag, before donning the light grey tunic that she had been provisioned. She pulled her soft leather boots on, wrapped her torso with the flightbelt she had been wearing for the last week and a half, and placed the gold circlet on her brow. Within a few minutes she was in the designated place her new master had required her to be. She took a seat on the bench and waited.

Anne took an involuntary step back when the Jedi master turned the hug into a quick kiss. It was something so incredibly intimate that she felt out of place to be standing so close to the two almost legendary figures. She knew the woman by reputation more than name, her pretty blonde face had been all over the imperial war holos in the early stages of the war. Having been one of the few jedi to actually fight the Sith menace in the outer rim. And Aidan she had a deep respect for, he had come from a long family tradition of warfare, and he carried the familial scars of such an ancestry close to his skin. So the queen of Naboo looked politely away from the two warriors in their embrace. Wishing instead that she was with the two of them with lightsabers blazing, cutting the hearts out of the Sith Lords who had desecrated her planet. In good time perhaps. In good time. She looked up to the two of them as they walked towards the Barracks. “I look forward to it, Master.” She stopped infront of one of the very empty refresher units and looked back to the two of them. “See you soon.”

Anne glanced up from her patient and gave the Imperial Knight a weary smile. It was not an ungrateful smile, just the smile of someone who was glad but also realizing that a long day was now going to become a hell of a lot longer. She tied off the bandage then gave him a crisp military salute. He was, after all, her superior in the armed forces of the Rebel Alliance and with the massive casualties in the command chain, he could be considered the highest level officer in the medical zone. “Well, Corporal Namari of the Naboo Defense Forces reporting for duty Commander Darkfire.” She shrugged at him after lowering the salute. “I was under general orders of the ground defense forces as a Medical Corporal in echo sector, so the commander would have been Blythe sir.” But Blythe had been shot through the head not five steps from her when the Sith Marines had landed at the Red and Black. So there was really no one to ask. She glanced again at his wounds and frowned. “We might want to get someone other than myself to look at that, I hear there is a renowned healer in that zone sir.” She gestured several hundred meters away towards where a group of refugees were clustered around a sandy haired Jedi in a tattered green tunic.

It seemed that even the force bowed to the will of the government bureaucracy. Something that prickled a slight irritation at the black haired imperial knight in the back of her head. But she was tired, and pretty much everything irritated her. And as the evacuation shuttle touched down, she gave him a nod of approval. “Well I will be here in and around the medical zone until the provisional government gets put back together. So look me up if you have the time, or if you want to talk about life or something over an MRE.” She leant over the next patient and began her assessment.