Part One: Coruscant

I was Queen then,

When my people were forced to suffer.

I was Queen then,

When only I was their liberator.

I was Queen then,

When I stopped my planet's oppression.

I was Queen then,

I am Senator now.

I

Years have passed since my reign as Queen of Naboo ended. Ten years to be exact. And still, not a day goes by when I do not think of what had happened to my people and me those ten years ago.

I see their faces. Everyone—every night when I go to bed. Some nights I'll see Qui-Gon Jinn, the Jedi Master who gave his life at the expense of my people. Other nights, I'll see the faces of Viceroy Gunray, the Nemodian who caused my people so much suffering. How I wish I could have been there for his trials in the courts.

It does not matter where I sleep, when I sleep, or the amount of security that is protecting me while I sleep, I still dream of the events that have become nothing more than aged memories now.

I wonder if these dreams will ever go away. I wonder if I will ever dream about anything or anybody else.

The dreams that hurt the most are the ones that involve my parents. I fight with myself to hold back the tears whenever I think of what they had to endure. Their only concern was that I was safe. But in a palace full of guards, with six women who take my identity for such occasions, I am not the one whose safety was in question.

I felt such guilt during the invasion of Theed. I had to stand and watch from the safety of the palace as battalions of Federation droids marched their way into my streets. It killed me to think that I got away while others—like my parents—were stuck on the planet. Sent to camps. Sent to suffer. Sent to die.

During the invasion, I struggled to accept the fact that just because I was Queen and had a title, I was spared from harm. I was rescued from invasion. I was sent to the capitol.

I would have much preferred to stay on Naboo and suffer with my people as the governors did. They understood the despair. They understood the pain.

The guilt ate at me while I sat in the starship, wasted weeks on the desert planet, all to make a pathetic case before the Senate.

It was not right. It was not fair.

To this day I still hear myself during that session of Congress.

"I was not elected to watch my people suffer and die while you discuss this invasion in a Committee." I boomed out across a mixture of cheers and jeers from the representatives.

They did not know the horror of what the Trade Federation was doing to my people, my home, and my life. They did not see the tragedy as I have. They did not see their families being marched away to camps and forced into poverty by the Federation army. This was no longer a simple matter of a legal blockade. This was a takeover, an illegal invasion.

It took a lot for me to keep my composure as I stood there representing an oppressed people. I wanted so badly to scream out in rage at the Trade Federation representative who interrupted me, unable to accept his system's illegality and unlawful ways.

The decision for me to return to Naboo was easier than it was to leave my home in the first place. Senator Palpatine and the Jedi warned me that the Federation had every intention of destroying me, but I could not sit back any longer. I could not keep running, hiding, watching, and waiting for a salvation to happen on its own. I needed to be their salvation. I needed to be their Queen.

Looking back, the Federation invasion had a profound effect on our planet's history. It united two divided people, the Naboo civilians and the Gungans. We were no longer a people separated by land and sea. It is wonderful. It is inspiring.

I hope that I have inspired people. I hope that my reign as Queen will not be remembered as the period of invasion and poverty, but as the age of hope. I hope my reign and my efforts to save my people have brought us all closer together. I can feel it. I can see it. I want to believe it.

However, recently there has been such unrest throughout the Republic. We are becoming a divided people. So many Systems are leaving—or threating to leave—the Republic for unspecified reasons. These departures are no peaceful matters, either. There has been more bloodshed in the past few years over these systems giving intentions to leave the Republic than I've ever seen traveling around the Galaxy.

Chancellor Palpatine, leader of the Galactic Republic, is an old friend. He served as my ambassador and Senator of Naboo during my terms as Queen. He knows me well. He knows how passionate I feel about diplomacy and keeping the Republic peaceful. However, as a leader, his grip on diplomacy is questionable, lately.

Amid the trend of Separatist departures from the Republic, the remaining Systems are becoming just as violent and divided within each other. A number of them want to push for the creation of an army the Republic can use for protection against these fallen systems, while the other Systems, Naboo included, firmly stand of the position that we do not need an army to settle these conflicts. We think diplomacy and negotiations can put a sufficient end to this dispute.

Eventually, it was decided that there would need to be a vote on the issue—something to decide whether we settle this by force or by negotiations. I've worked for years to end this Military Creation Act when it was first proposed in the Senate as a bill. I need to vote against it. The Republic needs to vote against it.

We come out of hyperspace and the glimmering capitol expands rapidly, taking over most of my view. It's funny how the twinkling, circular city patterns are always lit up and flickering with life. Even though I know it is daylight somewhere, it looks like perpetual nighttime over Coruscant from out here.

Our ships fly in sync. The two small, yellow Naboo Fights keeping close to the majestic chrome Cruiser as is slices through space and into the atmosphere.

It strikes me that there is not much traffic visibly entering or exiting the system as far as I can see. The ominous silence begins to worry me. I told Captain Typho that additional security would be unnecessary. I hope to not be proven wrong.

Soaring down into the atmosphere I think not only of being here, but also more importantly of the reason why I've returned. The Republic wants this army to fight our enemies. However, I firmly believe, deep down, that fighting is not the solution to this. The creation of an army will only invite the Separatists to open fire, creating bloodshed and war.

Once again, I'm the pacifist. I'm the Senator. I'm the savior. I'm the twinkle of hope for those who will not be able to defend themselves once the armies touch their home front.

I've been so nervous during this flight not only for the voting concerns, but also for the safety of my crew and myself to make it to the Capitol in one piece. Just because I saved a planet and its people, doesn't mean everyone idolizes me or make me immortal. In fact, the events that happened to Naboo ten years ago have probably created more enemies for me than I've ever had before.

Captain Typho thinks that for my protection I need these escort ships and that I should take advantage of every precaution necessary. I'm already using decoys. I'm already utilizing Naboo Fighters. I'm already in hiding.

I knew that choosing a side against the Military Creation Act would generate more enemies for me. Ever since the Federation's invasion of Naboo, I had to accept the fact that some would go to radical measure to make sure I did not speak out in the Senate. The issue of Military Creation was exactly that opportunity. Extreme measures were taken to make sure I traveled safely and got to my destinations with ease. However, now that it was actually time to vote on the issue and hundreds of Senators would be coming in and out of the Capitol, maybe Captain Typho was right. Maybe more guns were pointing at me now than ever before.

I notice my thoughts turn rather intense and dark when I delve into these parts of my mind. Flight and space does this to me; it makes me see troubling things as a whole, board picture. It makes me see the negative sides of my duty. My parents have no need to travel. They never see these depths of the galaxy. They never have to think these grim thoughts. Perhaps it has something to do with literally viewing the dark depths of space, or the view of an entire system as it grows and takes over my vision before my eyes. It really puts perspective on the dependency and fragility of life.

I still think about Master Qui-Gon. I think about my parents. I think about the Viceroy. Tonight, in my sleep, I'll see them all again as the Jedi try to protect me again, my parents endure suffering for me again, and the Viceroy try to kill me again.

The details of the major cities come into view as our entourage of Naboo ships soar closer to our misson, to the Chancellor, and into the cloudy abyss that waits for us.