Prolog

To: Mig, Head of Atlantan-Nabooese Network Intelligence (ANNI)

Cc: Robinson Jaoquam, Interplanetary Archives, Chairman; T'Laren, Prendi Library, Keymistress;

From: Ella Sainte-George, The Emissary

Subject: Events following Operation: Sojourner's Hope

Dear Sir and Madams:

It is my understanding that the events related to the successful Covert Operation: Sojourner's Hope have remained undisclosed to anyone spare those involved. To save the reputation of ANNI, this is partially due to my influence. I feel a certain compulsion, comprised partially of guilt, and partially a need to fulfill a promise, to make this story known. What you have received here is to remain under lock, key and surveillance for the next one hundred standard years, per wishes of the subjects.

This, ladies and gentleman, is the story of Guenevere Simon. The following is a short biography of her life for your reference. Some of this information is not contained in any database. Guenevere was the rape-child of Emperor Palpatine and Amidala of Naboo, and the first child of both. Her life has been an interesting one of intrigue, lies, and pain. She, and her mother, are natives of Atlantis, and the Force talents the Atlantans boast managed to keep both hidden from Palpatine after Guenevere's birth. As a babe, Guenevere was frozen in suspended animation, and did not begin the aging process until she was, chronologically, nine years old. It was thought that by that time, Palpatine might think her to be her mother's new husband's child. He was not, however, so easily fooled, and quickly realized she was his daughter. Guenevere's body was three by this time, and Amidala had had twins by her husband. Palpatine, despite the fact that this husband was now his apprentice Vader, had Amidala killed for her deception. Guenevere was forced to watch but escaped, due to the marvelous timing of two old friends.

She received training in both the Jedi and Atlantan arts, but knew that Palpatine still searched for her. She decided, once again, to enter suspended animation for the second time. During the next seventeen years, her mind somehow maintained conscious thought, and she used ancient Atlantan techniques to create illusions of herself to interact with people. She was unfrozen for a short time to receive more 'hands-on' training, but then in a spate of anger induced insanity, Guenevere made a reckless attempt to kill her father. He obligingly injured her terribly, and might have killed her, if not for the interference of Palpatine's apprentice, Darth Vader. Vader's unprecedented actions go unexplained to many to this day. He did not kill her as he was ordered to, but froze her for the third time, and then ejected the suspended animation pod into space to prevent Palpatine from discovering his betrayal.

Three days after the freezing, under Guenevere's mental influence, Vader did not kill his son, her half brother. He then committed the ultimate betrayal against his master, killing him. Vader in turn shortly died of the injuries he sustained in the assassination, never telling his son the reasons of his actions. The boy left with no knowledge of his half sister, but did know of his twin sister. Neither twin knew of the existence of, nor of their relationship to, a woman named Guenevere Simon, of the Lightner Clan.

Guenevere, ashamed she did not kill Palpatine but had effectively killed Vader, healed herself enough to live in suspended animation. She then projected her image through time in an attempt to reverse her mother's death, and keep Vader from being consumed by evil.

This attempt is said to be what caused Vader's turn of heart.

Her training was not wasted; she had previously discovered unknown things about the inner workings of the Universe, much to my irritation. She then, foolishly, used these insights in her attempt to alter time.

This attempt, of course, proved to be a mistake. In the midst of her ill-advised escapade, she did not realize was that the Universe has its Emissaries, and causes things to happen to the benefit of itself and all those residing in it. I was forced to keep her from completing the mission she had set out to do. Amidala died. The Universe remained the same.

But the I taught Guenevere that she could alter things drastically without such great personal cost. I had, and continue to harbor, the intention of helping her to do it, when the time is right. After years of adjustment and timing, with great effort, Guenevere contacted her mother's people. And they came.

But I am babbling. This is to be her story after these events. She asked me in particular to make this annal of history because I am the unknown observer (the Grand Fly On The Wall), the one who initiates all other Emissaries into my craft, and she who inspires Revolutions. Not just political ones, mind, but the ones in thought and the ones in society. It was my promise to help Guenevere tell her story, and I keep my promises, so this is what I give you: a construction of observations, foreseeings, and accounts of the characters appearing.

Enjoy!

Ella Sainte-George, The Emissary

Chapter 1

Welcome Home

"Ma'am," said the radio tech, turning and removing his headphones, "we have it."

Rabé's heart gave a lurch. Found it. After 7 months of searching, although Rabé was only present for the last three weeks, they had found it. Oh, my niece, to see you again. We thought you dead but you came to us…

The radio tech looked at her quizzically. "Ma'am?"

Rabé snapped out of her reverie. "Inform the Admiral of your discovery, crewman. She's the one running this operation."

The tech nodded. "Yes ma'am." He replaced his headphones and began speaking into the attached microphone.

Rabé buried herself in thought while she waited for Admiral Michaels. Guenevere had telepathically contacted her closest friends and relatives, and had informed them of her location and her wish to come home. She had also informed them of her declining medical condition, and that she was borrowing the energy of those she knew best in order to survive to the time of rescue. Rabé had chosen not to ask precisely how she was able to do this. The telepathic message she had received in her sleep had been terrifying enough, and she wasn't sure that Guenevere had sufficient energy to spare to answer her questions. A rueful smile nearly touched her lips in memory to the response of the message. At first she had thought it was a dream, but she shortly received a visit from Ilo and Paul, who had apparently had their own terrifying dreams. Quickly they had realized it was the same dream and that in all likelihood, their niece being who she was, it was probably a message of true importance. Further contact with friends of her own and Guenevere's confirmed the 'all friends and relatives'. Among those contacted was Admiral Michaels.

Speak of the Devil. Here she is now. Admiral Frédériqué 'Rikki' Michaels had come out of the turbolift onto the bridge, hastily buttoning the jacket of her undress blues. She was the youngest admiral ever appointed, although she was not very high in the admirals' pecking order. Rikki still enjoyed flying with her elite starfighter squadrons, and refused to take more than three cruisers—what the military called big-ships— for her use. The higher ups in authority had agreed to fewer ships only because Rikki seemed to find trouble faster than a first year cadet, and they had decided that paying for three ships' damage was far better than paying for twelve. Rabé sighed. The undress blues were an act, she knew, because of the odd looks the crew gave the Admiral when she walked past them in the passageways. Rikki probably wore the blue, green, yellow, or red flightsuits her pilots wore, under ordinary circumstances. Rabé hoped that Rikki might grow out of her pilot "phase" someday but no signs had appeared yet. Ah, well. No use meddling, the girl played political games better than half of those on the Council itself. Such a waste of potential . . . Rabé shook herself. Rikki trained the best pilots in the Vulcan Alliance Military, and so long as Rikki didn't manage to get herself killed there was still plenty of time for her to get into the political arena when she grew up. If she grew up. But right now Rikki was debriefing the tech. Rabé leaned in to listen.

"It's directly off the port bow, ma'am," the tech was saying. "Long range sensors show that she's probably still alive…"

" I could have told you she was still alive," growled the Admiral. "Inform HQ that Stage 1 of Operation: Sojourner's Hope has been completed, and that Stage 2 is currently being carried out. Then put a tractor beam on that block and pull it into Bay 4. Get all medical personnel and the suspended animation people down there, and warn them they better be ready for anything." She looked aggressively at the tech. "One mishap, Iverson, and everybody loses shore leave. Capiche?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Rikki turned to her second, sending curling blonde hair swinging around her waist. "You have the bridge, Ms. Shaw. Please make things run smoothly."

Shaw smiled slightly at the faint plea in Rikki's eyes. "Yes ma'am."

Rikki gestured at the door of the turbolift. "After you, Aunt."

"Deck 4," Rikki told the turbolift.

Standing in the descending turbolift, Rikki regarded her aunt carefully. They were not related by blood at all, but Rikki's mother Yané had been handmaiden to the late Queen Amidala with Rabé. Rabé's once mahogany- brown hair was now completely gray, though she had given its original color to her only daughter, Cresska. Only daughters. It's like they obeyed Amidala even in the children they had. Somehow, most of the handmaidens had managed to have a single daughter, and had spread them out along the Atlantan and Nabooese hierarchy. Cousin Cress was the current Queen Iloana's handmaiden. In fact, most of the original handmaidens had managed to keep politically influential positions.

Rikki took the opportunity to get an elastic from her pocket and put her hair up. Dammit, why couldn't Auntie Ilo trust me to do this without supervision? The only reason she was wearing this over-starched blue front was because Aunt Rabé would tell Auntie Ilo if she wore what she usually did—the baggy flightsuit her pilots used. Even being called 'ma'am' was unusual; everyone except for newbie's called her Addie—short for Admiral. Either fact could prompt Auntie Ilo to do something drastic—like bring her back to HQ. Damn it for having her favorite aunt be Queen as well. Although, that probably gave me some leverage in getting this mission. By all rights, getting the late Queen Amidala's daughter out of hot water should have gone to someone far senior. Which was most likely why Rikki was stuck with nanny-Aunt Rabé. Damn, damn, damn.

The turbolift stopped. Rikki gestured at the open passageway before them.

"Shall we, Aunt?"

Rabé nearly flew down the passageway, her heart in her mouth. She scanned the labels on the doors, looking for Bay 4. Hangar 2, Maintenance, Storage — Botanicals, on a military ship? — . . . Bay 4! She turned quickly and entered the interlocking blast doors. Technicians, medics, doctors, and crewmen worked with astonishing efficiency and speed. Rabé looked out the open cargo bay doors, attempting to see the suspended animation pod.

"There," a voice said behind her, "It's right there, see?"

Rabé did now see, but she was not happy with who told her.

"Daemeon, how did you get here?"

"Well, lets see, I took the turbolift down the hallway…"

"Passageway. On a ship it's a passageway."

Daemeon smiled, white teeth flashing against his tea-brown skin. "Yes shrimati (he used the Hindu title for a married woman). I took the turbolift down the passageway up three levels from Deck 7 and walked down here. It was very simple, really."

"Well that's all very nice, dear, but what I actually wanted to know was how you knew to come here or that now was the time to come."

"Oh. I asked one of the docs who was running through the hall. I thought it was unusual, since he was one of the suspended animation shock specialists, and the only reason I could think for him to be running anywhere was if there was a big emergency. But I didn't feel many people in pain, so I had to assume it was the other reason he would be running, which was that we had found Shrimati…or is it Madame?… Guenevere."

Rikki was choking with suppressed laughter. "You have to admit, the kid can make logic trains."

"That is not, however, what I employ him for." Daemeon Gandhi's aptitude for politics and the Force had caught the attention of several high-ranking members of the Atlantan Lightner clan. They and Paul, Ilo's husband, had decided that the boy should see the real world for a little while, and Rabé had been more than pleased to offer her services as a mentor. She took Daemeon on as an unofficial apprentice, to teach him everything she knew about politics, negotiation, and diplomacy. With re-contact with the New Republic imminent, it was a good idea to have as many skilled politicians on your side as possible. What she had not realized what that the boy got into more trouble than Rikki, and talked twice as much. But he, like Rikki, had too much potential to throw away because of transitory annoyance to her.

"You may watch this, but don't get in anybody's way, all right?"

He nodded vigorously, sending black hair bobbing along his forehead. "Yes shrimati, I promise."

And here I was, thinking I was done with 12-year-olds after Rikki grew up. Figures.

But now they were pulling the pod into the bay, and everyone's attention focused on it. Rikki, in a brilliant tactical stroke, grabbed Daemeon by the shoulder and steered him over to the tractor beam console, where both watched the tech, the readouts, and the pod with bated breath. Rabé wasn't breathing at all.

Daemeon watched the suspended animation pod like a cat watched a fish through the window of an underwater Atlantan city. He peripherally observed Shrimati Rabé, nerve-wracked and trying not to show it, and Admiral Michaels, who had no such inhibitions. She was not only visibly sweating, but she seemed intent on biting her bottom lip off. Who was this mystery woman, and why, by the stars above, was she so important? She obviously had enemies, why else would her suspended animation pod be jettisoned into open space? (He was also intently aware that he was one of the few people on this ship with the bare knowledge of this woman's first name.) Rabé had said something about a mental message being sent by this Guenevere, but he guessed that Guenevere had no idea at all when they were coming. Unless the Admiral…no. Admiral Michaels had no skill at sending mental messages. So Guenevere most likely had no idea who they were, though she had probably picked up the presence of this many life forms. Might he sent her a message? He could try at any rate.

He reached out with a mental tendril. –Shrimati…Madame…Miss…Guenevere? Are you there? -

-Who…what are you? -

The voice that seemed to resonate through him was light but powerful, like his grandmother's. -My name is Daemeon. I am with the Atlantan/Nabooese party sent to find you. -

He felt a shiver of surprise along the tendril. Her flute-like mental voice returned. -Really. Well, it certainly took you long enough. Who's in charge of the mission? -

-Admiral Michaels. -

Laughter trilled through the tendril to him, making him tingle.

-Rikki's been a busy girl has she? -

Daemeon wanted to inquire just what she meant by that, but the pod was being pulled through the containment field. -You're in the cargo bay now, there's techs and doctors here…so is the Admiral and Shrimati Rabé. -

-Rabé's here? Why didn't you say for before? -

-Wait, you know Shrimati Rabé? -

-Of course, she's my aunt. -

-Your aunt? -

She didn't reply. –Guenevere? -

-I need—strength—to survive the re-animation process. Will you help? - In smaller voice she added, -Please? -

He considered. -Absolutely. What do I need to do? -

-Nothing, just leave it to me. -

Daemeon didn't know just what she did, but he felt a sudden physical tiredness, like after a long workout in the gym with his practice staff. He stumbled.

"Kid?" The Admiral inquired. "Daemeon? You all right?"

"She's…pulling strength out of me."

The Admiral's mouth opened, as if to say something and then she closed it. A tech signaled her. She turned to Daemeon and smiled tightly.

"Come on, kiddo, lets watch them crack this clam shell."