Chapter 2

Pandora's Box

Guenevere was surprised by the contact of the boy Daemeon. She had not felt a presence that strong since, oh, her last contact with the Emissary. But that was impossible, the Emissary's unshielded presence would most likely kill a mind-healer or Force user, and shielded she seemed to extrude power. So then why did this Daemeon seem to have the same strength of presence? To Guenevere at least…She stopped herself. He's a boy, you know that. He's 40 years younger than you are. Maybe more. Too bad… The brief mental contact and the strength she drew from him told her more than he might guess—his age, Force talent, and physical health. Stay away from him, girl-o. Don't mess him up too.

Rabé approached the space where the pod lay with automaton-like stiffness. Slowly she crossed her arms and grabbed her elbows to hide her shaking hands. Guenevere, Guenevere, her mind seemed to chant, as if she might elicit some response. Her intention or not, no response came.

Rikki stood with a somewhat pale Daemeon at her side. Rikki looked even worse than he did, but that may have been due to her much-lighter skin.

"All right, people," she was saying, "This is it. No mess-ups, no mistakes, first one to crack buys drinks. We good?" Affirmatives chorused from all sections. Rikki smiled tightly. "Let's get this over with."

Cheers rang through the bay.

One of the suspended animation techs leaned over to the control panel on the side of the pod and pushed a button. Rabé held her breath.

Guenevere felt a sudden pain like something was trying to ram its way out of her chest. What the bleedin'…Oh, yeah. Her heartbeat. After all, it had been twenty-five years since she had felt that bodily function. Stars, it had been twenty-five years since she had felt any bodily functions. Wait a minute, how could I have had conscious thought if I had no heartbeat…She decided not to touch that one. Too confusing. And you have other things to worry about, girl-o. Like how breathing is gonna feel with the scars you got. The injuries her father has 'blessed' her with were anything but pleasant. They most likely looked worse than they had felt—and would feel again—which meant they looked like a nightmare. Oh, stars above, don't let Rabé be out there when they crack this thing.

The tech who had pushed the button looked up at Rikki. She nodded, feeling a tremor of fear float up from the butterflies in her stomach. The tech opened the pod. All we can do now is hope, and hope, and hope…

Cold, fresh air washed over Guenevere as she took her first painful, oh so painful breath of sweet air in twenty-five years. And she opened her eyes…

Not too late to see Rabé flinch away, hand over mouth, tears standing in her eyes. No, no, please no! Guenevere's chest was covered with blood and the charred rags that had once been a shirt. Her flaming red hair was still plastered to her forehead with so much sweat its color had dulled. And there, stuck to her neck with blood and sweat was the carved japoor snippet necklace that had once been Amidala's. Wait…movement—there—her eyes—green, greener than new leaves—opened slowly. And then closed. A Bothan doctor ran to her, lifted an eyelid and shined a light into it. He swore. "Nurse, get me that nips NOW!" he bellowed, and people scrambled to obey.

The doctor pressed the NPS (non-puncturing syringe) to Guenevere's jugular vein with near bruising force. He pushed brutally on her chest, circulating the serum. He felt for a pulse, pulling stuck hair from her neck. His golden- russet furred hand lingered for a few tense moments. "I have a pulse!" he announced, "She's got stasis shock but she's alive! Nurse, gimme that damn medscanner." He ran the device in the air over her body. "She's got multiple contusions, lacerations and electrical burns on her chest an abdomen, a severe concussion, and her left wrist is broken in three places. Unshabaiya, get that gurney. Let's move her to medical."

The doctors moved her to the gurney in a swift, cooperative process, and then pushed it from the bay. Rikki—and Daemeon after a nod from Rabé—left with them. Rabé stayed long after they had left, taking deep breaths, watching the techs clean up.

Rikki touched the com-link on her collar. "Iverson?"

"Addie?" his voice came back.

"Inform HQ that Stage 2 has been completed."

"Successfully?"

"Err…Complicated. Broadcast only that subject is currently receiving medical treatment."

"Aye-aye, Addie," he responded, and she cut the comm.

Daemeon had never seen anything quite like that before. Lets face it, yaar, you've never seen injuries like that before even in pictures, you've never seen anybody die before, and you've never seen anyone be resurrected. Great stars, what had Rabé's purpose been in letting him stay? Surely she would have known…He remembered her flinch, the tears in her eyes. No, she wasn't expecting that. Not by a long shot. Rikki looked up from the short conversation she'd had using her com-link, and caught Daemeon's eye.

"You've never seen anything like that before, have you?"

"No. Have you?"

"No."

They walked in silence behind the bustling and noisy doctors for a few moments. Daemeon managed to work up the courage to ask a question, and it came in a rush.

"Do you know what caused those injuries?"

"Not…precisely," Rikki said slowly. " I do know she battled her father. Most of that is likely his work."

"Who was her father?"

She shook her head. "Not my place to say. But what I will tell you is that he was a user of the Dark Side." The Dark Side was a part of the Force, traditionally connected to evil, anger, and impatience. And violence.

"Would he have hurt her with it?"

"I have no doubt he did," she replied quietly.

The gurney and the doctors turned into the medical bay. Rikki followed. Daemeon did not.

Slowly he followed the hallway—passageway—to the turbolift, down the 3 levels to his guest quarters, entered his rooms, walked quietly to the lavatory, and threw up.

Medical was more than ready to receive its newest patient. The ship's chief medical officer herself was in charge of the shipboard treatment. Florence Graham had set up for every possible emergency. Rikki didn't know how she did it. But she most certainly wasn't going to ask now. The doctors were conferring.

"The best we can do for her now is to get her stabilized and dump her into bacta," the golden-russet furred Bothan doctor was saying.

"I don't want her in that miracle juice," snapped Flo. "We have no idea about the extent of her injuries, it'll heal her up so fast we won't know about any harmful scarring."

"Dr. Graham," the Bothan doc said, "She'll die if we don't. I am certain she will. And there's other things too…" he pulled her out of hearing.

A nurse spotted Rikki, and quickly came to her. "Addie, there's nothing you can do now, we will keep you updated on all progress…"

"Not just the progress," she growled. "You tell me everything that happens in here every hour on the hour, got it?"

The nurse nodded vigorously. "Aye, Addie. We will."

Only somewhat satisfied, Rikki left.

She soon found herself on her bridge again, attempting to find a distraction. There wasn't one. Drat. Damn… "Iverson, inform HQ that Stage 3 has begun." She paced the short space behind her command chair. Dammit, I need something to do! There were those reports…Boring and tedious, yes, but definitely distracting. Fine. They needed to be done anyway. "Robbie," she said to Shaw, "I'll be in my ready room."

"Good," she replied cordially. "You can stop terrifying the bridge crew."

Rikki scowled at her, blue eyes burning.

"See," Robbie persisted, "That glower of yours could scare a Wookie."

Rikki was at the end of her rope. Her finger stabbed at a door off to the side. "Ready room," she barked to Robbie. "Now."

Robbie, having seen this routine before, hopped out of her chair and trotted into the ready room. The doors slid shut behind them. Rikki sat at her desk and loosened her collar as Robbie settled into a chair. Robbie brushed a strand of her dark hair out of her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Spill," she demanded.

"Oh, stars, Robbie, I don't know what to do."

"About what?"

Rikki had taken to staring at the abstract sculpture resting on her desk. "About any of this. Rabé is flipping out, she won't show it but she is, and that kid she's got with her has just been introduced to violent death for the first time in his life…"

"Death? I thought she was under medical care."

"She died. The docs had to restart her heart. Stars, Robbie, she was electrocuted. He got her with those damn Dark Side lightning's, I know he did."

Rikki's cat, Contrary, took advantage of the new laps and leapt into Robbie's. She was promptly dumped out. "Does Flo think she can help her?"

"Flo is trying to keep her out of bacta. I have no idea what she wants to do instead."

"Yeah, well, that's Flo for you, always searching for alternative treatments. But occasionally she's got to give. Just how bad were our subject's injuries?"

"Her chest looked like it was beaten with sharp hammers and then electrified. The doc said, other than that, she had a concussion, and that her wrist was broken." Contrary now attempted to sit in Rikki's lap. Rikki, apparently oblivious to the cat hairs her uniform was going to acquire, permitted her to do so.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"It's not the injuries that were bad, it was the electrification coupled with the suspended animation shock. The shock without injury can kill on its lonesome, but with injuries that severe…"

Robbie winced. "She needs that bacta, Flo's arguments or not."

Absently Rikki began to pet Contrary. "Exactly. But I don't know enough."

"Then maybe we should go find out."

Rikki looked up. "Now that may just be the best idea I've heard all day. But they need to discover just how far her injuries extend."

"Medscanners work fast. Give the docs another half hour, and then see what they plan to do."

"You want to what?" Rikki exploded. "Go to Coruscant? Are you mad?"

Rikki and Flo stood in Flo's office off of sickbay, 30 minutes later. Neither's temper was in good condition.

"Coruscant is the only place I know of with bacta treatment facilities good enough," Flo said grudgingly. "There is a special trauma center that specializes in burn treatment and scar removal in the Imperial Palace complex…"

"Oh, no. I don't think so. I am not going to create a galactic political incident over this. If it is not bad enough that we haven't had contact with the Republic in nearly a century, we cannot bring her to their capital for more reasons than I can tell you. Dammit, Flo, we can't bring her to the Imperial Palace. If they got even a hint of who she was…"

"That's precisely my point, Admiral, all I know about this girl is that she was injured so badly that she needs the best bacta treatment in the galaxy, and that someone saw to it that she was jettisoned into space. I also know she is incredibly Force strong from her midi-clorian levels, and I know that her neural pathways are developed to a point far more advanced than any twelve-year-old I've ever seen. Admiral, I …need…to…know…who…she…is."

"That would be a security breach…"

Flo let out a sharp sigh of exasperation. "All right, let me put it this way. The first thing I'm supposed to do when she wakes up is call her by her name. Or ask her her name. So listen, Addie. I can ask her, or you can tell me. And I'd rather you told me."

Rikki vaguely remembered some nurse confiding in her that Flo had a mean streak when she was angry. Crud. She was right, of course. Guenevere would tell Flo. The stars only knew just how much. Damn, damn, damn. Why me? Time for a split second decision.

"Have you checked her for tattoos?

"Yes…"

"Did you check under black light?

"No…"

That's right, Flo was Atlantan, but had lived on Naboo for most of her life, and probably didn't know about all Atlantan traditions. "Check the inside of her left wrist."

Flo rose and entered the sickbay. Through the window Rikki watched as she entered the double doors of the intensive care ward, and through both windows watched as she used a small multi-spectrum flashlight to check Guenevere's wrist. And saw Flo's mouth fall open and dark skin become a slightly lighter brown. Flo walked back to the office, looking stunned.

"She's Lightner," her voice came faintly. "Tri-colored Celtic knot. With gold outline…"

Apparently not as ignorant as originally thought. "Do you know what the outline means?"

"Gold is reserved for the direct descendants of the Enlightener…"

"The woman on that bed is Guenevere Simon. She is of the maternal line direct. Katharine Eiffel is one of her greater-grandmothers."

"Katharine Eiffel, the Enlightener. She who discovered the sea angels…" She blinked. "The last one born of the maternal line direct was Amidala of the Naboo. We all knew that…she…and…Emperor…"

"Guenevere is the rape-child of Amidala and Emperor Palpatine. She—Guenevere—was injured by Palpatine, in an attempt to kill him. She was originally put in suspended animation for her own and her mother's protection. It was thought that by the time Palpatine came looking for them, he would only find Amidala and a child far too young to be his. It…things went wrong. I don't know all the details; you'll have to ask Rabé. She was there."

Flo sat silent for a long time, digesting her new insight. "I…cannot rescind my advice. She will die without the treatment they can offer."

Rikki felt pained. "Can't you do anything with nanotech?"

Flo shook her head. "She doesn't have the reserves, Addie," she said softly. "Bacta will heal her without drawing strength from her body."

"Flo…I…Do you have any idea what they would do, if they found out who her father was?"

Flo suddenly became very sensible. "Question her and find out what happened, I expect. Then turn her over to Skywalker. So long as she wasn't trying to kill Palpatine to take over his Empire…"

"She was trying to dissolve it."

"Then I expect they'd discover her training as a Lightner and as a Jedi…"

Rikki shook herself. "Wait, where did you draw that conclusion?"

Flo smiled slightly. "The lightsaber she had buried in her clothes."

"And the Lightner part?"

"The tattoo. And no Lightner in their right mind would let a tidbit that juicy slip to the Jedi without some Lightner training first."

"I still don't think this is a good idea. Are you sure?"

"I am positive she will die without that treatment."

Rikki bit her lip. Hard. "All right. I'll run it past Iloana. Maybe she can use this too her advantage in reintroducing us to the Republic."

Flo nodded. "I hope so."

"What are you going to do for her now?"

"Preliminary treatments have already been started, and she's been put into the intensive care ward."

Nothing she didn't know already. "Good." Rikki turned to leave. "Wait. Where is her lightsaber now?"

"Locked in the ward safe."

"Give it to me."

Flo hesitated. "Oh, it's just for safekeeping, I'm gonna give it back to her," Rikki snapped. Flo nodded and retrieved it.

Lightsaber safely in her possession, Rikki slipped it beneath her jacket. Again she turned to leave.

"Oh, Addie?" Flo called.

"Yes?"

"Can that kid of Madame Rabé's come around here? His Force talents may be able to help her." There was no way Flo was going to say that the boy had called to ask if he could help. She had brothers. He'd only be embarrassed.

Rikki was still for a moment. "Yes. He may. But don't tell him anything."

"Oh, and Flo," she added, as the door swished open. "You're sworn to secrecy for everything in this conversation. Except for her first name. Everything else comes on a need-to-know basis, unless if she," Rikki gestured to Guenevere, "chooses to tell anyone." She turned out the door.

"Yes…" she was gone, the door closed, leaving Flo in the dimmed lights of the night shift sickbay, "…Addie."

She went to work, researching the model of the suspended animation pod.

Rabé found herself in sickbay some five hours later. In the dimmed lights she made out Dr. Graham's office, and the doctor herself, head on desk, sleeping. As I should be. She glanced at the clock on the wall. One in the morning. Yeow.

She looked around the sickbay for a few minutes, and discovered her niece in the intensive care ward. She stepped through the doors.

Guenevere lay with bloodstained bandages covering her chest. Her wrist had apparently been mended already; such things were not difficult with proper treatment. Neither was healing cuts and burns, come to think of it. Why was she still bleeding? Hemophilia was not the issue; she knew that. Could Guenevere have been injured so badly? The thought made Rabé cringe.

For a long time she stood there, watching Guenevere breathe. Chest rise, chest fall, rise, fall, rise, fall, so shallow. What did we do to you, child? What right did we have to use you like this? No right at all was what they had. Though she would most likely be pleased that she had the chance to return to Coruscant. See her siblings again, and some old friends. Stars knew just how many she had made. And to chew out the New Republic's air-headed politicians, most of whom had never heard the proverb 'To irritate the Nabooese negotiator is to sign one's own death writ.' Though Guenevere doubtless considered herself Atlantan rather than Nabooese.

Rabé sighed and sat in the chair next to Guenevere's biobed. Ah, sweet, whatever are we going to do with you? Stars above, I wish I knew. You will make more trouble than your heart-sisters and aunts ever made combined. Rabé knew from her slightly disjointed thoughts that she needed sleep, and soon. She leaned over the biobed and kissed Guenevere on the forehead. The flesh bruised with the soft impact. Something deep in Rabé's soul wailed. As silently as she had come, she fled the sickbay, trailed by Graham's soft breathing.