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This is one of the times I am glad I never gave up recording my thoughts on flimsy. There are times when the sound of the stylus as I write is almost as comforting as pouring out my thoughts is. Datapads just aren't the same.
Why am I so in need of comfort?
Today I watched as battle-droids executed a group of "rebels" in Theed's main plaza. They simply shot them down in cold blood.
The Neimodians forced Yané and I to watch along with Governor Bibble and the Council members. We stood together, surrounded by battle-droids, and watched helplessly and silently.
But not without protest. I am almost afraid to write these words, for fear someone might find and read them and we would lose our only method of communication and resistance.
It has long been the custom on Naboo to use clothing as a form of communication, with different colors used for their symbolism. Now we are using this old custom to fight the Trade Federation in the only way we can.
Today, when we were told there would be an execution of some of the leaders of the "rebel cells" in the plaza, the same thought must have occurred to all of us. For though we had no chance to speak with one another, when we were gathered to be escorted to the plaza, we were all dressed in colors and styles to symbolize our grief, anger, determination, and resistance.
Yané and I, of course, have been allowed to stay together in our rooms in the Palace. I am not sure why this is so. After all, we were on our way to be "processed" when the Jedi appeared and took away Padmé, and the others.
Yané and I didn't need to speak to decide what we would wear. We simply chose our clothes together. One of us held up a gown, the other chose shoes, and so on.
Knowing that we were all speaking this secret language, that while to the Trade Federation we may seem to be beaten, but we are really protesting at every step, and that even now Padmé must be pleading our cause and getting help for Naboo, is all that got me through the execution.
Because there is something I told no one, not even Yané.
When we arrived at the plaza and I looked across and saw the Naboo to be executed, I knew one of them. Better than knew him–he was my brother.
I would have run across the plaza to him, thrown myself in front of him, let them shoot me or beat me or kill me, except that at the same time I saw Zac, he saw me. All the way across the plaza our eyes met, and I knew he didn't want me to do any of that. We are not Jedi, we cannot read minds, but somehow Zac and I have always been able to know what the other is thinking. And I knew then that he was proud to die for Naboo and that he wanted to me to stay silent so that I can fight tomorrow or the next day or the next or whenever Padmé returns to lead our people. I knew that he would tell me, if he could, that his death would serve a purpose and so would my life.
And so I stood still and watched them kill my brother, fighting with every ounce of strength and control that I have learned while serving the Queen not to give away my secret.
And now I must live with the fact that I succeeded...that I did nothing while they killed Zac.
I did nothing...
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This is one of the times I am glad I never gave up recording my thoughts on flimsy. There are times when the sound of the stylus as I write is almost as comforting as pouring out my thoughts is. Datapads just aren't the same.
Why am I so in need of comfort?
Today I watched as battle-droids executed a group of "rebels" in Theed's main plaza. They simply shot them down in cold blood.
The Neimodians forced Yané and I to watch along with Governor Bibble and the Council members. We stood together, surrounded by battle-droids, and watched helplessly and silently.
But not without protest. I am almost afraid to write these words, for fear someone might find and read them and we would lose our only method of communication and resistance.
It has long been the custom on Naboo to use clothing as a form of communication, with different colors used for their symbolism. Now we are using this old custom to fight the Trade Federation in the only way we can.
Today, when we were told there would be an execution of some of the leaders of the "rebel cells" in the plaza, the same thought must have occurred to all of us. For though we had no chance to speak with one another, when we were gathered to be escorted to the plaza, we were all dressed in colors and styles to symbolize our grief, anger, determination, and resistance.
Yané and I, of course, have been allowed to stay together in our rooms in the Palace. I am not sure why this is so. After all, we were on our way to be "processed" when the Jedi appeared and took away Padmé, and the others.
Yané and I didn't need to speak to decide what we would wear. We simply chose our clothes together. One of us held up a gown, the other chose shoes, and so on.
Knowing that we were all speaking this secret language, that while to the Trade Federation we may seem to be beaten, but we are really protesting at every step, and that even now Padmé must be pleading our cause and getting help for Naboo, is all that got me through the execution.
Because there is something I told no one, not even Yané.
When we arrived at the plaza and I looked across and saw the Naboo to be executed, I knew one of them. Better than knew him–he was my brother.
I would have run across the plaza to him, thrown myself in front of him, let them shoot me or beat me or kill me, except that at the same time I saw Zac, he saw me. All the way across the plaza our eyes met, and I knew he didn't want me to do any of that. We are not Jedi, we cannot read minds, but somehow Zac and I have always been able to know what the other is thinking. And I knew then that he was proud to die for Naboo and that he wanted to me to stay silent so that I can fight tomorrow or the next day or the next or whenever Padmé returns to lead our people. I knew that he would tell me, if he could, that his death would serve a purpose and so would my life.
And so I stood still and watched them kill my brother, fighting with every ounce of strength and control that I have learned while serving the Queen not to give away my secret.
And now I must live with the fact that I succeeded...that I did nothing while they killed Zac.
I did nothing...
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