The Penpal Paradox/Chapter Two
There was unrest in the Galactic Senate, and it was spreading like a virus throughout the galaxy. Thousands of systems were threatening to leave the Republic and join a rebellious faction who called themselves The Separatists. The coup was being orchestrated by a rather intelligent and well-spoken man by the name of Dooku.
In response to the threat, a few senators had created a bill they had titled the Military Creation Act in order to defend the Republic. There simply weren't enough Jedi to fight a war.
In her opinion, war was not an option. As a Galactic Senator, Padmé Amidala had become an outspoken member of the Loyalist Committee, whose stance was one against the upcoming bill. She had just left a secret meeting of the committee which had taken place on Alderaan. They had decided to reconvene on Coruscant in front of the Supreme Chancellor eleven days from now. They had his full support and were hoping he could sway the vote of the other senators.
Padmé was worried, however. Other than the chancellor, their support was minimal. It seemed as if the entire galaxy was eager for bloodshed.
Worry and exhaustion were clouding her mind and at her assistant's suggestion, she would travel home to Naboo before returning to Coruscant. A visit with her family would help ease her mind while she waited to cast her vote.
Just seeing the faces of her mother, father, sister and nieces automatically made Padmé feel better. Her father, Ruwee, wished to know all the details of the act, about the rumors circulating of impending war, but her mother, Jobal, demanded a change of the subject.
"Our daughter is obviously tired and came here to rest, not to be interrogated," she told her husband good-naturedly.
After a meal with enough food to feed the entire separatist army, Padmé sat at her bedroom vanity, staring at her reflection. Her assistant Dormé, and roommate for the next ten days was unpacking their bags.
"Do I look as tired as I feel?" Padmé wondered aloud.
"Nothing a good night's sleep in your old bedroom won't fix," Dormé replied while hanging their gowns in the closet. "Or nine of them, actually," she amended.
Padmé couldn't help but notice the dark shadows which had appeared under her eyes and was that a gray hair? She hoped Dormé was right.
"If your mom keeps feeding us like that, I'll have to invest in an entirely new wardrobe," her assistant stated from inside the closet.
Padmé chuckled. It felt good to laugh and her friend always managed to accomplish that, no matter the difficulties which often faced her.
Dormé stepped out from the wardrobe, a robe over her arm. "You should have everything you need for the night. If you need me, I'll be in the shower."
While she was gone, Padmé readied herself for sleep, grabbed her DataReader and slipped under the covers of her childhood bed. Once settled, she opened up the Holonet and began to browse, quickly swiping away anything remotely related to politics. What she was searching for was something purely for entertainment. She was just getting into an article concerning the newest and most fashionable hairstyles in the Core when a rather intriguing notice appeared on the screen. Usually, the security on her device filtered any irrelevant messages, but the tagline on this particular one caught her attention. It was something regarding the Galactic Youth Organization – a quality leadership program she'd been involved in as a youngling. Thinking perhaps it was an invitation to a reunion gathering or something, Padmé opened it.
"I thought we agreed you were going to avoid work during this visit," Dormé chided her as she sat on the edge of the bed, toweling her hair dry.
"Listen to this," Padmé explained, reading the message.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Mid Rim/Kenobi,ObiWan
440521/16:02/045
To Whom It May Concern:
Greetings! My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I'm a Jedi Padawan under the tutelage of Master Qui-Gon Jinn. I am writing this letter in order to establish communication with another participant in the Galactic Youth Correspondence Initiative. I've decided to allow the Force to guide me and have selected 'random' as the recipient. In other words, I don't know who I'm talking to. Whoever this is, you can be sure I will write as often as I can. Being trained as a Jedi is exciting, but I'm discovering there are a lot of downtimes mainly due to long distance space travel. I'm looking forward to meeting you. Please respond at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely, Obi-Wan
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"What do you make of this?" Padmé asked her friend.
"It's obviously a hoax. I mean, look at the timestamp! Isn't Obi-Wan Kenobi one of the Jedi who helped you out of that mess with the Neimoidians?"
Padmé contemplated her assistant's words, the strangeness of the letter, the date and time, as well as the reference to the GYCI. It had been a long while, but she believed she remembered some of the details about it.
"I signed up for this, but it was right before I was elected Queen. I didn't have time to participate so I deleted my bio," she explained. "This," she pointed to the date on the letter, "was written nearly twenty years ago."
"Or a few minutes ago," Dormé argued. "Somebody's messing with you." Her friend tossed the wet towel onto the single bed which had once belonged to Padmé's sister. "I'll prove it to you."
The young woman took the DataReader and began composing a reply.
"Wait a second…"Padmé complained. "What are you going to say?"
"Nothing to worry about. I'm just calling this creep's bluff."
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MidRim/ChommelSector/Naberrie,Padmé
440524/09:27/023
Greetings to you! I'm Padmé. My father works for the Galactic Holonet Security Patrol which investigates and eliminates potential hackers and scammers. My mother is president of the Council for Safe Holonet Practices. Perhaps you've heard of these organizations. They're solely responsible for imprisoning countless Holonet criminals. I'm looking forward to hearing back from you.
Sincerely, Padmé
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Before she could stop her, Dormé sent the message.
"Wait! Why did you do that? He's going to believe all those lies!"
"Good!" Dormé replied, handing her back the DataReader. "As your bodyguard, it's my duty to keep you safe. That includes any potential dangerous online activity. Trust me," the young woman smirked confidently, "you won't hear back from whoever that is."
Feeling quite smug and proud of herself, her assistant hopped into bed and pulled the covers over her. Padmé, on the other hand, wasn't so sure what she'd done was the right thing. It was too late now, however. Once a message was gone, there was no getting it back. She would simply have to trust Dormé was correct.
Resigned to let the matter go, Padmé turned off the lights and got comfortable, only to be disturbed by another bleep from her DataReader. There was another incoming message. Knowing she should put the thing on silent and go to sleep, curiosity got the best of her and she retrieved the DataReader from the table.
She read the sender's name and then turned the lights back on, much to Dormé's disappointment.
"What are you doing?" her assistant groaned from beneath a pillow she had placed over her head.
"I just got another message," Padmé told her as she attempted to comprehend its significance, though failing miserably. "It's…it's from Obi-Wan."