Chapter 3

Mira

The sun had barely crested the horizon when I was abruptly yanked from the warm embrace of sleep by a persistent, almost imperceptible sensation. I groaned softly, my eyes fluttering open to reveal the dimly lit chamber. Yet, as the initial fog of slumber dissipated, I discerned the distant rumble of mechanical feet, each step resonating with the unmistakable cadence of impending doom. My heart quickened as I recognized the unmistakable sound of Trade Federation droids patrolling the streets outside, their metallic limbs scraping against the cobblestone with cold, unyielding precision.

I threw off the lightweight, hand-woven shawl that had served as my blanket and stumbled over to the window, my breath fogging the cool glass as I peered into the early morning light. The sight that greeted me was one of utter despair—a veritable river of droids, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the nascent daylight as they marched in lockstep, a chilling reminder of the occupation that had befallen Naboo.

A wave of anger washed over me as I recognized the emblem of the Trade Federation on their gleaming exteriors. "Stupid, arrogant bastards," I murmured through gritted teeth. "They truly believe they can subdue the will of an entire planet."

With a swiftness born of urgency, I began to don my garments for the day, selecting a simple yet elegant tunic that bore the colors of the Royal House of Naboo. The fabric whispered against my skin as I wound it around my body, the soft material a stark contrast to the harsh reality unfolding outside. My thoughts raced as I recalled the countless times Padme had spoken of the injustices wrought by these invaders.

Once dressed, I made my way to the throne room, my footsteps echoing through the grand corridors that had seen centuries of peace and prosperity, now marred by the shadow of conflict. As I approached, I heard the muffled tones of Padme's unwavering voice, intermingling with the guttural growls of the Neimoidians.

The room itself was a masterpiece of Naboo architecture, with soaring ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes that told the story of our planet's history. The ornate throne, a testament to the grace and strength of our people, stood at the far end, flanked by towering windows that offered a view of the once-tranquil cityscape now desecrated by the looming droid army.

Padme was seated regally, her posture a beacon of defiance amidst the chaos. The two Neimoidian leaders—Viceroy Nute Gunray and his aide, Rune Haako—stood before her, their reptilian faces twisted into expressions of disdain. Their garments were an ostentatious display of wealth and power, a stark juxtaposition to the simplicity of Padme's attire. They emitted an odor that was both cloying and repulsive, akin to slimy eels that had been left out in the sun too long.

As I entered, I felt the weight of their gazes upon me, and the room seemed to constrict around us. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the promise of confrontation. The holographic projection of the two Neimoidians flickered before me, their oily voices grating against my ears.

"Viceroy," Padme began, her tone as sharp as a vibroblade, "the Senate is voting on the legitimacy of your blockade as we speak. I advise you to consider the consequences of your actions."

The Neimoidian in the crimson robe smirked at his cohort, his amphibian-like features contorting into an expression of smug confidence. I felt a sudden surge of anger, the Force thrumming within me like a live wire.

"I have brought someone with me who would like to convey her displeasure regarding your unwelcome presence," Padme continued, her eyes finding mine and holding them for a brief moment. "The Princess of Lothal, Selene."

The Viceroy and his aide stiffened, their beady eyes narrowing. "We were not aware of the... presence of Royalty," the Viceroy stuttered, his voice a serrated knife in the quiet of the chamber.

I stepped forward, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. "Padme has invited me to convey a simple message," I said, my voice cool and collected, a stark contrast to the maelstrom of emotions churning within me. "Withdraw your forces, or you will leave a trail of lifeless droids in your wake."

Their reaction was immediate and unmistakable—fear, mixed with a hint of surprise. I had hoped my mention of the Jedi on their ship would be sufficient to dissuade them from further aggression.

The hologram fizzled and disappeared, leaving us in an uneasy silence. Padme then addressed her council members, her voice firm yet calm. "Thank you for your attendance. You are dismissed."

The room emptied, leaving only the soft rustle of fabric as Padme and I remained, the weight of our shared burden heavy upon us. She stood, her eyes filled with hope and determination, and embraced me warmly. "Your words had impact, Selene. Perhaps they will finally see reason."

I sighed deeply, feeling the warmth of her embrace. "I am no Jedi Knight, Padme," I confessed, the doubt in my voice mirrored in the furrow of my brow. "My power lies in diplomacy, not combat."

Padme's grip tightened slightly. "No, my friend," she said with a gentle smile, "but we do have two Jedi on our side. They are aboard their ship as we speak, working to end this blockade."

The mention of the Jedi brought a flicker of hope to my heart, a beacon in the storm of uncertainty. With them as our allies, perhaps victory was within reach.

"Come," Padme said, her voice soft and reassuring, "let us break our fast together."

We exited the throne room, the echoes of our footsteps a solemn reminder of the gravity of the situation. As we ventured into the quiet corridors, the aroma of freshly baked bread and steaming caf mingled with the faint scent of blooming glythia, a bittersweet reminder of the peace we were fighting to restore.

Breakfast was a simple affair, yet it was imbued with a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose. We sat at a table laden with a spread of Naboo delicacies, the sun's rays casting a warm glow over the scene. Despite the gravity of our conversation, the room was filled with a gentle warmth that seemed to belie the turmoil just beyond the palace walls.

As we ate, we discussed our next steps, our eyes meeting frequently in silent understanding. The Jedi were our last, best hope—our guardians in a time of darkness.

And so, as the sun climbed higher into the sky, we fortified ourselves with both food and friendship, preparing to face whatever the day would bring. For Naboo, for justice, and for the freedom of all those who had suffered under the tyranny of the Trade Federation, we would stand firm, united in our resolve.

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Author

Six colossal landing craft, each flanked by a pair of nimble droid starfighters, majestically launched from the towering, gleaming hull of the lead Federation battleship, soaring in a meticulously coordinated ballet toward the surface of the serene yet mysterious planet of Naboo. The atmosphere of the planet's perpetually twilit hemisphere enshrouded them in a veil of gray clouds, the boundary between the heavens and the swampy marshlands beneath.

Three of these monolithic vessels gradually descended through the dense cloud cover, their descent as graceful as the fall of giant petals from an ancient tree in the planet's enigmatic forests. The starfighters, having played their escort roles to perfection, peeled away like a flock of mechanical birds, their engines diminishing into the distance.

One of the landing craft, however, began to wobble in mid-descent as if it had encountered an invisible obstacle. Suddenly, a brilliant lightsaber blazed forth from beneath the ship's undercarriage, piercing the metal hull with the precision of a master surgeon. The blade, a beacon of cerulean fire, sliced open a clean, man-sized hole, allowing the unyielding Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi to emerge. He leaped with the poise of a gazelle, plummeting into the murky embrace of a nearby lake. The craft, now critically damaged, continued its descent before slamming into the boggy earth, shearing off a wing in a dramatic finale.

As the eerie symphony of the swamp grew pregnant with the hum of invading machinery, the remaining Federation warships delicately set down upon the marshy ground. The main doors of the landing crafts parted with a hiss that seemed almost organic in the damp air, releasing the first wave of battle droids mounted on STAPs, single-rider hovering platforms designed for rapid reconnaissance. The droids dispersed like a metallic swarm, their gleaming eyes scanning the surroundings with cold efficiency. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan's head surfaced from the lake's shadowy waters, his eyes sharp as lasers on the droids emerging from the mist. With a deep inhalation, he vanished back into the water, becoming one with the swamp's amorphous veil.

Behemoths of warfare, the MTTs (Multi-Troop Transports), with their elephantine silhouettes, lurched forth from the bowels of the grounded vessels. Their footsteps reverberated through the swamp, sending ripples through the stagnant water and causing the surrounding vegetation to quiver in their wake. OOM-9, the droid commander, stood tall in his armored tank, surveying the seemingly endless stream of droids that marched across the boggy terrain. His holographic masters, the cunning Viceroy Nute Gunray and the ever-watchful Rune Haako, flickered to life before him, their forms wavering like specters.

"Yes, Viceroy?" OOM-9 intoned, his voice a testament to the cold, unfeeling resolve of the droids' programming.

"We've searched the ship," Nute Gunray's hissing voice conveyed urgency, "but there's no trace of the Jedi. They may have boarded one of your landing craft."

"We will find them, Viceroy," OOM-9 assured, his mechanical cadence unwavering as the hologram winked out.

Elsewhere in the swamp, Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan's mentor and fellow Jedi, sprinted through the dense, alien foliage with the agility of a creature born to the wetlands. His gaze flitted from side to side, a silent sentinel tracking the monstrous MTTs that bulldozed through the ancient forest, sending trees crashing to the ground like matchsticks. The native fauna, large and small, were driven to a frenzy by the mechanical behemoths, stampeding in every direction.

A peculiar, frog-like Gungan named Jar Jar Binks crouched by the water's edge, feasting on a clam he had plucked from the murky depths. His tongue, a wet whip, darted out to claim the morsel, his eyes fluttering with pleasure. Yet, as Qui-Gon approached, pursued by the shadow of an MTT, his meal was forgotten. The Jedi's swift movements and the chaos of the retreating wildlife captured his attention.

In a heartbeat, Qui-Gon was beside him, a blur of brown robes and lightsaber. He grabbed Jar Jar, the Gungan's eyes bulging in shock, and hurled them both into the mud just as the MTT's shadow loomed over them. The transport's massive wheels scraped the air above their heads, sending a shower of debris and water droplets down upon them. The craft rumbled on, leaving them untouched but buried in the muck.

Qui-Gon, ever the composed warrior, rose to his feet, shaking off the clinging mud. Yet, before he could retreat, Jar Jar Binks, a grin spreading across his wide, flat features, leaned in and planted a wet, slimy kiss on the Jedi's cheek with his tongue.

"Oyi, mooie-mooie! I luv you!" Jar Jar exclaimed, his voice a mix of relief and childlike affection.

Qui-Gon's expression soured. "You almost got us killed!" he admonished, wiping the mud from his face. "Are you brainless?"

"I spake," Jar Jar replied, his wide eyes unblinking.

Ignoring the Gungan's protests of innocence, Qui-Gon shooed him away. "You're not coming with me," he said firmly.

But Jar Jar, his eyes filled with a strange mix of hope and fear, followed, his legs propelling him through the mire with surprising grace. "Mesa stay! Mesa culled JaJa Binkss. Mesa yous humble servaunt."

Qui-Gon's sigh was a storm cloud of frustration. "That won't be necessary," he said, his voice clipped.

"Oh, but it tis!" Jar Jar insisted, his voice rising in pitch. "Mesa promised da guds, it tis. Tis a live debett, tis."

The Jedi Master's gaze was torn from the Gungan by the sound of STAPs, their engines a cacophony as they emerged from the mist, blaster cannons tracking them with malevolent intent. Qui-Gon's attention shifted to his Padawan, Obi-Wan, who was also being pursued by droids in the distance.

"I have no time for this," he murmured, pushing Jar Jar aside and igniting his lightsaber.

Jar Jar's eyes grew wide with terror as he finally took in the danger. "Oh, no! Wesa gonna..."

But Qui-Gon's blade danced through the air, a whirlwind of blue fire that met the incoming barrage of laser bolts, sending them ricocheting back at the STAPs. The droids' crafts shuddered and exploded, one droid's torso flying far into the forest, the metal twisted into an unrecognizable form.

Obi-Wan stumbled towards them, his lightsaber hilt smoking in his hand. "Master, I'm sorry. The water fried it," he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

Qui-Gon took the damaged weapon, inspecting it with a critical eye. "You forgot to turn your power off again, didn't you?"

Obi-Wan nodded, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"It won't take long to recharge," Qui-Gon assured him, his tone firm but not unkind. "But remember this lesson, young one."

Their exchange was punctuated by the sudden appearance of Jar Jar Binks, his eyes wide with a mix of admiration and relief. "Oh, yousa saved me again!"

Obi-Wan looked from the Gungan to Qui-Gon, his expression a question.

"A local," Qui-Gon replied with a dismissive wave. "Let's move before more droids arrive."

They set off at a brisk pace, the sound of the droid army's approach growing ever more ominous. "Ex-squeeze me," Jar Jar huffed, his legs struggling to keep up. "But da most grande safest place would be Otoh Gunga City. Tis where I grew up... Tis a hidden city."

Qui-Gon's interest was piqued. "A city?"

Jar Jar nodded vigorously, his long tongue flicking out to catch his breath. "Uh-huh!"

"Could you take us there?" Qui-Gon asked, his gaze intense.

Jar Jar's enthusiasm wilted. "Ahh... on second taut... no, not really, no."

"No?!" Qui-Gon's voice sharpened.

Jar Jar looked at the ground, his ears drooping. "My afraid my've been banished. The Bosses would do terrible tings to me—terrible tings if me go back dere."

Before the Jedi could press further, a new sound intruded upon the swamp's symphony—a deep, resonating rumble that seemed to emanate from the very core of Naboo itself.

"Do you hear that?" Qui-Gon asked, his eyes scanning the horizon with a newfound sense of urgency.

Jar Jar cocked his head, his ear rising to catch the distant vibration. "Yeah..."

"That," Qui-Gon said, his voice a knife in the tense air, "is the sound of a thousand terrible things heading this way."

Obi-Wan grinned, a mischievous spark in his eye. "If they find us," he said, "they'll crush us, grind us into little pieces, and blast us into oblivion!"

Jar Jar's expression was a portrait of dawning horror. "Yousa point is well seen. Dis way!" He took off at a sprint, his long legs carrying him through the swamp with surprising agility.

The Jedi had no choice but to follow, the cries of the swamp creatures and the thunderous footsteps of the approaching droids their only company as they disappeared into the mist.