Location: The Palace, Naboo
Allies: OP, the people of Naboo
Enemies: The invaders
Objective: Inspire the hell out of you
Up the stairs, up flights and flights of stairs, she climbed. She could have taken a lift, but they had been disabled. Standard protocol in these times. If an enemy did infiltrate, they wanted things to be as inconvenient as possible. And in the top of the tower, Feena stepped inside, looking behind at her friends. She smiled, then she bowed.
"This will only be a moment," she said, rising again and stepping forward, "I promise."
The Queen stood in front of the holoprojector. Her eyes were wide, afraid. She looked like she had been through a lot. And she had. For a good bit of her fourty years, her life was nothing but fighting, scaratching, biting. Struggling to just keep going. To survive. The Force was her ally. Why was it only used to hurt?
It was why she was so eager to learn healing. Anything to get her off the battlefield. Anything to give her a moments peace.But it didn't. Even when she had dedicated her life to healing, she was pushed out onto the battlefield. She was forced to dodge bullets, asked to die. Ask to patch up soldiers, work so hard to help the wounded... just to send them back to bleed again. To die.
She'd seen so much death. She was followed by it. Stalked by an army of ghosts. All she failed to save. That was the healers burden. Not even the best healer could save them all. Not even the Galaxy's greatest. Not even Bethany Kismit. Not even...
Not even Feena Mason.
And she was great. Feena was certain of it now. She'd spent so much time with that holocron. Spent so much time learning the few techniques that she did not already know. Feena had been a quick learner from infancy. A child prodigy. A genius of medicine, she'd been called. And only now, at the end of it all, was she starting to believe it. Only now, did she feel like the healer she had been striving to be.
She glanced down at her hands. For the first time in almost a decade, Feenarah Mason felt... clean. Her hands had always felt so wet, so sticky with blood. Nothing could wash away her failures. But now, somehow, she had cleaned her hands. She had washed it away. Clean. Pure. Like she was new.
Her bright silver eyes looked out the window at the city. Thousands lived in these buildings. Millions called this world home. Including her, including her family. She would never leave here again. Not ever. Not after spending so long just trying to get back.
Omega Protectorate. The Confederacy. "The Authority". The Republic. The Sith. The Jedi Order. The Empire....
None of them. Not a single one of them mattered anymore. What mattered was one small world in the Mid Rim. All that mattered was Naboo, and the people that called it home. Good people. People of tradition, family. People who struggled and endured. Strong, Capable, resilient. Not fighters.
Lovers.
Why didn't she see it before? The reason she had such trouble as a soldier? Because she wasn't Coruscant. She wasn't Bothawui. She wasn't Korribaan, or Tattoine.
She was Naboo. And she always would be.
"I am addressing the people of Naboo, the men, women, and children who reside here. The ones who call this world home."
She looked straight ahead, through the holoprojector, eyes never leaving the city landscape. She relaxed now, fear present, but tamed. This specific room was exactly for this purpose. When she needed to send an important message to the people, make a speech that would be heard all around the planet, this was where she went to do it.
And she would be heard today.
"My people. throughout our history, war has come to us. Throughout our history, Naboo has endured. We have survived, rebuilt. We have pushed back against oppression, and climbed up the rubble to freedom.
We are a kind people. We are wise.
But we are not weak. We bow because we have respect, but we will not bend. We will not break.
We, the people of Naboo, will never die. We will never surrender.
To those of you who choose to fight, to my citizens in the streets defending your home, Stand now and know that you will never be forgotten. Not for an instant. Your sacrifices will not be in vain. Those of you who fight, never forget what you fight for. You do not fight for the Protecturate. You do not fight for your government. You do not fight for your Queen.
You fight for your children, your lovers, your friends, and your neighbors. You fight for the stranger passing you in the street. The man behind the counter at the store. The woman crossing the street.
You fight for each other. You fight for your home.
When this is over, when we scramble up the rubble of our old homes, when we observe the damage of our once beautiful lives, we will not cry. We will not mourn.
We will raise our hands in triumph and honor those who gave their everything. We will honor Naboo.
We will survive. We will endure. We will rise again.
I am Naboo.
No.
We are Naboo."
With that, the transmission ended. One final word from their Queen. A speech spoken from the heart. Words from the world herself. Imperfect. Unpracticed.
"I love you," she whispered, stepping forward to gaze out the window at the city below. The clock was ticking. She had very little time now. She said it. If this was to end tonight, it was a fitting farewell.
After a moment, she turned, the tears that had sprung to her eyes previously were dry, never allowed to spill over.
"We are Naboo," she repeated, never knowing that below, in the streets, in the safe houses all around the planet, those very words were being repeated like a prayer. A chant, almost like song.
This was the power of inspiration. Now she was going to fan the flame she had started until it was a ranging inferno.
She suddenly sunk down to her knees, hands folded in the folds of her white gown.
"I need complete peace while I do this. Prevent intruders as best you may, but do not concern yourself with me. I know what risk I am taking."
Her eyes closed, and she withdrew into herself, searching her own will, testing her strength. Then, like a supernova, her strength was everywhere, in everyone chanting in the streets, waiting for the fight.
Her ghosts burned away to ash.
This was the fire.
[member="VlPER"]
efending the Station
