I am Amidala, Queen of Naboo. I am fourteen years old. I did not get to be Queen by being intimidated.
But my first real crisis is here. And I can admit it only in this journal.
I don’t know what to do.
The situation is clear: The people of Naboo are in a stranglehold. The Trade Federation has ringed Naboo with orbiting ships, preventing any supplies from going in or out. Our thriving trade business has been cut off.
Food is scarce. Underneath the eerie quiet in the streets, I sense panic.
The Trade Federation is making an example of us. They pay no attention to the rules of law. And we are caught, helpless, while the Galactic Senate talks and talks and talks.
But if the situation is clear, the reasons for it are not. Why Naboo? That’s what I don’t understand. Why was the Trade Federation so confident that the Senate would not stop them?
Can it be because they think a young, recently elected queen would not have the strength or cunning to resist them?
I can only ask the question in this journal. A queen should never question her strength aloud. She must assume strength, even when she feels uncertain.
That’s why I started the journal. I need a place to ponder possibilities and courses of action. As Queen, I have allies and advisors and counselors. But when it comes to decisions, I am alone. The people will look to me if my decision is wrong, not to my counselors.
Even though I listen to advice, I listen to my instincts most of all. The best way to be in touch with them is by puzzling things out for myself. So my closest advisor is this data pad. It fits in a sleek pouch under my clothes. I don’t go anywhere without it. On a peaceful planet, I think of it as a secret weapon.
I’ve been patient during the blockade. I’ve listened to my Council of Governors, who all advise me to wait. Palpatine, my Senator, is pleading our case before the Senate on Coruscant. He tells me to be patient, too.
But I’ve never been good with patience. For close to a month I’ve waited while the Senate has debated. I am no longer willing to wait.
Just a few days ago, I contacted Valorum, Supreme Chancellor of the Senate. I told him that I am holding him personally responsible for the suffering of my people. Every day he delays he takes bread out of the mouths of the starving children of Naboo.
I must say, Valorum turned pale. I could tell from his hologram that I’d shocked him. Fine with me. I’d meant to.
At least he did something. At this very moment, Jedi ambassadors are meeting secretly with the Federation’s viceroy, Nute Gunray. That foul Neimoidian deserves to be taught a lesson. When the Chancellor calls on the Jedi, he means business. The Federation should crumple like dry leaves.
But I should have heard by now. It’s time to learn what progress has been made.
LATER
For official communications, I always put on my ceremonial robes and powder my face dead white. I paint my lips red and add the red scar of remembrance that splits my lip. It is a Naboo ruling tradition, older than memory, that marks a time of suffering for Naboo, before the Great Time of Peace.
The official trappings are not only a mark of respect to my predecessors. They’re a shortcut to instant authority. When you’re as young as I am, you use everything you’ve got.
Here on Naboo, we elect our rulers democratically. At first, when I announced my intention to run, people scoffed at me. Who is this girl, they said, the daughter of humble farmers? Why should we put our fate in her hands? Even if King Veruna is corrupt, should we trust a child to rule?
They ignored the fact that from an early age, I had been trained by the best teachers on Naboo. They ignored the fact that I had served as ruler of Theed, our capital city, for two years, and could best King Veruna in any debate. And they ignored the fact that I love Naboo with every cell in my body.
Soon, they could not ignore these facts anymore. As I traveled the cities and towns of Naboo, speaking and listening, the people did something extraordinary: They gave me their trust. They began to brag about my age instead of mocking it. King Veruna was ousted, and I was elected by an overwhelming majority.
I asked for their faith, and they gave it. I can’t let my people down.
I decided to conduct the communication to Nute from the formal throne room, with Sio Bibble, Governor of Theed, and Captain Panaka, head of the Royal Security Forces, by my side.
It was the first time I’d directly contacted Nute since the start of the blockade. My strategy was to infuriate him by treating him as though he wasn’t important.
Nute appeared on the view screen. I can’t say I find the Neimoidians a handsome race. Their skin is a dull greenish color that absorbs no light. Their eyes are an alarming yellowish orange. But even a Neimoidian, I’d guess, would never call Nute handsome.
“Again you come before me, Your Highness,” Nute said. “The Federation is pleased.”
Pleased? Did he take me for a fool? It wasn’t hard to see the contempt beneath his oily diplomatic phrases. It made me furious.
Wait, I told myself. One thing I’ve learned is not to let contempt bother me. It means my opponent thinks he’s smarter than I am.
Once upon a time, King Veruna thought that, too. Now he’s farming rocks in the Naboo Wastelands.
“You won’t be pleased when you hear what I have to say, Viceroy,” I told him. “Your trade boycott has ended.”
His smug smile didn’t falter. He said he was not aware of such a failure.
I shot back that I was perfectly aware that the Chancellor’s ambassadors were there. Nute had been commanded to reach a settlement.
To my surprise, Nute didn’t budge from his position. He said he knew nothing about any ambassadors.
I took a beat to study him. He was lying, of course. He must be. Jedi do not fail.
I told him to beware. The Federation has gone too far this time.
He replied that he would never do anything without the approval of the Senate. But something rang false in his words. I felt as though I was in a mist, and couldn’t see ahead. But one thing I was sure of: The Senate would never approve the actions of the Trade Federation. I had to depend on that.
There was nothing to be gained by listening to Nute’s lies, so I cut the communication short and turned to my advisors.
Governor Bibble looked nervous. He thought Nute Gunray seemed unconcerned about the ambassadors… which meant Nute must have something dire up his sleeve.
I half-listened to Bibble. I was already one step ahead of him. I am usually one step ahead of Bibble, but I still value his opinion. He is someone I can trust.
It wasn’t always that way. Bibble had been one of my rivals when I ran for ruler of Naboo. He dismissed me, at first. He was one of those who said I was too young.
But Bibble’s opinion has transformed from casual dismissal to cautious respect to genuine loyalty. I feel the same for him. He would make any sacrifice for Naboo, just as I would.
I didn’t want Bibble to know that I was just as worried as he was. When the Queen looks worried, rumors get started, and people’s faith is shaken. I gave an order to reach Senator Palpatine.
I was relieved when Senator Palpatine’s kindly face appeared on the view screen. Quickly, I told him that there was no sign of the ambassadors.
Palpatine’s welcome changed to a frown. He was mystified. He had received assurances that the Jedi had already arrived.
Then suddenly, the hologram began to waver, and his communication was cut off. I could only catch the words “message” and “negotiate.”
Captain Panaka looked grave. The Federation could have jammed our communication. That was a bold step. Immediat
ely, Bibble jumped to conclusions and shouted, “Invasion!”
I was barely able to keep my irritation in check. He was overreacting. He had to be.
Captain Panaka agreed with me. He couldn’t imagine that the Federation would take such a step. Punishment from the Senate could be severe. The Senate could stop the Federation’s business cold by preventing them from trading with any planet in the Galactic Republic. And Neimoidians are more interested in trade than war.
So why were they risking so much?
I made a decision. The only thing we could do was delay. We had to wait for the Senate to act. We must continue to negotiate.
Bibble was nervous. Panaka was grave. Bibble pointed out that negotiation would be difficult without a communications system or ambassadors. This is why I like him. I can count on him to point out the obvious, just when I don’t want to hear it.
I knew Bibble had a point. Why should we negotiate, when the Federation had made it clear that they had only contempt for our laws and the laws of the Senate? And Captain Panaka was right when he pointed out that an invasion could be disastrous for Naboo. We have many advantages from our generations of peace. But along with that comes a people unused to war and a small security force—well trained, but no match for the droid army of the Federation.
“I will not allow any actions that could lead to war,” I said finally.
Naboo has thrived and prospered during the Great Time of Peace. Maintaining that peace is an obligation that has been passed down from ruler to ruler for generations. I would never let anything jeopardize that. The consequences for my people would be disastrous.
I left the throne room and went to my private chambers. I stood looking out over the city of Theed. My city.
I have a reputation for wisdom, and it’s been hard-earned. My secret is simple. You learn the most by silence. If you stay silent, if you watch instead of act, others reveal truth. Even liars end up revealing more than they want to. Add this to the respect you automatically receive from some fairly complicated ceremonial robes, and you can do right by your people and your world.
I leaned my forehead against the cool window. Below, the great waterfalls of Theed sparkled. Trees and plants surrounded the square in a thousand shades of living green. My planet is a jewel. From deep space, it looks like an emerald. It is a world that I love. I would die before I see my people hurt, my world destroyed.
But am I choosing the right way to protect it?
I have failed. The Federation has invaded Naboo.
It started at dawn. We were unprepared. Of course we were unprepared! We have not had war on Naboo for many lifetimes. The last war scarred our memories. We vowed then that peace would never die.
The reports trickled in. Battle droids landed in huge armies and marched into the towns. They herded up people and forced them into camps. Many people resisted, but the armies overpowered them.
I can see the invaders now from the palace window. My people are confused, crying, shouting. A battle droid just blasted a woman who dared to question it.
I must be strong. I have to keep a clear head. They will be here soon. After they have taken away anyone who can help us. After they have destroyed all resistance. Then they will come for me. But the Queen they find won’t be the Queen they want. Even though I’ve fought the idea, it’s time to follow through with Captain Panaka’s plan.
I am Amidala, Queen of Naboo. But I am also Padmé, handmaiden.
I’ve called one of my handmaidens to my chambers. Her name is Sabé. She is exactly my height and has brown eyes, like me.
She’s the perfect decoy.
The Queen’s handmaidens are an elite group. They aren’t servants, or pretty decorations for the court. They are chosen for their courage and intelligence, and are highly trained in defense. They would give their lives for the Queen and for Naboo.
In other words, they aren’t there to fetch me glasses of nectar. Sabé is the bravest and cleverest of all my attendants. She is also my best friend.
When I became Queen, one of my first meetings was with Captain Panaka to discuss security. He told me that the handmaidens were chosen to be near to my height and weight. Should any danger arise, each of them is prepared to take my place. To be my decoy.
I argued with him. One of my duties as Queen is to accept any danger that might arise from my position.
“This is not a choice of yours!” Captain Panaka said. “This is an established security procedure.”
Finally, we agreed to stop the argument. After all, Naboo had been at peace for some time. What danger could possibly threaten the Queen?
Now, here it was, a larger threat than we could ever have imagined. And though I am prepared to face a thousand droid armies, I have to stop and ask myself what is best for Naboo. My capture could hurt my people. If they know I’ve escaped, it could bring them hope. And I could work to free them.
I called for Sabé, and she entered silently. We just looked at each other for a moment. Tears glittered in her eyes but didn’t fall. On her face was written the same sorrow that was written on mine. The same sick anger. Through the thickness of the palace walls, we could hear the sounds of the droid army and their merciless march into our beloved city.
“It’s time,” I told her. “I have to ask of you something I have no right to ask. Posing as Queen will put you in grave danger.”
She didn’t flinch. She took one look out the window, at the battle droids ringing the square.
“I am ready for whatever happens, Your Highness,” she said quiedy.
“Padmé,” I corrected softly. We exchanged sad smiles.
We barely had time to paint her face white and her lips crimson. I brought out an impressive cloak with black feathers and Sabé slipped it on. Perfect.
Then I slipped off the amulet I always wear around my neck. My parents gave it to me when I left to take on the Governorship of Theed. It’s a stone my father found on our land. My mother fashioned the clasp.
The amulet means everything to me. All the love and protection my parents gave to me is concentrated into that smooth stone. I told Sabé to wear it.
Sabé took a step back, already shaking her head. She knew what the amulet meant to me. But I insisted.
“Take it,” I said. “It’s all I have to give.”
I pray it will protect her. I’ll wear it again when Naboo is free.
LATER
I have slipped into the more simple dress of Padmé. Battle droids are outside in the hallway.
Nute Gunray himself is here. He requires the Queen’s presence in the throne room.
I am ready. I don’t know when I’ll be able to record my next entry. Or where I’ll be.
I will have to steal time for this journal from now on. I’m no longer acting as Queen. Handmaidens are interrupted all the time.
I am aboard the Queen’s transport ship. How I got here is still incredible to me.
But let me start at the beginning.
The battle droids escorted us to the throne room, where Viceroy Nute Gunray waited. With him were Sio Bibble, Captain Panaka, and four of his officers. Nute stood in the middle of the room with his sidekick, Rune Haako.
I had coached Sabé on what was to come. I could guess everything that Nute would say. He was not clever. He went by the book. Eventually, he would resort to threats.
“I brought you here for a purpose, Queen Amidala,” he began.
“I was not brought,” Sabé said, her voice slashing like a sword. “This is my throne room. I do not recognize your authority, Nute Gunray.”
Score one for Sabé! I kept my head down so that Nute couldn’t see the satisfaction in my eyes.
Nute looked furious. He flourished a paper and told Sabé she had to sign a treaty that would legitimize the Federation’s occupation. He has been assured that the Senate will ratify it.
Assured by whom? I wondered. Or was Nute bluffing?
Sabé told him icily that she would not cooperate. Nute didn’t seem
concerned.
“I think you will when you see what we have in store for your people, Your Highness.” He drew nearer, pushing his dull green face close to hers. Sabé didn’t flinch. “I hear that the Queen is compassionate as well as wise. She does not like to see suffering.”
“Do what you will. I will never surrender!” Sabé spit out the words.
Good, I thought. Her tone was exactly as contemptuous as mine would be.
Nute turned away, making a show of being bored. He waved a hand at the droids and told them to take us to Camp Four.
We were forced from the palace into the plaza. Usually, it is bustling at this time of day. People taking in the air, fruit sellers, and musicians. They were in camps now, and the plaza was filled with tanks and battle droids. The fury in my chest multiplied and rose until I could feel it as a bitter taste in my mouth.
We marched past the tanks, toward the side of the plaza. The silence of the city pressed against my ears. I could hear the hum of tanks, the buzz of STAP fighters overhead. The sounds of an occupied city.
Within me, frustration and sorrow battle with guilt. Is this my fault? Have I been naïve?
I tell myself that blame will only slow me down. And in the end, no matter what I could have done or didn’t do, it doesn’t matter. It is my fault. I am Queen.
I make this vow here. I will never be unprepared again.
We turned a corner into a narrow street off the plaza. Suddenly, two men appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. One of them was powerfully built, with a rugged face and clear, piercing blue eyes. The shorter man was younger and slender. They held themselves at ease, but I felt the power in their stillness.
Then a froglike head appeared over the taller one’s shoulder. To my surprise, it was a Gungan. A very nervous Gungan. Quickly, he ducked back again.
The tall man spoke first. He asked Sabé if she was Queen Amidala of the Naboo.
The droid sergeant motioned to the battle droids and ordered them to clear the men away.
Suddenly, the two men drew lightsabers from beneath their robes. They cut down the battle droids as if they were carving up dinner.