Alien Crossfire Chapter 10

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Nelani walked behind Anakin, her frustration and fear waging war in her heart. She glanced up at him, at his back, as he purposefully strode down the hallway, intent upon something.

What that was, she had no clue.

Sometimes, she wondered if even Anakin knew or even realizes why he does the things that he does.

She looked back down at her feet, watching them as they moved on autopilot, following Anakin through the stone corridors of what at one time was their home. The coldness of the castle and the planet itself settled deep in her stomach, growing stronger with her every step. She rubbed her shoulders, trying to physically warm herself up, but the coldness was a spiritual one, unable to be so easily dispelled.

"Are you sure you don’t know where we’re going?"

He did not answer.

She slowly lifted her head, and looked around. Anakin was nowhere to be seen - just a long stretch of hallway. No turns. No doors. No Anakin.

"Anakin?"

Her voice sounded weak even to herself. She took another step forward, and then noticed the door.

She frowned; looking up and down the hallways, trying to figure out where this door had came from. She knew for a fact that it was not there before; that there was nothing on these walls; that she had been in a blank, featureless stretch of hallway.

She looked closer. It was the same as all the other doors that she had seen in Bast Castle. A sheath of metal, slightly recessed from the wall.

She stepped forward and it slid open with a shushing sound, revealing the darkened room beyond. She stepped into the room, her heart pounding away in her chest. She pulled her lightsaber and ignited it, the clean white glow filling the room.

She looked around the empty room, wondering why she was here.

Wondering where Anakin was.

She yelped as the door slammed shut with a solid thud. Slowly turning she found herself once more staring at a blank wall.

She started chewing on her lips as she slowly made a circuit around the room, walking every centimeter of each of the walls. All of which were blank.

She shoved her saber into the wall, and as she did it flickered once. Then again.

And finally sputtered out.

Startled she points the hilt away from the wall and turned it on again. The clean white blade popped into existence without hesitation.

She sliced at the wall again, only to watch her saber sputter and die once more.

She pressed her back against the wall and slowly slid down, feeling horrid, alone.

Rejected.

She cried as she placed her arms around her legs, resting her forehead on her knees.

"Get up."

Startled she looked up to find herself staring at a girl about her age, with hair the color of the sun, and bright shining green eyes.

"What? Who are you?"

"Get up."

Nelani stood; she watched the girl warily - wondering what was going to happen next. The girl stared at her for a moment more. Her voice was filled with vitriol when she spoke again, "You’re not good enough for him."

Her eyes snapped open wide as shock rolled through her; quickly followed by despair and fear.

"I-I… no. I am."

"No you're not. You’re worthless. He still loves me, and you’ll never measure up. You'll never be good enough."

Nelani dropped to her knees again, shaking her head as the tears started to flow. "No. That’s not true."

The girl - and Nelani suddenly realized that she was Anakin’s Tahiri - grabbed her hair and yanked back on her head. "You know it is. Otherwise you wouldn’t be following him around like some lost whisperkit."

She snarled and smacked the girl’s hand away, feeling a shock of pain across her scalp. "You’re dead and a liar! He loves me!"

Tahiri laughed maliciously and Nelani suddenly remembered that she had her saber in her hand. Growling low in the back of her throat, Nelani ignited her saber, feeling more confident in the clean white shine of its blade.

She settled herself into a mid guard as Tahiri ignited her blade, its blue glow throwing highlights over her hair and face.

Nelani attacked, her blade cutting in fast and hard, with a simple flick of the wrist, Tahiri parried the attack away and Nelani could feel her anger growing.

She attacked again, feinting to the left, and as Tahiri raised her blade that way to parry, quickly swung in from the right. Her blade flickered diagonally through Tahiri. Nelani paused, her breath panting hard as she watched the two pieces of the blonde girl fall to the floor.

Then to her horrified eyes, Tahiri’s skin pulled away, pooling as a puddle which Nelani recognized as a masquer.

Nelani wanted to turn away, to not look at the face that was revealed, but she felt compelled to. Unable to not do look.

She stepped closer, and brushed the now black hair away from the face, and found herself staring at her own features. She screamed as she backed away, her back slamming into the wall behind her, where she once more collapsed down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs as she cried.

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Jag stood in front of the big bay window overlooking the scraggly trees which surrounded the Hand of Thrawn. He could see a ghost image of himself in the window, a shock of white hair above a tapered scar running from his hairline down to his right eyebrow, the formal black uniform of Syndic Mitth'raw'nuruodo's household phalanx, attached to the collar was the sparkle of gold which was his commander's insignia. A summer storm pounded against the window, rivulets of water streamed down its transparent surface, and a strong wind caused the short, stunted trees to quiver and shake in the force of nature which was the storm.

Within the room, silence reigned. No hint of noise came through the window.

Jag realized that this was a good example of the Empire of the Hand in general. A firm belief in their own superiority. A firm belief that they were a silent bulwark against the confusion, destruction and unbridled chaos of the galaxy at large.

Yet he could not help but wonder if those forces of nature would not one day overrun the fortress. That entropy would always win, chaos ultimately sunder order.

Then the door behind him opened. He turned around and saw his father walking into the room and quickly saluted.

Soontir Fel settled into one of the chairs situated throughout the room, giving his son an appraising glance.

"I understand you want to take a force back out to the Known Regions."

Jag nodded his head. "Yes sir."

"Why?"

Jag exhaled slowly, taking the time to organize his thoughts. He knew that what he said next would affect his permission to return to the Known Regions.

"Because the Yuuzhan Vong are destroying the Known Regions. It is only a matter of time before they turn their attentions towards us. We need to be helping the others in defeating these beings."

"I don't think the Hand's forces made much of a difference while you were out there."

Jag shrugged his shoulders slightly – recognizing it instantly as a very human gesture. "There was nothing that anyone could have done to save Ithor. And since then the Yuuzhan Vong have used more traditional tactics."

"You've been trained by Chiss tacticians. Tell me: do we have the ships, weapons personnel or for that matter the knowledge to take on these invaders?"

Jag looked at his father. "No sir, we do not," Jag admited. "Permission to speak freely?"

Soontir gestured assent with one of his hands.

"The prevailing theory is that the Yuuzhan Vong have traveled for generations from wherever their home galaxy is to here. A little thing like our section of space being called the 'Unknown Regions' is not likely to stop them."

The baron sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He took a moment to just watch his son. "I agree," he said to Jag's surprise. "Unfortunately, the Chiss Parliament does not, and neither do Imperial leaders. The current invasion path leads towards the Core Worlds, and many in leadership positions believe that is a sign that they will bypass Chiss and Imperial territories."

Jag considered the implications, as he did so his eyes narrowed and he squared his jaw. "The Empire of the Hand has never been ruled by tradition-bound Chiss or power-grubbing Imperial politicians." As he continued, he allowed a wry smile to flicker onto his face. "Was a change-of-policy holocube issued during my time in the Known Regions?"

The general's eyebrows lifted, a scowl darkening his face slightly. Jag inclined his head, acknowledging the impropriety in his statement, but making no apology for it.

After a moment, it appeared that Soontir realized that Jag was not going to apologize and shifted his gaze out the large window, looking at the storm. "Chiss society knows that this phalanx is out here, but they like to pretend that we don't exist. Regardless of the fact that they send their sons and daughters to us for training, and gladly take advantage of the technology of the Empire of the Hand. Likewise, they are willing to accept what we can do for them – but they are insistent that we do it on their terms."

"But we can do more!" Jag stepped forward, an intense expression painted on his face, as he raised one hand in a balled fist. For a moment, his body language lost its stiff formality. "You know what we've faced. The Vong might have caught Fey'la off guard and unprepared, but the Chiss have long expected, and prepared for, something like this. Do not forget that we have beaten back foes that would have walked across the galaxy, leaving little behind for the Vong to conquer now."

The general's lips quirked slightly, and one of his brows shot upward. "You speak of yourself as one of the Chiss. Do you consider yourself one of them?"

Jag blinked; his train of thought broken by his father's words. "I was raised among the Chiss," he carefully began. "It is difficult not to consider myself one. I have always been measured according to their standards, accepted their standards, rules and expectations as my own."

"And you exceeded those expectations. Which is why you now are in command. But what you propose shows little thought for the pilots under your command."

Jag schooled his features, but straightened his shoulders, re-adopting his formal body language. "Sir, may I request a formal listing of my failures so that I can correct them."

"Do you know how to stop the Vong?"

Jag could feel his jaw tighten as he struggled to keep his emotions off of his face. "No, sir."

"Then don't you think you should find out before we commit our forces to an assault?"

Jag could feel his eyes widen slightly, this time unable to keep the expression off of his face as he said, "Sir?"

"Go. Find out how to stop the Vong. Once you have that accomplished, report back and you'll get your squadrons back and more besides."

"Yes, sir!"

Soontir looked up at his son, and tossed a small metal cube to Jag. "Don't get too happy. We just got this holovid from sources in the Core. It contains among other things, an urging from Leia Organa Solo – telling those left behind on Coruscant to not give up, as she has not – despite the loss of one of her children."

"Do we know which one?"

Again, the elder Fel lifted an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Which of Solo's children died?"

"Jacen. The eldest son, I believe." Jag looked down, staring at the floor for a moment. Soontir watched in silence, and then continued his briefing. "With Coruscant fallen, the Republic will be in a lot of disarray. You will be flying into a maelstrom of dissent and most likely be unable to connect with a group with a clear chain of command."

Jag glanced towards the window again, taking a moment to watch as the storm beat silently against the window. "It was what I was trained to do, no more."

"Then it's settled. Also on that holocube are details concerning the latest military updates as well specs on the new long-range scout fighters you will be taking with you. You get to pick which pilots you will take."

"Shawnk'yr'nuroudo, my second-in-command will accompany me, as will Ben." The general started to protest, and Jag lifted one hand to forestall comments. "You said I need to consider my responsibility, and you will need those pilots more than I will. Besides there is no reason to risk Chiss lives needlessly."

"And Shawnk'yr'nuroudo?"

Jag grinned slightly. "She is a true member of a renegade phalanx. She would not stay behind even if I had ordered her to."

Soontir barked a short, sharp laugh. "I see. And your reason for wanting Ben?"

"You know his capabilities. What he is. His skills should prove useful."

Soontir stroked his chin for a moment and then nodded his head, giving permission.

Jag gave his father a stiff, military bow. "I'll be on my way within the hour, sir."

And then he turned and walked away, heading towards Kyrn's quarters to tell her to pack for an extended trip to the Known Regions.

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