A Life Not His Own: Chapter 10

Nelani can feel frustration surge through her. She has been trying to assemble her lightsaber for over a week now. The mechanical components fit perfectly together, and the slot designed for the focusing crystal is the perfect size for the lambent.

Yet once assembled, it fails to actually work.

She has disassembled and reassembled it four times, and each time the saber refused to charge, refused to emit that beam of coherent light. When she tries to season the weapon with the Force, it flows through the mechanical aspects and bypasses the lambent entirely.

She can feel the lambent whispering its song in her mind, but not the Force, and she can feel the pieces of the saber in the Force.

But when she tries to sense the saber as a whole, she fails.

She leans back in her chair, thinking of the lessons Lord Vader had given her on saber construction. As she closes her eyes, meditating she can almost hear his deep mechanical voice.

“The lightsaber as a weapon is greater than the sum of its parts. In the hands of a trained Force user, it becomes an extension of that Jedi’s will, and abilities. It becomes as much a part of you as your hand or foot.”

She suddenly leans forward in her chair, a small smile coming to her lips. The Vong biot can’t be felt in the Force, but she can hear it. The other components she can’t hear, but can feel in the Force.

Then she has an epiphany. She understands the problem. Her lips twist into a full smile, and she almost laughs out loud. The connection between the two is within her, not within the physical parts of her saber. She is the joining agent between the inanimate materials, and the Vong biot.

The smile still pasted to her lips, she begins assembling the pieces once more. Once all the parts are in place, she reaches out with the Force, bathing the saber within the warm accepting glow which is the Force; she opens herself up to it, drawing it around her, to her.

She flicks the switch to begin recharging the power supply and closes her eyes. As she focuses the Force, she also talks to the lambent, encouraging it to become a part of the metal around it.

She feels the Force flow through the weapon, melding it, changing it, and merging its pieces. She is amazed at how the Force works, modifying the weapon on a molecular level.

Then she realizes that the same thing is happening to her. Making changes to how she acts and reacts, deepening her trust of the Force. She wonders if this is what it means to be a Jedi.

Then the world falls away, and she realizes that she is no longer sitting in her chair, the disparate parts of her saber are no longer in her hands. Now it is whole. A smoothly polished cylinder, held loosely in her hand.

She looks around, and finds herself in smoky darkness. Nothingness surrounds her. Then she hears a sound from behind her and she spins around.

Before her stands a figure in a dark cloak, an evil and menacing air is around her, and Nelani takes an instinctive step back away from the figure. Her thumb moves to the activation plate of her saber.

Her voice wavers. “Who’s there?”

The voice is low and menacing and definitely feminine. “You know who I am.”

Nelani shakes her head. “No, I don’t. Step closer so I can see you.”

The figure steps closer, and lowers the cowl of her cloak, revealing luxurious dark black hair, and Nelani’s facial features, except they are older, more mature. But what startles Nelani the most, is the figure’s eyes, one is the ice-blue of her own color, the other is a sickly yellow tinged with red.

“Is this close enough for you?”

She quickly nods her head, and when the figure smiles at her, Nelani has the overwhelming desire to scream.

“Good. I shall tell you this once. You are a shatter point. One way, you shall be a slave to the Dark Side, the other a servant to the Light Side. Soon you will have to make a choice and a stand.”

“I don’t understand.”

The figure starts to disappear. “Remember this, in the darkest of times, the smallest of lights shine brightest and are the easiest to snuff.”

Then the figure is gone, and Nelani finds herself sitting once more in her chair, the saber she built held lovingly in her hands. She stands, feeling a few of her joints crack, and takes a step back from her desk.

She holds the saber out in vertically in front of her, and thumbs the ignition switch. A snap-hiss, followed by the steady thrum of a lightsaber greets her ears. She opens her eyes to find herself staring at a lightsaber blade without color, just a shining shaft of bright, clean, white light.

She swings the blade, a smile growing on her face as the weapon’s thrum changes as it moves through the air.

She shuts down the saber, and rushes out into the common area, searching for her master. “Lord Vader!”

He looks up from the datapad held in his hands. “Yes?”

With her smile still plastered on her face, she holds her saber up for his inspection. He takes it from her hand, nodding his head as he looks over the weapon. Then he holds it out, and ignites the blade. His gasp at its appearance overrides the normally steady breathing. “I’ve never seen this color before. Well done Nelani.”

He shuts down the weapon and holds it out to her. She lovingly takes the weapon, a blush creeping on her cheeks at his praise. “Thank you Master.”

As he returns to his datapad, she wishes once again he would remove his mask.

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Jaina is in the pagoda, her legs crossed, her eyes shut as she floats half a meter above the ground. She is pulling her emotions and feelings in tight, wrapping them up into durasteel and then locking them away.

She is tired of being hurt by death.

She sighs as her physical body intrudes on her meditations, and tries to push the distraction away. A moment later it comes again, someone rubbing something soft and tickly on her cheek.

The distraction is enough this time, and she feels herself drop the half meter to the ground. She lets out a low growl of frustration and pain as she looks up to see who had been annoying her. She finds herself staring at Kyp Durron.

He gives her a big smile, which Jaina is certain is fake.

“What do you want, Durron?”

“Just to talk.”

She cocks an eyebrow, trying to figure the older Jedi out. “What? Don’t have any friends?”

Kyp barks a laugh. “No, it’s nothing like that; I wanted to talk to you about Jedi stuff.”

Jaina leans back, trying to figure out what he is going on about. “Sure, what did you want to talk about?”

Kyp looks off towards the distance for a second. “I want you to think about something, don’t answer right now, but think about it.” He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’d like you to become my apprentice.”

“What?!”

Kyp laughs. “Well, you’ve not been able to spend a lot of time around Master Skywalker, and she’s been doing more things with Anakin anyways. It seems like you still need some training, and someone out here, fighting the Vong like you have been, needs someone out here doing the same. You need someone like you.”

Jaina frowns, the skin tightening around her eyes, as they close slightly. “And that someone is you?”

Kyp nods his head, and she looks around for something to throw.

Unable to find something she shakes her head, and says through clenched teeth, “I don’t think so.”

Kyp stands up. “I’m not taking your answer right now. Think about it, and come to me when you’ve made up your mind for real.”

“Aunt Mara is my master.”

Kyp shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever you say, Princess. But ask yourself this, if she’s your master, why is she always teaching Anakin?”

Then he turns from her, and starts walking down the steps of the pagoda. Jaina, lost in thoughts over Kyp and his proposition, ignores his leaving.

She settles back down, frustration and confusion welling up within her. She tries to meditate, and lets out a low growl - which quickly turns into a scream when she is unable to calm her mind enough to do so.

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The pain spikes, and then another cortex expands before her, an Eighth Cortex. As the pain fades away, Nen Yim gasps in awe as she delves into the new cortex.

There arrayed before her are the weapons which have been handed down at the beginning of the war.

Then her heart falters, and her hope falls away. A handful of new weapons, a dozen or so new tricks, that is all that the Eight Cortex contains. That feeling of dead and static knowledge once more falls upon her as she wonders how her people will survive when they cannot innovate new weapons and defenses against the Infidels.

She allows her consciousness to wander around the Cortex, hoping to find something, anything.

It’s empty!

Her mind cries that out over and over again. The sum totality of Yuuzhan Vong knowledge is useless. The Infidels can already match every item within the Eighth Cortex, and they produce new weapons and tactics constantly.

She returns to her body, the despair following her from the Qang Qahsa. As she opens her eyes, she finds herself looking into the demented gaze of Kae Kwaad.

He looks at her for a moment more and then cackles a laugh. “So, you have found our greatest and most shameful secret. The hidden Eighth Cortex. You understand.”

Nen Yim leans back in her chair-biot. “Yes, I understand. There is nothing left. While we may defeat the Infidels initially, they will ultimately defeat us, as they are not restricted in what they can devise.”

She closes her eyes, and utters another phrase, “Mezhan Kwaad.”

Nothing happens; Nen Yim frowns as she looks towards the basket of mature grutchin. Kae follows her gaze. “I assume that was the trigger for the grutchin you altered. I took the precaution of destroying them.”

His smile is enough to turn Nen Yim’s stomach, as she seriously considers throttling the insane Master with her bare hands.

Kae stands. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

Kae holds out his hands to either side. “My dear Nen Tsup, must you always question everything? Why? Why? Why! Why not? Besides, you are not truly in a position to deny my commands now are you my dear heretic?”

Nen Yim sighs and stands as well, once more pushing off her desire to kill him. “Where are we going?”

Kae laughs again. “Why, to see Shimmra of course.”

Nen Yim’s heart plummets, and dread takes root in her soul. As he walks past her personal artifacts, he grabs her qahsa and tosses it at her. “You will need this I believe.”

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Yal Phaath watches as his voxyn hunts the infidels. It does not matter the terrain or the prey, the voxyn succeeds.

He grins as one of the infidels is impaled by one of the many spikes found on the voxyn’s tail, knowing that the flesh eating bacteria which infect those spikes will ensure he dies horrifically, even if the voxyn doesn’t kill him itself.

He turns towards the Executor who stands silently beside him watching the voxyn perform. Yal Phaath smiles at Nom Anor.

“So, do you appreciate our efforts now, Executor?”

Nom Anor looks at him. “They perform admirably against the normal Infidels, but you have yet to test them against the Jeedai. I will not believe their abilities until they are past that test. If they do not succeed against Jeedai, then they are a gross misuse of resources. The Vagh Rodiek are being created, and their early tests show them much better at destroying normal infidels.”

Yal snarls at Nom Anor. “Are you challenging me, Executor?”

Nom Anor shakes his head, an oddly human gesture. “Not at all Master Shaper. I’m just withholding judgment, until I see proof.”

“The Warmaster has promised me Jeedai to be hunted. The other possible solution is to send it on out to the field, and have it hunt them there.”

Nom Anor strokes his chin, and turns back towards the shaper. “That is a possibility, and I believe I know exactly how to do that for you. Now, while you are here around this planet, I have a second item that you might wish to look into.”

Yal’s headdress twists into a sign of interest. “What is that?”

“The ysalamri, the food of the vonskyrs, have the unique ability to strip a Jeedai of their powers. Their drawback is that they are to bulk to carry. I want one that we can hand out to our warriors.”

Yal grins. “An interesting challenge. I will look into this.”

Nom Anor grins as well. “Then this has been a profitable visit.”