A Life Not His Own: Chapter 8

Tsavong Lah dismisses the prefect before him, and rubs his eyes. He despises this time of day, having to deal with the administrative duties of leading the giant war machine of the Yuuzhan Vong. The internecine squabbling and bickering of various castes and domains is enough to wish he had sacrificed his ears decades ago.

He glances at the qahsa set beside him, and realizes that he only has a single audience left. He signals the guard at the door, who disappears outside of it for a moment. He exhales slowly, hoping that this audience will be swift.

The warrior returns, followed by a priestess of the deception sect. She bows, her living smock twisting around her. “Thank you for seeing me Warmaster.”

“What do you require of me, Priestess?”

“There was a Priestess of the Deceoption Sect, one Elan who was sent into the Infidels in an attempt to destroy the Jeedai.”

Tsavong nods his head. “I remember.”

“She had a familiar. It has returned to us, claiming to know a great many things about the Infidels.”

“I fail to see what this has to do with me.”

“She claims that she can only speak her secrets to you.”

Tsavong Lah strokes his chin, staring at the priestess for a full minute. Finally he nods his head. “Have her purified, and then I will see her.”

The priestess bows, and retreats from the chamber.

Two days later, the purification is done. He stands outside her small cell, and stares at the toolith, which monitors the interior of the cell, providing audio and visual feed from within. He frowns at what he sees. The familiar, Vergere, sits on reverse-articulated legs, her large dark eyes staring at the wall in front of her. She has neither smile nor frown on her face. Perfectly immobile, neither asleep nor truly awake, she waits.

Finally he decides there is nothing else to do but talk to her. He presses a nerve cluster and the door rolls away. Confidently he walks into the cell, and looks down at the small avian creature which bows itself in submission.

“I am Tsavong Lah; tell me what you know of the infidel Jeedai . . . especially Jacen Solo.”

Vergere’s head cocks to the side, as she looks up at the large warrior, her eyes dark and penetrating. After a moment, she bobs her head. “I shall obey.”

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Jacen Solo and Ganner Rhysode eye each other warily. Neither of these two Jedi truly likes the other, and both are wondering why they have been summoned to see Luke Skywalker in the med center of the Errant Venture.

After a moment, a haggard looking Valin Horn steps out, and looks at the two older Knights. “The Master is ready for you now.”

They follow Valin back into the room, and Luke looks up from his wife. Jacen, upon seeing her ashen form, gasps aloud. Luke looks between Jacen and Mara before nodding his head.

“Yes, the disease has come back stronger.”

“The baby?”

“Currently the baby is fine. Mara is pouring most of her energy into ensuring that.”

Sadness rolls across and from Jacen. “I’m sorry Uncle Luke.”

“Thank you Jacen, but that is not why I asked the two of you to come here. By now you both should have seen the video of this new Darth Vader.”

Jacen and Ganner give matching affirmatives.

“Good. Your task is simple, find out who is behind that mask, and do whatever is necessary to stop him.”

Jacen looks down at the floor, scuffing his boot against the durasteel deck. “Master, I think I know who it is.”

Both Ganner and Luke look at him. “Who?”

“Anakin.”

Jacen can feel the roll of shock that comes from the two, and sighs.

“Jacen, I know the two of you have had your disagreements, but certainly you don’t think he has fallen to the Dark Side.”

Jacen looks towards his uncle. “Fallen or not, I don’t know, but I do know that he is close to it, his Force presence is coated in pain, misery and darkness, and he has been gone since before this new Vader appeared.”

Luke rubs his face with his hands, feeling the beginning of a headache appearing. “I want proof, Jacen.”

Jacen bows slightly, “Yes, Uncle Luke.”

“Good. This is important. The Jedi don’t need another public relations disaster. If the public thinks we’re all starting to turn into Darth Vaders, more of us will be turned over to the Vong.”

Luke glances back at his wife, and then turns once more to Jacen and Ganner. “Be safe out there. May the Force be with you.”

Then he turns from them, taking up his vigil beside Mara once more. Jacen and Ganner share a look, and then turn from the room, going to the hanger to begin their mission.

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P’kar Slooth stands once more in the midst of devastation. Surrounding him are the bodies of a legion of Chazrach. He looks down at the reptilian animals the Yuuzhan Vong use for shock troops, a sneer on his face. Lifting his eyes, he glances out towards the grashals and damutaks which once dotted the city around the training fields here.

In their place are the still smoking pieces of shell, the shattered remains of Yuuzhan Vong biot-buildings. Some of the pieces are big enough to hide a warrior behind, but most are just chunks of coral, no longer than his arm.

Out beyond the broken remains of the training camp, are the training fields themselves. Battered and scared infidel buildings. Their very presence an affront to him, yet he understands the necessity as the warriors and Chazrach need to be trained.

He once more looks around the devastated landscape, seeing the ten warriors sent with him to find out what happened. Even now, they are walking among the ruins, searching for someone who the gods have not yet claimed.

P’kar sighs, as he considers the fact that not even the Shamed were spared this time. What manner of Jeedai is this that he walks through warriors and legions of shock troops, as if they were nothing but the lowliest shamed infants?

A Subaltern walks towards him, bearing an inverted villip. P’kar lifts the creature, and sees the head of his second in command T’Io Slooth.

“Report.”

“The Yammosk reports that there has been no Infidels arriving or leaving. The same as what happened on Lorrd. Whoever did this just appeared, and then disappeared.”

P’kar mutters a curse. “Keep looking. The Infidel could still be here in system.”

“I obey, Commander.”

The villip reverts back to a leathery ball, and P’kar passes it off to the Subaltern, and once more starts walking around the corpses of Chazrach.

A yell from one of his warriors attracts his attention, and he turns that way. He sees the warrior laying on the ground, at the edge of the training fields, a blackend, single-story structure a backdrop for whatever has happened. P’Kar walks that way, standing over the warrior on the ground. The warrior is bleeding from the temple and P’Kar notices a large rock nearby, a splatter of black Yuuzhan Vong blood on it. He looks up, at the buildings which surround him, a frown rippling the tatters of his lips.

A war cry echoes around him, as rocks begin to fly from the buildings. Then someone steps to the ledge. A Shamed One, his face darkened, painted into a death’s head mask. In his hand he holds a metal sword, with electrical discharge running up and down it, lending it a blue glow. An abomination, which the infidels call a vibrosword.

The Shamed One hefts the sword high. “For redemption! For the Jeedai!”

His cry is joined in by a host of others, as Shamed come pouring out of the surrounding buildings, rushing P’kar and his warriors, as they brandish infidel weapons.

P’kar allows his amphistaff to slide down his arm, hardening into cutting form, and rushes towards the advancing line of shamed.

A bright flash of red overrides his vision, and agony sears through his body, as he finds himself flying through the air.

He crashes onto the ground, and his head lolls to the side, where he can see the stump which used to be his shoulder.

He struggles to stand, and a shamed pushes him back to the ground with his foot. P’kar looks up at the Shamed One, who stands over him, sees the smile on the unblemished face.

Then with another flash of red, P’kar ceases to exist.

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Nelani sits beside Vader’s dark form; the rhythmic breathing has become soothing to her over the course of their travels and training.

She watches him from the corner of her eye, a ghost of a smile on her lips, as she considers her master, her mentor. He is quick to anger, and hates the Vong with a passion beyond belief, yet despite the darkness she can feel clinging to him through the Force, she knows that deep down there is a solid core of humanity.

Even though he is draped in darkness both literally and figuratively, she recognizes within him a light, a state of being a hero. She can see it in him, even if he is unable to do so.

And she wonders if she is falling in love with him. Casting her thoughts back, she remembers the rare words of praise, and how they made her feel, the even rarer quip or joke, which would cause her to laugh or giggle.

Turning her attention back to the console in front of her, she notices they only have a few minutes before reversion.

“Nelani.”

Nelani jumps slightly, not used to Vader speaking to her on trips. “Yes, Master?”

“You will pilot the craft and land at the coordinates set into the system. Be wary for any potential Vong craft, as the last time I was here, this system was in their hands.”

Nelani can feel a smile come to her lips. She does not often fly, but it is one of the skills that he has been teaching her. She reaches for the controls, and as the counter hits zero, drops the ship back into real space. As they swing around the orange curve which is Yavin, and come into view of the green orb that is the fourth moon, she can feel a wave of pain from Vader.

She glances at him, but he remains perfectly still. She sighs, once more wishing that he would take off the mask when around her, so she could see his features; that she would have just that little extra visual clue on what he is feeling, above and beyond what she can glean from the Force.

She lands the craft, and turns towards him, noting that he is still radiating pain through the Force. Noticing that he is staring out the viewport, she looks that way and sees a dying Yuuzhan Vong building; she decides to risk a question.

“Is something wrong Master?”

He looks from the building to her. “Just the past.”

Nelani leans back in her seat glancing towards him. “Would you,” she pauses, and looks out onto the verdant world before continuing, “would you care to talk about it?”

He lifts his saber, turning his attention from her to it. “I was pretty much raised here. Where that damutek is, there used to be a Massasi Temple. It housed the Jedi Praxeum. There was a girl here when I was growing up.” He glances at her for a moment. “Her name was Tahiri . . . you would have liked her.”

“What happened?”

“The Vong shaped her. And then the Peace Brigade killed her. They blew up the building she was in, while making me watch.”

She reaches out and places her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He looks down at her hand, briefly touching it with one of his own, before knocking it away. Standing he leaves the cockpit, calling out over his shoulder, “Come, there is much to do. And we are still in enemy territory.”

Nelani can feel her heart drop. She has to remember to control her compassion around him. “Yes, Master.”

She follows him off the ship, and around the damutek, coming upon a field of odd looking plants. She can feel a wave of satisfaction come off Lord Vader. “Good, I had hoped they would leave some, and it appears we are in time for harvest.”

Nelani looks at the plants, confused. She can feel the beginnings of a mild headache, a low drone in the back of her head. She looks around again, and sees Vader kneeling beside a plant. “Master?”

“Come over here, and kneel beside this one.”

Nelani does so. He hands her a small knife, and picks up a bulb from the plant in front of him.

“Now, run your hands down the bulb like this - this attunes the lambent to you. If you’re doing it right, you’ll hear a noise in your head.

Nelani does as he commands, and the low drone spikes into a crystal song for a second. Then Vader’s voice intrudes again.

“Now cut open the husk, being careful not to damage the lambent within.”

She carefully slices away the husk, ignoring the milk-like substance that pours over her hands. Gasping in surprise at the crystal which falls out, she looks towards Vader. “What is it?”

A wave of amusement rolls off of him. “It is called a lambent. The Yuuzhan Vong use them for light sources and control mechanisms. You’re going to use it for a lightsaber crystal.”

“Master? But it’s a plant.”

“It’s a living crystal which the plant produces. They are perfect for lightsabers, and in fact it is the type of crystal I use in mine.”

Anakin gestures towards the crystal in her hand. “Think to your lambent, ask it to come on, and turn off.”

Nelani looks down at the lambent, reaching out to it, commanding it to shine.

She gasps as it emits a bright, shining white light.

She commands it to dim and its glow dims until it is no longer visible in the daylight. She looks up at Vader, an amazed smile on her face. “That’s amazing.”

Vader stands up, motioning for Nelani to follow as he walks them back to their ship. Once they arrive, he hands her the box of pieces which she had gathered and the instructions on how to build the weapon.

“Take your time, meditate. This will be your weapon, and a symbol of your status as a Jedi. We are under no pressure here, and you need to work as long as necessary. I warn you; on occasion there will be visions during the construction of a lightsaber, that is fine. You may lose time during its construction, that is fine. The important thing is that the blade becomes a part of you, an extension of yourself and your will.”

Nelani looks at him for a moment. “I understand, Master.”

“Good, now go build your saber.”