A Life Not His Own: Chapter 18

Anakin twists his head, looking around the small cell. Like everything else Vong, the room is a living thing, the walls pulsing slightly as if they are breathing. He struggles against the blorash Jelly which holds him tight against a bone spar which runs from floor to ceiling. Nestled on a small shelf by the door is an animal about the size of a hoojib, with short bristling fur and a glowing stomach.

The door puckers open and Anakin watches the warrior as he comes into the room. The humid air of the Vong vessel feels odd on his bare flesh after so many months of being locked behind the armor. The ice chips which are his eyes follow every movement the warrior makes.

The warrior snarls at him. “I am not allowed to kill you Jeedai. I find that a horrible restraint against my honor.”

“I’m sorry.” Anakin allows one side of his mouth to twitch in amusement, and gives an earnest bob of the head. “Really, I am.”

“You cannot mock me Infidel.”

Anakin barks a short laugh. “Yes I can, you can just be too stupid to understand when I’m mocking you.”

The warrior’s fist strikes out, catching Anakin on the side. The four spines on the warrior’s fist digs into the side of Anakin’s bare chest, and then the warrior rips his fist away. Anakin’s jaw clenches but he does not scream.

The warrior growls in frustration. “A worthy sacrifice and I’m unable to offer you to the Gods myself. What a despicable situation.”

The warrior’s other fist comes in fast, and the sound of a breaking rib echoes in the small cell, but Anakin still does not make a sound.

The warrior pulls out a small animal, and flicks his wrist. The animal unrolls itself, to a length of just over a meter, as it hardens into shape, Anakin looks at it, reminded of a baton. The warrior hefts it a few times, thumping one end into his other palm. He looks down at Anakin – towering over him – an appearance of happiness shining in his eyes. The thunk echoes in the small chamber as the warrior slaps the baton-animal onto his opened palm. “This is a louaton. Similar to the coufee, but it does not have a cutting edge.”

Then the warrior slams the louaton on the side of Anakin’s chest, just above the four gashes. As his body twists and sways with the blow, Anakin still refuses to make a sound.

The warrior snarls as he strikes again, the strike is accompanied by the crack of a breaking rib as it echoes throughout the room.

Fire flashes in the warrior’s eyes, as he puts the louaton back into a pouch on his belt. “If you will not make music for me, I will have to go visit the other Jeedai.”

Horror flashes in Anakin’s eyes, and he lets a low growl come from his throat. “Do not touch her you honorless worshiper of Yun Shuno.”

The warrior laughs as he backhands Anakin across the face. Then he strides from the room. Anakin strains to hear, to escape. He snarls in anger and frustration as he struggles against his bonds.

As the first scream reaches him, a low growl erupts in his throat, and he struggles harder against the borlash jelly which holds him fast to the bone spar.

The ship shudders, and there is no additional screams. Yet Anakin refuses to let go of his hate. He lets it burns there in his heart, the desire to make them pay for hurting Nelani a bright light within his chest. Still he struggles against his bonds, finally falling limp and exhausted.

He stares at the door for hours, waiting for the warrior to return.

And when he does, the warrior is not alone, Anakin watches as the five warriors enter his cell, and his eyes glitter darkly, a cold fire indicative of his rage. They are laughing to themselves, laughing at him. They pull him from the wall, and push him forward, one picking up the animal with a glowing stomach.

Anakin nods his head, understanding that that is what is keeping his Force powers at bay. He steps through the door, and sees another five warriors out there waiting for him. Before he can do anything, he is pushed from behind.

“Walk Jeedai.”

Anakin casts a glance behind him, and then strides forward, each step his hate and anger growing.

They lead him down a ramp-tongue and out onto the surface-port of a worldship. He looks up, and sees a planet hanging like a jewel above them. Anakin frowns as the warrior behind him pushes him again. He knows that he has seen that planet before, but cannot place it.

Then it comes to him. Mrykr.

--------------------------------------

Nelani raises her head, just that simple movement makes everything scream in pain once again. She tries to free her arms, but they are still stuck behind her in the blorash jelly. Across the room, she can see the small animal with a glowing stomach. A solzan one of the Vong called it. And it is the source of her current lack of powers.

She lowers her head, as the past once more flows over her.

She is lying on the ground, the Force suddenly gone from her and the wound on her shoulder tripling in pain. Through the pain and haze, she sees her Master assuming a fighting stance. Yet her heart despairs as multiple warriors and some bird-like creature emerge from the forest.

She hears the bird creature speaking, threatening her life. There is the simplicity of truth to the bird’s statements. If Lord Vader fights, there is no chance for her survival.

She wants to tell him to not worry about it. To save himself.

Yet he drops his saber, sacrificing his freedom to ensure that she lives just a little while longer. Part of her despairs over this, that they both are being captured.

Yet another, greater part of her soars. He values her that much.

The door yawns open, and Nelani is jolted out of her memories, pushed back into the present as the warrior strides in, his armor glistening sickly in the orange light from the Vong biots. She lowers her head, not wanting to see him.

Then there is a fire in her head, as he grabs her hair and yanks her head up; she grits her teeth biting back the pain which days ago would probably have been enough to incapacitate her. She wonders about this, could being exposed to pain immunize her to it? Make it more and more bearable?

Her eyes focus on the warrior, on his tattered lips, and missing nose. His exposed cheek muscles twitch, and amusement rolls over the warrior’s face.

“Jeedai, I must deliver you alive to Myrkr. But fortunately for me, that is the limits to my orders.”

He drops her head, and slams his fist into her cheek, the spiked implants on his knuckles drive through her skin, and she screams in pain as her head whips around from the force of the blow.

“What beautiful music we make together Jeedai.”

From the corner of her eye she can see him pull his fist back, and she winces, bracing herself for the impact. Then the ship shudders slightly, and the warrior drops his fist, looking towards the front of the ship. Growling he stalks from the room. The door closes behind him, and Nelani slumps against her restraints, blood from her cheek running down her face and dripping to the floor.

She lets out a little sob, wondering what is going to happen to her next, where her Master is. Ultimately she wonders if he is even still alive.

She hangs in the cell for hours, the blood on her face drying to a hardened scab even as her heart breaks more and more. Then the door opens and two warriors walk in. One picks up the solzan, the other releases her from her bonds. She collapses to the ground and the warrior who released her kicks her. She doubles over and around her stomach, her breath rushing from her, as she fights back the urge to vomit.

“Get up Jeedai!”

Nelani struggles to stand fighting back her tears, sniffling slightly. One reaches down and drags her into a standing position by her hair; once they get her to her feet they push her forward. She stumbles out of the door.

“Walk!”

She winces at the brighter light of the hallway and is pushed again from behind, ordered to not stop. She is eventually led out of the ship, and she gasps as she sees a planet hanging above them. Bright, shining and beautiful. She wonders which one it is.

Then she is pushed from behind again, and led inside the worldship, through a processing area and pushed into another, larger cell. In the corner is a human male, wearing black pants and nothing else. He is crumpled and lying in a ball curled up around himself, a wound oozing slightly on his side.

With a wet slurp the door closes behind her, and she spins that way, hearing the laughter of the guards.

She sinks to her knees, the tears she has been fighting since she was led from her other cell finally starting to fall. Through her sobs she is able to say four words, “Master where are you?”

“Nelani?”

His voice is weak, barely a whisper, but it cuts through her tears. She stands and spins in one fluid motion, dropping into a fighting stance over the screams of her battered body. She sees the man in the corner with his head lifted towards her, his ice-blue eyes staring at her, an almost smile on his lips. She cocks her head slightly, as she readjusts his age, putting him not as a man, but older than boy, a teenager about the same age as herself.

There is something familiar about him.

“Nelani.”

His whisper of her name is almost a prayer, a supplication, a reverent demand. He struggles to stand, wincing in pain from the wound to his side, and with worry she steps towards him, her natural compassion overriding her shyness. He gives up his struggle, and collapses back to the ground.

“Nelani.”

Then she recognizes him. She had been looking at his picture just a few months before Rodia. Anakin Solo.

She steps forward, closer to him. “Master?”

He barks a laugh, wincing again in pain. “Some Master I turned out to be.” He places his head back on the stone floor, and begins staring at the wall again. She moves to his side, and sits beside him, pulling his head onto her lap, and stroking his hair.

“It will be all right. We must have faith in the Force.” She hesitates for a moment, before speaking again in a low whisper. “Anakin.”

His body hitches, and she can feel tears as they start to soak into the legs of her pants. One of his arms snakes around her, clinging to her desperately. His reply is barely above a whisper. “I was so worried about you. I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

She looks down at him, continuing to stroke his hair. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

-----------------------------------------------

The planet Coruscant, a giant ball of silver hanging in space. It is a planet covered almost exclusively with constructs of durasteel and duracrete. Millions of billions of sentients live on it.

It has the single greatest population in the galaxy, and has been the home of the galactic government for at least 25,000 years.

Throughout its long history it has changed hands between governments dozens of times. Most recently the New Republic wrested it from the hands of the Imperial Remnant. It is protected by dual layered shields, thousands of Golan II space platforms, and the Home Fleet, comprised of seven battlegroups, with each battlegroup containing an Imperial Mark II star destroyer, three Mon Calamari Dauntless-class cruisers, and a host of lesser capital ships.

The Advisory Council, in an effort to protect the heart of the New Republic, has ordered Fleet groups One, Two and Three to return to Coruscant and take up protective orbits. Each of these fleet groups is three times the size of Home Fleet.

It is the single greatest gathering of warships since the Battle of Coruscant during the Clone Wars.

And as the Yuuzhan Vong start arriving; it quickly becomes obvious that it is not enough.

Supreme Commander Sien Sovv stares at the holographic representation of the system, his chubby jowls tightened in concentration. He looks up at the humans and bothans and Mon Calamari who makes up his command staff.

“No matter what, we must keep the planetary shields up. That is our most powerful defense.”

He looks towards a communications technician. “Give me a fleet wide and planetary defense com channels.”

The technician nods her head, and punches a few keys. Then looks at him, and points a finger.

Sien nods his thanks. “Defenders of Coruscant and the New Republic, the Yuuzhan Vong are here. To those manning the planetary shields, I urge you to remain at your posts. Ensuring the shields stay up is the primary consideration, because the shields are the last, best hope for Coruscant. To all forces in orbit, if the shields go down, that is an Omega signal. Your Fleet commanders know the rendezvous point for that eventuality. Obey your commanders, and fight with everything you have. We can prevail against the Yuuzhan Vong. May the Force be with you.”

He shuts off the comlink, and looks around the group surrounding the holographic table. “May the Force be with us all.”