Harrar followed his superior, Jakan - the High Priest of the Yuuzhan Vong, as they walked into the darkened chambers. The remains of the greatest of the dead Overlords of the Yuuzhan Vong lined the walls. The shells of their vondum crab armor were dulled, while the gold which coated their bones glistened in the dim orange glow of the lambents, and the diamonds which were their eyes sparkled, a rainbow reflection reminiscent of the ma’ait implants which were their eyes during life.
They slowly advanced, purposeful in their strides, towards the massive polyp throne which was shrouded in darkness. As they neared, they could start to make out the shadowy shape of the Supreme Overlord of the Yuuzhan Vong. A massive being, adorned with the flayed skin of a former Warmaster. Shimmra opened his eyes, and they emitted a rainbow glow, brilliant in their clarity and frightening in their intensity, a display of every-changing colors which evoked a superstitious awe in both of the priests.
Arriving at the appropriate, respectful distance, they each dropped to a single knee, bowing their head in submission. Harrar could hear the shuffling of the others of Shimmra’s court arriving, kneeling in their appropriate places, he quickly glanced to the left and right, seeing Tsavong Lah and a shaper whose name he did not know.
Shimmra’s voice was dark and ominous, the sound of thunder and explosions. "Rise."
Harrar quickly stood, and saw Jakan - who was slightly ahead of him - do so as well. The sound of armor told him that others in the hall had as well. He stood in silence, watching the proceedings, wondering why Jakan had brought him here this time.
Suddenly, Harrar spied something truly disturbing to his sensibilities. It was one of the Shamed, lounging on the lower steps. Harrar looked closer at the disfigured creature, the few tufts of hair, poking from different angles, a bulge on one side of the face, and another at the back, twisting the shape of the shoulders.
As if sensing Harrar’s scrutiny, the Shamed looked directly at him, a smile split the festering lips, revealing a lone, pointed tooth, hanging in the empty maw. Amusement sparkled in the insane stare, and Harrar had to look away.
Suddenly, the Shamed bolted upright, and twirled in place, ending the dance with a flourish and a bow directed towards those gathered.
"Can the wise hear?
Can the Elite see?
What are the Shamed up to,
Wonders poor Shamed me."
Then he cackled, and twirled once again, before hunkering down upon his step. His body settled back into that unnatural stillness, his muddy eyes staring out at the gathered Elite.
Shimmra bellowed a laugh. "Yes, yes. I have heard some very disturbing rumors about what the Shamed Ones are doing. Jakan? Do you think you can shed some light on these rumors?"
Jakan bowed his head slightly. "There is a heresy moving among the Shamed. A new dogma stating that the path to salvation lies with the Jeedai."
"What!"
Harrar almost took a step backwards at the Overlord’s bellowed question. As Shimmra stood, he definitely felt the urge to run and hide – to flee from the room in abject terror of the gods’ chosen one.
"This blasphemy must be stamped out immediately! What are you doing to ensure that happens? The Shamed must not revere the Jeedai!"
Jakan knelt down in submission. "Belek tiu, Dread One. We have the priests searching for any hint of this heresy, attempting to trace it back to its source."
With an inarticulate growl, Shimmra darted forward, covering the distance between where he stood and where Jakan knelt in seconds. Harrar watched in amazement, as Jakan was lifted up from his knees and raised above Shimmra’s head.
"The heresy must end now! Yun Yuuzhan demands it!"
Then with a slight grunt, he hurled Jakan over the heads of those gathered. Harrar wanted to turn and watch Jakan’s flight, but was unable to, he felt numb, and awestruck at the physical prowess which Shimmra displayed. Then he heard the sickening crunch which Jakan landed with. He had little doubts on the survival of his superior.
Then Shimmra turned his gaze onto him, and a cold dread settled solidly in his heart, freezing his veins. Numbing everything - except the feel of the icy glare of the scintillating prisms which Shimmra used for eyes.
"Harrar, you have just been escalated. I order you to stamp out this heresy."
Harrar swallowed suddenly, his reactions released from Shimmra’s gaze, and he bowed his head in submission. "I will attend to it directly, Dread One."
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Anakin walked into the medward, Nelani’s hand still gripped tightly in his own - their fingers threaded together. Each of them holding onto the other, neither willing to let go. He allowed his gaze to flicker around the room. Taking in the white walls, the various medical monitors and equipment turned off and stored in their appropriate niches along the walls.
Yet Anakin could not help but feel that there was something missing. That there was a fundamental difference between his previous visit to Bast Castle’s medical ward and this one.
Then Nelani voiced it. "Where’re the droids?"
Anakin looked down at her, noticing how she looked around the room, and frowned again. She’s right. Every other time I visited, I had to tell the droids to go away. I wonder what’s happened to them.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I don’t know. But we go this way."
He walked forward, to a door set along the back wall, and pressed his hand against the activation plate. When nothing happened he did it again. Finally growing tired of it, he pulled out his saber and sliced a large circle out of the door. The chunk of metal fell inward with a loud boom, and Anakin ducked his head slightly to step into the room beyond, being careful to not touch the still molten edges of the door.
As Nelani entered, Anakin turned on the lights, and then turned towards the bacta tank.
Or rather the remains of it. Jagged pieces of glass littered the ground, sparkling in the fluorescent glare of the lights. Anakin’s mouth tightened, as he stepped forward, touching the broken edges of the tank.
"What was in there?"
Anakin glanced over his shoulder to look at Nelani, and gave his head a brief shake. "Tahiri’s body was in it."
He then walked over to a desk, and picked up a large diamond, pocketing the stone, he turned and walked back to the door, anger coloring his face slightly.
"Come on."
Without waiting for a reply, he ducked through the hole again, and left the room; he could hear Nelani scuttling after him. He stepped over to a console, and started hitting commands, pulling up the security system.
And frowned. The system had recorded no access to the castle between the time the Noghri left to meet him on Centerpoint and their arrival today. He glanced behind him, to see Nelani there, watching him, a worried expression on her face. Not saying anything, he headed out the door, and down the hall to the turbolift.
Five minutes later, they were stepping off of the turbolift and back into the hanger. Standing right where they had left him, was Luke. His face was unlined, passive as he watched the two of them, and Anakin had to fight back the urge to yell.
Anakin stopped in front of him, and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling it. Finally he looked Luke in the eyes. "Someone took Tahiri’s body."
"Who would do that?"
"I don’t know. The security system says that no one has been here."
Luke raised an eyebrow slightly. "What does the Force say?"
Anakin shook his head. "I’m too angry right now. Let’s just go back to the Venture. It was just her body, not her."
Luke nodded his head. "Go ahead and board, I’d like to talk to Nelani for a moment."
Anakin looked between the two of them, and then bowed slightly. "Okay, Uncle Luke."
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Tenel Ka stood silently in her opulent quarters. She ignored the gem and gold encrusted furniture which was situated throughout the room. She ignored the tidbits of technology and the diversions they could provide. She even ignored the Force itself, closing herself off from that wellspring of information and comfort, not wanting to feel the emptiness which had flooded it since Jacen died. Not wanting to feel the slow wasting away of her mother.
Without really seeing it, she stared at an armoire. It was an ornate piece of furniture which had been in these rooms for centuries. The wood was polished to a high shine, which allowed Tenel Ka to see a reflection of herself situated deep in the red-browns of the wood. The small gold knob was offset by the brass hinges, buffed to a matte finish.
She had not looked into that particular armoire in years. Not since her accident. She knew what it contained, and has known since its contents were placed within the specially designed hanger.
She closed her eyes, and pulled open the doors. The near silent creak sounding loud in the stillness which surrounded the young princess.
Within the armoire, she found something that she did not ignore.
What she did not ignore - what had her full attention - was a piece of biomedical machinery. A machine which her grandmother attempted to have grafted onto her, just a few days after the lightsaber accident which cost Tenel Ka her arm. She allowed her gaze to travel over the smooth lines of the artificial limb, noting the perfection, the artistic triumph which this recreation of her lost arm was.
She sighed, as she once again considered why she refused to have it attached. A testament to her own will? A memento to not give in to her own arrogance? A subtle jab at the Hapan way of life, and its focus on physical perfection over moral decay.
She shrugged; the reasons which were so profound at fourteen seemed irrelevant and pointless at nineteen. Then she picked up the arm, even as she did so, she wondered if this was why her grandmother stored it in this room, in this armoire, all those years ago.
She turned with a warrior’s grace and walked through the hallways down to the medical ward. A doctor rushed over and bowed to her.
"Chume’ta, how may I help you?"
Tenel Ka thrust the limb towards him. "I am ready to have this attached."
The doctor nodded his head. "I understand, your Highness. If you will follow me."
The doctor turned and beckoned to a nurse as he headed deeper into the medical ward. Tenel Ka tuned out all those distractions and followed him.
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Her name was Seef Tho, she was a warrior of the Yuuzhan Vong, and her former assignment was the villip tender for the Warmaster. A noble position, until Shimmra ordered the warriors to procreate and she caught the Warmaster’s eye.
Today was like many of her days recently, she spent her time in the Warmaster’s room, waiting his return, so they could once again attempt a successful mating.
She had curled her body around the polyp which she used as a pillow. Her hands clenched and unclenched systematically as she considered the things that she had done over the past few weeks.
The things done to her by Tsavong Lah.
Even now, she was locked away here, in his private quarters. Awaiting his return - waiting to be used again. Used until she has become pregnant with his scion.
Intellectually, she knew that she should be happy. That it would mean an increase in prestige for her domain and her family. To be included into Domain Lah.
Yet in spite of that honor, pain washed through her heart and soul. One that had nothing to do with physical discomfort. It was the pain of being used.
Of being nothing more than the Warmaster’s plaything, so that he could bear yet another child for the Yuuzhan Vong war effort.
And what made the pain even more devastating was that she had been promised to another warrior, a crèche mate by the name of Lotva Ka. She smiled weakly as she thought of her betrothed. Her smile faltered as she realized that now he would have nothing to do with her--she was another male’s mate.
Despair struck deep in her heart, and she clung tighter to the polyp, her tears leaving a dark stain on the velvety skin.
She lifted her hand, and clenched her hand into a claw shape, watching as the nails elongated into deadly sharp talons. She pressed the five tips against the hollow of her throat, feeling as they slowly sunk into her flesh.
She longed for the release of death.
The ending of all that she is, was, and could possibly be.
Yet something stopped her. The fact that she was a warrior of the Yuuzhan Vong, and this was an ignoble way to die. She snarled slightly, as she realized what she should really be doing: destroying the one who had used her.
Her lips peeled back from her teeth in a silent snarl as she hatched a plan.
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