Alien Crossfire Chapter 15

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Jaina's X-Wing flashed out of hyperspace, shedding speed as she droped in towards Hapes, the jewel of the Consortium's 63 inhabited planets, home of one of Jaina's oldest and dearest friends, Tenel Ka. And by all reports the location where her parents had fled to after the fall of Coruscant.

She stretched out with the Force, and found the flares of life which are her mother and Tenel Ka and gently brushed each of them, receiving an embrace in return. She turned on the com.

"Hapan Control, this is New Republic X-Wing NRX-111045 requesting clearance to land."

She received the clearance, and banked her X-Wing towards the planet, kissing the atmosphere with a brief flare of incandescence. She twisted the flight yoke, dropping altitude as she headed towards the palace. She looked out the transparent canopy watching as the trees flashed past, the landscape occasionally punctuated by a river or a small clearing.

A few klicks shy of the palace, she flashed over a large clearing. Frowning slightly, she slowed down and banked around circling the clearing, noticing the large city of tents that had been set up.

Refugees. That's a lot of folks. Yanking her thoughts away from those fortunate enough to escape Coruscant, she once more turned her fighter towards the palace. As she neared it, she switched over the sublight engines to her repulsers, slowing down considerably.

The door opened and she noticed a group of people coming towards her. A flash of light attracted her attention and she saw one of the ground crew, directing her towards a landing spot with a light cone. She settled the ship into the space indicated, and quickly performed her post flight check.

Then she cracked the seal to the canopy, pushing it up and out, yanking off her helmet and tossing it back onto her flight couch. She climbed out onto the nose of the craft and ran down it, jumping to the ground when she reached the end. Standing before her was Tenel Ka – dressed in her usual rancor hide armor tunic, but wearing a skirt as opposed to her usual armor shorts. Then Jaina noticed something even more amazing, Tenel Ka has two arms.

She took a step forward, raising her arms and the red-headed girl embraced her. The two laughed, happy to see one another. Jaina pulled away, keeping her arms on her shoulders; she allowed her eyes to drop to the arm and then the skirt. "You've changed some I see."

Tenel Ka gave a small smile. "That is a fact."

They dropped their arms, and Tenel Ka turned to head into the palace, and Jaina stepped into line beside her.

"So, I thought you didn't want an arm."

The Dathomiri girl chuckled. "I just realized it was foolish of me to not have an arm as we fight a war."

They walked in silence through the halls, until they came to the quarters which were Tenel Ka's. She stepped into the opulent rooms, Jaina right behind her. The guards that had followed them from the hangar took up positions beside the door.

Tenel Ka dropped onto a duvet, gesturing for Jaina to join her.

"So friend Jaina, what brings you to Hapes?"

"My Uncle asked me to get my parents."

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Anakin twisted the diamond left and right, allowing the light to catch its surface and refract back towards him – a rainbow of glittering colors. He watched the stone, a solemn reminder of a great evil he had done.

He stood up and crossed over to the door, pocketing the gemstone. He pressed the door release, stepping out into the brightly lit hallway, glancing down at the various doors which lined the crew quarters given to the Jedi.

He slowly walked down the hall, and boarded a lift to go up one level. Officer's quarters. Where those passengers that Booster deemed important enough had quarters. Uncle Luke and the Solusars both had their quarters on this level.

And Mirax Horn as well.

He slowly walked down the hallway, finally coming to her quarters. He pressed the annunciator, and waited, grief slamming into him once more for what he had done.

For the life he took away, with barely a second thought.

The door opened, and Mirax stood there, dressed in a pair of navy slacks and a white shirt. A feminine version of the clothes that Anakin's father wears. Her hip is cocked slightly, and four year old Jysella was settled there, clinging to her mother.

Mirax's blue eyes seemed to bore into him.

"What can I do for you Anakin?"

Anakin swallowed, suddenly unsure if this was a wise idea, then he realized that it was too late to back out now. "I…I need to talk to you."

Mirax nodded her head, and stepped back into her quarters. She set Jysella on the ground, and told her to go to her room and play.

For a moment, Anakin wondered if that was because Mirax did not want any witnesses. She sat down on the couch, and gestured for Anakin to do the same.

Instead he shook his head, and pulled out the diamond, holding it out towards her.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't… I never…" He sighed and then said, "This was easier back in my cabin. This… this is, was Corran."

He noticed the bright tears that had appeared in her eyes as she reverentially took the diamond from him. She seemed to look at it for hours, and finally a tear escaped from her eyes, and Anakin watched it as it made a path down her face, rolling down her jaw line to hang on her chin for a moment before falling.

He could feel a slight burn to his own eyes, and scrubbed them, not wanting to give into his own tears.

Finally she looked back up at him. "Thank you for bringing me this Anakin."

Startled, Anakin rocked back on his heels. "You know that it was me right? That I did it? Don't you hate me?"

She sadly nodded her head. "Yes, I know." She then gave him a wistful smile. "But you're forgetting that I was married to a Jedi, and am raising two of them. I understand a lot about the things that drive you. While I might not be able to forgive you… I don't think I quite hate you."

Anakin bowed his head, hiding the tears which were now running down his face.

"Go on, get out of here."

He turned to leave, casting a look at her over his shoulder. "Thank you."

She merely nodded, and he left, returning to his quarters, and crawling into bed.

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Jacen stuck his hand into the small pouch he had fashioned into his skinrobe. He felt the clip beetles he kept in there, snapping onto his hand, and impassively looked at the Bothan sitting in front of him. A large, weeping gash stretched from shoulder to waist on the right side of the Bothan's chest. A present from venturing to close to the amphistaff grove.

He squeezed the wound tight with the hand which had the clip beetles attached, and with his free hand, tickled the release nerve of the first beetle, causing it to release its grip from his hand. He pressed it against the wound, causing it to snap close around the gash, holding the wound closed. With a quick twist, he snapped the body away from the head, ensuring it would stay there for the week needed for the wound to seal. Working quietly, he worked down the wound, using twelve of the beetles on the Bothan.

Finished, he looked at him and says, "You'll be fine in a week. Until then stay away from the amphistaff grove. I'm pretty sure that they can smell blood."

Anger flashed in the Bothan's eyes. "That's easy for you to say. They don't force you to do things."

Jacen barked a short laugh. "They don't force you either."

"But the pain. If I don't do what they want, the pain…"

Jacen shook his head. "It's just pain. It won't kill you, the amphistaffs will."

In a huff, the Bothan got up and left, not bothering to thank Jacen. Not many of them ever did. He sighed, and leaned back against the hummock, closing his eyes, hoping to be able to rest for a few moments before the Shapers cycled up the glowpoint.

He heard the shuffle of small stones and the crunch of a foot against a twig, and opened his eyes, expecting to find Taryn standing over him. Instead, he was greeted by someone else. He held up a hand, putting it solidly between himself and Vergere.

"That's close enough."

Her head tilted to the side, feather crest rising and shifting to the blue of amusement. "Now, now Jacen. Is that how you treat all of your friends?"

"I have no friends. You made sure of that, remember."

Her feather crest twisted and flattened. "Show me your wound."

"It's fine."

"You silly youngling. Am I blind? Can I not see the fever in your eyes? Can I not smell the infection? Have I lost the Force that I cannot feel how brightly you burn in it? No! Now, show me your wound, before I go get a warrior and have him hold you down."

Jacen looked at her defiantly for a moment, watching the black pools of her eyes. Finally he sighed, and pulled open the skinrobe to reveal the enflamed pucker of his scar from when she implanted his slave seed. His nostrils twitched as the smell - that of a sickened wound - reached his nose.

As he passively watched her, she reached one of her long feather-fingers to her eye, allowing it to collect one of her tears. She twisted her arm out, allowing the tear to run from her finger and splash against Jacen's wound. Ice seemed to settle across the infected sore, and his eyes popped open.

"What was that?"

Vergere smiled mysteriously. "It was a tear."

"But I…I can feel it healing me. Killing the infection. If you can do that, you could help so many others."

She slowly nodded her head, her eyes once more taking on that faraway darkness. "Yes, I could."

"I...I have to ask."

"Go ahead. Make your request."

"There's a Ryn over there…he's got an infection from the spark bees. And I had to amputate an Aqualish's leg at the knee earlier – I think he's going to die. You…You could save so many people."

She watched him, and Jacen wondered if she had heard her request. He shifted slightly, pulling the skinrobe back up over his shoulders. Finally she spoke. "You have yet to make a request of me, young Solo."

"Oh…I mean....will you help them?"

Her beak broke into a smile. "No."

Jacen rocked back where he was sitting. "But…why?"

Vergere settled down beside him. And for what seemed a lifetime just stared at him.
Then she asked a question. "Do you know the difference between a weed and a flower?"

Jacen frowned. "No….but what's the point?"

"Oh, I have one. Worry not on that score. What is the difference between a weed and a flower?"

"I guess…well…a weed would be ugly and a flower pretty."

Vergere cawed with laughter. "One might think so, but that is wrong. I have seen some truly hideous flowers, while other, much more beautiful, plants are doomed to being considered common weeds. No, the difference between a weed and a flower is this, and only this - the decision of the gardener. The gardener, and the gardener alone, decides which plant is weed and which is flower. Which gets to live and which gets to be uprooted and die. Which has worth and which is worthless. That is the responsibility of the gardener."

"I don't…"

"No? You are a gardener, Jacen Solo. You get to decide which are weeds and which are flowers. You get to make that decision. As do I. I have made my decision. I know which I count as weeds and which of the creatures in this room that I count as a flower."

Jacen stood up, an angry scowl coming to his face. "I don't believe that."

"Believe or not. It is the way that it is."

"If that's so, then there are no weeds. Every life in here is worth something."

Vergere gave a half-shrug, as if his announcement had no bearing on anything she had said. "If that is what you wish to believe."

Then before he could answer she was up and bounding away towards the wall. Jacen frowned as he watched her hop away, then the glowpoint brightened, signifying that day was dawning once again.

Grumbling about the mysterious alien, Jacen turned away and went to sit beside Taryn, waiting for the young girl to awaken. His gaze traveled across all the creatures and beings that he could see around him. There are no weeds.

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Alien Crossfire - Chapter 12

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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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Alien Crossfire Chapter 11

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Wedge sat at the desk in the quarters he had been assigned. He frowned at the two things which decorated the desk.

The first was a bottle of Corellian whiskey, a cheap knock-off of Whyren’s Reserve.

The second was a holographic image of his family.

Of his wife, and two precious little girls.

He slammed his fist against the desktop, causing the bottle and the holographic display to jump slightly. Picking up the bottle, he took a long pull, feeling the liquid burn down his throat and the warmth as it hit his belly.

Sighing, he replaced the cap, and put the whiskey in a drawer. I can’t drink myself unconscious. No matter how much I want to.

There was a knock on his door, and Wedge looked at it for a moment. "Come in."

The door slid open, and Wedge smiled as he saw his old friend, Face Loran, standing there. "What can I do for you, Face?"

Face shook his head slightly, catching a light on his shaven head. "Just got a list of the newest arrivals in from Coruscant for you."

Wedge shook his head. "I’m not that interested in them truthfully. But I’ll take what you got?"

Then Face was violently shoved into the room, and Wedge stood up, his hand dropping to the blaster at his waist as Iella stepped in. From behind her are his two little girls.

Wedge was around the desk, before he realized it, and was picking up Syal and Myri, spinning them around. Their laughter a soothing balm to him.

He set them down, and then properly greeted his wife, as his children each grabbed a side of their parents, holding onto them both.

He pulled away from the kiss, happier than he had been in months at finding them again. "I missed you."

She grinned up at him. "Good, you were supposed to."

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Anakin stared at the Vong warrior, each of them holding a purple saber in identical mid-guards, grotesque mirror images. Frowning Anakin lifted his blade to a high guard watching as the warrior moved into the same position.

Anakin shut down his blade.

The warrior did the same.

Anakin scowled. "What do you want?"

"Is it what I want or what you will become?"

Anakin shook his head, pushing down his anger. "I won’t become you."

The warrior grinned, sharpened teeth flashing through the tatters of lips and cheek muscles. "What makes you think you haven’t already?"

Anakin watched in horror as the warrior grabbed at the seam scar, pulling it apart, ripping it open and peeling it away from his face. He laid the peeled skin back against the glistening armor and Anakin found himself staring at features similar to his own.

Similar but not the same.

He found himself staring at his brother.

"You’re dead."

The not-Jacen smiled at him, that familiar lop-sided grin which Anakin recognized from his own mirror. "Am I?"

"Yes."

He snorted a short laugh. "Oh well. Then don’t you find it odd that your unconscious would project me as a representation of your underlying fears?"

Anakin frowned as he stared at the image of his brother.

"What do you want Jace?"

"You already know that, little brother."

Then Anakin could hear a slight sobbing, and turned around to see Nelani pressed against the wall, her arms wrapped around her legs, and her head pressed against her knees as she rocks slightly. Anakin glanced back towards Jacen and did not see him anymore.

He walked slowly over to her, and knelt down beside her.

"Nelani?"

She looked up at him, and he found himself looking into her red-rimmed eyes, tears streaming down her face. "Are-are you real?"

He smiled for her, and held out his hand. "Yes, I am."

She tentatively reached out and slid her hand into his. As soon as he gripped her hand, she melted forward, flinging herself into his arms.

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Nen Yim stood before Warmaster Tsavong Lah. She bowed her head slightly, and then straightened, waiting for him to speak.

"You wonder why you were summoned here."

"Yes, Warmaster."

"I want you to check over my implant. To see if it is behaving properly."

Nen Yim nodded her head quickly, and stepped forward, her shaper’s hand running over the implant, probing the join, tasting the necrotic flesh. She frowned, confused. Things were not as they seemed.

"What is it Master Shaper?"

Her headdress twisted slightly in her confusion, as her eyebrows drew closer together. "It does not behave properly. In fact I’ve never seen an implant behave in this way before."

"How so?"

"Usually, when an implant is rejected, either the implant or the original body part dies. Here neither is happening, but rather the radank claw is consuming your arm to regenerate itself."

"What could have caused this?"

Nen Yim slowly shook her head. "I am…uncertain, Warmaster. There is nothing in the protocols that deals with such a thing. It could be the work of the gods."

Tsavong Lah growled, and turned his gaze down at her, for a heartbeat she almost cowered, but instead she stood her ground, watching.

"The gods favor me! I am the Warmaster!"

Nen Yim genuflected. "I meant no disparagement, Warmaster."

He began to pace, like a caged animal. "Can you think of how this could be done to me?"

Nen Yim fell silent, thinking. Her silence stretched as she pondered the problem, as she applied her secret heretical thoughts to what inflicted Tsavong Lah. That thought was almost enough to make her smile.

Finally she looked back up at the warmaster. "Does he touch you?"

The warmaster spun towards her, and she instantly regretted speaking, as she genuflected. "Belek tiu, Warmaster. But the shaper, when he comes to inspect you, does he touch you?"

Tsavong nodded his head slowly. "Yes he does."

"I believe I could replicate this, but there has to be a deliver method for the biot which causes this to happen. I would need to inspect you immediately after him to find it."

Tsavong Lah stared at her for a moment longer, then without speaking another word, he turned away and left the room.

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"Lando."

Lando grunted, and waved his hand in the air, then reached down and grabbed the thin blanket, pulling it back up over his head.

"Lando."

Lando grunted again, and finally sat up, rubbing at his eyes, and looking around the room trying to find who was talking to him. His eyes flickered across the bare walls, and the austere surroundings, causing Lando to frown, as he considered that this room needed some style.

"Up here Lando."

Lando looked up, to find himself staring at a silver pentagram about a meter long and a meter high. From the point of each angle extended long tapered tentacles which ended in a half-dozen thin fibers. His mouth dropped open in shock.

After a moment, he began to grin widely, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "Vuffi Raa! How have ya been buddy?"

The droid lowered itself closer to Lando. "I have been functioning within parameters, Lando. I am on another mission for my father and the rest of the Silentium."

Lando’s smile faltered a bit. "And what mission is that?"

"I am here to observe your efforts against these invaders. I had hoped to be able to do so by being here with you."

Lando thought for a moment, and then nodded his head. "That sounds great to me, old buddy. Wait until you get to meet my wife."

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Jacen sat on a small hillock, surrounded by the tall yellow-green razor grass and ignored by the sparkbees as they flittered around from snap-flower to snap-flower. He sat and watched the mass of beings as they toiled at one task after another, driven by the pain supplied by the dhuryam.

The same pain which ran through his body, activating his nerves, supplying pain, heat and cold.

A cheek muscle twitched.

That was the dhuryam’s new trick. To twitch a single muscle over and over again for hours or even days.

Jacen ignored it all. He got up to hunt and eat or to drink. But above all else, he just sat on his hill. Ignored by all the other slaves. The only being who even paid attention to him was the dhuryam.

Jacen ignored them all.

Then a wail pierced the calm which Jacen had wrapped himself in.

A scream of fear and pain. A scream which slammed at the embers of his heart and emotions. Without thinking, he was standing, rushing forward and up and over the hills to find some men surrounding a young girl. She could be no older than thirteen. Jacen caught a glimpse of her blonde hair, coated in grime and decorated with bits of twigs and grass. One of her eyes was swollen from her being hit, while the other displayed an utter abject fear. That eye, and its deep blue that bordered on purple, locked onto him for a moment, and her despair deepened even more.

With a shock, he realized that she thought he had come to join the other men.

With anger, he realized what their intentions were.

His fists tightened as a rage erupted in his heart, driven by the girl’s fear.

One of the men grabbed at her skinrobe.

"Enough. This ends now."

The men looked over at him, sneers forming on their faces. "Go away. This doesn’t concern you."

Jacen stepped closer, slowly, confidently, stretching himself up to his full height. "Stop. She is under my protection."

One of the men hesitated, and then turned towards him, pulling out a bone knife. He darted forward, intent upon stabbing Jacen. Jacen just watched the man advanced, and then at the last second, sidestepped and grabbed the man’s knife hand. Twisting it around, he heard the distinct sound of a breaking bone, and then slammed the knife into the man’s back, sliding the blade between the ribs and into the man's left lung.

He allowed the man to fall to the ground, his eyes focused once more on the leader.

"I said this stops."

The man slapped the girl, sending her sprawling. "Don’t move girl."

With that done, he turned towards Jacen, and rushed forward, followed by the three others. Jacen lowered his center of gravity, spread his legs slightly and prepared to meet them. They arrived, and Jacen attacked. A flurry of strikes of hands and feet and head. He reveled in the sound of bones being broken, and the moans of those who he wounded beyond their capability to fight.

Before he realized what had happened, he found himself with the leader’s head in his arms, his knee planted in the man’s back, as he strained to bend him in ways which his body was never meant to go. He looked over at the girl, still on the ground, the red from her split lip a bright blob of color on her pale skin.

Anger flushed through him again, and he twisted the man’s head. He reveled once more in the clear crisp snap of a breaking bone. He allowed the dead weight to fall from his hands and stood up, carefully walking over to the girl.

She cowered at his approach, and he hunkered down beside her, speaking softly, gently, the way he would to a scared animal. "It’s okay. You’re safe now. I won’t let them touch you."

"Promise?"

Jacen nodded his head. "I promise. Are you hungry?"

The girl nodded her head quickly, and Jacen stood up, holding his hand out to her. "Then come on."

She looked at his hand warily, her eyes flickering between it and his face. Finally she gave in, and grasped his hand, allowing herself to be pulled up. In silence they walked back to the hill where Jacen usually spent his time, and he grabbed the haunch of the game animal he had killed the night before. Ripping a piece off, he passed it to the girl, who quickly consumed it.

She sighed in pleasure, as she licked the juices from her fingers. "Thank you. I’m Taryn. What’s your name?"

He looks at her for a moment before replying. "My name is Jacen."

She smiled for him, a hesitant thing, both weak and brilliant, then a shiver gripped her body, and she lied down in the grass. She looked at him again. "Will you watch over me while I sleep? That’s when they like to try and do things to me."

Anger gripped his heart again as he nodded his head. "Of course I will."

As he watched the young girl fall asleep, he wondered at the innate unfairness of existence. The existence which would make a girl, an innocent such as Taryn, have to suffer such depravities, that she would be scared to sleep.

As a Shaper walked past, muttering to himself in his guttural language, Jacen’s eyes hardened, and his lips pulled back into a silent snarl. He knew who he blamed for it.

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