Authors Note: Hey all, been a bit lax in posting this here, sorry! Well here it is, and the good/bad news is, chapter 3 won't be that far behind.

If this makes abseloutely no sense to you, your reading the wrong blog entry! :p Go one post back in my history for the beginning to this tale of Yuuzhan Vong madness...and trust me, it's gonna get a whole lot madder by the next chapter.

SPOILER WARNINGS: If you have not read the end of the NJO, DO NOT read this. There are some spoilers that would put the proverbial spatula in your dovin basals - and that's just not pretty ;)

Oh yeah...fic...


Chapter 2.

Long arterial networks of passageways and ailing door-valves had never been so difficult to negotiate. The entire interior of the ship had begun to disintegrate around him, bits of fleshy organic matter dripped and flaked free from the coral walls, the acrid smell of decay hanging heavily in the air.

The closer to Shimrra's private chambers Nom Anor became, the worse the overpowering stench became. Millions of micro-organisms would be ravenously metabolizing, devouring the very surfaces he resided within, walked upon and required to reach his destination. These organisms would have lain dormant in every structure, every tissue that made up this vessel, the finest shapers would have seen to that and therefore the former prefect knew he had little time on his side.

No, he did not have much time, but he did need to make a detour.


Pushing through the gooey membrane sealing off the area that had once served as Shimrra's hall of confluence, Nom Anor's one, real eye came to rest it's gaze upon the blood-stained and decapitated form of the Supreme Overlord's body. There it lay, strewn out over a still-flowing moat of blood - to which Shimrra had added his own to the morbid mix. Splayed where Luke Skywalker had left him, the massive baulk of Shimrra's ginormous corpse was already beginning to be attacked by the starving and frenzied micro organisms that assailed the vessel also.

Nearby, the rigor-mortis stiffened amphistaff the Overlord had once carried, lay severed like it's master. Nom Anor wasted no time at all in darting for one half of the sharpened weapon, procuring it carefully as he dragged it towards the festering corpse.

The vessel around him had begun to creak and groan under the increasing pressure being placed on it's hulking frame, then rumbling violently as the dovin basals finally gave up and died outright, forcing the former prefect to crouch in order to keep an even foothold upon the blood-slicked deck.

Grasping the amphistaff in his one remaining hand, he begrudgingly made it to Shimrra's side, and kicked the overlord's arm out to one side, sending a flurry of blood-engorged ngdins slithering out from beneath him.
Raising the solid weapon above his head, Nom Anor brought the amphistaff crashing down upon the joint between the overlord?s wrist and hand, almost severing the hand completely - the weapon wasn?t nearly as effective when it had expired, he thought as he discarded it.

He took hold of Shimrra's hand then, placing one foot against the cadaver's torso before setting his feet for leverage. Satisfied that this would work, he suddenly yanked back as hard as he could, transferring all his weight onto the foot he still had placed on the floor. Twisting the limb as he did so, the hand broke free almost cleanly, but with a sickening crunch and snap of tendons that made even Nom Anor wince in kind.
Staggering back, lungs heaving in the thinning atmosphere, the former prefect held up his prize to inspect it for any damage aside from the obvious.
It would do, he noted and headed for the now stringy, ichor-coated exit.

However, Nom Anor momentarily paused when he felt the inert eyes of Shimrra's severed head, boring into his back. A sneer played delicately across Nom Anor's features, noting that it almost looked as if the deceased overlord was questioning what it was that the former prefect was doing.

"Giving my enemies and itch?" He rasped reverently, turning sharply on one heel, he ran towards his next destination.

Shimrra's vessel continued to quake and groan ominously, like a gargantuan beast amid it's death throes. Large chunks of orange-tinted phong coral, were tearing free of blastulas and, had Nom Anor been able to see it, the control spire was now part missing, venting precious air and living matter into the vacuum beyond. Once the control spire was completely gone, he knew he would have run out of time, his life would meet a cold and empty end.

As he rounded the next corner, he was confronted by the still-intact enhanced ovoid of an entrance membrane - one that most certainly lead to Shimrra?s private chambers. Nom Anor had never been here personally, but something so heavily and ornately adorned had to be of importance, and therefore the chances of this being Shimrra's chambers were high.

Hefting the large severed hand he had brought with him- in favour of his own no less! - He diligently pressed it to the nerve cluster embedded in the frail wall beside the membrane-frame. It took several tense moments, during which Nom Anor was becoming increasingly concerned that he was doomed to an icy, suffocating fate, until the membrane shivered and finally sphinctered open wetly.

The air from within the chamber whooshed out and away so fast, it almost knocked the former prefect off his feet, his ears had become painful, popping with such a virulent intensity, that he could no longer hear the shrill and loud whistling of the air venting from the crumbling control spire. Nearby, several coral spines tore away from their ornate holdings, and tumbled their way down the capillary network of tunnels ominously, through which Nom Anor had just worked his way through.

Hauling himself inside the confines of the chamber, leaning more and more against the increasing rush of air now, Nom Anor literally forced the hand against the nerve cluster the opposite side of the membrane, and sealed himself in. The reaction was instant, the rush of air had stopped, though the membrane it's self was bowing with the pressure of trying not to tear free of it's holdings too, and the Yuuzhan Vong felt his legs collapse beneath him as he stumbled towards the centre of the room.

Picking himself up, Nom Anor's one true eye scanned the immediate area for what he believed to still be here. Even a fool such as the decaying and revolting Onimi would not have forgotten to plan for this eventuality. He was a survivor, one who was out to gain a means to his own ends - not unlike himself, Nom Anor noted once again - Onimi would have anticipated a loss?many of the elite had been concerned by it over the passing klekkets, the true Supreme Overlord would have seen this coming.

And then there it was, shining brightly at the far side of the chamber, as if calling out to him - The moment he?d stepped over the threshold, Nom Anor was certain he'd felt the sinuous tendrils of Yun-Harla's temptation reach towards him, ensnaring him before wrapping tightly around him like a snae-vine. The idea was almost laughable, had the situation not been so serious, he did not believe in the gods, per say - but it seemed one of the gods, at least, believed in him.

There in the far wall of the chamber, lay a small niche containing a small nutrient tank, not unlike those the shapers used to nourish and grow Vonduun crab armour. What lay inside, Nom Anor knew, would be his salvation.


TBC