Well, i'm sort of semi-back, thanks for all the support and comments over the last week or so, I really appreciate it as I have said :) Hopefully I should be back to my usual self soon.
And to help me on my way, i've been trying to be productive, so be sure to check out the finished art in my photo's (Asajj for those of you who were wondering) and my fic..below.

Chapter 8:

The next few weeks were pure agony, and not simply because of Nom Anor's injuries. During his healing sessions, Tekli would often visit, simply to inform him of what to expect when he re-entered Yuuzhan Vong society - or should that have been Sekotan society?- and to check k on his progress...or so she said.
But the former prefect knew otherwise- He could tell that she was checking more than just his health, as the young chadra-fan Jedi would often ask him to recount his story, in greater and greater detail, clearly hoping to catch him out with some slip of his memory. Nom Anor was an old hand at keeping his stories watertight, it would do the Jedi no good at all - nothing short of the Haar Vhinic would have kept the lies from slipping off of his tongue and he knew that Jedi sorcery was practically futile.

The healers had, however, let him free of his bonds, deeming his recovery progress good enough that he could be more mobile. Nom Anor had made the most of this, taking the time to get a fix on his immediate surroundings, the comings and goings of those ferroans and GA operatives assigned to this world, when he was supposedly merely going to get 'fresh air'.
There was, as he had suspected, a strong Jedi presence upon Zonama - Tekli being the only one at this particular settlement, but word had reached his ears, that Tahiri Veila and the Jedi Healer Cilghal were also on world - as was that wreched scientist Danni Quee.

He had also taking his first glimpse of the blistered and bloody half-healed mess that he had become. Scars, still raw and fresh, littered him from head to toe, hiding all but a casual glimpse of the whorls of spectacular tattoos that had once adorned him. His one blue eye was relatively unaffected, and perhaps was the only part of himself that prevented Nom Anor from believing that he was staring back at someone else, as opposed to his own reflection.

His limbs were all intact, aside from the hand he had lost via Leia Solo's lightsaber, and that still posed an issue to him - there was little in this galaxy more distinguishable than a lightsaber wound, and Tekli would have surely recognized it.

It was in his moment of realization, that the Yuuzhan Vong remembered where he knew her name - Tekli had been one o those aboard the worldship carrying the voxyn queen, one of the Jedi strike team - the very team he had been tasked with capturing. Another of his illustrious semi-failures, one that had cost him much in the eyes of Tsavong Lah. But if she knew anything of his true identity, she had given no sign, as far as the rest of the galaxy knew, Nom Anor had died upon Shimrra's private vessel, when it too had died and broken apart.

To underestimate a Jedi, was a gross mistake to make though, he would need to prepare for the eventuality that he may be discovered a little earlier than planned. This would be a delicate task.

*****

Domain Skell Worldship: 146 Years ago.


Delicate, that was the only word for it Nom Anor decided, as he held up the bizarre dissected, semi-translucent tissues he had carefully harvested from two Yuuzhan Vong fighting beasts he had found dying and abandoned near the warriors quarters. His crèche guards did not seem to object to the crecheling taking them, so long as they were gone, no questions would be asked.

Good, no one could know about his little secret project, his insatiable quest for knowledge, not even his closest of crèche-mates.

Unfortunately for Nom Anor, nothing stayed hidden in the dorms of the crèche grashals for long, and despite his best efforts, one of his crèche mates, a female named Maliia Skell, now shared his secret - and with an avid curiosity of her own too.

Indeed, she looked on even now, perplexed as her counterpart examined the damp, clingy samples carefully - he found it more annoying than endearing.

"This does not make sense, these samples should be bonding, there should be regrowth-" Nom Anor grumbled discontentedly as he shook his head, scant crop of black hair falling into disarray,
"-Pass me the Qahsa."

He extended one ichor-slicked hand.

He was aware of Maliia Skell issuing a grunt of disgust, though it was not at the state of Nom Anor's hands.

"It is not working, because you are not a shaper." She responded, and dropped to her feet, portable qahsa in hand, from the nest bunk she had been perched upon whilst observing him.

Nom Anor looked up from his precarious work for the first time since she had entered; ice-blue eyes piercing her dark ones with his indignant stare,

"My mother was a shaper." He replied defiantly and Maliia Skell frowned, deep furrows appearing in her brow and nose ridge in a sign of disapproval,

"We should not speak of her, I thought you agreed not to after making that obtuse shaper initiate access the rikyam's memories? Your actions here will anger the gods enough." She said.

Nom Anor's expression mirrored that of the one opposing him, and he inwardly wondered if he had met his match in the female. Perhaps one day she would make a worthy mate, but for now all she made was an annoying obstacle.

He snatched the qahsa from her hands and chose to ignore her warning tones, trying to recall how he had seen the shaper initiates do this - access the qahsa's information. Paying Maliia Skell no more mind, despite her attempts at swaying his decision, he stroked the biot in his hands to life. The oblong, bony creature exuded a long, slender tentacle that snaked out from it's side, travelling upwards towards Nom Anor's head.

Instead of recoiling, he remained perfectly still as the tendril thinned out more so, coming to a sharpened point before it plunged headlong into his broken mess of a nasal cavity. A split second later, he felt an immense stabbing pain like no other, shooting through his nerves to polax him completely.
If he cried out, he was unaware of it, information came thick and fast, flooding his mind with images, sounds, sensations and knowledge that accompanied it all. It happened so fast and all so intensely - no, too intensely - Nom Anor felt as though his mind would implode where he lay.

The pain continued to rise, each time he demanded more of the biot with his thoughts, and it resisted too, bidding him no further information beyond the second cortex - he was no shaper adept, but still he pushed, mentally exerting himself to the point he felt as though the pain would crush him. And then, just when he was certain it would yield to him, a hot jolt of agony swept across his entire body, and all faded to black.

*****

Zonama Sekot: Present Day.

"Welcome to the gardens of unity, Yem-zi..." The short, pygmy-looking blue skinned ferroan - Nom Anor had not caught his name - was rambling on. Ever since he had been discharged from the healers huts, he had been entrusted to this none-too-cheerful guide, for what had been, so far, a rather interestingly eye opening tour of the settlement.

The settlement had been named Haar'jhumm - meaning truth of the sunrise, and from what the former prefect had been able to tell, all castes located here were purposefully split into integrated groups that were then required to share living space together. Though at present, the groups remained integrated, Nom Anor could already see the first signs of discontent, especially among those who had once been warriors.

Within the small grashal groups, the castes had begun to stick to their own - perhaps out of comfort, familiarity or suchlike - Shapers only spoke with shapers, and warriors ordering those shamed, no...extolled, around as if it were just another day aboard one of the vast worldships of the Yuuzhan Vong.

Though it sickened him to observe his people reduced to what was essentially a self sustaining farming community, the cracks in this unlikely facade were already beginning to show.
Now that was something worth keeping his one, good eye on - Nom Anor thought conspiratorially.

?Your place will be with this community, helping to build a-? The ferroan guide was saying, but Nom Anor had long since switched off, he knew the blurb, it was almost a mantra at this point - to build a new beginning - it was all kane a bar to him.

So was this it? Brainwash the Yuuzhan Vong to their new ways? Oh the irony in that idea, replacing dogma with idealistic dogma of another kind - pathetic.
Yet again it was Nom Anor against the world, against all known worlds, the sooner he found a way to exploit this whole situation, the better.

It was as he had said to the Jedi, Jacen Solo - Ooglith masquers could not hide everything, not forever.
But he had come too far to ruin this now.

The guide had stopped outside a medium-sized, newly formed grashal, it?s shell-like structure blending in surprisingly well with the tampasi that swayed gently in the breeze around it. The surface texture of the outer walls was still tacky, suggesting it had been grown within the past ket or so, but it would be perfectly fine for living in by now.

Nom Anor was lead in through the open hatchway, into what he supposed was a communal living area. There, sitting upon a living vorrok carpet of deep-green, sat three Yuuzhan Vong, all of whom turned to face the newcomers, schooling their expressions from ones of shock and trepidation, to neutrality and perhaps a hint of curiosity too.
It was the same look Nom Anor himself had worn, when he had first seen his own reflection - just minus the bizarre elation at having almost not recognized himself.

Shamed ones, he acknowledged, ones that had been born into the caste too, their smooth skin and hideously symmetrical features devoid of any ritual scarring all an overt sign of that fact. These ones, however, did not cower or shy away from the ferroan or Nom Anor as they had entered, instead they stared wide eyed and amazed - Liberated, Nom Anor knew that gaze well, he had seen it upon the faces of a thousand or more shamed acolytes, loyal to the brand of ?jeedai heresy? he had brought to the underworld of Yuuzhan?tar as Yu?shaa.

Oh if only they knew!

?Yem-Zi, this is Sae, Shaah and Tinuu, you will be staying here with them, consider them your work detail, extended crèche-siblings if you will.?

Nom Anor raised a brow ridge in what was a very sarcastic, very human mannerism-

?Belek tiu,? He offered to the three crouched on the floor, before noticing something unusual about two of the gathered.

It was like he had done a double take, he noted, two of the three - the ones that the guide had named as Shaah and Tinuu - were identical to one another - twins? This was an unusual turn of events, how had they gone unnoticed all this time? They were not crechelings.

Another presence at the far end of the chamber drew his attention, almost completely from the rare sight before him, an old Yuuzhan Vong male, not shamed, but ritually adorned like an intendant of prefect?s rank.
This one Nom Anor knew of, he had encountered him many times aboard the worldships, before his eventual mission to the infidel galaxy.

T?arlann Shoolb - the very fact this old, hard-nosed traditionalist had elected to adhear to this way of life, instead of throwing himself upon his own coufee, was surprising to say the least.
Abominable- shouldn?t that be what he would call this?

?This is-? the guide was now gesturing to the old Intendant, but the Yuuzhan Vong cut in rather curly,

?-T?arlann Shoolb,?

He stepped forward, an air of superiority seemingly carrying him as he moved past the shamed ones ignoring them as if they were not there. He was very much in charge of this micro-community, Nom Anor thought, and he, himself, should expect to be tested over the days to come, especially by this one.
He could hardly wait for that , he thought smugly.

The sooner he was able to strike an accord with the old fool, the sooner he could perhaps twist him to his own needs, even find an ally in this sea of madness.

T?arlann Shoolb stopped short of reaching Nom Anor, and began to circle both he and the ferroan, his gaze scrutinizing the slightly-built Yuuzhan Vong as though he were carrion thrown to a hungry Vua?sa. When he had walked a full circle for the second time, he came to a grinding halt before the ferroan guide and growled irritably.

?This one is a little scrawny is he not??

Nom Anor felt his blood begin to simmer,

?You take away our millennia of well-versed tradition, our identity - and not content with that alone, you and your Jeedai allies ask that we work in such groups of blasphemy....?

He fixed the ferroan with an unimpressed glare as he brought his hand up and curled it into a tight fist, silencing the muttering shamed ones still sitting upon the rich-green carpet.

?And now you bring our group this one? What am I supposed to do with this?! We need strength in this group...not snivelers! Bring me a warrior, bring me a shaper, now those we could use....but this?!? He now rounded on Nom Anor threateningly, perhaps expecting him to flinch or show sign of weakness, but the slighter male did not. He could seldom afford to let anyone believe they had the better of him, it would only work to his disadvantage right now.

The ferroan guide did not move a muscle to intercede, instead issuing a sigh of deep disappointment and frustration.

?If this is a problem, T?arlann Shoolb, may I suggest you take it up with Warmaster Nas Choka, or the Magister herself?? He spoke in calming tones, and Nom Anor began to wonder if the old intendant would direct his impending violent rage at the guide instead.

Indeed, T?arlann Shoolb?s shoulders shook with the pre-tremors of an explosive fury, he had begun to pace, fists clenched so tightly that Nom Anor could imagine them digging into their masters? palms. But no words, no sounds of malice escaped him. Instead, T?arlann Shoolb turned awkwardly towards the guide and then back to Nom Anor, bowing slightly in apology.
Incredulous, Nom Anor could only watch and listen, dumbfounded.

?That, will not be necessary,? T?arlann Shoolb muttered to the ferroan, between clenched needle-point teeth.

He then swivelled, so sharply that the slighter Yuuzhan Vong and the shamed ones both, actually flinched, as he turned to leave the chamber the way he had come.
Looking back over his shoulder uncaringly, the old intendant added,

?Welcome to Haar?jhumm, Yem-Zi, I am certain that your stay will be....productive.?

Without further glance or word, he left the chamber as though the confrontation had never happened.

This was more than curious, what could these infidels hold over the Yuuzhan Vong, that they would invoke a reaction this severe? A Klekket prior to this, such actions would have been unthinkable, ridiculous!
This, and many more, was just one of the questions Nom Anor was going to have to ask.

?I will leave you to settle in now, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate-?

?-To ask...I know,? Nom Anor interjected, still staring at the porthole through which the old intendant had retreated, ?Thank you, but I shall be fine.?

The ferroan guide, seemingly content with this response, smiled and then took his leave of them, leaving Nom Anor alone with the group of three who still observed him with keen interest.

Well, this was going to be interesting.


TBC