Note: Hi all, I have decided to post the unedited version here, but i'd consider it unsuitable for readers under the age of 12 - as most people here seem above that age, I decided to post it anyway, but if anyone is offended by this, just leave a message and i'll repost the PG version :p

Also, Maggy AKA SithLadyMookiee has made me a niiiice cover for this fic! Behold it below!




Chapter 11.


Prefect T'arlann Shoolb, stretched his tired limbs as he lay upon his nestbunk in the dark-quiescence of Zonama's muggy night. He could not sleep.
He had long since lost count of the time that had passed, for it seemed like half his mortal life. When he was certain that rest had evaded him all together, his thoughts meandered towards the days events.

What had he agreed to?
A coup of sorts, and it wouldn't have been his first rather, this was an intendants life, you went where the profit was and this new-way, sought to undo all the work of ages. He couldn't let that happen, but was this the answer? Truly?

And who was Yem-Zi? The mysterious shamed one must have thought the incompetent shapers had dropped him on his head during his naming ceremony! He would find out, eventually, one way or another.
But for now he served a purpose. It seemed both he and the shamed one served each other, a purpose too.

Releasing a long sigh of resignation, he rose as gradually as his old bones would allow him, swinging his legs over the edge of the nestbunk, rubbing the heels of his hands against the sunken-orbits of his eye sockets. No, he was as awake as his mind; sleep would not come this night, so he would make the most of this impromptu way of the gods telling him he should be up and about.

Stepping silently from his chamber and eventually, from the grashal, into the communal gardens of the settlement, T'arlann Shoolb sat down upon a bench fashioned out of hard-wearing bushes, with his personal qahsa and began to enter new information into it by way of thoughts and touch.
Into the small, oblong-shaped biot, he put all the information he currently knew about this ' Yem-Zi', along with all that he knew in the form of hunches and assumptions pertaining to the Yuuzhan Vong male.

He would have one of his associates look at this come the new dawn, and get back to him with their findings. The old prefect knew with the wisdom of ages, knowledge was power, and he didn't like the supposed-shamed one having the upper hand in this precarious matter.
Allies they may be for now, but the time would come when one would need to wrest power from the other, he didn't intend to be the losing party.

Eyes rolled back into his head, from the effects of the qahsa's hold on his mind, the prefect never saw the dark-cloaked figure slipping silently through the membrane of the grashal he, too had exited only moments before. Nor would it matter in a moment.

Sekot, too, seemed unperturbed by the ominous figure taking up watch upon a slight raise in the terrain, which dipped slightly into a pan of land full of lush, green tampasii grasses and Boras trees, with only a few structures littering the land. Chief among them, was the spectacularly shimmering yorik coral structure of a temple, aptly named in the honour of the Yuuzhan Vong's new beginning here - the temple of unity.

Scattered around the temple, were smaller noticeable minshals. These were the quarters of the workers, extolled and true caste who wished to work closely on integration; they had been self selected for such an auspicious project and clearly took pride in their shaping.

Such a pity... the dark figure thought, sarcastically, then glancing back at the thoroughly engrossed Prefect - he seemed gone from this world.


Lost in his thoughts as he was, T'arlann Shoolb was abruptly snapped harshly from his devious pursuits, by a single, softly-spoken word.

"Boom."

****

Tekli's feet ached in sympathy with the rest of her fatigues body, despite the fact she was a healer, and force techniques would have helped, the chadrafan had opted for connecting with the force in order to attempt to gain contact with Sekot. It was a dangerous idea, she knew, for the world's sheer power could have destroyed her mind in an instant if it wished - or maybe even unintentionally, but she had to try something.
The terrible sense of foreboding was growing stronger, laying heavier on her mind.
While the world's living consciousness appeared to be wholly quiescent, Tekli was certain Sekot had heard her message regardless.

'Act quickly, we need to know.'

But know what, exactly? Something highly strange was going on here, something that sent ripples of concern through the force, ripples that seemed to reverberate all around her, through Zonama's native life. Sekot must feel it too.

The tampasii swayed in the muggy night air, and thick clouds rolled overhead, indicating a storm was brewing above.

'In every sense of the word.' She thought glumly.

Boras limbs creaked and groaned under the strain of their limbs being forcefully pulled about by the winds that never seemed to reach Tekli's little bubble of protection, almost as if Sekot was allowing her egress alone. To any mortal being, the scene was intimidating, especially for one her size, but Jedi needed to show courage in the face of adversity, so Tekli pressed on despite herself.
Eventually she came to a somewhat bare area of clearing, where the plains seemed to stretch out for miles beyond the point of seeing, a short distance away from where she was standing, stood a single, solitary hut, close to a group of sporadically placed boras trees. This was where Zonama Sekot's Magister dwelt.

To the naked eye, the hut looked uninhabited, a little too modest for someone of Jabitha's status, though time and nature had left the small dwelling well enough alone. A sign of affection, Tekli decided, Sekot looked after those who looked after her, and Jabitha surely kept the world's best interests at heart.

As the small Jedi approached the hut, a pleasantly warm breeze seemed to encircle her, protecting her with invisible arms. It was then that the force seemed to flare to life, and she turned to see the slender figure of the very person she sought.

"Jedi Tekli, have the disturbances brought you here? Or is the reason-" The magister still then, as if she too were sensing something in the force.

Tekli reached out to the woman, only to be almost physically pushed over, by the sudden rush of force energy flooding her mind and the space around her.
Now the chadrafan knew, Sekot's attention was focussed here, focussed through Jabitha.

As Jabitha slowly approached, intending not to startle the Jedi, Tekli found her voice.

"Greetings Magister, it is an honour, as always. I only wish my visit were under more pleasant circumstances - I have something to ask of you."

Jabitha's expression remained calmly neutral, thought the young Jedi could feel her intrigue in the force, picking away at the barrier Sekot's consciousness had formed around her.

"Of course" She responded, composed as usual.

Tekli paused to collect her thoughts, her nose twitching in a pensive action before she nodded once resolutely, "The resettlement project continues to go well, but there are still in-bound Yuuzhan Vong arriving on world, and those being collected and relocated here."

She waited until Jabitha Nodded, and then continued, "With such an influx, the ability to keep track of who is going where, is becoming an issue. We are noting a rise in the number of those traditionalists among the Yuuzhan Vong, those who are not as accepting of the new ways implemented by the Ferroans and the Jedi."


Jabitha spread her palms, "Sekot is aware of this, it should not be the soul responsibility of the Jedi or the Ferroans to keep the peace, perhaps enlisting the help of those loyal to the new ways? The extolled seem more than enthusiastic to make a fresh start."

Tekli sniffled uncomfortably, the large black orbs of her eyes narrowing hesitantly, "Perhaps. The extolled, too, are still just adjusting and new responsibility may have the opposite effect to what is desired. The traditionalists despise them openly. But this is only partially the reason I came to find you."

Again, Jabitha's face was the picture of perfect calm, almost as if she knew what was coming next.

"We received a newcomer to the settlements recently, a horrifically injured shamed one - at least, that is what he referred to himself as." Had she been wrong in her assumptions? Was Yem-Zi telling the truth? Without the force to guide her, Tekli found it incredibly difficult to tell, when she had spent time with him. "One of his injuries was...unmistakable. It was the severance of his left hand at the wrist. This, I deduced, was cauterized in such a way, that such an injury could only have been achieved with a lightsaber."

Yem-Zi had been convincing enough, so if his words were not the truth, he was a very adept liar. And there was, so Tahiri had once told her, one caste in particular that worshipped Yun-Harla, the trickster, above all others.
The Intendant caste.

"Perhaps an old wound, one sustained before the one you speak of was shamed?" Jabitha suggested, voice rather quietly melodical - was this her answering, or Sekot in her image?

"The wound was fresh, sustained within days of his arrival." Tekli informed regretfully - how she wanted this to be the results of an overly cautious mind.

There was a growing tension in the force, one so virulent, that the nature around them seemed subdued, waiting with baited breath for something terrible to occur.
The young Jedi was about to say more when-

"-Ah!"

Tekli stopped short, falling to her knees, hands raised to her head as her eyes clamped tight shut. The force, the ripples of caution, of tension, had turned into a gargantuan wave of anger, of despair!
It sounded out through everything sentient and native, like an incredibly loud, painful keening in the chadrafan's head.

Jabitha was at her side in an instant, concern painting her features.

"Jedi Tekli?" Her voice was filled with those knowing tones again, she had not physically touched the Jedi, so Tekli still could not be sure if this was in fact the real Magister, or just Sekot's image of her.

Tekli could hear the words the magister spoke, but the sudden rush of anguish and a familiar one at that, it was almost too much for her small frame to take. It was as if she could feel her fur bristle and turn grey within seconds. She needed to focus, to break the connection with what she knew to be Zonama Sekot's consciousness.

And that was when a jolt, like a strong hand clamping down suddenly upon her shoulder, sent her sprawling forward with a shrill squeal.

Surprised, it took the young Jedi a moment or two to regain her feet, and with it, most of her senses. Her gaze immediately sought Jabitha, who was no longer bent over her, but several paces away.
Posture stiff, tension coiling in the woman's form, the magister's figure was but a silhouette upon the horizon, for in the distance, a gargantuan cloud of thick, black smoke rose up from a constantly flickering glow that seemed to lick tentatively at the night's sky - reaching up with hungry hands, seeking an unseen prey.

Fire - Tekli acknowledged inwardly, dumbfounded.

For what seemed like an eternity, both females stood there, staring, and time seemed to stand still for them both. Pain, virulent and prominent, radiated through the force, pain and incredible sorrow. What had they done? What had they done?

The words hammered through Tekli's mind over and over like a demented mantra - What have I done?

Those words were not her own, she knew, but the words of Sekot herself...
And when she looked next at Jabitha, the chadrafan could see that she, too, had shimmering tear-tracks, lacing her cheeks.

*****

T'arlann Shoolb's skin felt aflame, even at this distance. He could almost feel his skin crack and begin to weep, before beginning to peel away from the rest of his body, bone and sinew, to reveal the sheer surprise beneath. He could almost feel his mind laid bare for all to see.
Just as his eyes saw now.

Astonishing.

For he was not actually feeling what those, burning in panicked anguish, before him would be feeling. No - he could only feel the extreme heat radiated at a lesser degree, but he was witnessing it - this was not an insomnia induced dream.

Plumes of acrid, thick, black smoke, billowed and poured up into the now marred nights sky, lit at it's base by a furious inferno - one that raged and ravaged it's surroundings.

The prefect lay, perfectly still, where he had been thrown by the force of the initial explosion, watching as several smaller explosions erupted from within the structure he had come to know as, the temple of unity.
A place where all Yuuzhan Vong, both shamed and true caste, could come and unite in their worship.

Well....not anymore.

As the fire continued to consume the structure, the heat and energy produced by the explosions, sent molten lumps of yorik coral soaring into the air, to rain down upon the barracks of extolled, who had chosen to reside closest to their one-true symbol of their redemption.

The prefect's vision was blurry, distorted, eyes watering as he inhaled and spluttered out the acrid fumes. But amongst the haze and stinging smoke, he could make out the vague figures of Yuuzhan Vong, trying to escape the hungry blaze, trying to pull others from the messy ruin that was once their temple.

It was not only the shamed that suffered - of course. The priests who had tended to the shrines within, had been trapped inside when the explosion had ripped through the temple, now lost forever in a gigantic sacrificial pyre only rivalled by the one that Supreme Overlord Shimrra had ordered be created to burn the heretics. It seemed that the late Supreme Overlord had gotten his wish after all, and now the gods rained down their molten disapproval upon them, eternally punishing the heretics for turning their backs upon the true way, for moulding it into something utterly abominable.

When T'arlann Shoolb's hearing began to return, he was startled as he saw the figure of someone rush past him, only to be quickly restrained by two more who had given chase.
It was the shamed ones from his own grashal, the intendant realized - Shaah and Tinuu grasping at the flailing limbs of a hysterical Sae.

At first, her screaming was unintelligible, especially as she fought, tooth and claw, to free herself from the grasp of the other two - But Tinuu had her pinned, and Shaah was forced to sit on Sae's legs to keep her from struggling further, or gaining enough upward force to dislodge his brother.
It was then, through breathless-sounding words, that her words became comprehensible.

Nesh'tahl!

Ah, yes - T'arlann Shoolb recalled - the name of her lover, one of those who had laboured intensively in the construction and growth of the temple. One of those foolish enough to follow the heresy and live in the shadow of a scion of false truth - and now? One of the dead.


T'arlann Shoolb had then become aware of a silent figure moving to stand beside him, a little too close for comfort too. He did not need more than a peripheral glance, however, to know who it was - even before the figure spoke in those familiar rasping tones.

"Magnificent, is it not?" The voice of Yem-Zi mocked, "Quite the spectacle."

The words were quietly spoken, barely audible above the sounds of anguish and raging fires, but at such close proximity, the prefect had comprehended them clearly - And he could not help but sneer at the faux-shamed one's gloating.

"You said our message would be delivered subtly - I hardly call this subtle!"

T'arlann Shoolbs muscles bunched beneath his robeskin, fists clenching as he considered what this may actually do to their prospective plans - why had he agreed to this?
And now that pitiful sniveler had the audacity to laugh as if this were nothing? Their plans were surely done for, they might as well throw themselves on their own coufee's right here and now!

This time, though, Yem-Zi cast a glance in T'arlann Shoolb's direction,

"Prefect," he began with faux-disappointment, "Compared to the vengeance we shall rain down upon these lesser and their god-like world, compared to the suffering they shall taste in the name of the true-gods - this is very subtle."

The prefect felt his eyesacs darken with rage and heat, had this fool lost his mind?! Sekot would never fail to notice an event such as this.

"You pathetic fool!" He snarled, "Sekot will know! This will be traced back to-"

Now the brenzlit had the nerve to grasp the prefect by the arm, cutting his words short due to incredulity.

"By then, it will be too late." He gestured to the scene before them, theatrically-

"Feel elated, this offering will surely please the gods, the heretics now answer for their crimes, with death most ignoble and eternal punishment."

Yem-zi let go of his arm then, and slowly turned as if to move away from the prefect.

"I trust the villips were distributed as planned?" He said, looking on into the gathering crowd, with one slight glance over his shoulder.

T'arlann Shoolb merely nodded, seeming both incredulous and pensive-

"It was done." he said, "But I must now find a replacement for my attendant, inform me if you wish to explode them also."

Nom Anor grinned eerily, and watched as the prefect expertly hid his surprise at the change in his demeanour.

"As you wish." He responded, as if admitting to the crime for the first time, before slipping away into the gathering crowd.



TBC



And now....Coming to an abomination near you soon....



He's small....



...And Mighty...



...and about to dominate YOUR galaxy.

(More details to follow ;) )