During his time infiltrating the infidels, Nom Anor decided to wait for the Mando's he'd decided to double cross, at a local cantina...




Note: Hello all, and thanks to everyone who's been commenting on this, cheers for all the encouragment :D
Here's the next installment, though it is in parts, as I have managed to be a little too proficient these past few weeks and have caught up with myself, so bear with me while I write up the usual two draft edit of second half of this chapter!

What's that? You have missed a chapter? Well then, why didn't you say so? Check out my Blog History for previous chapters - all titled likewise :D

-MK



Chapter 12

Huddled against the arching inner wall of the communal chamber, sat Tinuu and Shaah, creche brothers, twins and now, mourners.

Mourning, or rather the correct way to go about it, was something unheard of in traditional Yuuzhan Vong pantheon. The dead were honoured, revered if the cause of death had been honourable. They had passed on into eternal, undeniable glory and those they had left behind could only aspire to do the same, when their time came.
No destiny was carved in stone.

This did not mean that one Yuuzhan Vong could not miss another, rather that it was dishonourable and unworthy to openly display such emotions as anything other than reverence in an honourable death, or anger at a less than worthy one.

But with the severe hammering those ideals had taken, the foundations of dogma had been shattered into trillions of shards that would stick in the heels of their upholders - each one more pointed a subject than the last.
And as such, Tinuu and Shaah had little in the way of an idea of what they should be feeling, much less doing right now.

One thing they could be sure of, was the confusion that weighed heavy on their minds.
Was this end of their new found freedom? Would Sekot spurn them as a result of this terrible occurrence? And more ominously, was this the work of the true gods?

True gods - it had been a long time since either of them had thought or spoken those words, let alone believe them. Could this be a sign of their utter outrage at the actions of the shamed? And that was another alien, heavy sounding term that they had hoped they would never have to hear again.
It left them feeling bitterly numb, this whole ordeal left them numb - Sae was missing, presumably dead...

-No, Tinuu thought, undoubtedly dead.

"It will be light soon, we should help with the search," Shaah urged his twin, restlessly tracing the cracks in the grashal's chitinous floor.

Every structure within 3 kliks of the explosion had sustained some form of damage - the irony being that the grashals now bore the scars denied to so many of their occupants.

Storms had blown into the region, not long after the initial explosion that had destroyed so much of the temple of unity, bringing with them heavy rains. The fires dampened down to smouldering, slushy ashes, morning had brought with it a rather grim and sombre dawn.

Several Ferroans and Yuuzhan Vong from grashals further afield, had arrived to begin sifting through the quagmire of debris and ash, for anyone who may have survived the catastrophic explosions. Moreover they also searched for clues that may well lead them closer to answers as to what, exactly, had caused this - Never mind who had arranged this, and why.

The Ferroans and those Yuuzhan Vong extolled - who could be considered the most trusted - were keeping tight-lipped about anything they may know already and rumour had it, that a Jedi was on their way with news of their own.
News from Sekot.

"Search for what, creche brother? There is nothing out there but ash and smouldering bones!" Tinuu began grasping at clumps of his uneven hair, tugging at it painfully in a sign of extreme stress. He rose to pace around the grashal floor.

"The gods, it must be the gods....Sae did not heed the warnings, no Yuuzhan Vong who worshipped at that temple did, and now they are-" He paused, on the verge of hysteria and Shaah was forced to rise and guide his creche brother back to the living carpet of moss upon which they had previously sat.

"The gods? Tinuu, we have found our redemption, Sekot encompasses all that is-"

Shaah fell back, shoved harshly away by his twin as he snarled his contempt for his sibling's views,

"Sekot is not the Gods! Sekot cannot hope to repel their wrath, the wrath they have only begun to rain down upon the shamed!"

The words served to shock Shaah to his core, he abhorred the term, it was an insult to the extolled, an insult to their new ways won at the cost of so many lives. For Tinuu to speak it so full of disdain and fear...

Shaah got to his feet, backing slowly away from his twin in disbelief, eyes and expression filled with utter confusion. Since their reunion, he had constantly been astounded by how alike both he and Tinuu were, both in mind and appearance - they never disagreed on anything! Much less this.
And yet here they were, engaged in a verbal stand off.

Perhaps - Shaah lamented - he did not really know his creche brother after all.

*****

Chen'tai Settlement - Zonama Sekot - Present Day.

Former Commander Niv Lah, struck the earth with all the fury and power he once would have committed to an amphistaff strike at the infidels. The heavy coral pick drove down into the sun-baked earth and stuck there, until it was wrenched free and up, ready for the second strike. Sweat beaded upon his skin, droplets running over bunched muscles as their master toiled in the heat of Zonama's current primary. The fury, with which he struck the earth, was almost certainly born of a frustration that this menial task was beneath him.

Truly, it was a crying shame he be reduced to carrying out the tasks formerly awarded to a worker or shamed one.
No, not a crying shame, an outrage!

And not only that, the shamed laboured along side he and several of his former subordinates, the most ambitious of whom were surely relishing his humiliation.
Some of the shamed even held positions of higher rank, within the settlement community, than he. They held power over where he and his workforce laboured, what they did whilst there. This was no 'new beginning' it was heresy of a different kind, heretical revenge!

He had resisted, of course, refused to undertake the tasks that were beneath he and much of his workforce. But that meant that he was forced to go without the most basic of amenities - the shamed and the ferroans both, had claimed that if he could not work towards the greater good, then he was not to be included in it. How this encouraged integration or a system that actually worked, he was unsure.
Integration - he needed a tizowrym to translate this, obviously, as his definition was not what he was seeing here.

If he resisted, he would be forced like a shamed one, to steal to live.
He should have listened to Nas Choka's orders at their defeat; he should have died at his own hands, for there seemed little but a life of slave-worthy labour to live for.
Where was the glory of battle? Where were the glorious blood sacrifices that he should be allowed to dutifully offer to the gods?
This was no existence for a warrior at all...this had not been part of Shimrra's vision.

Even Niv Lah's mate, once a fine warrior, had taken to these new ways, a little too well, so soon after such a crushing and bitter defeat.
He had been forced to disown her, though he had tried to kill her, she had been saved by that repulsive shaped Jeedai, Tahiri - who had found them and the bunker they had been holding on another world for a good few days after Nas Choka's orders to surrender or die, had been issued.


The shaped Jeedai - now there was living proof of a heresy that could never have lived up to it?s concept. Domain Kwaad had a lot to answer for...though now, they never would.

Niv Lah swung the pick one more time, tearing it free of the hardened earth for yet another contempt-filled strike. Though when he became aware of a lone figure standing idle, a small distance from his left hand side, the former commander issued a low growl of contempt. The last thing they needed now was idle bodies to match the equally idle state of minds around here. But instead of looking up to see one of his contingent standing there, his disdain-filled gaze fell upon a spotlessly attired attendant, wearing a glossy, dark green robeskin. Her expression suggested a mood of indifference, as if his strange actions did not move her anymore towards disgust than away from it, but her tone was apologetic, subservient.

?Belek tiu, Commander Niv Lah, I bring word from my superiors, who think you will be interested in a proposition they wish to present to you - with your permission, of course.?

Niv Lah snorted derogatorively, choosing to ignore the attendant, even as she dropped to one knee and bowed her head in supplication. He returned to his work, but momentarily, as irritation began to overtake him - the attendant did not move...how brazen of her, if nothing else.

This time, Niv Lah did not continue working, instead turning to consider her. Notably, she had used his former title and domain name, something uncommon in the new way of life, and the title? That had been relinquished upon their defeat. More perplexingly, was how this one, young for her station, had known who he was and where he would be - Information only available to the prefect of this particular settlement.

"Your superiors," He began, eyes travelling over the form of the villip he now noticed she was holding out towards him. It was gnarled, misshapen in many ways, but clearly what it appeared to be.

"They could offer me nothing I would deem interesting."

"But they can, fearsome one-" She responded bravely.

Niv Lah glowered down at the foolish attendant, threateningly, dropping the pick with a loud 'thud' as it hit the hardened earth. He started forward then, with malicious intent burning in the dark pools of his eyes.

"You test my patience-"

It was then that his gaze settled upon the villip once again, as disgustingly misshapen as it was, there was also something else considerably more significant about it that he had not noticed at a further distance - and it surprised him no end. The villip was not, as he had originally assumed, an imperfect one grown on sekot, but actually one that had been shaped, signified by it's apparent lack of stalk-end.

Whoever had sent this attendant, was not someone who had wished for Sekot's intervention in this little endeavour. That showed merit in it's self.

To her credit, the attendant had not moved a muscle to evade the former commander, a most worthy trait considering her caste, and her unwavering gaze, fixated upon the ground in subservience, was most encouraging also. He would do her one small favour then, but he was most certainly not - he told himself- curious.

He reached out taking the villip from her, at which she looked up, mildly perplexed. He would not insult her further by explaining why he had chosen to procure the biot, which he intended to use to converse with it's holder in private, nor should he have to answer to her.

"Go." He ordered, momentarily forgetting his debunked status, "Inform your masters that I will hear their offer."

Satisfied, the attendant rose, saluting sharply with crossed arms. She then left without word, trekking back across the open field carefully, leaving Niv Lah to contemplate what had just happened.

*****

Nom Anor sat alone in the chamber awarded to him by prefect T'arlann Shoolb. Idly, he watched over the small gaggle of specially shaped villips, he would be recieving incoming signals anytime now.

The attendants in charge of the biot's distribution had all reported back, indicating that the recipients had all accepted the villips that had been offered to them. He, of course, held onto those villips 'twin's' as it were.
The outward impression Nom Anor had called to mind, had been a positive one, the recipients were interested and that brought things to a pivotal point. All he needed to do was wait for them to become curious enough to find out what all the subterfuge was about.

Of course, the longer this took, the greater the chance that someone in the select group would have informed someone, and most likely someone who was loyal to Sekot. Nom Anor was no fool, he knew the risks well and had already formed a contingency plan, all he need do was to plant the evidence on T'arlann Shoolb - that doddering old fool had his uses after all.
He would then escape into hiding while the proper authorities were distracted by the prefects impromptu diversion.

He would eventually need to find a way off world though, and at present that was a problem that needed addressing tenfold. It had become clear to him that Sekot would only stand for so much, those he had gathered would need to set up base elsewhere in this copious galaxy, plot, scheme and prepare, and eventually return.

There was little point contemplating that, until this stage of his plan was complete. All he need do now, was wait.

T'arlann Shoolb had been called away from the damutek, with several of his staf, to help in the search and recovery of those that may be trapped in amongst the ruins of the shattered temple. There would be no interruptions today.

This day, he reflected, was surprisingly good, considring. The rains had washed away the acrid permiating stench of charred coral and had brought a rather crisp-freshness to the air. It was heating up however, and the midday sun must have hampered the rescue workers some. Not that Nom Anor cared much, leaning back upon a rather modesk sekotan version of a polyp chair, relaxing in a rather human manner.
There was no sense in getting tense before the worst happened.

*****

Worldship Domain Skell: 90 Years ago.


Satisfaction painted his face the perfect picture of sublime smugness, it would not fade, this he knew.
As he continued to beam, a full hourly cycle after receiving the good news, in triumph, Nom Anor stopped short of reaching the intendants' damutek he was due to arrive at, to take a slight detour.

The detour would not slow him down much; rather take him in the general direction of an old acquaintance- who would, no doubt, be delighted to hear the news too, he mused inwardly, the sarcasm accompanying the thought being most intentional.

Prefect Yoog Skell's words still ringing clearly in his point-tipped ears, his lipless grin spread even wider than usual, he opened the partician membrane sealing off the entrance of the first damutek he came to, slipping through the entrance almost silently.

Sitting at a coral-plinth desk, examining what appeared to be a lumpen- that may or may not have been given to her by the warrior that was exiting the damutek at present- sat Maliia Skell.
Looking up from the lumpen droppings she still held in one palm, it only took the female intendant a couple of seconds to notice she was not alone, her expression turned from curiosity to pure, sarcastic grimness in the blink of an eye.

"What have you done?" She asked suspiciously - He only looked this way when he was particularly pleased with himself, she recalled.
And that, experience told her, was never a good thing.

"Done?" Nom Anor queried, sounding mock-hurt, "I have been very proficient."

Maliia Skell had gone back to examining the contents of her palm, which didn't look like much that would need close scrutiny - she was feigning disinterest.

"This, I do not doubt. Your name has been spoken in many circles since the coup." She muttered indifferently.
It was no secret to Nom Anor, that she was a Quorrealist, loyal to the debased supreme overlord. Shimrra, the one who had taken the life of Quorreal, personally - so it was said - and indeed his throne, had been rather successful in eradicating his predecessors supporters. And indeed any chance there might have been, of one such group attempting to overthrow him.

"It has - and now my hard work has paid off." He announced, "I am to be escalated to the rank of Executor."

Silence, a long and palpable all encompassing silence ensued.

Maliia Skell was either stunned to speechlessness - which he found highly unlikely- or she was jealous. Due to her own beliefs, advancement had not come easily for her, she was lucky to be alive.
A Quorrealist she might be, but she was still Yuuzhan Vong, and still of the Intendant caste, ambition was as much in her nature as her scathing undertones.
Jealousy came instinctively, he knew this because he would have felt the same if he were in her position.

What Maliia Skell lacked, was the tenacity to adapt with the changing times.

"And so the great Nom Anor prevails again - congratulations." She said, with an elaborate flourish of a gesture.

And she was not done yet.

"I assume you did not inform the prefect of your heretical moments as a faux shaper?"

Her tone was decidedly pointed, icy to the point that it served to prickle the hairs on the back of Nom Anor's neck.
Like them, he bristled,

"They do not, but I am certain that my superiors will see the benefits of my learning and possessing such skills, should the need for them arise."

She laughed, harshly so, eye-ridges raising in unison to paint her features incredulous,

"Oh your superiors may listen; I was speaking of the gods." She said.

Nom Anor would need to choose his words carefully, atheism was not an option to the Yuuzhan Vong, and he had carefully concealed his lack of faith behind a mask of elaborate lies for many years now.

"I pay reverence to Yun-Harla, daily." He assured her, smile fixed firmly in place.

Maliia Skell?s expression mirrored his own, and if he was not mistaken, Nom Anor was sure he had spotted a mischievous glint in those dark eyes of her?s.
?I expected no less, of course.? She replied, ?I assume that foolish gloating is not the only reason you came so far out of your way??

He eyed her curiously for a moment or two, recalling the little mind games of one upmanship they had played as cr?che mates. What was it that she expected of him?

?My escalation ceremony will begin in the new day cycle,? He said, placing the small furry ball of a lumpen down upon her desk plinth.

?Attend if you wish.?

He took his leave then, not wishing to hear the female?s response just yet, all would be said with action later, if she so wished it. So he left her to what he hoped, would be curiosity.

TBC.