Note: As mentioned in the title, here is the next part of my fic, chapter 12 part 2, thanks very much for the reviews, good or bad, suggestions etc, all appreciated. And this time around I have an early christmas present to post - SLK this one's for you! So scroll to the end of the chapter to view :)


Chapter 12
Part 2


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 receiving 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 prefect's 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 staff, 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, considering. The rains had washed away the acrid permeating 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 modest 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 crèche 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.

*****

Zonama Sekot: Present day.

The rapidly pulsing biot, drew Nom Anor's attention from the hot dragweed broth her had brewed himself, moments before entering the chamber again. The villip, second to the left, was pulsing so exaggeratedly, Nom Anor thought it may fall from it's coral stand.
Clearly, it had been pulsing for a short while now and with much urgency.

Placing the broth containing sacworm down upon his deskplinth, the former prefect strode towards the biot and stroked it to life. It everted almost immediately, surface reticulating, rippling like water until it had recreated the features of the one trying to contact him.
And what, or rather who, he saw, did not disappoint him.

Prefect T'arlann Shoolb had kept his word, he had done well indeed, Nom Anor noted with a slight smirk, he did not wish for his expression of minor triumph to be conveyed over the transmission.

Staring back at him, eyes as dark as the pits of the maw luurs stomach, was the savagely scarred visage of a once high ranking Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Hair pulled back severely from his face in several scant chevrons, he had secured it by a top-knotted ring of coral. He also bore a deep prominent scar that ran almost from ear to ear across and over his cranium. The warriors head alone was a fearsome sight to behold. More noticeable now than ever, was the downward pointing wedge-shaped, burned into his forehead, signifying his domain as that of domain Lah.

Nom Anor had had several altercations with members of domain Lah, chief among them, Tsavong Lah - former and now deceased Warmaster, of the Yuuzhan Vong.
The last would-be altercation, a small piece of disinformation that had lead to a devastating defeat and the Warmaster's death, costing Nom Anor his title and status in the Supreme Overlord's court.
Domain Lah would have bayed for his blood for the disgrace they had suffered due to Nom Anor's handiwork. But he knew that this domain's thirst for vengeance against those who had caused them disgrace, would have never been quenched by the move to surrender, to seek peace upon Sekot. That was not the domain Lah that Nom Anor knew - and consequentially, he knew this one's face too.

"Ah, Commander Niv Lah, welcome."

The villip-created features inclined slightly, indicating a frown - not always a bad thing, but Nom Anor supposed the warrior was trying to hide his curiosity of having heard his name spoken by a stranger.

"Your perfidious Attendant sends her regards - and your message of," He seemed to struggle with the words, almost carefully snarling them, "...an offer."

Nom Anor schooled his expression to remain neutral, T'arlann Shoolb would be annoyed, had this warrior merely killed the attendant out of spite and insult. Good attendants were hard to find...so he claimed.
But he could not ask, weakness was just about any form of concern - however insincere - in the eyes of a warrior.

"Indeed, the time has come for the Yuuzhan Vong to rise once more..." Now Nom Anor stepped into view of the villip, revealing the full extent of his burnt face with it's mottled complexion. Niv Lah beheld it for what he assumed was but a moment, before his reaction was plain to see.

Revulsion, pure as sekot's pale blue skies, tarnished the warrior's face with an undeniable attention to detail, and Nom Anor knew what was coming.

"Ignot! You are a shamed one!"

The former prefect was quick to react, preventing the warrior from shutting off the connection from his end.

"Appearances can be deceiving, fearsome one - I assure you, if I were shamed, then I would not be about to offer you what you and your caste desire most." Nom Anor said.

Niv Lah seemed anything but thoughtful, snarling in retort, "That is exactly what a shamed one in your position would say!"

Nom Anor smiled thinly,

"Truly? I find that a curious thought, surely if I were shamed, I would be content with my new found life here on Sekot?" He let those words hang in the air for a moment,
"I would have bristled at your calling me a shamed one - no?"

"If you were true caste, you should be insulted irrespective of the fact being true or not." Niv Lah returned.

This drew a slight chuckle from the former prefect, how quickly he had forgotten how irksomely pedantic domain Lah could be. He had not missed it one little bit.

"Indeed, but I do not come to the vua'sa seeking a battle, rather, I wish to bring the vua'sa to the battle it's self."

When Niv Lah did not voice protest, Nom Anor continued,

"There is a new war approaching, Commander. One that will restore glory to the children of the gods, those who were betrayed by their loathsome underlings. It will restore glory to the gods themselves."

"I see no war, shamed brenzlit, only insufferable indignities, endless time wasted." Niv Lah chipped in at last.

But Nom Anor was far from defeated.

"Word has not reached you of the destruction of the temple of unity?"

The temple, Niv Lah knew, was located in the heart of one of the most prolific of Yuuzhan Vong settlements. Renound already for it's fledgling projects of integrating the castes, it was also known for the Jeedai who dwelt there.
For the destruction of such a monument to occur, right beneath the noses of the Jeedai themselves, well...the idea seemed impossibly audacious.

"I have not," The commander confessed quietly, thinking this had to be a lie.

"Check with your superiors, you will find the temple most gone."

Again Niv Lah said nothing, he didn't even move - Nom Anor took this to mean scrutiny, checking Nom Anor over for any signs that what he said was all lies.

"With the power and knowledge of numbers, anything is possible, with faith, we could become unstoppable." He said reverently.

Faith would play a large part in his plan, he had long watched many a Yuuzhan Vong lose themselves completely to faith's fanatical demands. Often he would laugh inwardly at the lengths some of his people would go to, to satisfy non existent gods, how the priests would interpret their dreams as portents of fortune or suffering for their people.
Fools, they were all fools.

Used in the correct way, faith could become a tool with which to twist the masses - Onimi had proven that much.

Niv Lah had recovered his voice now.

"I shall look into the matter, but know this - if I should find that this is in any way untrue, I shall personally hunt you down and flay the skin from your bones."

Not completely unexpected, Nom Anor noted, he could cool his heels for but a moment, the matter of the temple was without doubt the most truthful thing he had spoken in some time.

"My life be forfeit, if this is not the truth." He said, inclining his head, so that the villip would display his actions well.

"In the meanwhile then, if what you say is true, what is it that you wish to ask of me?" Niv Lah said, this was no curious request, it was a demand for information.

"The true children of Yun-Yuuzhan require things of all those loyal to the gods." Nom Anor enthused,
"And Yun-Yammka's thirst for vengeance will know no bounds - we need warriors, all those worthy, to join us in seeking that vengeance against those who would oppress us. Against the Jeedai. Against the shamed."

He paused for effect.

"And then, we shall continue what Lord Shimrra started - we shall take back what is ours!"

Niv Lah's eyes seemed to glaze over opalescently for a moment, and Nom Anor hoped to the highest heights of his belief, that he had inspired the warrior.

"Shimrra was insane." The warrior commented flatly, "Even the Warmaster saw it. What sort of structure would this group of yours retain, without someone to rule. Who would be it's ruler...you? I trust not."

Nom Anor did not interrupt, he would run himself tired soon enough,

"It was fear that ruled the lower caste and the casteless alike during the old ways, it was fear that kept them in line. I for one, can tell you that our only surviving and highest ranking officer would be unwilling to join you - "

"-Then we shall select a new Warmaster, one who is truly worthy of the honorific." Nom Anor interjected finally, like a coufee cutting through flesh.

"Of course." Niv Lah responded, a little crestfallen.

But the former prefect knew, that the warrior was now contemplating the offer in a more positive light, he was seeking solutions to potential problems that his mind presented him. He was thinking tactically, and that was good, that was what Nom Anor needed him to be doing.
All the better for the both of them then, but it never hurt to tip the balance.

"You may officiate or vie for the position, if you agree to join us - as I speak, the movement gathers pace." Nom Anor nudged.

Niv Lah glowered through the villip, as though greatly offended by his words. The intendant knew different, however.

"It is not my place to decide, I would need to consult with the priests of Yun-Yammka and Yun-Yuuzhan. But your plans intrigue me - you would restore my gods-given title to me?" The warrior asked.

Nom Anor inclined his head in the affirmative, "Your title and more, fearsome one."

Now passed the several, tense moments of bleak and choking silence, through which Nom Anor had to remind himself to breathe.

When Niv Lah looked up, he did so so suddenly that the villip rocked back slightly to compensate. In his eyes, shone resolution...he had decided then.

"Very well, I shall join this...movement. For vengeance, for the glory of the Gods!" The Commander's voice was booming, even as the villip was recreating it.

And inside, that glimmer of triumph that Nom Anor had felt, became a blaze that set things in motion. It was all coming together so well...a little too well, but he would not slight that.

"Welcome, Commander Niv, domain Lah. We shall speak again before this day is at an end."

He placed a hand over the villip now, and the biot quickly inverted, returning to it's normal inactive state.

Exhaling, Nom Anor realized just how tense he had been throughout that entire conversation - he was starting to feel his age, perhaps. That was laughable in it's self, he was still relatively middle aged for his species, but there was something bothering him...the atmosphere in the chamber had seemingly shifted somehow. It just felt inexplicably....different.

And then it spoke...

"Greetings, Executor..."


TBC


And now...Seasons Greetings Infidels! >:)