[FIC] Nom Anor : An Executor Always Has An Escape plan...

[Trex]

WARNING : MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT READ THE NEW JEDI ORDER. ONLY READ IF YOU:

-HAVE READ THEM

-DON'T EVER INTEND TO READ THEM

-ALREADY KNOW HOW IT ENDS

-OR DON'T CARE

 

Remember the Yuuzhan Vong? Remember that weaselly Iago-esque spy called Nom Anor? Whether you liked the the vong or not, people seemed rather taken with the character, as was I. I was therefore rather disappointed with the lack of closure surrounding his death. I therefore present as my first post, a semi-crossover between Nom Anor's character and KOTOR. Please be gentle and say if you like/don't like. I've also included a quick rundown of Nom Anor's exploits for those who can't remember.

 

 

They appeared without warning from the edge of galactic space : a warrior race called the Yuuzhan Vong. Utalising an attack corridor from the edge of the galaxy to the core, the Yuuzhan Vong came in full force and with a holy war on their mind. Their ease of entry into the galaxy was greatly helped by the efforts of one Executor Nom Anor, who assisted in altering the gravity of the moon of Sernpidal in order for it to destroy the planet, incited a civil war on Rhommomool, and organized a sympathetic group of mercenaries named the peace brigade who could be relied on to do the Yuuzhan Vong's bidding. Having experimented in what the Yuuhzan Vong called shaping, he had also crafted many poisons, for one of which he abused Mara Jade Skywalker as his test subject. After the initial invasion however, Nom Anor became disgraced after failed assassination attempts and battle plans. A final disgrace came after the battle of Ebaq Nine, a battle which strongly relied on his intelligence resources and turned out to be a disaster for his people. Forced to go into hiding rather than face execution, Nom Anor moved to the underbelly of Yuuhzan'Tar, the newly crowned Yuuzhan Vong homeworld. Here, he assumed the guise of Yu'shaa, or 'the prophet', and became leader of the Yuuzhan Vong slaves known as shamed ones. During investigations into the living world Zonama Sekot, Nom Anor also believed that he killed shaper Nen Yim and priest Harrar, although Harrar survived.

 

During the Galactic Alliance's final attack on Yuuzhan'Tar, Nom Anor was forced to lead his shamed ones and join the Jedi in an attack on Supreme Overlord Shimrra's palace. Although technically their prisoner, Nom Anor fought alongside the Jedi as they took the palace and killed Shimrra in his throne room. The overlord's jester, and as it turned out manipulator Onimi, tried to escape the battle in the palace, which doubled as a flagship. He was quickly thwarted, but the group were left needing to escape before the ship crashed into the nearby planet. Nom Anor assisted the Jedi led team by showing them to an escape craft, but following an attempt to trick them into entering a waste processor instead, things turned nasty and Nom Anor ended up loosing an arm from Leia Organa Solos's lightsaber. Nevertheless, Nom Anor showed them the escape craft, but chose to remain behind rather than face what would be a very severe trial and execution. The team allowed him to do so and it was thought that he died along with the craft. Knowing the character of Nom Anor however, a few have maintained that he would have found some way to escape in those last few minutes...

 

 

 

 

NOM ANOR : AN EXECUTOR ALWAYS HAS AN ESCAPE PLAN...

 

 

 

PROLOGUE

 

Nom Anor's hand hurt. It really hurt.

 

A few moments ago when he had permanently misplaced it, there were far too many things going on to truly take in the full horror of the situation. He wondered if he had really made the right choice to stay behind, and suspected that he would find his mind revisiting the decision many more times in the future. If he had a future.

 

The ship shook as Nom Anor considered his options. If he could get to the bridge and find the right communications villip, perhaps he could signal the Jedi to come back for him. The irrational compulsions that added up to the Jedi manifesto demanded that they save him if they could, didn't it? But then again, rescue at the hands of those he had poisoned, killed the friends and allies of, and attempted to kill themselves, would probably not bode well for him when they were to safety. Not to mention the unavoidable trial and judgment he would be made to undergo concerning his actions during the war. He could make his excuses. He didn't really incite the riots at Rhommomool, he merely encouraged the idea. The citizens always had choice, didn't they? They didn't have to do what he told them. He didn't really crash Sernpidal's moon into the planet, that fault was with the Praetorite Vong. He merely...helped them out. He couldn't really be blamed for the peace brigade and their actions. If he hadn't set them up, they would have done so themselves eventually. And he couldn't really be blamed for Nen Yim and Harrar, at least not by the Galactic Alliance. They were Yuuzhan Vong. They were their enemy. What could they really blame him for? Time was running out though, and the odds of rescue were rapidly diminishing. Luckily of course, an executor always has an escape plan.

 

Only this time, he had allowed someone else to use it, and the Jedi were reaping the benefits even as he stood there thinking. There must be another way off the ship. There was always Shimmrra's personal yacht, but that required a minimum of two people to fly, usually Shimrra and 'supreme overlord' Onimi. Nom Anor allowed himself a snigger in memory of his twisted form falling apart as Jacen Solo did ... whatever it was that he had done. He would need Onimi to open the hatch to the yacht anyway. Or at least something left of Onimi...

 

Suddenly, the solution struck him. Shimrra's body was still sprawled on the floor before his throne. He doubted that he could lug the massive seven foot frame all the way up to the top floor, but a hand would do. He didn't even really need to 'fly' the yacht anyway, as long as he could launch it. That must be possible even one handed. In an instant, the executor found himself bounding down the worldship's levels and descending to the throne room. The scarred mass of bodies hadn't moved. Snatching up one of the scattered amphistaffs, he sliced off the former overlord's hand with an efficiency he would have gloated over if there were anyone to hear him. Thinking ahead, he glanced around, picked up a spare weapon and immediately stopped when he came across a truly disconcerting sight. Shimrra was staring at him. Coldly, lifelessly, yet somehow, inexplicably, mocking him. The decapitated head of flesh gazed into him even beyond death. Shimrra was actually mocking his last minute attempt at salvation. The executor couldn't explain why, maybe it was something to do with those still glistening eyes, but he grasped the head by the tough, scarred skin, and took it with him.

 

The exit to the supreme overlord's yacht was easy enough to find, and the process of opening the connecting sphincter with the disembodied hand went by with disconcerting ease. The worldship began to shake viciously. Nom Anor couldn't tell if it was the craft finally colliding with the planet or just burning up in the atmosphere. Neither did he have the time to decide. The controls were similar to that of a coralskipper's ; a cognition hood by the main pilots seat. Dropping his weapons to the floor and tossing Shimrra into co-pilot position, he slipped on the device. In only a few moments, the yacht was powered up and bursting out of it's dock. Nom Anor would have preferred a slower exit as this one was making him feel more than a little queezy, but he didn't really care. He was free, and he was alive. The executor gave into the urge for a victorious laugh as he turned to see the once almighty worldship of the supreme overlord light up in a blaze of erupting plasma. He turned to the head lying on the seat to his right and peered into the judging eyes.

 

“Only Nom Anor could succeed when two supreme overlords fail!”

 

As soon as the vessel cleared the mass shadows of the two nearby planets Yuuzhan'Tar and Zonama Sekot however, something whirred on the panels in front of him. Nom Anor looked, although regrettably, already knew what it was. His hesitation concerning whether or not he could fly a two pilot ship alone now became irrelevant as the yacht came to a sudden halt and began to rotate. The ship had a predesignated destination. Sitting back, the executor resigned himself to his new fate, and decided as the stars turned to dashed lines, that whatever it was, it would be far more rewarding than the last.

CHAPTER ONE

 

Nom Anor breathed air.

 

That wasn't right. At least not this type of air. The recirculated oxygen of the yorik coral pores had a practical if distinct smell. Nom Anor had pondered more than once that it would be similar to the air one would breath if trapped in the belly of a giant krayt dragon. But this was different. It was almost as if...

 

He awoke with a start. The mistake of simultaneously opening his mouth was soon emphasized as he spat out a soggy pile of salted sand. Looking around, he could clearly see that he was no longer piloting the former supreme overlord's yacht, although he was technically still in it. Two large coral chunks that had once comprised the hull lay on either side of him, and were buried halfway in sand. Looking around, Nom Anor stood and took in the area.

 

What now he saw was his crash site, was strewn over a tranquil beach teeming with biological life to either side. Any warm feelings he gained from the sight were quickly shaken however as he noticed the only sign of alien interaction. Wreckage was lying everywhere. Not just his own mounds of yorik coral, but metal debris of all shapes and sizes, the crowning piece being a massive military cruiser upturned and rising out of the shallows half a mile into the distance. Memories began to resurface. The yacht had come out of hyperspace as it had planned, but unlike what it had planned, had immediately begun spiraling out of control towards the nearest planet. He had tried to break the spin, but a one handed pilot in a two man vessel had no chance. The most he could do was try to level the crash, the result of said action lying in pieces around him.

 

This was the destination the yacht had been programmed for, but why in the galaxies would Onimi and Shimrra want to come here?

 

The normal reactions for the executor would have been to either collapse into a frustrated crouched stance of despair and anger, or kill the first life form he found that wasn't likely to fight back. Preparing to do the former, he took in a deep breath and came to a sudden halt as he heard something. It would be hard to describe beyond that, but if pushed Nom Anor would have to call it a croak.

 

The speaker, if it could be called such, sat on the beach to his right, gazing at him. The creature would have rivaled the late Vergere for peculiar appearances. The yellow-green life form was no bigger than his remaining hand and sat perched on two hind legs. It croaked again. No longer taken with the irreverence of the creature's appearance, Nom Anor whipped out his amphistaff from it's resting position coiled around his arm, flicked it into the weapon's infamous spear-like form, and hurled it at the creature. The amphistaff easily pinned the creature into the ground, ceasing it's croaking for good. Content with even this minor victory, Nom Anor strode over to retrieve his weapon.

 

Another croak sounded. This time it was further up the beachhead, but still bared the same innocent inquiring look on it's face. Nom Anor was about to send the animal to meet it's late brethren, but stopped when another caught his one eye in the reeds. Skimming the grassy surroundings, he could see that that there were even more beyond that. Resigning himself to the fact that he would probably need them for food eventually, he lowered the weapon. Instead, he used the next few minutes prying through the ship's wreckage.

 

A storage room behind the cockpit held a few interesting toys. A bag of razor bugs, one of Onimi's outfits and a giant villip were amongst the notable accessories. The razors bugs would come in useful eventually and he latched them onto his waistband without hesitation. Sadly, the villip was useless and Onimi's costume was definitely the inferior compared to the 'Yu'shaa' robe he still wore. He quickly found a use for it though, as the outfit was an incredibly convenient size and shape for holding the still intact head of Shimmra, which he still had an inexplicable compulsion to take with him. He was sure there was an irony in the act of the false overlord's head being wrapped in the true overlord's robes, and although he had neither the time nor the inclination to really run it through his head, embraced a sly smirk in response.

 

There was little choice in his destination. The only structure visible anywhere that was not wreckage lay on the horizon away from the shore. It struck Nom Anor as some sort of temple, but it made little difference. Sand wiped from face, amphistaffs coiled up arms and extra head wrapped up in bundle, he took off towards civilization.

* * *

 

Beyond yet more of what Nom Anor now named 'Yun-craqua's' in reference to the god of nuisance, there was little to be found on the way to the building. Finally standing in front of the towering building, Nom Anor found what was to be his first obstacle. The entrance was covered by some form of protection field. Not quiet the same as what the infidels would normally use, but one that still provided the same problem. Just to make sure, and for his own amusement, he grabbed a razor bug out of his pouch and flung it. The bug bounced off with a loud ping and landed somewhere in the grass nearby.

 

Ideas spun through Nom Anor's head. How to get through? Although scattered, the Dovin Basal of the former yacht might still work. If he could get it up here it would disrupt the field completely. Perhaps one of the wrecked vessels surrounding the area still contained explosives. Maybe he could climb the walls. After a few more idea's, he halted his mind, realizing that each idea he came up with was more far fetched than the last.

 

“Iiya brie ghoouizsha.”

 

Although not particularly angry or demanding, the deep booming voice made Nom Anor jump. A literal jump in fact, that ended with him facing the other direction, desperately trying to seek out who had spoken it.

 

“Iiya brie ghoouizsha.”, the voice demanded again.

 

For a brief moment, Nom Anor thought that the gods had finally found him and Yun-Harla was demanding an explanation for his recent failings. He found consolation be reminding himself that he didn't believe in the gods, and that it was more likely some form of amplifier device originating from the temple.

 

“IIYA BRIE GHOOUIZSHA!”

 

Whatever the voice was saying clearly demanded some form of reply. Making his best educated guess, Nom Anor stepped towards the entrance and in the best Basic he could muster without use of a Tizowyrm, declared, “I am...Yu'shaa!”

 

He silently cursed himself for his inability to come up with a better alias. It was a standard ploy for an executor to effect a false identity and he blamed his lack of imagination on recent traumatic experiences. The reply was loud and, Nom Anor thought, a little confused.

“Oo-ee-ka! Oo-ee-ka!”

“I...mean you no harm.”, Nom Anor replied, unable to come out with anything else. “I come from,-”

“State...yourself.”, the voice sounded.

At least it was progress, even if he hadn't a clue on what to say in reply.

“State...yourself.”

“I am Yu'shaa.”, he tried again.

“This is not...correct. State...yourself.”

In his few unsatisfying attempts at playing Sabacc, Nom Anor had come across a tactic known as going for broke. He inexplicably choose to embrace it for the first time, and at this very inopportune moment.

“I am Nom Anor, High Exectutor of the great Yuuzhan Vong!”

Without ceremony, the energy field collapsed.

“Welcome executor Nom Anor. Your honesty is welcome here.” The voice boomed back, “Although the greatness of these 'Yuuzhan Vong' will need to be determined.”

 

Nom Anor visibly swallowed. Was this a being speaking to him, or merely some form of automated defense system? How was it able to read the truth in his words? It occurred to him that a yammosk would see through such deceptions, but one would not question the accuracy of his use of the word great. Jedi were known to see through such deceptions through the use of their force, but it was well known to him that the they had difficulty perceiving the Yuuzhan Vong in such ways. He finally decided on something between not caring and being about to find out in a few minutes anyway.

 

Lifting his head up high, Nom Anor strode inside.

[Trex]

Well nobody's said anything for it, but nobody's said anything against it either, so in case you're wondering where i'm going with this, here's part two...

 

CHAPTER TWO

It stood there, four legs akimbo, grey turreted chassis, and one glowing eye. Nom Anor assumed it was a droid. In the grand scheme of Yuuzhan Vong, he was an expert at identifying the various different species of this galaxy, and this was not exactly a Corellian.

 

“Nom Anor”, it said, rotating one of it's many head extensions, “You are...recognized. Please...follow.”

 

The arachnoid-like droid turned a backwards half rotation, a movement which gave Nom Anor more than a minute to take in his surroundings. The interior of the structure was a style the executor could not begin to categorize. A Nubian style minus any artistic input would be the best he could manage, although almost immediately after, he realized that this was a borderline contradiction. The basic rocky design was repeated everywhere he looked, from wall, ceiling to floor. The main sub-structure was a double door entrance to a higher level directly beyond the metallic pseudo-instectoid creature standing before him.

 

As the doors opened in response to the droid's advancement, it cocked it's one eye round to address it's guest.

 

“Please...follow.”

 

Beyond the imposing doors, a shallow ramp led up to what Nom Anor could only assume to be the roof. As the, ultimately incompetent, droid continued to tediously guide him along the passage, frustration consumed him like nothing he had ever felt since his days humoring Tsavong Lah. An uncontrollable urge to strike some humor into the situation moved Nom Anor to hold the next doorway open for the droid on it's ridiculously slow route. As it passed inappreciatively, ignoring interpretations of either courtesy or humor, the urge was replaced rather rapidly with one to wreck the robotic frame where it crawled. Alas, Nom Anor resigned himself to one of his old axiums : It's better to have something you don't need, than need something you don't have, and temperamentally paced after the guide.

 

* * *

 

 

The causeway to the roof was cluttered with near white cylinders, all filled with a plant life that Nom Anor had long forgotten his appreciation for. Living essence was seeping from them through a way that the Yuuzhan Vong no longer followed. It had what he could only describe as...life. Green organisms stemmed from the basin tops and encompassed them to the ground in some instances. Petaled growths shot out of a spectrum colored summit and composed what could have been a reflection of Shimrra's once healthy eyes. It almost struck Nom Anor as admirable. His 'almost' was certainly a result of the Vong's recent encounters against the newfound galactic Alliance and their own love for such things.

 

He stopped. In terms of the route he was on and the interminable speed it was advancing , this was no great delay, but what he had just thought had to be addressed. It was a little thing, unnoticeable to the casual observer, but something...

 

Something...

 

He had said 'Vong'.

 

Had he uttered it in the presense of the supreme overlord, he would have been executed on site. The precursor title of 'Yuuzhan' was an honorable nod to the great Yun-Yuuzhan, chief god to the Yuuzhan Vong, and to use only the title Vong without justification, was the ultimate insult known to the gods, save the complete denile of their existence. Apparently Nom Anor's somewhat heretic views had finally taken their toll.

 

The final double doors slid open automatically as the droid approached it. Beyond where Nom Anor stood, the roof was covered with plant like growths as far as he could see. Creepers sproated from the ground and spread out over the edge of the building, entangled along the way with flowers and barked shoots. Leading through the tranquil pasture was a pathway, twisting back and forth up until a large clearing at the far end.

 

For all the extravagant foliage around the roof, it wasn't what got Nom Anor's attention however. It was the unexpected woman that caught his sight, clad in a black robe very reminiscent of those the Jedi wore.

 

As he strode closer, the droid now waiting by the door, and her features became clearer. Her skin was pale white in a stark contrast to her long jet black hair. At least these were the first impressions Nom Anor got. Scrutinizing closer, her hair was not black at all. The outer layer was black, but underneath was red. And this was not the type of red he had seen on Mara Jade Skywalker, this was more like the red of a freshly cut wound, or the shot from a blaster pistol. As her head swayed while she worked, the red seemed to inexplicably never surface above the black. It was as if it were contained beneath the outer layer, desperate to be free, but constantly quashed.

 

As she finally stopped her work to turn to him however, any interest in her hair styling quickly shot from his train of thought, as he saw what hung from her belt. The small cylindrical weapon that was infamous throughout the galaxy. The same weapon that had been responsible for the loss of his hand. The lightsaber. Two of them. In fact Nom Anor could swear that there was a third one there as well, tucked just under her robe.

 

Before he could contemplate any reaction, whether it be panic or assault, she smiled at him.

 

“He-llo.”

 

The way she phrased it was far from how he expected a Jedi to addressed him. They usually had that self-righteous accent that immediately made them sound annoyingly aloof and disconcertingly wise.

 

“You are the...Nom Anor?” She asked as she looked him up and down, more in a way of sizing him up for a new outfit than checking for weapons he thought.

 

“Yes.” He said weakly, then shook off his coyness and replied more appropriately, “Yes! I am Executor Nom Anor, High Prefect of the late Supreme Overlord of the Yuuzhan Vong!”

 

“Oh.” She mused, “Would you like some juice?”

 

“What?”

 

“I have some juice. Would you care for some?”

 

Nom Anor looked at her for a moment. It had actually been sometime since his body had had any nourishment, but he also had more important matters to be dealing with. He shook his head.

 

“No. I've crashed.”

 

“So I see. Can i help?”

 

“I require a ship.”

 

“To go where?”

 

“That is no concern of yours. Do you have a ship or not?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Nom Anor sighed. He was in no mood for these games of conversation. He tried an easier question.

 

“What is your name?”

 

“Why do you need to know?”

 

Finally completely frustrated, he slid an amphistaff down his sleeve and straightened it, ready to plunge into her arm with the aim of actually advancing the negotiations. Before he could reach her however, something slimy and natural held him back. Looking down, he saw the creepers had come to life and were entwining his good arm and right leg. He had a moment to look back at the woman in confusion before he was hoisted into the air and suspended sideways. A different form of creeper with what looked like a sting hovered in the air in front of him.

 

The woman took a few steps forward and looked him in the eye.

 

“My name is Quanemlayne Valamercin, Executor Nom Anor. You would do well to remember it.”

 

Two things occurred to him. Firstly that he may be able to hit her with his Plaeryin Bol , and secondly that the red undergrowth of her hair seemed to be showing more as she became angry.

 

Before he could consider either, the hovering creeper stung him in the belly and he passed out.

[Trex]

Well, here's part three for those who want to read it...

 

CHAPTER THREE

It was night when Nom Anor woke, and judging by the stiffness of his body, he felt it likely that he had already slept through a few of them. He apparently hadn't moved, and was not only still on the rooftop, but still confined by the dexterous foliage. As a random test, he moved his arm and found that it was freed with only the slightest effort. A second later he had bound to his feet, and checked to find all his weapons missing. He still had his poison spitting eye of course, but it was insufficient for the task of taking on a Jedi, or whatever she was.

 

Not a bit of life could be seen as he looked around, the plants in the nocturnal half of their daily cycle. Something did catch the corner of his eye however, down on the ground further along the beach where he had crashed, in the next cove. A flickering light, seemingly a fire. Nom Anor's normal reaction at such a time as this would be to avoid as much contact as possible, but given that he was still stranded on a mysterious planet in the middle of nowhere, he decided to pay these strangers a visit. He also made a mental note to act with more decorum that with his captor, and if she was there...well maybe she would accept an apology.

 

* * *

 

Rather than chancing any security systems on the ground level, Nom Anor chose to descend the building by belying down one the creepers scaling the outside wall. This was no easy task one-handed, but he was on the ground soon enough.

 

As he approached the beach, it was immediately obvious that his captor was not only present but well acquainted and friends with the others there. Twenty or so aliens sat around the fire in the middle of the beachhead, chanting in a language he did not recognize, while she danced around like an idiot on the shore. He quietly scoffed, never having understood dancing in any form.

 

There were a number of options open to him. If everyone was down here on the beach, he would be able to search the entire temple without interruption. He dismissed this on the grounds of an unknown number of droids that may be patrolling it. There was of course also the possibility of him running off in search of another, more co-operative group of inhabitants. This of course was very dependent on such a group actually existing however. Swallowing his pride, and acting as casually as he could force, he strode towards the fire.

 

Not bothering to hide, he was spotted fairly quickly. Thankfully, rather than hurl anything, one of the aliens walked over to greet him, a smile on it's face. Close up, Nom Anor could see that the yellow alien was much taller than him, although this may have been due to it's exceedingly high forehead. It's height was further emphasized by smallness of it's eyes mounded on antennae on either side of it's head. He also discovered that it thankfully spoke basic.

 

“You are the Nom Anor, Yes? Quane tells that you were impolite when addressing earlier.”

 

If Nom Anor recalled he had actually tried to kill her, but if this was merely deemed impolite here he had no cause to complain.

 

“Yes. I would like to apologize if she would accept it.”

 

“Ah, this is good. You will have need of friends if you are to be staying here.”

 

Nom Anor smiled. Given the usual condition of Yuuzhan Vong teeth, this was possibly more imposing than friendly, but it was worth a try.

 

“I was actually hoping to leave soon. Do you have any idea where i might acquire a vessel?”

 

“A vessel? You will be climbing an unassailable mountain if you wish to depart this world.”

 

“I am not permitted to leave?”

 

“You are permitted, but unable. A field both causes ships to crash here, and prevents them from leaving.”

 

“And this field cannot be shut down?”

 

“It's source is unknown. One such as it existed long ago, but was controlled from the temple you have just left. We have searched it thoroughly, to no avail.”

 

Nom Anor was about to inquire further when one of the least expected and least wanted things he could imagine sounded in the air : a blood curdling roar. The aliens stopped their chanting and stared into the air above his head. Slowly turning, Nom Anor found himself staring into the eyes of a massive thirty foot beast. He knew what it was, he has seen them as 'pets' during his time in Hutt space, but rancors were never meant to get this big. It may have been his overactive mind laced with paranoia, but he could have sworn it was also staring straight into his eyes.

 

It was about to take a step forward when he heard another disconcerting sound from behind him.

 

FFFHHHSSS!!!

 

A red bar of light came flying from the area of the beach. It struck the rancor in the shoulder, causing a shriek, but no change in it's resolve. Another hit the beast, followed by a third, each with the same result. Finally, a red-black blur leaped through the air above him, wielding two of the glowing red weapons, and hit the monster firmly in the chest. The following attacks were far to fast for Nom Anor to follow with his eye, but the rancor was clearly loosing.

 

It ended when the creature fell to the ground a few seconds later and Quane stood heroically atop the dead mound of flesh. Her hair was redder than anything Nom Anor could remember and her breaths deep. With a brief wave of her hand, the five lightsabers hovered towards her and re-affixed themselves to her belt.

 

One of the aliens began chanting again. The rest either joined in or cheered as three of them lifted Quane down from the corpse.

 

Nom Anor was not looking at her however. He was looking at the cold lifeless eyes of the rancor still staring at him. It was exactly the same stare that Shimrra's eye's had given him. Had both of these beings been trying to tell him something? Something he should had done? Something he should do? This prompted him to realize that he actually had no idea where the supreme overlord's head had ended up.

 

Turning back towards the crowd, he found that Quane was heading towards him. He also noticed that her hair had also returned to it's more usual pseudo-black. In the few seconds before she reached him, he had time to run a disconcerting series of thoughts through his head. What was this Jedi? Was she a Jedi? He had never come across a red lightsaber before, but was well aware of those who famously wielded them. If she was indeed a Sith, what was she doing befriending a group of pacifist aliens? And, more importantly, what in the galaxy had he gotten himself into?

 

Smiling at Quane, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for the best false apology he could muster.

[Trex]

The next chapter. Any comments..?

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

It was a week later, and although Nom Anor was a great deal more comfortable than in any location he had previously been, he was far from content.

 

Quane had accepted his apology and allowed him a room in the temple. It was large enough, but Nom Anor could not help thinking “Large enough for what?”. There was ultimately nothing to do here. Quane spend her entire day on the roof nursing her plants, then went down to the beach to spend the evening with her friends, which he had learned were named Rakatans. After his experience down on the beach a week before, he had declined to join them again, but still heard their chanting clearly enough each night.

 

Instead, his time had been taken trying to discover the source of the field preventing any ships from departing. This was all a moot point since he had no ship to leave on, but it was something to do. The droid which had greeted him upon his arrival, named Vrook for a reason Nom Anor did not know, seemed to know very little, and was extremely stubborn about sharing any information at all. His only ray of hope had come from an old computer located in the basement. It had limited resources, probably due to the fact that it's memory core had clearly been tampered with, but still provided a large amount of entertainment.

 

Apparently, thousands of years ago, there had been a civilization that had stretched across the entire galaxy, the tribe of Rakatans on the beach being the last remnants left. There were many tales involving minor wars against brutal species from the edge of the galaxy that were 'heroically' defeated, and even more romantically driven stories involving lovers on different sides of a brief civil war that allied the two sides together. The stories were entertaining enough, but were both possibly untrue and entirely irrelevant to is problems. More importantly, the computer included no information on either craft in the area or a means of deactivating the field.

* * *

 

Nom Anor had also taken to using the afternoons to scout the surrounding area. A few days ago he had traveled all the way through the night to reach a mountain in the near distance. During the day, it had provided a good viewpoint and confirmed that there were in fact no other forms of civilization to be seen, possibly on the planet.

 

During this afternoon's exercise, he was quick to notice commotion down on the beach where he had crashed. Taking a slow route down to join the activities, he found Quane casually dueling with two of the Rakata's, armed with double bladed swords and taking them on one at a time. Watching them from a distance, was the older looking Rakata who had spoken to him previously. He believed his name was Roompa.

 

Roompa turned to acknowledge him as he arrived, but straight away turned himself back to the fight.

 

“The sun smiles on us today.” The Elder Rakata said.

 

“Yes.” Nom Anor hesitantly replied, slightly confused and staring up at the sun, expecting some form of emotional reaction from it.

 

Quane spotted his arrival and skipped over, bowing extravagantly before him.

 

“Executor Nom Anor,” she said, “What brings a member of the great Yuuzhan Vong to our little get together?”

 

Nom Anor thought that there may have been an edge of sarcasm in her tone, but didn't even reply. He merely shrugged, allowing Quane to go back to her training.

 

“I am curious as to why you are here, Executor,” Roompa began, “and i do not speak of how you came to be here. I perhaps speak of something greater. I have not seen Vimack since you arrived.”

 

“Vimack?”

 

The Elder looked at him and smiled. “You have not noticed the strange ways of this place then?”

 

Nom Anor thought for a moment. There was something that had been bugging him.

 

“When i first arrived, the droid, Vrook, knew when i was lying. No one can tell when i am lying. I do not understand how Quane knew my name either ; the droid had no way to communicate it to her.”

 

“Listen carefully, executor. This is no small tale.”

 

Roompa sniggered then took a deep breath.

 

“A long time ago, longer than almost the galaxy can remember, there was a man. He was incomparable. For those who could see, it was said that staring into him was like staring into the heart of the force. Quanemlayne Valamercin was training to be a Jedi at the time, and was noticed by this man. He took her. He trained her. She became his apprentice.

 

But as the training progressed, he decided that she was not what he required. He apparently needed someone who would join him, and found his servant in another, named Malak. But what of Quanemlayne? She was taken to be trained by others of course ; Vrook slowed her down, Vash disagreed with her, Kavar did not understand her. A long and arduous self contained struggle tore her apart from the inside out.

 

But none could surpass him. She denied the teachings of the Jedi order, then left in search of the only one she could follow. Revan.

 

Times had changed by this point. Revan had turned to the dark side, then been betrayed and reportedly killed by his apprentice Malak. Rising from the ashes however, Revan returned, far from dead, and killed his treacherous apprentice. It was after this that Revan disappeared and Quane had decided to seek him out. She chose to retrace his steps from the moment he left her. This led her to the planet known as Korriban.

 

She came looking for answers, but found that there were none. She will not speak of what occurred there, except to mention a cave, and that when she left there was another. A one named Vimack. She would say that it was the beginning of what her old master was trying to teach her, and that this Darth Vimack was her answer to his absence.

 

Her search continued, and eventually lead her here. Her ship of course crashed, and she was stranded. It would not have been quite as complicated if she had found us sooner, but the crash was in the mountains to the south. She spend a year out there, wrestling between Quane and Vimack. When we found her, she was something else. Twisted and transformed, the two had become one.

 

This was nothing compared to what was to follow however. After a time it became apparent that that there was more. After fifty cycles, none of us had aged, none of us had died, and it was clear that Quane was the source of this. It is as if neither side of the force will claim her unless she falls to the other. The balance is sustaining.

 

As for why the life here is connected to her, i cannot say. But her power extends to my people, the plants she grows, and even the droids. I daresay it even extends to you, executor.”

 

“My people have encountered Jedi before,” Nom Anor replied, “It is our experience that the they cannot sense us through the force.”

 

“I do not pretend to fully understand executor, I can only point out that which has transpired.”

 

The two fell silent, watching the duels on the shore. The way Nom Anor observed Quane felt different now. It was not however, what could be called the normal human reaction. It was something more Nom Anor. If this creature was truly bound to everything here, from plant to droid, then there must be something that could be done. If he could successfully manipulate her to his needs, perhaps there was a way off this planet after all. It appears that may have need to communicate with this 'Vimack'.

 

Quane stopped suddenly. Paranoia gripped Nom Anor as he thought for a second that she had heard his inner thoughts. Such thoughts were soon forgotten as Quane only briefly glanced at him, and turned towards the sky. He followed her gaze until he saw what she had sensed.

 

A ship appeared, tumbling towards them from the 'smiling' sun. Clearly someone else had fallen victim to this planet's uncompromising field. As the ship came closer, Nom Anor found that he recognized it. The familiar triangular shaped hull sored down over his head and crashed into a cove further up the beach.

 

The party moved off to reach it immediately but Nom Anor waited behind. Satisfying the want for a quiet moment to himself, he took off after the other towards the fallen coralskipper.

 

 

 

[CSI]

Oh mother...Nicely done, although I never read Yuuhzan Vong, but some spoilers won't affect on me--I visit Wookiepedia on daily basis...So don't worry.

 

By the way, nice job at all and welcome to Lucas Forums, and have a nice day here.

[Trex]

Thank you. I was a little worried that no-one was ever going to comment.

[DarthSion101]

Very good fic, Nom Anor has been one of my favorite characters since he was introduced in Vector PRime back in 1999, I too was rather unsatisfied with the lack of closure to his story, and personally believe him to be alive and well. Excellent, keep it coming.

[Trex]

Thanks for the positive feedbacks. I'm adding the next two chapters together since I don't think one makes that much sense without the other...

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

The velocity of the vessel's impact had left a crater the size of a Corellian freighter, and by the time Nom Anor arrived it was swarming with over twenty Rakata, and of course, Quane. She had already dragged the unfortunate pilot from the wreckage and pronounced him dead. A small part of Nom Anor had desired to find someone he was familiar with, but this Vong was no-one. Judging by his hands and the fact that he was wearing an Ooglith masquer, he was clearly a shaper of some form, but judging by his lack of scars he wasn't that high ranking.

 

The group bowed their heads in silent unison for a few moments of memoriam. None of them seemed to notice Nom Anor simply standing there, and neither they nor him seemed to care. His attentions were far more concerned with the state of the craft. As soon as the group were finished with their remorse, they hauled away the lifeless corpse to wherever it was they left or buried their dead, and Nom Anor was able to get a good, private, look at what was left.

 

Seawater from the lapping waves had already begun filling the crater and wet sand clung to his legs. The only thing that concerned the executor however, was what he could salvage. Alas, the craft was probably in a worse condition that the one he had arrived in. The corralskipper only really comprised of four separate parts ; the hull, the cognition drive system, the weapons, and the dovin basal, and none were likely to flicker back to life anytime soon.

 

This was when he finally bowed his head, although it's was meaning was far from reverence for his fallen comrade. It was finally beginning to take hold that he may never leave this planet no matter what.

 

“Executor Nom Anor of the great Yuuzhan Vong.”

 

Quane spoke up so suddenly that Nom Anor banged his head on a protruding section of the hull above his head. He turned to look at her. The odd being was staring at him, that usual look of an inquisitive yet lost youngling poised on her face.

 

“Is it of any use?” she asked innocently.

 

Nom Anor could only react by closing his eyes and shaking his head. His desperation had gone so far in fact, that it was beginning to consume him.

 

The moment would have remained static and silent had the sound of one Quane's weapon activating not shot into the air. The executor snapped to in an instant and saw that she was staring at the base of the hull. Before he could look, a warm, soggy feeling began creeping up his arm.

 

The arm pulled back and Nom Anor found his assailant. At the point where it met the water, the hull was moving. Shifting. Growing and creeping up his arm.

 

It was well known to him that the Yuuzhan Vong craft were living organisms, but the expertise regarding their reactions to liquids was a knowledge reserved for the shaper caste, not the executor's. Still, it's reaction to water was apparent.

 

“Oh. It's like a plant.”

 

“In a way,” Nom Anor explained, “It's a living organism. The...craft becomes a symbiont with it's pilot host in order to fly, as opposed to your kind's consoles and sticks.”

 

“Hmm.” Quane mused, then hopped down next to Nom Anor, examining the coral close-up. “This can be grown.”

 

Fear and desperation flashed away from the executor's mind.

 

“Like your plants?”, he began, drawing closer to Quane's face for emphasis, “You realize what this is, yes? These hulls, these ships, are grown. And you say you can manipulate them, like your plants? Grow them to your will? Shape them?”

 

Quane looked at him quizzically. “What do you require of it?”

 

“A ship.”

 

Quane shrugged, “A hull...yeah, okay. But i can't make it fly. It needs engines.”

 

“Well what about those?”, he asked, waving his good hand towards the military cruiser rising out of the ocean.

 

“They can't...” She began, waving her hands towards each other, “...work together.”

 

“Do you still have my ship?”

 

They looked at each other, the same train of though clearly in both their minds. Shimrra's yacht had abused a technology which combined both Yuuzhan Vong and infidel technology, the metal and electrical type. A Yuuzhan Vong hull, which could be grown, which could be connected to ...anything. Nom Anor stood and spun around, taking in every bit of wreckage in sight. The cruiser's engines could still work, a wrecked freighter's gravity systems might still operate, a downed fighter's weapon's systems may still fire.

 

The two of them smiled, understanding the other's unspoken words, and everything which would follow them.

* * *

 

By the next day, Quane was already well underway. She had dug a massive pit just off the entrance to the temple, filled it with water, and persuaded the Rakata's to transfer the coralskipper to what would be her new workshop. Various plants, of various shapes and various sizes, came down to join her. This would have quite alright had some of them not moved of their own free will and at her command, but Nom Anor was quite content when watching the process from his second level balcony. Watching her happily scurrying about reminded him...

 

“May i have a moment of your time, Executor?”

 

Nom Anor leapt onto a storage unit in the corner with incomparable acrobatic grace and forced his back rigidly against the wall behind him. It was impossible for him to have heard that voice, but such reassurances did not change the fact that it had happened.

 

When returning his possessions, Quane had been sure to include the now molding piece of flesh that had been Shimrra's head. Although the flesh had begun to deteriorate, the dark, judging eyes had not not changed. It was from this fallen lord that the deep, booming voice had emanated. Nom Anor did not have a clue how to respond.

 

“Dread lord...” He began.

 

“Silence!”

 

The voice was a little less intimidating this time. This was mainly because Nom Anor observed that the head had not miraculously reanimated itself as he at first thought, apparent from the fact that it's lips never moved.

 

“What is this?” The Executor inquired, leaning forward more confidently towards the flesh.

 

“Think, Executor, think. Think, then realize.”

 

A realization dawned. One that he only half understood, but one which answered.

 

“Vimack,” he uttered, “You're Vimack.”

 

“Yyyeeesss”, the voice rasped. Although it was clear that it was technically emanating from the workshop outside, probably on some telepathic level, he still had an urge to direct himself towards the head piece.

 

“What do you want?”, he asked.

 

“Wants akin to your own, I assure you executor. To escape this prison of a planet, and to remove Quanemlayne Valamercin from both our lives.”

 

“I have no interest in 'removing' her.”

 

“Do not attempt to deceive me, executor. It is in your nature to betray that which you follow. This Quanemlayne will be no different.”

 

“I have a need for her.”

 

“Not a one which will last. You will manipulate her to you're own ends and then, and then you will need me.”

 

“Need you?”

 

“This galaxy is no longer safe for you, Executor. You will be hunted like the fugitive and monster you are. If you are to survive, you will need a guardian, a warrior, like me. Not a gardener like her. Use her, then destroy her!”

 

With that, Nom Anor grabbed his nearby Robe and tossed it over the head. Although the why made no sense, the action ended the conversation.

 

He collapsed into a sitting position and rested his weary head onto his hand. This place was becoming far to confusing and complicated. Feeling comfy enough where he was, he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Nom Anor woke to find himself in his bed. He could not recall pulling himself over here, but thought nothing of the position change. The night was thick and the sweat pouring off him. He casually raised his left hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead and found it...there.

 

“Does it work?”, Quane asked from out of the darkness. Why she was here, he did not care. What mattered was his hand. The eight fingered hand which now adorned his left arm reacted slowly to his thoughts, but still moved when commanded.

 

“I'm quite enjoying Yuuzhan Vong technology now,” She continued, “It's fun.”

 

“You took the shaper's hand?”

 

“Yep. Well he doesn't need it anymore. Not that hard when you know what you're doing. It's just like cross breeding different species of plant. Like i say ; fun. I found some weird skin cloak thing that he was wearing as well. I put it on your chair.”

 

Nom Anor stared deep into his hand. To Quane this may just be a bit of fun, but she clearly did not understand the consequences of her actions. The tool and weapon of the shaper caste as the palm of his hand.

 

Imagine what was possible

.

[Trex]

CHAPTER SIX

 

After Nom Anor slept disconcertingly soundly for the remainder of the night, waking up with the sunlight had an air of triumph to it and he emphasized every small action possible as he adorned his robe with his brand new hand. The rigidity from the night before had passed and the hand was now as flexible as the old one, although needless to say with three extra digits. Had it been in his nature, he would have been tempted to dance the dressing process.

 

He strode out to his balcony to see that Quane was already active in her workshop. It would not have surprised him if she did not actually sleep. The plant arms which had so efficiently captured him on his first day here were assisting her and the shape of the craft was already noticeable. It was looking to be somewhat larger than he had anticipated, something closer to the Millennium Falcon than a two person fighter craft, but if Quane was confident that she could manage, that was good enough for him.

 

The first action Nom Anor made sure he undertook that morning was to wrap Shimrra's into a section of his bedding, then transfer it to the roof, where he dumped it amongst the network of weeds. His uncontrollable will to preserve what was left of his former Supreme commander had subsided, but he still wasn't up to the task of cremating it. As he turned to leave it where it fell, the voice once again echoed from the unmoving mouth.

 

“You think she has not looked, executor?”

 

Hoping to produce an ingenious response but finding himself confused by the question, Nom Anor could only turn back.

 

“This building. It possesses a basement. In this basement there is a computer. An ancient thing, but one which still serves it's purpose.”

 

“I've seen it”, Nom Anor replied, “ Speak your mind before I leave it here to rot.”

 

“The one named Revan, the one whom Quane and myself followed to this world. In order to preserve a...balance, he destroyed much of this world's technology and teachings. When you found this computer, I wonder, did you observe the floor panels towards it's entrance?”

 

“Perhaps. What of them?”

 

“Once, they were part of an encoded system to gain access to this computer system. Now, they are a restriction embedded into the matrix. A correctly entered sequence of panels activated will unlock the higher functions, and higher knowledge of these systems.”

 

“And why would I require such access?”

 

“I trust you have not forgotten the energy field which surrounds this planet. A ship is of little use to you if cannot even depart.”

 

Nom Anor carefully considered the statement, and then headed for the basement.

 

* * *

 

Now that he was to be using them for something, Nom Anor made a careful note of what he now saw were ten different panels which alternated between orange and white depending on the order one stepped on each. He was decently versed in what this galaxy referred to as mathematics, but breaking the code embedded in this system was no small task even for an expert.

 

After an hour of stepping on the various panels in various sequences to provoke various colorful reactions, Nom Anor began writing on the walls with a soft stone he had discovered which left a conveniently bright white mark whenever he scraped it across the darker stone. By the second hour, there were more white markings than wall. By the third hour, he had found a small pile of stones in the deep corner and had began bouncing them across the floor to leave the answer purely up to chance.

 

It was then that Nom Anor recalled a maxim from his youth and executor training which stated that there was no chance. Rising up from his position, he poised over the mysterious panels and saw them in a different light.

 

He had never known this Revan of which so many had spoken, but it was clear that he was no fool. It was also clear that he had been human. It also struck him that if Vimack had ever truly possessed access to the computer's hidden depths, then it would never have required Nom Anor to break this code. Folding more to instinct than logistics, he stood high and mighty facing the computer in the room beyond and spoke an alteration of the first words he had ever spoken upon this world.

 

“I am Nom Anor, High Executor of the great Yuuzhan Vong! I request and demand you obedience.”

 

Nothing happened, and for a moment, Nom Anor felt something of a fool. Words he had thought only a few moments ago echoed once again : 'he had also been human'.

 

“Quanemlayne Valamercin requests your presence. Speak. Speak now or betray her as you always have.”

 

A moment of silence held the air. Followed by another voice. One, as of yet, Nom Anor had not heard, and which spoke from the computer.

 

“Well, Quane! It is no small thing that you have made it this far.”

 

The former executor replied, “I am no Quanemlayne. I am Nom Anor.of....

 

“I must interject at this point, unknown friend, and confirm that I an merely an artificial intelligence created by the great Lord Revan. I speak as the general himself, but I am far from his qualified intelligence. My apologies therefore in being unable to address you by your correct name.”

 

“I see. Would it be too large a task for me to pose a query?”

 

“Ask, and I will answer.”

 

Nom Anor thought that this program's last replay had contained a mild chuckle, presumably a private joke to whomever had lent their voice to the software, and who he presumed was indeed Revan himself.

 

“I require access to the higher functions of this computer.”

 

“There are only three permitted to access such things. One is myself. The other are both female, and therefore, not you.”

 

He grimaced. It was no strained guess to say that one of these were Quane, although he did also wonder who this other female was. Or had been.

 

“EXECUTOR!!!”

 

Quane's voice echoed throughout the corridors, and possibly the entire planet. It was clearly both urgent and coming from the roof so the executor took off after it, although not without swinging by his room to pick a certain something up.

 

* * *

 

Nom Anor bound onto the roof to find Quane with weapons drawn, although not ignited, and staring into the garden section. The creepers were alive in a way he had not previously seen, convulsing into and around each other at incredible speed. Only one thing genuinely held his mind however, and that was missing head of Shimrra.

 

“What happened?” he asked, but gaining no reply tried again louder and grabbing hold of Quane with both hands. “What happened?!”

 

“I don't know! Did you do something?”

 

“I...I tossed something into the pile.”

 

“'Something?!'”

 

“The head. Shimrra's head.”

 

Quane's face sank and she turned back to the activity, simply and calmly adding, “Oh no.”

 

Without warning, a huge monstrous frame lurched forward from the mess. The body was strange and twisted, a combination of flesh and plant, but there was no mistaking what was perched atop it. The still cold, dead eyes stared at him.

 

“Vimack?”

 

He could sense Quane's reaction to the name from behind, but ignored her. The monster made no reply and was clearly no Sith Lord, to which Nom Anor extrapolated that the situation was not as bad as he had at first suspected.

 

“We have to kill,-”

 

He quickly spun and struck her harshly to the face. The unexpected blow sent her to the floor and left her staring at him fearfully. Nom Anor was not concerned, and instead chose to approach the tall twisted creature.

 

“Executor...”

 

He slapped the form hard across the face, a harsh act designed to provoke his obedience.

 

“Welcome to Rakata prime, Shimrra.”

 

As the former supreme overlord settled, Nom Anor looked him up and down to find that one of his hands possessed a token eight fingers. So that was it. The dead shaper had been left here after Quane had removed his hand. The addition of the head to the collection must have sparked off one of the many processes the plants were designed to undertake. The other hand was present, presumably crafted more out of plant than flesh. What had not been changed however was the height. Shimrra still towered at almost double Nom Anor's height. Had the tall creature not been leaning forward it would have been impossible to land such a blow. The still decayed head stared at him.

 

“I'm apologize over being the one to inform you of the fact, but I'm afraid you're dead, Shimrra.”

 

“Dead?”

 

“Via lightsaber to the neck”, he added a little hand gesture to emphasize the point, “By master Luke Skywalker no less. And in case you're wondering, this was followed by many an admission from Onimi, and ultimately his death.”

 

The head looked downwards, despondent.

 

“I know what you are now, Shimrra. The fraud affront a puppet master. You are nothing now except a slave without a master. Well...not entirely without a master.”

 

Shimrra glared back at him.

 

“Now answer me this, slave. Why am I here? These coordinates were pre-programmed into your private yacht. What was it about this place which interested you so?”

 

“There were...rumors. Rumors of ancient power known as the Star Forge which once belonged to this world. Onimi believed that a rumor was good enough to warrant an investigation in desperate times.”

 

“I see.” Nom Anor mused, “I will permit you your new life, slave, in return for your obedience. Do you accept?”

 

Shimrra stopped still for moment then solemnly nodded.

 

“Good.” He finished, then turned to address Quane, “He will be useful. See that he...finishes growing.”

 

Leaving the still confused and fuming Quane lying on the ground, he took off back to the basement. Had been looking more closely, he may have noticed a redness seeping into her hair.

 

* * *

 

A villip is really quite an interesting thing. It's primary use is of course communication with other such tools, but as a living organism, it can be easily manipulated in other ways. For instance, should an activated Villip hear a certain voice, it could then mimic said voice to any words required of it. It was such a villip that Nom Anor, having found one on his yacht immediately after crashing, had been sure to retrieve from his room before continuing to the roof.

 

As he entered the basement, he drew the villip from the inside pocket of his robe where it had been kept, activated it, and quietly whispered something into it's speech receptor.

 

“Quanemlayne Valamercin requests your presence.”

 

The villip spoke in perfect impersonation of Quane, and the computer replied.

 

“Well, Quane! It is no small thing that you have made it this far.” The voice of Revan sounded as before. Nom Anor whispered once again into the villip and it spoke.

 

“I require access to the higher functions of this computer.”

 

“Ask, and I will answer.” The computer replied. This was followed by the loud turning of gears coming from behind one of the walls. After a few moments, a hidden doorway opened amongst the bricks.

 

Nom Anor smiled and slowly made his way to the light filled doorway, eager to see what secrets this place truly contained.

[DarthSion101]

Well done Trex, I love the way you have brought the insidious Nom Anor back into the galaxy. The revival of Shimrra as Anor's pet is a classic irony, especially considering his previous disdain for his executor. I am greatly enjoying this tale, and cannot wait for more. keep up the good work.

[Trex]

Glad to see people are enjoying it. Over a hundred views now, although that's nothing compared to the adventures of Jolee Bindo.

 

Just finished a big bit of work, so will try to update more often than just once a week.

[DarthSion101]

Looking forward to it.

[Trex]

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

It was beautiful. Whatever it was, it was beautiful. Beyond this, Nom Anor only knew one thing. It needed to be activated.

* * *

 

Roompa passed most his time in the Rakata compound, a closed off structure located on the beach down from the temple. The mainstay of his days would normally be taken up by chanting, patrolling the other Rakata, and maintaining the compound. The day had gone most usually did until two hours age when the panicked voice of Quanemlayne yelling for Nom Anor had been heard echoing out from the temple. Everyone of the Rakata had instantly froze, fearing the worst.

 

When the two hours had passed and no consequences had been found, it had been decided that someone should be sent to investigate. This someone of course, being the leader and wisest member of the tribe, was Roompa. He had collected a weapon from storage, an ornamental looking metal blade, and set off hesitantly.

 

Fears left him however, when halfway up to the temple, he came across the Yuuzhan Vong Executor Nom Anor, who smiled and greeted him cheerfully.

 

“Is everything alright, Executor?” he asked, “We all heard Quanemlayne's cry of distress and...”

 

“Do not fret yourself, Roompa”, the Executor replied, wafting his hand as if to dismiss any worries, “Quane is perfectly alright, she merely had a little shock.”

 

“Oh.” Roompa replied, now feeling a little foolish.

 

“I wonder however, Roompa, if you would be interested in assisting me in a little experiment. You see, I've come across something in the basement I can't quite understand.”

 

“What matter of 'thing'?”

 

“It appears indigenous to this planet. Beyond that I cannot tell you much, such technologies are not my area of expertise.”

 

“Hmm. Lead on Executor.”

 

Roompa followed Nom Anor into the basement, curious as to what had been found after so long here. The computer room was exactly as he remembered it from hid occasional investigations at Quane's behest, except there was now a second doorway revealed in the far corner.

 

Nom Anor indicated for him to enter first, which he did without hesitation. The room beyond was like nothing that could be found on the floors above.

 

The walls were lit with a faint blue hue, although without any obvious light source. A short corridor lead to an open room several steps further in, much wider, containing a large computer, and filled entirely with equipment on two walls. Some he recognized immediately. The familiar cylindrical form of a lightsaber popped up several times alongside blaster pistols, rifles and at least twenty large volumes of information in what might have actually been book form.

 

In the corner stood a dummy, five feet in height and adorned with some form of what Roompa thought was a ceremonial outfit, similar to a black robe but with an accompanying black cape hanging off the back with became a hood at the top. The chest section included many clasps to hold down the outfit.

 

Pinned to the wall by it, was a mask which clearly went with the outfit. It was black also, but tinted with a rust-like red under a pitch black visor section where human eyes would have fitted.

 

“This way, my friend.”

 

Roompa had become so fascinated by the newly discovered assortment of objects that he had not noticed the door into the next section. Nom Anor opened it via a large mechanical mechanism. What lay beyond, could only be described as beautiful.

 

The door led directly onto a raised gantry, which in turn led into the center of the room. It stopped when it reaching the only thing of note, and that which held Roompa's gaze. A spherical ball of bright blue energy hovered in the air just off the edge, occasionally unleashing a wisp of light which spiraled around the room, then returned at irregular intervals. He looked at Nom Anor, trying to discover the right words to form a question but not finding any.

 

“Go ahead. Take a look.” The executor suggested.

 

Roompa slowly strode up to the ball of energy. At the edge of the gantry's precipice, it was chest height and should he stretch out his hand, would be within arm's reach.

 

“What is it?” He managed to blurt out.

 

“The computer claims it to be the last remnant of something named the star forge. It also describes it as the crowning apex of the infinite empire. Does that mean anything to you?”

 

“Yes.” the replied, finding all this a little hard to take in, “The infinite empire was governed by the Rakata. The star forge was a weapon of sorts and was believed to have been destroyed by Revan after he reclaimed it from Malak.”

 

“Apparently Revan maintained a small part of it just in case.” Nom Anor observed, leaving a pause before continuing. “The computer also informed me that he undertook a rather extreme measure to ensure that it could never be reactivated. It's source requires the addition of something which Revan must have ensured he maintained a small supply of, and which he assumed could not be found very easily in the future.”

 

Roompa turned to face him, confused. The executor was standing right in front of him.

 

“I am afraid, dear Roompa, that it requires Rakata blood.”

 

Before Roompa could react, Nom Anor had raised his foot and pushed hard into his chest. The chieften fell back, the last thing he could remember being a feeling that every particle on his body was being ripped apart.

 

* * *

 

The reaction was exactly as Nom Anor had intended. The ball of energy consumed Roompa entirely and provoked a full spectrum of colors, each of which spat out it's own separate wisps of light around the room, illuminating the chamber so brightly it was as if standing in a sun.

 

Without warning, a hard thud landed on the back on Nom Anor's head, collapsing him onto the ground. Mildly dazed, he turned back to see Quane standing over him, two unignited saber hilts drawn. Only this was not Quane. The hair had become redder than he had ever seen and her eyes burned with an equally red and fiery intensity more powerful than anything Shimrra had ever possessed. This was Vimack in her entirety.

 

Two things struck him at this point. One, that Quane's full arsenal of weapons were showing and were apparently eight different lightsabers attached to her belt. Secondly, that the reason he could see this, was that she had removed the robe which always adorned her. This could only mean that she was deadly serious about fighting him.

 

“It isn't very nice to strike a friend, Executor.” she rasped deeply in reference to the blow he had delivered on the roof a few hours before.

 

Roompa's metallic blade had been left on the edge of the gantry and was easily in Nom Anor's reach. In one fluent movement, he clutched it in his hand and flipped onto his feet ready to face her. Two glowing red blades were already there to meet him. It was unlikely that he could ever beat her in combat, but this would only be true based on the notion that he would fight fairly.

 

As the waves of multicolored energy swarmed around the room, the two fought. Nom Anor began, swinging his sword loosely towards her, although each blow was effortlessly parried. It was not long before Vimack was smiling at him and confidently blocking even his best attacks with only one hand.

 

Nom Anor was not concerned however as he had a trick up his sleeve. Literally. For those who had experienced such things, it was well known that the hands of the shapers not only contained tools, but very useful weapons for certain occasions. He jerked his free hand, and a long, whip-like organic string shot out. Vimack clearly spotted it, but before she could decide what it was, never mind how to react to it, Nom Anor had whipped it underneath the gantry and entwined it around her feet. They looked each other firmly in the eyes for a single moment, and the Nom Anor pulled. Vimack was thrown off her feet with her weapons flying out of her hands. She hung from the gantry, suspended by the whip like weapon and her enemy poised above her.

 

The energy emanating from the sphere had, amongst other things, come together to form a crackling layer of gaseous light across the floor of the massive room. Whatever it technically was, dropping Vimack into it would definitely result in her death, apparent from the way one of her lightsabers had disintegrated upon impact after leaving her hands. Nom Anor began gently rocking the female back and forth as the wisps of light above crackled against each other with electrical energy.

 

“Not so dissimilar to when we first met, is it 'friend'? Only this time it is not me who has the pleasure of dangling in mid-air.”

 

Vimack let out something resembling a hiss and began throwing her remaining lightsabers in his direction. He easily managed to evade each, but found them returning for second runs at him as Vimack spun them around the chamber with the force. All six suddenly came to a stop, held invisibly and hovering in the air around him, ready to strike. The two were at a stand-off.

 

Deciding if there was technically a way he could still win, Nom Anor heard Vimack laughing, deeply and maliciously.

 

“I wonder, Executor”, she spoke, “If I were to die here, how will Quane ever be able to finish your precious vessel.”

 

Damnation, she was right. Circling through the options, Nom Anor smiled at Vimack, tensed the Plaeryin Bol of his right eye socket and fired an acidic stinger right at her. It would have been the death of an ordinary human, but a force user as strong as her should have been able to survive it. She passed out in less than a second, all six weapons deactivating and falling to the floor, a couple bouncing off the gantry and disintegrating in the energy below.

 

Reluctantly, Nom Anor pulled up the unconscious body and took her off to his room where she could sleep of the venom and recover. Before leaving her there, he admitted a private hope that her hair would be considerably darker when awakening.

[DarthSion101]

Execellent Chapter, the story is definitely a great read, keeps you waiting for more. You truly have captured Nom Anor's essence perfectly.

[Trex]

Apologies for the lack of updates. Bottom line, my laptops broken and i'm having to order new parts. But anyway, after pulling it apart, finding the hard drive, converting it to an external hard drive, reviving an old imac I have and converting all the files to something I can use, I've managed to retrieve the next few chapters. Enjoy...

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

Nom Anor woke on the cold, hard floor of his bedroom wrapped in his robe and using the Ooglith Masquer as a pillow. He had been more exhausted than he had cared to admit after the fight and had fallen asleep not long after. Before succomng to fatigue however, he had been sure to check Quane's progress and found her calm and breathing normally, although still fast asleep.

 

As he turned to the bed to make a further enqiry, he was delighted to find it empty. This meant that she was not only healthy enough to walk, but definitely Quane, as Vimack would undoubtedly have finished him off in his sleep. Redressing himself in the robe, he checked out the balcony to find the workshop outside empty, and so made an educated guess that she would be on the roof.

 

* * *

 

The scene on the roof was cleary one of surreality. Quane had set up a table large enough to seat four and was appartently serving breakfast. Shimrra had finished 'growing' and was seated at the head of the table, glaring into a bowl Quane had just handed him. Unsure as to how the food should be eaten, he began to use him fingers, only to receive a slap on the hand from Quane. Nom Anor had to fight to suppress a laugh as the former supreme overlord stared back and reluctantly began fingering the cuttlery. The ever alive creepers were hovering around and helping out where they could by slicing up the occasional piece of fruit and pouring the occasional drink.

 

With a delibrately emphasized sping in his step, Nom Anor approached the table and took the seat opposite Quane.

 

“Executor Nom Anor of the great Yuuzhan Vong.” She greeted in her usual manner. “Would you care for some juice?”

 

“Thank you,” he replied as one of the creepers poured the refreshment.

 

Shimrra stopped his halfhearted attempts at etiquet to lend a foul stare to him.

 

“How is the former supreme overlord this morning?” he asked, possibly putting a little too much emphasis on the word former. Shimrra merely sneared and returned to his food. This was the best opportunity to examine the sulking creature he had been presented with so far, and he took in as much as he could. The eyes were still as black as ever and presumably would never ragain their former intensity. The decomposition of his skin had not improved and his open scars looked like they had been healed with bark more than flesh. His mighty body had been wrapped in a drab sheet by Quane. Bottom line,in an enrtirely different context, Shimrra was more monstrous than ever.

 

It was now that he turned to Quane. She seemed well enough and apparently compleately ignorant of their recent battle.

 

“Have you seen my lightsabers?” She asked.

 

Nom Anor theorised that although Vimack always seemed very aware of her surroundings, Quane must operate a little differently and only possesed knowledge of her own activities, no doubt resulting in her childlike mentality.

 

“You, erm...left them in the basement. I'll fetch them for you later.”

 

“Thank you,” She replied simply, an honest smile on her face. Nom Anor actually began to feel a little guilt creeping into him, having almost killed her only yesterday. Drinking his drink, he recalled that he also had much more important things to be doing today.

 

* * *

 

Revisiting the secret area deep in the basement, Nom Anor made sure that the first thing he did was collect Quane's weapons. Only five had survived, but he was sure that excuses could be made for the missing three. Quickly dropping them off by Quane's workshop where they could easily be found, he returned to his own, secret, workshop and bolted the door.

 

Fully unlocked thanks to the late Roompa, the computer was much more co-operative today. The energy source in the next room was apparently a small part of what had previously been a much larger power, which was so huge in fact that it had to be contained in an orbiting space station the size of a worldship and named the star forge.

 

This vast fortress was capable of amazing feats, including the mass production of war cruisers and battle droids by somehow manipulating the force. The small power he was now in control of was unlikely to achieve such an impressive task, but something smaller may be possible.

 

Finding no way to really abuse the revealed secrets in his current situation, he resigned himself to wandering the compound for the rest of the day. Finding time to check on Quane, he found that the hull was nearly compleate and even larger than he had anticipated. The head of the vessel was sensibly sized, but Quane had gotten a little carried away with the main section, including in it a main hold, a cargo area, two sets of dormatories, an extra storage area and an engine room. Nom Anor made the mistake of pointing out that they would not need that many, to which Quane replied that he had still not said where they would be going.

 

The last comment had gotten him thinking. He really didn't have an idea where to go.

 

Frustrated, he once again ended up sleeping merely to pass the time.

 

* * *

 

It came to him in a dream and awoke him with a start. Nom Anor sat bold upright for a full minute staring at the wall.

 

He dashed down the stairs and was standing in the secret chamber in a matter of moments. If this thing was, in essance, a raw embodiment of the force itself, then whatever it touched, it did so with the force. This was presumably the reason Roompa's reaction to it was so volitile.

 

But what if somewhing touched it which was not a part of the force. Something Yuuzhan Vong.

 

Taking a deep breath and standing atop the gantry, Nom Anor looked squarely into the floating ball, and charged...

 

...then stopped. He had long come to terms with fact that the he was essentially a coward, but every time he had to confront the fact, it always killed him a little inside. Reconsidering his plan, he left briefly to retrive something from his room and returned with his Ooglith Masquer. Feeling a little more confident in this alternative, he tossed it in.

 

A shockwave of raw energy sent him flying back across the room, followed almost instantly by another as the Masquer was spat back out at him. Nom Anor assumed that his little experiment had failed until, against the odds, the Masquer seemed to shimmer, subtley and silently. Wasting no time, he slipped it on, tearing away the head piece so that his own face was showing. Fully dressed, he turned to face the equipment wall.

 

Ooglith Maquers were like no normal item of clothing. The tendrals which connected it to his own skin almost made it part of him. If this Masquer was imbued with the force...

 

He lifted his right, natural hand toward a lightsaber resting on the middle shelf and focused intently on making it move. Nothing happened. There was presumably some train of though required to spark the ability off, and it was also presumably something only the Jedi and Sith knew.

 

For an insumountable amount of time, Nom Anor simply stood there, raising and lowering his hand, trying different techniques, mental and physical, and all to no avail. The weapon simply refused to budge.

 

Exhausted and at the end of his tether, he wandered aimlessly towards the power source and moved his eyes over it. In one last surge and act of despiration, he cried out loud, spun around and streched his arm out towards the saber, tensing each muscle as hard as he could.

 

The weapon shot across the room with lightning speed and settled firmly into his hand. He instantly ignited it, allowing the red glow to menacingly light his face.

[DarthSion101]

Nom Anor with the force.......what a delightfully terrifying thought. The tale keeps getting better Trex.

[Trex]

Thanks, DarthSion101. I was a little worried that an ooglith masquer embeded with the force might not come off as plausible, but if it's ok by you it's ok by me.

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

It was one thing to posess the ability of telekinesis, but Nom Anor knew well that there were much more useful traits of the force which could be weilded. These were of course those of the lightsaber. He had never fully understood how the attacks of a physical weapon could be connected to such an ethereal power source, but luckily there was one who not only knew such things, but would be more than willing to tell him.

 

As he approached Quane's outdoor workshop, it became clear that the vessel was nearing compleation. It was also clear that she had chosen a design emphasising heavily on the dramatics. Six massive wings, three a side, stretched over earth for twenty meters in each direction, curving around subtly to the front of the ship as if talons of a clawed hand. The box shaped main hold was sensible enough, in sharp contrast with a spherical head connected to the front. Streching out from the cockpit like mandibles were two more claws, long and spindly.

 

Quane came over to meet him as soon as he was spotted.

 

"Finished?" he asked simply.

 

"Don't be silly," she replied, as if the complex workings of what she was doing was a common piece of knowledge to even the most absent minded youngling. "The hull's fine, but it's a bit pointless if it can't fly."

 

Nom Anor recalled now that some form of propulsion system was required. He turned to point towards the massive, half submerged cruiser jutting out at the ocean in the distance.

 

"From that?"

 

"I...would not suggest it." she continued, surprisingly knowledgable and articulate today. "First of all, that thing is at least four thousand years old. Second of all, you can't walk on water."

 

He was about to answer with 'not yet', but then realised the need for some level of secrecy concerning his recent experiments. He also at this point remembered why he had come here.

 

"Quane, my friend. I was wondering if you would be willing to educate me..." he began, delibrately trailing off a little for emphasis, "...in the ways of the force."

 

"I thought the great Yuuzhan Vong could not use the force."

 

Nom Anor was unsure whether or not had he actually mentioned this or if it was another of the traits from Quane's mysterious telepathic affinity with the planet. Either way, it was the type of thing which could be always be diminished with an ego satisfying compliment.

 

"No Yuuhzan Vong as yet have had you to teach them."

 

Quane mulled over this line with an innocent smirk then nodded.

 

"There was one ship which crashed here not so long ago. Well I say 'not so long ago', I think it was about fifty years past. But anyway, if any ship around here can get us engines for this thing, it's that one. It ended up about fourty miles south of here."

 

The week before, when he had climbed a nearby mountain in the then desperate hope of finding an escape from this planet, Nom Anor had spotted something which could have passed for a ship. Large and grey, he had thought it pile of debris, then quickly dismissed it.

 

"I'm sure we can combine your training with a little excursion." She finished, smiling and awaiting his approving reply. He smiled back as honestly as he could, then began making his way back indoors, hearing one last thing from Quane.

 

"Be ready to leave in one hour! No time like the present!"

 

* * *

 

The party were in fact underway in less than an hour. Nom Anor had equiped his now force powering ooglith masquer, his robe, and two lightsabers from storage in the basement, one red and one blue. He would have to find some way of slipping a query into conversation with Quane about who they might actually belong to.

 

Quane herself was as fully adorned as usual. Her remaining five weapons holstered onto her belt beneath the long flowing black robe.

 

Shimrra of course had joined them as well. Abusing his former master's new found low statis in the world, the executor had taken to abusing the fallen lord's massive build by insisting he carry as much equpment as possible. No, not insisted. Commanded. He did not have the need to politely request anything of the creature anymore. Said equipment included food, weaponry should it be required, and one of Quane's creeper plants she refused to leave without.

 

Thanks to Quane, they were also acompanied by an entourage of twelve Rakata, their ultimate purpose being to tansport what would presumably be a huge hulk of metal engine back to the temple. They were jumpier around the two strangers than normal due in large part to the still unexplained disappearance of their tribe leader Roompa. As long as they still obeyed Quane though, Nom Anor did not forsee any problems.

 

As the group marched on over the landscape, Nom Anor was delighted to hear the heavy panting of Shimrra from behind. The weight of the equipment he carried was finally beginning to strain and shorten his stride. This of course was not particularily noticable considering that merely one of Shimrra's strides were the equivalent of three from the executor, but out of principal it brought an inner smile.

 

"So, where does this new found interest in the force come from?" Quane asked, popping up on the left.

 

"It is the lightsaber which intrigues me the most." he answered, still trying to remain as vague as plausible whilst gaining as much knowledge possible.

 

"Ah. A Jedi tool and a Sith weapon. Why?"

 

"To protect my friends of course." he retorted, turning to smile in a hope to change the line of inquiry.

 

"Hey, I can fight."

 

"So I've seen. I wonder, Quane, did you acquire the knowledge and skill to do so...on Korriban?"

 

There was the smallest break in stride from Quane. The type one would only spot if looking intently. It was enough however, to let Nom Anor know he had touched a nerve.

 

"No, Coruscant." she replied, turning to smile politely then vering off path to a nearby vantage point in order to analyse the path ahead. Nom Anor was satisfied enough with the knowledge of what to bring up should he ever wish to end the conversation abruptly again.

 

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, they did not reach their location that day. Neither did they the next. It was in sight when they set to sleep the second night however, and Nom Anor felt satisfied that they would reach the ship the following day.

 

In the morning, Quane took off early with two Rakata to scout ahead, leaving Nom Anor to lead the remainder steadily on.

 

The ship itself was lodged in a huge crater which concealed the lower half of the vessel. Now that he was close enough to reasonably see it, Nom Anor abserved that it was in fact a form of blue-grey in colour, and very long, almost cylindrical. The engines themselves were located to the rear and therefore, rather annoyingly, located a good two hundred meters above ground level.

 

As the group came to a stop near the base of the crater's rim and Nom Anor began pondering over how they would ever be able to remove the propulsion system, Quane came bounding down from the raised edge. A look between fear and confusion was on her face.

 

"What is it?" he asked.

 

"I...I don't know."

 

She lead the executor to the edge to see for himself.

 

There were thousands, marching back and forth in rehearesed drills of military style disappline. Nom Anor knew what they were well enough. He had seen the holovids of the clone wars as part of this galaxy's analysis.

 

And there were thousands of them. Thousands of battle droids.

[DarthSion101]

The tale just keeps getting better. Another nice little twist, and the abuse of shimrra is right in line with Nom's personality type. Can't wait for more.

[Trex]

CHAPTER TEN

 

The crater itself was spread just under half a mile, and bore the resemblemce of a roughly assembled factory floor. The droids had constructed everything necessary for a compleately self sufficient existence. Power units which looked as though they functioned by absorbing energy from the sun above were littered around the rim and connected directly to repair stations in the centre.

 

The yellow-brown droids themselves marched back and forth in their synchronized drills, weaving in and out of each other with timing that only an automated being was capable of.

 

Nom Anor and Quane had been watching silently for twenty minutes before either spoke up. As it turned out, it was Quane who broke the quiet.

 

"What are they?", she asked, being careful to lower her voice.

 

"Battle droids. Decades ago, there was a great war in this galaxy. Rebel separatists amassed an army of millions of these things and attempted to overthrow the senate."

 

"Did they manage it?"

 

"No. They were beaten back by an equally massive army of clones the republic had kept in hiding until the time was right. Of course, those such as myself who thrive on the hidden truths of the galaxy know that there was much more to it. The war was orchestrated by a Sith Lord named Sidious and the droids lead by his own apprentice, Lord Tyranus. It was a plot to both convert the galaxy to a dependence on Sidious and his clone army and simultaneously wipe out the Jedi."

 

"This Sidious. Was he killed about twenty five years ago?"

 

Nom Anor turned to her.

 

"Yes. How do you know that?"

 

"The death of a Sith Lord that powerful can even be felt on this lonely planet."

 

Considering these various thoughts, the two turned back to the droid army.

 

"Do you think they might notice if we just took the engines?" Quane half jokingly enquired.

 

"I think they would not only notice, but probably try to kill us when they did. Battle droids are known to be uptight like that. Our only chances lie with destroying them or shutting them down."

 

"How do you do the second one?"

 

"Shut them down? There's probably a console for it on the bridge of the ship."

 

"Which is..?"

 

Nom Anor had never seen this exact style of ship before, but he was hardly an expert. The only ones he had observed were white with two winged docking bays around a orb shaped command section. A quick analysis told him that the bridge was most likely the windowed platform near the stern, right by the most wrecked parts of the vessel.

 

"Near the front I think. That still leaves us with several battalions to fight through though."

 

"What if we sneak in through the rear? A small group could creep up and disable them before anyone was the wiser."

 

"Not unless your Force abilities can levitate us the height of a small mountain."

 

"That wasn't what I had in mind."

 

She took off back down the bank and began rummaging through Shimrra's equipment pack. After a few moments, she unveiled the creeper plant she'd insisted they bring. After a few moments more, everything was decided.

 

The plant could be coaxed into growing rapidly at Quane's command, to the point where it could stretch into an open shaft near the raised bow. It was therefore possible to manipulate it's vines as rope and climb up without anyone noticing. A small team would infiltrate, make their way quietly to the front of the ship, then access the droid controller console on the bridge. This small team would of course be Quane, Shimrra, and Nom Anor.

 

* * *

 

The executor was first to enter the ship, and the first to find it blissfully empty. The open, wrecked vent led into what appeared to be an engineering station.

 

Quane followed almost immediately after and stood by him. Nom Anor also noted this as the first time the two had stood side by side with their weapons drawn. It seemed as good a time as any to begin his training.

 

"So, friend. Teach."

 

Quane seemed to pass a few options through her mind then continued.

 

"O-a-kay-key. Ignite the blade."

 

He did so, as it turned out with the blue tinted of the two weapons, then stood eargerly awaiting the next instruction.

 

"It is diffucult to describe the correct way to effectively use a lightsaber. There are of course things such as stance and form which you can use and abuse, but this is not where the true abilities of the weapon lie. I would say that it is more a part of surrendering yourself, just a small part, over to the force itself. Allow it to instruct you more than, say, your sight and reflexes. Then, I suspect, you will find the skills you long for."

 

Thinking deeply, Nom Anor took this lesson to heart. Shimrra had just managed to clamber in through the small vent, no small feat for one his size, and was ready to continue.

 

Without any discussion, Nom Anor immediately fell into role as leader and moved out into the corridor. It was here that they gained their first encounter.

 

A group of twenty or so battle droids were patrolling down the concourse, their backs turned toward the team, having just passed by the door. Nom Anor was grateful that his fighting skills would not have to be tested just yet. Quane though, looked a little disappointed.

 

A loud thud later however, and tensions suddenly shot up.

 

Shooting a glance to the doorway, he found Shimrra, unused to ships unaccommodating to his height, gripping his forhead having just banged it on the frame. Quane and himself both instantly looked back at the droids to see the rear guard stop in it's tracks and slowly turn to see them.

 

Not a blaster shot was fired as Quane had already leapt through the air with Force fueled speed and cleaved the droid in two. The others stopped in their tracks, turned to face her, and chaos ensued.

 

Shimrra, armed with a pair of Rakata blades, charged down the corridor after her with a deafening war cry. His assistance was barely required however, as Quane was effortlessly plowing through droid after droid, a whirling blur of red and black. Rather than pointlessly risk his life, Nom Anor stood back and let them get on with it.

 

At least this was his intention until a high pitched electronic voice piped up behind him.

 

"Halt. Identify."

 

Spinning quickly on one foot, he came face to face with two battle droids, both lining him up into their blaster sights. Without considering the fact that he may have been able to bluff his way by them until Quane could come to his aid, he powered up his weapon.

 

The Droids began firing instantly. Working off blind faith, Nom Anor tried swinging his blade around to intercept the shots. Not a single one was blocked, but luckily not a single one managed to hit him either. This particular make of droid was apparently not renowned for it's precision aiming.

 

After a few more seconds, it became clear that Nom Anor could not last this way forever. The intensity of the battle then served a very useful purpose by sparking off the memory of his first force use and what had encouraged it.

 

Summoning as much anger as a Yuuzhan Vong possibly could, he shrieked and charged. Three blaster bolts were deflected with powered accuracy and before a forth could be fired, a low height spin from the executor left four halves of battle droids singeing on the ground.

 

Grinning with pride, he turned back to see Quane grinning back in response to him. The look upon Shimrra's face however, he could not explain. It merely stared at him, as cold and lifelessly as it had been previously. Without uttering a single word, they continued.

 

After endlessly wandering down the various different corridors for an unknown amount of time, the group eventually came across a second patrol. The three of them, prepared and in control this time, had no trouble dispensing with the group, but unfortunately also triggered the ship's main alarm in the process. This was followed therefore by an extremely hastened sprint to reach the bridge before the entire army came bearing down on them.

 

The bridge, Nom Anor thought, was surprisingly small for such a large vessel. This did not mean that it was unguarded though. An elderly Neimoidian sat atop a raised chair in the center of the room, surrounded by four droids the make of which he had never seen before. Tall and thin, they wore a cloack hung loosely off one shoulder and held a staff-like weapon, buzzing with electrical energy at either end. The menacing angular heads glared at the group with glowing red receptors.

 

At the command of the Neimoidian, the droids marched towards them. Quane sprung forward with her Jedi reflexes, and sent the first flying across the room with a blaze of lightning energy shot from her finger tips. Having never witnessed such a lethal power before, Nom Anor made a quick mental note to ask how it was done when the mission was all over. It was now three verses three.

 

The brute strength of Shimrra was not something his opponent was expecting. The former supreme overlord dropped both his blades and simply grasped the staff in his overpowering iron grip. Energy shot sparking up his arm but refused to fell him. Confused, the droid turned to analyze his face, only to find Shimrra menacingly staring back at him with an evil satisfaction. Using the full force of his free hand, he smashed it straight into the guard's head and pulled out what passed for it's brain. Despite this, the droid still refused to die to which Shimrra simply picked up what was left of it and threw it against the wall with the full weight of his upper torso. It finally died in a heap of debris in the corner.

 

For Quane, this enemy presented very little of a challenge. It was a little more wiry than she was used to, but it did not take long before it rested in several sparking pieces across a nearby console.

 

This therefore only left Nom Anor. He managed to block his enemy's attacks without too much distress, but found himself with little chance of winning. Theorizing that Quane's dual blade fighting style may have been what had given her an edge, he whipped the second lightsaber off his belt and added it's red glowing energy to his defense. It made little difference apart from to force the fight into a standstill with both Nom Anor's weapons bracing against the droid's downwards strike.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Quane reach out her hand toward him. The only reaction to this movement was the twitching of a second switch on his red saber's hilt. A second blade shot out the opposite end and struck the guard squarely in the chest, causing it's movements to spatter wildly for a few seconds, then collapse.

 

Nom Anor studied the double bladed weapon for a few moments, then shut it down and turned to the Neimoidian.

 

"The droids. How are they shut down?" he asked.

 

The Neimoidian refused to answer. Quane shook her head and turned to one of the consoles.

 

"Doesn't matter. I'll figure it out."

 

She did so very quickly. So fast in fact that not a single one of the outside droids were able to make it to bridge in time to even resist.

 

Taking a moment of rest and a deep sharp breath, she added, "Well, I guess I'll see about the engines." then took off, leaving only Nom Anor, Shimrra and the Neimoidian commander. The elderly alien began jabbering on incomprehensibly, half due to the foreign tongue, half due to senility. Sparing him a glance, Nom Anor tossed the blue lightsaber into the creature's lap, having decided on the other as his prefered weapon of choice. The commander fingered it, confused and curious.

 

Beckoning Shimrra into step behind him with a click of his fingers, the evermore learning executor left in pursuit of his female teacher. As the bridge doors closed behind him, a Force manipulating wave of his hand was followed immediately by the snap-hiss of an igniting lightsaber and the last yell of an alien in extreme pain.

 

Shimrra suddenly stopped mid-stride. Turning back to address the matter, Nom Anor found him with the same look on his face as before, cold and lifeless. It was then that he understood what it was that held the fallen Yuuzhan Vong so.

 

It was fear, and the executor liked it.

[Trex]

Hooray, two hundred views! Anyway, here's the end of act one...

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

"Five...four...three..two...one.!"

 

As soon as Quane finished the countdown, the eager Rakata to her side flicked the switch and dived for cover. A few milisecs later, the charges blew, splitting the droid vessel down the middle and sending it's raised rear slowing crashing to soil. Nom Anor was more than a little concerned that this rather direct way of retrieving the ship's engines would result in more harm than help, but the human seemed to know what she was doing.

 

Not long later, the Rakata were hauling along two of the smaller engines on a roughly constructed cart, mainly pieced together with other parts of the ship. Shimrra had been entrusted with transporting a pilot's console and a large amount of miscellaneous wiring, which he hauled along on his own cart at a speed which made the Rakatas feel ashamed.

 

* * *

 

 

Predictably, it took longer to return than arrive, but the group did return to the temple the third night and found it exactly as it had been left. Quane, adhering to the idea that she did not in fact require sleep, immediately set to work assembling the remaining parts of the ship.

 

As the rest of the party dispersed to their various places of rest, Nom Anor, finding himself only very mildly fatigued journeyed down to the beach where the Rakatas had lit their usual nighttime pyre, but chosen to let it burn out as they left for bed. For the next few hours, he occupied himself with rehearsals of various fighting stances and attacks with his new weapon. Although it was clearly meant to be wielded with both blades active, he found it easier and more practical to only use one and keep the other in reserve as a nasty surprise.

 

A snapping of loose wood from the darkness to his side suddenly grabbed his attention, to which he reacted by readying his saber.

 

"Declare yourself!" He yelled into the night.

 

Slowly and solemnly, the form of Shimrra stepped forward in the fire light.

 

"What do you want, slave?"

 

"I am no fool," he began, "I see many things the peoples of this world do not. I see your abuse of Quanemlayne through her child like ignorance. I see the explanations as to what has probably befallen the missing Rakata chieftain. I also see the Ooglith masqeur you have worn ever since your new found Force abilities have shown themselves. Yes, executor, I believe that these cold dead eyes see more than the extravagant live ones ever did."

 

Nom Anor suddenly realized that a sudden increase in his pulse had resulted in him holding his breath. Shimrra grinned before continuing.

 

"I must tell you however, executor, that these things do not actually concern me. This is because I have finally realized what it is we must do."

 

"'We'?"

 

"It is clear to even Quane that you have no grand plan beyond escape of this world. By now, the Yuuzhan Vong will have been completely quashed and conquered. Our people will be shunned and, most likely, either executed or pursued wherever they end up. There is nowhere for us to go, let alone a purpose for us to serve."

 

"And what is it you suggest?"

 

"In our present state and condition, the absolute domination of the Yuuhzan Vong is, alas, no longer a realistic option. But there are still tasks we may accomplish for our brethren, both alive and fallen."

 

"Speak your mind Shimrra, I am beginning to loose patience."

 

"We must destroy those who have destroyed us. I wish to bring pain to those who have pained me. I wish fear for those who no longer fear me. I wish death to those who have brought it to me..."

 

Shimrra looked directly into Nom Anor's eyes.

 

"I wish to kill Luke Skywalker!"

 

The two stood silently staring each other, considering the proposal's plausibility.

 

"That would be no small task, Shimrra. Neither would it be one I could have any conviction towards. Why would I wish to needlessly kill a Jedi?"

 

"Perhaps not this one, no, but I am very aware of another. A kin of this Jeedai master whom has been more responsible for your humiliation and disgrace than any other save Vergere."

 

Nom Anor knew full well whom Shimrra was referring to. Jacen Solo had been an extremely unpleasant thorn is his side for far too long. From the moment he interfered with the Praetorite Vong's first wave, followed by the humiliating duel with Tsavong Lah, through to his slaughter of the Voxyn queen, his escape with Vergere for which the blame fell squarely with him, and a pivotal part in the battle of Ebaq nine. Yes, there were more than a few things which could be blamed on young Jacen Solo.

 

"I will...consider this." He decided.

 

"It has also occurred to me, executor, that should we be venturing into any populated systems, one form or another of disguise may be necessary."

 

The executor nodded slowly in agreement and the two fell silent as the last flickers of light left the fire.

 

* * *

 

 

By morning, Nom Anor had decided exactly what had to be done.

 

The first formal task was to finally deactivate the planet's disrupter field. This was very easily accomplished via the underground secret computer console in a matter of minutes.

 

Satisfied that his presence was no longer genuinely required at the temple, he collected the dark ceremonial outfit stored in the basement, along with the corresponding black and red mask, placed it in a container, then proceeded outside.

 

Quane was of course working on the ship and therefore very easy to find. After a quick query with Quane, he discovered that the integration of this particular set of engines was going to take a while. Possibly even a week. He enigmatically replied that would be more than enough time, then left with his container through the southern end of the temple complex.

 

* * *

 

 

Quanemlayne Valamercin prided herself on her work. Whether it be tending to her plants or constructing a lightspeed capable vessel. Either way she didn't stop until she had what was required. It did in fact take the full week until the ship was brought up to what she deemed was necessary.

 

Mid-morning on the final day and the creepers were assisting in placing the final touches when, inexplicably, something startled them. It was nothing Quane could sense through any of her conventional ways, but clearly nothing she could ignore. As the startled plants waved around and fear took some recognizable form, she realized that it was in fact the vibrations of quaking earth causing the distress. Focusing on the their fear, she began to sense that the source was in fact coming from the south.

 

She managed to persuade two of the creepers to hoist her up to the highest point of the temple's roof, where she was placed with full view of the approaching horror.

 

At first, she thought it may have truly been her former master, returning after all these years to deliver the answers she had never found. But no. Each person had their own personal presence in the Force, and this was recognizable as someone she had met much more recently.

 

Nom Anor strode confidently towards the temple, clad in the full dress uniform of Darth Revan, from cape to mask. Behind, thundering the ground in synchronized march, were three thousand combat ready battle droids.

 

In one huge force and plant assisted leap, Quane jumped from the temple and landed on the ground before Nom Anor.

 

"What is this?" she asked, "What are you doing?"

 

She paused and the rephrased the question more knowingly.

 

"What are

we

doing?"

 

"We, my friend?" Nom Anor rasped from behind the mask. "We...are going to hunt Jedi!"

[DarthSion101]

This Fic just keeps getting better. Nom Anor is on a full power trip now, especially with his new Darth Revan guise. How delightfully evil. The increased involvement of Shimrra is most plot satisfying as well, I cannot wait for more. Congrats on the passing the 200 view mark. Kepp em coming

[Trex]

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

Nar Shaddaa had changed surprisingly little since Nom Anor's last visit. Before the Yuuzhan Vong's foray into this galaxy, it had been very easy to compare the place to Coruscant, although one clearly the poorer and less well respected of the two. It was therefore quite surprising that, unlike it's cousin, Nar Shaddaa had remained fairly unchanged. Presumably, the Yuuzhan Vong had had every intention of 'cleansing' it eventually, but found themselves a little too preoccupied with the insurgence of the Galactic Alliance.

 

The ship had preformed admirably and in fact carried them halfway accross the galaxy with little to no trouble. Quane had wanted to name it the Dark Eagle, to which Nom Anor had stepped in and named it the

Avenging

Eagle.

 

Quane had managed to join the engines perfectly as two massive drives nested between the upper two wings on ever side of the six wing frame. Anything available from surrounding wrecked vessels had been hastily added on top. The magama spitting weapons of the royal yacht had been repaired and, alongside blaster turrets and proton torpedo launchers scavenged from the droid vessel, had been added to the vessel's lethality. Needless to say, the cargo hold also now held two hundred combat ready battle droids, currently in standby mode, but ready to fight at a word into the Executor's comlink.

 

The Avenging Eagle glided swiftly through the towering summits of the capital, smoothly navigating the difficult turns and landing effortlessly on a jutting platform located rather periously on the edge of a skyscraper. The ship, roughly the size of an average freighter, just managed to fit in place and let out a deep breath of exhaust in relief.

 

As the landing ramp lowered, Nom Anor was quick to make sure he was first off the ship. Clad in his imposing disguise, he took a moment to gaze at the scenery. This was the first planet they had visited since leaving the Rakata world.

 

It had now been six weeks since the battle over Yuuzhan'Tar, and everything seemed back to normal already. This was no real surprise considering the financial nature of the planet. Those who revolved so much around money and were denied it were always the quickest to reaquire it.

 

Coughing and spluttering from behind caught his ear. Quane had just left the ship and breathed her first polluted air in four thousand years. Smirking behind the mask he turned next to Shimrra standing beside her. The monstrous being had covered his entire body, in a cloth wrap made mainly out of bedsheets. If lucky, any encounters would mearly assume he had a grusome disfigurement and feel pity rather than fear. The eyes were still on show however, and staring towards the platfom's exit.

 

"Hey, you! You there!"

 

Nom Anor turned back to see one of those curious creatures named Toydarians hovering towards him.

 

"What d'you think you're doing landing that thing there?" It asked.

 

"Is there some problem?" The Executor replied, delibrately sounding as unfazed as possible.

 

"Oh, no problem. I don't care who uses my landing pads." It continued, implying sarcasm and apparently trying to get a rise out of the party, "So long as they pay the landing fee. And you, err, haven't"

 

This was the first time Nom Anor noticed that none of them in fact possesed any money.

 

"Ahh." The Toydarian voiced with clear false sympathy, "You don't a have any. Well, how about I take a the droid."

 

The droid, Vrook, had momentarily come to the ship's exit to investigate the commotion. Turning to Quane for an answer was met by her vigoruosly shaking her head.

 

"I'm afraid not. The droid will be staying."

 

"Well unless you a have something else to be offering..."

 

The normal person would probably have ran the various items avaliable on the ship through their heads in an attempt to appease the strange alien. Nom Anor however, simply stood there staring at it.

 

Moving silently and making sure to pull his full height into view, Shimrra moved into place by his 'masters' side. The Toydarian took this personally and as a threat.

 

"Look." It yelled. At least as loud as a Toydarian could yell. "I've a owned and run these landing pads for fourty five years. My grandfather before me ran it for eighty seven years.

His

father for ninety six years.

His

father..."

 

As the Toydarian continued to recite a never ending list of how many of his ancestors before him hand previously held the job, Nom Anor continued to simply stare. Although they of course possessed the ability to fly, the species did have their limits and were only able to gather a moderate height and speed.

 

Casually reaching out his hand, the Executor began to form an invisable grip around the creature's throat. It, thankfully, put an end to the never ending speech. Using only the slightest effort, Nom Anor guided the Toydarian to the left and beyond the edge of the platform. With the being still grasping for air, the grip was released.

 

"What d'you think..."

 

The words trailed off as the unfortunate soul plummeted to the lowest depths of the planet.

 

"Will he be...okay?" Quane innocently asked

 

"He has wings. I'm sure he'll be find." Nom Anor lied, finally taking off to the more popluated section of the area.

 

* * *

 

During his time negotiating with Borga the Hutt under the alias of Pedric Cuf, Nom Anor had been given many gifts, intended to have been transported to Tsavong Lah with the idea of easing the talks. Unsurprisingly, not all of these gifts had necessarily made it all the way to the Warmaster. One of these were able to simply be commited to memory, being as it was, the frequency of a long range comlink.

 

This particular frequency he had been told, could be named the ultimate source of information should it be required. Having contacted said frequency using a secondered trade federation transmitter, he had then been requested to meet the contact in a bar colorfully named named 'The Pazzak N'Zap', on the infamous smuggler's moon.

 

The bar itself was everything he could hope for, crammed with such a diversity of life that the three misfits would blend straight in without question. Taking a booth in the darkest corner avaliable, Nom Anor and Shimrra sat. Quane, eager to meet as many people as possible after her long term in isolation, visited the bar instead.

 

"Do you...have any juice?" She asked.

 

The Devaronian bartender looked at her.

 

"Juma juice?"

 

"What's a 'Juma'?"

 

"You want a drink or not?"

 

"Okay, one Juma Juice."

 

The drink was served and Quane payed. Nom Anor had been under the impression that the group were completely broke and would make it one of his first priorities to discover the source of the woman's funds.

 

After waiting only a few minutes, what must have been their contact party entered. They were a tough looking band of twenty mercenaries ; Humans, Trandoshans, Gamorreans, Rodians, Aqualish, and even a Sullustan. One of them, the Trandoshan, held a quick inquiry with the bartender, followed by many a gaze and gesture in Nom Anor's direction. A few glances and nods between the rest of the group moved ended with them moving to the booth.

 

Refusing to be intimidated, Nom Anor sat rigidly still as the group took up positions around him. Two of the Rodians turned to each other then parted to allow forward what must have been their leader, not least because he actually took the seat opposite and seemed to address Nom Anor personally.

 

He was fairly tall and clad in Mandalorian armour, up to and including a visored helmet. By his side hung an imposing blaster rifle, on his back was placed a jetpack, and on each wrist were barely concealed weapon launchers. With any luck, what they fired would remain a mystery.

 

Speaking in a rough accented, deep voice, he began the talks.

 

"So what can I do for you?"

 

Nom Anor spared a quick glance around the rest of the party before continuing.

 

"I hear you traffic information."

 

"Amongst other things." The Mandalorian replied, followed by a few half concealed laughs from a few of the mercenaries.

 

"Hurry up and tell me what it is you're after. My time ain't cheap."

 

"I have a need to find...the Jedi base."

 

The bar fell silent. It was apparently one of those places where everyone was merely pretending to ignore you.

 

The Mandalorian leaned in closer.

 

"Well, if you're serious, I know another guy who can get you in with them."

 

"If I merely wanted to speak with Talon Karrde, I would have booked an appointment with his secretary. No, I'm afraid my request is rather dependent on the Jedi not being aware that I posses this information."

 

"Huh. Is that right? You're not planning on killing any of them, are you?"

 

"Maybe he's the new babysitter for Skywalker's brat!" One of the mercs piped up, followed by a few more laughs.

 

"What's with the mask?" The leader continued.

 

"What's with the helmet?"

 

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

 

Before Nom Anor could think up an effective response, the Aqualish behind him delivered a sharp blow to the back of his head. It wasn't enough to hurt, but more than enough to send his mask onto the table.

 

The Mandalorian leader looked at him in full Yuuzhan Vong visage and a second later, they'd both drawn weapons under the table.

[DarthSion101]

Very good, nice little standoff going on. Can't wait for more. Keep up the good work, IMO this is one of the best fics on the site.

[Trex]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

The bar was silent. Not a single breath, let alone words, could be heard.

The two leaders, Nom Anor and the Mandalorian had still not moved.

 

It was difficult to say how it would turn out if the Executor, having drawn his saber as opposed to a blaster, were to make the first move. It would be, alas, probably an even chance of either actually managing to kill the other. Judging by the lack of the Mandalorians movement, he was also aware of this.

 

Instead, it was Shimrra who made the first move, rising and pulling up the full length of his back to straighten his body to maximum height.

 

"What's that, a Wookie?" One of the Rodians asked.

 

In response, Shimrra untied the small knot to the side of head to reveal the true face beneath. Many of the mercenaries actually took a step back and re-aimed their weapons at him instead. Nom Anor had no idea what the former overlord was trying to accomplish, but the distraction did manage to spare him a moment to retrieve something from the folds of his robe.

 

"Il manap de ghoouizsha ghooshana." Nom Anor spoke, loudly and concisely to his opponent.

 

"What?"

 

"Oh, my apologies. I was speeking in Yuuzhan Vong." He lied, knowing full well the Rakata words. "I was merely wondering where you saw this situation going."

 

The Mandalorian did have an answer, but Nom Anor had already stopped listening. His eyes now turned to Quane, still at the bar, rigid, and facing away. The mercs must have assumed that she was not a part of the group. If only he could keep them occupied for a minute longer...

 

"Ar bid a bid a!"

 

Something had spooked the Sullustan. Jabbering and pointing in it's native tongue, it had seen Nom Anor's comlink under the table. Damn the species' small height.

 

The Trandoshan, although still being careful not to interfere with the two weapon stand off under the table, grabbed Nom Anor's left hand and displayed the clutched communicator to all.

 

"And who's on the other end of that then? One of you friends?"

 

"Actually I hate him", Nom Anor replied in a moment of rare honesty. "But he does have his uses."

 

The Mandalorian sniggered and took the comlink himself. Preparing to speak into the device, he first turned to the other.

 

"What's his name, Vong?"

 

"His name?" He replied, still stalling for time. "Vrook."

 

Right on cue, the main entrance opened followed by the arrival of twenty battle droids. The mercs turned immediately and opened fire, the droids attacking in turn.

 

Likewise on the cue, Quane raised her left hand and reached out with the Force. The bartender had to duck as every single bottle of Juma Juice came flying off the shelf, smashing over the bar and floor. With a quick spin and even quicker draw, her weapon was equipped and ignited into the flammable liquid. The bar was sent ablaze with every mercenary and customer either dead or panicking.

 

Finding the Mandalorian momentarily facing away, Nom Anor aimed his false eye towards the man's trigger arm and fired a stinger. It was not expected that such a weapon could pierce the armor, but it did send it limp. Now with more favorable odds, he activated his weapon. Slicing straight through the table, he aimed for the enemy.

 

The Mandalorian had clearly been in similar, possibly even more intense situations before, and was already ducking out of the way. The most the lightsaber could do was scratch the left arm before he got away.

 

Rolling to safety a few metres from the table, he looked around to see what was left of his group dead or fighting hopelessly against the invading droids. To his right was Nom Anor with one lightsaber, and to his left was Quane with two.

 

Muttering something under his breath, he turned away towards the wall, raised his wrist launcher, and fired a rocket. A hole the size a coralskipper could fit through was breached and with no further ceremony, the Mandalorian activated his jetpack and escaped.

 

Seeing that the remaining mercs might actually repel the twenty or so droids, Nom Anor signaled the other two to withdraw back to the ship although not before retrieving his mask.

 

Leaving the bar to burn and the remaining people and droids to finish killing each other, they returned to the landing pad, only to find the Mandalorian far from done with them. Still using his jetpack, he swooped in with blaster rifle firing, his stung arm now recovered.

 

"Prep the ship!" Nom Anor yelled, re-igniting his weapon and turning to face him.

 

As the other two entered the vessel, the merc leader landed heavily on the platform and faced the Executor.

 

"What are you, Vong? It's not like you lot to be wielding a Jedi weapon."

 

"One of a kind Mandalorian, one of a kind."

 

He seemed to snigger yet again, then unlatch a small container from his belt. Before Nom Anor could even identify it as a detpack, he had already flown back into the air and blown it.

 

The whole platform came away, sending the ship spiraling downwards, Executor with it. Quick as he could, Nom Anor flexed his eight fingered shaper hand and shot out it's whip-like appendage, wrapping the end around one of the ship's protruding spikes.

 

Level after level of the surrounding skyscrapers shot past as the planet's surface came closer, closer and closer.

 

After plummeting three miles down, the Avenging Eagle's engines eventually kicked in and the ship leveled off with hard jolt.

 

Still suspended by his whip attachment, Nom Anor twisted around to see a family of Nubians looking at him through their nearby apartment window. Unsure of what else to do, he gave a polite wave. The father's response was to close the blinds.

 

He'd never liked Nubians anyway.

 

* * *

 

Stood perched on the very edge of what was left of the wrecked landing pad, Boba Fett watched as the ship transporting his mysterious assailants escaped into the dark hazed sky of the smuggler's moon. Looking down to his left arm, he casually nursed the wound. No one had come that close to killing him since the Sarlacc.

 

Panting approached him from behind which could only belong to one of the human members of his team.

 

"You get them all?"

 

Out of the corner of his Mandalorian visor he could see the man exasperated but nodding. One of the more coherent mercenaries, the Trandoshan, approached his other side.

 

"Who were they?" It rasped.

 

"When I find out I'll tell you. But if I know one thing it's that a Vong with a lightsaber ain't normal."

 

"Do you wish pursuit?"

 

"No need. He wanted me for my contacts, that's what he's gonna get. There's plenty of angry ex-members of the peace brigade left out there begging for Vong blood. Lets let them have it. If we're lucky, they might even know him. A Vong with an eye like that can't be too common."

[Trex]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

With one final deep, empowering breath, Shimrra looked at his target and punched.

 

The droid shattered into a hundred very pleasing pieces. Pacing across the cargo hold, he prepared to set up another target, only to have the metallic side of a container grab his eye. Having chosen to wrap what passed for his outfit around his waist for the morning's exercise, his full naked torso was in view.

 

He didn't mind the monstrous disfigurement on any level of vanity. What had begun to grate on him was that his strength had fallen from what it once was. A few months ago, eight separate attempts to destroy a droid in a single blow would have been inconceivable.

 

The difference was of course that this wasn't

really

his body. It had belonged to one his shapers, believed to have been killed after fleeing the battle above Yuuzhan'Tar. It only maintained the appearence of his former body due to recovered memories in his brain, discovered by Quanemlayne's plants who had physically altered it accordingly.

 

It could have been worse. At least they had not used technology to revive him. The methods of Quane's children were almost akin to his own species.

 

He gently fingered the parts which had combined the two bodies together. Mysteriously barked and fleshy they were not entirely dissimiliar to the defensive shell of an animal. Every slight movement sent a new flash of pain throughout his body. Luckily of course, the embrace of pain was something he'd long confronted.

 

Deciding the practice session was indeed over, he redressed himself and began to move to the exit. Before he could leave however, the exit was blocked by the human creature named Quane.

 

She stood there with an over excitable grin on her face.

 

"You know what today is?"

 

Shimrra just stared back, unsure of what this galaxy defined as a day, never mind which one it was. After standing looking as though she were about to spontaneously combust, she eventually anwsered.

 

"It's your birthday. One month!"

 

He was about to explain that his memories sustained the fact that he had been alive for considerably longer when she dramatically unveiled a container from behind her back and offered it to him.

 

Curious more than anything, he took the package, after which she skipped off to harass someone else on the ship.

 

He stood there, staring at the box. After shaking it, listening to it, smelling it and quietly demanding it to respond, he decided to smash it. Inside was something which actually brought a magnificent smile to his face. In a minute, he was wearing it and staring back into the reflective container.

 

Quane had fashioned him an outfit. A

real

outfit.

 

It was not entirly dissimilar to the one he had worn whilst ruling. Shoulder pads atop each arm increased his stature even more, moving down into a robe, and both covering a thick jumpsuit, all in black. Although presumably yet another form of plant, it gave the convincing impression of heavy cloth.

 

In the bottom of the container, had lain his very own helmet. It wasn't so much a helmet per se, as a wide red visor which covered his eyes, held in place by a metalic catch over the top. Enough to cover his Yuuzhan Vong identity, but also just enough to show his most imposing facial features.

 

More than satisfied, he left immediately to gauge his 'masters' reaction to it.

 

* * *

 

Nom Anor had recently decided to turn one of the unused areas of the upper deck into his own private chambers. It was here that he could conceive his lastest strategies for defeating the Jedi and meditate over his still new force abilities.

 

This was of course what he had said, but Shimrra was no fool. It was much more likely that it was an excuse for ignoring the fact that they ultimately had no real plan of attack, or indeed any real plan at all. The meeting with the bounty hunter had been intended to at least set them on the right course, but even that plan of Nom Anor's had gone sour.

 

Shimrra entered his former prefect's chamber to find Nom Anor far from the vision of a disciplined Jedi.

 

He lay flat on his back, hands behind his head, unmasked and staring at the ceiling. A quick glance was thrown Shimrra's way as he entered, but that was all.

 

"A masterly technique for strategic musings, Executor." He noted, "I wonder if I may have a moment of your time?"

 

Nom Anor did not reply.

 

"I require a moment of your time, Executor." He repeated.

 

Nom Anor still refused to reply. Shimrra eventually realized why and rephrased his request.

 

"May I have a moment of your time,

Master

?"

 

"Of course, my loyal slave." Nom Anor now sat bolt upright and turned to him. "What can I do to quell your concerns?"

 

"A course and heading would be admirable. The

Jeedai

are hardly going to come to us."

 

Something seemed to strike Nom Anor as soon as he heard this.

 

"What in the galaxy makes you say that, Shimrra?"

 

The look on the larger's face clearly showed a lack of understanding. Enjoying, as always, baffling his former master, he continued.

 

"Why run head first into a Krayt dragon's lair when you can lure him out into a mine field with a heard of Banthas?"

 

"'Bantha's', Executor?"

 

Nom Anor waved his hand to dismiss the comment.

 

"What would you have us do, Shimrra? Rush into the Jedi sanctum with our little automated army in the blind hope of succeeding? You see, this is why your reign failed,

former

Supreme Overlord. Overwhelming force is hardly the most effective part of a battle plan. One must think. Study the enemy. Find it's weakness."

 

"And you have found this...weakness?"

 

"I had discovered it before you even entered this galaxy. Of course neither the Supreme Overlord or the Warmaster would ever consult a lowly Executor over grand war plans. No, he would only ever serve the purpose dictated by the Gods through his occasionally approved covert assassination attempts relying on the priests, or providing intelligence on a battle he would not even attend."

 

Shimrra hadn't a single word in reply, instead allowing Nom Anor to continue.

 

"Those plans I had full control over, you may have noticed, were always the one's which succeeded. The engineered rebellion on Rhommomool, the destruction of Sernpidal," he continued, looking straight into the other's eyes. "...the rising of the shamed ones."

 

This was something which caused more than a brief shudder in Shimrra's stance.

 

"Yes, oh 'dread one'. I was more than a little responsible for that. The greatest threat to your leadership was not only dismissed by you, but you could not even see the fabled Yu'shaa standing in your own throne room and clad in the robes of a high prefect."

 

An anger filled Shimrra. If unleashed, it would result in the limp body of Nom Anor floating dead in deep space. It was clear that the Executor had already taken note of his reaction however, and was lightly fingering his lightsaber in response.

 

"In response to your query, slave, I will therefore state that we will not be heading straight into the headquaters of the Jedi heirarchey just yet, but instead organising a flawless and foolproof trap for them. In order to successfully bait this trap, we will be spending a little time on the isolated planet of Korriban."

 

"Korriban?"

 

"I would not expect you to have heard of it. It is a place of some notority amongst the Jedi and one which I believe will be most useful to us."

 

With that, Nom Anor stood, said simply "Nice oufit." then left.

 

* * *

 

Quane was adjusting the controls in the cockpit when Nom Anor found her, maintaining the orbit of one the lesser moons of Nal Hutta.

 

"He is not one your pets, you know?" He said sternly, approaching from behind.

 

"Oh come on. We can't have him walking around in those bed sheets. If nothing else he'll look a

little

less conspicuous."

 

There was some degree of logic to the idea, even if the emphasis was very rightly on the word little.

 

An alarm and a blinking light suddenly activated themselves on the console.

 

"What is it?" Nom Anor asked.

 

"Incoming...I think. I'm still not used to the controls yet."

 

Flashes of light responded through the viewport as at least twenty ships exited from hyperspace in front of them. Judging by the lack of similiar designs between them, Nom Anor assumed they were pirates or even more mercenaries. The audio channel flickered to life followed by an unfamiliar voice.

 

"Where is Nom Anor?" It demanded.

 

Quane leaned forward to reply through the device.

 

"What do you want with him?"

 

"What any sane man would want, Captain. His cold lifeless corpse!"