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

[CSI]

Ark...I haven't read THAT long? Darn!

 

Anyway back to the topic: Nicely done, and keep up good work!

[DarthSion101]

Awesome chapters Trex....keep em coming.

[Trex]

Thanks for the positive feedback ; always welcome.

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

The Avenging Eagle's engines were bursting with a thrust to stretch it's engines in under a second. The attackers were clearly expecting this tactic and sped after them with equaling, then exceeding speed.

 

Nom Anor actually found himself panicking a little.

 

"Faster!"

 

"We are 'faster'!" Quane yelled back, "In fact we're

fastest

. This is as fast as we're going to go! And yes, I know they're gaining."

 

Nom Anor turned to the console's displays. The miscellaneous fleet would be on them in minutes, with not a chance of them jumping to hyperspace under Nal Hutta and the mass shadows of her various moons. Not a chance of running, and definitely not a chance of hiding.

 

"I do have one idea..." Quane spoke up.

 

"Do it!"

 

"You don't want to know what it is?"

 

He simply glared back at her in silent response, to which Quane shrugged and banked the vessel sharply to the left. Looking up, Nom Anor saw they were heading directly back towards Nar Shaddaa.

 

* * *

 

The ship swooped in as dramatically as she had left, although this time far from slowing down for a safe landing. Heading straight into one of the most populated nearby areas, the imposing vessel soared through the skyline, expertly dodging skyscraper after skyscraper.

 

The pursuing ships were not so lucky. Two crashed before the chase could even fully begin, failing to raise their noses after the speedy descent.

 

The Eagle led the chase, weaving in and out of as many towers as possible. Another fell, foolishly catching it's wing on a near-hidden landing platform and transforming into a hail of flame. A few rose out of the commotion, presumably thinking that they could catch their enemy when trying to escape.

 

One however, did not give up, did not falter, and did not slow down. A heavy looking yet surprisingly dexterous freighter followed them every step of the way. Whenever there was a clear line of sight, it's pursuit was accompanied by a multitude of blaster shots.

 

Trying his best to compensate for gravity against the dramatic twists and turns, Shimrra stumbled into the cockpit.

 

“Do the weapons not function?!” He demanded.

 

“First of all,” Nom Anor emphasized, “they work at my discretion, not yours.”

 

“...and secondly,” Quane added, with little less ego, “we don't know. Never even fired them.”

 

The ship shook as one of their pursuer's shots rang true.

 

Quane gave into pressure and reached for the weapons console.

 

“If we can swing round, we can catch them with one good shot without them expecting it.”

 

A Yuuzhan Vong hand held back her arm. Surprisingly, it was Shimrra's. Even Nom Anor had to turn away from the outside chaos for a second to confirm that it had indeed happened. The now visored eyes looked at him.

 

“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?”

 

Nom Anor smiled in response, understanding the reference more than when he had in fact first said it, then reached over and opened a communication line.

 

“By whom do I have the honor of being pursued?”

 

The commotion on the opposing signal was far from coherent. Eventually one noticeable voice came forward.

 

“Who is this?” It asked with a drawl accent only a mercenary could be capable of.

 

“Who do you think?” Nom Anor replied, “The legend and hunted himself who answers to the name Nom Anor.”

 

“Is this a plea for your life, Vong?”

 

“Far from it, my homicidal friend. This is a negotiation. A plea, if you must phrase it so, for a truce.”

 

The ship shook again from blaster fire, partly in answer to the proposal.

 

“Please!” The Executor continued, “There are...women and children on board!”

 

Quane gave him a judgmental look, but tension was quickly swain with a shrug on his part. The ruse had apparently worked as the weapons barrage had ceased.

 

“Okay, what did you have in mind, traitor?” The voice replied, a little more calmly than before.

 

“A talk, to begin with. Face to face.”

 

“Not on your life. I know what little tricks your false eye holds. I'll see you and your passengers dead before I see you take one step on my vessel.”

 

Nom Anor rolled his good eye.

 

“Very well. Bring your ship alongside and meet me on the roof.”

 

Tuning off the communicator, he turned to Shimrra then whispered something into his ear. The former overlord gave Quane a quick glance then exited. Oblivious to this, she still looked at Nom Anor.

 

“The roof?” She asked.

 

“The roof.”

 

* * *

 

The ships held still in the smog riddled air above Nar Shaddaa, hovering by each other amongst the imposing skyscrapers. Exiting through a rooftop hatch, Nom Anor strode confidently to the edge of the port wing. After a few moments, the hatch atop the other vessel opened up, revealing it's own negotiator, and presumably captain. Making his way to the starboard side of his own ship with far less skill and confidence, he came to face Nom Anor at a safe enough distance of twelve feet.

 

“So, now that I have the full pleasure of your company, whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

 

The captain pulled himself up to the fullest height possible whilst still maintaining his balance.

 

“Mago Tajik!” He announced, with a little too much pleasure for Nom Anor's liking. “Now what do you want, Executor?”

 

“Answers, before anything else captain. Tell me, how do you know my name?”

 

“Know your name?! We've even met! It was on Rhommomool five years ago.”

 

So that was it. This was a disgruntled remnant of the disbanded peace brigade. Nom Anor could understand his anger therefore, even if he could not allow it.

 

“I see why you wish me dead, captain. I wonder though, will my 'cold lifeless corpse' really be what satisfies your want for vengeance?”

 

“You're speaking in riddles, Executor. Answering them was not something I came up here to do. Do you have passenger lives to barter for or not?!”

 

“The correct reply to my 'riddle' as you put it, captain, is that it is not in fact any fault of mine that your beloved brigade failed. It's faults lie with the failure of the Yuuzhan Vong themselves and those who brought it. It lies, captain, with the Jedi.”

 

“What?” The captain replied, staring back at him in the way Quane probably would.

 

“I am merely a vent for your frustrations, captain. Do you wish only to satisfy your emotions, or do you truly wish to wreak revenge on those who have wronged you?”

 

Tajik was beginning to understand now, listening intently to Nom Anor's every word.

 

“I am on a vendetta myself, captain. I seek to fell those by whom I have fallen. Why not join us and bring death to those who truly deserve it?”

 

“You're going to kill Jedi?”

 

“With great ease I daresay, if you were by my side. What say you?”

 

The captain stood for the longest time, deliberating on which path to choose. Eventually, he turned to Nom Anor and nodded.

 

“I assume you have a plan.”

 

Nom Anor snapped his fingers, to which an obedient Shimrra replied by joining him on the roof, carrying the droid Vrook.

 

“This...droid can lead you to a planet. During recent excursions onto said planet, I have recently come into possession of a small droid army.”

 

“A

droid army

!”

 

“Yes, it's very nice. There are unfortunately, rather a lot of them. I would appreciate it if you could begin transporting each to a more useful planet for me. Specifically one which would make more of a fitting trap.”

 

Using the Force, Nom Anor drifted the droid over to the mercenary vessel.

 

“His name is Vrook. Treat him as one of your own.”

 

The captain, nodded and began escorting the droid inside.

 

* * *

 

A little while later, the Avenging Eagle was sailing through space away from Nal Hutta, side by side with Mago Tajik's small fleet. The comm was open and the two were exchanging last minute information.

 

“...and when you get there, be sure not to disturb the dormant droids too much, they may see you as their enemy.”

 

“Understood, Executor.”

 

Only himself and Quane were presently in the cockpit, Shimrra occupying himself in the main hold.

 

“Quane, why don't you go help Shimrra? I think I can handle the controls now.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“The destination's already preprogrammed, isn't it?”

 

Quane happily shrugged and left him too it. Looking out the viewport, he could see the fleet moving away from him and preparing to jump to hyperspace.

 

“Is that all, sir?”

 

Nom Anor sniggered, leaning back in the seat with his feet on the console. He was calling him 'sir' already.

 

“One last thing. Is Vrook there?”

 

The dull metallic voice of the droid came over the comm.

 

“State...yourself.”

 

“It's only me, Vrook. Just saying farewell.”

 

“Goodbye...Nom Anor.”

 

“Goodbye, Vrook.”

 

There may have been some short term benefits to this loose alliance, but none that could be trusted over time.

 

Pulling a detonator from under the folds of his robe, he detonated it, activating the explosives Shimrra had hidden inside the droid, sending the mercenary ship into flame and the surrounding others into damaged or spiraling wreckage. Before the rest of the fleet could respond, Nom Anor had already activated the hyperdrive with a kick of his foot and sent the Eagle on it's way.

 

People were far too trusting.

[DarthSion101]

The treacherous executor strikes again lol. Another great chapter, and an awesome read.

[Trex]

Next chapter. Enjoy...

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

The route to Korriban, even through hyperspeed, was a long one. Uninterested in Quane's blubbering over the loss of her precious droid Vrook, Nom Anor had chosen sleep and the peace it brought.

 

Comforting his forehead on the headrest of the bunk however, it very quickly became clear that something was wrong. As conscious thought drifted into dreamlike relaxation, the texture of the bunk itself changed from hard material to moist flesh.

 

Up on his feet in a start, Nom Anor found himself once again back in the throne room of the Supreme Overlord of the Yuuzhan Vong. It was completely empty apart from one soul sitting on the once proud throne.

 

Shimrra sat there, clad in the full regalia his title afforded him, with spectrum colored eyes staring toward him.

 

“Eerie, isn't it?” A female voice spoke up from behind him.

 

Turning, his eye met Vimack. Dressed in the usual way of Quane, he was quick to notice that, although the hair and eyes were each the disconcerting red he had come to associate with her, violence was far from her first concern. She was therefore here to talk.

 

“What do you want?” He demanded.

 

“Don't be angry at me, Executor.” She calmly replied. “It's not my fault you upset Quane then, allowing her to rest, accidentally fell asleep with than good old force embedded masquer of yours on.”

 

This was hardly something he could have predicated as a consequence of his actions, but that didn't mean he shouldn't play along anyway.

 

“Very well. You're not her to kill me, so I assume you have something to show me.”

 

“Exactly, Executor.” She began, moving off to the center of the chamber, arms stretched wide. “You no doubt already recognize where you are.”

 

“You wish to visit something of my past?”

 

“Actually you did not witness it directly, but I'm sure you will recognize it easily enough.”

 

With a raise of her hand, twelve copies of the overlord's private guard spawned out of the air to surround the throne, and around Nom Anor appeared three more instantly recognizable characters ; Jaina and Jacen Solo, and in the center, Luke Skywalker.

 

As the visions moved toward each other, reenacting the final battle which had taken place there, Vimack continued to talk against the muted combat. It was not long until, once again, the Jedi began to win and Shimrra himself had to intervene.

 

“I have to admire your Overlord's spirit. It takes some pluck to face down a Jedi Master, even if your skills are to prove unsubstantiated.”

 

Nom Anor found himself surprisingly fascinated by the activity. Having not witnessed it directly, he was intrigued to see the blow which had killed his formed master.

 

The weapons of the hero and the enemy clashed. Soon, the moment came. Shimrra had drawn Anakin Solo's lightsaber as the threatening, psychological trick up his sleeve and was poised to use it against his enemy. Before he could strike, the scene slowed drastically.

 

“It was at this point, Executor, that your fate was truly decided. The blow you see, did not in fact succeed...”

 

Nom Anor could see as much was true. The lightsaber was torn from his grip by the Jedi master, who stood there, a weapon in each hand, prepared to decapitate the overlord. The scene now completely froze.

 

“...instead the attempt becoming your former master's doom.”

 

“You have yet to make your point, Sith.”

 

“Don't worry, I'm getting to it just now. My point is, what if another were here? One who could actually defeat these usurpers.”

 

It was at this point that Vimack, with more than a little edge of comedy, leaped into the commotion.

 

“What if you had one who

could

actually defeat a Jedi?”

 

With these words, she turned and, reaching out her force wielding hand, ripped the Saber from Skywalker's hand and caught it in her own. The scene reanimated with the Jedi shocked to see a new character standing there. Vimack merely smiled back, reaching her gripping arm towards him. The Nubian was raised above the ground, the invisible hand of the Sith choking his throat.

 

After a few moments, the fallen body of Luke Skywalker fell dead to the floor. Shimrra was less than fazed at the arrival of this new development and simply moved off towards Jaina. This left Jacen, sat in the corner and still recovering from a blow a few moments ago. Vimack snarled with an inhuman tone and sent flashes of lightening from her fingertips flying at him. Convinced he was suitably subdued, she guided his agonized form across the floor to the space between herself and Nom Anor.

 

The Executor stared at young warrior, finally beaten.

 

“You know what Quane would have done in this situation? She would have said how pretty all the different lightsaber blades were, how weird the big chair was at the back of the room, or how funny looking all the aliens were. She's good for growing and building, very little else. Embrace the dark side, Executor, by embracing me as your ally.”

 

“What about Quane?”

 

“Right, what about her? As I have said before, Executor, it is in your nature to betray those which you serve. Why should those you join with be any different?”

 

“Maybe I will betray you as soon as I see fit.”

 

“I will earn my keep. You will be honored to have me serve under you, as I will be honored to serve.”

 

Breaking the reciprocal gaze between them, Nom Anor turned his head to observe the full context of the room's events. The unsuspecting Jaina had met death at the hands of Shimrra and the remaining Slayers. The Jedi master now lay on the floor, dead from a lethal combination of Yuuhzan Vong poison and a choked out lack of air. Turning once again back to Vimack, he simply asked the most pertinent question.

 

“How?”

 

The Sith Lord laughed, which was not the most pleasing of sounds.

 

“You venture to Korriban now, of course. I suspect your reason lies with the hope of finding a suitable artifact of interest to arouse the attentions of those you seek to destroy, the answers they themselves seek of course of found in a flawlessly engineered trap by yourself. I have no need to be aware of you plan on the whole, but what you do need to know of, is the cave.”

 

The current Sabacc face of Nom Anor flickered in memory the story which the late Roompa had passed on to him.

 

“Listen to the Ooglith masquer you wear. The resonance of the dark power of found in this shadowed place will call to you, as it will also call to Quane. Be sure to land in the valley of the dark lords and follow that which speaks to you. Quane will resist as the suppressed memories of the past begin to resurface, but bring the fool where the darkest sources can once again consume her, and I will rise as a being unlike anything you have ever seen. You, Nom Anor, will have the power of an unleashed Sith Lord at your command, and then, you will have the death of your enemies.”

 

Concluding her statement, Vimack ignited the weapon still in her hand and plunged it deep into the remaining Jedi's heart.

 

* * *

 

Far to the edge of the galaxy, on the frozen ice planet of Hoth, hid the remaining members and remnant of the once mighty Peace Brigade. While scouting the region during the previously successful invasion, certain members had come across a deserted base, currently unoccupied but for a roaming pack of native creatures named Wampa's. It was here that peace brigade now referred to as it's home.

 

Barely limping it's way out of hyperspace had recently arrived a heavily damaged freighter, transmitting the correct entry codes and requesting immediate repairs. Descending upon the unforgiving surface with more gravity than desired, the ship had crashed and when investigated, yielded only one survivor.

 

It was this man, a Corellian, whom the base commander, Bal Dannecks was off to meet. On route, he passed the numerous refugees how inhabiting the locale ; men, women and children of more different races than he would have liked. The population was currently thousands and rising on a daily basis as word spread of the safe escape offered here.

 

The medical bay was full as always, and Bal was sure to offer his reassurances of safety whenever he could. At the rear of room, as indicated by the Mon Calamari doctor, was the man he sought.

 

He was badly wounded. Being a Mandalorian, Bal was not accustomed to heavy injury against his hardy frame, but still felt some measure of sympathy. The Corellian however, was more than eager to talk.

 

“Commander!” He began, recoiling instantly from the pain speaking brought.

 

“Relax yourself, we're in no rush here.”

 

“I'm afraid we're in every rush, commander. If we don't organize ourselves quick enough...”

 

Guiding the young man onto his bed, Dannecks proceeded carefully.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Our group captain, Tajik, received a call that he was in the area around the smuggler's moon. We went there, we fought him, and then we trusted him. Then...he betrayed us. He killed,...he killed them all. We have to get him..!”

 

The young survivor tried to rise again, but fell back instantly with the suffering of pain.

 

“Who? Who killed them?”

 

“Nom Anor, sir! Nom Anor!!!”

 

[DarthSion101]

Another awesome chapter. this story just keeps getting better. Excellent creative writing Trex, keep it coming.

[Trex]

As with a while ago, I'm adding these two chapters together since one doesn't make as much sense without the other. Enjoy...

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

So this was Korriban.

 

Dead as a planet possibly could be and without a single identifiable form of life, Korriban was a graveyard and, from what Nom Anor knew, had been so for millennia at least. Glancing to the side through his mask's darkened visor, he could see Quane aghast with the sight.

 

Good. If she was too troubled to speak, she was definitely too troubled to object.

 

Shimrra crept down the landing ramp behind to join them on the surface.

 

“What is this place?” He asked, sniffing the air. “It reeks of death.”

 

“Not that surprising considering it a graveyard, Shimrra. If it troubles you, I suggest you remain on the ship.”

 

“I have smelt death closer than either of you. I no longer hold a fear of it.”

 

With that, the Yuuzhan Vong took off through the ruin they had landed in. What had presumably once been the vast hall of a complex had made a useful landing pad. Ruined walls and pillars were strewn all around. Nom Anor could not help wondering what had brought them down.

 

His attentions were quickly brought back to Shimrra however, who had took off down a nearby slope. Running to catch up, he asked the slave what he was doing.

 

“I am following the smell of death, Executor. Pray it is not the smell of our own.”

 

Stretching out with his force powered perceptions, Nom Anor found that the route Shimrra guided them on was indeed the one he sought. It was soon enough when, what he assumed was the cave Vimack had mentioned, was before him. The power tingled throughout his body, enhancing the excitement he already felt.

 

Quane was almost shivering.

 

“Do we

have

to go further?”

 

“You may wait here if you so wish, Quane. You will do so alone however.”

 

The gentle threat silenced her instantly. In what was possibly a caring gesture for the woman that, in Nom Anor's opinion, the creature was becoming far to close to, Shimrra was the next to object.

 

“What

exactly

is it we seek here, Nom Anor?”

 

Knowing that a forceful gesture by their leader would quell any strong concerns, Nom Anor simply strode inside with a confident stride. After winding their way through the various roughly carved passages, they eventually crossed a thin, treacherous bridge and came before what could only be the true cave he sought. Visible energy climbed up the sides of the entrance, provoking a visible hue of purple. Soft female whimpering from behind began to echo in the hollow cave.

 

“I...I don't want to do this!” Quane yelled.

 

“But Quane,” Nom Anor replied, “If nothing else,

I

am going inside. I might get hurt without you to protect me. You wouldn't want your friend Nom Anor to get hurt now, would you?”

 

“No.” She muttered hesitantly.

 

“Then, come.”

 

With Nom Anor offering his hand, Quane took it feeling a little of the fear slip away with the tactile contact. Gently forcing her direction, the Executor lead her inside with Shimrra following. As the faint purple light faded, the three felt each other slowly drifting away.

 

SHIMRRA

 

His eyes may have lost their once imposing luminescence, but that did not mean they couldn't function any less efficiently. Shimrra strode through the darkness with a confidence only a Yuuzhan Vong could muster.

 

When he had strode as long as he could stand without it yielding any result, he halted, turning a full circle to analyze anything he could see.

 

“I tire of this!” He yelled. “If there is a trickster who orchestrates this schism, let him show himself!”

 

A voice sounded from the darkness in response. Shimrra did not recognize it, but knew from the tone that, one way or another, it was the sound of death. Of a fallen being who no longer served a practical purpose for the universe and had been reduced to only a vague reality of existence.

 

“Why have you come? There is nothing but the dead which have been left on this world. It is the call of this planet. It is the call of Korriban.”

 

“Enter the light, fool.” Shimrra shot back. “Either show your face or show your intentions.”

 

“I...have no face. I...have no being. There is only hate. There is only pain.”

 

“Then speak your mind and be gone!”

 

A full minute of silence passed before the ghostly voice replied.

 

“What...creature are you?”

 

Far from in the presence of Nom Anor, Shimrra gave the answer he still held truest.

 

“I am Supreme Overlord Shimrra Jamaane of the Yuuzhan Vong, absolute ruler and Dread Lord of the great warrior race of Yun'Yuuzhan.”

 

“I see your lies even from here, fallen one. Your once proud mantle lost in the mists of time, soon to be catalogs for the students of history. You lie to cover your shame. As once...did I.”

 

The lighting of the room was heralded with the snap-hiss of the very weapon Shimrra held in most disdain, the red glow of the blade showing both him and the other.

 

It was a man, once a human of this galaxy, but altered with abuse of a thousand scars. His skin was grey, not necessarily due to a level of malnutrition, but more a loss of life, drawn from the body itself. The red brightness illuminated a bald head and a one eyed face, a glowing red-orange iris glaring right at him and judging the creature before it.

 

“In the annals of time, there was a Sith. The Sith answered to a master, and he spoke to only to her. In the end, she refused to respect him any longer. She had found her true calling in another, and betrayed that which she once treasured.

You

are being betrayed even now, Shimrra Jamaane. Your master, as mine once did, only seeing in you the ways to further themselves.”

 

Shimrra held himself silent, the truth of the Sith Lord's words ringing true.

 

“It need not be so. Learn from my failings. Prove to those who lead and manipulate you that it is yourself which is to be feared.”

 

The speaker straightened his saber to lie across the former overlord's shoulder.

 

“You have forgotten who you are 'supreme overlord'. You have forgotten that which has made you supreme. You have forgotten that which caused those who followed you to cower in your presence. You have forgotten

yourself

. Do not fall as I once did. Show your worth to your master by showing that

you

are the master.”

 

“I am not what I once was, fallen lord.” The sunken face of Shimrra replied. “My master ridicules me. He mocks what I once was with his own augmented abilities. It pains me, but I dare not challenge him.”

 

“I know of pain. It consumes, it grasps, but it empowers. It is by only a choice of your own that you bow to his will, Shimrra Jamaane.”

 

With these last words, the weapon was deactivated and the light lowered to a new darkness. Shimrra was left once again with himself.

[Trex]

And...

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

NOM ANOR

 

“Have you found what you were looking for amongst the dead?” The old woman asked.

 

She was roughly the same height as Nom Anor himself, but poised with a confidence the Executor was not at the time emitting. Selecting more of a scare tactic in response, he straighted his poise for an introduction of himself and his intentions.

 

“I am Executor N,-”

 

“I am well aware of who you are, Executor. My queries therefore lie with the investigation into who

you

know you are.”

 

This was far from the answer Nom Anor was expecting.

 

“I know more of myself than you could ever hope to.”

 

“Speaks the redundant spy, no longer following any path but his own and consumed now only with petty vengeance. Had you been any other species, you may have made a fine Sith. Instead, I am afraid you must be satisfied with the perversion have become.”

 

“I wield the force as well as any Jedi, old woman.”

 

“Then it is clear how few you have met. Your failings are in your defiance of allegiance. During the war, it was your unwillingness to embrace any side but your own. Now, it is your failure to embrace the two extremes of the force which falters you.”

 

“I do not see how. The ways of the Sith lead to overconfidence, irrationality and ignorance. The ways of the Jedi lead to overconfidence, irrationality and ignorance. As I am, my actions are free to serve my motives in only the most practical way I perceive.”

 

The female vision stood still for a moment, seemingly beaten, but the snatching up a gripped hand, began choking Nom Anor from where she preached.

 

“Your powerful philosophies do not seem to serve you well here, Nom Anor. How in the galaxy could you survive this one?” She asked with false sympathy.

 

After proving her statement to the point of Nom Anor's asphyxiation, she released him. Falling to all four limps, he looked back at her, gasping.

 

“What do you want, old woman?”

 

“The end of the Jedi, the end of the Sith, and the end of the force. No less.”

 

Nom Anor bellowed a laugh.

 

“Is that all? Perhaps I should also acquire the position of high chancellor for you as well next time I pass Coruscant?”

 

The woman did not reciprocate his laugh, instead continuing in her emotionless tone.

 

“I see a possible end for that which I loath in you, Nom Anor. A perversion such as yourself is capable of acts those such as myself could only fantasize about. You must destroy every Jedi, destroy every Sith, and then destroy yourself through destruction of your masquer.”

 

“What of Quane?”

 

“What of her? If you wish her assistance I do encourage the idea of the darker side of her at your disposal. Whatever your perceptions of either, it is hard to deny the fact that a Sith is far more eager and efficient at killing than a Jedi. Begin with the obliteration you already plan. The death of the the three most renowned Jedi in the galaxy will be a great blow. After this, it will be a simple case of tying up loose ends.”

 

“And what of Vimack when this...slaughter is complete.”

 

“'You must kill

every

Sith.'”

 

Nom Anor sneered.

 

“And why, old woman, should I follow your propositions when I am doing so well on my own?”

 

“Because, Executor, I can deliver your greatest weapon of all. I can deliver Vimack.”

 

“How? When will you begin?”

 

“Executor, I have already begun.”

 

As the last syllable faded to darkness, so did she.

 

QUANE

 

As soon as the dark had closed in around her, separating the three, Quane had quickly drawn her weapons. Memories were returning, vague and disturbing, and nothing she wished to recall too vividly.

 

The darkness was becoming familiar. The cynical may argue that all the shades devoid of light were essentially the same, but they would not have spent the time with it she had. She could sense it. The all consuming sensation was not unlike the feeling of claustrophobia, diminishing her air as it diminished the light.

 

Then she felt something else. A shudder in the dark ethereal waves. The source was clear, forcing her to turn and face it. For a moment, there was a feeling of relief, followed quickly by fear. Every being had their own distinct vibrations in the force, and this was not Nom Anor. Unable to speak and just holding back a tear, she fell to her knees. Before her was the man she had once called master. The man who answered to the name Revan.

 

“Hello, Quanemlayne.”

 

“Master, I...”

 

“Shh. Do not fret yourself child. I have not come here to harm you.”

 

“I,..I thought you were dead.”

 

“I may as well have been. Why have you been so quick to abandon that which you should have embraced?”

 

Quane, nervous and more than a little scared, slowly raised her head.

 

“I 'should have embraced'?

What

should I have embraced?”

 

“That which empowers you, of course. That which binds you to what you truly are. That which binds you to me. The dark source of absolute power.”

 

“The dark side? But...but you were reclaimed. You came back to the light!”

 

“I failed, Quanemlayne. I succumbed to the lies of the Jedi council, desperate to manipulate me to their own narrow minded ends.”

 

At was at this point that the new sensation arrived. The sensation of suspicion. Quane rose and looked her former master in the visor.

 

“What is this?”

 

“This? This is the foreshadowing of your greatest revelation.”

 

“Not the revelation you hope for I suspect.”

 

In one defiant fluid movement, she ripped away the mask. The face staring back at her was far worse or imposing than Revan's, and far more gruesome than Nom Anor's. It was her own.

 

The surprisingly friendly face of Vimack looked back at her and smiled.

 

“Vimack.”

 

“Quane.”

 

“Are you..?”

 

“Here? There? Everywhere. Especially

this

where.” She replied, pointing to Quane's chest.

“With the darkness inside.”

 

“There is no darkness inside.”

 

“I beg to differ. In fact, why not show you.”

 

Quane straightened.

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“Me? Who said anything about me?”

 

As she left the last words to hang in the air, the knowing smirk of Vimack dissolved into another figure approaching from behind her. The resonance of this one Quane recognized.

 

“Nom Anor. I,-”

 

Without the utterance of a reply, Nom Anor lit his weapon.

 

“Unleash it, Quane! Unleash the power you deny! The dark side

is

what your master was trying to tell you about! It

is

the power he desired for you! It

is

the true answer to his absence!”

 

Unwilling to allow even a second for her to fully weigh the pros and cons, he reached out and began choking her with the Force. Slowly, the extremely direct line of argument started to work. The red essence of Vimack began to show through the dark black hair.

 

Suddenly, a dark shaded juggernaut of a creature shot from the dark to his side throwing both his concentration and balance into disarray. Latching the sight of his good eye to his attacker, Nom Anor found Shimrra. The two rose slowly to their feet, each gripping his hand around a weapon.

 

Secretly, Nom Anor had always suspected that the forced obedience of Shimrra would not last. Just as secretly however, he had never fully wanted it to. Had there not been a moment when the two came to blows, he probably would have forced it happen out of principal.

 

The purple energy which had originally beckoned them in slowly began to fill the chamber with eerie light, showcasing the pair. Finally, after years of allegiances, betrayals and hate, Executor Nom Anor and Supreme Overlord Shimrra of the Yuuzhan Vong, drew their weapons and fought.

 

[DarthSion101]

Very twisted, Very Twisted indeed. the crypt of many maipulations, each dark spector having its own agenda that it wants fulfilled through each seperate member of the party. Excellent Chapters Trex, I'm sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for more.

[Trex]

Excellent Chapters Trex, I'm sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for more.

 

Well I'd hate to leave you there for too long, so...

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

The blades, metal and energy, clashed together with a fury which echoed over Korriban itself. The fight was anger, complete and purposeful.

 

Unable to fight normally against such a colossal foe, Nom Anor pulled the most he could from the Force powering Masquer, leaping around Shimrra with skill and momentum the creature could not have expected. 'What was expected' made little difference to Shimrra, who blocked every single attack made with even enough time to throw in a few of his own.

 

The Overlord eventually managed to catch Nom Anor by his weapon hand and snatched the wrist firm with his vice-like grip. Dropping the Rakata sword from his other, he latched onto the Executor's alternate arm and held him in place above the ground, allowing him to squirm just enough to still maintain the illusion of hope.

 

Finding Nom Anor's face turn directly toward him, Shimrra suddenly discovered that the illusion could be his own. The Plaeryin Bol eye fired, catching Shimrra square in the shoulder. With a howl of anger not even the most pained Wookie could muster, Nom Anor was thrown through the air and landed by the edge of what was lit.

 

Turning to check on his opponent, he found Shimrra reaching into his right shoulder with bare fingertips to pull out the poisoned stinger. It was unlikely that the venom could fell something as large as him, but it might just slow him down.

 

A sole footstep sounded just beside him. It was the old woman who'd imposed her council only a few minutes ago.

 

“You are unlikely to win this match seated on the floor, Executor. Fight!”

 

Unwilling to argue, Nom Anor sprang back his feet. Shimrra was ready to fight again, weapon retrieved and prepared. A smirk on his face, Nom Anor called the force to his feet and leaped. The jump was so fast the Overlord could barely react and was faced with his own turn to be struck to the floor.

 

Lain on the edge of the light, Shimrra twisted his head to see Nom Anor standing confidently in the center, igniting the second blade of his lightsaber and beginning to twirl it in a threatening dance.

 

A sole footstep sounded just beside him. It was the drained Sith Lord with whom he'd spoken only a few minutes ago.

 

“He cannot bow to you if you are seated on the ground before him! Fight and defeat him, Supreme Overlord!”

 

Reinvigorated by the words of encouragement, Shimrra bound back towards Nom Anor, a bloodcurdling Yuuzhan Vong warcry bellowing out his lungs. The two clashed their weapons again, circling around each other with move after move, parry and blow.

 

The dark specters hung at the edge the arena, balling out compliments for their own and spitting insults to the other.

 

Each spinning their weapons in one great, forceful blow, the enemies blocked each other's attacks simultaneously and locked the combat. Tensing the grips on their weapons, they met each other's eyes. Shimrra knew fine well that it took a few minutes longer for Nom Anor's Venom shooter to recharge and took as much time and pride as possible to threateningly glare into the sole eye. The other stared back just as furiously, as the strength required to keep forcing the standoff turned into hate filled yells.

 

“ENOUGH!!”

 

Nom Anor and Shimrra were blasted apart by an invisible force and strewn onto opposite sides of the arena. The source of the power was obvious and standing proudly.

 

“What is this?” Vimack shouted with an almost cackling laugh, “The pained one and the betrayer come to settle their score with each other, too weakened by the corruption of time to face each other themselves and forced to recruit lackeys?”

 

“The Lord of Betrayal does not bow to the Lord of Anger, Vimack!” The woman replied.

 

The two visions drew weapons from the darkness behind them and jumped to battle. Vimack was already prepared and ignited blades to meet them. The old woman was killed instantly, only to reappear again on the rim of light. She ran back in again as if nothing had stumped her and continued with the fight. By the time she reached Vimack, the man had already been killed. Like the other, the he reappeared where the light met the shadow and and raced back into center.

 

Barely understanding what was going on, Nom Anor just lay there watching. More because he felt rather than heard anything, the Executer turned to the shade behind him to see even more visions approaching. A lot more.

 

The shapes of a thousand Sith Lords of hundreds of different species were creeping slowly to the commotion. The first to step into the light was a huge behemoth of a creature, two horns on his head and ready with his red blade. He marched past Nom Anor without a single look, intent as the other two on destroying Vimack.

 

All around the ring, what could only be the dark spirits of defeated Sith warriors were closing in. Whoever this Vimack truly was, she had clearly made many enemies, none more determined to defeat her than the old woman.

 

“It is time to embrace your end, Vimack. You cannot hope to defeat us all.” She snarled.

 

“You always were a stubborn one, Kreia. Perhaps in time you will eventually learn to die as you always should have.”

 

Pushing the attacker away, Vimack raised her fisted hand and send out an invisible wave of pure force. The thirty or so enemies which now surrounded her fell to their backs. They would clearly be back up any second however, not to mention those still entering from the surrounding darkness.

 

Throwing a last sneer to the fallen ones around her, she threw both weapons to the floor. Unleashing an inhuman wail, the dark lord shot both arms to the ceiling, releasing a cascade of pure energy. The roof of the cavern blew wide open, scattering rocky debris in every direction and allowing the sunlight to enter. Confronted with the scorching sun, the visions faded to air, leaving just the three of them.

 

Nom Anor still lay there, dumbstruck with what had just happened. If this Vimack truly held such power, perhaps the others were right to try and destroy her. The woman herself was crouched on her knees and gasping for air, her last act having taken much out of her.

 

After the panting gasps for air returned to normal, Vimack stood and reveled in her success. Seeing Nom Anor rise to his feet also, she marched before him and bowed.

 

Now in full view and lit by the high sun of Korriban, she was ready for inspection. The hair had changed beyond it's previous and various incarnations of red, and was now accompanied by a gleaming shine that gave it a 'finished' touch. Whether metaphorically or actually, it definitely stated that this version of Vimack was here to stay, the creature known as Quane had been quelled into the deepest parts of her mind.

 

“So, master, impressed?” She asked.

 

Nom Anor spared a look at Shimrra for nothing more than curiosity at his reaction. The former Supreme Overlord had assumed a cross legged position and rested a solemn head against his left hand. The eyes were closed.

 

“So, now unleashed, you do indeed bow to my will?”

 

“I keep my promises, Executor. Had it not been for you I may have been stranded on that interminable world for an eternity. I...

suppose

it is a thanks I owe to you. How better to repay the deed than with the allegiance of a Sith Lord. A rather powerful one at that, if I may say so.”

 

“And how long exactly can I expect this servitude to last?”

 

Vimack smirked, her hidden thoughts exposed.

 

“I will of course call it a day at some point, but how about this : I will serve until the Jedi are but a fading memory and the Sith are recognized as the true power they are.”

 

“Good enough for me.”

 

Nom Anor offered his hand to what would undoubtedly become the sure favorite of his accumulating slaves.

 

“Before I allow you aboard my ship however, I must ask something. Who in the name of Yun'Yuuzhan himself is Darth Vimack?”

 

[DarthSion101]

Another good chapter. Keep those creative juices Flowing .

[Trex]

Well, here we are : the end of act two. As always, enjoy...

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

He could see her from the Avenging Eagle, poised on the precipice of a nearby cliff and scrutinizing all that lay below. The dark power she held could be felt a mile away. It was disconcerting, pleasing yet scaring all at the same time.

 

Nom Anor was more than merely satisfied with the recent train of events. In one dramatic confrontation, Shimrra's insurgence had been crushed and a new, even more powerful alliance had been forged.

 

But this new ally was more than he'd bargained for. It had been clear in the cave of visions that this Vimack was no ordinary Sith. The other dark lords had been intent on killing her, and if she was so willing to betray her own kind, why would she hesitate when it came to Nom Anor.

 

Finally leaving the ship to meet her upon the cliff, Nom Anor prepared himself for that which he did best ; manipulation.

 

* * *

 

“It is said in this galaxy, that the Sith were defeated when their last great warrior, named Sidious, finally fell. Since then, there have been others, but their tales are nothing compared to the promise you show.”

 

“I doubt the galaxy even remembers the manner of Sith I was. If that is the case, they are definitely not prepared for it.”

 

Vimack was still standing upon the cliff edge, eyes closed, hands clasped behind her back, and looking outward. The approach of Nom Anor behind her had been silent, but the volume of his steps made little difference to one so attuned to her surroundings.

 

“And what manner of Sith is that?”

 

She drew a deep breath in preparation for what would be a lengthy explanation.

 

“There was a time when the mantle of 'Sith Lord' did not belong solely to a dissident few obsessed with galactic domination. There were great wars between the two factions of Force users, involving the clashing blades of thousands of Force wielders.

 

“During these wars, there were those who refused to fight. For the Jedi, it was mainly due to their philosophy of a peaceful existence. For us, it was more the futility of it all. In either case, the two non-combatant groups chose to focus their minds inwardly.

 

“It is said that there are some Jedi who find the path to immortality. Who become one with the force. This path is not open to the Sith. There is no grand affinity to the galaxy. We seek to manipulate and control it, not understand and nurture it.

 

“It is this denied path which brought the one you see before you. I was one who assaulted this path with all. It was worth it in search of a dark immortality. I sought, then was beaten aback, deformed and perverted into one unlike which the Sith had never seen.

 

“You see, Executor, the Sith

cannot

reach infinity through the Force. They are no symbiont to it, they are it's dictator. This immortality can only be reached by succumbing to it. To say the least, this is impossible for us.”

 

She turned to Nom Anor, a solemn but angered glare in her eyes.

 

“Detaching the mind from the body will result in the ultimate symbiosis only for the Jedi. In a Sith, there is only rejection from the universe, coupled with the destruction of the body.”

 

“You lost your body?” Nom Anor asked. The philosophy was beyond him, but the science still made a small bit of sense.

 

“Entirely. Luckily, there was another one present which I was able to acquire.”

 

“You stole someone's body?”

 

“Stole it and used until it was withered beyond use. Before it's end I was able to find another. Before

it's

end I was able to find another.”

 

“Then an immortality you found.”

 

“Not one without consequence. A Sith is unconcerned with morals when it comes to their next target. I used all for my purposes ; man, woman, Jedi, and Sith. Even the dark lords became so fearful that they called an assembly and vowed that with all their power, they would prey upon and destroy me with less reverence than any other enemy.”

 

“Did they?”

 

“After a century of chase, seven Sith Lords cornered and killed me. I held myself until four were defeated and the remaining three speared three simultaneous strikes into my chest. Even at this late hour however, they had underestimated me. I had lured them to Korriban, where the dark side was strong enough to sustain one such as the perversion I am even through death. One then merely had to wait until a suitable victim would emerge.”

 

“Quane.”

 

“There were others of course which pilgrimaged to the dark graveyard, watched upon by myself and the other spirits who dwelt there, but none were nearly as susceptible as her. Trouble halted me though as I discovered her appearance was deceiving. An inward power counteracted the innocent exterior. Unlike any others before, she was able to suppress Lord Vimack. Well until now. A quick reminder of the dark power in this place can diminish even the most rigid barriers against me.”

 

The rest of the story did not need to be spoken. It was an easy thing to assume and envision the struggles inside Quane's mind which had raged for the last four thousand years. Sympathy for her almost crept into Nom Anor, but could not battle against with the power he felt looking at Vimack.

 

It was now that Shimrra joined them. Marching to the up the mountainside, his face glistened with an angry conviction that prepared Nom Anor for another physical confrontation. Rather than fight, he glanced briefly at Vimack, then Shimrra fell to his knees.

 

“I was pitted to challenge you, Executor. By way of my wants I fought for a time when once again you would bow and call me overlord. I failed. I

am not

what I once was. I

am

your servant and yours to command. I subject myself to your will.”

 

His head bowed lower still until it touched the ground. Looking back to Vimack for her reaction, he found her bowing in an equally dramatic gesture.

 

“I'm not too sure about allegiance to a Yuuzhan Vong.” Vimack commented, “You are no Sith.”

 

Nom Anor smiled as menacingly as possible. In his private moments of meditation, unbeknownst to the others, he had now come across the knowledge which Quane had been so hesitant to teach him. It had been his intention that such a display of power would be used against Shimrra to enforce his bidding, but such an opportune time as this would not arise again, and it was just the psychological manipulation he required.

 

Standing on the precipice cliff of Korriban's mountain with his two mightiest warriors before him, he raised his right hand to the sky and unleashed an awe inspiring display of force lightning.

 

* * *

 

Across the galaxy, on the surface of Coruscant, still being transformed back from it's incarnation as Yuuzhan'Tar, Luke Skywalker walked the decaying natural ground and examined the twisted world around him.

 

Suddenly, his chest tensed, causing him to keel forward.

 

“What was it?” Wedge asked, the guide at his side.

 

“Nothing, Wedge. I'll be fine in a moment.” He replied.

 

The lie cut him even deeper. He knew fine well by now the sensation of the dark side.

 

[DarthSion101]

Love the parasitic creature that Darth vimack is becoming .

[Trex]

Love the parasitic creature that Darth vimack is becoming .

 

Thanks. As the only main character who I made up from scratch, Nom Anor/Shimrra/Fett/Skywalker etc being adapted & expanded on from elsewhere, it's good to know that the Vimack/Quane character is enjoyable.

[Trex]

Well, it's the third and final act, and to commemorate I've added the thread's own poster/picture (See start of thread). I think I may have drawn Nom Anor a little too friendly, but never mind.

 

Enjoy the beginning of the end...

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

Luke Skywalker stood contently in the shadows, allowing the diplomats to continue their 'discussion'. Over the years, he had slowly acquired some of the skills required to be a competent politician, but was a long way from sizing up those he watched. Cal Omas, the current chief of state, weaved amongst the subtleties, requests and lies of the senators in a way he just managed to keep track of.

 

Spying, in a manner of speaking, from the second level mezzanine of the great hall currently being used as a senate, suited him just fine. From the shadows behind him emerged another figure. It was the very man he had come to meet.

 

“Luke.” He spoke, softly and in greeting. A worn welcome from his worn life.

“Bal.” He replied, maintaining the mood.

 

Once a proud captain amongst the republic, Bal Dannecks had fallen to a much lesser person. This was in no small amount due to his recent liaisons with the dissident group known popularly as the peace brigade. Knowing how the scattered remnants of the rebellious group would be victimized and sought, he had petitioned Luke directly for help.

 

It had been quite the battle with his own conscience to aid one of the men who had at one point hunted down his own Jedi, himself, his wife, and even his own son. It was therefore the realization that he would not only be saving the lives of the remnant few, but their much more innocent families.

 

In conjunction with his wife and the purchased services of Boba Fett, he had managed to set them up on the now abandoned rebel base on Hoth. It was hardly a place to called home though, and currently Bal and himself had been trying to find somewhere more suitable for the long haul.

 

“There's an irony here somewhere.” He began. “Had this been a few months ago, I might have tried to kill Cal.”

 

“That is the point, Commander Dannecks. It is an act of trust on my part. I know that even now you suspect me of setting a trap for at any opportune moment.”

 

“That I do. And it

does

help. So thanks.”

 

Luke smiled. Cal had just spotted the new arrival and given a discreet nod in their direction. If nothing else,

that

would be seen as an act of trust.

 

“I'm afraid that I really don't have any good news for you, Bal.” Continued Luke, turning back to his guest. “The galaxy is still trying to readjust itself after all the chaos. It will be a few months before somewhere suitable can be organized.”

 

“That's alright.” He replied, surprising Luke. “We've got something to be keeping ourselves occupied with.”

 

“Really? Nothing I'll have to turn a blind eye to I hope.”

 

“Naa. It's just an old friend back in town. We're hoping he'll provide some...entertainment.”

 

Luke nodded again, sensing nothing particularly insidious in his words.

 

“Have fun.” He added.

 

“We will.”

 

* * *

 

With the senate meeting adjourned and Bal departed, Luke made his way to the exit through the empty corridors of the grand building.

 

He suddenly stopped, sensing once against that unnatural disturbance in the Force. After tracing his mind back to the incident on Coruscant, he had come to the conclusion that it was not the echo of the dark side he had at first imagined. It was something else, twisted yet bathed in the dark energy.

 

It's source was close and right before him. Looking up he found it even within his sight.

 

In the far distance of the dimly lit corridor, there was a figure, robed and mysterious. It refused to move, choosing to simply stand and stare at the Jedi Master. Approaching with caution, Luke drew himself closer.

 

The figure did not flinch, not even when Luke was close enough to make out clearly the details of his outfit. It wore both a mask and hood, black and tinted with a deep rust red. The long black robe was topped with clasps all over and a cape hung from the back.

 

Despite all this, there was still no danger to be sensed.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“For now, Jedi Skywalker, I am a specter. A guide for your newest journey.”

 

“I'm to be making a journey? This is the first I've heard of it.”

 

“It is to be one you will never forget.”

 

Reaching slowly into the folds of his robes, the stranger pulled something out. It glistened in even this, the faintest light.

 

“You know what this is. It is desired by far too many of your kind.”

 

“That's a holocron.” Spoke Luke, taken by surprise. “Where did you get it?”

 

“Korriban, since you ask.”

 

“Are there any more?”

 

“Many. The price I ask for the others will not be as cheap.”

 

“What about this one?”

 

“This is a gift. A gesture on my part to encourage a trust between us.”

 

“A trust? I can't even see your face.”

 

“There is a reason for my secrecy. Don't worry, in time you will understand why.”

 

Using the Force, the stranger guided the holocron through the air and into the palm of Luke's hand.

 

“The price for the others is the accomplishment of a task.”

 

“Task?”

 

“In one week's time, meet me on Yavin four, amongst the ruins of your Jedi academy. There, we will discuss matters further.”

 

Turning to go, the character halted and turned his head back to look.

 

“I would also be very thankful, if you would be willing to bring your niece and nephew.”

 

“Jaina and Jacen? Why?”

 

“They may be...useful.”

 

With that, the phantom left, disappearing through the double doors to the far end of the corridor.

 

Luke was left alone, clutching the holocron and wondering if he'd just been handed answers to the forgotten knowledge of the Jedi, or a key to his own fate.

 

* * *

 

Down a secluded alley in the Mon Calamari city, Nom Anor grabbed his stomach in uncontrollable laughing convulsions, unbelieving in what he had just done. He remembered the last time this feeling had gripped him, standing on Yuuzhan'Tar after discovering the lie of the eighth cortex.

 

Pulling himself together, he exited the alley and made his way back to his ship's landing pad. After all, he had a trap to plan.

[DarthSion101]

very clever trap set by our twisted executor. great chapter.

[Trex]

The next chapter and the quiet before the storm...

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

The abandoned moon of Yavin had seen better days. The sturdy structure had already bested the slow decay of time, but now with the abuse of it's more recent Yuuzhan Vong masters, Nom Anor doubted it would ever be inhabited again. It was the perfect place for his ambush.

 

Landing his rickety transport in one of the many open areas, he was pleased to find the Avenging Eagle, his own ship, had already arrived. The Executor, being a much better candidate for the more covert parts of his grand plan, had insisted on initiating the bait personally. This had left Vimack and Shimrra with the arduous task of transporting as many of his personal droid army to the location before the enemy was to arrive. Soon to be the slayer of the three most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, such tasks were beneath him.

 

When approaching the main temple, it was Shimrra who found him first. The gargantuan Vong was carting six unactivated droids at a time amongst his lengthy arms.

 

“Well?” He demanded.

 

“Come now, Shimrra. I think you can address me better than that.”

 

“Well,

master

?”

 

“Better, and since you ask, the trap is baited, the Jedi are intrigued, and their death clocks counting down.”

 

“Good.” He bluntly and arrogantly replied. Although less resistant to Nom Anor's will than ever now, he still used such times to emphasize his would-be superiority.

 

Then, it was Vimack's turn to query as to the success of his mission. She approached with twenty droids in tow, all dragged along the ground without respect and aided by the Force.

 

“Well?” She demanded, almost identical in tone to Shimrra just a few moments ago.

 

“Easy as shooting a sleeping Rancor in the head from ten paces.”

 

Shimrra sniggered, not at the joking way Nom Anor had phrased his answer, more at his willingness to give Vimack a quicker reply than him. From what Nom Anor had seen, the two barely spoke to each other, only the Sith churning out her orders and the slave wordlessly obeying. He would liked to have thought that is was the fear of him which kept the other in check, but he would be a fool not to have noticed his own occasional fears towards Vimack. Although her allegiance had been sworn, she was more than capable of dispatching with the two of them at the first opportunity which suited her.

 

With a gesture of his hand to make sure they still understood who was in charge, he instructed them to return to work.

 

Suddenly, himself and Vimack started. It was reassuring that his own Force senses could be as effective as hers, but this was no time to bask in his ego. Something had disturbed the forest behind them. A creature, spy or...

 

Before Nom Anor could finish his contemplations, Vimack launched her self over him and into the trees. Disappointed that she had found the exact source of the disturbance before him, he simply stood there and watched the foliage swing back and forth, a struggle inside ensuing. A vocal part of his mind imagined the assailant getting the better of her, allowing the Force wielding Vong to step in and show her how it was done.

 

Alas it was not to be the case. A quick blaster shot and a snap-hiss later and she emerged triumphant from the forest, prisoner subjugated by a tight grip on his hair and thrown to the ground before Nom Anor's feet.

 

He was Mandalorian by the looks of it, and definitely no Jedi. His clothing was basic and his age old. No part of him was meant to be a spy.

 

“Declare yourself.” He yelled down to the prisoner.

 

“Don't you recognize me?”

 

Nom Anor squinted his good eye to the cowering specimen.

 

“No.”

 

“I'll give you a clue ; Pedric Cuf.”

 

He knew the name alright, it had been his alias during the invasion of Hutt space, amongst other times. The name hardly helped him identify the stranger however.

 

“Answer the master or you'll have to answer to me, Mandalorian.” Vimack snarled.

 

Allowing his eye to wander, Nom Anor then noticed something. It was a small detail really, the type a Yuuzhan Vong executor had been trained to look for. In any case, a was a perfect opportunity to show his genuine superiority to the arrogant Sith Lord.

 

“The direction you came from, it leads from my ship. You stowed away, didn't you? That would mean you saw me on Mon Calamari and decided to follow. Any normal citizen would have gone straight to the authorities, so why...”

 

The answer dawned on him, articulating itself in a wide grin.

 

“Aww,” He continued with false sympathy. “You're peace brigade, aren't you?”

 

The flutter in his eyes was enough to give away the truth.

 

“

Was

peace brigade. The galaxy doesn't have much use for us anymore.”

 

“And does this ex-brigadier have a name?”

 

He hesitated before answering, but seemed to decide that it made little difference.

 

“Bal Dannecks.”

 

Nom Anor considered the name for a moment, but it still didn't spark any memories. He was probably just some lower level commander who'd provided back-up during a meeting between the Executor and his superior, providing a passing introduction in the vain hope that Nom Anor might actually remember it.

 

The real question now was what to do with him.

 

“I say we turn him loose in the jungle then take bets on how he can survive.” Vimack opted.

 

“An entertaining suggestion, but probably not the best. Should things go badly with the Jedi, we may need a prisoner to...ensure our safety. Have you seen anything resembling a holding cell left in the temple?”

 

“In the basement.” Vimack nodded. “I'll make it so only a Force user can get him out.”

 

Again gripping the spy's scalp, she dragged him off to the temple. Nom Anor watched until his objecting yells were muffled in the lower levels.

 

“I do not trust her, Executor.” Shimrra finally spoke, with so little obtuseness that Nom Anor ignored his incorrect term of address.

 

“Why not? She bows to my every order and never questions me. I wish I could say the same for you.”

 

“This is my point. You have my allegiance now, but it was something I did not give easily. I fought against it until I had no other choice but to obey. This Vimack, she follows too easily. When ruling the Yuuzhan Vong empire, do you know what I would have seen in that?”

 

“What?”

 

“Betrayal. Those who follow without ordeal will only seek to supplant you.”

 

Considering the possible wisdom in his words, Nom Anor allowed Shimrra to return to his work and made his own way to the deserted Jedi temple.

 

There had been many reasons to choose this place for an ambush. It was abandoned, the intrigue of visiting their former home would make the Jedi more willing to come, and there were more than a few tactical advantages to the area.

 

But none had compelled him as much as the chance to investigate the ruins for himself. Entering the Massassi temple, he gazed around and wondered which room had been Luke Skywalker's.

[DarthSion101]

Another good chapter, you can almost smell the brewing conflict in the air withthis chapter. Shimrra's advice to Nom Anor keeps the reader thinking, and speculating in their own mind. Very clever chapter.

[Trex]

And the next one. Enjoy...

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

 

It was the night before the end, when his plot would finally reach it's conclusion. Nom Anor had prepared as thoroughly as possible, even to the point of cleaning his outfit.

 

Both Shimrra and Vimack rested, leaving him to finalize everything. The battle droids were ready and both their ships hidden. It was only the Executor who still stirred.

 

Convincing himself that, powerful as he now was, he would still need to sleep, his head was rested upon a random Jedi's vacated bed. Comforting his forehead on his arm however, it very quickly became clear that something was wrong. As conscious thought drifted into dreamlike relaxation, the texture of the stone bed changed from hard material to moist flesh. It was an experience he had lived through before.

 

Flashing open his eye, he found himself once again in the nightmarish vision of Shimrra's former throne room. A faint red hue surrounded the throne, almost silhouetting the monstrous figure upon it.

 

“I'm trying to sleep, Vimack.” He called out mockingly. “I haven't the time for this.”

 

Fully aware of what the situation was this time, Nom Anor strode confidently up to vision of Shimrra.

 

The figure was not as it had been previously however. In place of the spectrum eyes were dull and lifeless orbs. They were even further from life than the Shimrra asleep on the Yavin moon. Reaching out his shaper's hand, Nom Anor lightly poked one of the great shoulders. The body's only reaction was to loose balance from the throne, fall forward and smash to pieces.

 

Staring at the loose sections of body scattered over the floor, he realized that it was not only Shimrra which was different. The entire room had the feel of something rotten, something dying and without long to live.

 

In the silence of the room, a single sound was all that could be heard. It was a sound he had only ever heard from one person, and sure enough it was her again, cowered in a shadowed corner with a sobbing face buried into hands. The hair was once again dark and distanced from anything resembling evil.

 

“Quane?”

 

She looked up at him with tear drowned eyes.

 

“Why?” She asked.

 

“I do what I...”

 

“No, not you. Why

her

? Why does she do...what she does?”

 

“I gather it is in the nature of her kind.”

 

“But look what becomes of that she touches. This was once a place for my thought, somewhere safe I could store the Sith creature.”

 

“And now it's you who lives here, trapped and subjugated.”

 

She looked around the room in memory of what it could once have been.

 

“I'm dying, Executor Nom Anor of the great Yuuzhan Vong. Vimack is too powerful, and these days I am too weak.”

 

“Then die already.” Nom Anor replied, a half-laugh in his voice. “It's obvious neither myself or the universe has any further use for you.”

 

She glared back at him.

 

“But I thought we were f...”

 

The last word faded before it was finished. He had indeed claimed to be her friend at one point, but as always it had only been a tool to further his goals. It had been close to pleasurable to manipulate the being known as Quanemlayne Valamercin.

 

But something was different now. Perhaps it was the knowledge that, in any past manipulations, it may been the combined force of Quane and Vimack that were contorting to his will. Here, it was only one woman. Almost a child in mind, and something which was just managing to bring sympathy out of him.

 

Just.

 

“What would you have me do, Quane? Hmm? You said it yourself, Vimack is far too powerful. It's only a matter of time until you fade to a distant memory.”

 

“I can fight!”

 

“Really. How?”

 

The vision faded back to darkness, and Quanemlayne's last words with them.

 

“I don't know...I don't know.”

 

* * *

 

It was more than cold and damp in Bal Danneck's prison, it was haunting. With his limited knowledge of the Jedi, he wouldn't be too surprised if it was haun

ted

.

 

The one who'd called herself a Sith had barricaded him into this one entranced storeroom, using her Force abilities to spear metal beams into the walls of the one corridor in and out. There were at least thirty barriers in various heights and at various positions, impossible for any person to weave through and escape but the most flexible contortionist.

 

If he'd still possessed his blaster pistol, it might have been possible to blow his way through the obstacle, but the woman had not only removed it from his hand but sliced it in two. She had even been sure to smash his communicator, not that it would have made too much difference this far beneath ground. There was very little he had with him beyond hope.

 

Perhaps stowing away on the Executor's ship was not the best choice he had made of late. Perhaps it would have been better to return to Master Skywalker and explain what he had seen. Perhaps, at the very least, it would have been a good idea to tell

someone

where he was going.

 

Passing his eyes around the room for any idea of an escape, he came back to the mound of wiring on the floor which once served as his hand-held comm. It was then that he upped and started. For whatever reason, the Sith was clearly not aware of such technical devices and had assumed that a sole thrust with her foot would have destroyed it. It may just possible for the device to be reactivated.

 

It would still make little difference of course, unless...

 

Unless he had a transmitter big enough to reach out the temple and beyond, or a huge array of metal which could be converted to one. There were a few scraps of metal littering the storeroom floor, possibly enough to entwine the metal barricade into one connected unit. It

could

work.

 

Fumbling through the faintly lit cell, he got to work.

 

[DarthSion101]

Another interesting chapter, can't wait for more. Although it makes me sad that such a good story is coming to a close .

[Trex]

Well if it makes you feel any better, it still has a little while to go. I have a rough chapter list drawn out and there should be thirty + epilogue.

[Trex]

The Saga continues, and the S*** hits the fan...

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

The X-wing fighter felt lonely and hollow. It was obvious enough why. Luke had insisted on R2 remaining behind on Mon-Calamari, much against his frantic electrical-tone objections. Without him, it somehow wasn't really

his

ship.

 

The reason he had chosen to do so was equally obvious. Whatever was waiting for them in the ruins of his old academy, there was still every possibility of danger. Something told him it was the kind of danger that only a Jedi could handle.

 

“Okay, how about this? What do you get when you mix three Jedi, a suspicious stranger and an abandoned moon out in the middle of nowhere?” Jaina sarcastically queried over the comm.

 

“Err, a trap!” Replied Jacen.

 

The two were covering Luke as his wingmen, each in their usual fighters, and had given him nothing but criticism since the idea had been proposed.

 

“There's really no evidence that it is actually a trap, Jaina.” He tried to reason.

 

“Really? What about the fake holocron?”

 

“It isn't fake, it's only broken.”

 

“Whatever you say, but in my book, breaking a fake holocron is a great way to hide the fact that it's a forgery.”

 

He had to concede that she had a point and could easily sympathize with their hesitations. This was partially because he had refrained from telling them the full story.

 

Failing to find the correct words to describe it, he chosen not explain the sensation the enigmatic form had radiated. The void in the Force somehow still tainted by the dark side, but at the same time not succumbed to it. Had he made the point, it was likely his niece and nephew would have refused to come, save with a minimum reinforcement of a few super star destroyers. Educated by war as they were of late, the two would not have been so willing to trust as himself.

 

He could only hope this was one of those times when trust was the right path.

 

“Something's troubling you, uncle.”

 

Reacting with just a little surprise, Luke glanced at his console to see Jacen had opened a private comm between the two of them, away from the ears of his sister.

 

“It's nothing for you to trouble over, Jacen.” In his heart, he wished he could force a little more conviction into his answer. As it was, Jacen maintained his suspicions, but allowed Luke his secrecy, switching the comm back to it's usual three way filter.

 

The computer beeped, indicating it's readiness to jump to lightspeed. All three tightened up their seat straps and sorted themselves in the comfiest position possible for the journey. Mon Calamari wasn't really that far from Yavin Four, but it would still take several hours to reach.

 

Fingering his lightsaber with the strange feeling that he was going to use it, he lead his family into hyperspace.

 

* * *

 

“With all the Force, I'd hoped it wouldn't be this bad.”

 

Considering it wise, the group had chosen to land their craft some distance and approach on foot. Jaina, propelled by enthusiasm, had been the first to emerge from the undergrowth and see the temple. Luke quickly followed, and immediately related.

 

Archaic and decaying as the temple had been during his time here, the Yuuzhan Vong had made it even worse. Whole sections of the various buildings lay in ruins across the ground, plowed down to make way for the organic constructions. The Vong material itself was barely noticeable, most of it already decaying. It was a fair assumption to make that the material, like anything that grows, needed constant care and attention. Without anyone to tend to it, even this living substance would slowly perish.

 

“Ow!” He heard from his side. Jacen, bringing up the rear, sparingly nursed a sore foot.

 

“You tripped?” Jaina asked, a slight laugh in her voice.

 

Thinking, Jacen turned to the perpetrator of his pain. It was a mound of earth on the ground before him. Prodding it with his still sore foot, the mud began to give way, unveiling a yellow metallic frame underneath. With Luke joining in, the two quickly removed the concealing muck until the form beneath was revealed.

 

“A battle droid?” Luke half stated and half asked.

 

“What's

that

doing here? The Vong hate droids.”

 

Jaina's words were an understatement.

 

It was just possible that this was a relic all the way back from the clone wars, only just found by the three now, although it was a stretch for even Luke to believe that not a single one of his Jedi students or the rebels before them had never come across this exact spot.

 

“I hate to say it, but this really makes little difference.” Jacen spoke up. “We're still here to meet your friend, and I'm sure there's a completely plausible reason why this is here.”

 

Nodding, the other two agreed. The droid was discarded and the group carefully continued.

 

Stepping into an open clearing leading all the way to the main temple, Luke stopped.

 

“What is it?” Asked Jacen.

 

The sensation of dark void had returned and was very, very close. To the edge of the clearing lay a tall mound of rubble, just higher than a human. With a slow, careful pace, a dark figure rose from behind and positioned itself atop the precipice. There was no doubt that he was the same mysterious being from the meeting a week ago.

 

“We have come as you asked.” He called, the stranger still some distance away.

 

The reply was laughter.

 

“So you have, Skywalker. So you have.”

 

Something visibly stirred in Jacen, a spark of recognition to the voice he couldn't quite put his finger on. Carefully, he took a step forward.

 

“I never had a chance to congratulate you over your glorious victory, did I?” The masked man continued. “For your people to overcome such overwhelming odds ; what an accomplishment. It almost makes me want to test you even more, to see how you can cope with a truly impossible challenge.”

 

It was now that Luke drew his weapon, the idea of this being a trap beginning to ring true. To his surprise neither of the others did. Jacen was concentrating far too vividly on the aggressive speaker, and Jaina's full concentration had shifted to something in the ground around them.

 

“Err, uncle! Are these mounds something to do with the Vong?”

 

He hadn't time to check. Jacen had continued his slow steps and was edging towards the cloaked stranger.

 

“Who are you?!” He demanded.

 

With two dramatic sways of his arms, the figure removed both his mask and hood. Jacen noticeably jumped, and Luke couldn't blame him.

 

“It's Nom Anor!” The younger Jedi yelled, unable to address anything else.

 

“Come, Jedi. Witness the wrath of a wronged Yuuzhan Vong, dismissed as a fool, but reborn as an untold power. Witness what can become of those you underestimate. Witness Nom Anor of the

great

Yuuzhan Vong, then witness your own deaths!”

 

Reaching into his robes, he unveiled a single buttoned device and activated it. With a whir of machinery that seemed to echo from a hundred different points, the ground began to vibrate. Luke quickly found what had caught his niece's attention. Mounds such as the one they had disturbed only a few moments ago were littered everywhere. With a shake, earth was thrown from each, and a baize-yellow head revealed.

 

Hundreds of battle droids rose on command and un-holstered blaster rifles from their backs. More movement through the trees told Luke that there may have been thousands.

 

With a single pointed finger from Nom Anor, every one of them turned to the Jedi and aimed the enemy in their gun sights.

 

[DarthSion101]

Another very good chapter, the sh*t has indeed hit the fan. Story just keeps getting better. Keep up the good work.

[Trex]

Next chapter, still edging towards the grand finale...

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

There was a reason Jedi reflexes were so revered, and Luke's were a prime example. With his nephew in a state of shock and his niece simply confused, he channeled the Force through his body into one swift movement.

 

In just under second he propelled his himself straight into the open doorway of the Massassi temple before him, just as the droids took aim. As they gripped their triggers, he yanked the other two out of the open area and through the air after him. The blaster fire ripped through open air with basic accuracy, accidentally hitting a few of the Nom Anor's own droids, but missing his family.

 

In one well considered movement, the situation had changed from an ambush to an attack and defense motion with the old academy as their fort.

 

“To the upper levels!” Luke yelled. The other two clearly had comments to make and questions to ask, but they also both realized this was not the time. With all three activating their blades, they coursed the Force into their movements and ran.

 

The temple was far from a refuge against the onslaught, but it did narrow the droids into much more manageable chunks. Between the three of them, the Jedi carved through a combination of attackers already in the building, but still with more making their way in. The group also had the added advantage of flawlessly knowing their way around, and were heading for the uppermost levels in no time, stopping only to deal with the droids if necessary, and often just running past them with an occasionally deflected blaster bolt.

 

The summit was enemy free, or at least it was for the time being. It would only be a short matter of time until the droids figured out the correct route and joined them.

 

Looking out the window opening, Luke could see the jungle around them and the extent of their problem. There were, as he had though, thousands of them, all the same make of battle droid and marching toward and into the main temple. Without a clue how to escape the situation, he turned to the others.

 

“Any ideas?”

 

“Yeah, we fight.” Jaina suggested. “We know this temple better than anyone. I say we take sneaky tactics, lure then into bottlenecks, deal with them that way.”

 

“Even the three of us have limits, Jaina.” Luke replied.”There are

thousands

of them out there.”

 

“Wait. You feel that?” Jacen had closed his eyes as soon as entering the room. Luke admired the idea and wished he had been the first to do so. Closing his own, the Jedi master reached out his senses and knew immediately what his nephew had noticed. Outside, there were two life forms to be felt amongst the droid army. One was the resonance of what he now knew was Nom Anor, the other was human and bathed in the dark side. There was also something else, a small void in the Force away from the perverted one of the Executor. It was a fair assumption that another Yuzhan Vong had survived, but in any case it wasn't what Jacen was drawn his attention to.

 

The third was in the building itself, and more importantly, neither Sith nor Vong.

 

“What is it?” Asked Jaina.

 

“Who. There's someone in the basement.”

 

“A Jedi? Someone we left behind?”

 

“No, they're not a Force user.”

 

“They must be a prisoner. If they've been around Nom Anor long enough they may be able help us.”

 

The plan was in each of their minds without a word spoken.

 

“Okay, lets go.” Luke declared.

 

“I'll meet you down there.”

 

Luke double took over his nephews words.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I have an idea. I've remembered something Anakin was working on. It should still be in his room. You two can handle yourselves, right?”

 

Luke was about to remark that it was Jacen he was more concerned about, but if the young man thought the idea was worth it, he was probably right. With nods between the three, they set off.

 

A large group of droids had formed in the corridor outside. With time as precious as it was, the three simply pushed simultaneously with the Force, knocking all thirty or so of them onto their backs and bounding over them.

 

With Jacen flying off on his own, Luke led Jaina down their own path, cutting through all that blocked the path. With many of the droids still heading up to the Jedi's last known position, the route was safer than he had feared. In just under two minutes, they had reached the basement.

 

“Hello?” Luke cried out. Before him was an interwoven series of thick metal girders, the source of his sensation coming from behind.

 

“Luke!”

 

“Bal?” He replied, confused at how the Mandalorian had ended up here but maintaining his composure.

 

“Get me out of here!”

 

“I'm on it.”

 

Indicating with his hand for Jaina to cover his back, he set to work hewing away the bottom bars.

 

“How in the galaxy did you end up here?” He asked in the few moments spare.

 

“I followed Nom Anor, he's got a trap for you.”

 

“Yeah, we know.”

 

“And, Luke. He has a Sith Lord with him.”

 

Luke momentarily stopped his work and looked at Jaina. If there was truly a fully capable Sith Lord working against them, the situation was hardly going to improve any time soon.

 

He removed enough of the lower barriers for Bal to crawl through, just in time to hear Jacen run down the stairs behind him.

 

“Nice of you to catch up.” Jaina sarcastically welcomed.

 

“Well, don't hug me just yet.”

 

His response was followed by a reverse turn and his lightsaber held point-up. From the stairway came the synchronized metal footsteps of a never ending tide of battle droids. The other two joined him in a row, ready for the onslaught In the brief time spare, Jaine spotted what Jacen had taken the time to retrieve ; a memory unit.

 

“I don't suppose whatever you got can actually help us here?” Jaina asked.

 

“Not without a very large transmitter. I was hoping we could...”

 

“Transmitter?” Bal asked, halfway through exiting his cell. “I think I can help. I've rigged one up down here?”

 

“Will it be powerful enough?” Jacen inquired.

 

“Will that make any difference to you trying it?”

 

Jacen conceded the point and looked for his uncle's approval.

 

“Go.” He advised.

 

With Bal quickly scrambling back through and Jacen following, that only left two to face Nom Anor's private army. It was theoretically possible for them to take shelter beyond the barrier as well, but that would never leave anyone to cover the last person through, leaving them wide open to fire. With thunderous echoes, the droids turned the corner into plain sight and opened fire.

 

The two lightsabers shot back and forth with accuracy from years of training. The droids fell, but did not desist. More emerged, fresh from damage and knowing only their master's bidding.

 

“No rush, Jacen!” Jaina shouted.

 

Behind them, Jacen worked as fast as he could with Bal's roughly constructed transmitter.

 

“So, what're doing exactly?” The elder inquired.

 

“Well,” He proudly answered, being sure to still shift his hands as quick as possible. “We have this droid, who, when the Yuuzhan Vong started attacking, got very worried about what would happen after he died. In order to help him, my little brother stored his basic mind into this small memory unit here, so it could be uploaded into a blank droid in case the worst should happen. He also made sure that anything already present in the new droid would be over ridden. Therefore, plug it into a big enough transmitter, find the right frequency, and...”

 

* * *

 

The droids suddenly stopped, leaving Nom Anor standing there, both angry and confused.

 

“What are you waiting for? Advance!” He ordered those surrounding him.

 

A moment later, and their movements restarted, although not in the way he would have liked. To his left came an effeminate exclamation, followed by the dropping of a rifle. Looking around, he could see every other following suit. One of them approached, still speaking in the usual simulated voice, but with the tone no longer the same.

 

“Excuse me sir, I hate to trouble you, but would it be possible to tell which planet we are on.”

 

Nom Anor cursed in his native language. Whatever the Jedi had done, it had affected every one of them. Seeing that the nearest hundred or so had spotted him and were approaching, probably to ask him the exact same question, he raised his hand and sent the closest flying with a wave of lightening.

 

Those still standing quickly ran off with a shuffling walk and cries of 'oh, my'.

 

Not far to his side stood Shimrra and Vimack, both understanding what needed to be done.

 

With a scowl, he drew his lightsaber and marched forward to the temple. Apparently, if you needed a Jedi killed, you had to do it yourself.

[DarthSion101]

Great chapter.......can't wait to see the final showdown with Nom and his allies.