They had been too late; the war was over, the Galactic Alliance had won, but they were too late.
The great and legendary Jedi Master Luke Skywalker - husband, brother, father, uncle - was now dead.
Jacen and the rest of his family - his father Han, mother Leia, sister Jaina, and aunt Mara - had all rushed into the Falcon's medbay and reached Luke's side when he looked at all of them with weakened eyes.
"There is no death; there is only the Force," he croaked. "I love you all."
And his eyes slowly shut as his life left him, leaving only the shell of his body behind.
A moment of stunned silence passed; and Mara was the first to break down into tears as she collapsed on top of her husband's corpse. Leia went next, joining her sister-in-law as they covered themselves over Luke's body in uncontrollable sobs. Jaina fell between her mother and aunt and wept like them; and Han was last, encompassing the three women beneath him as he, too, cried over his brother-in-law's loss, just as he did when Chewie and Anakin died earlier in the war.
Jacen, however, remained in place behind all of them, unable to do anything but breathe as he stared at his family grieving over his uncle's loss.
He had failed Luke, Jacen realized; and worst of all, he failed his family. They had made it this far into the war, having endured Chewbacca and Anakin's losses at the beginning and halfway points of the conflict, only to suffer one final defeat at the very end. Even in the throes of victory, with Shimrra and Onimi both dead, the Yuuzhan Vong now surrendering to the Galactic Alliance, and Zonama Sekot bringing down Vong ships within her gravitational grasp, the Skywalker-Solo family had suffered one final blow, one final stab in the heart thanks to the invaders. They had endured those losses, narrowly avoiding any further ones as they fought on, until the bitter end; it wasn't even so close to the finish line, as was the case when Admiral Ackbar died prior to the Galactic Alliance launching their invasion for Yuuzhan'tar, but it was just after.
It was unfair, Jacen told himself. It was unfair.
And Jacen, who had felt that he could save his uncle by concocting a serum to vanquish the amphistaff poison that Shimrra had introduced into Luke's system, had not had the time to use the same technique that Vergere had known for so long. Vergere had used that technique to help cure Mara of the coomb spore virus that Nom Anor had introduced into her system while Jacen had been unable to do the same for his uncle.
Now Luke was gone, and Jacen didn't know what to do. His Master, his teacher, his uncle, with whom he had been so close to for so long, through thick and thin, had died because Jacen wasn't there in time for him. He thought they could avoid another loss like Chewie and Anakin; but no, even after emerging victorious, the Yuuzhan Vong just had to leave one final impact against the Skywalkers and Solos, and they took the greatest of them from his family.
What use had it been when Jacen achieved oneness with the Unifying Force to kill Onimi? Just so that the galaxy could be saved? So that the war could finally end with peace? What good was it when Luke had been taken from all of them?
But Jacen knew that, ultimately, what was on his mind was the exact same thing that his father had in mind when Chewie died on Sernpidal all those years ago; he was blaming himself for something that he was not responsible for because he felt the same thing that everyone else in his family was suffering right now. Luke had went up against Shimrra, the false Supreme Overlord poisoned him, and Luke killed him; even if Jacen were to succumb to the dark side of the Force - of which the Unifying Force declared that there was no such thing - Luke's killer was already dead, so revenge wasn't even something that could be accomplished now.
All Jacen could do now was grieve, and he stood there, feeling isolated from his own family, even though he could just as well join them over Luke's loss, as he felt that he was unworthy of joining them in their mourning, having failed to save his uncle from a death that could have been easily averted.
Beyond the threshold, behind Jacen and his grieving family, stood C-3PO and R2-D2, watching the spectacle with sorrowful spirits.
"You know, Artoo," Threepio said, "at times like these... I feel glad that I am not able to experience the emotions that humans feel."
Artoo gave a grim imitation-purr in response.
.
Shoving hard against the door leading out of the escape pod, Nom Anor grunted and fell out in a heap upon the debris-strewn, yorik coral-covered ground of Vongformed Coruscant. It had been difficult to pilot this escape pod away from its point of origin with one hand, Nom Anor thought, but he had made it, in spite of the bone-jarring crash that occurred upon landing thanks to the impact wave when Onimi's ship self-destructed. It had caused Nom Anor's pod to veer off course from a safe landing, so he was lucky to be alive now.
As lucky as he could be considering that there was an extra escape pod aboard Onimi's escape vessel; he had lied to the Solos when he told them that he wanted nothing more to do with the galaxy after the war had ended. He had simply not wanted to be taken up for the crimes that he had committed against the New Republic and the Skywalker-Solo clan; for all the cowardice that had been his stigma, not only as a Yuuzhan Vong but as a sentient being in general, Nom Anor wasn't so scared as to actually commit suicide, a true coward's way out.
With his one remaining hand - the other having been lopped off by Leia Organa Solo back in Onimi's escape ship before it exploded above - Nom Anor shoved himself back to his feet and looked at his surroundings. Like the rest of the planet that the Yuuzhan Vong took to calling Yuuzhan'tar, this area of the planet was coated in the same artificial vegetation as the rest of the world. However, there were no familiar landmarks, destroyed or otherwise, that Nom Anor could clearly identify; but wherever he was, he figured, he must have been far from the seat of power where Shimrra's Citadel had been stationed, so at least there would be little to no attention on this area of the planet. He never had enough time as Prefect of Yuuzhan'tar to really get himself familiar to the planet, he thought... or rather he didn't make time, what with the circumstances of the closing days of the war.
Around him, buildings that were covered by the Yuuzhan Vong's terraforming had been leveled thanks to the Battle of Yuuzhan'tar, and bodies of Galactic Alliance military personnel, Peace Brigade, and Yuuzhan Vong, along with the remnants of ships from both sides, lay strewn all around him. Above, their silhouettes outlined through the atmosphere that separated the planet from the vacuum of space, very few Yuuzhan Vong warships remained as revealed by Coruscant's sun, and none of those ships were firing upon the similarly docile GA vessels that remained a significant force.
Nom Anor grimaced despite himself. So Nas Choka must have seen Onimi's ship blow up, assumed that the Supreme Overlord had died in the blast - which, in a sense, was quite true, Nom Anor reminisced with disgust - and knowing that there had been no further reason for the Yuuzhan Vong to fight, he ordered the ceasefire.
Yes, Nom Anor had contributed to the downfall of the mainstream Yuuzhan Vong order that had been carried out by Shimrra - really Onimi, Nom Anor reminded himself with loathing of the Shamed Ones - with his propagation of the Shamed Ones' Jeedai heresy as Yu'shaa the Prophet. But, just as he felt when he saw GA soldiers and Yuuzhan Vong Hunter battle droids occupying Shimrra's Citadel for that brief time, something in him felt ashamed that he had betrayed his people like this.
Had Nom Anor been a more nobler being, he would have felt regret that he didn't allow himself to die aboard Onimi's ship when it exploded. As it was, though, he knew that there would be tough times ahead, possibly tougher times than any Nom Anor had faced during the war. He felt that for all the humiliation and degradation that he felt when he had scurried among the Shamed Ones following the disastrous Battle of Ebaq 9, which had caused Nom Anor to flee for his life out of fear for being executed under Shimrra's command for the blunder that the battle turned out to be, the cowardly Yuuzhan Vong felt that this would be a time in which he would fear for his life more than ever.
This time, there were no Shamed Ones that he could scurry to; even if he were to be welcomed back as Yu'shaa the Prophet, he would almost immediately receive the attention of the Galactic Alliance, and even if the Shamed Ones were to protest for the sake of their savior, the GA would have no problems arresting him for his war crimes and hauling him off to a sentence that would most certainly lead to an execution.
So, hoping that he had not been spotted by the sensors of any of the GA ships above, he hurried away toward a nearby dilapidated building. Once he was inside, he saw that there was a set of stairs ahead of him that led down into the depths of the planet.
Nom Anor groaned to himself. So it was back to the underworld again, he thought wearily. Maybe he should have just let himself die back aboard Onimi's ship, he half-thought.
But the value that Nom Anor held for his own life was immediately tested by what happened next.
Behind him, the cowardly Yuuzhan Vong heard the shuffling of footsteps and the heavy breathing of someone else. Nom Anor whirled around and found a disgruntled Yuuzhan Vong warrior with a mixture of both hatred and defeat in his eyes.
"Yu'shaa the Prophet," the warrior growled angrily. "Or should I say Nom Anor."
Nom Anor was more curious than scared now; how could this warrior know about who he was? Even if Yu'shaa's face had been shown to Shimrra and the now-defunct Elite of the Yuuzhan Vong, whatever had been shown would have shown the ooglith masquered-features of the hideous Shamed One that Yu'shaa was to his people. The only time when Nom Anor had appeared as Yu'shaa without his masquer was during the Battle of Yuuzhan'tar, and he doubted that there would have been any warriors left who saw him there. And if there had, and this warrior was one of them, what was he doing here instead of where Yu'shaa appeared to help the Shamed Ones when the Battle of Yuuzhan'tar occurred?
"I saw you when you helped those Shamed Ones when you finally turned against Shimrra, when he commanded the World Brain to begin the apocalypse of Yuuzhan'tar," the warrior elaborated, as if reading Nom Anor's mind. "And I came here, after Warmaster Choka's announcement that the war had ended and the infidels had won, to see what had happened to my creche-brother."
He turned and pointed to one of the innumerable Yuuzhan Vong bodies scattered around outside. The particular body that the warrior was indicating had his throat slit, and a bloodied couffee was clutched in his right hand, as if sheer effort of will disallowed the now-dead warrior from releasing the weapon even in death.
"He died because of you, traitor!" the warrior before Nom Anor screamed. "He took his own life, just as many other Yuuzhan Vong have when Nas Choka reminded us that there was no point in fighting on when the gods had abandoned us!"
"You do not know that," Nom Anor said, his voice surprisingly calm considering the less-than-implied threat that the warrior was offering. "He may have died fighting the infidels; perhaps he had his throat slit by a Shamed One's couffee."
The warrior growled even deeper as his anger increased. "He took his own life. I know it. And it was because of you and your Jeedai heresy that he has died without honor and without the blessing of the gods."
Nom Anor didn't know why, given the circumstances, but he snorted in derision. "The gods never were, warrior. You, your creche-brother, and the rest of your class had been fighting for an empty cause from the very beginning."
The warrior's eyes widened suddenly, and his growl turned into a full-on scream as he rushed at Nom Anor, his own couffee driving straight for the treacherous Vong's throat.
But Nom Anor flickered his eyelid slightly and then had his plaeryin bol, his false eye, spit out a substantial amount of poison right in the incoming warrior's face. The warrior fell to the ground, his entire body immediately rendered numb, and he died bare seconds later from the venom's deadly effects.
Nom Anor half-smiled; on the one hand, he was glad to let off a little steam. On the other hand, he had only wished that he could have controlled the poison in his plaeryin bol itself so that it had only paralyzed the warrior; that way, he could have beat him to death, release his frustrations and anxieties from all that had happened today, before scurrying away like the underdwelling creatures beneath him.
But he decided to do it anyway; he wailed on the corpse, eventually screaming from those frustrations and anxieties, and once he was done, his one hand was incredibly sore, bruised, and even bloodied, though from the black blood of the warrior that he had poisoned, and Nom Anor was panting heavily from the effort. The dead warrior's face itself, however, was so badly bloodied and mangled that it scarcely resembled a Yuuzhan Vong anymore (though it could pass for a Shamed One, Nom Anor thought).
Nevertheless, he had his time to let his emotions get the better of him; now was the time to scurry for safety back in Coruscant's underworld. So he turned back and hurried down the staircase and into the darkness below.