AT THE CLOSE
Crimson wasn't a colour one would usually associate with clouds, yet the clouds of Kashyyyk had burned red and gold for the past day and a half. Fiery plumes of smoke that had minds of their own rose up from the sea of writhing, jeering bodies below, the dark grey columns tinged with orange and scarlet, and death.
The burnings had started.
I stood at the head of the thrashing crowd; back as straight as a wroshyr trunk, arms held firmly at my sides. Three thin, wooden stakes as tall as trees sat in the clearing in front of me atop a wide, reinforced platform made of duracrete and treated wood. They stared back, ominous and silent in their glory, the area surrounding them still smoldering black and gold from the last hour's example. Fresh bundles of kindling were piled high on one side, the worn handle of a readily used pitch fork jutting out of the top, itself a warning of what was about to come, to continue.
The tingle of chains rattling in the distance caused the crowd behind me to break out in an uneasy murmur, but all I did was stand my ground, back rigid, mind considerably blank despite the onslaught of fear, disgust and absolute jubilation from the life around me. I heard one female nearby utter a prayer in fluid Huttese, her thick drawl husky as she struggled to keep her emotions in check, while those close to her lent insults and whistled applause to the great fog of sound hanging heavy in the clearing.
As the rattle grew closer, the roar of the crowd grew in magnitude as well, rising to a frenzied crescendo of malice, vengeance and despair. Soon I could no longer distinguish cries of pity from cries of adherence, as each individual voice blurred together to create one loud, unruly buzz.
The body beside me shifted uncomfortably: Boson Yassar, the representative for the Galactic Alliance, was obviously not at ease with the nature of the day's events. He'd been sent to oversee the unprecedented burnings of Kashyyyk by the Supreme Head himself, Jacen Solo, my brother and superior in every manner of the word.
I was not required to be present, but with all that I had seen in the galaxy over my many years of faithful service to the cause, there was no way I would miss this; not for all the gold on Coruscant. For too long I had fought against the greatest evils the galaxy could throw at me; for too long I had been forced to watch as my friends, my family, those that I revered the most, perished in war after pointless war.
If there was ever to be a day of reckoning, a day where those who had been most affected by the ills of the on-going sieges could pay tribute to those they had lost with a lick of fire and a steadfast wind, then I would be a part of that in a heartbeat.
And now I was.
To my left, the lean, towering form of the wookiee Lowbacca twitched beneath his heavy, black robes of state. His hairy body was covered almost from head to toe in the thick, dark fabric, his monstrous face concealed under the pointed executioner's hood. He, too, was itching for this ceremony to begin. I could feel his Force aura pulsing with agitated joy, and his beady eyes shone as bright as beacons through the small slits in his hood.
At long last, the rattle of the chains of the prisoners became so loud that it almost drowned out the rumble of the crowd, and from the edge of the great wroshyr forest, the very first of those condemned to death emerged into plain sight.
The scarred face and split lips of the alien in front of me was the epitome of heresy in my eyes, and also in the eyes of nearly every inhabitant of the Galactic Alliance, living and dead. As it drew nearer it sneered at all those present and spat on the ground at our feet, laughing harshly as if it feared nothing at all, not even death.
This act of defiance angered me more than it should. I knew I should not let this piece of bantha fodder get under my skin – especially since I had won and it had lost on a most mammoth scale – but as the fury in my core continued to boil, I found I simply couldn't help myself.
With a crack that resonated around the throng of beings and overhanging canopy of green, I backhanded the beast, letting my stinging strike linger on the scarred skin; another display that I was strong and they were weak.
The murmurs of disquiet behind me turned to gasps of horror as the lingering crowd slowly awakened to what I had done, but none rebuked me for my outburst. Not even the executioner Lowbacca, who was eying me with quiet dissent, uttered so much as a disapproving growl.
He knew as well as everyone else present that my brief lapse of indifference was nothing compared to the horrors these creatures would experience today. It was of little consequence what happened to them at this point. If I were to take a vibroblade or lightsaber to one or all of them, the only reprimand I would receive from anyone would be that they were disappointed I had not allowed the aliens the death they deserved.
I nodded once to the bulk of executioner on my left, a silent apology for my actions, and a sign that it was time to begin what we'd all gathered to witness. The wookiee growled in understanding and waved one large, clawed paw at the masked guards who were leading the shackled prisoners to their fate.
In perfect unison, the first three aliens were unhooked from their train of death and lead towards the high platform with the muzzle of a blaster pistol pressed into the small of their backs. I straightened my posture in the front line as the heretical beasts neared the trio of stakes in the very centre of the stage, and the horde of citizens behind let out whoops of joy, shaking fists and pieces of cloth in the air in celebration.
Each of the creatures was chained and strapped to the stakes by the guards, piles of fresh kindling heaped at their disfigured feet. I stood, chest puffed out with immense pride, as Lowbacca took his place on the platform, an oversized mallet of the toughest wroshyr wood clasped in his furry hands.
With a flick of his wrist, the wookiee dipped the mallet into a cauldron of everlasting fire, lighting the tip into a ball of the brightest orange. The crowd cheered louder still as the native of Kashyyyk slowly lowered the burning stick towards each of the three mounds of pale brown shards, roaring with triumph when those same piles ignited into a wall of dancing flames.
All too soon, the writhing, pain-stricken bodies of the condemned monsters became lost in the wake of the overwhelming fire, and the cries of agony were quickly silenced, as the crackle of the flames grew so loud that it saturated every other sound in the clearing. The bellowing of the humans and aliens gathered was now nothing more than a dull drone, though I could still feel their absolute elation in the Force.
I allowed myself the privilege of a small smile as the dark, reeking smoke from the first of today's executions began to clear. It wasn't over yet, not by far, but the surface had been scratched, and it was only downhill for the heretics from here.
A spray of water from the guards saw the remnants blasted off the charred, smoking stage, a quick clean-up method to ready things for those next in line. Turning my eyes away from the scene directly in front of me, I scanned over the three who would soon take their places on the throne of death, doing a double take as my wandering gaze fell on the short, slight frame in the middle.
It had been many years since I'd last seen the young woman in front of me, and even longer since she had been a part of my life. Still, I'd be lying if I didn't say it was somewhat of a shock to see her here now, scarred, dirty, and chained in line to die along with the other heretical aliens who called themselves the Yuuzhan Vong.
She must have felt my interest, for she turned her piercing emerald eyes on me, those once sparkling orbs glinting lifelessly as they stared, almost unseeing. If she recognized me as I did her, she gave no indication of it, and simply continued to stare at me like I was nothing more than a pebble beneath her filthy feet. Her once vibrant blonde hair clung to her skull in limp, grimy clumps, her slender frame sheathed in a flimsy piece of cloth, alien in origin.
There might have been a time when I would feel something – pity perhaps – at seeing her in such a position, so isolated and so close to death; but not now, not after everything that had happened between us. She'd made her choice, just as I had done, and there was no going back, not for either one of us.
A woman behind me wailed as I gave the executioner the signal to take those next in line, her cries of "Innocent! Innocent!" uttered in stilted basic. No doubt she'd seen that one of the three was not a hated alien like the others, though what the woman didn't know was that the human female posing as a heretical being was far from innocent.
The woman I'd once known as Tahiri Veila had been dead to me since her shaping at the hands of the very aliens she now called family; the very aliens that were shortly to be the death of her. As soon as those barbaric monsters entered her mind, the Tahiri Veila I had known ceased to exist, and a new, traitorous creature was born.
Riina Kwaad.
That was who stood before me now, shackled, silent, and waiting for her end to come: the heretic, Riina Kwaad, not my Tahiri. The Yuuzhan Vong warrior who had cut down Valin Horn in all her fury, not the little girl who had trained with me at the Jedi Academy.
As the chains came off, she looked at me, a last, hollow glance from the woman who had once been everything to me, and was now nothing at all, just someone I had once known. In that moment, as our eyes locked, ice blue to the darkest green, a memory that had long been suppressed surfaced in my mind, a memory of a dark and scarred blonde girl, the last of her kind.
"Wait!"
The guards ceased all movement at my cracking cry, their blasters pointed into the backs of the prisoners, powered up and ready to kill should any attempt to make a run for it. They stared at me in disbelief, their shock hidden beneath the dark shrouds on their faces, but radiating in the Force for any Force-sensitive to feel.
Lowbacca let out a questioning growl from atop the platform, smoking mallet in hand, ready to light it again as soon as the two aliens and traitor were secured to their respective stakes.
I shook my head to clear it of all thought and took a step forward, arms outstretched toward the guards and their quarry.
"Wait," I repeated, moving alongside the guard who was leading my former friend.
"Yes, Commander Solo?" he asked with a lisp.
I paused for a second, contemplating how I was going to say this without undermining my own authority.
"I want you to take this prisoner to the back of the line," I said, my tone heavy and imposing. "She is to go last today."
The girl traitor narrowed her eyes in my direction and spat out a string of alien words, no doubt a curse of some kind, though I was hard-pressed to recognize any of what she said. I may have battled with the aliens for the better part of a decade, but I had never troubled myself to learn the heretical tongue.
"Phahg brenzlit!" she whispered harshly. "Phahg, kane a bar!"
That I recognized, and it was all I could do not to slap her for her insolence. I screwed my hands into tight fists and lowered my voice a fraction.
"Take her away," I ordered, pointing to the end of the line.
"Sir?" the guard queried.
"I said, take-her-away. Now!"
The guard jumped, as did half the crowd, who had come here today to witness death on a massive scale, not the audacious bellowing of the Grand Marshall's younger brother, the Commander of the entire Galactic fleet. Thankfully, I didn't need to repeat myself again, as the guard had begun to lead the green-eyed creature - who was now screaming her insults at me at a rapid pace – to the end of the line.
Once she was securely attached to the train of the condemned, the crowd's interest in her began to wane, and when the burnings started again with gusto, the little blonde female muttering curses at the end of the line was all but forgotten.
~*~*~*~
The crowd had dissolved long ago.
All that were left in the small clearing were Lowbacca, the executioner, the galactic representative Boson Yassar, a handful of guards who were still clearing away the mess of the day's proceedings, and myself, standing tall and regal, as always.
It was over; it was finally over. The Yuuzhan Vong had been exterminated, completely and utterly exterminated. The galaxy could rest easy from now on.
I could rest easy… soon.
There was just one more thing I needed to do today, one more task that I had to complete before I could consider myself at last free of the chains of war; the restraints of my suffering.
Off to one side stood a single being - small, scarred and dirty - her little ankles held together by heavy metal shackles. Limp blonde hair hung around her face like a veil, her bright emerald eyes staring straight ahead, unwavering and unfeeling.
The last of her kind, I mused.
The stakes were being torn down now; tall, black pillars of charred strength that had done their duty to the cause, and would not be needed again. I heard Lowbacca instruct the remaining guards to leave the centre pole still standing, his gaze flickering over to me ever so briefly. I gave the wookiee a single nod, acknowledging that I understood and agreed.
I could rest easy… soon.
When the last of the remains had been swept off the platform, Lowbacca ordered the others to vacate the clearing. They did so with very little fanfare, heads bowed and hands clasped in front in a solemn gesture. The wookiee gave me a reassuring pat on the back as he left, and then I was alone at last: really alone.
I looked over at the diminutive form that was Tahiri Veila and gave a sad little shake of my head. It didn't have to be this way, I whispered to myself as I began the short trek across the clearing to where she was standing, still chained and resolute in her stance.
If only her choices had been different, I wouldn't be forced to do this today.
She gave a defiant little flick of her chin as I neared her, but said nothing as I unhooked the manacles on her legs, and was again silent when I lead her towards the stage of blackened wood, the stage that would end her life.
I first tied her hands above her head, and then secured her feet to the base of the stake. The last of the kindling was loaded around her, coming almost halfway up her body because of her short stature.
She shivered a little then but did not close her eyes or shy away from my gaze. I stared at her a moment, searching her face for some sign of repentance, some sign that meant I didn't have to do this, to bring her to her death.
But there was no sign, nothing at all except the shudder that ran through her slight frame, and the intense determination that shone out through her dazzling eyes.
She was ready for this; she wanted it.
So I did it.
I could hear the crackle of the flames behind me as I walked away, could smell the smoke as it circled the platform, rising high into the sky and sheathing the clearing in darkness, but I didn't look back.
It was done.
It was finished.
The last of the Vong was gone. I smiled.