Chapter 36

The crack resounded through the room, and sparks flew from the force of the blow. They froze for a moment, blue eyes locking onto brown; and then Jaina moved. She spun, twisting Anakin's blade around in a circle, almost dislodging his grip. He stubbornly held on and backflipped out of her reach. She didn't charge immediately, but shifted her footing and the grip on the hilt of her weapon. As he came to a standstill she smiled lopsidedly. "You might as well give up now, Anakin."

He returned the grin. "We'll see." He charged, swinging from the bottom left up, catching her blade at high right, leaving her left flank open. He took advantage of it, bringing a booted foot up at her midsection. At the last second he thought better of it, shifting his stance so that it made contact with her shoulder.

Jaina rolled with the kick, letting its momentum throw her into a one-handed flip. He didn't follow through, but waited for her to recover. "I'm sorry," he said, voice pained. "I forgot about the baby."

Jaina momentarily reached out, touching Hanna and reassuring herself that her child was unharmed. As expected, she was fine. "It's okay. You remembered in time."

Anakin still looked uncomfortable. "We should stop. That was too close."

Jaina started to object that she wasn't made of flimsiplast, but a voice across the room stopped her. "He's right. For now. You both need a break at least." Jaina turned and gave her aunt a look, but Mara's stare was unyielding.

"Fine," Jaina agreed, extinguishing her blade. She turned and headed to where Mara sat. Over the last few days Luke and she had been pouring all their energy into cleansing her of the disease. Day and night they meditated until she was, until it unavoidably multiplied, for a while only suffering from mild effects of the illness. It was still too premature to let her walk around, but Jaina had commissioned a hoverchair so she could at least leave their quarters.

Jaina sat down beside Mara's chair and took a long swig from her cantine. "That was close," Mara said softly.

"It was my fault," Jaina said, taking another drink.

"You're right," Mara agreed. When Jaina gave her a look she smiled slyly. "Your flank should have never been so open. You're a better fighter than that."

Jaina was stunned, and so said nothing, just sipped lightly on her water bottle.

"Don't tell me you didn't think about it. If you hadn't been pregnant, and this had been a real fight, you would be dead right now. He had you, and you know it."

"Sithspit, of course I know it!" Jaina cursed. She rubbed her forehead sadly. "How do you think it feels, knowing your little brother can beat you in a lightsaber fight?"

"I wouldn't know," Mara said flippantly. "But he's been practicing like a maniac, long before Luke commissioned the Jedi to help in the war effort. It got to where Jacen would refuse to spar with him. He said it was because he was fanatical, but I personally think he was afraid to let Anakin beat him."

Jaina smiled softly. "You know he never would have let him hear the end of it."

Mara matched Jaina's smiled with her own. "I know." She reached out then, taking Jaina's hand in her own and squeezing. "But that's not the point I was trying to make. How long has it been since you practiced, Jaina?"

Jaina chewed her lower lip, trying to think. Finally she sighed in defeat. "I can't even remember."

"Hm," Mara said. "Just like I thought. You can't let your Jedi skills slide, just because you're a big bad Imperial now."

Jaina laughed at Mara's jest. "I'm just so busy. I have much more use for studying starfighter tactics than lightsaber techniques."

"Do you really think this war is going to be won from the bridge of a Star Destroyer?" Mara questioned.

"Why not?" Jaina said.

Mara looked at her knowingly. "Now you're just being difficult. Do you think the Empire was defeated outside the Death Star? The Rebellion won the moment your grandfather realized his son was more important to him than power."

Jaina unconsciously ran a hand along her abdomen, caressing the life inside. "What's your point?"

"Her point, dear niece," a new voice said, "is that the outcome of war has always depended on the Jedi. How we act could change everything because we balance or unbalance the Force. You need to be prepared to do anything you must when the time comes."

Jaina turned to look at her uncle. "How long have you been listening in?"

"Long enough to know Mara's right." He then turned a reprimanding stare on his wife. "Even though she shouldn't be running around without supervision."

The paleness of Mara's skin and the slight blue tint to her lips made Jaina agree. She was better, but not that much better. Mara fixed Luke with a scowl. "You're not my keeper, Skywalker."

Luke crouched down beside her chair and grinned. "Ah, but you see love, for once in our lives you are powerless to stop me from being my natural overprotective self. Come on, both of you, Cilghal has decided it's time to spill the beans to our Yuuzhan Vong captive."

Jaina sat down next to Jag, folding her legs under her and letting his arm come to rest around her shoulders. Luke and Mara had collectively decided that she had had enough excitement for one day, and so they were waiting for Luke to return after taking her back to their suite to rest. Anakin sat in a chair across from them, lost in thought. Cilghal was keeping Nen Yim occupied, as she had been the since they arrived. She had instructed her –with Anakin's help—in the mechanics and design of starfighters, and more recently in the physics of bacta. Nen Yim had absorbed everything with concealed interest, understanding and then moving on.

"Why are we here?" she questioned for the fifth time.

"We will explain everything when Mas—Luke arrives."

Nen Yim crossed her arms and remained silent,reminding Jaina of a pouting child. With her eyes Jaina traced the scars and tattoos on her face and arms for the umpteenth time, and for the umpteenth time wondered at the self-mutilation. She couldn't imagine the logic behind such gruesomeness. But that's what they were doing, trying to get Nen Yim to really see her culture from the outside. To look at life from all angles.

Jaina turned and looked up into her husbands face. Quietly she said, "Would you still love me if I was disfigured like that?"

Jag took a moment to pretend to ponder the question. "The scars would be okay, but I'm not so sure about the tattoos..."

He was rewarded by a resounding punch to the shoulder, which only made him laugh. He grinned and kissed her forehead lovingly. "You know I would love if you didn't even have a face."

It was then that Luke decided to make his entrance. He smiled amiably at the gathering, and all other conversation ceased. Wordlessly he sat down on the couch beside Jag and Jaina, waiting for the importance of the situation to sink in. Finally, "Nen Yim, I hope you have found this experience educational."

"Very much so," she said, deadpan.

"Good. Would you mind telling me what you have learned of us?"

The shaper seemed to bristle at the questioning. "What am I, a crechéling in a nursery?"

It was Cilghal that replied. "Of course not. We just want to make sure we have lived up to our promise."

Very slowly, and grudgingly, Nen Yim answered. "I have seen the mechanics of your flying machines and the secrets of your healing fluid."

Luke looked disappointed. "Is that all?"

"What else should I have seen?" she snapped.

"Maybe you should have observed our value of life. Or perhaps our desire for peace. Or possibly even value we place on individuality and the natural state of our bodies," Jaina interjected.

Nen Yim threw her a withering stare. "Such practices go against our gods."

"And who has told you this?" Jag asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Have you seen these gods? Have you spoken with them? Did they tell you their minds? What proof do you have of their existence?"

Nen Yim seemed flustered. "I do not need to prove their existence to you."

"No, you don't," Luke said. "We just want you to prove it to yourself."

She fumed quietly for a tense moment, eyeing each one of them in turn. Then, "What of it?"

"Will you at least tell us you have seen reason in what we do, not just the mindless barbarity that has so far exemplified the Yuuzhan Vong incursion?"

Nen Yim raised her chin. "I will confess nothing." Jaina inwardly smiled. Had she been wholly adverse to what they were saying she would have openly said so.

"We care for all life, even Yuuzhan Vong lives," Luke continued. "We have not harmed you, and will not no matter what you answer. You cannot with an honest heart say that the way your people are living right now is the best for them, after seeing the love and prosperity between us. Did you ever know your family, Nen Yim?"

The shaper swallowed, hard. "No."

"I thought not," Luke said. "Then you have never known the love we have. Can you candidly so you have no desire to do so?"

Her expression remained stoic, unyielding. She made no move to reply. Luke kept going. "If you stay here, if you remain with us and help us, I know I would always consider you a part of my family."

Nen Yim looked aghast. "You would ask me to fight against my own kind?"

Cilghal shook her huge bulbous head. "Not defeat them; save them. Save them from themselves. Because even if you manage to overcome us, your society will crumble from within if not held together by love and a common bond. A civilization focused on nothing more than death and personal gain will never stand."

The Vong woman was beginning to take on a frightened air. "You lie."

"You know we speak the truth," Jag said. He looked pointedly at Luke, who nodded his assent. "And to prove it we are going to be completely truthful with you now. My name is Jagged Fel, and I am a general in the Imperial Navy. I am the one you tried to kill in the swamps of Ramella."

Jaina went next. "My name is Jaina Solo-Fel. I'm a Jedi Knight and also a general in the Imperial Navy."

They each went around in a circle, telling their true and full names and their rank within their respective governments. What was most surprising was Nen Yim's obvious like of surprise or interest. "You don't seem surprised," Cilghal observed out loud.

Ne Yim shrugged. "I figured as much."

There was a stunned silence. Jaina would have questioned her further on the subject, but Luke continued on with the previous inquiry. "That is beside the point. We need your help, Nen Yim, in more than one way. And even if you will not help our governments, I would wish you would aid me in a more personal request."

"What?" she asked icily, suspiciously.

"My wife is suffering from a deadly Yuuzhan Vong disease. If she is not soon cured, she will die. Being a shaper, I hope you have the ability to remedy the poison injected into her system." Luke seemed to hold his breath in anticipation, the whole room did, waiting for Mara's fate.

Finally she stood. "I must think long on this. Will you grant me the privacy I need to contemplate my decision?"

"Of course," he said unhesitatingly. "We'll await your decision until tomorrow."

Nen Yim's shaper's hand trembled as she stroked the villip in the silence of her chambers. That meeting had been far too personal for her liking, had touched to deep under the flimsy surface of her beliefs. She was so relieved to be out of their presence where she could reconstruct the neat walls around her mind. She never wanted to feel so helplessly bereft again.

Eventually Nom Anor's distorted face appeared in her palm. "Ah, you have fresh news?"

"They have revealed themselves and their intentions to me," she said hurriedly. "It seems their whole design has been to get me to agree to heal Skywalker's wife."

Nom Anor smiled wickedly. "This is too perfect. They are actually going to give you access to her genetic material? To everyone's"

"I suppose if I agree I could ask for reference samples from everyone," she said carefully.

"Well, there's only one thing to do then," he said matter-of-factly. "We poison them all."