Fifty-One
([{I}]) ([{I}])
Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Doran's heart pounded violently, eyes fluttering shut to reflexively block out a bright flash as his saber blocked two amphistaffs at once. All around him, Mandalorians were engaged in close quarters combat with a swarm of Yuuzhan Vong. Defying the death-trap tunnels the Mandalorians had built, the Yuuzhan Vong warriors had burst into the holding caverns behind their tunneling grutchyna by the hundreds. The battle was raging on well into the third day, the afternoon light was fading and steadily turning into twilight. With the ceiling practically collapsed on them, the Mandalorians had been hard pressed to recover their initial momentum. There was no 'Yuuzhan Vong side' or 'Mandalorian side' of the battlefield. Everyone was just mixed, fighting for their lives.
The hum of Doran's shimmering, cerulean blue lightsaber cut through the air, causing a razor bug to flare incandescently upon impact. The Yuuzhan Vong were steadily advancing, pushing the Mandalorians back towards the mountain caverns that was their last fallback point. At the same time, the alien invaders were paying for every square centimeter with the blood of their warriors. Still, surviving magma-spitters and rakamat continued to pound the area, the deafening explosions of the Yuuzhan Vong artillery units only accenting the madness that had consumed the region.
Doran managed to get the better of one of the five warriors he was facing; bringing his lightsaber half-way down the warrior's head and then slicing a quarter of the warrior's head off with a jerk of his arm. He promptly whirled back around to deflect the four other amphistaffs as the other warriors lunged at him. Dinua's plasma pistol shrieked and dropped two of his opponents. Other warriors rushed her, and she was soon locked in a fierce fight, pitting her vibroblade against several amphistaffs.
The teenage Jedi finished off the remaining two warriors with expert slices, and then hurried to Dinua to return the favor. He was exhausted from the near non-stop fighting. His arms were protesting his every movement and his eyes stung with the sweat that continued to drip down. The energy he had received from the few hours of sleep he had managed to get during a lull in the fighting had already been expended hours ago. Yet, he received no reprieve.
All around, despite the full three days' worth of fighting, everyone was still facing upwards of six warriors at once. As the ceiling crumbled once more and let in streams of dying daylight, more warriors poured into the cavern. The sad truth was that there was simply more Yuuzhan Vong than there were Mandalorians, and every loss hurt much greater.
When the Yuuzhan Vong had first burst through the ceiling on the first day, everyone had been caught off-guard. There had been multiple breaches, and those nearest were badly wounded. Among the first to fall had been Clan Skirata patriarch, Kal Skirata. Yet, he had not gone down without a fight. As he lay broken in front of an onslaught of charging warriors, he detonated a belt of thermal detonators he had with him. The resulting explosion collapsed the tunnels and brought the others some much needed time to regroup.
Kal Skirata's loss had dealt a major blow to the morale of the Mandalorians, but the Ori'ramikade managed to rally the disheartened members of Clan Skirata just in time for the second wave of Yuuzhan Vong. The alien forces had been relentless, throwing everything they had at the Mandalorian fortress dwelling. Prudii Skirata joined the ranks of the dead, along with a squadron of Ori'ramikade, when they were simply overwhelmed by an onslaught of the enemy forces. The rush of Yuuzhan Vong, coming down both the tunnel, and through the ceiling, had left Prudii cut off. Even then, he and the Supercommandos had gone down fighting.
The next losses to Clan Skirata occurred shortly before the Yuuzhan Vong warriors pulled back for the night. In the middle of the close-quarters brawl the fight had descended into, a razor bug had decapitated A'den Skirata. No one had even noticed he was missing until the fighting had stopped. But he hadn't been the only one. All but one of Fi Skirata's four children had died in that day-long scrum. Nearly a third of the Ori'ramikade had also been wiped out by the deluge of Yuuzhan Vong warriors.
The second day hadn't started off any better. While trying to cover his brothers and sisters in arms from an unexpected surge of warriors, Fi Skirata and his wife were cut down by the onslaught. Bardan Skirata was out of the fight with near-fatal injuries sustained from a magma artillery strike. What Ori'ramikade had survived that day's worth of fighting, only lived to see more of the same carnage the next day.
Mandalorians were falling by the minute, as the Yuuzhan Vong seemed hell-bent on completely exterminating every last armored individual they found.
It appeared as if the Yuuzhan Vong were now making one final push to end the fighting, throwing everything they had at the weary and exhausted defenders. The suicidal attacks were working, wearing everyone down and taking handfuls of lives with every passing second.
The Jedi, too, were being pushed to and over their limits. And if nothing drastic happened, they would soon start joining the dead. As it was, Zekk was being attended to by a team of medics frantically trying to save his life. He had taken a blast bug to the chest trying to defend a group of Mandalorians, and then had been stabbed while he lay unconscious on the ground. In the distance Doran saw Tesar fall backwards with several amphistaffs sticking out of him, still feebly batting at his attackers.
Doran spun around in time to block another attack.
The meld was shrinking, and he cast about for his girlfriend, releasing a breath when he still felt her going strong. He cut down another Yuuzhan Vong, and then took one last, tired look at the state of things, his heart still pounding as he fought on.
Cut off from the rest of their allies by the onslaught, Tahiri and Klin-Fa were in a desperate battle to just stay alive. Tahiri's saber and amphistaff were working briskly in tandem, cutting down warriors in a deadly whirlwind. She and Klin-Fa were a lethal duo, snarling at the warriors in Yuuzhan Vong and moving in dizzying flurries of yellow and blue. Any Yuuzhan Vong who dared challenge the two didn't last long. The two young women weren't invincible though. They were covered in countless nicks and gashes, and their blood-coated hands fought to maintain a grip on their weapons. After the three days' worth of pitch battle, they were tiring fast. Despite a push by several Mandalorian units to reach them, they were still swamped by enemies and as far behind 'enemy lines' as one could get.
"This what you had in mind when you invited me to join you guys?" Tahiri said to Klin-Fa, panting as she half-heartedly batted aside an amphistaff thrust in her direction.
"I expected us to be winning a bit more by now," Klin-Fa said, favoring her right leg after her left had been impaled by two amphistaffs. "Also didn't expect to get stabbed as much."
"Almost reminds me of Myrkr," Tahiri breathed, her green eyes darting across the Vong-filled battlefield as projectiles from magma spitters rained down indiscriminately on the fighting forces.
"Oh? I've only heard stories, what happened?"
"Most everyone died," Tahiri shrugged morbidly.
"Forget I asked." Further conversation was halted as the Yuuzhan Vong pressed in on them again.
In another corner of the cavern, Jysella, with the blue lightsaber she had constructed on the ride over to Mandalore, was working alongside Sannah to protect a team of healers and medics. It was easier said than done. The Mandalorian wounded weren't in very high numbers, mainly because most of the wounds they received were instantly fatal. Those who did survive couldn't be safely moved without the healers and medics performing several precious minutes of emergency care.
"This is intense!" Jysella managed, a shaking hand bringing her lightsaber into position as another Yuuzhan Vong warrior charged their group. She tried to wet her lips as she rubbed her sweat-slickened forehead on her sleeve. Before the warrior made contact, though, Sannah's own blue lightsaber flew out and took out the warrior's legs at mid-thigh level.
"Tell me about it," Sannah replied, her Mandalorian armor was grimy and coated with blood and dust. She saw a large group of a dozen warriors forming up for a run on their position. "Medics! How much more time do you need?"
"At least two more minutes," came the reply, the medic in question had his hands deep in the chest of an injured Mandalorian.
"You'll have it!" Sannah shouted over the din. She reached out into the battlemeld and plastered a glowing neon sign above their position indicating their need for immediate support. Not that anyone was able to come to their aid. Lowbacca was surrounded by Yuuzhan Vong thrusting their amphistaffs at him. Corran Horn was on the other side of the cavern holding off yet another group of warriors. Valin Horn was in the thick of things by Doran's side. The other Jedi were acting as healers, tending to their own wounded.
"Sannah, we have a plan, right?" Jysella swallowed fearfully when no help materialized. The dozen warriors were now stampeding to them, ignoring the flurry of blaster fire that tried to cut them down.
"Yeah, don't die. Stay here and cover the medics," Sannah said grimly. She gently nudged her boyfriend to let him know that she loved him, and then met the Yuuzhan Vong charge with one of her own. Limbs began to fly everywhere as the dozen battle-hardened warriors were surprised that the tiny Jedi in Mandalorian armor would dare attack them. The surprise was enough to halt their momentum, Sannah showed no mercy. Legs, arms, hands, fell to the floor as Mandalorian fighting techniques were combined with the Force abilities of a Jedi to land maiming, near-lethal, yet survivable, blows. Though she wouldn't kill, and it often took more effort to land a non-fatal blow, Sannah had turned 'disarming' an opponent into an art form.
Jysella, emboldened by Sannah's success and heedless of her initial instructions, rushed in to help.
Corran Horn saw Jysella's charge from afar and his heart skipped a beat. Seeing your twelve-year old daughter charge a line of blood-thirsty, trained, killers with a lightsaber she had constructed only several days before, was just trouble waiting to happen. Only several seconds later, his worst fears came true. Corran yelled Jysella's name in anguish—his voice audible over the din of the battle and mingling with that of his son—when a warrior caught her from behind and drove his amphistaff through her shoulder. A second warrior's amphistaff pierced her front and came out at the small of her back.
Jysella collapsed to her knees, coughing up blood in the process. Sannah's fury echoed within the Jedi meld, and the Melodie Jedi quickly summoned Jysella's saber and became a raging blue storm. One hand after the other, the two blue lightsaber hummed and slashed. Kina Ha and another team of medics quickly moved to Jysella's side, ignoring the plethora of severed Vong limbs and groaning Vong.
Tahiri and Klin-Fa, who had only just gotten free of the corner they had been backed into, raced to form a protective line in front of the fallen twelve-year old. And as if a switch had been flipped, theirs and Sannah's combined fury eradiated outwards to affect all of the Mandalorians. The battle had gone on long enough; they weren't losing any more friends or family.
A Mandalorian battle cry went up and the blaster fire and explosions redoubled. Several of the surviving beam cannons blasted swaths of warriors into dust. Everyone reached for their last reserves of strength and pressed on. The Mandalorians surged forward like an unstoppable wave, spurred on by Jysella's plight and by their desire to end the fight.
The Yuuzhan Vong warriors, who already had nothing to lose, tried to push back. But there was no stopping the very angry Jedi and Mandalorian forces. Side by side, the Jedi and Mandalorians fought, pushing hard against the overwhelming numbers of warriors. The last Baffor grenades were used, and in such an enclosed area, the gas clouds caused the Yuuzhan Vong warriors to die in their armor by the dozens.
Visible battle lines began to form as the Yuuzhan Vong were forced back down the kilometers of tunnels and into the Kyrimorut proper. With the Mandalorians of Clan Skirata leading the charge, Yuuzhan Vong began to fall at an even faster rate.
The battle raged on, until finally, the only Yuuzhan Vong warriors left alive were those wounded or dying. The last blaster shrieked. The last saber whooshed back into its hilt. The last body fell. And then a deafening stillness rang out.
It was a victory for the Mandalorians and Jedi, but at what cost?
The only Jedi still standing after the day-long onslaught were Tyria, Tahiri, Lowbacca, Doran, Sannah, and Klin-Fa. Distracted by the injuries to his sister, Valin had been slapped upside the head with an amphistaff and had fallen clean onto a jagged rock lying on the ground, joining the ranks of the near-fatally wounded Jedi. Several medics were tending to him, and he was just hanging onto life. Even worse off than him was Scout; who was unmoving, lying deathly still in a growing pool of blood around her pale form.
Clan Skirata had taken the brunt of the initial assault and many times many had fallen. Now that the battle was over, there was finally time to mourn their losses.
The grief of the surviving members of Clan Skirata over the loss of Kal was made even more tangible by the loss of Mereel and the others. Jaing Skirata, who had been the last to see the patriarch, was seated alongside one of the tunnel walls, just staring vacantly at a three-sided knife which Kal had given to him in the patriarch's final moments. I couldn't be prouder of you, my son. Go and live your lives the best you can. That's my final order to you and your brothers. Go! Live!
Darman Skirata was kneeling by an injured Scout's side, his eyes watching the medics work on her with an almost desperate gleam to them. His face was stoic, but his thoughts were loud and clear as his eyes shown with repressed emotion. Please, I lost father, my brothers…and her. You can't die too. Not this again. Come on Jetii, pull through damn it. You've always been so tough. Be tough one more time.
Meanwhile Ordo Skirata attempted to distance himself from the loss of his mentor, as well as that of his brothers, by disappearing into his duties; reorganizing defensive lines. Nar dralshy'a, haar'chak! If the Vongese come around again, I don't want them adding to our losses. Move those boulders and reform that barricade. Not one more drop of Mandalorian blood will be spilt today.
The ever-joking Atin Skirata kept his forehead pressed to the helmet of Fi Skirata, as if continuing a silent conversation with the deceased. Once finished, he soundlessly passed the helmet over to Fi's only surviving son and solemnly walked out of the Kyrimorut and into the early night.
Corr Skirata had left the Kyrimorut immediately after the battle was over to locate Niner and Mereel's bodies. He wanted to ensure that they received the proper care and rites befitting of the heroes they had been in life. He found Niner, as well as Mereel's helmet. Niner's daughter joined him in a silent vigil as they shared in their grief.
And the last of the surviving Clone War era-soldiers, Komr'k Skirata, was busy enough trying to ensure that no more of his own family died. He and Dinua were by Jintar's side as the surgeons operated on the younger Mandalorian amidst the corpse-strewn battlefield. Dinua herself was cradling an obviously very badly fractured arm and doing her best to comfort both herself and the pale and shaken Komr'k.
Of the nearly nine hundred Mandalorians sent to defend the Kyrimorut, including the members of Clan Skirata, less than forty remained. In exchange, however, the attacking force of thousands of Yuuzhan Vong warriors, and the innumerous number of their thrall armies, had been completely decimated. Though the Mandalorians could scarcely endure another attack, neither could the Yuuzhan Vong.
"Receiving word from our fleet," an exhausted Tyria said weakly, forcing her legs to take her to the Mandalorians keeping up the defenses. "The Yuuzhan Vong have withdrawn. Smuggler Alliance supply and medical ships are already en route. The battle really is over."
"The battle maybe," Ordo said tersely. "But not the war. The Mandalorians will regroup, rebuild, and we will make the Yuuzhan Vong pay for the lives they have taken."
([{II}]) ([{II}])
Vergere and the five Jedi from the Galactic Republic sat in the back of a large amphitheater as all the Ferroans gathered for a momentous announcement from Sekot. Despite Sekot's warmth to these foreign visitors, the Ferroans did not appear to share the same feelings. As they piled in from all around, most stopped to give the Jedi scowls or hostile glares.
"Sekot seems more than willing to help, but the Ferroans don't," Jaina whispered softly.
"We'll have to convince the Ferroans somehow," Luke said. "They'll have to see the danger of the Yuuzhan Vong finding Zonama Sekot again if they stay."
When the last of the Ferroans filtered in, Jabitha, the Ferroan Magistrate, stood and assumed a position in the center of the stage. The low din that had filled the air ceased as she held out her hands.
"My friends, we have been summoned here today because it is the will of Sekot. As many of you know, for the last few days, we have been playing host to several Jedi. These Jedi bring with them a warning, but also a request. The Far Outsiders, the kin of those who attacked us only recently, have come to this galaxy. Our location is no longer as safe as it once was. The Jedi wish for us and Sekot to join in the fight against the Far Outsider, and when the war is over, to provide shelter for the Far Outsiders."
At that announcement, cries of distress, anger, and disbelief rang out from all around.
"I knew the Jedi would only be bad news!"
"They wish us to experience the Crossings once more!"
"We don't want them here, send them away!"
Jabitha held out a hand. "We may not have wished for them to visit, but they are here now. The fact that the Far Outsiders came before them shows that Zonama Sekot has truly been located once again."
"Sekot can defend us, let the Jedi fight their own war," another Ferroan growled out.
"I understand your pain, Darak," Jabitha said softly. "I also share your fear. For many a year we have found safety and solitude in our hidden corner of this galaxy. Much of that time was spent recovering from the anguish we experienced during the Crossings. But we have recovered now. This galaxy is as much our home as it is the home of the Jedi. And, as strong as Sekot is, Sekot is not invincible. Sooner or later we will face a threat that not even Sekot can handle by her lonesome. We need allies to ensure our lives remain as peaceful as possible."
"So to obtain peace, we have to fight for it? The Jedi bring nothing but violence and more death," another Ferroan scoffed. "Have you already forgotten the thousands that died en route to this location? Was not their deaths high enough a cost for the peace we have now? I say we run, run and hide like we did before. Sekot is older now and can protect us better. "
"There are only so many places we can hide, Senshi," Jabitha said. "Only so long we can run."
"What is Sekot's will, then?" Rowel, a male Ferroan bora farmer, asked. "Has Sekot decided to help these Jedi?"
Jabitha gazed upwards at the speaker. "Sekot wishes all of us to come to a consensus first. Sekot does not want to force a decision on us that will impact all of our lives. If, after hearing the Jedi and reviewing all of the facts, we decide as a people not to help the Jedi or the people of the galaxy, than Sekot will respect our wishes. Of course, the reverse is also true. If we agree to help the Jedi and allow the Far Outsiders to live among us on Zonama, Sekot will support our decision and do its best to aid us in that endeavor. Either way, our future is in our hands. We can continue to run and hide, or rejoin the galaxy once more and end a great war that has caused much suffering."
"We don't need to hear the Jedi speak. They can only bring bad tidings to us!"
"Sekot can protect us!"
"Jedi go away!"
"My friends!" Jabitha stressed. "Please, at least give them a chance to explain themselves before you pass judgment. As recent events have shown, more will only come, Far Outsiders and Jedi, if we send this group away."
There was some grumbling, but the crowd quieted down.
"Will the Jedi Vergere and Anakin Solo please state your case for us?" Jabitha motioned to the two.
The next few minutes were spent with Anakin summarizing the war for the Ferroans, describing in great detail just why the war needed to end and what was at stake. Vergere then stepped forward to explain her time with the 'Far Outsiders' and why Zonama Sekot would be a good home for them. She, of course in her own riddling ways, then described the companions she traveled with now and why it would be good to heed their warnings. Overall, however, the two continued to make it known that the help of the Ferroan people was needed in this endeavor. That as strong as Sekot was, even Sekot wasn't all-powerful or all knowing. It would be up to the Ferroans to teach the Yuuzhan Vong about the myriad of life forms growing on Zonama. It would be up to the Ferroans to help the Yuuzhan Vong grow accustomed to a life of peace. Anakin and Vergere didn't exactly beg, but they weren't exactly subtle as they entreated the Ferroans for their help to end the war and their aid for what came after.
"You realize what you're asking us, Jedi?" The Ferroan farmer, Senshi, said softly. "You're asking us to give up this peace that we have known, the stability that so many have died for, for the trillions of others in this galaxy we have never met, nor want anything to do with. We were a part of your galaxy once, when Sekot was young. Your Jedi came here to exploit Sekot's ships. The Far Outsiders found us during their visit and attack. We survived, only to be chased away from our original homes by your metal ships. The Far Outsider visit could be attributed to a misunderstanding between they and Sekot, like you and Vergere have said, but it was the ships of this galaxy that gravely hurt Zonama Sekot and forced us to run. Why now, after all these years, should we assist a galaxy whose people caused the untold deaths of so many Ferroans, my entire family included? Why should we sacrifice the peace we have devoted our lives to just because some strangers come and tell us it's for the good of everyone else?"
"I understand your dubiousness," Anakin said gently. "All of you have lost much. This peace you have here is your most treasured possession. But please think on what Vegere and I have said. Now that the Far Outsiders have found you once again, times will change quickly. It is the hope of many of the Far Outsiders that they can live beside you, starting a new life, a peaceful life. The Far Outsider aggressors will have lost their reason to fight once they realize that they already have a home with Zonama Sekot, with you. You, and Zonama, represent the hope they have of ending the ceaseless cycles of war and violence that have plagued their people. We are not asking for Sekot to fight our war. Nor are we asking the Ferroans to sacrifice that peace that you have found here. We are asking all of you to honor those lives loss in the Crossings by sharing your hard-wrought peace, so that no one else has to die. Should you agree to help us, you won't just be saving the people of this galaxy, but those of the Far Outsider's galaxy as well."
"We are all on the verge of a new era, whether you choose to help, or to run," Vergere eyed the crowd solemnly. "Change can be easy or hard, but change is something you cannot stop no matter how hard you try. Delay, maybe, but never stop. You all share the belief of the Potentium, that this life force is embodied in all living beings, in every rock and stone of Zonama. Will you be so blind as to turn away from the countless others for the selfish need to horde this peace you have? Will you ignore the sufferings of the rest of the galaxy, shut your ears to their cries of anguish, simply to live on in an ignorant bliss? And for how long? The Far Outsiders have found you twice now. They will continue to do so. Fleet after fleet. Ship after ship. Sekot has already told you that Sekot wasn't able to stop one of their ships from escaping; and that was just a scouting patrol. Sekot can't protect you all forever. And when the rest of the galaxy has fallen to the Far Outsiders, who then will come to your aid? You have the choice to stand with the rest of the galaxy, or fall with them. It may not be in ten years, or even twenty, but you will all fall if you remain alone and isolated. Consider that in your deliberation. Now, the young Solo and I have said all that needed to be said. The fate of trillions now hangs in your hands."
Vergere motioned, and both she and Anakin walked away from the stage and back up to their seats.
Jabitha stepped forwards again, placing two large pitcher-like flowers on the stage. "We will have a vote now. Each of you has been given a token to signify your opinion. After deliberating amongst yourselves for the next few moments, when you are ready, place the token into the flower on the left to vote to aid the Jedi, the flower on the right to retreat further into dark space and begin the Crossings anew in search of a safer home."
In the low din that broke out as the Ferroans contemplated their decision, Mara leaned over to her husband. "What do you think they'll pick, Farmboy?"
"Hard to say," Luke murmured. "Senshi appears to have quite the following. And we are asking a lot of the Ferroans."
"What will happen if they vote not to help us?" Jaina asked with a whisper.
"Nothing good," Jacen said. He glanced briefly at Anakin. "Do we have a 'Plan B,' Little Brother?"
Anakin shook his head slowly. "All of our ewoks are in this tree. If it goes down, like Vergere said, so do we."
"We'll have no choice but to fight the Yuuzhan Vong militarily," Mara said reluctantly.
"Not to mention the fact that we'll look a little less godly in the eyes of the Freed Ones," Jacen pointed out.
The Magister was the first to cast her vote, placing her token into the red flower on the left. She was immediately countered by Senshi, who placed his token in the flower on the right. Others began to go up, one by one.
"What happens if the vote is evenly matched?" Mara said, watching as the number of people voting left seemed to be about the same as those voting right.
"The tiebreaker will be Sekot, of course," Vergere chortled. "Sekot may have told the Magister that Sekot respects the wishes of the Ferroans, but that is only partly true. Sekot, after all, is the consciousness of this entire planet. It will not do something it strongly disagrees with."
"Although it doesn't look like that will happen," Jaina said, as a swell of voters stood and gathered around the flower on the left to wait their turn to deposit their token.
"It's going to be strange for the Ferroans, though," Jacen muttered. "I mean, they're probably a community of a little over thirty or so thousand people. If they agree to help us, they'll have several million neighbors with a distinctly different culture and lifestyle. Some of the more conflict-prone Yuuzhan Vong might try to rally others against the Ferroans, seeing as the Ferroans will be in the minority."
"That's why I'll be staying here," Anakin said, earning surprised glances from his family.
"Anakin?" Mara raised an eyebrow.
"I've done a lot of thinking about this since we've come here, and I think that it's the right decision."
"So you'll stay here, with the Ferroans, with the Vong, by yourself?" Jaina said incredulously.
"I'm sure others will stay too," Anakin smiled. "Since the Freed Ones have become an organized government, more and more people have been getting to know the Yuuzhan Vong. Like the commandos from Borleias, or Danni Quee and Tekli. We can help make sure there's a smooth transition and integration between the Yuuzhan Vong and Ferroans, between war and peace."
"That's not your only reason, is it?" Luke said, his voice pained.
Anakin met his uncle's gaze evenly, his smile fading. "No, it isn't. It's been made perfectly clear over the past few weeks that my interpretation of the Force, coupled with my influence over the younger generation of Jedi, isn't a good thing. By staying on Zonama, I'll be removing myself from any sort of position of power or influence. I'll also prevent any schisms from forming in the newly repaired Jedi Order. Waxarn Kel's people have already begun distancing themselves. Hopefully, with me gone, they'll return to the Order in full."
"Anakin…" Jaina looked at a loss for words.
"It's not like I want to leave everyone behind," Anakin said with a faint smile. "Although helping the Yuuzhan Vong adjust will be beneficial in the long run. But the Order can't handle dissention at this time. Nor do they need a lightning rod that will draw the eyes of the media who will scrutinize their every decision. Especially not when the war is over and everyone is healing and repairing from the toll it had taken. The Order needs to remain strong, and if it'll be stronger with me away, then that's what has to happen. Besides, knowing Tahiri, she'll probably stay on Zonama as well. The Yuuzhan Vong are as much her people as the Jedi are."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jacen said. Having recently repaired his relationship with his brother, the last thing he wanted was to have Anakin go away. "Isn't there some other way we can keep the Order stable?"
Anakin shook his head. "I've become a focal point for the animosity of Waxarn Kel's followers, for the frustration and disappointment of the galaxy. Even before we left, I've heard people saying I had too much influence and power in the government. With me out of the picture, everyone can focus on what's important. And that's fixing up the damage caused by this war."
"But I'm on the High Council," Jacen argued. "You also have the support of Saba, of Master Hamner and Durron. Even the younger Jedi support you. You don't have to exile yourself just because a vocal few disagree with you. If we speak out on your behalf…"
"Don't," Anakin said quickly. "That's the biggest mistake the council can make. All you have to do is say that I've been place on an indefinite assignment to Zonama to help the Yuuzhan Vong. There may be a vocal few, but that small crack in the Order is all that's needed for a bigger fracture later on."
"And what about your supporters?" Jaina spoke up. "You can't seriously expect the others to stay quiet."
"Why would they have a reason to speak out in the first place?" Anakin said innocently. "Everyone knows that I support the Freed Yuuzhan Vong. And peace and prosperity is what the Jedi focus most on. No one will question it if I publically say that I'm staying on Zonama Sekot for the Yuuzhan Vong."
"I don't like it," Jacen shook his head. "I joined the High Council not just to protect this galaxy, but to protect my family too. Just because you have a different view of the Force, because a few people blame the miseries this war has caused on you, doesn't mean you should be forced out like this. What good is a voting position on the Council if I can't even shield you, Little Brother, from something like this?"
"Being 'exiled' as you say, to here, really isn't all that bad," Anakin glanced at the tampasi that grew all around. "Nice and quiet, a good place to settle down and have a family."
"With Tahiri?" Jaina said. Though she didn't like the idea of her brother being forced out any more than Jacen did, she had to admit that Anakin and Tahiri definitely deserved some peace time.
"With Tahiri," Anakin nodded wryly. "Don't worry so much about me, Jace, Jaya. No matter what happens, I know that the two of you have my back. Just trust me on this, okay? It's for the better."
Jaina nodded, but Jacen remained silent, his displeasure clear.
"Jace?'
Jacen forced himself to smile. "Right. I guess I'll have to step it up a notch to fill in the vacuum you'll be leaving."
"Sorry about that."
"So long as you're safe and happy, Little Brother," Jacen said, reaching over to place a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "You just let me and Jaina handle the politicians and Jedi-trying-to-be-politicians."
The Ferroan vote, which was only partly complete due to the thirty-thousand Ferroans that had to cast their token, continued. But it was clearly a foregone conclusion. Despite the initial swell of those voting to run, almost everyone else was waiting to deposit their token to show their support of the Jedi plan. Only an additional few hundred or so others voted otherwise, looking on in disbelief at the vast show of support at the opposite line.
When the vote was finally over, 'night' had fallen onto the planet again. The two flowers being used as basins to collect the tokens glowed brightly from their own bioluminescence; the shadows of the tokens inserted into them a clear sign of the results.
Jabitha took one look at them, then looked up to the crowd. "So be it. We have voted to help the Jedi and the galaxy."
A rush of wind and particles whistled through the amphitheater, and Sekot appeared in the form of a male Ferroan who strongly resembled Jabitha.
"You have all chosen to assist the Jedi," Sekot began. "I approve and support your decision. You have made the right choice." Sekot looked to the Jedi. "When the time comes, we will be ready. I look forward to having the Far Outsiders live here. Their own view of the galaxy should be very interesting indeed."
"Thank you," the Jedi bowed respectfully.
"You are welcome," Sekot smiled sagely. "Until the time comes, however, you are all welcome to stay here and learn more about this planet. Perhaps you can even plot out the areas which you think are the most suitable for the Far Outsiders."
([{III}]) ([{III}])
Shaeri placed her hand on the transparasteel window and stared at the burning world below with a pained expression. She was onboard the next-gen MC-90 Mon Calamari Cruiser the Alderaan's Fury, the flagship of Garm Bel Iblis' second-in-command, Colonel Kadra Bres. In the same room with Shaeri were some of the survivors of the joint Galactic Alliance-Imperial taskforce that had come to reinforce Mandalore. The fact that the large lounge was nearly empty was a testament as to how few had survived the bloody and brutal fighting down on the surface. Filling the cruiser's vast hangar bays were row after row of caskets. Docking bays were full of burnt and damaged fighters and gunboats, with engineer crews still working to cut out some of the bodies from the wrecks. Both the ground and space forces had suffered numerous losses, but that was nothing compared to the one and a half million Mandalorians who lay dead on Mandalore and its moons. Even in orbit, great glowing craters where cities had once been were still burning strong. The entire countryside was ravaged, with thick clouds of smoke covering most of the planet. Barely anything was left of the heavily populated moon of Concordia; its surface a pock-marked, desolate, graveyard.
"So much death," Shaeri whispered brokenly. Her hand curled into a fist as she pressed her forehead against the viewport. "Hapes, Borleias, Barab, and now this…this destruction. When will it ever end? When will my people learn that this isn't the way to create a future for anyone?"
"At least not all of the Yuuzhan Vong think like Shimrra's followers do," Kyp Durron tried to comfort the fifteen year-old Yuuzhan Vong teen. "Your people are learning, the Freed Yuuzhan Vong are making a difference."
"But not fast enough!" Shaeri whirled around to look at Kyp. "This war needs to be over, and soon. I pray for the day when all of my people are living together peacefully, in harmony with each other and with the rest of the galaxy. It's a dream I want to see so badly it hurts. And when I look at this," she gestured back at the ravaged planet. "All I can think about is how far away that dream seems. How can the war possibly end if the warriors think that killing others can create a better future? If the shapers think that their work is best suited by creating things that bring only death? If the priests and Intendant caste think that continuing this bloody crusade is the only way we can make a home for ourselves, to satisfy some perverted version of the gods we worship? How can we possibly hope to live without fighting when there is dissention even among the Freed Yuuzhan Vong? Already the defectors are fighting for power, trying to undermine Taan and everything we've been shedding blood over to achieve. I just want this war to be over. For there to be no more deaths, no more homes lost, no more wondering if we're going to survive into the next day, if your friends and family will survive. Just no more."
Shaeri finished her speech and sunk to her knees, tears trailing down her cheeks. Tahiri knelt by the despondent younger teen, wrapping her arms around her. "That day is coming, soon. Even now Anakin and the others are with Zonama Sekot. Even now the numbers of the Freed Ones double with every passing week. Your dream will come true, there's no doubt about that. And very soon, we will have that peace that we have fought so hard to get, sacrificed so much for. The Yuuzhan Vong and the people of this galaxy."
Shaeri nodded weakly, shifting so that she could rest her head against Tahiri's shoulder. "If you say it, my goddess, then it must be true. Yun-Shuno is wise after all. You can use your Force to see the future."
"You got that right," Tahiri muttered, keeping an arm around the younger teen. "And you and I will be on Zonama Sekot with all the others, just relaxing and enjoying the sun. Watching human and Yuuzhan Vong kids play together without fear or hatred."
"Watching warriors try to grow crops," Shaeri added with a small laugh. "And you and Anakin making kissy faces."
Tahiri lightly shoved the younger teen. "And you and Czalpak courting without any demand of a breeding cycle."
A flushed Shaeri looked up at Tahiri and stuck her tongue out at her, a very human gesture which showed just how acculturated Shaeri had become in her year and a half of living amongst the Jedi and their friends. Tahiri fondly rubbed Shaeri's arm. "You'll get that dream, Shaeri. All this fighting and warmongering will pass and a time of healing and peace will begin."
"Here here," Kyp raised his drink-filled mug in agreement.
When Colonel Kadra Bres entered the partially filled lounge a moment later and shared a brief kiss with Kyp, eyebrows were raised. The colonel stayed for only a moment, to whisper something to Kyp, before leaving the room.
"Master Durron?" Tahiri tilted her head.
"Jedi Knight Kwaad?" Kyp mimicked Tahiri's stance, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
Tahiri smiled gently. "I'm just glad you're happy."
"Blame it on you and Anakin and on all you young people," Kyp said, shifting as some color came to his cheeks.
"Us?" A pale, but bandaged and conscious Valin Horn said.
"Yeah," Kyp took on a distant expression as he moved to the vacated viewport to stare at the planet below. "During our adventure into Imperial space, I lost a lot of good friends. Some…their deaths hurt me more than I thought they would. I mean, I've lost friends before, but…Anyways, after watching Tahiri and Anakin, Jaina and Jag, and all those other cutesy couples I realized that I shouldn't be taking anyone for granted. Kadra and I had hit it off well when we met on Tatooine for Anakin's little adventure. When we met up again as part of Garm Bel Iblis' joint Imperial taskforce, well…" Kyp trailed off and smiled faintly. "I wasn't going to let another opportunity slip by me."
"I know what you mean," Tahiri said softly. "Back on Myrkr, I almost didn't kiss Anakin before he went off to do some stupid heroic act. If it wasn't for that magma spitter that shook the ground…I don't even want to think about where all of us would be right now."
"But like you said, things are turning out for the better," Kyp said, inclining his head at Shaeri and Tahiri. "Now if you'll excuse me, Colonel Bres has a bit of downtime; rare for a woman in command of a fleet of capital ships and several fighter wings."
"Go," Tahiri grinned.
Kyp tipped an imaginary hat. "As you command, Jedi Knight Kwaad." The Jedi Master left the room whistling a jaunty tune.
When he was gone, Tahiri's comlink chirped. "Tahiri, this is Leia on the Falcon. We're currently having Czalpak over for a meal. We've also managed to get HoloNet contact with the Unknown regions back up and running thanks to the efforts of Natua, Seff, and the other apprentices. Anakin has quite a story to tell. Would you and Shaeri care to join us?"
Tahiri saw Shaeri's eyes widen almost comically at the mention of Czalpak, and she couldn't help but chuckle. "Sure, we'll be right there, Falcon. Tahiri out."
Perhaps things were slowly looking up indeed.
([{IV}]) ([{IV}])
Jedi Apprentice Sannah of the Melodie, and Jedi Apprentice Doran Sarkin-Tainer, were both sitting on the blackened edge of the cliff-face by the Kyrimorut, just looking out into the dark grey sea. They may have been only apprentices, but titles meant very little in a war like the one they were fighting. Titles, however high or low, didn't shelter them from the death and destruction, from the loss of friends, or the other horrors of war.
Smoke continued to billow up into the sky, turning the sun a hellish red and blocking out most of its light. The sea itself was sprinkled with ash, debris, and the remains of shot down vessels. Bodies, Yuuzhan Vong and Mandalorian, lay strewn in the jagged rocks below; their blood staining the nearest tides red.
Not even the once pristine waters had escaped the carnage of the battle.
Neither apprentice said anything. What was there to say after experiencing the equivalent of hell for the past week? Even after the fighting for the Kyrimorut had stopped, they still had to clear out pockets of Yuuzhan Vong warriors from the surrounding area. And then came the equally tiresome and emotional task of clearing out the bodies to prevent disease from spreading. The two teens were spent, physically and emotionally. They just sat on the ledge, holding hands and drawing support from their powerful Force bond; needing to feel something other than the death they had been surrounded by for the past week.
Footsteps from behind them.
The two apprentices were soon joined by an equally quiet Dinua and Jintar. Dinua's arm was in a sling, and Jintar was covered in head to toe in bandages and bacta patches. The Mandalorian teens mimicked Sannah and Doran's actions, sitting on the ledge with one hand griping the hand of the other.
For the longest time, the four just sat there. The wind whipped around them; the smell of burning wood, flesh, and soil, a constant reminder of what they had just been through. The smell caused their hands to tighten around the other ever so slightly. The breeze passed by, and the teens relaxed ever so slightly. The sun was once again dipping below the horizon, marking the end of the sixth day of the Battle for Mandalore and the end of the battle itself.
Sannah shifted, resting her head on her boyfriend's lap. Dinua, in turn, leaned lightly against Jintar's shoulder, her own eyes fluttering close as exhaustion finally got the better of the super soldier. Jintar and Doran eventually stood and exchanged significant glances as they supported their sleeping significant other. They both managed to carry their girlfriends back to the makeshift quarters outside the Kyrimorut. Once they had placed their girlfriends into cots that had been set up, they slid in next to them. Barely a second later, Doran and Jintar were likewise asleep, escaping from the harsh world around them into unconsciousness.
When the four next awoke, the sun was high in the sky. Several atmospheric cleaning vessels supplied by the Smuggler's Alliance were floating over the Kyrimorut, sucking in the smoke and clearing the air. This allowed the sun's natural light to shine through, unfiltered, for the first time in days.
Doran rubbed at his eyes as Sannah stirred against him. He looked up at the nearest figure and smiled faintly. "Hi, mom."
"You are getting far too comfortable with having your mother catch you and your girlfriend in bed together," Tyria raised an eyebrow.
Doran laughed weakly. "Built up immunity."
"Uh huh," Tyria smiled. The heavy bags under her eyes and the way her faint wrinkles appeared more predominate showed that the past few days hadn't been kind to her either. "Anyway, I wanted to say goodbye to you and Sannah."
"Huh?" She now had Doran's full attention, while Sannah froze against Doran's chest to listen in.
"Kina Ha, and when Bardan and Scout recovers, have agreed to take the two of you as their temporary apprentices for the near future," Tyria explained. "I knew that the two of you would jump at the chance, so I'll be leaving you in their care."
"Really?" Sannah whispered in amazement.
"Really really," Tyria nodded. "They're more than eager to teach the two of you a few tricks from the golden period of the Jedi Order. Use this time wisely."
"Wow," Doran whistled. "Sannah, am I still dreaming?"
Sannah reached over and pinched him, causing him to yelp. "Doesn't seem like it."
"Thanks a lot," Doran muttered, rubbing his arm.
Tyria smiled fondly at the two. "Keep looking out for each other, you two. You definitely make a great team."
"Yeah, we do," Doran said, keeping his arms around the Melodie teen. "The older Jedi don't mind the two of us together?"
"They're all for it," Tyria laughed. "Remember, these Jedi have been Mandalorian-ized."
"Great," Sannah groaned. "A Dinua with Force powers."
"If only!" Dinua called out from the nearby cot. "Could you three keep it down? Trying to get some rest here."
"Looks like we'll be staying a bit longer, Dinua," Doran said fondly.
"Enjoy whatever's left of Manda'yaim," Dinua drawled. "I'm being shipped out with the rest of the fight-capable Or'ramikade to help take the war to the Vongese. I get to help free Ord Mantell from their clutches tomorrow. War doesn't wait for anyone."
"But your arm is shattered in five places!" Sannah protested.
"Nothing bacta and metal bolts can't fix on the ride over," Dinua shrugged. "Besides, I can still fire a blaster and fight with my other hand. I'm ambidextrous, remember?"
"Stupid Mandalorians," Sannah muttered. "Don't get yourself killed then, Dinua."
"I won't," Dinua's voice softened. She then grinned over at her bed-partner "Besides, I have to live long enough for my fathers to officiate my wedding with this big lug. Provided he gets better too."
"How are you doing, Jintar?" Doran said, tilting his head back to look at Jintar and Dinua's cot.
"I've got a couple more days of leave, but I'll be joining the others at Ord Mantell, or wherever else they'll be at, after that."
"You stay alive too, Jintar."
"Naturally."
"Tyria, where are you going?" Sannah said softly.
"I'll hang out with the Wraiths for a while," Tyria said. "And I'll let the Force take me from there."
"To places like Bakura and Mandalore?" Doran chimed in innocently.
Tyria scowled. "You're not too old that I still can't ground your butt Doran."
"But you're leaving me here with all these mean Mandalorians, isn't that punishment enough?"
"I'm leaving you with Sannah, unsupervised, with people who embrace family-making," Tyria retorted. "Doesn't that make me the best mom ever?"
Doran rolled out of the cot and quickly hugged his mother. "You are the greatest mom. I'm going to miss you."
Tyria returned the hug. "You too, Doran. You be careful out here, okay?"
"Sannah will make sure of it," Doran smiled, gesturing to Sannah.
The Melodie teen climbed out of the cot to join in the hug. "Of course I will."
Tyria held the two tightly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Alright then, I should go before I change my mind."
She took a step back and gave the two one last long look. "May the Force be with the both of you."
"You too, mom. You too."
([{V}]) ([{V}])
With the Battle of Mandalore finished and the Yuuzhan Vong withdrawn, the allied forces were slowly beginning their pull out. Only the flagships of the Imperial forces and Garm Bel Iblis's team remained, escorted by five Freed Yuuzhan Vong capital ships. Nearly a week had passed since the ending of the battle. The Imperials, Freed Yuuzhan Vong, and Garm Bel Iblis' taskforce had taken heavy casualties holding off an attacking force nearly thrice their size.
Yet, their staggered arrival into the battle zone had taken the Yuuzhan Vong by surprise. Cautious of a trap, the alien invaders hadn't fully committed their forces to meet these new attackers until well into the second day of battle. In a flash, the space battle went from strategic maneuvering and cautious probing attacks to an all-out onslaught and slugfest.
When the Yuuzhan Vong forces on the ground were defeated, however, their forces in orbit seemed to become demoralized; and for a good reason. Nearly a hundred thousand warriors and auxiliary forces had been sent to pacify the planet. Three quarters of that attack force had been sent down to the planet to wage the ground battles needed for a complete victory. Entire domains, to the last man, had dedicated everything they had to the battle. But as news of repeated ground defeats began to make their way back to the fleet, even the most stalwart and die-hard commander could see that the battle was lost. The Yuuzhan Vong had pulled out, leaving their crippled ships and surviving ground forces to the mercy of the Galactic Alliance and the Mandalorians.
Several days after the fighting had ended, the fate of the surviving Yuuzhan Vong was finally being decided.
"When myself or one of the others walk by you, you will tell us your age, domain, and your reason for surrendering to us. Only some of you will be allowed back into this war to fight alongside the ranks of the Jedi. The rest of you will be placed in classes designed to teach you how to handle a post-war life. There will be no retribution. No punishment for taking up arms against this galaxy." The Freed One, Czalpak, spoke calmly, standing in front of a massive gathering of prisoners in a burnt out field. Mandalorian Protectors formed a perimeter, all of them training their weapons on the kneeling Yuuzhan Vong before them. "All of you here have surrendered, rather than take your own lives, for a reason. All of you realize that a life other than the ones proscribed to you by Shimrra and his underlings, is possible. You have all heard of the Freed Ones. Those who refuse to bow down to the wishes of a warmongering madman. Some of you may consider me a heretic for even saying that, but I do not care. The fact is, all of you chose to continue living. For whatever reason, from this moment on, all of you are freed from the shackles placed upon you by Shimrra. Freed from the burden and requirements you were forced to carry since our journey here. By choosing to surrender, by choosing life, you are all Freed Ones."
As the Freed Yuuzhan Vong who had come with the Galactic Alliance reinforcements began the streamlined process of going through the survivors, a small audience consisting of Sannah, Doran, Tahiri, Valin, Jysella, and Shaeri, looked on.
"How many surrendered this time?" Tahiri asked in a low voice.
"Close to a thousand, mostly warriors, but a few Shamed Ones managed to survive," Shaeri murmured. "There are still others in the ships in orbit that we haven't gotten to yet. There's a lot of debris up there."
"I thought these warriors believed that capture by an enemy was more dishonorable than a loss," Valin hissed. "Why are so many warriors surrendering, especially after they tried their damnedest to kill us only a couple days ago?"
"It's like Ebaq Nine or Obroa-Skai," Tahiri explained in a low voice. "The warrior caste is highly religious. They believe that the gods are with Shimrra and that Yun-Yammka approves of their campaigns. The more times we beat them, the less likely that seems. You lose enough big battles and you start to wonder if the gods truly are with Shimrra. You come to this planet with overwhelming odds and firepower and lose against a ground force ten to twenty times smaller than your own, and even the most faithful will begin to doubt."
"And how do we know that there aren't, like, spies in this group?" A recently released from her bacta tank, Jysella said.
"There probably will be some," Shaeri nodded. "We've had problems with infiltrators in the past. It's why only a dozen or so of the warriors you see here will be joining us to fight at our side. The rest will be placed into positions meant to both ready them for the end of the war, but also to show them alternative lifestyles that will hopefully make any spies think twice about their own activities. Of course nothing is foolproof, but Taan wants to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. The alternative is to imprison all of them, but that won't help us in the long run."
"And the Mandalorians are willing to just let them get away without any punishment? After what they did to this planet? It seems more trouble than it's worth to go through all this." Valin said. After the incident on Yaga Minor, he had forced himself into thinking that Shimrra's Yuuzhan Vong were the enemy and deserved little mercy. To leave some alive after they just massacred a million and a half living beings seemed incomprehensible. Especially since he was present and witnessed the attack firsthand.
"Most of the ones you see here are all that's left of their domain," Shaeri said, there was a harshness in her voice that caused Valin to jerk in surprise. "Because they blindly followed the orders of Shimrra, they've lost their entire family, their friends, their purpose for living. Their entire domain, the ship they called their home, lay in ruins in orbit and rotting on this planet. I think that they've already been punished, don't you think, Jedi Horn?"
"You can't see all of the Yuuzhan Vong as enemies," Tahiri added reproachfully. "It's thoughts like that that will prevent any sort of peaceful resolution to this war from occurring. Killing every last one of the enemy, though a way to end the war, isn't the fastest or the best. The best way to end a war is to turn your enemy to your way of thinking. That way the both of you are alive at the end and your side is stronger than ever. The Mandalorians, who know war pretty much better than any of us, know this as well. It's why they've agreed to let us handle the survivors."
Valin didn't back down. "Still, I don't think the people they've killed, the others in the galaxy they've made suffer, will accept that. You say that these Yuuzhan Vong have suffered enough by losing their entire family. But what about all the families they have ruined? About all the homes they razed and the lives they've taken." He gestured towards one of the Yuuzhan Vong Sannah had maimed. "A centimeter to the left and I would have lost my sister! We shouldn't be happily welcoming whoever has the brains to surrender to us just because they've realized they're on the losing side. We should show them that there's consequence for ruining our galaxy, for mass murder and terrorism. When we do things like this, it's like…like we're rewarding them for everything they've done so far."
"Not rewarding, forgiving." A new voice said.
The small audience turned and saw Verde Vizsla approach with a small group of battered-looking Mandalorians in tow.
"Forgiving?" Valin repeated.
"Forgiving the crimes they committed and moving on for a brighter future," Verde said calmly. "One of the things you need to learn, Jetii, is that you always leave your enemy an out. Would you have preferred that these Vongese fight to the death? That they be allowed to kill another one or more Mando'ade or your people just because you thought they should die to the last man? So what that they murdered thousands and razed our planet? The moment they surrendered, they stopped being our enemy and became a potential ally."
"Lady Vizsla," both Doran and Sannah politely inclined their heads at the Kyr'tsad leader.
"Jetii Sannah, Jetii Sarkin-Tainer," Verde acknowledged regally.
"It that all that's left of the Kyr'tsad?" Sannah said in a small voice, glancing at Verde's six followers.
"We can rebuild," Verde shrugged in answer, her face stoic. "It's not like this is the first time the Kyr'tsad have been reduced to so few in number. But it's thanks to you, Melodie Jetii, that my men who died were able to die as Mandalorians fighting for their homeworld. At least now their names will be recited among those of the fallen during the funeral songs, their lives immortalized."
"I didn't do much, Lady Vizsla," Sannah said modestly.
"You allowed Mand'alor and myself to preserve our honor and at the same time reconcile our differences, no easy task." Verde's piercing blue eyes briefly flickered to Valin even as she continued to speak to Sannah. "You turned your enemy into your friends, and because of that, we were able to successfully defend Manda'yaim's moons from whatever plots the Vongese had in store. If it wasn't for you, Jedi, my people and I would have been fighting alongside the Peace Brigade and Vongese. We might have lost, we might have won, but things would have been very different if it were not for you."
Sannah blushed and lowered her head. "Thank you. And I hope that the Kyr'tsad makes a quick recovery."
"You shouldn't. We Kyr'tsad despise Jetii after all," Verde said with some amusement.
"What are the Kyr'tsad going to do now?" Doran asked.
"Help Manda'yaim rebuild. While Mand'alor is off playing soldier, we'll help the civilians repair this planet. Who knows, maybe the good will we'll get from this will see our numbers increase by the hundreds. I'm actually here to pick out a small force of laborers from the prisoners. They helped wreck the planet, it's only fair they help fix it."
"Shaeri?" Doran glanced at the Yuuzhan Vong teen. "Would that be okay?"
"Once we've done a brief interview with the prisoners, we'll send the most compatible ones over to you," Shaeri nodded.
"Maybe the Mando'ade can learn from the Yuuzhan Vong just as much as the Yuuzhan Vong can learn from all of you," Sannah chimed in softly.
"Yuuzhan Vong in Beskar'gam, that'd be the day," Verde laughed. She glanced at Shaeri. "We'll be waiting over by that transport. Send whoever you can, whenever you can. Thanks to all of your help, we actually have a future to look forward to."
([{Chapter End}])
A\N: Next chapter up Wednesday, a single chapter update. It'll be the interlude between stories, as things shift gears once more.
