Chapter Three
After being allowed to leave the Miashku system, Vergere
jumped into a neighboring system and parked her old frieghter in
orbit around a dead moon. She began checking the ship that held
all her worldly goods, conducting repairs if they were needed. She
didn't trust the spaceports, and with good reason. The Miashku
planet was the closest thing to a reputable port in the sector. To
berth one's ship anywhere else and allow someone to look through
it was to guarentee one's ship would be missing a few parts, at
least, when they left.
Of course, the spaceports in Imperial-held systems were
reasonably honest, with regulations strictly enforced, but she didn't
feel up to testing her luck again, not when Thrawn knew the make
and model of her ship.
Oin, her unplanned guest, was asleep in his quarters.
While Vergere worked on the engines she thought about what to
do with him, and what to do with herself. She had warned the
Empire of the Yuuzhan Vong threat, so one could say her part in
all this was over. The Force was not telling her this, however,
but just the oppostite. There was yet something she needed to do,
but what?
Oin insisted they return to the Nesz homeworld, Sevac III,
presumably to help his people. Vergere could see no way to do this
save for a wholesale evacuation of the planet, and even if the
whole Nesz race could fit onboard her frieghter she somehow
doubted Sang Anor would graciously allow her to land on his seed
world and take off again unmolested. She was deep in thought
when the Force sent alarm bells off in her head. She started,
banged her head on the low ceiling as she crawled out of the
freighter's engines and ran for the helm.
*************************************
To all appearences Oin was deeply asleep on the small
pallet-bed, his thick tail hanging over one side to brush the floor. In
reality he was far away from the freighter, at least the essential part
of him was.
He hovered in space, but there was no ship around him, nor
a life-support suit, or even a body, and he did not drift but
remained in one place. Below him was his homeworld, vast
beyond anything he had once been able to imagine. Most planets
of the same general type looked alike from orbit, but he would
know this particular blue-green orb anywhere. He was aware of
it, as he was aware of his brother and sister Nesz below.
But that awareness was fading.
As he sensed his home planet, so too did he feel the
wrongness that had spread even further across it since he had left,
and he knew that if he decended through those clouds he would
see not the marshes and forests of his home, but the corral fields of
this planet's new masters, the Yuuzhan Vong. Very soon Sevac III,
a planet named by outsiders simply because it was third-farthest
from a star most civilizations didn't even bother to chart, would no
longer belong to the Nesz. And very soon there would be no Nesz
at all: even if their bodies were alive and active they would have
lost what had made them who and what they were.
A presence tried to manifest itself beside Oin and had
partial success. It was faint and wavered before him, because the
Eternal was bound to the planet and because of the damage done to
the world's life-force by the Vong.
"Child," Oin heard the 'voice' in his mind, "have you done
as we asked? Have you found a proper world yet?"
"I have not, Eternal," if Oin had a head he would have hung
it in shame, but he had left his body behind with Vergere, "the
seeds of our future were lost." To save time, and because he didn't
think he could bear verbally explaining this to the Eternal, Oin
summoned up the memory and gave it to that ancient. It
experienced Oin's adventures with Vergere, and his encounter with
Nom Anor. The young Vong had tossed Oin contemptously out of
the shuttle he would escape in, and had torn off the bandolier
holding the seeds by accident. By now Nom Anor, shuttle and
seeds were back at Sevac III, and the Nesz hadn't even the shadow
of hope.
Waves of despair flowed from the Eternal. "Then there is
nothing left. Our world will die, as will our children and finally
ourselves." It faded slightly. "Is there no way you can return? If
you could take more seeds away, if-"
"Vergere could help us." Oin said. "She would help us
if she knew your plans, if she believed there was hope to save our
people."
"Never! The Jedi is not one of us, her goals may not be our
goals. She would have us destroyed by these Imperials you met.
Child-"
"Child?" Oin snapped, and before the shock of inturrupting
an Eternal got to him he went on. "I have seen worlds beyond our
own, have you? You sent me from our world knowing nothing of
what I would find there, of how impossible your mission was!
You sent me forth in ignorance. I had to learn the truth of what
was at stake from our enemies."
"But I see it now, in your mind." The Eternal did not call
him 'child' again, but was there diffidence in it's 'voice?'
"So you know I have no hope of doing what you ask
without help. You may not trust the Jedi, but I know her, and I
believe she will help us, and you will cooperate!" A part of Oin
was amazed both at his insolence at commanding an Eternal, and
at the power in his mental 'voice' but only a very small part.
"It will be done." The Eternal wilted. "Return and we will
share all we know with this Jedi."
There might have been more forthcoming, but a shock to
his sleeping body made the spiritual umbilical chord connecting
spirit to flesh snapped him back inside his flesh. He opened his slit-
eyes and hopped off the bed. He was promptly knocked off his
feet when the ship rocked around him. He bounded up and ran for
the helm, his claws clicking on the floor.
"What's going on?" Oin gripped the sides of the doorway
to keep from being thrown to the floor by the shudders being sent
through the ship.
"We're under attack." Was Vergere's succinct reply.
"Pirates I would guess." Beyond the transparisteel viewport the
aggressor ship was briefly seen as it passed in front of them. A
strike cruiser, small and fast but armed to the teeth. Around them
swarmed half a dozen fighters, Uglies by the look of them. That
was all the Jedi could find out before a blast from the cruiser took
out their sensor arrays. The shields had collapsed in the initial
assault, and the propulsion system soon followed suit. The
frieghter had been unarmed to begin with, and now it was just a
drifting target caught in the dead moon's orbit.
The priates held their fire after crippling the ship, and the
strike cruiser slowed and moved in front of them, in full view of
the helm. Slowly, arrogantly, it closed the distance between them,
ignoring the Jedi's attempts to signal them. The commander of the
priates wanted his prey afraid, wanted their terror to mount as his
ship closed in on them like a spacegoing shark, Vergere felt those
intentions as clearly as if they had arisen in her own mind.
She narrowed her violet eyes in concentration. She could
sense around thirty lives onboard the cruiser, maybe a little less,
and no more than the six fighters. Oin watched the ship with
worried eyes, his lipless mouth tight. "Calm yourself." She said in
a soothing voice. "If they wished to destroy us they would have
done so by now."
Vergere had been signalling the ship in Basic, so the
commander used that language when he finally decided to contact
them.
"Unidentified frieghter," the brassy voice rang over the
comm, "you are trespassing in space controlled by the Xanian
Liberation Fleet. You are ordered to submit yourselves to due
justice. Allow your vessel to be boarded or be destroyed. Over."
Vergere's eyes narrowed. She had heard of the Xanian Liberators:
they claimed to be freedom fighters rebelling against the Warlord
Coerl's conquest and dominion of their planet. In actuality they
were just one more pirate gang and their plunder went into their
own pockets, not those of the starving widows and orphans of
Xania.
With the ship settled down, Oin risked crossing the room to
grip Vergere's upper arm. "What can we do?" He asked. "How
can your Jedi powers help us?"
Vergere thought a moment. "Before the Purges, I knew a
young Padawan named Callista. Her Master had a number of sayings
and one struck me as especially profound. 'There are a thousand
ways to use the Force in a fight, and a thousand and one ways to
avoid one.'" She hit the comm. "Liberator craft, this is the captain
of the frieghter Loon." She glanced at Oin and smiled. "We
surrender."
*************************************
Gnar, the commander of the strike cruiser Hit'n Fade,
personally led the boarding party. A cool smile stretched across
his face as he reflected his good luck in running across this little
prize. With luck, they could sell the cargo, the frieghter and the
passengers and crew into the slave trade and the rest of the
Liberator Fleet need never know, and never receive a share of the
profits. He took ten of his crewmen with him, particularly brutal
thugs all. Five remained stationed at the airlock when the two
ships connected while the other five accompanied Gnar into the
frieghter.
They only needed to subdue the crew and perhaps
inventory the merchandise (including the persons onboard) before
towing the small frieghter in their tractor beams. The strike cruiser
could disengage itself from the frieghter in a heartbeat if trouble
arose, and the six escort fighters, uglies but with top of the line
weapons, were ranging out in a wide perimeter around the two
ships, ready to detect an ambush in case this find proved too good
to be true. Gnar doubted this find was one of Coerl's little traps,
though, else he would never have led the boarders.
The pirate was slightly surprised when no one was ready to
greet him at the airlock, but he merely chuckled and snapped his
fingers. His other escort preceded him into the frieghter. If the
crew was foolish enough to think they could hide anywhere on this
tub, much less set up any sort of ambush on the pirates, they would
be unpleasantly surprised.
Three nek battle dogs, Gnar's pride and joy, bounded
forward. The beasts made the most hardenned of Gnar's thugs
look like baby pittens caught in a tangle of yarn. Each stood
higher than the commander's waist and was almost twice as broad.
The cybernetic dogs were all muscle and teeth, with gaping jaws
that could bite off a person's arm and grind it to mush while one
was still staring in shock at the bleeding stump.
Gnar had obtained them from a trader who claimed to have found
them in the gutted remains of a mercenary's ship in deep space,
frozen in stasis.
The neks' cavernous nostrils flared even wider as they took in the
scents around them. They pointed at two differend directions, one
at the helm, the other at the main room and the cargo hold beyond.
"The crew's split up." Gnar narrowed his eyes and set his
blaster for maximum power. "This smells like a trick, boys. And a
stupid one at that. Vashi, Mak, take one of the dogs and check the
helm. The rest of you come with me." So saying, he followed the
other two neks into the main room, flanked by his three crewers.
It sometimes amazed him that such bulky things as the neks could
move so stealthily, but the clawed splay-feet on those stubby legs
were near-soundless as they stepped. They were ugly enough to
stop a blaster bolt with looks alone, the trader had claimed, but
their hides would absorb a great many blaster shots without due
damage. Not that anyone was likely to hit them: a shooter who
tried to fire on the ugly things barreling down on him would most
likely drop his weapon and run away screaming instead.
The best quality by far, he had to admit, was their absolute
loyalty to their master. They would obey any command instantly.
This was easy to understand: it was programmed into their brains.
They followed the two neks through the main room, which
was outfitted as some sort of workshop. Furnishings were sparse,
nearly nonexistent in fact. There was a big table obviously for
tinkering with things, a smaller one for meals, a few chairs and a
few rooms, probably sleeping quarters, and a 'fresher connected to
the main room. A larger, closed door led to the cargo hold.
The neks sniffed at the doorways. "Check the sleeping
quarters." Gnar ordered. "That one first." They went to the
nearest door and Gnar hit the button beside it. He stepped aside as
the door slid open, but no blasterfire streaked out. A nek barged in
and there was no screaming. Gnar stepped around and saw a
small, empty chamber and a nek with nothing to kill. He snapped
an order and the nek stalked out.
They checked the other room and saw much the same
thing. The third was an empty supply closet. "Must be in the
cargo hold or the helm." Gnar reasoned and turned back to his two
guards.
Two?
"Where's Jorn?" Gnar said. The other two looked around.
"He was just here sir." One offered.
"Well he isn't here now." Gnar glowered at the cargo hold.
"The fool thinks he can take a look at the goods and maybe pocket
something for himself. C'mon." The doors slid aside and the neks
charged in, followed by Gnar. "What in the seven hells!" He spat
in his own language.
The cargo hold was empty, completely empty. "What kind
of frieghter's got no cargo?" Gnar spun around. "Jorn! Come out
here you garq-humping-" his eyes widenned. "Well where's
Huurad?" He tried for commanding anger, but it came out as a
shaky croak. His single guard looked around, surprised, and
started for the door to the main room. "No, idiot! Let the neks
lead the way!" He turned back. "Dogs!" He snapped, then paled.
The battle dogs were glaring at one another and snarling in
fury. Faster than Gnar's eye could follow they launched
themselves at each other. "Stop!" Gnar commanded. "Stop!" But
the roar of the neks overrode his voice. They tumbled and tore at
one another like mad. Feeling a cold sweat break out on his face,
Gnar backed away and hit the button, sealing the cargo hold and
the beasts within away from him. "We have to-" he turned back as
he spoke, but the words died on his suddenly dry lips and tongue.
The last pirate was gone.
"What in Xan's name is going on here?" He yelled.
"Vashi! Mak! Get your hides back here now! Dog! Come!" But
there was no response. Come to think of it, why would it take so
long just to check on the helm? "Is this some kind of ghost ship?"
He said to himself, and perhaps not entirely to himself as he
reached trembling fingers for his comm link. He brought the
cylinder near his mouth and moved his thumb to flick the ON
switch, when the device flew out of his hand. No, not flew, it was
yanked out!
He shrieked then, in pure terror, at the voice which seemed
to come from all around him. "Your friends aren't in any shape to
help you, Gnar. I'm afraid you're all alone." He caught movement
out of the corner of his eye and whirled, blaster leveled. The
cloaked figure lashed out with one of its limbs and the weapon
flew from his hand. Gnar's eyes were bulging from his head. The
hooded and cloaked being that faced him was perhaps a head
shorter than he, but seemed to pulse with power. Gnar was no
coward, though, and given something solid to fight his respose was
a vicious attack.
He pulled a long-bladed knife from his sleeve and launched
himself at the slight form. His enemy merely held up one hand,
palm-out.
Something invisible slammed into his midsection with the
force of ship breaking gravity's hold. The air was knocked out of
him and he was sent hurtling backwards, his lower legs struck the
long table and he tumbled head-over-heels across it to land on the
floor. The knife lay at the hooded one's feet.
Gnar groaned and shood his head. In front of his face he
saw a clawed, reptilian foot. He looked up and saw its owner: an
upright lizardlike being who watched him in return with narrowed
slit-eyes. It held a blaster pistol leveled at Gnar's head, and gave
every indication it knew how to use the weapon.
"So far, so good." Vergere muttered as she pulled back her
hood.
*************************************
"You're dead, y'hear me?" Gnar snarled as Oin jabbed his
blaster into the pirate's back, urging him through the door. Binders
locked his hands behind his back and the cloaked alien preceded
him. "Both of you! I've got five more men stationed at the airlock
and they'll-" he trailed off again on seeing his other five guards,
unconcious on the floor. Vashi and Mak had also been knocked
out and the other nek lay curled up in a corner, snoozing
peacefully.
"Hurry," Vergere said, "we don't have much time." Within
a few moments they had set everything up and had crossed into the
strike cruiser without any of the remaining crew knowing. The
pirates onboard were most surprised to hear their commander
booming over the comm.
"Attention all available hands, this is Commander Gnar,
assemble and board the captured vessel." Lieutenent Mort walked
to the bridge comm station and flicked the switch onto SEND.
"Somethin' the matter boss?"
"Get a party together and board that ship, Mort, or do you
want to try flyin' home without a ship? We don't have much time
here before Coerl starts breathing down our necks!"
Mort led a group of twelve crewers to the airlock, leaving six
behind to man the bridge. On seeing no one waiting for them at
the airlock Mort stationed three pirates at the entrace and led the
way into the frieghter. Inside, they found the helm and main room
deserted, then openned the cargo hold.
The pirates were very surprised indeed to find the first ten
crewmen bound and gagged on the floor, and the commander's
three neks napping in a corner. They were even more surprised
when the strike cruiser broke its hold on the crippled frieghter,
causing a quake that knocked them all to the floor or against the
walls. Mort was the first to his feet and running for the airlock,
where he found his three guards, stunned.
He hurried to the helm and signalled the cruiser that was
slowly moving away from them. "What's goin' on with you
people?" He roared into the comm. Pirates crowded the doorway
behind him. "Turn around and pick us up!"
"Very sorry, Lieutenent," a pleasant voice responded, "but I
can't afford any delays. Thank you for the ship, by the way, be
assured we will make better use of it than you would. I have no use
for this refuse, though." An escape pod launched from the cruiser.
"Your commander and bridge crew are all packed inside," the highjacker
explained, "you may want to tell your fighters to intercept that pod
before it runs out of air, it really wasn't made to hold seven,
especially when all the yelling and screaming they've been doing is sure
to use up oxygen. Over."
"You get back here whoever you are!" Mort yelled. "Get
back here or we'll hunt you down like rabid ranats! Don't you
know who we are? We're the Xanian Liberators!"
"Sorry I can't stay and chat, but as I said I can't be delayed.
It's been a pleasant transaction, Lieutenent. Over." The pirate
fighters went after them but by then the cruiser had gotten a good
head start away from the moon. Two of the fastest fighters caught
up with it but the pirate vessel's shields easily repelled their blasts.
The Hit'n Fade jumped into hyperspace, leaving it's former
owners to their own devices.
*************************************
On the Imperial-controlled planet Arkenue, private
Vers'eli'nuffur, or Selin to the humans, waved another group of
new arrivals through the spaceport gate into the city beyond.
Customs duty! Selin seethed under the cool facade every Chiss
was expected to maintain, and a Chiss of a noble House most of
all. No matter that he was only the fourth son of his House and so
denied the possiblity of inheriting a title or territories of his own,
noble blood still counted for something. Or at least it should!
He had joined Syndic Mith'raw'nuruodo's growing army of
Chiss and Imperial troops, thus making himself an exile from his
Homeworld, the only truly civilized place in the galaxy, because of
the oppurtunity for gaining wealth and power that he was denied
among his own people. Like most Chiss he had never gone beyond
their own space, and on joining the Empire he had expected to be
lording over the inferior races, alien and human, not protecting
them from one another, and certainly not taking order from
commoners, much less humans!
Selin couldn't understand how the Syndic seemed to value
ability only and didn't take family lineage into account at all. Selin
had no subordinates to command, his immediate superior was a
human of all things, and worst of all he had to work side-by-side
with commoners who, on Homeworld, would have dropped to their
knees on seeing him cross the street! The commoners out here had
been trained out of all proper respect for their betters.
He still remembered an epsiode from his early days in
Unity Fleet where he had tried to assert his rights over a commoner
Chiss and had found himself knocked to the floor with the peasant
and three of his friends standing over him.
"You left your title back on Homeworld, m'lord." The man
had said. "We're all the same out here. Your blood's no different
than mine, push me again and I'll spill some of it."
He fixed his red-eyed stare on a pair of merchants and sent
them scurrying through the gate. He was half-ready to abandone
this fleet altogether, except where would he go? Homeworld was
closed to him and he would sooner die than throw his lot in with
Warlords, pirates and the other trash that littered the Unknown
Regions.
The universe had a grudge against him, that was the only
answer he could see.
"Name and ship designation." He said to another pair of
merchants, a human and Weequay who were returning to their ship
to depart. He took out his datapad to register their names when
another coughing fit hit him. It had started late last night with a
slight tickle in the back of his throat and had gotten so bad he was
literally waking himself up with bouts of coughing that nothing
seemed to soothe. His throat felt raw and angry and he'd had,
possibly, a grand total of two hours of sleep. When he wasn't
waking himself up the other privates where doing the same with
their coughing fits.
If he didn't have to sleep in the barracks with the
commoners, Chiss and human, he probably wouldn't have caught
this thing in the first place. He hadn't been able to see the base
medic yet, as the medic was swamped with Imperials complaining
about their coughs. Of course, the lineage of a patient had nothing
to do with how early or late his appointment with the medic was
either. Certainly he couldn't see a doctor in the city, the local
knew next to nothing about Chiss physiology. This time the
coughing fit was so bad he nearly doubled over. If he ever found
out who had given this to him...
"Captain Giv Koler of the freight-hauler Motherload,"
the Weequay grunted in Basic, "and first officer Hok Megac." He
pointed at the human, who staggered a little and clutched at the
railing for balance. Intoxicated, Selin thought with disgust. "We
dropped off our cargo then stayed for three days, refueling and
repairs." And doubtless enriching the gaming houses, tapcaffs and flesh-
traders, Selin thought as he glanced at his datapad. "You're
cleared." He said. They started past, and the human collapsed in
midstep.
"What's the matter with that man?" Selin took a step
toward the body, then was hit by a coughing fit so bad he dropped
to his knees. He tried to climb to his feet but he couldn't fill his
lungs. He kept trying, refusing to appear on his knees in front of
these vermin. He clapped one hand to his mouth to block out the
coughing, brought it away to see flecks of red blood on his palm.
His glowing eyes widenned and before he knew what was
happening he was vomiting.
Only it wasn't his stomache that heaved, but his lungs. He
threw up blood, and other fluids he didn't care to identify. Cramps
seized his limbs and he fell to his side near the human, now forgotten
by the pain-wracked Chiss. He vomitted again, more blood, more
of his insides were outside, his clothes were filthy but he did not
care.
He was dying. He knew it. Felt it with each spasm that took
away a little more of himself. Dying in pain. Nothing peaceful
about this, spasms pushed him further and further until there was
nothing left to push and nowhere left to go. He was dying among
the inferior races and commoners he had so despised mere seconds
ago, and he found it did not matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing
existed but the spasm that tore through him and the one he knew
was waiting to tear through him again. And again. And again.
And then...nothing.
*************************************
The villip on Sang Anor's table inverted and took on his
son's features just as he was returning to his chambers. He had
been communing with the yammosk regarding the deployment of
coralskippers around the worldship. The war coordinator was in a
foul mood, it had a headache, which meant that Sang Anor now
had one too.
He forgot about all that when he saw Nom Anor's face.
"Executor, this is Nom Anor reporting. Executor, this is Nom
Anor-" the villip morphed the Vong's voice as well as his face.
Sang Anor hurried over and put his fingertips on the villip. Light
years away, the villip Nom Anor held took on the Executor's
visage.
"I hear you. Give your report."
"The various spores-plants have taken hold on twelve
worlds so far." He said proudly. "And the first outbreak has
occurred on Arkenue, an Imperial world in the Kammok sector. I
ordered the team to leave the planet as soon as the deaths began,
and to set up defenses for the spore-plant before they went."
"Good. Continue your work as planned. I will speak to
Coerl's minders and see that everything has been set up on their
end."
"Yes, Executor."
"And be wary, Nom Anor." He warned. "Now that the
plagues are becoming public knowledge it may be difficult
keeping a low profile. The Grand Admiral will likly try and put a
stop to this. You must work unnoticed."
"I will be a bloodwyrm swimming through their veins." The
villip smiled. "My enemy will not sense me until my hooks sink
into his brain."
"Yun Harla walk with you then. Sang Anor out." Nom Anor
was proving very apt indeed in these field assignments. At this
rate he was ready to move beyond the feenir stage altogether.
Sang Anor considered bringing this up with the priest when next
they spoke.
Sang Anor pushed himself away from the table and went to
his sclipune to get another villip. Things were proceeding nicely.
At this rate, Grand Admiral Thrawn would soon have too much on
his plate to even think of taking a stab at him.
After being allowed to leave the Miashku system, Vergere
jumped into a neighboring system and parked her old frieghter in
orbit around a dead moon. She began checking the ship that held
all her worldly goods, conducting repairs if they were needed. She
didn't trust the spaceports, and with good reason. The Miashku
planet was the closest thing to a reputable port in the sector. To
berth one's ship anywhere else and allow someone to look through
it was to guarentee one's ship would be missing a few parts, at
least, when they left.
Of course, the spaceports in Imperial-held systems were
reasonably honest, with regulations strictly enforced, but she didn't
feel up to testing her luck again, not when Thrawn knew the make
and model of her ship.
Oin, her unplanned guest, was asleep in his quarters.
While Vergere worked on the engines she thought about what to
do with him, and what to do with herself. She had warned the
Empire of the Yuuzhan Vong threat, so one could say her part in
all this was over. The Force was not telling her this, however,
but just the oppostite. There was yet something she needed to do,
but what?
Oin insisted they return to the Nesz homeworld, Sevac III,
presumably to help his people. Vergere could see no way to do this
save for a wholesale evacuation of the planet, and even if the
whole Nesz race could fit onboard her frieghter she somehow
doubted Sang Anor would graciously allow her to land on his seed
world and take off again unmolested. She was deep in thought
when the Force sent alarm bells off in her head. She started,
banged her head on the low ceiling as she crawled out of the
freighter's engines and ran for the helm.
*************************************
To all appearences Oin was deeply asleep on the small
pallet-bed, his thick tail hanging over one side to brush the floor. In
reality he was far away from the freighter, at least the essential part
of him was.
He hovered in space, but there was no ship around him, nor
a life-support suit, or even a body, and he did not drift but
remained in one place. Below him was his homeworld, vast
beyond anything he had once been able to imagine. Most planets
of the same general type looked alike from orbit, but he would
know this particular blue-green orb anywhere. He was aware of
it, as he was aware of his brother and sister Nesz below.
But that awareness was fading.
As he sensed his home planet, so too did he feel the
wrongness that had spread even further across it since he had left,
and he knew that if he decended through those clouds he would
see not the marshes and forests of his home, but the corral fields of
this planet's new masters, the Yuuzhan Vong. Very soon Sevac III,
a planet named by outsiders simply because it was third-farthest
from a star most civilizations didn't even bother to chart, would no
longer belong to the Nesz. And very soon there would be no Nesz
at all: even if their bodies were alive and active they would have
lost what had made them who and what they were.
A presence tried to manifest itself beside Oin and had
partial success. It was faint and wavered before him, because the
Eternal was bound to the planet and because of the damage done to
the world's life-force by the Vong.
"Child," Oin heard the 'voice' in his mind, "have you done
as we asked? Have you found a proper world yet?"
"I have not, Eternal," if Oin had a head he would have hung
it in shame, but he had left his body behind with Vergere, "the
seeds of our future were lost." To save time, and because he didn't
think he could bear verbally explaining this to the Eternal, Oin
summoned up the memory and gave it to that ancient. It
experienced Oin's adventures with Vergere, and his encounter with
Nom Anor. The young Vong had tossed Oin contemptously out of
the shuttle he would escape in, and had torn off the bandolier
holding the seeds by accident. By now Nom Anor, shuttle and
seeds were back at Sevac III, and the Nesz hadn't even the shadow
of hope.
Waves of despair flowed from the Eternal. "Then there is
nothing left. Our world will die, as will our children and finally
ourselves." It faded slightly. "Is there no way you can return? If
you could take more seeds away, if-"
"Vergere could help us." Oin said. "She would help us
if she knew your plans, if she believed there was hope to save our
people."
"Never! The Jedi is not one of us, her goals may not be our
goals. She would have us destroyed by these Imperials you met.
Child-"
"Child?" Oin snapped, and before the shock of inturrupting
an Eternal got to him he went on. "I have seen worlds beyond our
own, have you? You sent me from our world knowing nothing of
what I would find there, of how impossible your mission was!
You sent me forth in ignorance. I had to learn the truth of what
was at stake from our enemies."
"But I see it now, in your mind." The Eternal did not call
him 'child' again, but was there diffidence in it's 'voice?'
"So you know I have no hope of doing what you ask
without help. You may not trust the Jedi, but I know her, and I
believe she will help us, and you will cooperate!" A part of Oin
was amazed both at his insolence at commanding an Eternal, and
at the power in his mental 'voice' but only a very small part.
"It will be done." The Eternal wilted. "Return and we will
share all we know with this Jedi."
There might have been more forthcoming, but a shock to
his sleeping body made the spiritual umbilical chord connecting
spirit to flesh snapped him back inside his flesh. He opened his slit-
eyes and hopped off the bed. He was promptly knocked off his
feet when the ship rocked around him. He bounded up and ran for
the helm, his claws clicking on the floor.
"What's going on?" Oin gripped the sides of the doorway
to keep from being thrown to the floor by the shudders being sent
through the ship.
"We're under attack." Was Vergere's succinct reply.
"Pirates I would guess." Beyond the transparisteel viewport the
aggressor ship was briefly seen as it passed in front of them. A
strike cruiser, small and fast but armed to the teeth. Around them
swarmed half a dozen fighters, Uglies by the look of them. That
was all the Jedi could find out before a blast from the cruiser took
out their sensor arrays. The shields had collapsed in the initial
assault, and the propulsion system soon followed suit. The
frieghter had been unarmed to begin with, and now it was just a
drifting target caught in the dead moon's orbit.
The priates held their fire after crippling the ship, and the
strike cruiser slowed and moved in front of them, in full view of
the helm. Slowly, arrogantly, it closed the distance between them,
ignoring the Jedi's attempts to signal them. The commander of the
priates wanted his prey afraid, wanted their terror to mount as his
ship closed in on them like a spacegoing shark, Vergere felt those
intentions as clearly as if they had arisen in her own mind.
She narrowed her violet eyes in concentration. She could
sense around thirty lives onboard the cruiser, maybe a little less,
and no more than the six fighters. Oin watched the ship with
worried eyes, his lipless mouth tight. "Calm yourself." She said in
a soothing voice. "If they wished to destroy us they would have
done so by now."
Vergere had been signalling the ship in Basic, so the
commander used that language when he finally decided to contact
them.
"Unidentified frieghter," the brassy voice rang over the
comm, "you are trespassing in space controlled by the Xanian
Liberation Fleet. You are ordered to submit yourselves to due
justice. Allow your vessel to be boarded or be destroyed. Over."
Vergere's eyes narrowed. She had heard of the Xanian Liberators:
they claimed to be freedom fighters rebelling against the Warlord
Coerl's conquest and dominion of their planet. In actuality they
were just one more pirate gang and their plunder went into their
own pockets, not those of the starving widows and orphans of
Xania.
With the ship settled down, Oin risked crossing the room to
grip Vergere's upper arm. "What can we do?" He asked. "How
can your Jedi powers help us?"
Vergere thought a moment. "Before the Purges, I knew a
young Padawan named Callista. Her Master had a number of sayings
and one struck me as especially profound. 'There are a thousand
ways to use the Force in a fight, and a thousand and one ways to
avoid one.'" She hit the comm. "Liberator craft, this is the captain
of the frieghter Loon." She glanced at Oin and smiled. "We
surrender."
*************************************
Gnar, the commander of the strike cruiser Hit'n Fade,
personally led the boarding party. A cool smile stretched across
his face as he reflected his good luck in running across this little
prize. With luck, they could sell the cargo, the frieghter and the
passengers and crew into the slave trade and the rest of the
Liberator Fleet need never know, and never receive a share of the
profits. He took ten of his crewmen with him, particularly brutal
thugs all. Five remained stationed at the airlock when the two
ships connected while the other five accompanied Gnar into the
frieghter.
They only needed to subdue the crew and perhaps
inventory the merchandise (including the persons onboard) before
towing the small frieghter in their tractor beams. The strike cruiser
could disengage itself from the frieghter in a heartbeat if trouble
arose, and the six escort fighters, uglies but with top of the line
weapons, were ranging out in a wide perimeter around the two
ships, ready to detect an ambush in case this find proved too good
to be true. Gnar doubted this find was one of Coerl's little traps,
though, else he would never have led the boarders.
The pirate was slightly surprised when no one was ready to
greet him at the airlock, but he merely chuckled and snapped his
fingers. His other escort preceded him into the frieghter. If the
crew was foolish enough to think they could hide anywhere on this
tub, much less set up any sort of ambush on the pirates, they would
be unpleasantly surprised.
Three nek battle dogs, Gnar's pride and joy, bounded
forward. The beasts made the most hardenned of Gnar's thugs
look like baby pittens caught in a tangle of yarn. Each stood
higher than the commander's waist and was almost twice as broad.
The cybernetic dogs were all muscle and teeth, with gaping jaws
that could bite off a person's arm and grind it to mush while one
was still staring in shock at the bleeding stump.
Gnar had obtained them from a trader who claimed to have found
them in the gutted remains of a mercenary's ship in deep space,
frozen in stasis.
The neks' cavernous nostrils flared even wider as they took in the
scents around them. They pointed at two differend directions, one
at the helm, the other at the main room and the cargo hold beyond.
"The crew's split up." Gnar narrowed his eyes and set his
blaster for maximum power. "This smells like a trick, boys. And a
stupid one at that. Vashi, Mak, take one of the dogs and check the
helm. The rest of you come with me." So saying, he followed the
other two neks into the main room, flanked by his three crewers.
It sometimes amazed him that such bulky things as the neks could
move so stealthily, but the clawed splay-feet on those stubby legs
were near-soundless as they stepped. They were ugly enough to
stop a blaster bolt with looks alone, the trader had claimed, but
their hides would absorb a great many blaster shots without due
damage. Not that anyone was likely to hit them: a shooter who
tried to fire on the ugly things barreling down on him would most
likely drop his weapon and run away screaming instead.
The best quality by far, he had to admit, was their absolute
loyalty to their master. They would obey any command instantly.
This was easy to understand: it was programmed into their brains.
They followed the two neks through the main room, which
was outfitted as some sort of workshop. Furnishings were sparse,
nearly nonexistent in fact. There was a big table obviously for
tinkering with things, a smaller one for meals, a few chairs and a
few rooms, probably sleeping quarters, and a 'fresher connected to
the main room. A larger, closed door led to the cargo hold.
The neks sniffed at the doorways. "Check the sleeping
quarters." Gnar ordered. "That one first." They went to the
nearest door and Gnar hit the button beside it. He stepped aside as
the door slid open, but no blasterfire streaked out. A nek barged in
and there was no screaming. Gnar stepped around and saw a
small, empty chamber and a nek with nothing to kill. He snapped
an order and the nek stalked out.
They checked the other room and saw much the same
thing. The third was an empty supply closet. "Must be in the
cargo hold or the helm." Gnar reasoned and turned back to his two
guards.
Two?
"Where's Jorn?" Gnar said. The other two looked around.
"He was just here sir." One offered.
"Well he isn't here now." Gnar glowered at the cargo hold.
"The fool thinks he can take a look at the goods and maybe pocket
something for himself. C'mon." The doors slid aside and the neks
charged in, followed by Gnar. "What in the seven hells!" He spat
in his own language.
The cargo hold was empty, completely empty. "What kind
of frieghter's got no cargo?" Gnar spun around. "Jorn! Come out
here you garq-humping-" his eyes widenned. "Well where's
Huurad?" He tried for commanding anger, but it came out as a
shaky croak. His single guard looked around, surprised, and
started for the door to the main room. "No, idiot! Let the neks
lead the way!" He turned back. "Dogs!" He snapped, then paled.
The battle dogs were glaring at one another and snarling in
fury. Faster than Gnar's eye could follow they launched
themselves at each other. "Stop!" Gnar commanded. "Stop!" But
the roar of the neks overrode his voice. They tumbled and tore at
one another like mad. Feeling a cold sweat break out on his face,
Gnar backed away and hit the button, sealing the cargo hold and
the beasts within away from him. "We have to-" he turned back as
he spoke, but the words died on his suddenly dry lips and tongue.
The last pirate was gone.
"What in Xan's name is going on here?" He yelled.
"Vashi! Mak! Get your hides back here now! Dog! Come!" But
there was no response. Come to think of it, why would it take so
long just to check on the helm? "Is this some kind of ghost ship?"
He said to himself, and perhaps not entirely to himself as he
reached trembling fingers for his comm link. He brought the
cylinder near his mouth and moved his thumb to flick the ON
switch, when the device flew out of his hand. No, not flew, it was
yanked out!
He shrieked then, in pure terror, at the voice which seemed
to come from all around him. "Your friends aren't in any shape to
help you, Gnar. I'm afraid you're all alone." He caught movement
out of the corner of his eye and whirled, blaster leveled. The
cloaked figure lashed out with one of its limbs and the weapon
flew from his hand. Gnar's eyes were bulging from his head. The
hooded and cloaked being that faced him was perhaps a head
shorter than he, but seemed to pulse with power. Gnar was no
coward, though, and given something solid to fight his respose was
a vicious attack.
He pulled a long-bladed knife from his sleeve and launched
himself at the slight form. His enemy merely held up one hand,
palm-out.
Something invisible slammed into his midsection with the
force of ship breaking gravity's hold. The air was knocked out of
him and he was sent hurtling backwards, his lower legs struck the
long table and he tumbled head-over-heels across it to land on the
floor. The knife lay at the hooded one's feet.
Gnar groaned and shood his head. In front of his face he
saw a clawed, reptilian foot. He looked up and saw its owner: an
upright lizardlike being who watched him in return with narrowed
slit-eyes. It held a blaster pistol leveled at Gnar's head, and gave
every indication it knew how to use the weapon.
"So far, so good." Vergere muttered as she pulled back her
hood.
*************************************
"You're dead, y'hear me?" Gnar snarled as Oin jabbed his
blaster into the pirate's back, urging him through the door. Binders
locked his hands behind his back and the cloaked alien preceded
him. "Both of you! I've got five more men stationed at the airlock
and they'll-" he trailed off again on seeing his other five guards,
unconcious on the floor. Vashi and Mak had also been knocked
out and the other nek lay curled up in a corner, snoozing
peacefully.
"Hurry," Vergere said, "we don't have much time." Within
a few moments they had set everything up and had crossed into the
strike cruiser without any of the remaining crew knowing. The
pirates onboard were most surprised to hear their commander
booming over the comm.
"Attention all available hands, this is Commander Gnar,
assemble and board the captured vessel." Lieutenent Mort walked
to the bridge comm station and flicked the switch onto SEND.
"Somethin' the matter boss?"
"Get a party together and board that ship, Mort, or do you
want to try flyin' home without a ship? We don't have much time
here before Coerl starts breathing down our necks!"
Mort led a group of twelve crewers to the airlock, leaving six
behind to man the bridge. On seeing no one waiting for them at
the airlock Mort stationed three pirates at the entrace and led the
way into the frieghter. Inside, they found the helm and main room
deserted, then openned the cargo hold.
The pirates were very surprised indeed to find the first ten
crewmen bound and gagged on the floor, and the commander's
three neks napping in a corner. They were even more surprised
when the strike cruiser broke its hold on the crippled frieghter,
causing a quake that knocked them all to the floor or against the
walls. Mort was the first to his feet and running for the airlock,
where he found his three guards, stunned.
He hurried to the helm and signalled the cruiser that was
slowly moving away from them. "What's goin' on with you
people?" He roared into the comm. Pirates crowded the doorway
behind him. "Turn around and pick us up!"
"Very sorry, Lieutenent," a pleasant voice responded, "but I
can't afford any delays. Thank you for the ship, by the way, be
assured we will make better use of it than you would. I have no use
for this refuse, though." An escape pod launched from the cruiser.
"Your commander and bridge crew are all packed inside," the highjacker
explained, "you may want to tell your fighters to intercept that pod
before it runs out of air, it really wasn't made to hold seven,
especially when all the yelling and screaming they've been doing is sure
to use up oxygen. Over."
"You get back here whoever you are!" Mort yelled. "Get
back here or we'll hunt you down like rabid ranats! Don't you
know who we are? We're the Xanian Liberators!"
"Sorry I can't stay and chat, but as I said I can't be delayed.
It's been a pleasant transaction, Lieutenent. Over." The pirate
fighters went after them but by then the cruiser had gotten a good
head start away from the moon. Two of the fastest fighters caught
up with it but the pirate vessel's shields easily repelled their blasts.
The Hit'n Fade jumped into hyperspace, leaving it's former
owners to their own devices.
*************************************
On the Imperial-controlled planet Arkenue, private
Vers'eli'nuffur, or Selin to the humans, waved another group of
new arrivals through the spaceport gate into the city beyond.
Customs duty! Selin seethed under the cool facade every Chiss
was expected to maintain, and a Chiss of a noble House most of
all. No matter that he was only the fourth son of his House and so
denied the possiblity of inheriting a title or territories of his own,
noble blood still counted for something. Or at least it should!
He had joined Syndic Mith'raw'nuruodo's growing army of
Chiss and Imperial troops, thus making himself an exile from his
Homeworld, the only truly civilized place in the galaxy, because of
the oppurtunity for gaining wealth and power that he was denied
among his own people. Like most Chiss he had never gone beyond
their own space, and on joining the Empire he had expected to be
lording over the inferior races, alien and human, not protecting
them from one another, and certainly not taking order from
commoners, much less humans!
Selin couldn't understand how the Syndic seemed to value
ability only and didn't take family lineage into account at all. Selin
had no subordinates to command, his immediate superior was a
human of all things, and worst of all he had to work side-by-side
with commoners who, on Homeworld, would have dropped to their
knees on seeing him cross the street! The commoners out here had
been trained out of all proper respect for their betters.
He still remembered an epsiode from his early days in
Unity Fleet where he had tried to assert his rights over a commoner
Chiss and had found himself knocked to the floor with the peasant
and three of his friends standing over him.
"You left your title back on Homeworld, m'lord." The man
had said. "We're all the same out here. Your blood's no different
than mine, push me again and I'll spill some of it."
He fixed his red-eyed stare on a pair of merchants and sent
them scurrying through the gate. He was half-ready to abandone
this fleet altogether, except where would he go? Homeworld was
closed to him and he would sooner die than throw his lot in with
Warlords, pirates and the other trash that littered the Unknown
Regions.
The universe had a grudge against him, that was the only
answer he could see.
"Name and ship designation." He said to another pair of
merchants, a human and Weequay who were returning to their ship
to depart. He took out his datapad to register their names when
another coughing fit hit him. It had started late last night with a
slight tickle in the back of his throat and had gotten so bad he was
literally waking himself up with bouts of coughing that nothing
seemed to soothe. His throat felt raw and angry and he'd had,
possibly, a grand total of two hours of sleep. When he wasn't
waking himself up the other privates where doing the same with
their coughing fits.
If he didn't have to sleep in the barracks with the
commoners, Chiss and human, he probably wouldn't have caught
this thing in the first place. He hadn't been able to see the base
medic yet, as the medic was swamped with Imperials complaining
about their coughs. Of course, the lineage of a patient had nothing
to do with how early or late his appointment with the medic was
either. Certainly he couldn't see a doctor in the city, the local
knew next to nothing about Chiss physiology. This time the
coughing fit was so bad he nearly doubled over. If he ever found
out who had given this to him...
"Captain Giv Koler of the freight-hauler Motherload,"
the Weequay grunted in Basic, "and first officer Hok Megac." He
pointed at the human, who staggered a little and clutched at the
railing for balance. Intoxicated, Selin thought with disgust. "We
dropped off our cargo then stayed for three days, refueling and
repairs." And doubtless enriching the gaming houses, tapcaffs and flesh-
traders, Selin thought as he glanced at his datapad. "You're
cleared." He said. They started past, and the human collapsed in
midstep.
"What's the matter with that man?" Selin took a step
toward the body, then was hit by a coughing fit so bad he dropped
to his knees. He tried to climb to his feet but he couldn't fill his
lungs. He kept trying, refusing to appear on his knees in front of
these vermin. He clapped one hand to his mouth to block out the
coughing, brought it away to see flecks of red blood on his palm.
His glowing eyes widenned and before he knew what was
happening he was vomiting.
Only it wasn't his stomache that heaved, but his lungs. He
threw up blood, and other fluids he didn't care to identify. Cramps
seized his limbs and he fell to his side near the human, now forgotten
by the pain-wracked Chiss. He vomitted again, more blood, more
of his insides were outside, his clothes were filthy but he did not
care.
He was dying. He knew it. Felt it with each spasm that took
away a little more of himself. Dying in pain. Nothing peaceful
about this, spasms pushed him further and further until there was
nothing left to push and nowhere left to go. He was dying among
the inferior races and commoners he had so despised mere seconds
ago, and he found it did not matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing
existed but the spasm that tore through him and the one he knew
was waiting to tear through him again. And again. And again.
And then...nothing.
*************************************
The villip on Sang Anor's table inverted and took on his
son's features just as he was returning to his chambers. He had
been communing with the yammosk regarding the deployment of
coralskippers around the worldship. The war coordinator was in a
foul mood, it had a headache, which meant that Sang Anor now
had one too.
He forgot about all that when he saw Nom Anor's face.
"Executor, this is Nom Anor reporting. Executor, this is Nom
Anor-" the villip morphed the Vong's voice as well as his face.
Sang Anor hurried over and put his fingertips on the villip. Light
years away, the villip Nom Anor held took on the Executor's
visage.
"I hear you. Give your report."
"The various spores-plants have taken hold on twelve
worlds so far." He said proudly. "And the first outbreak has
occurred on Arkenue, an Imperial world in the Kammok sector. I
ordered the team to leave the planet as soon as the deaths began,
and to set up defenses for the spore-plant before they went."
"Good. Continue your work as planned. I will speak to
Coerl's minders and see that everything has been set up on their
end."
"Yes, Executor."
"And be wary, Nom Anor." He warned. "Now that the
plagues are becoming public knowledge it may be difficult
keeping a low profile. The Grand Admiral will likly try and put a
stop to this. You must work unnoticed."
"I will be a bloodwyrm swimming through their veins." The
villip smiled. "My enemy will not sense me until my hooks sink
into his brain."
"Yun Harla walk with you then. Sang Anor out." Nom Anor
was proving very apt indeed in these field assignments. At this
rate he was ready to move beyond the feenir stage altogether.
Sang Anor considered bringing this up with the priest when next
they spoke.
Sang Anor pushed himself away from the table and went to
his sclipune to get another villip. Things were proceeding nicely.
At this rate, Grand Admiral Thrawn would soon have too much on
his plate to even think of taking a stab at him.
