Chapter Seven

"We are nearing a party of Nesz," Oin whispered, "I can
sense them."

"About time." Vergere nodded and folded her hands in the
Robe's sleeves. It was hot in the marshes, but this was the climate
Nesz thrived in so Oin was doing very well. Vergere, like any
Jedi, could subtly alter and readjust her own body with the Force
and was therefore quite comfortable. The many buzzing insects,
small and large, avoided her unconsciously and the pests Oin
attracted were more than welcome, as the young Nesz scooped
them up with his wide, sticky tongue before they could suck so
much as a drop of blood. Bugs were a fine source of protein for
traveling Nesz.

They had just crossed a wide bog by way of small, moss
covered rock-islands useful as stepping stones. The distance from
rock to rock would be difficult, if not impossible for most
humanoids but Vergere jumped across with ease. The nimble Oin
simply swam, and with astonishing speed.

Vergere was grateful to be under the shade of the bora trees
on the far side of the bog, the natural cover would both keep out
the sun and hide them from coralskippers, pairs of which had
begun flying low over the treetops and shooting anything that
moved at irregular intervals since they had landed two days ago. It
had taken some time to work their way through the marshes,
especially as they had to make constant detours to avoid the
spreading, black coral fields that were blighting the land.

Normally very efficient, the Yuuzhan Vong had apparently
decided to alter the entire planet instead of just the parts that were
immediately useful. Vergere had a feeling this change in plans had
something to do with them and the Imperials who were wandering
around the planet, and the fact that the natives were nowhere near
as docile and submissive as they had once been.

Oin had been telling her all he could of what had been
happening since they had left to contact the Empire and set in
motion the chain of events that would doom this planet. While the
Nesz were not telepathic: they were unable to share thoughts and
read each other's minds, they did possess a strange rapport that
was not quite a group mind.


To put it simply, the Nesz were aware of one another. A
Nesz would experience another's pleasure or pain as intensely as
his or her own. This meant that Oin had a good idea of what had
been going on here in his absence, and that the rest of the Nesz
knew that he and Vergere had returned.

The Nesz had gathered into many small parties and moved
deeper into the marshes, to places that had as yet been untouched
by the Yuuzhan Vong, but Oin informed her that a small party had
been sent to meet and guide them.

There was also much Oin did not say, and did not need to
say. The young Nesz looked different now than he had when
Vergere had first met him. He was grimmer, his eyes were harder,
and he would occasionally flex his sharp claws or snap his teeth at
some imaginary prey. The changes in Oin were characteristic of
the changes in the entire Nesz race, a species that had never known
war or murder. Had never truly experienced hate, even.

Vergere felt it all around her, an imbalance in the planet
itself. The natural order of things was in conflict with a force she
could not sense, that appeared to her as nothing but a blank area in
the ocean of life-energy that was the Force. But she could see the
results of that conflict plainly enough.

They had seen arrows and spears scattered in the grass
almost as soon as they had left the escape pod. The simple
weapons of the Nesz, used for hunting and spearing fish. The
grass had been trampled, as would happen in a brief but violent
skirmish. Blood dried on the stalks and the hate and desperation of
those who had fashioned those arrows still clung to the weapons.

Later they had come across two dead Nesz, hung from a
tree upside down. They had died badly, very badly, tortured at
length and then skinned alive. Vergere did not need to see what
the scavengers had left of them to know that what had been done
to those two had still tainted the Force around them. Their bows
and spears had been broken and left at the foot of the tree, to mock
them.


Vergere had taken a step towards them, with an idea of
cutting down the bodies and burying them. Oin pulled her back
and shook his head wordlessly. Vergere understood: the Vong had
undoubtedly set traps for anyone who tried to retrieve the bodies,
as the Yuuzhan Vong themselves would try to gather up their own
dead. The Nesz did not have that particular custom, though. To
them, a corpse was like the dead skin the reptilian Nesz cast off
and no longer needed.

The Jedi had glanced at Oin, then had to look away from
the cold, piercing gaze directed at the remains of his two
comrades. She had not been able to shut out the terrible sense of
recognition she had felt from Oin, though. Since the Nesz were
so intimately connected, what they had done to those two had been
experienced by every other Nesz, down to the smallest infant. It
must have happened when Oin had shut himself away in his
quarters for Vergere not to see and sense what was happening to
her friend. How could he bear it?

Did the Yuuzhan Vong even understand what they had
done? Probably not.

The next day they had come across a large pit which had
been covered by a wooden frame and hidden from view by a carpet
of woven grass. No longer. Vergere and Oin could easily look
down at the three Yuuzhan Vong bodies, their dead amphistaffs
and vonduun armor, where they had fallen through onto the
sharpened stakes that lined the bottom. From there a party of Nesz
had gathered around the pit and filled the Vong with arrows.
Civilization had finally caught up with the beings of Sevac III.

The sight had told them it was safe to stop and rest: if more
Yuuzhan Vong had been here they would never have left their
comrades' bodies to rot.

Now they began to see other signs: blasterfire had left
scorch-marks on a bora tree. Ration bar wraps thrown on the tall
grass and trampled by booted feet. The Imperial pilots were
learning what it was to fight the Yuuzhan Vong up close and
personal.

Vergere knew they were being watched the instant the
observers' gaze fell on them. She said nothing to Oin, but after a
moment she felt him realize it as well. At first she failed to
recognize the beings around them. The simple fact that she could
sense them meant they weren't Yuuzhan Vong, neither did they
have the feel of humans or Chiss. It was a shock when she
understood at last that it was the Nesz search party.


Oin stopped and signaled her to do likewise. Then they
simply stood for a few seconds, long enough for the watching Nesz
to make certain this wasn't some sort of trap. Vergere felt the
familiar prickling sensation that meant weapons were being trained
on her, but she kept her hands visible at her sides. Yes, the Nesz
had changed: just weeks ago they would have run, laughing and
yelling, out at them and greeted her and Oin with friendly hugs and
pats on the back. The creatures that watched them were silent as
ghosts, suspicious of anything that moved, and didn't let down
their guard for a second.

Finally the leader of the searchers signaled to the others
with a high-pitched whistle. At the sound of the birdcall, over a
dozen Nesz dropped down from trees, stepped around their trunks
or swam up from nearby ponds.

Vergere shivered. These Nesz were gaunt and scarred, and
to a one they were armed with bows, spears and daggers of
sharpened rock or bone. It wasn't their fierceness that affected the
Jedi, but the empty, hopeless eyes that settled on her. The Nesz
were running on hate alone, they had given up on trying to defeat
their enemy: for every Yuuzhan Vong they killed, five Nesz ended
up dead or captured. Even if they were killing each other one-to-
one there were still only a few hundred Nesz, perhaps not even that
by now. They were fighting a war they could not win, and they
knew it.

The leader stepped forward. He was armed with a spear
and an ugly burn marred one side of his face. "You have returned."
He spoke gravely to Oin and Vergere. "Have you brought help?"

Vergere couldn't think how to answer him. She didn't need
to. "Yes." Oin responded in the same tone. "Take us to the
others."

****************************************
"Look out!"

"Do-ro'ik vong pratte!"

Azure One, or Stent as he was known out of his fighter,
ducked just in time to avoid being decapitated by a flying
razorbug. He spun to face the Yuuzhan Vong who'd thrown it and
shot at the tall, armored alien.

The blast knocked the Vong down, but the armor protected
him from harm. A second later he was getting up, amphistaff
whirling in his hands, but the three other Yuuzhan Vong who had
topped the rise were bounding past him and more were following.

"Spread out!" He yelled as the Imperials met them with
blasterfire. The TIE pilots had only been groundside a few days,
but they were quickly learning how to survive. Experience was a
particularly harsh teacher, and the ones still alive were the only
graduates. More than a hundred pilots had landed and met up on
the surface. Just over sixty were still here.

They were divided into three groups of about twenty to
avoid making themselves an obvious target and kept in touch via
comm-link. Stent had decided on this after they had been spotted
by a low-flying coralskipper just hours after landing. The first
twelve men had died in that skip's passing bombardment.

The survivors of Thrawn's strike force were all pilots, not
ground troops, and while they were well-trained this wasn't their
area of expertise. The only equipment they had came from the
survival kits of their TIE fighters and what could be salvaged from
the ships themselves before they had to be abandoned, and
constant attacks by Yuuzhan Vong were taking a heavy toll.

The men with Stent reacted without to this latest attack
without hesitation, spreading out to surround the Vong as they
charged. Razorbugs buzzed through the air and blaster bolts
streaked and left ozone trails in their wakes. The Yuuzhan Vong
charged, screaming war-cries as they came. Stent counted eight
black, silver-trimmed forms. A match for the twenty Imperials
with him. Stent and the others knew by now how deadly the
Yuuzhan Vong were in close quarters: their amphistaffs could cut
through flesh like soft cheese, and though their armor was
powerful, the Vong could move with stealth and stunning agility
and speed, not to mention the invaders? sheer physical strength:
yesterday one of Stent's wingmen quite literally had his head taken
off by a single swipe from a Yuuzhan Vong's gauntlet-covered
hand.

Unfortunately they could only be killed at close range: their
armor would deflect blasterfire from a distance.


A human's scream of agony resounded in the thick march
air, but Stent couldn't afford to take his glowing eyes off the
Yuuzhan Vong. When he estimated the Vong was in range of a
kill-shot he squeezed the trigger, wishing the pilots had more
powerful blaster rifles instead of just pistols.

The Vong jumped and pivoted his upper body as Stent
fired. The energy bolt grazed the chestplate and left a burn-score
across it, but did no damage to the being underneath. The enemy
stabbed with his amphistaff. The eyeholes gleamed and Stent
knew there was a triumphant, bloodthirsty grin beneath the
Yuuzhan Vong's mask.

The Chiss was already off his feet and rolling. The
Serpent's sharp tail sliced only air and Stent landed on his side with
his arms out and blaster leveled. The Vong spun and arced his
staff downward. Stent's eyes blazed as he pulled the trigger again
and sent his blaster bolt burning at, into and through the enemy's
mask. The Vong collapsed, dead instantly, and Stent quickly
rolled away and got to his feet before the amphistaff could strike at
him. Another thing the Imperials had quickly learned was that a
fallen warrior's amphistaff would stay near its master's body and
attack any non-Vong who got within reach.

He scrambled to his feet again, alert for more targets, only
to find the battle was over. The Imperials' quick reaction had
saved their lives, and probably reduced the casualties they might
otherwise have taken. Only one of theirs was down, which was
one too many, but black armored corpses littered the ground as
well.

"We got lucky." Stent said grimly.

"We showed them." A Chiss corrected, blaster held loosely
in his hand. He glanced down and kicked one of the bodies.
"Filthy things." He glared at the corpse while a Vong body behind
him bounded to his feet.

"Behind you!" The Chiss spun around, but was just a little
slow to take aim. The Yuuzhan Vong whirled his amphistaff in
one hand and snapped it against his inner forearm so that the razor-
sharp tail pointed behind him and the serpent's head was level with
the Chiss' face. The staff's mouth gaped open and a glob of venom
zinged from its open maw and struck the pilot across the bridge of
the nose. The Chiss shrieked as venom ate into his glowing eyes.


Stent fired, but the Yuuzhan Vong was already moving.
Reversing his amphistaff, he arced the tail end around to slice the
blinded pilot's upper leg. The Chiss' lower uniform quickly turned
black with gushing blood and he fell to the ground.

The Yuuzhan Vong howled in victory, a disc-shaped
razorbug appeared in his hand and he casually tossed it at Stent.
The lethal bug was transformed into a buzzing blur that arrowed
toward Stent's head. It was more instinct and luck than anything
else that saved Stent's life: if he had thought before he fired he
never would have made the shot. As it was, the bolt struck the
razorbug in an explosion of burning innards.

The Yuuzhan Vong, however, had used those few seconds
to close the distance between himself and Stent. What he assumed
would be his last flash of thought as he saw the sharp tail stab at
him was So now it's three down.

The Vong fell at Stent's feet with a smoking hole in his
back. The amphistaff reared to bite with eye-defying speed, and a
booted foot stepped on it where the neck joined the head. Drash
Tevock, the blaster he'd used on the charging Vong held firmly in
hand, calmly shifted all his weight to his heel, snapping the staff's
neck before it could harden its body in self-defense.

"Thank you." Stent swallowed. The human's passive face
didn't even register the complement.

"I thought this one was faking." He glanced at the newly
dead Vong with satisfaction. "I didn't see him get hit." He turned
away, warily eyeing the surviving amphistaffs that lashed on the
ground. The other seventeen Imperials were spreading out and
watching for a second wave of Yuuzhan Vong. Stent heard a low
groan and quickly ran to and knelt beside the injured Chiss.

Through the pain, he had held onto sanity long enough to
try and staunch the bleeding in his leg, but Stent could see that it
was a bone-deep cut and that a lot of blood had been lost. He
activated the comm link at his ear and tried to contact his two
scouts. He got no signal from their comm links. He glanced up at
the two Imperials nearest him.


"Check ahead, see why the scouts didn't call a warning."
He jerked his head toward the rise the Vong had crested. A couple
of Imperials scouted the terrain just ahead of each party, to prevent
the kind of ambush Stent's party had just run into. That they hadn't
called in meant they were both likely dead. Quickly, he switched
his comm link to a different frequency.

"Kelli, this is Stent, over." He pitched his voice low.
"Kelli, this is Stent. Over." The link buzzed in his ear and he
heard the other pilot's voice.

"Kelli here, over." Kelli led one of the other two parties of
crashed Imperials, both of which were to the west of Stent's
position.

"We've been attacked." He said. "Eight Vong, all dead.
Two-" he paused, glanced down at the wounded Chiss. His nose
and cheeks were discolored and already being eaten away by the
venom. His eyes no longer glowed, but were dark, dull blanks in
an agonized face. He hissed air through clenched teeth. "Make
that three down. And the scouts."

"Blaster bolts," Kelli muttered, "well we haven't run into
anything almost all day." He said, almost reluctantly, "and the
terrain's easier too."

"I don't like it either." Stent agreed. "It smells like a trap,
and I feel like a nerf being herded to the slaughterhouse." He
ground his teeth. "No choice though. My team'll swerve west,
maybe catch some of your luck."

"If we were lucky we'd be back at the base in Jaitec,
enjoying the friendly natives." Kelli groused. The natives of
Jaitec were a barbaric, semi-sentient race that had a fondness for
Chiss and human meat. And they were angels compared to the
Yuuzhan Vong. "The festering Vong are toying with us, Stent."

"Like a spider with some plump insects in her web."
Stent's burning eyes swept across the Vong corpses. "But they'll
learn these flies have stings. Pass it on to the other party, Stent
out." He turned off the comm link.


"And here," the prone Chiss tried to sit up and fell back
with a wince of pain, Stent caught his shoulders and helped as he
could, "and here, I thought, I had problems." He tried to smile and
failed miserably. Stent swallowed around a lump in his throat. It
was Larsek, a longtime wingman of Azure Squadron. He and Stent
had been friends since before they had left the Chiss homeworld to
join Thrawn's growing fleet. Stent had even stood at Larsek's right
hand during his friend's wedding: it was a rare thing for a bonded
Chiss to exile himself from the homeworld, and an even rarer
female, such as Larsek's young wife Jhaen, who would encourage
and accompany her husband in something the Chiss rulers were so
opposed to.

"Larsek, you idiot." He snarled, but in fear of the other's
life rather than in anger. "Can you see me at all?" Stent asked, his
glowing eyes searing into the dead, black orbs in Larsek's face and
getting no response, not even a blink.

"I see, the towel someone, put over my face, not much,
else." He was taking quick, shallow breathes, and had to stop and
draw breath after every few syllables. Blood had saturated the
makeshift bandage on his leg and was leaking through to stain the
grass. Despite the grave situation Stent felt a smile tug at his face
at the response that was at once so surprising and at the same time
so like Larsek. Stent had sometimes wondered if he took anything
seriously, yet there was no one he could depend on more. He tried
to stifle the grin.

The blinded Chiss somehow knew it. "You take things to
seriously, Stent." He gasped. "You'll turn stiff as a carbonite
statue without me around."

"Don't talk like that." Stent said quickly and glanced up at
the Chiss and humans busily stripping any valuable equipment
from the two dead Imperials, getting ready to march out and
otherwise pretending not to see Stent and Larsek. "We can rig up a
splint for your leg, some antitoxin might work on your
eyes...someone get me a med-kit!" He began to shout, but was
stopped when Larsek reached back to clutch his arm feebly.

"Don't waste it on me." Larsek said firmly. "I'm four-fifths
finished and we both know it. Just make it quick and get moving."

"Ah...Larsek..."

"I got careless, you saw." He coughed and flecks of blood
appeared on his shirt. "I'm a pilot after all, not a ground pounder.
Even if you try and take me along I'll just slow you down, we both
know you can't afford the risk." His face twisted in agony. "Just
finish it quick, Stent."

For a few seconds that seemed like an eternity Stent stared
into those dead eyes, eyes that had pulsed with glowing light just
minutes ago. "All right then." He heard himself say as he slowly
lifted his blaster.

"Just..." he had to swallow, "just promise me you wont die
here like me. Promise you'll get out of this. And tell Jhaen and
Holla..." his face crumpled, Holla was his only child, a daughter
born only two years ago. "I can't even think of what to tell them."

"I'll think of something for you." Stent promised as he
pulled Larsek into a sitting position and pushed his head forward.
Larsek made a noise that might have been a chuckle.

"Don't tax your imagination too much, Stent. You'll give
yourself brain-fever."

"Yes." Stent reversed his blaster and held it by the barrel:
power cells were low and they couldn't afford to waste a single
shot that might be used on a Yuuzhan Vong. He raised his arm
and brought it down swiftly, using the grip of his blaster like a club
and striking Larsek on the back of the head where skull met neck.

He searched for a pulse and felt nothing. Businesslike, like
stripped the body of weapons and equipment and motioned one of
the Imperials to help him lift the corpse. They lined up the three
bodies under one of the trees, crossed arms over chests and
covered their faces. There wasn't time for anything else.

Stent surveyed his ragged and diminished party, took his
place at the head of the column and led them forward, angling
them to the west.

*********************************************
Ke'Nass stretched and felt the vonduun shell armor make a
few final adjustments before form-fitting itself to his body. He
smiled in satisfaction, the armor would turn blaster bolts at
anything short of point-blank range, yet he could move about in it
as easily as if it were his own skin. Hands encased in flexible
gauntlets picked up the amphistaff that lay coiled around the back
of his chair.


The Prefect settled the serpent on his shoulders and let its
ends coil around his arms. He had a couffee at his side and a
bandolier with thud bugs, razorbugs, exploding bugs, packets of
blorash jelly and numerous other Vong weapons slung across his
chest. He needed only the helm and face mask on the armrest of
his chair to complete the uniform. He appraised himself in a full-
length mirror of smooth, brightly polished yorrik coral and nodded
in appreciation of himself. He was an imposing figure indeed in
the sculpted, silver-trimmed armor. Yes, the infidels would be
suitably terrified at the sight of him.

"You know what to do while I'm gone." He said
offhandedly to one of his underlings, then had a second thought
and decided to explain it again. "Monitor the skies for more
incursions by the infidels and the villips for word from the
Executor." He pointed to one of the villips on a nearby table.
"Notify me of anything important."

"Going somewhere, Prefect?" Ke'Nass whirled to face the
speaker and felt the amphistaff tense in response to his surprise
and anger. Instantly he banished all expression from his face and
straightened to face the Vong who had come upon him unawares.

"Nom Anor." He gave the youngling a thin smile and
ground his teeth. The new arrival was attired in similar armor and
stood at ease near the doorway, casually flexing one gauntlet-
covered hand and watching the Prefect with steady, dark eyes.
Ke'Nass struck a self-important pose and continued. "I go to join
the warriors in the marshes. My search parties have herded the
infidels into my trap, I will crush them all in one final strike." He
raised a clenched fist and showed his fangs in a savage grin.

"If...that is all Prefect?" The underling glanced at the two
Vong eyeing daggers at one another and hurried past Nom Anor
and out the door the second Ke'Nass waved for him to depart. The
Executor's revolting spawn strolled forward, his calm face
revealing nothing.

"I am also preparing to depart in my search for the Jedi. I
will require a few warriors to assist me, if you can spare them that
is." Bold and secure in his position, with his marred face and new
tattoos, he met Ke'Nass' without looking away once and addressed
him as an equal: one adult Vong to another. He did not salute,
bow, nor make any pretense of servile behavior, and the
maddening thing was that Ke'Nass could not punish him for lack
of respect: Nom Anor was here on a mission from the Executor
himself, and so was not under the Ke'Nass' authority.


"Of course." The Prefect walked the two coral steps up the
raised dais where his chair stood and took his masked helm from
the armrest. He felt his stomach twist in response to his bone-deep
anger and, he refused to admit it even to himself, uncertainty:
before today the Prefect had never really considered the Executor's
son a threat, he had never thought about the young Vong at all
except as an excuse to make some jibe against Sang Anor. Today,
however, when Nom Anor had arrived on the seed world, Ke'Nass
had been forced to take notice of him, and the older Yuuzhan
Vong did not like what he saw.

Nom Anor bore a close resemblance to his mother, even
through the new scars, broken cheekbone and tattoos one could
easily see that, but there was something about the way he held
himself and the piercing quality of those dark eyes that called Sang
Anor to mind. An interesting attribute, and a disturbing one.

Disturbing because, for the fist time, Ke'Nass considered
that the Executor's son might prove to be just as dangerous as his
father. Perhaps more so.

"Thank you. I am glad you seem to be making progress in
exterminating the infidels that profane our seed world." Nom
Anor glanced at the long, broad table that took up much of the
Prefect's conference chambers. Made of living coral, the tabletop
was sculpted in a map of the marshland area where the Imperials
were located. With data provided by coralskipper flyovers and
Yuuzhan Vong search parties as they had hunted the Nesz, the
topograph was as accurate as any computer could make.

Small sections of the dark coral shimmered with different
colors representing the locations of Ke'Nass' hunting parties and
the probable location of their Imperial quarry. A row of villips at
the head of the living table, connected to the map via neural cords,
kept the locations updated.

As Nom Anor watched, some of the shimmering spots of
color moved slightly in accordance to the search parties, each of
which had a villip joined to one of the villips on the table. As
things appeared, the Imperials would soon be driven into a
peninsula. They would find themselves surrounded by water on
three sides and nowhere to run. The Yuuzhan Vong lying in wait
and the search parties that had harried them would all fall on the
infidels at once, slaughtering them utterly.

The Prefect narrowed his eyes. "You approve of the
arrangement?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. Nom Anor looked
up and raised a brow.

"No, not really." The young Vong said politely, choosing
to take the Prefect seriously. "The hunting parties are well
positioned, but why so few warriors in each group? Your hunters
have taken losses in every encounter with the stranded Imperials,
despite whittling away a few of the infidels in the process."

Ke'Nass clenched his fists, how dare this boy question him!
He returned the polite smile, though, and answered in kind. "Ah,
a very astute observation, but you lack experience, youngling,
however much you excelled in war games and covert operations."
He sat in his thronelike chair. He knew he looked especially
imposing in the beautifully sculpted coral chair with its back
spreading out above his head to double as a stand to lay his
amphistaff on.

He lay one hand on an armrest and held his helmet in the
crook of his other arm. His amphistaff slithered down Ke'Nass'
arm and rested its head on the Prefect's wrist. These subtle
reminders of Ke'Nass' authority and experience should cow the
young Vong.

"It would do no good to simply overrun the infidels with
superior numbers." He continued in a lightly patronizing tone. "I
have given the warriors under my command the opportunity to
show individual skill and ability, and to shake off the laziness and
complacency that results from being posted in a seed world with
only a slave species to quell." And to try and win a measure of
personal glory out of this honorless fiasco. He added silently.
And if the warriors take a few losses while hunting the infidels, it
will only make them seem that more dangerous, and finally
defeating them much more escalating for me.

"Besides, the infidels are likely to scatter in the face of a
direct and overwhelming attack. We would miss a few then, and it
would take even more time and energy to track them down. My
way is better, to herd them all into one spot, then exterminate them
when there is nowhere to run to." He concluded triumphantly, then
suppressed a scowl on seeing Nom Anor looked less than
impressed.


"One might argue that the death toll of our own warriors is
excessively high for dealing with a few ill-supplied Imperial pilots
stranded in unfamiliar terrain." Nom Anor returned. "One might
question, in fact, how it was they were even allowed to land in the
first place, when your coralskippers could have easily destroyed
their fighters while they were in the sky." The crash sight for the
fighters was depicted at the edge of the coral table, TIE fighter-
shaped lumps of coral among broken trees.

"The appearance of the Jedi's battleship and its explosion
distracted the coralskippers." Ke'Nass retorted.

"Yes, I've seen the battle reports stored in the villips." The
younger Vong nodded. "What I am puzzled with are your
decisions during the battle. The coralskippers simply scattered
after the battleship's explosion and each pilot went after any target
he could. They only needed someone to issue an order and they
would have gotten back in formation, yet our defenders were left
to their own devices. Why? Where was their leadership?" Nom
Anor idly scratched his own amphistaff under the chin.

Ke'Nass had shot out of the chair before the last word was
out of Nom Anor's mouth. The Prefect's face was quivering and
white with fury. The amphistaff reared back over his shoulder and
hissed in response.

"Silence!" He howled, then closed his jaw with an audible
snap when he realized Nom Anor had finished and he had just
broken silence by calling for it. For a second he could only choke
on his knotted tongue and spear the boy with his bulging eyes.
Where had leadership been during the final stage of the battle?
Curled up in its chambers getting good and drunk, the tone
implied. The fact that it was correct did nothing to ease the sting
of the verbal slap in the face. The Prefect stood, terrible in his
wrath, eyes flashing lightning from the dark, stormy face, while
Nom Anor cocked his head and waited for the Prefect to express
himself.

"You-" he finally managed to choke out, "you, you..." He
swallowed. "You think some fresh scars and a few tattoos still wet
on your flesh make you a man? Give you the right to come here
and question my orders? Perhaps you wish to take over the hunt
for the infidels, now that I've boxed them up. Is that why Sang
Anor sent you here? To steal my victory?"


"I am here for the Jedi, Prefect, nothing more or less. The
Executor," he emphasized the title, reminding Ke'Nass of the
honorific he had not used, "sent me here for that reason alone, not
to question your orders, or lack of them. I came into this chamber
to ask for warriors to aid me. You were the one who asked if I
approved of your plans."

Ke'Nass had to take several deep breaths before he could
move from his ridged position and be sure he wouldn't throw
himself at the other Vong and throttle him with his gauntlet-
covered hands. "You will have your warriors, Nom Anor." He sat
back down, the amphistaff settling restlessly on his arm.

"My thanks, Prefect. I go now to the priest, so that he
might perform the rites for a safe and successful journey. They
will meet me before the temple?"

"Yes, yes, you are dismissed."

Nom Anor bowed and backed away. "Thank you, and be
sure that the Executor will receive a glowing report of your
performance, Prefect." The orifice to the room closed behind him,
leaving Ke'Nass to stew in his bile.

He despised Sang Anor, and now he was learning to hate
the man's son with equal fever. What he would never admit
though, not even to himself, was that he was afraid of them as
well.

Ke'Nass had always been afraid of Sang Anor, ever since
they were young feenir going through the weeding-out phase of
a Vong's development. Ah, he had known even then that Sang
Anor would not be one of those culled, and even then could not
meet the other child's eyes. He could suppress and mask it, but the
fear was always there, buried so deeply in the Prefect's psyche that
it was the root of his hate and jealousy.

A lot of it was the simple fact that Ke'Nass couldn't
understand Sang Anor. Apart from his intellect and cunning, the
Executor was different from other Yuuzhan Vong. The Vong
were a hot-blooded, passionate race, but Sang Anor was cold,
calm, always collected, always watching everyone with those
bright eyes, weighing and measuring, cataloging weaknesses and
filing them away for later use.


He had taken only one wife when his rank entitled him to
five at most, unheard of in a high-ranking Vong! And that wife
had given him only one child in all their time together, yet he had
never seemed angry or disappointed, as Ke'Nass certainly would
have been.

Once there had been a celebration held on the worldship
after the Vong had defeated a group of infidel pirates that had
stumbled across them. Ke'Nass and Sang Anor were simple
warriors themselves at that point, and the Jedi Vergere was still a
prisoner being studied by the Shapers and priests. It had been four
years after the worldship's arrival in this galaxy and the battle over
a strange world called Zonama Sekot, and the Yuuzhan Vong
hadn't faced a true challenge since, they had been too preoccupied
with slinking in the shadows and avoiding notice. Thus any battle
won was a cause for celebration and many of the warriors were
getting pleasantly drunk, Sang Anor and Ke'Nass among them.

Ke'Nass had turned to Sang Anor and slurred a question
that had been on his mind for some time: why only one wife?
Wasn't he man enough for more?

Sang Anor had fixed Ke'Nass (who had then been Kerin
Nass) with a look that sobered him in a heartbeat and imprinted
the moment on his brain. He had stared at Kerin Nass for a few
seconds, considering his response before answering: "Not man
enough? Lyrra is worth any other three females. I couldn't handle
more." Then he had turned and walked away.

Yes, Ke'Nass had to admit, Lyrra Anor was something else.
But the Prefect couldn't conceive of having just one partner and
being, as Sang Anor apparently was, completely happy. Nor would
Ke'Nass have been overly concerned if one of his wives had been
killed. Certainly he would swear vengeance and do whatever he
could to find and destroy the killer, honor demanded it, besides, an
attack on any part of his household would be an attack on his
pride. But he certainly wouldn't be affected personally!

Sang Anor on the other hand...it had been three years and
he was still in mourning!


Then there was this business with his son. Ke'Nass himself
had fathered numerous offspring on his wives, and the infants had
been given to them collectively to nurse and raise and to keep
them from bothering Ke'Nass until they were toddlers, old enough
to put into training with the other young Vong of their age-group,
at which time they had been sent to the communal training areas of
the worldship. Half a dozen of his children had survived into
adulthood, Ke'Nass saw them occasionally and thought of them
about as often.

Sang Anor had assigned his own son as a personal aid as
soon as Nom Anor had graduated the basic stages of his training,
the boy was taken under the Executor's wing on entering young
adulthood. It was incomprehensible. It was-

a weakness.

Ke'Nass sat bolt upright, then slowly stood and walked
down the steps to the coral floor. His eyes had taken on a fierce
intensity and his lips twitched upward in a small smile.

Yes, a weakness, a flaw in the Executor's armor, a way for
Ke'Nass to make his rival suffer as the Prefect himself had
suffered at Sang Anor's hands. The countless humiliations, being
robbed of glory and praise again and again. And now being
consigned to this unimportant post during the greatest battle the
Yuuzhan Vong had yet faced in this galaxy and a boy with the
tattoos still fresh on his body sent to undermine his work, it was
the final disgrace!

Well, Executor, you have just proved too cunning for your
own good! You have delivered into my hands a weapon to carve
your very soul! Yes, he knew the man's weakness: the boy who so
resembled his mother. The Prefect was not a very imaginative
man, but at that moment he easily put himself in Sang Anor's
place, seeing his beloved wife whenever he looked at his son's
face, feeling joy as the boy grew strong before his eyes.

And he could imagine a shadow of the sharp, bitter pain
that would smite Sang Anor if his son, who was all he had left of
Lyrra Anor, were to be taken away from him. You once told me
you could destroy an enemy without bruising his skin or drawing
so much as a drop of blood. I didn't understand then, but I do now.
Oh yes, Executor, I do.

He lifted the masked helmet to his face and eased it on. He
felt the vonduun crab conform to the contours of his face and head,
the lips on the mask matched his perpetual sneer exactly. He took
the amphistaff into his hands and made it stiffen as the doorway
irised open, allowing him to walk into the hallway beyond.


Ceis Grasm, the female warrior who had acted as Ke'Nass'
immediate subaltern since the failed Imperial attack was walking
down the corridor to his chambers at that moment. She stopped
and saluted when she saw the Prefect.

"Master, your coralskipper is prepared. Shall we go?"

Ke'Nass studied the warrior for a second, noting the
restrained excitement in her gleaming eyes. Ceis Grasm had the
passions of a young Vong, but she was also a seasoned fighter and,
best of all, completely loyal to Ke'Nass. Perfect.

"You will not be accompanying me when we crush the
infidels," he said, "I have another mission for you. The Executor's
son has recently arrived on the seed world, he is here to hunt down
and kill the Jedi who may have been aboard the battleship that
exploded itself. He has requested warriors to aid him. You will be
one of those I send."

Ceis Grasm stiffened visibly and her eyes widened behind
her mask. Ke'Nass could read the thoughts behind those outraged
eyes: she was not to take part in the slaughter of the trespassing
infidels, an act that would bring much glory. Instead she would be
hunting an escaped slave and, worst of all, she would be under
the command of a boy barely out of the feenir stage! "Master,"
she said uncertainly, "if I have offended you in some way-"

"No, no," Ke'Nass silenced her with a wave of his gauntlet-
covered hand. "I simply have a more important job for you,
subaltern." He motioned for Ceis Grasm to take a step closer.
"There is an important matter that must be attended to." He said in
a low voice. "You see, hunting Jedi is a dangerous business,
subaltern, and young Nom Anor is still somewhat lacking in
experience."

Under the mask, Ceis Grasm felt her lips tighten until they
turned white. She was being assigned to baby-sit a feenir? "I
will be at the youngling's side every step of the way." She assured
him in clipped tones.

Ke'Nass smiled. "Good, because under no circumstances is
Nom Anor to survive."

*****************************************************

Vergere's welcome to the Nesz camp was not a warm one,
but it was still a welcome. When she, Oin and their guides passed
concealed sentries that made not a sound to give themselves away,
yet were clearly sensed by both Oin and Vergere, and entered the
camp proper the Nesz turned as one to the newcomers. There were
no shouts of greeting or welcome, but dozens gathered around Oin,
who walked slowly towards them.

They closed ranks around the young Nesz and a low,
mournful keening sound was loosed from every reptilian throat in
a hum that made Vergere's feathers vibrate and penetrated her very
bones. The Nesz reached out and gently touched Oin with their
claws and snouts. They were packed closely together, but did not
crowd each other or Oin.

The Jedi drew back and pulled her cloak around her. The
welcoming ritual was a touching experience, but Vergere was
uncomfortable; she did not share the special sense of one-ness that
united the Nesz. She felt set apart, which reminded her that she
was as alien to this world as the Yuuzhan Vong were.

After a moment the Nesz, by unspoken announcement,
broke off the ritual and drifted back to their various chores, mostly
gathering up food, tending to wounded Nesz and preparing spears
and arrows. Oin waved Vergere forward and sat down near a
small group of three Nesz.

"I am Dra. Many here believe your return is a sign of better
times." One said without preamble. "I pray they are right: the
Nesz are sore in need of hope." The speaker was a young male,
gaunt and scarred like most of the Nesz were now. He was
missing an eye where a long scar crossed his face. He leaned
forward and pitched his voice low. "Is there a reason to hope?" He
asked softly. Vergere met his single dark eye with her violet ones
and steeled herself. The Nesz deserved the truth.

"Yes." Oin spoke up, startling the Jedi. "There is one hope
left, a small one, and a hard road, but yes."

Vergere turned wide eyes to the young Nesz, what was he
talking about? Dra and the other Nesz closed his eyes and
shuddered in relief. "Then it was not in vain." Vergere didn't need
to ask what he meant. She had seen and felt it at the battle sites,
the Yuuzhan Vong bodies.


"No, it was not." Oin assured. "You had to fight back and
survive long enough for us to return." Vergere remained silent and
hid her puzzlement: had the strain broken his mind? Why give the
Nesz false hope?

"What has been going on since we left?" Vergere asked,
glancing at the surroundings. The camp was clearly designed to be
packed up at a moment's notice. Unlike the small villages the
reptile-creatures had once used, this camp had nothing resembling
a permanent structure, just bedrolls containing what few
possessions the Nesz needed. The small parties of natives
scattered throughout the swamps had quickly learned to travel
lightly, and they had always lived off the land.

"When Oin and I departed, the Yuuzhan Vong were leaving
you free Nesz alone, mostly, unless they had an immediate need
for slave labor. They were content with gradually reforming your
planet into a seed world for their growing fleet. What has
happened to change that?" She and Oin glanced at the three seated
Nesz and at Dra, who seemed to be their leader, and suddenly
realized something: there were no elders here.

This was more than odd: the Nesz elders would naturally be
here to greet them, as they would be the ones to make the
important decisions. In fact Vlu, one of the chief elders, was a
good friend of hers and would certainly be a part of any move the
Nesz would make.

"We do not know." Dra answered. "It began about a week
after you left. Once there had been only a bare handful of
Yuuzhan Vong actually on the planet, enough to oversee their
creatures and slaves, now there are hundreds. They raided deep
into areas not yet changed into coral fields. They had left places
they were not immediately using alone before and only set traps
near the territories they occupied, so we thought we were safe."
Dra shook his head.

"It was...beyond my power to describe. The invaders are
now intent on crushing and enslaving the Nesz completely, down
to the last hatchling. They will not tolerate even one free Nesz on
this world. We do not know the reason for this."


Vergere's stomach twisted. She knew why the Vong were
so intent to subdue the Nesz when they had once been seen simply
as animals to be used at need and otherwise left alone: she was that
reason.

Nom Anor had seen Oin with Vergere, so the Yuuzhan
Vong knew the Nesz had been helping her, a Jedi, spy on them and
ruin their plans. This was done to punish the Nesz for defying
them, and to remove the natives' potential threat.

"We had to fight back." Dra said defiantly, defending their
actions. Violence was not even a crime among the Nesz: it was
almost completely unknown. "We had to defend ourselves." Oin
glanced at Dra's bow, arrows and spear, which the Nesz leader had
unthinkingly laid near at hand. Yes, they were learning quickly.
"But often it was not enough." He squeezed his single eye shut.

"Dra," Oin said quietly, "where is Vlu? He more than any
other should be here." For a moment Dra did not respond, then he
slowly raised his head to meet Oin's eyes with a grieving gaze.

"Vlu...joined the Eternals...a few days ago." He answered.
One of the Nesz lay a clawed hand on Dra's forearm, he accepted
it wordlessly. "He was weary, weakening, he had to be helped to
walk and could not scale the trees with the rest of us, nor could he
hunt." Dra swallowed. "He called me forward and told me I
would lead in his stead. He said he was a risk to us and we would
have a better chance evading the enemy patrols without him." Dra
swallowed and forced himself to continue. "He left us and walked
into the swamp."

Vergere could say nothing, could think of nothing. Of
course that was how Vlu would do it that way: no Nesz could bring
himself to do harm to another. But it was still horrible in more
ways than a stranger would understand. The Nesz would be aware
of what Vlu experienced, all of them.

"There has been less pressure lately." Dra went on,
obviously changing the subject. "We were hoping you could
provide an explanation." The Jedi nodded for him to continue. "It
started the day you returned: we saw a battle in the sky, the
invaders' ships fought against flyers that resembled the one Oin
had seen just before you left."


Vergere remembered: the Yuuzhan Vong had captured an
Imperial TIE fighter and its Chiss pilot, it had been the Empire's
presence so near this world that had prompted Sang Anor to try
and have Thrawn assassinated in the first place. "Imperial craft."
She said.

"There were more Yuuzhan Vong than Imperials," Dra
continued, "and they were forced to the ground. Then there was a
great explosion in the sky."

"That was us." Oin put in.

"Since then the Imperials, those you call human and Chiss,
have been wandering around swamps. The Yuuzhan Vong have
been concentrating on them, and so have mostly left us alone. It
has been a great relief."

"Have you tried to make contact with the Imperials?"
Vergere asked.

"Almost from the second they landed." Dra nodded. "We
tried to use some of the Basic phrases you taught us, but they shot
at our scouts the moment they revealed themselves."

"They probably thought you were Yuuzhan Vong
creatures." The Jedi put in.

"Possibly, but we didn't take another such chance. Since
then our scouts have simply followed their progress, nothing
more."

"They are strong," one of the Nesz said, "and have powerful
weapons. They have fought off the Yuuzhan Vong so far."

"Not for much longer." Dra shook his head. "The Yuuzhan
Vong are herding them into a trap. In just over an hour all the
Imperials here will be slaughtered." He grimaced. "Then they will
go back to hunting Nesz."

"We need to help them." Vergere had been unaware that
she was about to speak until the words were out of her mouth. She
blinked and the four seated Nesz were all looking at her.

"No," Dra shook his head, "we would run the risk of being
caught in the Vong trap as well, I will not risk more Nesz lives
than I must."


"Your people know these swamps, Dra," Vergere pressed.
She had spoken out of instinct alone, and as her Master had always
told her, it meant she was hearing the will of the Force clearly.
"You know them better than the Yuuzhan Vong ever could, that is
the only reason you have been able to hide and resist them this
long. If anyone can get help them with impunity, it is the Nesz."

"They would be a great help against the Vong." Oin put in.
"And helping them would put us in good terms with the Imperial
forces when they arrive." Vergere glanced at him, but he did not
meet her eyes.

"They shot at us once," Dra narrowed his single eye, but
Vergere could tell he was relenting, "what if they will not listen to
us?"

"I will make them listen." Vergere promised, but she was
confused despite the confidence she put in her voice. Why would
Oin back her up? He knew as well as she did that nothing would
deter Thrawn from his goal: razing this world to the ground to
cleanse it of the Yuuzhan Vong.

"Very well." Dra said at last. "If you can convince the
Imperials to accept our help, then the Nesz will guide them away
from the ambush."

*****************************************************
Stent scowled and rapped the comm link with his knuckle,
but he only got static.

"I could have done that." Kelli said dryly. "I let you try and
fix it because I thought you knew what you were doing."

"It works sometimes." Stent said defensively. He glanced
briefly at the human pilot. Mov Kelli had been the leader of one of
the three parties of Imperials. That was, before circumstance had
forced the three bands to combine once again.

The Imperials were taking a brief rest from the steady
marching, but were still alert with weapons at the ready in case
anything should approach the defense perimeter. They were
moving in the only direction open to them: due west. Stent didn't
like it, and his unease grew with every step they took. He was sure
the others felt the same way: one had to have almost extraordinary
senses to be a pilot, after all, sense enough to know when you were
walking into a sarlacc's maw at any rate.

Stent glanced around. "One up side to all this," Kelli said,
"the Yuuzhan Vong have managed to do what a thousand
regulations and remonstrations couldn't: get humans and Chiss to
word together without a complaint." Stent had to agree. The
pilots, human and Chiss, were sitting or standing side-by-side,
sometimes back-to-back as they treated wounds and spoke in low
voices. The soldiers had been forced to depend on each other for
so long and so completely that the practiced contempt for all other
races had eroded away.

"I'm glad you still have your sense of humor." Stent said as
he leaned against one of the massive trees.

"You have to have to do something, Stent. Now about that
comm link-"

"I would say it just needs retuning." Both Imperial spun,
weapons drawn and pointed in the direction of the strange voice.
There was no one there.

"Uh!" Kelli grunted as something shoved him past Stent.
The human fell face-first in the grass while Stent whirled back
around to face the assailant: a small, slender figure in a hooded
cloak. He swung his blaster toward the figure, but the weapon
seemed to turn to ice in his hand. Before Stent's unbelieving eyes
the blaster flew out of his grip.

The next thing he knew there was a blade of violet light in
the cloaked one's feathered hands. The Jedi flicked her wrist and
the lightsaber blade was all but touching the side of Stent's neck.
The Jedi bounded forward in a graceful leap, seized Stent's
shoulder in a surprisingly strong grip and spun him around.

By now the rest of the Imperials knew something was
happening, and Vergere and her captive were the focus of sixty-
some blasters. The Jedi exerted some pressure on Stent's shoulder,
forcing the taller Chiss to bend his knees until his head was level
with hers.

"Tell them to lower their weapons." She told him, glad that
Imperial-ingrained discipline had kept the pilots from simply
opening fire. So was Stent, as she was using him as a shield and
standing in front of the bora tree, there was no way the
Imperials could shoot her in the back: the only way to get her
would be to blast through Stent himself.

"That's the Jedi who tried to kill the Grand Admiral!" One
of the pilots exclaimed. The Imperial kept their weapons trained
on them.

"You've got the wrong version.? Vergere spoke to Stent,
but somehow she was heard by all of them. "I saved Thrawn's
life. Believe me, if I had been trying to kill him, he'd be dead.
The same with you."

"Why are you here then, Jedi, if not to fight us?" Stent
gasped as he tried to edge away from the burning blade that was
not-quite-scorching his flesh.

"To help you. Now tell them to lower their weapons. All I
want is a chance to talk and your word that I can leave in peace if
you choose not to accept my help."

"You are in no position to set conditions." Stent's eye's
gleamed. "Even if you kill me, you can't fight all of us at once.
Release me and hand over your weapon and I will listen to you."

"I'll do no such thing." Vergere rolled her eyes, why was
all this aggressive posturing necessary?

"You're surrounded." Stent pointed out.

"On the contrary," Vergere grinned, "you are." She raised
her free hand over Stent's head. On that signal, an arrow seemed
to sprout from one of the trees, disturbingly near a pilot's head.
Another appeared in the ground, inches from Stent's feet. The
Imperials scrambled, trying to take cover against snipers. A few
kept their blasters trained on Stent and Vergere, the rest aimed at
the surrounding trees and high grass.

"I warn you," the Jedi said in another all-encompassing
voice, "open fire and my allies will do likewise." She turned her
violet eyes to the back of Stent's head. "Now, do we fight or talk?
It's your choice."


Stent clenched his teeth and for a moment his eyes flashed
rebelliously, then his shoulders slumped. "Very well, Jedi. Lower
your weapons!" He shouted. An instant later the heat beside his
neck had disappeared and the hand released its grip on his
shoulder. He straightened and spun around to confront the Jedi,
but though he towered over her, she was clearly far from
intimidated.

"A wise choice." Vergere clipped the lightsaber handle to
her belt and arranged herself in a sitting position. "Now, will you
have a seat?"