Dark Legacy

by Djuva

With Yana Dar's death now official the Council has to move quickly to prevent a civil war on Byss and curb Naas Deron's excesses as he follows his call as Cor'dan.

15. A Ghost from the Past

Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master and currently trying to edge his ship through the dense traffic around Nirauan, felt like cursing. He should have known that Domain Carr would not stay idle. Space around the former Chiss outpost was fairly teeming with ships. Not worldships, but the new types, sleek vessels that could move at deadly speed and that the New Republic navy feared with reason. But he had believed that the best way to begin his investigation would be the stronghold of Yana's staunchest enemies. Domain Carr had always refused to bend to the Empress' rule and had rather chosen exile in this remote sector of the Empire than make the humiliating journey to Byss and ask to be included on the Advisory Council.

Luke knew, of course, that he would be seen as enemy too, once he revealed his identity. It had been his father, after all, who had killed the Domain's proudest member, the late Warmaster Marayl Carr. So far the Jedi Master had not given much thought on how he was going to approach the domain's elder. But perhaps he would not even have to bother with that. From Domain Carr's hostile stance toward the Empress he had concluded that they would not look kindly upon any alien race to settle on Nirauan. Therefore the unannounced arrival of a human would certainly draw attention, perhaps even the elder's attention. Luke would only have to survive long enough to get to speak to him or her.

But as he edged the Morning Glory closer toward the major port, he saw that there were other non-Yuuzhan Vong ships in approach toward the planet. Most of them he recognised as belonging to the Corporate Sector, a territory he knew very well too. He was both pleased and concerned by this find. On one hand it meant he would blend in much better than anticipated and would have the opportunity to gauge the mood incognito before he approached the domain but on the other hand this posed a very obvious question: what dealings did the Corporate Sector have with Domain Carr? He was still mulling over that when he gained permission to land for a moderate fee, which surprised him no less than the presence of Corporate Sector ships.

After having settled the formalities with the dockmaster, Luke decided to have a look around the port and felt reminded of many a previous adventure. By custom, he sought out a bar first, and found one not far from where his ship was berthed. It was a shed, really, but well frequented. Easing his way into the crowd, the Jedi Master kept his senses alert. Since it was impossible to gain a place in one of the booths, he settled for positioning himself halfway between the bar and the kitchen. Usually, there would be a second exit into the backyard through the kitchen, and he wanted to be prepared, just in case. He had just ordered a drink when a tall alien brushed past him carelessly, almost pushing him over. The alien, a Falleen, turned his head to look at whoever had dared bar his path that way, and gasped in surprise once he became aware of Luke. But then the alien shook his head, as if dismissing a thought from his mind, and went about his business. Luke followed him instantly. .

"Excuse me. Sir," he began, his voice low but powerful.

The Falleen turned, mustered him coolly, then crossed his arms over his chest, "Do you want an apology, or what, human? Well, you won't get it. And now be off. I have no wish to converse with you."

"No?" Luke smiled and edged a little closer. "I believe you thought you knew me. I was wondering who it was I reminded you of."

"And why should I tell you?" the Falleen snarled, "You are either an arrogant prat or a yearling. You're too old for the latter, so I assume you're simply too stupid to know what is good for you."

"You might be mistaken;" Luke answered softly and drew back his cloak for a brief moment to reveal the handle of his lightsaber that hung from his belt. "My name is Luke Skywalker. I am certain you have heard of me," he concluded calmly.

"Jedi," the Falleen breathed, his eyes wide. Suddenly he grabbed Luke's arm and dragged him away, into the back of the bar. "It's okay," he told the tall human lurking at the staircase, then hurried up to the first floor. "Come," he urged the Jedi Master. "Perhaps you know the man I thought was you."

Bewildered and somewhat excited, Luke followed the alien down the hallway. "This' my little home," the Falleen explained as he opened a door with a lockcard. "Not much, I know, but I can't afford much."

"Why here?" Luke asked pointedly, surveying the poor chamber. A bed stood against one wall, a kitchen unto against the other. The rest of the floor was bare and a few coveralls hung from a peg on the third wall.

The Falleen shrugged. "Take a seat," he said then, pointing toward the bed. Luke declined with a shake of his head. "Please yourself. You're a Jedi Master, right? I knew a Jedi Master once, back in the Corporate Sector. You reminded me of him, a bit. Though he was quite a bit taller than you are, and he had this scar, of course. But for a moment I thought … " he trailed off, shook his head. "My name is Bray La," he introduced himself at last.

But Luke did not really hear him. The description of the Jedi Master had triggered a memory, of a wondrous tale shared with his father many years back. "This Jedi Master, was his name Alamys, by chance?" he asked softly, feeling his knees tremble. "You knew him?"

"Vanished without a trace, after he'd promised me to keep an eye on the slip of a girl who's now Empress. I never knew what happened to him," Bray La explained. "Do you?"

"He died," the Jedi answered with a nod. "The late Emperor murdered him." Eyes hardening, he added, "He was my grandfather."

Bray La gave a heart-felt groan, then threw Luke a smile. "You certainly look a bit like him. And you seem to have picked up on his habits. You're an investigator, are you not? That was what he did too. Investigate." His expression grew serious all of a sudden. "He was mad, I think. Not an easy man to deal with. But he was my friend. If you need any help out here, I'll do what I can."

"Actually," Luke confessed, moved by the Falleen's generosity, "that was what I hoped you'd say. I'd appreciate it. I need to know everything I can about Domain Carr. And about my grandfather."

Bray La gazed at him for a while, then nodded. "You sure you don't want to sit down? No?" He took the privileged seat on the bed himself, when Luke again declined. "I've been here for a while, you see, a few years. Before Alamys vanished from Weyla he warned me that I might be in danger if he did not return. That I needed to leave the planet and go to ground somewhere. And when he did not return, but the girl did, telling me that she thought he'd been captured and that I was to protect her, I knew that his worst fears had come to pass. I hoped not, of course, but I did take him seriously. Always."

"Why Nirauan?" Luke asked, truly curious. "This does not seem to be a very  - friendly - world."

"Because of the Vong?" Bray La smiled. "They've changed the place, but I daresay it is efficient enough, as a port. But what do I know? I've been a customs officer on Weyla, you know?"

"That is very interesting," Luke suggested, "but what do you know about Domain Carr? Who is the elder?"

"Ah, of course. His name is Tikoon. Marayl Carr's brother or something. I remember when Marayl's son defied his domain and became follower of that sorcerer on Byss. The entire port was lying low until he'd cooled off." The Fallen guffawed with laughter. "The poor boy."

"Marayl Carr's son?"

"You've not heard?" Bray La asked. "It was all over the holonet."

"I did not keep in touch," the Jedi Master confessed, "I wanted to think about my mission - investigation," he corrected himself. "so what is this news?"

Leaning toward him conspiratorially, Bray La told him, "The princess' bodyguard, Mahel Siivaraya, is a Yuuzhan Vong. He vanished along with her on Bakura."

"So?"

"Sivaraya is not the name he was born to. His name, before he went to Byss, was Lomin Domain Carr."

"Marayl Carr's son."

"Exactly."

Luke exhaled slowly. "And did the Empress know, do you think?"

"Her consort certainly did. He's very thorough where it concerns his family's safety," Bray La said approvingly. "He'd never let his family down. Contrary to Tikoon. Mahel Sivaraya's an outcast now. None of his kin will talk to or about him, except for this sister of his."

"Sister?" Luke mused aloud, wondering. If Franzis Sarreti had known about Mahel Sivaraya's past, why then had he allowed the Yuuzhan Vong to become Luzaya's bodyguard? Was he trying to finally neutralise the threat of Domain Carr lurking at the edges of the Empire by compromising them in kidnapping his daughter? It would be a master-stroke, and worthy of the ex-Imperial Assassin's wit. The only problem, of course, was that no Yuuzhan Vong, once he had been cast out by his domain, could compromise his domain, no matter what crime he or she committed. Then why assign Mahel Sivaraya as Luzaya's guardian? This had to be about more than just petty revenge. In fact, this hinted at a plan with more far-reaching consequences. A ploy designed by the 'sorcerer' on Byss, Naas Deron? But the Cor'dan's aim in this gamble was elusive, even to a Jedi Master. He frowned at the Falleen, then asked, "Where can we meet this sister?"

"Her name is Warrahm," Bray La, replied with a shrug, "She's a general in the Imperial Border Fleet."

"Which border?" Luke asked, his brows arched in surprise. Apparently Mahel Sivaraya was not the only of Marayl Carr's offspring who had chosen against the family. But contrary to her brother her martial career was obviously more acceptable.

"The Chiss Empire," Bray La said.

This time Luke smiled. "And how come you know so much about this domain?"

The Falleen shrugged once more, "Well, I got to keep a hobby out here. Else it can get a little boring."

"Boring? I think life won't get boring for quite a while. For both of us. If you want to accompany me?"

"Depends. Where to?"

"Csilla."

He was surprised to find himself alone in his prison, a simple room with no windows and a single bed bolted to the floor. As dreary as any he had ever seen, as captive or captor. Restlessly pacing the small expanse of the room, to the bed and back to the three stairs that led down into the room from the door, Franzis Sarreti felt anxious for his wife. Where was she? Jiliha had not spoken to him once he had been put under arrest, and his questions concerning the empress had fallen on deaf ears. But he had hoped that they would be put in this cell together, a foolish thought, he admitted in hindsight. Jiliha was not so foolish as to allow the couple to reassure one another and make plans to escape together. All the more bewildered was the Royal Consort when the door opened after a few hours and two soldiers helped his wife into the small room.

Franzis' heart skipped a beat with the joy of seeing her. A nasty gash was cut across her forehead, and he winced at the sight. Obviously Jiliha had thought of ridding the Empress of the neural implants that would allow her to communicate with the great yammosk on Kynda'bey, the distant ocean world. With the yammosk's help Yana would have been able to exert control over every other Yuuzhan Vong implanted with the controllers, which were most of the soldiers and high ranking priests. It had been one of the anchors Franzis had set his hopes in, but seeing Yana like this ruled out that possibility. Easing toward her concernedly, he reached out to embrace her, and the soldiers released their quarry to let her weight rest on him alone instantly. Staggering back with a grunt when her knees gave way and she fell into his arms heavily, Franzis sank to his knees in confusion, Yana still wrapped in his embrace.

"Yana?" Gently wiping the sweat-soaked threads of blonde curls from her face he raised her chin to look into her eyes. She did not react. There was no flicker of emotion on her features, no recognition in her eyes. They had not been blinded, he could tell, but somehow she did not seem to register him at all. Suddenly fearful, Franzis began talking to her rapidly. "What happened? Yana, can you hear me?"

No reaction at all.

For a moment he sat like that, his wife cradled in his arms, and his mind was totally blank. Only gradually did his brain resume working and soon supplied an explanation for the state Yana found herself in. Her brain had been damaged by the operation, it had to be that. And if he knew Jiliha at all, she would have ordered that done deliberately. The revelation caused his heart to shrink a little more, and he drew in a sharp breath, wanting to cry out in despair, but unable to. Not with Yana in his arms. Not when she needed him to be strong. Not when he was her only hope of salvation. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he hugged his wife closer, and kissed her mutilated forehead.

"It'll be all right," he assured her in a whisper, "You'll see."

She did not respond, staring into the distance indifferently as he slipped her left arm around his shoulder and hoisted her upright. Walking carefully, he dragged her limp body over to the single bed and put her down very tenderly.

"You're in shock, Yana," he explained, speaking more to himself than to the woman who lay unmoving on the thin mattress and continued gazing at the ceiling. "You'll recover. I'll be there for you, my love. Always." He sat down on his haunches beside the bed, his elbows resting on the bed-frame, his chin settled on his hands. "Shall I tell you a story?"

So he began his tale, talking until his voice was raw. And when the light in the cell went out, he wrapped Yana in the single blanket to make sure she was not cold. He did not sleep that night. But Yana never woke from her stupor.

By the next morning his hope had dwindled a little further away. Where was Naas Deron? What was the Cor'dan doing? What was the Advisory Council doing? Did it still exist? And if so, in what constellation? Who was supporting Jiliha, and who was secretly, or openly, opposing her? All these questions he needed to be answered, and still, he had no illusions concerning their usefulness. As long as he was not allowed to participate, he could do nothing. Shoulders slumping, Franzis sat on the edge of the bed, feeling helpless. It was not a feeling he liked. Not at all. With a sigh, he turned his head to gaze down at Yana. His wife lay unmoving on the mattress, her eyes open. She was breathing evenly, and that reassured her husband somewhat. Yet the apparent normalcy was so deceptive. He was not used to not having her attention when they were together, not used to that special bond between them, that he always felt when she was close, missing from her presence.

"Do you think Luzaya is all right? That Mahel is protecting her well? I believe so," he told her then.

His throat constricted as he suppressed a sob. But he did not want to give Jiliha any more of his despair. He knew what she was trying to do by showing him exactly what she had made of his wife. She knew him too well, far too well. But he loved Yana. And that love was stronger than any lesson he had ever learned, stronger than reason.

Stronger than hate.

Alowyn Kattaran certainly was not like any NRI agent they had ever encountered, that was something Jaina found out very quickly. He was moody and moved as if he were uncomfortable with his surroundings. Even aboard his own ship. It made her wonder what had happened to him to make him hate the Yuuzhan Vong and the Sith Empress and her consort that much. The young woman had met both Luzaya's mother and father. In fact, she remembered blissful days she had spent on Byss with the princess, playing the days away. No matter what, Franzis Sarreti would come around every few hours to check on the children himself, never trusting the nannies and guards assigned to care for them. To Jaina he had always seemed gentle, a caring father, much like her own, with the distinction that Franzis Sarreti never stooped to playing alongside the children, as Han Solo had done. He would sit down somewhere quiet and read some report or other, content with his daughter being within arm's reach. Yana Dar had never participated much in family life, as far as Jaina could tell. She had seen her once or twice as a child, and she had appeared polite but distant. Nothing about either one had struck her as being particularly loathsome.

And Luzaya adored her parents.

Seated on her bunk aboard Kattaran's ship, knees hugged to her chest and her chin resting atop them, Jaina was thinking about her own parents. She'd had a happy childhood, she thought, with her twin brother as companion, sheltered and loved by their parents. They had always been there, even when Mother had been off world on a mission, the children could always contact her, if needed. Sheltered lives. And now? Now they were truly on their own, travelling with a man they did not trust, and she had the distinct feeling that neither she nor her brother had any idea what it truly meant to bear all responsibility themselves. A hard lesson then. Her grand-father would have approved, she mused, wondering what Anakin was doing right now. With a sigh she unfolded her legs and stood, determined to find Jacen and talk to him. About what, she wasn't yet sure. But being in Jacen's presence was better than spending even more time mulling over the future on her own.

It came to her then, very suddenly, that Luzaya was not the only one who loved her parents unconditionally. And yet, just as the Solo twins had done by deciding to follow Alowyn Kattaran, she, too, had realized that it was time to go on without her beloved mother and father. The thought was elating, somehow, but there was a bitter-sweet touch to it also. Shaking her head ever so slightly, Jaina smiled wistfully, then went in search of her brother. It was then that she caught first sight of a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She turned around swiftly, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. Carefully, a cold shower raining down her back, she turned back again, toward the forward hold of the ship, where she could sense Jacen to be, meditating, she thought. And there the shadow was again. This time she forced herself to remain calm and tried to make out anything that would tell her what that shadow meant. Reaching out to the Force she committed to its flow and tried to touch the wraith, but there was nothing to hold on to. Edgy now, the young woman turned her head ever so slightly, making it seem a casual move, and then, for a tiny moment, she saw. Her breath caught in her throat as she was reminded of a story Luzaya had told her proudly, oh so many years ago. Of a little boy, clad in soft leather pants, his young body already showing the signs of a hard life, yet his eyes, pale green, sparkled with mischief and wonder. Black braids framed his thin face, and there was a solemn air about him that Jaina had come to know too, had seen before on her grand-father's face.

She knew that boy.

Unable to control her fear and surprise, Jaina responded instinctively, and rounded on the spirit, meaning to confront it. Running never was an option, that she knew. Not with this creature. The boy stared at her, his fragile features at odds with his history. Jaina remembered his name then. "Liyuma," she called softly, using the name as a spell to bind him. The look of fear in his eyes told her that her ruse had succeeded and she felt incredibly proud of herself. Who could ever have claimed to be able to bind Roj Kell's spirit before her? Walking closer to the wraith, very carefully, expecting him to attack her at any time, she studied him more closely. He seemed to be shaking, and his pale skin looked clammy and cold. "What do you want?" she asked at last, reasonably secure in her power. Roj Kell was dead, had been for a long time. She was not afraid of him, not in the guise he appeared in before her now. The boy was silent, and the fear in his eyes increased as she stepped even closer, to loom over his slender frame as only an adult could. It felt so good! To have that power over this being, to be able to control him. And then the sweet moment faded, as she became fully aware of just what she was thinking. Her features falling, Jaina dropped down on her haunches before the boy, so her eyes were level with his. "I am sorry," she breathed, and truly felt it. Why had she ever thought of intimidating him so? He was just a child! A tear slid down his cheek, and unconsciously his hand came up to wipe it away. A small hand, she noted, very small. He could be no more than eight years of age. And then, despite everything she knew about him, everything she had been taught, Jaina reached out to run her fingers soothingly along his jaw, for comfort. And froze.

She stands at the mouth of a cave, the dawn at her back, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hands grip her own elbows so hard that her arms are trembling. But she cannot interfere, she has to have that hold, or she will go mad with the sight spread before her. She can hear their cries, can see their bodies, so full of life, bleed toward death, can feel them being slaughtered, can sense their terror like a most exquisite cocktail of fear and pain. She can barely stand the feel of it. A massacre, she thinks, and knows, just then, what has caused it. Whose body she occupies. When this massacre is taking place. Jaina Solo knows her history, and that of Roj Kell. This is N'zoth, and what she is witnessing is the genocide he has caused, the death of the Yevetha. But why is he standing so still, why is he not doing something? She wonders. Participating in the slaughter, is what she means. Her eyes have grown accustomed to the gloom now, and she can see who is conducting the massacre of innocents. They are Yevetha. Male, she believes, and they seem in a killing frenzy, their great talons ripping at flesh with uninhibited pleasure. Jaina feels sick to her stomach, and suddenly wonders whether she is feeling what he does.

Forced to look on as he does, she feels her heart grow cold. And then she can feel it. Like tendrils of warmth that search the cave for every scrap of fear, every boust of terror and pain and lap it up hungrily. He feeds on it, she thinks, horrified. But then she sees that her vision is flawed. He is Cor'dan. The Heart of Darkness. Her grand-father explained the meaning of that word to her once, and she remembers now as she watches through his eyes, reaches out to the dying with his senses, and takes their horror into herself, to return the warmth of his love, to lend comfort even as they die. Hating as he does so, hating with all his being, the force that renders him helpless to do more. Jaina shrinks back in the face of his fury, unable to comprehend, not wanting to comprehend, what his hatred means. That he is a rebel, a traitor to his own heritage. That he is out of control, despite all safe-guards that were imposed on his spirit when he first chose to sacrifice his life for a higher calling. He has chosen now. And there is not stopping him from what he is doing, for he is Cor'dan. And sometimes a bond can run both ways. Reeling back from the force of the revelation, Jaina awakens.

The boy, his pale eyes infinitely sad, leans forward to embrace her swiftly, then disappears. "I am sorry," she whispers, once more, and tears fall from her eyes. "I am sorry for your loss." Swallowing fiercely she lets her eyes mirror her anger. "But what the hell does it mean?"

Far away, on the planet called Byss, Naas Deron felt a subtle change in his own heart, a signal of sorts that alerted him to the workings of an alien presence in his realm of power. A disturbing discovery, especially now that he was trying to think up a plan of attack and defense that would suit his situation and purposes. Jiliha n'Averone would make her claim to the Empire's throne soon, but she would first need to sow the seeds of trust she needed to have the New Republic show toward her. Her allies within that realm would be busy aiding her cause, he was certain of that. But there was still Luzaya to consider. Contrary to her parents he knew where his young charge was. Yet the presence of a pair of Chiss agents with her had now brought another player into the game. The Chiss Emperor was a cunning creature and his motives selfish where they concerned his people. How would he react to the news of Yana's apparent betrayal of her people? Would he accept Jiliha in her place? Deron doubted it. Then what choice did the Chiss have? Fight the Sith Empire and thus pitch the New Republic against itself? Not a happy thought.

"Cor'dan." It was Cordell Tryway who approached him cautiously, not wanting to disrupt the priest's musings.

"Any news?" Deron asked likewise, not even looking at the man.

Tryway fidgeted for a moment, then sighed. "I tried to ask around, as you suggested, Excellency," he offered. "And I found a few who thought n'Averone was wrong to push this issue of treason. They – say that the Vong deserve it anyway." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Not what you wanted, is it?"

"Not quite," the Cor'dan amended.

He needed allies, yes, but not allies who were only willing to assist him in order to punish the Yuuzhan Vong. But how to get them on his side? How to inspire them? His thoughts began to drift then, as an idea unfolded. What was it they feared most? A Yuuzhan Vong uprising. If he gave it to them it would drive them toward Jiliha's camp, which would be exactly the opposite of what he needed. And Jiliha would not be so stupid as to move against the human citizens of the Empire, lest she lose their loyalty. In fact, it came to him that there had been only one person in the past who had understood how to balance the needs of the Empire's people, and that was Yana Dar. But the empress was incapacitated, and her husband alongside her. The fool. Naas Deron shook his head grimly at the man's stubbornness. Unfortunately the Cor'dan could not see a clear path yet. Too muddled was his vision, too uncertain the allegiance of those he depended on. And now this unknown presence that threatened to interfere, that did interfere, sensed like a faint stirring in the distance. He could not pinpoint its location, nor could he even guess at its identity.

It was truly disturbing him.

With a suppressed sigh he straightened in his seat and gazed out into infinity, thinking. Perhaps a catalyst was needed to remind the people of the Sith Empire of the value of unity. But what catalyst could that be, what could he use without jeopardizing his goal? What common ground was there between Yuuzhan Vong and what other species the Empire housed? There was only one answer, he knew. He had nurtured it over the years, along with the Empress herself, a wild spirit that swirled like a torch through the bitter ranks of long-grown hatred. Where she went the darkness lit up with fondness and joy, and she did it unconsciously, just by being herself. Luzaya. And if Jiliha ever dared threaten her, she would be done for. Deron did not doubt a minute that killing Luzaya Dan was exactly what the new Empress strove for; that she would never voice that particular aspect of her strategy aloud went without saying. She would pretend to worry for the princess, call on her to return, call on Mahel Sivaraya to release the girl … And thereby increase the hatred for the Yuuzhan Vong. How could her true intentions be exposed?

A low growl emanated from his throat. He could not afford to wait too long on his enemies. They were even now searching for him and would not be content before he was defeated. Time to choose sides. Time to see whether the seeds he had planted had grown to fruition. Time to make it known that the Cor'dan did not, and would never, be a weapon of human making. He could feel the flow of power within him, the approval of his plan. Rising at last from his seat he turned to stare at Cordell Tryway, watching the pudgy man wring his hands anxiously.

"My lord?" the landlord quavered, terrified. "What is it?"

Show me my allies, the Cor'dan commanded, and the force within complied. Familiar faces, and unfamiliar ones, appeared before him, centered around a blurred visage, undoubtedly the one who was interfering so subtly. Angrily, Deron tried to discern the creature's identity, but it refused to yield to him. He gave up at last, exasperated, then briskly walked past Tryway. "Show me to those people you talked to," he commanded. "I will speak to them."

"Cor'dan!" Tryway exclaimed, then continued more softly, once the priest's attention was on him once more, "They do not approve of you. Your congregation is small, and they fear Jiliha's wrath," he explained. "Will they listen?

Naas Deron shrugged, a sardonic smile on his lips. "I am Cor'dan, Master Tryway. I am a priest. They will listen. They will believe. Trust me."

It was hard to describe his feelings as he strode alongside Cordell Tryway down the walkways spanning the city that night, careful not to draw attention, careful not to be seen. Anticipation, perhaps, or triumph. He was not sure. He had thought long and hard about what to say to the people who had assembled on Cordell's pleading to hear the Cor'dan speak. He hoped it would be enough. No. he knew it had to be enough. Flexing his fingers, itching for the chance of fighting this war on a much simpler level, Naas Deron fought down his anxiety, trusting in the power that guided his mind toward the inevitable. This speech tonight, then Jiliha's counter-strike. And then, at last, sweet, blessed sacrifice. With a shudder the Cor'dan revelled in the vision of that future, and smiled. No matter who it was who was messing with the Force, the Cor'dan would come out on top of this game. It had always been that way, and that pattern would not ever change. That reassuring thought boosted his confidence immensely, as he followed Cordell into the mouldy depth of an ancient warehouse, abandoned now. There were people assembled here, his own congregation, or what remained of them. He knew that Jiliha was doing what she could to imprison the Cor'dan's believers, using flimsy excuses to have them arrested. He could not stop her from doing just that. Yet. It hurt his own status, he knew, but that would change soon enough. And he would begin tonight.

Gracefully moving across the floor he felt all eyes on his black-clad bulky frame, and he could easily visualise what they saw in him. A priest, mysterious and powerful, awe-inspiring and dreadful. He drew shadows where he went, let them swirl around his boots like excited puppies. At last he stopped and faced the assembly. Most of them were human, but there were a few aliens too, but no Yuuzhan Vong. He noted their absence grimly, but knew there was nothing to be done about that yet. Mustering his small army, knowing that there would soon be more, he began to speak, and his voice was compelling, its enforced light drawing their minds like a flame would draw moths to their doom. "Treason," he said, the single word cutting through their minds mercilessly. "Betrayal," he continued, leaving a tiny pause to emphasise that meaning. "Have we been betrayed?" he asked, only to answer himself, "Yes, we have been betrayed and deceived. And because of that betrayal we have now lost our fiercest defender to the enemy. I ask you, can we tolerate that? Will we cower in Jiliha n'Averone's shadow, afraid to stand up and claim our rights? I think not." He smiled coldly, looking at their frozen faces. "I know what you are thinking," he purred, his voice low. "You believe Jiliha will never hurt you, that she will concentrate on the Yuuzhan Vong only, and you believe that, just perhaps, they have deserved to be treated as traitors, as enemies. But if you think she will spare your freedom you are mistaken." His sharp gaze turned on a tall human standing in the second row of the congregation, and his black eyes betrayed his cold anger as he said, "And never believe that sacrificing me would benefit you either. I am the only one who can defend you now. The only one left." His words, infused with his innate power, reached deep into their hearts and rooted there. He watched it all, satisfied. "We have been betrayed," he repeated then, softly now. "And we must not let that betrayal continue."

Jacen stared at his sister slack-jawed as she related the tale of her encounter with Liyuma in whispered words, her face flushed with excitement. "What doe sit mean?" he asked, dumb-founded, once she was finished, and she replied with a low groan.

"How should I know?" she hissed fiercely. "Does it mean that he wasn't responsible for their deaths? Does it mean he triggered something dormant in their souls and let it blossom? I have no idea!"

"It can't have been a vision of the future, can it?" Jacen asked, suddenly terrified,

Jaina glared at him, then replied, "He's dead, brother."

"But alive enough to come bother you!" he retorted. "I don't like this , sis', I really don't. He's playing one of his games again, believe me."

She bit her lower lip anxiously, her brown eyes searching his warily. "And what if?" she asked softly. "What can we do?" A look of fear crossed her eyes before she continued, "He seemed so sad, Jacen. It hurt him to watch, I know that."

Jacen studied her for long moments, bereft of words. He had hoped, hell, they all had, that they would never again be bothered with old Kell and his games. Finally he said," Let's go see what Kattaran is planning for us."

Startled, Jaina followed him to the cockpit, where the agent was obviously preparing the ship's re-entry into real-space. "We've arrived?" Jacen asked as he let himself drop into one of the passenger seats.

"Almost there," Kattaran murmured. "Get strapped in, kid," he told Jaina then, a little gruffly.

She complied, sparing a questioning glance at her brother. But Jacen kept his silence and instead continued watching Kattaran. What was it that bothered him about the man? He seemed totally normal at first glance, but there was such hatred glimmering beneath that

surface that it was hard to read what was really eating him. Determined to find out some way, Jacen told himself to be patient, as the ship lurched out of hyperspace and hurtled toward a small planet that reached up instantly to envelop them in a storm of darkness. Gasping aloud, and hearing Jaina do the same, Jacen squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the assault of darkness most acutely.

"Where are we going?" he pressed out at last, addressing the pilot directly.

Turning around, a strange smile on his face, Alowyn Kattaran replied, "Home, darksider. Aren't you pleased?"

Immediately, Jacen felt dread reach for his heart, and he let his hand drop down to unfasten the crash-webbing that held him in place, but Kattaran let the ship bank sharply to the left and then went through a series of manoeuvres that let the g-forces tear at the siblings viciously. Jacen was close to blackening out when the vessel almost crashed into the planet's surface. Trembling, he watched the NRI agent leave his seat and casually walk out of the cockpit. There was a thud as if from a body hitting the deck, and then Jaina was beside him, her brown eyes blazing.

"Come on, Jacen," she breathed, "we got to follow him!"

"Where are we?" he asked back, stunned and frightened.

Her lips twisted in a grimace and she closed her eyes briefly before she answered, "Korriban."

Jacen's comment was heart-felt, "Shit." Suddenly another thought came to him, "Do you think Liyuma might be here also?" he asked, voice trembling.

"I don't think so," his sister replied solemnly, "Kell never liked being imprisoned. He wouldn't return here."

"Then we're on our own."

Jaina nodded at the ship's controls. "We have this," she offered.

"And what about Luzaya and Mahel? What if they are here?"

"Why should they - ? You mean – captured?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "Let's go," she snapped, then rose from her half-crouch.

Jacen, still feeling a little numb, followed her slowly. But soon the siblings drew together, intimidated by the prospect of facing whatever lurked outside all alone. Kattaran had left the ship, they could sense his presence outside, but unfortunately they could also sense other people around. Not to mention the vast whirlwind of darkness that span the planet like a shroud. Side by side they stepped onto the wet black stone of Korriban, both trembling in the hot gales of the planet, both intimidated by the oppressive blanket of everlasting dark clouds that hung uncomfortably low above the valley. They knew of this place, had demanded to hear the story of that particular adventure over and over again when they'd been younger, thrilled by the drama it posed. But now, standing here on this planet, so close to a Sith stronghold that they both could sense the evil that had been wrought here over millennia, that tale quickly turned into nightmare.

Alowyn Kattaran was standing alone a little way off, tall and intimidating, his blond hair a stark contrast to the planet's gloom.

"What're we gonna do?" Jaina whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

What indeed. Neither of them had a weapon that would stand against an experienced NRI agent, safe for the Force. But Jacen felt doubtful about using even that in this place, and he could sense the same reluctance in his sister. Would the planet itself not corrupt their deeds if they were to use the Force here? A dire prospect. But then he remembered something their grand-father had told them when they had been younger and begun their training as Force-adepts in the new tradition. "The difference is in your mind, your own perception", Jacen whispered. Beside him, he saw Jaina's head whip around and a frown on her face. She had understood. Nodding once, she took a step forward.

"Why have you brought us here?" she demanded, her voice loud and clear.

Across from them, Alowyn Kattaran seemed to smile. "Revenge," he replied at last. "For betrayal."

"You think Franzis Sarreti betrayed you when he surrendered the Empire to Yana Dar?" Jacen voiced the siblings' suspicion aloud.

The agent laughed mirthlessly, then shook his head. "You misunderstand, little ones," he hissed. "I believe we were humiliated and bound by infidels. Your kind," he spat, hatred in his eyes.

"Our kind?" Jaina repeated under her breath, stunned, but it was Jacen who caught on to what was happening.

"Yuuzhan Vong!" he called out in warning. Putting a hand on Jaina's shoulder he dragged her back toward the ship. "Let's go," he urged her, but she simply replied, "Too late."

Indeed, when he turned around toward the ship he could see that they weren't alone any longer. More people, human as well as Yuuzhan Vong had assembled in front of the ship, a grim wall of hostility. "What're we gonna do?" Jaina pleaded, hanging on to him.

"The caves," he prompted. "Beneath the temple."

The twins shared a horrified glance. Then Jaina nodded. "Guess we have no choice."

Turning back to where the Kattaran-thing stood, they saw that the alien was already getting rid of his human shell. How had he been able to fool the NRI? Jacen wondered suddenly. Their scanners must have shown his alien signature, right? No time to wonder. The Yuuzhan Vong was standing between them and the entrance to the underground maze of what had once been a burial site. And since none of the others seemed inclined to interfere Jacen edged closer toward the alien and the entrance, acutely aware of Jaina by his side. What to do about this Kattaran-imitator? Kill him, or incapacitate him? Jacen decided that first priority was reaching the caves. But then the Yuuzhan Vong, finally rid of his second skin, launched himself at the sibling. His face, honourably scarred, was a mask of rage as he swung an amphistaff at Jacen's chest, forcing the young man to reel back and drop to the slick ground. Jaina moved to intercept the alien, but Jacen saw at first glance that she would never succeed. Terrified, he reminded himself of what his grand-father had said. The difference is in your mind. He reached out to the forces running rampant on the planet and seized them, moulding them to his will. An instant later lightning flashed from the clouds, and Jacen grabbed his sister and hauled her away before it could strike.

"Run!" he yelled, making for the cave.

Together they half slid, half stumbled down into the cool darkness, into deadly silence. A few more minutes of headless flight followed, until Jaina stopped him, catching her breath. All around them the darkness was closing in, and Jacen knew with a sinking feeling that they were trapped.

"What now?" his sister asked, and he could sense her panic, even though he could not make out her features in the pitch-black darkness.

Suddenly a light appeared ahead, almost blinding them. A torchlight, carried by a little boy. Jacen froze, then forced himself to look at Jaina. She too, was staring rigidly at the apparition, then took a tentative step forward. "Liyuma," she called softly, as if afraid to scare the wraith off.

The boy beckoned for them to follow, and Jaina shrugged, before she took the lead. Uncomfortable, Jacen followed. The trio turned a corner, and suddenly the twins found themselves in quite another place. Stunned, the two of them gazed around at the lush jungle spreading before them, the gleaming ships of an unknown type that sat proudly on the green meadows surrounding them. And at the men and women of various species that bustled all around, seemingly agitated. They all wore ankle-length brown robes, creamy tunics bound with broad brown belts. And lightsabers.

"Jedi," Jaina whispered, awed. "Where's he gone?"

Indeed. Liyuma had vanished.

Jacen looked at his sister and felt his jaw drop. "You're wearing Jedi robes!" he exclaimed.

Bewildered, she turned to face him, frowned, and raised her brows meaningfully. "So are you."

And then all hell broke loose.

TBC