Chapter 13: There's Nothing Here For Me Now
iI hate this place. I hate this place. I hate this place/i The Sith Lady Sarlana hissed the litany in her mind as she followed her gaping companions through the halls of the palace in Theed. She smiled sweetly at them as both Anakin and Dorsca Cherrz pointed out the different wondrous sculptures, or the long tapestries that hung from the walls.
She was that malfunctioning droid again, pristine and shiny on the outside, hot wires sparking on the inside. What was truly sad about the analogy was that she preferred the spark to the shine.
It all came down to Naboo; in her youth, Sarlana had inundated Padami with requests for stories of her homeworld, stories that Padami had told with such vivid clarity that Sarlana had always felt she had already been to the planet, although this was her first time on Naboo. Padami had once been a handmaiden to the Queen of Naboo, a decoy, she had explained, a bodyguard to keep safe the leader of a whole planet. Ironic that Sarlana was now that decoy, a decoy for a person that did not even exist, except this was not for safety, but for destruction.
And who would she be destroying? Her eyes traced the lines of Anakin's face, the jawline that was a smooth line but had the hardness of muscle to it, those ice-chipped eyes that looked so deeply at her that she feared at any moment he would know her secret. What was it she feared? That he would learn too soon and destroy her Master's plan, or what his thoughts would be of her after he learned? She would destroy the one man she thought she loved.
iDon't think like that/i, she admonished herself. She couldn't love anybody, let alone a Jedi.
Pushing her thoughts away from the complication that Anakin Solo posed, of its own accord her mind turned to the day that Padami had died. A shiver coursed through her as the memories flooded over, not even dampened by the pass of time. She could remember merrily trotting into her caretaker's quarters, a young child who mirrored the image of Padami's lost daughter, a daughter Sarlana knew to be Leia Solo, finding her beloved caretaker lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood.
Sarlana had not been hardened as she was now, had not known that death could be the ultimate control over the rebellious beings of the galaxy, Nefarion had taught her that over time. No, this young child had been innocent, a bright spot that glowed like a supernova. On that day, the supernova had finally imploded. The effects of that moment in time still filled Sarlana. That event had caused her to embrace the path she now tread.
Blood had been everywhere, all she could see, and the rage that had filled her was unaccustomed for such a young child. Sarlana realized it was the conditioning of her training that had caused her to act the way she did.
"Analsa?" Anakin asked, and it was then that Sarlana noticed that the three of them had stopped, holding up their escort, a handmaiden who could very well be like Padami. Anakin's large thumb came up to brush a tear from her cheek.
She grabbed his hand, undecided as to whether she sought solace or rejection in the gesture. Weakling, fool, she cursed herself, and pushed Anakin's hand away from hers gently, but forcefully.
"Are you alright, M'lady?" the handmaiden asked, using the honorific, unsure of how to address Sarlana.
"Fine," Sarlana lied, dashing her finger underneath her eyes, mopping the residual moisture. She forced a laugh. "It's just so beautiful here."
Solo gave her a look that clearly said he did not buy it, and it frightened her how easily she could read his features. She returned it with a look of her own, telling him to back off, and the fact that he could read her again scared her all the more. This shouldn't be happening. I am a Sith, sworn to my Master to destroy the Jedi or bring them under his boot. I cannot entertain these notions.
Anakin turned to the handmaiden. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm afraid Naboo brings bittersweet memories to Analsa. She was born here, but her parents left during the Vong war."
The handmaiden nodded. "War leaves lasting impressions," she said sagaciously, and returned to leading them through the corridors. To the Queen's throne room.
As they walked, Sarlana sidled up next to Solo, her grief buried under her anger. "You should not have said that," she admonished out of the side of her mouth.
"Said what?" Solo pretended both ignorance and innocence.
"My past is not on display, Solo. You can speak only when I allow you to, understood?" Sarlana snapped, her anger finally coming out.
She recognized the hardness in his jaw. She had seen it on Bellalt, when she had disobeyed him and had snuck aboard the ship, it was a hardness that inexplicably quelled her. And she found herself wanting to backpedal on her harsh statement.
"Excuse me... M'lady," he exaggerated the honorific, his voice as cold as his ice-chipped eyes. "You asked to come on this mission." So he was finally playing that sabacc card. "I understand that this is hard for you, even if I don't understand the reason, but I am your senior and I will not take orders. Is that understood?"
She opened her mouth to retort, feeling the anger at having to pretend to be someone else, the doubt of her burgeoning feelings for this Jedi, and the dark memories that clung to her mind. They were about to explode from her like fire from a flamethrower when Cherrz spoke up from Anakin's other side.
"Perhaps you'd like to give the people of Naboo more to share gossip on," the Yuuzhan Vong muttered into his hand, jerking to several palace servants that were watching the exchange between Anakin and Sarlana with avid amazement.
To her surprise Anakin, gave her a pointed glare before smiling handsomely to a group of young palace keepers. The girls giggled, and Sarlana felt her blood heat in anger. Noting Sarlana's reaction, the Queen's handmaiden gave the keepers a baleful glare, silencing them as fast as melting bantha butter with a lightsaber. A genuine smile spread across Sarlana's features, aimed at the handmaiden. She imagined it would have been something Padami might have done; for a moment she felt as though her caretaker came back through this beautiful handmaiden.
"Jedi Solo," the handmaiden caught Anakin's attention. "The Queen is waiting."
Anakin, chagrined, nodded and bowed before the handmaiden. "I apologize for my distraction."
The handmaiden smiled an acceptance of his apology and continued to lead them to the palace throne room. Anakin and Sarlana made it a point not to look at one another for the rest of the meeting.
The throne room was just as Padami had described it. Long floor-to-ceiling panels of transparisteel, bathing the ceramic floor tile in a milky ambient light. Around the room were chairs of varying sizes, reminding Sarlana of the Jedi Council; however, these chairs were decorated more elaborately, with gold threading through the cushions, and the material the finest of shimmersilk. The Queen sat up straight on her throne, a commanding presence in such a petite form, much like Sarlana herself. Her dark auburn hair had been woven into a latticework of the finest laced shimmersilk, the color that matched the threading of her violet dress. The balancing red beauty marks were vibrant against the dove white of her painted face, her lip split by the scar of remembrance.
The Queen must always remember the weight of her decisions. That is why we keep the marks of the terrible wars that the Naboo once faced. But even then, you can only make a decision with the information you have in the moment. Queen Amidala learned that the hard way.
Most of all, Sarlana hated the fact that Padami had come to haunt her on Naboo.
Anakin bowed before the Queen. "Your Majesty. I am Anakin Solo, Jedi Knight."
The Queen nodded, her green eyes sharp on Anakin. "We know why you are here, young Jedi."
Anakin donned a look of confusion. Raised his eyebrows on his wide forehead. "You do, Majesty?"
"I know you are here for information about Ben Skywalker," the Queen said pointedly. "What I don't know is why the Council would send you here, when I have already told them that I will not give up that information?"
Sarlana enjoyed the way Anakin seemed to shift in his skin. These Naboo certainly knew how to put these arrogant Jedi in their right place. "Your Majesty, I don't believe you know why it is so important that we get Apprentice Skywalker back. I know he has been on Naboo, I felt him when we arrived. I'm Ben's Master in the absence of his father. He is in a terrible time, and needs guidance."
"Well, at least you are truthful with me," Queen Pernillia admitted. "Still, I would need a very good reason..." The Queen suddenly paused. "Did you say your last name was Solo?"
Sarlana watched the smile, that Anakin thought was victory, spread on the Jedi's face. "Anakin Solo, Your Highness."
"So your concern is not purely a Jedi one?" the Queen questioned.
Anakin sobered at the question. Sarlana knew what he was thinking of, the visions that Ben would join her Master, and become the darkness. Foolishly, Solo believed he could change that. "No, Your Highness, it is not. Ben is a special boy, but he has been through some very traumatic times. I only wish to relay to him that he is not alone in them."
"We are sorry for your uncle's loss," the Queen said, her voice noticeably warming to Anakin.
"I thank you, Your Highness," Sarlana caught the weakness of emotion in his voice. "Master Skywalker asked me to train his son as he was dying. I must find him," now there was pleading in his voice. Why did Solo allow himself such weakness before a lesser being? Lord Nefarion would only appear weak before the strike, yet she did not sense anything of this in Anakin Solo.
The Queen's head fell forward as if in submission, or in weariness, Sarlana couldn't tell, yet she was astounded by all these shows of fragility. Sarlana would never think of displaying such. Wasn't it you who was crying in the hallway? a part of her mind asked, the part that was so very much that bright child that Padami had raised.
"I wish that I could help you, Anakin Solo, however I do not know where Ben Skywalker escaped to," the Queen revealed.
It took only a moment for Anakin to smother his disappointment. Lord Nefarion would have raged for days at such a setback, Sarlana would have felt the Sith lightning coursing through her body, or Tranx would have lost another arm. Anakin accepted the defeat and moved on. The Queen must always remember the weight of her decisions. It was a responsibility that Sarlana never wanted.
"Then I no longer wish to waste your time, Highness," Anakin said, preparing to level a bow at the Queen once again.
"We do not know where he has gone, but perhaps there are clues left in the palace that may help you," the Queen stopped him short, her commanding presence returning once again. Sarlana marveled at her ability to change from human to monarch so quickly. She wore her two faces with such ease. Something Sarlana could not do. "We offer you our assistance and that of the Naboo people. Sarné?"
Out of nowhere the handmaiden that had led them to the throne room reappeared, Sarlana hadn't even noticed she had gone missing. Some great awareness skills you have. "Yes, Your Highness."
"Arrange quarters for Jedi Anakin and his companions," the Queen instructed. She turned to face Cherrz. "There are many amongst your people here on Naboo, I'm afraid that there have been events that have catapulted our people to once again become wary of one another."
Cherrz bowed. "I am aware, Your Highness. I hope to be a tool in the Force's will to mend the breach between our people."
"The Force, our Yuuzhan Vong friend?" the Queen asked surprised.
"Domain Cherrz is Force-sensitive, Queen Pernillia. He is under training, and is currently under my direction," Anakin informed.
The Queen looked impressed. "It seems that the Jedi have made leaps and bounds in their knowledge of the Force."
Anakin pleased her with a smile. "Service to the galaxy and to the Force is our goal, Your Majesty. To explore the Force and gain a deeper knowledge of its will is forever our schooling."
"There is much of you in your cousin, young Anakin," the Queen replied. Her emerald green eyes came to rest on Sarlana. "And who is this young lady who has the look of a Naboo?"
Anakin stepped back and gave her a look to motion her forward, his ice-chipped eyes seeming to tell her that she had forbidden him to talk of her past. Thanks a lot, Solo, she hissed in her mind, while obeying his eye motion. "Analsa Vinn, Your Majesty."
"You have the sound of Naboo in your voice as well," the Queen noted. /iCurse Nefarion and his stupidity./i Her Master had forgotten to take a number of things to mind when he had sent her to infiltrate the Jedi. Ben Skywalker had also discerned her accent to be that of Naboo, how many more would pick up on all the pieces before putting together that she was not Analsa
Vinn, but the Sith Lady Sarlana?
Sarné spoke up. "Her parents were from Naboo, Your Highness. They were forced to leave during the Yuuzhan Vong war."
"Such terrible times those were, political infighting destroys from the inside out," the Queen said. "I am glad that your training has brought you home to Naboo."
Sarlana said the next through gritted teeth. "I'm glad that it has as well, Your Highness."
/hr
It had been Jacen Solo whom had finally brought an accord between the natives of the galaxy and the Yuuzhan Vong, an accord based on each side's reverence for life, even if that reverence differed. It had been a day that the galaxy had celebrated the final peace that had rocked the foundations of several worlds for years. The New Republic had been reformed and reorganized, the Yuuzhan Vong had signed a treaty - some of them, influenced by the heresy of the Shamed Ones, had joined the New Republic.
It was a day that Warmaster Tarsvin Shraq had felt was the greatest failing of his brethren, a day when the Gods had wailed against their appendages who had suddenly found new Gods, these Jeedai, to worship. Ever since that day, Shraq had waited, plotted, schemed, murdered, cajoled, and sacrificed, waiting for the day he could finally bring together his brethren. And, along with this dream, there was another - a darker, more sadistic desire, that made Tarsvin's blood run hot through his body, his rangy muscles flexing beneath the scarring and tattooing that marred the gnarled skin of his body.
This desire had haunted his dreams, had been a phantom in his waking hours, an addiction stronger then any thennel plant. The death of Jacen Solo was not nearly enough, although this was the basis of his desire; no, he would single-handedly take the life of each Solo that lived, starting with everyone that Jacen Solo loved. For this purpose he had joined with the demigod Nefarion claimed to be. It was certainly true that the Sith Lord had the grace of the Gods with him, and Shraq believed that it was through Nefarion that the Yuuzhan Vong would finally claim the galaxy that the Gods endowed to them.
However, Nefarion was a tool, a valuable tool, but a tool nonetheless. A weapon, grown like the amphistaff or the coralskipper, one that the Yuuzhan Vong were meant to use and manipulate. As soon as the galaxy of infidels was crushed, then the Yuuzhan Vong were free to dispose of their tool any way they liked. Oh, for now Lord Nefarion may believe that he was the one holding the amphistaff, just as the slithering creature believed that the arm it curled around meant it held the user.
A warrior manipulated the amphistaff by pressing the nerves that moved on reflex, hardly registered by the amphistaff's limited intelligence. For now, Shraq would play the groveling Yuuzhan Vong before the demigod that Nefarion believed he had convinced the Warmaster he was, but he would be the grutchin lying in wait, attacking when least expected.
Kneeling before the Sith Lord Master Nefarion, this reassurance ran through Shraq as he leaned on his razor-encrusted implants, not even grimacing as the razors dug into his skin and rusted blood dripped into pools around his knees. The soft marsh of the floor gave with his added weight, causing the blood to lap around his skin. For a Devotee Yuuzhan Vong, those that had not lost the old ways, the pain was nothing but an erotic chill. He embraced it like a lover, drank it like the excrement of the paanl, and craved it like the desire of his dream.
"My Lord Nefarion," Shraq oozed, as if addressing the Gods themselves. "What is thy bidding?"
Nefarion's features were hidden behind his cowl, as they always were, the Sith Lord refusing to don the living garments of the Yuuzhan Vong. Many a time, Shraq had to suppress the urge to fling the cowl back and drive an Elin spike through the Sith Lord's throat, pinning him to the throne that Shraq had once roosted on.
"I need a detachment of your people to carry out a special mission," Lord Nefarion said, his tone dripping with the precise edges of sharp ice.
"Anything, Speaker of the Gods," Shraq said, knowing that even now he did not play his part too fully. Nefarion thought the Yuuzhan Vong primitive, a species easily manipulated by their beliefs. Anything within the realm of their religion would fool the arrogant Sith, Shraq had learned from his previous dealings with Lord Nefarion.
"I chose you because I know of your desire to seek vengeance on the Solo family, it is a vengeance I wish as well," Lord Nefarion said, for the first time revealing more than just instruction. "For there is a Solo that stands in the way of my plan."
This piqued Shraq's curiosity. Nefarion was not prone to admit he had a worthy adversary, the man seemed to think he was the ultimate power in the universe. Or that he could gain that power. "And who is that Solo, Speaker of the Gods?"
"Anakin Solo," Nefarion answered tersely.
A low growl emanated from the Yuuzhan Vong Warmaster without him consciously thrumming it through his vocal chords, it was as instinctive as the manipulative nerves inside an amphistaff. Anakin Solo was nearly as worse as his brother, the first Jedi to warp the mind of a Shamed One. Rapuung, Shamed One, who had felt that a former lover, a love forbidden between hima shaper, had caused a virus to keep his implants from joining with his skin, thus deeming him Shamed. Anakin Solo had helped Rapuung face the accursed shaper, who had admitted the heresy, thus bringing the Shamed Ones to believe that the Jedi were the true vessels of the Gods.
Anakin Solo's meddling only affirmed Shraq's desire to destroy all those that bore the name Solo. These Jedi had shamed the Gods for far too long, making themselves greater than the Gods. Jaina Solo had even taken upon herself the name of the trickster Goddess, confusing the Yuuzhan Vong that had once been so devoted to the old ways. Bringing them to the beliefs of the infidels. Not only would Shraq sacrifice the Solo twins, but their brother, and once the Republic was in the hands of those the Gods had sent, he would sacrifice the Sith Lord he knelt before.
A cold chuckle countered the Yuuzhan Vong growl. "I see you understand the importance of Anakin Solo not getting in our way."
"The Solos have been an Elin spike in the side of the Yuuzhan Vong for many years," Shraq agreed. "It's time to extract the problem."
"Good. You will assemble a group of two hundred of your strongest warriors, loyal to the cause of the Yuuzhan Vong and the Gods," Lord Nefarion said.
Nefarion did not know what he was asking - or perhaps he did. Perhaps he knew that the Devotee Yuuzhan Vong were short on Devotees. That in the last week alone, Shraq had been forced to kill three of them as they tried to take the life of the Speaker of the Gods; in their minds, killing the man would be the last ditch attempt for the Devotees. What those mindless dregs forgot was that Shraq would be the savior, he would bring the Yuuzhan Vong to their goal. It cheered him immensely that he now had a scapegoat for the many attempts on his life, Nefarion now had to deal with the rabble.
The Sith Lord seemed to be able to play the same game as Shraq, pushing the right nerves to send a jolted charge of energy. Except Shraq knew of the attempt and could dodge it, if not easily.
"That may be difficult, Lord Nefarion," he admitted.
"I did not ask if it was difficult," Lord Nefarion suddenly snapped, the anger hidden by the eternal shroud, but palpable as shivering mist around Shraq. The Yuuzhan Vong Warmaster had never been disabused to the fact that the Sith Lord was powerful, but so were the coral patches, your feet needed to know where to tread. "Make sure it's done."
"It will take time..." Shraq began, but his breath was cut off by a gust of inexplicable wind. Yes, this Sith Lord was powerful indeed.
"Your time is restricted. Your team must leave directly after the second wave assault," Nefarion commanded, that frost of ice coloring his words.
Shraq bowed his head, the blood from his knees beginning to seep through his fingers, pooling there. He did not know if Lord Nefarion noticed the rusted blood, or if the Sith took subtle pleasure in doling out pain, whether in reality or in his demigod status, but Shraq would not give in either way.
"You can assure me that these assaults won't be traced back to us?" Shraq asked, dancing his fingers over the nerves.
Nefarion leaned forward, his compact muscular body arching without bending. "Do you doubt my power, Warmaster?" The edge of an amphistaff could not be sharper or more deadly. Yes, this Sith Lord is powerful. Shraq was alarmed to feel his flesh crawl at the sound of the liquid acid that dripped from Nefarion's caustic tongue.
Shraq's head bent further down, until his head tails dangled, teasing the surface of the rusted blood. "No, Lord Nefarion."
"Be glad that you don't, Shraq. The Gods would be most displeased if the devoted brethren began now to doubt their path." Pompous was the definition of Nefarion's stature.
Doubt the Gods, or doubt you, Sith? Shraq thought, thankful that the Sith Lord could not read the minds of the Yuuzhan Vong, as he had learned a few of the Jedi could. It had stunned him when his spies on Bellalt had reported this.
"It is time for the Jedi to remember the power of the Sith," Nefarion hissed.
/hr
"We must warn Ben," Luke said as he and his one-time mentor in life and guide in death withdrew from the scene of the meeting between Lord Nefarion and the Yuuzhan Vong Warmaster Shraq. It had surprised Luke to be able to touch the Yuuzhan Vong with the Force, and feel a presence distinctly alien, but with the sense of the living nonetheless.
As usual, Obi-Wan stated, "Not yet. You cannot go around warning him of every little danger. Did I warn you of that wampa that was coming? Did I warn you that Vader was on your tail in the Death Star trench? No, I did this to teach you how to trust yourself and the Force."
"Well blast it, what can I do?" Luke demanded. "I am not an apprentice anymore, Obi-Wan. I'm not going to sit here and let everything that I, and so many of my Jedi, died to build, fall apart."
Obi-Wan's azure eyes became avid with some hidden emotion. "Would that make you a coward, Luke?"
"Of course," Luke snapped. He was not acting like himself. The calm he had perfected in life had fled him in death. He felt twenty years old again, his spirit crawling in his body, only now he had no physical form, only the spectral of what he had once been.
Obi-Wan straightened. "Then call me coward."
The words struck Luke like a laserblast to his midsection. How could he have been so thoughtless, so juvenile? Here was a man who let everything fall apart around him, not because he wanted to, or thought it useless, but because he had seen a hope in the son of his betrayer. How could he stand here and talk of cowardice when he had just betrayed his own?
"I'm sorry, I'm not myself, but that is no excuse. Please accept my apology," Luke almost pleaded.
A smile came over Obi-Wan's face. "I made Qui-Gon's death a living hell when I died. Patience is somehow harder when you have no hands to push against the wheel of time. Another lesson you need to learn."
"I am an apprentice all over again, aren't I?" Luke said, showing his embarrassment and chagrin in the slight smile he wore.
Obi-Wan shrugged. "In many ways, the line between Master and Apprentice is thin, although if you had said something to me like that when I was just a Padawan I would have thought you a damned fool. When you went to turn Anakin you had idealism, but were slightly short on wisdom. I had lost my idealism. We countered each other, had something to gain from one another. A pair is nothing without the other, Luke."
"I need to give Anakin and Ben time to become a pair. That's what you're telling me, isn't it?" Luke ventured. "If I interfere I will only be weakening my son, who needs to be strong for the trials up ahead for him."
"See, you learn much faster than I did. Twenty years I spent watching over you on Tatooine, and suddenly I couldn't do a thing to change the winds of the Force," Obi-Wan explained. He paused, those azure eyes Luke could see mirrored by Ben focusing on something Luke couldn't see. Obi-Wan had done this from time to time, his skill in death far greater than Luke's. Suddenly he shook himself out of it. "The darkness is rising."