Chapter 33

It had taken almost an hour to decide whether or not to proceed. Jag himself was not sure which course of action was best. Part of him wanted to go on, find the grotto and the possibility of locating his brother. But the rational part of him that had been raised by the Chiss wondered if it would not be better to take their captive and run. They could most likely get more intel from her than anything else they could find. Still it was a big if. Either way he went there was a possibility of serious loss.

"If we could convince the shaper to give us what we need it would be tens times worth anything we could find in the basal," Anakin had finally voiced. Deciding he was right, they had tossed caution aside for speed and made a hasty retreat back to their ships and into space. Once back on the Valorous the real debate began. What were they going to do with her?

"She is sedated, right?" Jag asked the Emdee droid. He and Anakin stood over the metal examining table she had been placed on. The room was sealed and secluded deep in the heart of the ship, making escape unlikely. The shaper herself had been restrained, clasps holding down her limbs and head. It might have seemed overcautious to some, but in this again Jag's Chiss training took part. You could never be too careful.

"Yes, Sir," the droid replied.

Anakin walked slowly around the table, arms folded over chest, eyes never leaving the sleeping enemy. "Perhaps we should wake her up, then."

Jag shook his head. "I've read the reports. Every time someone has attempted this before, the patient has woken up and committed suicide before we could question them. We can't take any chances."

"How?" Anakin said, shifting his frosty blue gaze from the table to Jag.

"How what?"

"How can they commit suicide if they were strapped to a table?"

Jag gestured to the shapers hands. "They have hidden like bio-implants we can't see. Little weapons it seems like they produce out of thin air."

Anakin looked thoughtfully back down at the shaper. "She could have gutted you with her bare hands." Jag chose wisely not to comment. "Perhaps," Anakin speculated, "if we removed the implants..."

"But how do we find them?"

"That's the trick, isn't it?" Anakin smirked.

Jag snorted derisively. "So all of this is pointless speculation."

"Not necessarily. I don't know how to find them, but I know someone who might."

Jag raised a quizzical scarred brow. "What are you saying?"

Anakin smiled that lopsided grin that made him look like Jaina. "I'm saying we need to take a little trip to Yavin IV."

Jaina was beginning to get worried about Mara. The walk back to the Sabre was tiring her ailing immune system much more than it should have. Perhaps the little shopping excursion had not been such a good idea after all. Jaina never should have let Mara convince her into it. They both should have stayed on the Roughshod where they belonged.

"Mara," Jaina said, taking her arm, "Mara, maybe we should stop."

The woman was panting, the pale skin of her face drawn tight with exertion. She was drawing heavily on the Force to sustain herself. Jaina had a feeling she wasn't going to make it back. Mara raised a hand weakly to ward her attempts at help off, but the action tipped her off balance and she fell heavily to the ground.

"Mara!" Jaina exclaimed, catching her hand in time to keep her fall from being too damaging. She lowered her carefully to the ferrocrete, craddling her head in her hands. "Mara, wake up! Come on, don't do this to me now!"

Mara coughed lightly, seeming too weak to even do that with energy. "Help me up Jaina. Just get me to the Sabre."

Jaina's hand was caught halfway to her jacket pocket where her comlink was housed. "You need medical attention," she argued.

Mara shook her head stubbornly. "I just...need a healing trance. The...Emdees can't do anything anyway. Get me to the... Sabre."

Jaina chewed agonizingly on her lower lip. "Don't you dare die on me, Aunt Mara; Uncle Luke would never forgive me."

A faint smile played across her once full lips. "Luke."

Jaina sighed heavily, and with aid from the Force hoisted Mara into a standing position. With one arm thrown over Jaina's shoulders and both of Jaina's supporting her, they made an agonizingly slow trek to the docking bays. By the time they reached the Sabre's entry ramp she thought Mara might literally keel over any moment.

She used the Force to open the hatch, and drug Mara inside, pulling her to a bunk. By then she was unconscious. In a panic, Jaina frantically thought of what to do. There was only one thing, really. She had to put her in a trance and lend her what strength she could. And after that, well, Uncle Luke was going to get a very unpleasant call.

Gently as she could, Jaina eased Mara into the healing energy current of the Force. It swept of them both, no over the four of them. Inside Mara her son was as frantic as Jaina, and Hanna could sense her mother's anxiety. But Mara was with her son. That was why she had collapsed. The virus had made yet another attack at the fetus, and Mara had retreated within herself, defending the baby at the cost of her own body. In a sense she was trusting Jaina to keep her alive long enough for the disease to be temporarily beaten back.

Delving deeper into the Force, Jaina drew severely on it, pulling the life force into Mara. She sent wave after wave of purifying energy through her strained systems, beating back the disease with everything she had. She was just a conduit in the stream, redirecting the flow into Mara's diseased body. Eventually she fell into the thoughtless, soothing rhythm herself, continuing her ministrations all through the night.

The Mon Calamari healer placed a skeptical webbed finger to her chin, shaking her bulbous salmon head slowly. "I could do as you are asking, Anakin, but I do not think it would increase her willingness to cooperate when and if we do decide to bring her out of sedation."

Jag leaned forward, placing the flat of his palms on the table and leaning on them heavily. "Then what do you suggest we do? Our options are limited."

One orotund eyes swiveled in its socket to look at him. "If I were to remove these dangerous implants, I would literally have to remove parts of or whole limbs. Her shaper's hand itself is a lethal device. I do not feel amputating it would gain her trust. And that is the basis of what we need to do. Gain her trust and respect. We not only need her cooperation, but her complete defection."

Jag winced, turning away from the examination table. He was quickly running out of ideas, and trying to convince a brain-washed Yuzzhan Vong shaper that they were wrong and should switch sides was not really something he wanted on his to-do list. "Can this be accomplished?" he asked finally, keeping his back turned to the two Jedi.

"I can only try," Cilghal said.

"Can you insure that we can put her in an environment where she would not immediately do physical harm to herself?" he said, turning to look at her.

She stood still for several long moments, then nodded once. "I believe it can be done."

Nen Yim's eyes fluttered open. The first thing she noticed was that she was no longer in the swamp. Somehow, she must have destroyed the infidel, or been rescued by the warriors who were supposed to be guarding her. Damn them, she thought. Leaving her alone under that tree because 'it would be safer there'. Much good that had done. They had left her to go seek their own personal glory in combat and she had been the one to be attacked. If they had saved her, however, she supposed the transgression could be forgiven.

Her shaper's hand twitched and moved to the spot where she had been shot by the infidel. They didn't even detect a scar. That was odd. The scar would be a desired effect, and no sane healer would have kept its glory from her. Her fingers traveled further reaching to touch the surface she lay on.

Grass, or some such weed.

It smelled nothing like anything she had ever shaped. Something native to Ramella, perhaps? She didn't know. The canopy of many titanic trees hung above her, and behind them a reddish glow intermingled with sunlight. Carefully, very carefully, Nen Yim sat up.

She was in a forest, as expected. But it looked like nothing that should be on Ramella. No, this was not Ramella at all, but somewhere else entirely. How had she gotten there? Had she been transported by Yuuzhan Vong she should be in a worldship or a grashal on some planet right now. But there was no sign of any other intelligent life.

Perhaps, just perhaps, she was actually dead. Did she not receive a greeting from the gods, receive glory for her actions on their behalf and against the infidels? No, she could not be dead. A dream then, maybe a dream.

It did not feel like a dream, either.

She sat in the dip between the roots of a great tree, covered in light moss. She ran her fingers lightly over the surface, then gripped it firmly, using it to hoist herself onto her feet. She was wobbly for a few moments, but steadied quickly. The sound of running water came to her ears, somewhere not far away.

Turning to the noise she followed it until she found a small bubbling stream. A natural stream. This was an unshaped world. And that could only mean it was a world not occupied by the Yuuzhan Vong.

Fear clutched in her throat, threatening to choke her. Had she gotten here by infidel transport? And if so, why were they not here now? It was too much for her clouded mind. She slowly sat down onto the sandy shore of the riverbed, unable to stand the pressure of her own fears.

A sound.

Nen Yim turned, trying to find the strength to scrabble to her feet, but the attempt was in vain. A creature appeared out of the trees. It was not a human, but an alien native to this galaxy. It walked with a calm and centered grace despite its girth and bulky cranium. To Nen Yim, it looked like a walking fish.

It stopped a few meters from her, it's small mouth parting in imitation of a human smile. "Greetings, Master Shaper. I am here to help you."

Nen Yim's first instinct was to either kill the thing, or kill herself. But reason overruled. There were those in this galaxy that had been promised to the Yuuzhan Vong who were traitorous to their own, who aided the Yuuzhan Vong in their conquest. Perhaps this being was one of those. Perhaps it could get her back to her people. "Who are you?" she said slowly, trying to remember if those were the correct words. She had spent little time trying to learn their infidel tongue.

The being bowed. "I am called Cilghal. Who are you?"

Nen Yim bristled. She would not deign to answer this creatures questions. "Where are we? How did I get here?"

The fish-thing called Cilghal smiled again. "This is the forest. And I walked here."

Nen Yim was growing angry. "What planet is this, and how did I get here?"

Cilghal sat across from her, a good ten meters away. Enough to converse comfortably but give Nen Yim her personal space. "The place and time are not important, and sometimes the question is as important as the answer."

Nen Yim scowled. "I demand that you take me back to my people, infidel."

Cilghal made no protest, simply inclined her head gravely. "Very well." Still she made no move to rise or lead Nen Yim out of the jungle.

"Well?" the shaper asked finally.

"Well what?" Cilghal asked.

"Take me back to my people!"

"Oh, I will, if that's what you want. Just not right now," she said matter-of-factly.

Nen Yim was appalled. How dare this creature defy her? "Maggot filth," she spat, "I told you to take me home!"

The being was nonplussed. "I already explained to you, I will take you home in time. But first I want to speak with you for a while."

She was sure what to make of this. The best course of action would be to kill herself now, but something stopped her. She could learn so many things to use against the infidels from this Cilghal creature. Would it not be better to live for her people now than to die for them? And this fishy thing certainly posed no physical threat to her by herself. She wouldn't hold up long, unarmed as she was, if Nen Yim decided to kill her.

"What do you want from me?"

Cilghal shifted slightly, cocking her huge head at an odd angle as she observed her. "What is your name?"

Nen Yim did not want to tell her, but she would need her if she wanted to get back to her people. "Nen Yim," she finally replied, grudgingly.

Cilghal smiled again. "Well, Nen Yim, as I said before, I am here to help you."

"How?" she asked suspiciously.

"That depends. What do you need most?"

The shaper licked her lips suspiciously. "A transport home."

"Nothing other than that?"

She looked at Cilghal distrustfully. Was she willing to just give her anything she needed? "I want to know about the infidels."

Cilghal showed her first sign of confusion then. "I am sorry, I know no infidels."

"You are an infidel!"

"I most certainly am not," she said without even a hint of being angered. "And if you want my help, I don't think calling my people and me names is going to help any."

Nen Yim gritted her teeth. "Fine, what shall I call you, fish?"

Cilghal actually laughed, a grating but not entirely unpleasant sound. "I have already told you, you may call me Cilghal. And the people of this galaxy, you may call them gentlebeings." Nen Yim scoffed at the suggestion but did not contradict her.

"I want to know about the people of this galaxy. Show me about them, so I may discover how best to defeat them," she said.

Cilghal stood, her flowing white rob swaying gracefully as she moved. "That I can do. Follow me. I think I know some people who can help you."

Jag's heart pounded so loudly he thought for sure Anakin could hear it loud and clear. He watched over the hidden feed as Cilghal managed to manipulate the Vong shaper as if she had been doing such things for decades. They were amazing, these Jedi. Jag could only hope his daughter grew up to be as great as her mother and her family.

"I think I know some people who can help you," Cilghal was saying.

Anakin swung his chair around on its repulsorlifts, sliding it across the room to hit the button that disconnected the feed. "I think that's our cue."

Jag stood, trying to overcome the nervous habit to fidget. "Do you really think this will work?"

"It was so far," he shrugged. A few seconds later he frowned. "You know, we probably should have let Uncle Luke in on this."

"It's not too late," Jag said. "It should take a good ten minutes for Cilghal to walk her all the way back to the temple. We have time to get him here."

Anakin nodded slowly. "Okay. After I thought about it, it's probably not a good idea to bring a cognizant Yuuzhan Vong into the Jedi Temple without telling him anyway."

When Anakin returned with Luke Skywalker, Jag wondered how a few weeks could make someone look so wearied. But the way even Jag could sense the concern flying off of Anakin he got the impression that this was an entirely new development. He managed to catch his brother-in-law's eye as he followed a fatigued-looking Luke to a chair. "What's wrong with him?" he mouthed. Anakin shrugged.

Jag turned to the Jedi Master. "Uh, Luke, are you okay?"

Luke solemnly shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"What's wrong, Uncle Luke?" Anakin asked, obviously concerned.

Luke ran a trembling hand over his bow. "It's Mara."

"What happened?" Jag snapped, his mind immediately reeling at the thought that something could have happened to Jaina and Hanna.

"I'm not sure. But it feels like..." he stopped, leaning forward and holding his head in his hands, "it feels like she's slipping."

Jag swallowed hard, unable to overcome his own selfish fears. "And Jaina?"

Anakin laid a hand on his arm. "It's okay. I would have felt it if something had happened to her."

Luke nodded sadly. "It's the disease. It's eating away at her. And there's nothing I can do," he choked.

Jag felt for him, and was suddenly ashamed at his own worry. "I'm so sorry, Luke. Is there anything I can do?" he asked, silently cursing his own ineptness.

Luke shook his head. "I feel like I should go to her, but last time she and Jaina threatened me..."

Jag scowled angrily. "If she's getting sicker, you need to be with her. After this is over, I'll call Jaina and see what's going on. We'll both go."

Anakin smirked quietly, but Jag didn't miss it. "What?" Jag asked.

"You just want to see Jaina."

"I do want to see Jaina. But that's not why I'm going," Jag said calmly.

"Whatever," Anakin said dismissively. "You two can settle that later. Cilghal should be here any minute, and we still have to fill in Uncle Luke."