Chapter 35

Nen Yim was no fool, no matter what the infidels believed. She knew their minds, and how they sought to turn her. It was no secret, and she had no desire to play their games of pretend. Staying with them would be a waste of her time. She needed to go back where she belonged.

The room they had given her was the same stone as the rest of the ziggurat, and she had promptly had all offensive, lifeless, objects removed, leaving only the mattress and a blanket. She was alone, and because her hosts were trying profusely to convince her of their trustworthiness, Nen Yim had no fear of being spied upon. She could do what she needed uninterrupted.

Carefully she peeled back the sleeve of her tunic, rolling it up and over her shoulder. With her shaper's hand she caressed the flesh inside of her upper arm gently. The knot about the size of her fist was easily felt. Taking a single digit, sharp as a couffee, she made an incision from her underarm to her elbow. Thick, dark blood dripped to the floor, staining it. Nen Yim paid it and the pain no mind.

Gently she peeled back the layer of flesh and plucked the blood-covered orb from her skin. Easily she forgot about the gash and let it bleed. She would tend to the self-inflicted wound in due time. She wiped the tiny villip clean on her robe then rubbed the top in a certain way. It folded in on itself, resolving into the face of the intendant she sought.

"Executor," she said, happy to be speaking her own tongue once again.

Nom Anor's one eye grew wide with surprise. "Nen Yim. So you live still."

Nen Yim pursed her lips. "I do, no thanks to your assistance."

Nom Anor shrugged her off. "Who can trust warriors to do as they say? They are too preoccupied with their own glory. It is not my fault you were apprehended. You were apprehended, were you not?"

Nen Yim licked her lips nervously. "I believe so. They are very vague on the subject. I believe they are trying to win my allegiance."

The executor snorted sarcastically and rolled his eyes, a very human gesture, picked up from his years among them. They distinguished him from the others, but also made him a little less trustworthy. Nen Yim knew to watch herself around him. "And how goes their progress?"

Nen Yem folded her arms over her chest and gave him a stern look. "They are infidels, and fools. They have offered to take me to their Bastion and give me their secrets, but I do not believe it. They want something."

"Who are 'they'?" he questioned.

Nen Yim shrugged. "They look familiar. One is a fish-thing, another an older human male named Luke, and two of his kin."

Nom Anor's eyebrows rose as she described them. "Not...Luke Skywalker?"

Nen Yim frowned. "The Jeedai leader? I do not know. He does not seem like the tales of the Jeedai I have heard the warrior caste whisper of. He is not nearly threatening enough."

Nom Anor nodded sagely. "The Jedi are overly pacifistic when not on the field of battle. They make a great show of being nonviolent hermits that just want to meditate and protect the weak," he snickered.

Nen Yim rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Didn't you try to kill one of the Skywalker clan before your cover was broken with the Chiss?"

His features contorted into a sneer. "That little whelp of a Jedi deserved far worse than what I gave her."

"But did she not live?"

He looked away momentarily. "She was at her father's funeral several months after that. But Jaina Solo's day will come, just like the others."

She was quickly tiring of this line of conversation. That was not why she had contacted him. "What would you have me do, Executor? I grow weary of these people, whoever they may be."

"Find out who they are. If it is the Skywalkers, I will have much more use of you where you are."

"Sithspit, Jaina, I may be dying but I'm not dead yet," Mara cursed as Jaina steered her back to her room and the bed she should be resting in. Upon return to the Roughshod Jaina had had their quarters consolidated so she could keep an eye on her, and it was turning out to be a good thing. The rest was making her better, but Mara was too stubborn for her own good.

"Mara, do you want to live to see this baby? Because if you do, getting out of bed and traipsing around the suite when you should be resting isn't going to help any."

Mara sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed and drew her legs up onto it. "I've been kooked up here for days. Can't I just lay on the couch in the common room for a while?"

"No," Jaina said. "The best place for you is here. I'm only doing this for your own good, Aunt Mara. Now what do you want for lunch?"

Mara glowered at her as Jaina pulled the covers up over her lap like a child. "Anything but soup."

Jaina folded her arms across her chest. "Last time you tried to eat solid food you threw it all up, remember? The baby needs nourishment, and if you can hold soup then you're going to eat soup."

"I've had soup nonstop for days, Jaina. I couldn't eat another bite," Mara whined.

"How about we try something different?" Jaina said cheerfully. "Protato soup, maybe?"

Mara groaned, but gestured for Jaina to go ahead. She wasn't the best of cooks by far, but she could use a synthesizer on a container of soup mix. "Uncle Luke and Jag should be here with the shaper any time now," Jaina said from the galley.

"How do they know she'll cooperate?" Mara yelled back.

"I don't know," Jaina said as she popped the container into the machine and set the timer for the appropriate amount. "Jag just said that they would take care of everything and would be here in a few days."

"And how many days ago was that?"

"Three," Jaina answered. "But it would take that long to get here from Yavin, longer since Jag'll probably bring them all in the Valorous."

The timer stopped and buzzer rang. Jaina opened the small door and pulled out the now-perfectly-cooked bowl of soup. She fixed a glass of blue milk to go along with it and went back into the bedroom. Despite her protests, Mara ate the dinner ravenously. "Yummy?" Jaina asked with a grin.

"Horrid," Mara answered as she shoveled another bite into her mouth. "But I just can't stop. I think my boy likes it, even if I don't."

Jaina patted her leg and stood. "I'm going to go on deck for a few minutes, make sure things are running smoothly. That is my job, after all. I'll have my comlink if you need me, and I should be back in less than half an hour."

Mara arched one sardonic red eyebrow. "You do know I used to kill people for a living, right?"

Jaina just smiled. "Comm if you need me."

"A large vessel has just arrive in system, General," an officer said from his terminal.

Jaina's back went rigid with tension. "Friendly or enemy?"

"Just a moment," he said, fingers flying over the keyboard. Then, "Friendly, General."

Jaina visible relaxed, letting out a long low breath. "Ask for identification," she said in a much quieter, easier tone.

"Her transponder code identifies her as the Valorous, General." Jaina's emotions took another turn, this time falling the other direction. Before she could make a reasonable response the technician continued, "They're requesting to have a shuttle dock on the Roughshod. Shall I give them clearance?"

"Yes," Jaina said breathlessly. "Let them land."

The first thing Jag noticed as he stepped off the lowered ramp of the shuttle was how right it felt to be back in the Empire. He had his own crew on the Valorous, of course, but being back in the cornerstone of the government made him feel so alive. The second thing he noticed was that the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen had just stepped off the turbolift and into the hangar.

She smiled, and if she hadn't already been his wife Jag would have proposed right then. The distance between then was closed in a heartbeat and suddenly he was holding her close, his face buried in her mass of chestnut hair and inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. Lips pressed against his and he drank her in like a man who was dying of thirst. She pulled away much sooner than he would have liked, gripping his hands tightly in hers. "Kriff I've missed you."

Jag smiled, but his eyes were drawn lower. Barely detectable underneath her military-cut jumpsuit was the slightest of bulges, the first outward sign of the growing child inside her. Jaina followed his gaze and her smiled grew wider. She took one of his hands and placed it over the swelling, letting him feel the amplification.

It was an amazing, intimate moment that left Jag's mind completely blank. It really hit him then, there was a baby growing inside his wife. His baby. A life.

He didn't know what to think. Despite that, Jaina seemed to read him perfectly. She moved forward, pressing her face into his chest. "I know," she whispered.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. They pulled once again out of the embrace but Jag kept his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. "Where's Mara?" a nervous looking Luke asked as the couple turned their attention on him.

"In our room," Jaina answered softly. "She's feeling a little better today, I think, but she's far from well Uncle Luke, and she looks it. I just don't want you to be surprised."

Luke nodded sadly, as if he had expected it. Instead of responding he moved aside, letting Jaina see their their third companion, excluding Anakin and Cilghal who were still on the shuttle. The Yuuzhan Vong seemed to size her up, her headdress twitching with an emotion Jaina couldn't decipher. "This is Nen Yim," Jag said softly.

Jaina stepped forward out of his arms. "Welcome to the Empire, Master Shaper."

Except for the red hair and emerald eyes, Luke would not have recognized the sunken features of his wife. His heart was somewhere in his throat, and he seemed unable to swallow it back down. Mara smiled at him, but like everything else it was devoid of the fire that lit her soul. He reached out to her tentatively through their bond, and it was there he found the woman he loved.

He knew then that just because her body was incapable of expressing the person within, it didn't mean she wasn't there. She was still the candle and love the flame. She told him through their intimate connection everything he needed to know.

She showed him first their son, growing strong and healthy in his mother's womb. He was mostly oblivious to the slow destruction of Mara's body, and wholly unaffected. That was how she wanted it. She would rather be completely ravaged beyond repair than to let the disease hurt him.

That worried Luke. He admired her protectiveness, but he was afraid she was giving too little attention to herself. Their son couldn't grow without her. But Mara remained staunch in her decision. But that didn't mean she was giving up, she told him. She wanted many more years with him and their child. One lifetime together in itself wasn't enough, and getting that one cut short was unacceptable. She would fight it.

Luke moved to the bedside, still having spoken no words aloud. He laid down beside her, pulling her into his arms holding her close. I won't let you die, love, he promised. She moved closer to him, and for once leaned on his strength. That in itself let him know how weak she really was.

Mara was the kind of woman who insisted on standing on her own two feet. She was ferociously independent, and was often angered by his desire to pamper her. The fact that she was now practically asking for him to help her was disturbing. But he was willing to do anything she asked.

He gave her all his strength, every ounce of energy he had he poured into her. Just as she was defensive when it came to their son, Luke was fearsomely protective over her. He attacked the virus in her with that strength of will, and didn't stop until he was too tired to continue.

Jag pressed his ear to the spot she indicated, listening carefully for the heartbeat she assured him was there. He closed his eyes, hopeful. For several long moments he heard nothing and grew afraid that he wouldn't. And then it was there.

Awe stirred in him as he heard the gentle thudding rhythm, the surest sign yet of an independent life that was a part of both of them. Jaina laughed aloud at his glee, running her hands through his hair lovingly. "I've waited so long to share this with you."

He raised up reluctantly and smiled. "It's like...there are no words, are there?" Jaina smiled as she shook her head. He leaned down and kissed her softly. "I'm so happy to be back here with you."

She grinned and pulled him back down next to her. "I can tell," she whispered sultrily as she nipped at his lower lip. Jag kissed her heavily, running hungry hands up and down her bare back. She drew him close, and soon they were both hopelessly lost in the passion of the reunion.

Nen Yim watched Cilghal with a mixture of impatience and distrust. She was angry that she had been forced one, to stay on such a vile mocking of life, and two, stay in a room with the Mon Calamari she had come to believe was a Jedi. She had much need to be alone and was terribly inconvenienced by her presence.

"I wish to learn about the processes your ships use to move," she said as Cilghal tidied up the room. The quarters they had been given were not the standard kind. They had pools of salt water for Cilghal's comfort, and they assumed she would be more comfortable in the naturalistic setting as well. They were wrong.

She would have gladly traded the lifelike rooms for a few moments of privacy. How was she supposed to contact Nom Anor with Cilgal always breathing down her back?

"Certainly," she said cheerfully.

"Would you mind giving me a moment to change?" she asked finally after being able to come up with nothing else.

Cilghal smiled in that unnatural way again but hurried out of the room, giving her her much sought for privacy. Nen Yim hurriedly pulled the villip from her tunic and stroked it carefully. A few seconds later Nom Anor's scarred face once again appeared in her hands. "What have you found?" he asked without preamble.

"The Jaina Solo you tried to kill, is she expecting to birth soon?" Nen Yim asked breathlessly.

Nom Anor curiously inclined his head.

Nen Yim sat back with a sigh of satisfaction. "Then it is the Skywalkers. A whole troupe of Jedi."

He licked his lips in anticipation. "This is too perfect. Who all is with you?"

Nen Yim counted them in her head, trying to remember their names. "The leader, Luke, a very young boy who is his sister's son, a man named Jag who is Jaina Solo's mate, one named Cilghal, Jaina Solo herself, and I believe Luke Skywalker's mate is somewhere on the ship as well."

"Where is this ship?"

"Bastion, I think," she replied.

Nom Anor grinned wickedly. "We must devise a plan."

"I have no time," Nen Yim panted, knowing Cilghal would be getting suspicious. "I must go soon."

"Then I will think on it until you can contact me again," he replied. "Discover all you can. There has to be a million ways we can turn this to our advantage."