On Yuuzhan'tar (formerly known as Coruscant) – in a top secret shaper damutek

Nen Yim paces restlessly around her laboratory. She is on the verge of achieving an absolutely groundbreaking achievement in her people's biotechnology. 'You and me – together we will fill the Eighth Cortex!' Onimi's words ring in her ears.

She never thought that Shimrra's Intimus had shaper qualifications, but it is so. And now, as the infidels advance ever further, it is up to her, Nen Yim, to increase the knowledge of her people and thus create new weapons in order to avert the impending defeat of the Yuuzhan Vong. Nen Yim is sure Onimi will approve of her latest creation. And all previous tests on the prototype have been successful.

The light blue-skinned shaper gently strokes the brown ball, which is as big as her head. The villip everts and a human announcer announces: "And now you see the award-winning holonet series 'Storm of Love', which has conquered the entire galaxy from Ryloth."

Nen Yim sits down on a bean bag and leans her back relaxed against the light gray, grooved wall. She doesn't want to miss any episodes of this series and Onimi certainly won't mind that from now on a villip can do more than just establish a conversation with a single person. So the shaper looks excitedly at the villip. An oval, multicolored image has materialized in the air above the everted sphere. In the center of this image, a yellow Twi'lek steps to the window and looks out into the starry night of Ryloth. A whistle sounds and she lowers a rope.

She leans over the window sill, and Nen Yim already knows that the yellow infidel wants to make sure that her lover will make it up through the open window, when the moving image is suddenly absorbed.

Nen Yim sighs at the interruption, but of course conversations take priority.

"Onimi, I hope your negotiations on Bastion are progressing," she greets Shimrra's jester.

"How is the Eighth Cortex Project coming along?" asks Onimi.

"I have made the breakthrough," she announces proudly. "From now on you can also infiltrate and tap into the holonet with our villips."

Onimi's crooked mouth smiles. "Great, my dear. I knew you would succeed. Shimrra will be proud of you."

Nen Yim politely returns the smile. "It is my duty."

"We'll see each other in three days," Onimi announces and Nen Yim tries not to let her smile fade.

Onimi's face has finally disappeared again, but the scene in the holonet series has also changed. Now two male Twi'leks are talking in a store and Nen Yim is annoyed that she missed the moonlight tryst.

The door membrane trembles quietly. Nen Yim lets out a rather annoyed sigh and immediately turns the villip inside out again. She opens the door membrane and looks into an azure eye and a Plaeryn Bol.

"What's going on?" she asks worriedly.

"We don't have much time," Nom Anor replies.

Nen Yim steps aside to allow the High Prefect to enter, then quickly closes the door membrane behind him.

Nom Anor's receding forehead is darkly clouded. "They'll be here soon and we need to prepare properly."

In one fell swoop, Nen Yim forgot about the holonet series. After months of top-secret confinement in this damutek, where she is officially only allowed to be visited by Onimi, it dawns on Nen Yim that her life will be much more exciting from now on than in that love soap opera of the infidels.

༺༻

Luke Skywalker boards Shimrra's citadel ship. It took a while for the Grand Master of the Jedi Order to agree to confront the Overlord personally, but Kyp Durron's argument that Luke is the last Jedi of note who has yet to kill a Yuuzhan Vong of any standing in a duel, was ultimately the deciding factor.

Luke has to knock out the two guards in front of the door to the Convergence Hall himself. To knock 'em out physically, because his Force tricks don't work on Yuuzhan Vong. But now the way is clear and the Jedi Master enters the huge hall.

"Lord Shimrra!"

Nobody answers. Luke walks around the large, red, pulsating hau polyp throne and there he lies, nine feet tall, with black epidermal mane, the tips of which touch the ground, and on each finger a long claw at least six inches of curved length - each one coming from a different animal, as Luke realizes as he examines and touches each individual claw.

The Jedi then inspects the long thorns that protrude from Shimrra's shoulders, framing the mutilated face.

"Lord Shimrra!"

But the Supreme Overlord does not respond. He just lies on the floor and snores - not quite what Luke Skywalker imagined as a setting for a dramatic duel - the climax of a nineteen-volume book saga.

Luke gives Shimrra a few slaps right and left and one of the Overlord's eyes blinks. It's bright blue and the Jedi instinctively backs away. He didn't expect such a clear color, such an innocent look from this horrible-looking giant.

༺༻

Harrar enters the intendant's damutek, where Nom Anor now resides. His friend Tsavong Lah has already placed his troops all over the planet and it will only be a matter of time before Yuuzhan'tar becomes Coruscant again, but first the priest wants to do something. A buxom shaper approaches him and her dark eyes brighten.

"Priest Harrar, Nom Anor is not here," the woman says euphorically.

"Why does this fill you with such joy, shaper?"

"It's that I have something and I'm just waiting to hand it over to someone who will use it wisely, preferably a man of God - like you, Your Eminence."

"Wise words, but tell me this: What is a shaper doing in a damutek of the intendant caste?"

"I observed Nom Anor disposing of an amphistaff in this damutek's waste pit. So I hid and waited until he left and then I crept to the garbage pit. I was lucky, the pit was just full enough that the amphistaff was right at the top of the opening, so all I had to do was reach into the hole and pull it out."

"You can be quite dramatic, but I don't have much time, shaper."

"So I took the amphistaff to our shaper damutek and examined it. And what do you think I found?"

"Nom Anor fingerprints on one end and Yoog Skell skin marks on the thick end?"

"Exactly!" The shaper takes an organic bag out of a larger bag and hands it to Harrar. Then she reaches into the larger bag again. "And here I have proof that Nom Anor is in an illegitimate relationship with the shaper Nen Yim!"

Harrar accepts the small shell.

"It's better not to open it yet, it smells pretty... pungent," the shaper warns him about the contents of the shell.

Harrar raises an eyebrow. "What is your name and why are you telling and giving me all this?"

"My name is Qelah Kwaad and I just can't stand Nom Anor's dark machinations anymore," the woman admits.

"Could you perhaps tell me when exactly Nom Anor disposed of his amphistaff here in the garbage pit?"

"Oh yes, that was on Blood Day…" she thinks hard, "at eleven thirty in the afternoon."

Two warriors pass them, carrying a sack.

"What are these warriors doing here?" Harrar asks curiously.

"They are dragging every single one of the Fallen that that Jedi named Ganner Rysode recently killed at the World Brain here to the intendant's damutek so that their deaths can be officially certified and their files closed."

"Thank you, Qelah Kwaad," Harrar says formally. "May Yun-Ne'Shel always smile down on you."

"I was happy to be of service," says the shaper, who obviously enjoys this blessing with the mention of the patron saint of the shaper caste.

Qelah Kwaad watches Harrar leave the Damutek again. Ahsi Yim, another adept and Nen Yim's personal disciple, approaches her. "Well, Qelah Kwaad, are you once again poking your nose into matters that are none of your business?" asks Ahsi Yim flippantly.

"A shaper should always keep his nose, ears and eyes open, Ahsi Yim," Qelah Kwaad instructs the younger shaper. "And soon Nen Yim will lose the favor of the Most High Overlord!" she says. "Soon the Domain of Kwaad will rise from the ashes and rule over all other shapers!"

"You're crazy," says Ahsi Yim and walks away.

༺༻

"What's that about and who are you anyway and what do you want, human?" Shimrra murmurs sleepily.

"Your reign is at an end, Shimrra!" shouts Luke Skywalker. "Tsavong Lah's forces have already surrounded your palace and the citadel ship we are in. Surrender and you will be given life."

"It would be enough for me if I could get enough sleep," replies Shimrra tiredly. "Do you actually know how exhausting such throne meetings and questionings of subordinates are?"

Luke smiles. "I always hope that a decision is made in the Senate or in the Jedi Council without having to discuss it much beforehand, but that is rarely the case."

"Well, you see." With these words, Shimrra turns to the other side and begins to snore again.

Luke shakes the Overlord firmly by the shoulder. "But this is your last hour as Overlord! You can't sleep now! You don't have to talk much or even argue, you just have to fight for your throne and your life, you understand? …Lord Shimrra!"

There is no reaction. Luke sighs and decides to wait.

༺༻

Harrar enters the damutek of the shapers. He asks for Nen Yim and two heavily armed guards lead him to the master shaper.

"I have not sinned against the gods!" Nen Yim blurts out, before Harrar has even asked her anything. "I passed all the exams and the readers were satisfied with the answers to the interrogations! So what do you want?"

"I want to know from you exactly when Nom Anor was in your laboratory on the last Blood Day and what he wanted from you."

Nen Yim kneads her natural hand and her eight-fingered shaper hand in front of her lap before she utters an answer. "It was around eleven thirty and of course he wanted to pick up the anti-itch balm."

"Hmmm, I have another witness statement that Nom Anor was seen disposing of an amphistaff, possibly a murder weapon, in the intendant's main damutek at eleven thirty."

"A murder weapon?" Nen Yim gasps. "But he was here with me the whole time, really!"

"Nen Yim, a priest of Yun-Harla can sense when someone is hiding something from him. You only ever tell me exactly what I asked for, nothing extra. That makes you highly suspicious!"

"That's called correct behavior, nothing else," disagrees Nen Yim.

"Is this also correct behavior here?" Harrar opens the shell that Qelah Kwaad gave him. The room begins to smell terribly and both the priest and the shaper turn up their mutilated noses. Harrar's voice becomes very stern. "This is proof that you, Master Shaper Nen Yim, are practicing caste-shaming…"

Nen Yim freezes. She struggles to breathe. Harrar actually feels sorry for her, but his forensic investigation doesn't tolerate misplaced sympathy. He lowers his voice. "… and as a shaper, maintain a sexual relationship with Nom Anor, an intendant…"

Nen Yim's green eyes shoot wide at this serious accusation, but just a moment later her expression becomes calm and composed again.

The priest's voice, however, builds to a crescendo of holy anger, "...just like your heretical master did before with a warrior!"

Harrar sees Nen Yim's eyes narrow in anger at being hit. "That is long in the past and you will no longer be able to judge about it, Your Eminence. As for this…" Her shaper finger, which ends in the tip of a knife, points accusingly at the opened shell. "Someone can somehow get two liquids and mix them together." Nen Yim still wrinkles her mangled nose. "That doesn't prove anything!"

"Oh, Master Shaper, don't be silly." Harrar spreads his arms in a gesture that makes any contradiction seem pointless. "What else would Nom Anor be doing here for so long?"

"The only reason Nom Anor stayed with me for so long was because he simply couldn't stand the itching any longer and had to smear himself with the ointment straight away!"

Harrar grins. "Do people often stay with you and smear the balm in your presence because they can't stand the itching anymore?"

"You can ask Onimi, he does this all the time!" complains Nen Yim.

"Enough!" Nom Anor jumps out from the corner of the room. "That's enough now! Nen Yim, you don't have to tell him anything else!"

Harrar feels sick to his stomach. If Nom Anor expresses his affection for the shaper so openly and even uses her first name in his presence, then the High Prefect cannot possibly afford to let the curious priest go away like that. Nevertheless, Harrar undauntedly turns to Nom Anor. "I knew that you were sneaking away to your beloved's house to hide from my investigations!"

A net wraps around Harrar from behind and constricts him. He can no longer move. The shaper caught him cold from behind! Nom Anor kicks Harrar with his booted foot and the priest falls to the ground, bound.

"You won't get away with this, Nom Anor!" Harrar threatens. "Tsavong Lah knows I am here. He will come and save me!"

"Oh yes? Where is Tsavong Lah?" sneers Nom Anor. "I don't see him at all. And now no one can help you!"

"It went like this," Harrar begins. "You didn't find Yoog Skell dead in his office at around twelve o'clock, but you met him a whole hour earlier near the World Brain, where he rushed to inquire about your health because he cared about you, Nom Anor!"

"Is that true?" Nen Yim asks her lover, visibly shocked.

Nom Anor nods at her. "Yes, Yoog Skell actually liked me. That's exactly what makes things so tragic."

"You wanted to cover up the shame of letting Jacen Solo slip away from you," Harrar continues, "but Yoog Skell, intendant that he was, wanted to write a detailed report of what had happened in the Well of the World Brain. And you, Nom Anor, couldn't allow that!"

Nom Anor taps Harrar's long-braided head with the toe of his Infidel-made boot. "Very interesting, priest-investigator."

"Yoog Skell always supported you, cared about you, trusted you. And you killed him in cold blood!"

"Is that true?" Nen Yim asks Nom Anor again, but this time she is only met with silence.

Harrar waits until it is certain that the devious intendant really won't say anything more, then he continues. "And in order to cover up the murder of your superior, shortly after the murder at the Shaft of the World Brain, you bribed two warriors to put Yoog Skell's body into a sack and drag it to the Shapers' Damutek, where each of the many corpses that the Jedi Ganner Rhysode left there in his defensive battle with the World Brain, were registered and the life records of these warriors closed forever. Everyone should believe that Yoog Skell was one of many victims of the Ganner Rhysode. Meanwhile, you sneaked here to your lover Nen Yim to provide yourself with an alibi. An alibi that everyone bought from you – except for me."

Harrar takes a deep breath before announcing the result. "All you had to do then was go back to the shaper damutek, retrieve Yoog Skell's body from the sack, and then loudly proclaim that you had just found him. And then you completed Yoog Skell's life record and inherited him as High Prefect."

Nom Anor's voice becomes a contemptuous snort. "You can never prove that to me, Your Eminence."

"Oh yes, High Prefect, I can do that," Harrar objects. "Because you first had to get rid of the murder weapon – the amphistaff with which you killed Yoog Skell at the World Brain. So you thought it would be best to dispose of the Amphistaff in the intendant's damutek, where there aren't as many people analyzing traces as in a shaper's damutek, for example. Too bad Adept Qelah Kwaad was watching you and recovered and examined the amphistaff you had thrown into the waste pit there."

"Qelah Kwaad would do anything to harm me!" complains Nen Yim. "So she mixed both liquids together in the shell! And surely she also prepared the amphistaff to get one over on Nom Anor so that I would lose him and be accused of caste disgrace on top of that!"

"Don't say any more, darling," Nom Anor shouts at Nen Yim.

There's a noise outside the door to Nen Yim's lab and they both hear Tsavong Lah's baritone voice: "Open up, or I'll kick down the door and throw thud bugs!"

Nom Anor takes a quick look at the door, then turns to Nen Yim: "Now, darling!"

From below, from his worm's eye view, Harrar sees Nen Yim taking a capsule from Nom Anor, putting it in her mouth and biting it. From the High Prefect's grinding jaws, the priest can tell that Nom Anor is probably chewing the same thing. The proven murderer of Yoog Skell pulls on his little finger and the fingertip comes off with a loud popping sound. Black smoke emanates from Nom Anor's finger and Harrar can just see Nen Yim opening the door membrane to the hallway outside before everything around him disappears into darkness.

My friend, you are too late.