It is the dead of night when a lone X-wing emerges from hyperspace and enters the orbit of the Imperial capital planet Bastion. But the appearance of the now Galactic Alliance hunter does not go unnoticed.

"This is Imperial Orbital Control of Bastion speaking. Republic ship, please identify yourself."

There is silence, but then a young-sounding female voice speaks up. "Yeah, so here's … um … Jaina Solo and..."

"Well, you certainly feel uncomfortable about ditching our ace pilot Jagged Fel, Jedi. I also need the ship's identification number."

"Yeah, well… the ship's ID… is… um…", it comes back hesitantly, but the other side also takes its time to find out this data.

"XJW-90697-JS," a throaty male voice passes on the desired information to the orbital control.

"What is the purpose of your visit?"

"We have valuable information that could be extremely useful to the continued existence of your empire," says the male voice.

"Please hold position and await further instructions."

There is another lively silence, then the landing approach is finally cleared and the X-wing descends onto the Bastion spaceport.

As Nen Yim and Nom Anor squeeze out of the small X-wing, there is a bataillon of black-clad imperials standing in a trellis for them and their leader, on whose shoulder Nom Anor recognizes the rank-sign of a colonel, is quite tall, has black hair and green eyes.

"You are not Jaina Solo," the leader of the reception committee says more than coldly to Nen Yim. "What did you do to her?"

"She lent us the hunter because she is busy with ground combat on Yuuzh… on Coruscant and doesn't need it there anyway," explains Nom Anor.

"You're lying!" the Imperial snorts angrily. "Jaina would only use her X-Wing…" He realizes once again that things have changed. "What is the real reason you are here?"

"Asylum," say Nen Yim and Nom Anor in unison.

"Why should we grant asylum to people like you?"

"Because we know that you did not enter into this alliance with Shimrra willingly," says Nen Yim. "We saw from the villip choir ourselves that there was a conflict raging in Pellaeon when he explained this."

"What do you know about the inner workings of our Grand Admiral?" the leader snaps.

"Actually, we don't care about Pellaeon's inner life," admits Nom Anor. "Much more important is the envoy of Shimrra, who has gained mental control over your leader. Nen Yim here is a shaper. She knows how to break Onimi's spell and I have the knowledge to prevent something like this from happening again in our new home."

"Your new home? You might have some nerve, Nom Anor!" the Imperial hisses at him. "I could send you right back where you came from!"

Nom Anor smiles a pin-sharp smile. "I can imagine that, Colonel."

"But I got engaged today," the Imperial tells them, "so you should be given a chance too."

The Colonel turns away and speaks to someone on the comlink so Nom Anor and Nen Yim can't see, then turns back to the newcomers. "Well, you will receive a two-week temporary residence permit, which will be converted into permanent asylum after successfully subduing the envoy, but if it turns out that Jaina Solo suffered any harm because you stole her X-Wing, then you're both so due!"

Nom Anor smiles kindly. "That's very kind of you, Colonel…"

"Fel, Jagged Fel!" the Imperial adds proudly.

༺༻

Onimi wakes up and wants to leave his guest quarters in the palace in the imperial capital to rush to the promised breakfast buffet. Suspecting no harm, Shimrra's envoy opens the door when two gray creatures with trunks on their faces flutter right into him. Their ridiculously small wings appear out of proportion to their squat bodies with pronounced stomachs. The two-winged ones are followed by three reptilian warriors with electric batons in their hands.

The broad heads of the three green men - although Onimi is not entirely sure of their gender - have mouths armed with many sharp teeth and the yellow eyes sparkle aggressively - lizards on the hunt for prey.

Onimi uses his self-taught mind to penetrate the five beings, but fails. On the contrary, the two grays wave their wings in his face. Onimi's hands lash out like flails, but the flying creatures return at different angles of attack. Their three-fingered hands grab his nostrils and his neck, so that the Yuuzhan Vong loses his balance while defending against these attacks and falls to the ground. The big, burly reptilians behind the flying creatures were just waiting for this.

One of the lizards stabs Onimi's chest with its staff, but the Yuuzhan Vong dodges the purple glowing blade and dives between two green attackers. He now has the wall behind him - at least protection at the back. Another electric baton catches him in the side. The electricity from the lifeless weapon causes him to twitch and tremble... and Onimi falls to the ground in the opposite direction. Another reptilian - Onimi has stopped distinguishing which of the greens is making which thrusts - launches himself at the target and grabs Onimi's frantically darting hands to tie him up, but the Yuuzhan Vong beneath him twists his hips and manages to wriggle free, gets back on his feet and spits his saliva into the face of the attacker who is standing in front of him.

The green lizard staggers and runs its paw over its clouding eyes, but another grabs Onimi's neck from behind. The Yuuzhan Vong spits on the hands that are choking him, his neck secretes caustic sweat, but the third lizard has grabbed his arms and twists them roughly onto Onimi's back.

Handcuffs click and Onimi shakes his head violently; at least he tries. The one who tied him up is now holding his head and the second lizard, whose paws show burn blisters from Onimi's spitting attack, stuffs a gag into his mouth. Thus incapacitated, the two remaining lizards drag the envoy, who is no longer one, into a barren room and throw him on the floor. Onimi whines miserably behind his gag, but it's of no use. A person in a white coat comes up and rams a syringe into his light blue neck. It becomes dark around Onimi and he falls into a deep slumber again. He no longer hears how a heavy barred door closes behind him to prevent any attempt to escape.

༺༻

The next meeting of the High Council will take place on Mon Cala, but the move of the capital of what is now the Galactic Alliance back to Coruscant is already planned.

"Now that the threat from the Yuuzhan Vong has almost been averted, we can reduce the military somewhat and use the resources this frees up to rebuild all the destroyed planets," suggests Cilghal, the Jedi healer.

"I would wait a little longer," counters Kyp Durron. "While the Remnant Empire poses no real threat to the Galactic Alliance, we should remain vigilant. The next threat is sure to come."

"Especially when Gilad Pellaeon has not shied away from allying himself with Shimrra," says the blue holoimage of Tsavong Lah, who cannot physically attend the meeting because he is on Coruscant. "One of his negotiators traveled to Bastion to seal such an alliance. Not to forget that Nom Anor, an active schemer and wanted murderer, has now applied for political asylum there with his lover... and received it!"

"We cannot let this go unpunished!" says Dif Scaur, the head of military intelligence, sternly.

Even without the Force, Kyp Durron realizes that the gaunt human is less annoyed by Nom Anor's defection and more annoyed by the fact that he received this explosive information not from his people, but from the warmaster of the former enemy. He speaks up. "May I make a suggestion?"

Cal Omas nods to the Jedi Master.

"We will engage the Empire in controlled combat to maintain the combat readiness of our troops, with minimal casualties."

"But that would require canceling the Pellaeon-Gavrisom peace treaty", Luke Skywalker objects. "It has lasted for eight years."

"With units of less than two hundred men, this shouldn't be a problem," contributes the holo image of Tsavong Lah. "I read this peace treaty carefully. So if the remaining empire muster troops larger than two hundred men, then tactically we can still withdraw in order not to jeopardize the treaty and to show ourselves as," he bares his teeth at the following un-word, "peace-loving. And if the enemy later sends further large groups of troops into the field against us, then we will unfortunately have to terminate this contract."

Cal Omas looks around. "Does anyone object to this suggestion?"

Nobody answers.

Tsavong Lah smiles. And Jaina will also be satisfied in both cases - just like me.

"Then the fleet intelligence service will compile information about possible deployment locations," announces the Tammarian Ayddar Nylykerka, director of the Fleet Intelligence Service.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Luke says and the healer Cilghal nods.

"Not me," says Kyp Durron – and most members of the High Council agree with him nodding silently.

༺༻

"It's a shame about the ring," Jaina says as she stands next to Tsavong Lah on a moss-covered building in the ruins of Coruscant.

"Yes, the ring," Tsavong Lah replies thoughtfully.

The Yuuzhan Vong had blown up one of Coruscant's four moons to create a multi-colored ring from the rubble, just as it had existed a thousand years ago on the Yuuzhan Vong homeworld of Yuuzhan'tar in that galaxy far, far away.

"And it will soon get colder again," says Jacen, who is standing next to his sister. "But better real cold than this humid heat. I'm sure the Yuuzhan Vong must feel very comfortable on worlds like Nal Hutta."

Tsavong Lah twists the corners of his mouth. "Why do you think Supreme Commander Nas Choka has stayed in the Hutt Space for so long and has not yet found it necessary to personally present himself to me as the new leader of the Yuuzhan Vong?"

"As long as he carries out your orders," Jaina says and Tsavong Lah nods.

A fleet of coral ships approach. "Could that be him?" asks Jacen.

"I have no idea," admits Tsavong Lah. "The arrival of this unit was not announced."

Jaina's hand goes to her lightsaber. "Then they are apostates who cannot accept that…"

"Stop, sis," Jacen says in a soothing tone. "They have no intention of attack."

Jaina twists her mouth. She knows her twin brother has learned a lot under Vergere's tutelage, but the fact that Jacen can read the Yuuzhan Vong's intentions in the Force and she can't still scares her a bit. Nevertheless, she lets go of the lightsaber hilt and tries to relax.

They go to the landing site and meet a fleet of returning Yuuzhan Vong. A headland extends from the largest ship, a Miid Ro'ik, and a Yuuzhan Vong steps out, who, like most of the high-ranking people of his race, is covered all over with scars and tattoos and on his two shoulder hooks a cape is hanging – his insignia of a commander. "I am Commander Ekhm Val and I must speak to Overlord Shimrra immediately."

"Overlord Shimrra is dead. I am now the new leader of the Yuuzhan Vong," Tsavong Lah tells him. "What is it about?"

"We have discovered a planet that is completely organic, like our homeworld of Yuuzhan'tar. It calls itself Zonama Sekot."

"That would be a good solution to accommodate the many troops that currently still need to be supplied on Coruscant and Mon Cala," says Jacen.

"That might be difficult," says Ekhm Val. "There were fierce fights with the locals. We had to retreat."

"There will be no more fighting," Tsavong Lah tells the commander. "In the future we will only negotiate as long as we are not attacked."

Ekhm Val grimaces in annoyance. "Would it have been too much to ask to tell me this before I left Yuuzhan'tar, before I lost three-quarters of my men and equipment in the skirmishes?"

"If my father were still the Warmaster, he would give you a good beating for this cheeky answer," replies the Warmaster. "But for now, you rest and give us a proper report about your mission on this living planet later."

Ekhm Val bows. "I'm at your service, Warmaster."

Jaina snuggles up to Tsavong Lah. "Now I finally understand what you meant in that speech on Duro when you accused us infidels of killing our planets."

The claw of his index finger gently strokes her brown, disheveled hair. "So you remember that too."

"We thought you meant pollution - that some planets have become uninhabitable after long periods of colonization by intelligent species, but that wasn't it, was it?"

Recognization flickers in Jacen's brown eyes. "So you seriously believed back then that all of our planets had once lived? Like Zonama Sekot?"

Tsavong Lah nods slowly.

"Did all the planets in your galaxy used to be alive?" asks Jacen.

"Yes, they did."

Jacen grins. "Well, there must have been some reason why you left your galaxy back then, but now we've brought things back into balance."

Jaina returns his grin. "Yes, we have, but I would like to spend my honeymoon on a real living planet."

Tsavong Lah puts an arm around her waist. "As long as it's with me."

༺༻

Onimi slowly awakens. He's still lying on the floor, but he no longer has a gag in his mouth - and he doesn't feel any restraints on his wrists either. He carefully moves his arms, rubs his hands together, opens his mouth, greedily breathes air in and out through it, then closes it again. He opens his eyes and freezes in disbelief. Sitting on the bunk in his prison cell is the light blue woman who serves as Shimrra's personal shaper. And next to her sits Nom Anor.

"So Shimrra hasn't forgotten me," he says to his two inmates and sits up, then turns directly to Nom Anor. "Have you already punished that traitor Pellaeon appropriately, High Prefect?"

Nom Anor shakes his head and Onimi feels all hope of rescue disappear. "Then the Grand Admiral caught you both and arrested you. What an ungrateful scoundrel! I would have even nominally left him at the head of his ridiculous empire, but he...? Well, whatever, there are three of us in here, so that's something to build on."

Onimi's eyes scan the cell and Nom Anor nods mirthlessly. "Of course there are listening devices here, what do you think?"

Shimrra's jester involuntarily flinches at Nom Anor's rebuke. Embarrassed, he touches his head and is surprised to find that he no longer has a misshapen lump there. Instead there is a bandage, through which he can feel crusted blood.

"Do you have a mirror?" he asks the shaper.

"Naturally."

Onimi raises a suspicious eyebrow. Why would a shaper be allowed to carry so many useless things with her in a barren holding cell like this? Does she have any more useful items with her? For a moment he considers grabbing the bag from Nen Yim and checking for himself. Maybe if he were alone with her... Then his curiosity wins and so he takes the round mirror and looks at himself.

His face is absolutely even again, his mouth is no longer crooked, but straight. The eyes are now at the same level and... they are blue... as blue as before...

"Yammosk implants, as I had already thought," Nen Yim anticipates Onimi's indignant question with her answer. "But now they're gone."

Onimi gives her the mirror back. "How did you notice?"

"I had suspected it for many months," admits Nen Yim. "And yesterday, Grand Admiral Pellaeon asked me to examine you. As a shaper, I couldn't miss this opportunity, I'm sure you understand that."

Onimi grimaces. Of course he understands that, but whether he approves of it is a completely different question.

"But I suspected Shimrra back then, not you."

"But I can't go back to Shimrra like this," Onimi whines and covers his face with his hands.

"No one can ever go back to Shimrra, unless perhaps they die," Nom Anor says harshly.

Onimi freezes. He didn't expect it to be this bad.

"The Overlord was killed by Tsavong Lah and the Warmaster now leads our people," Nom Anor tells him. "So the Yuuzhan Vong are now part of the Galactic Alliance."

Once again, Onimi doesn't like Nom Anor's tone when he says these words. It is not the tone of a powerless fellow prisoner. Rather, the former High Prefect speaks as if he were already back in office somewhere else. "I strongly suspect this is why you're hiding here now."

"In fact, the Empire granted me and Nen Yim political asylum," admits Nom Anor. "And now that you can no longer manipulate anyone telepathically, you are no longer a threat to anyone."

Onimi's blue eyes flash maliciously. "And that's what you, the biggest manipulator of them all, say!"

Nom Anor flashes him a genuine smile. "Thank you very much, but almost everyone knew about me, but about you..." his veritable eye sparkles mysteriously. "And yet you always sat so modestly at the very bottom of his throne."

Nen Yim's green eyes shoot wide open. "You! It was all you!"

Onimi raises his hands in self-defense.

"It's me who has so much to deplore
with every hour I suffer more and more
I'm blind to the Force again like before
just like you or Nom Anor,"

laments Onimi.

Nom Anor shrugs. "Like most beings in this galaxy."

"At least you can still rhyme," Nen Yim interjects pointedly.

"The proboscideans and the lizards,
why couldn't I own them as a wizard?",

Onimi comes to a question that has been bothering him since his capture by the Empire.

"Toydarians and Yinchorri are immune to the Force like Yuuzhan Vong," explains Nom Anor. "Hutts also belong to this category of beings, but they are probably too demanding, or generally too high-ranking, to perform such common henchman services as these five did last night."

"And they smell terrible," adds Nen Yim.

Onimi's line mouth becomes even narrower.

"So everything you knew - you both.
To Pellaeon you even swore an oath.
Will receive I from now on just mock and scorn?
Will forever I stay in this cell forlorn?"

Nom Anor smiles his pin-sharp smile. "Then you better come up with good rhymes again. Colonel Jagged Fel announced his engagement yesterday. They are still looking for someone to recite poems in praise of the young couple during the hen party and later at the wedding reception."

"I fell deeply after being - elevated to a lofty height,

So rhyming for that Colonel – is better than much other plight",

Onimi grumbles.

The former court jester realizes that completely new opportunities are now opening up for him with his new, even figure. He smiles at Nen Yim.

"How about we both, just for the flex
continue researching on the Eighth Cortex?"

She looks away embarrassed. "So this Eighth Cortex program is certainly very desirable but … actually I'm on vacation."

"Vacation?" Onimi asks incredulously and forgets to rhyme. "What is that?"

Nom Anor puts an arm around Nen Yim's shoulders, relieving her of her embarrassment. "Me and Nen Yim are getting married tomorrow and we're going on our honeymoon right after."

"Three weeks in a row!" Nen Yim adds proudly.

Shimrra's former intimate sighs. He can guess what the word honeymoon means.

"And now it's really getting crappy
I never again will be happy
my only hope gone – a burst bubble,
leaving behind nothing but rubble."

"Onimi, the Grand Admiral has asked whether you agree to the release of your personal belongings in your previous room for study purposes at the Imperial Academy," Nom Anor jumps unmoved to another topic. "This could have a positive impact on your trial and, depending on the usefulness of your modest belongings, even lead to your early release."

Onimi thinks about what explosive things he had in his room.

"Nod if you agree," says Nom Anor impatiently and gets up from the cot again and Nen Yim immediately follows him.

Onimi nods mechanically. Now that Shimrra is dead, the Chilabs, Villips and other organic storage media are no longer of any use to him. Nen Yim will certainly be happy to serve her new master in deciphering all the messages and records.

The clanging sound of the screen door sliding upward writhes unpleasantly into Onimi's ears like a ghazakl worm. His disappointed eyes watch as Nen Yim and Nom Anor leave the cell hand in hand and the barred door between him and the apparently happy couple lowers again with the same loud clink.

But perhaps not everything is lost yet. Maybe Nom Anor will help him later... when he and Nen Yim get back from that honeymoon. And perhaps the former high prefect will even keep what he just promised.

༺༻

Nen Yim and Nom Anor stroll hand in hand back to the gray, cube-shaped building where they currently occupy a similar room. They have stowed their few belongings there and the former executor is sure that listening devices in the room are standard equipment in the uninviting-looking concrete building. But here on the wide avenue they are all alone at the moment and so they talk quite openly to each other.

"And you think Pellaeon will really keep us with him now?" Nen Yim whispers.

Nom Anor slows his pace and lowers his mouth to her pointed ear. "Colonel Fel's engagement or not, there is also a set procedure in this Empire for how to deal with important people like us, darling," he reassures her. "I know what I want and I will find a way to get it."

"In this empire? Do you think it's better than Palpatine's?"

His good eye shines. "Yes, it is, because Pellaeon's empire is small and therefore weak." He pulls her into his arms, his voice wavering between amusement and condescension. "It is already the third empire of the infidels that I have experienced, my love. Trust me, shaky empires are my specialty!"

"But Pellaeon seems to be firmly in the saddle."

"Still darling, still. But even if his empire doesn't shake at the moment, I will make it so."