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weetuskenraiderThe infiltration plan they finally went with was almost laughably simple and a lot less dangerous to Yu'shaa's followers than their earlier ideas: they'd harvested some of the glowing plants to fashion fake lightsabers, sending some of the Shamed Ones to masquerade as Jedi as a distraction. It didn't sit entirely well with Corran, who wasn't thrilled with the idea of them dying in this cause especially considering the fifty or so warriors patrolling the plaza outside Supreme Overlord Shimrra's palace.
It didn't sit well with Tahiri, either, but that took a back seat to her twofold discomfort at the sight of the palace. The Supreme Overlord was divinely chosen, and the instinct to worship at the sight of the palace was deep-seated in every Yuuzhan Vong. At the same time, she felt sick looking at the structure: she'd been tortured in a damutek much like that.
Corran wasn't so sure the plan was as brilliant as Yu'shaa said it was, but the Prophet insisted, "They may escape. You have given them a better chance than they had. If they do not, they will die with honor, something more than Shimrra would ever allow them. They will die knowing they have blazed the trail to redemption."
"And we just go in the front door?" asked Corran, looking at the damutek.
"Yes," Tahiri answered, despite the way her stomach was twisting at the sight. "We just go in through the front door."
Corran glanced back at Yu'shaa. "And where will we meet you?"
"There is a shrine to Yun-Harla nearby. The shaper will know where it is. If I survive, I will see you there."
"You haven't seen whether you survive or not?" It was a typical Corran sort of question, and Yu'shaa took it with good humor, apparently, because he smiled.
"I am confident that I will."
"Well," Corran said, "good luck anyway."
"Yes. May the Force be with you," Yu'shaa answered, and hurried away.
Corran watched him go, his mouth opening and closing a few times like he was at a loss for what to say. Finally, he just looked at Tahiri.
"Yes," she replied, almost dryly. "That was weird for me, too."
The warriors guarding the palace dropped everything and ran when they spotted the ersatz Jedi, chasing after them with uninhibited intent; that had gone according to plan, which was nice -- how often did that happen? Those warriors would be in deep poodoo later on for abandoning their posts to go haring off after imposters, but Corran wasn't ex-CorSec for nothing, and he'd called that one perfectly.
That left one guard at the doorway.
"Now," Corran said, and Tahiri sprang forward without hesitating, Corran not even a split second behind her. One unsuspecting guard against two Jedi didn't stand much of a chance.
Tahiri put her hand up against the membrane of the doorway. "Veka, Kwaad."
"That was easy," Corran said, almost gaping, as the doorway opened.
"It should be." Tahiri tried not to sound smug, but Ben was a bad influence. "This damutek belongs to my domain."
They fought their way into the heart of the damutek. Both Tahiri and Corran had multiple cuts and gashes to show for it by the time they charged into the central laboratory, engaged with eight more warriors. The number wasn't surprising; they were defending a master shaper, after all.
Then one of the warriors shouted a warning to the shaper, and Tahiri's gut went cold.
"Master Yim, flee! There is danger here!"
That warrior, and a second then a third, fell to the shaper herself, impaled through eyes and arteries and hearts by the lethal whiplike stinger of her master's hand; Corran, cutting down the last of his opponents, was left staring at her.
Tahiri was staring too, as the body of the warrior she'd bisected fell to the floor in front of her, but for a completely different reason. She knew this shaper -- had seen her face on the other side of a membrane in a shaper damutek much like this one, every day for weeks on end almost three years ago.
"You," Nen Yim said directly to Tahiri, recognition unmistakable in her eyes. "You've come to kill me."
Tahiri's smile was cold, but only because she was drawing on her Jedi training with every ounce of her concentration just to stay calm. "You think so?" she asked quietly, but in Basic. "Why would I do that? Merely because you tortured me, turned my brain inside out, tried to turn me against everything I had ever known?"
Corran grunted. "You two know each other, then."
"She's one of the shapers who experimented on me. Her name is Nen Yim," Tahiri said, voice as cold as her smile, and looked at the fallen warriors. "I see you've got a new hand. Like Mezhan Kwaad's."
"Mezhan Kwaad was a master. Now I am."
"I should have known it was you." She was trying to fight it, but this was Mezhan Kwaad's apprentice, who'd overseen much of her shaping; most of the "Watch her hand, Corran. She has -- "
"I saw what she did to the warriors," Corran replied. "If she thinks it will work on me, she's welcome to try."
"She's mine, Corran," Tahiri snarled; the rage was starting to take over, and she stepped forward to hold the blade of her lightsaber between them. Turning to the shaper, she went on, "You have no idea what you've put me through, Nen Yim. I nearly died. I nearly went mad!"
"But you did not."
"I did not," she answered, her voice still vibrating with anger. "Nor did I become what you were trying to make of me."
"That was fairly clear when you decapitated Mezhan Kwaad."
"That was a quick end for her. My torture lasted a lot longer." She'd never been this enraged before; her cold fury at Tara's family that day over Parents' Weekend was nothing in comparison to this. She was watching Nen Yim like a predator, waiting for the tiniest movement she could use as a justification to --
To kill her? The realization jarred her out of her warrior's mentality, and Tahiri forced herself to think like a Jedi. She took a deep breath and lowered her lightsaber, even though every muscle in her body was so tense she felt like durasteel. A simple Jedi calming meditation took effort, but she used it, trying to get herself to relax.
"We've come a long way through a lot of trouble for you," she said. "I don't intend to kill you, not now. You're the reason we're here, aren't you?"
"I wish to see Zonama Sekot," Nen Yim replied. "If you have come to take me there, then yes."
Corran spoke up. "We should talk about this later."
"We will," Tahiri answered. "We certainly will. After we've gotten out of here but long before we reach Zonama Sekot. Do you understand me?"
"I understand you," Nen Yim replied. "But for now, if we're to escape, you must do as I say."
"Time's wasting," Corran said. "What do we do?"
Inflict lightsaber wounds on the warriors Nen Yim had killed, as it turned out, covering the evidence that they'd been killed by a shaper. Tahiri was disgusted by it -- the deception was tantamount to cowardice. The next step was to use their lightsabers to carve through the yorik coral wall, creating an opening that the ship Nen Yim had been growing in the laboratory -- it didn't look quite Yuuzhan Vong, but like some kind of hybrid -- could fit through.
Naturally, it couldn't be that easy; they were only halfway done with the task when three new warriors, all bearing amphistaffs, came charging in.
Tahiri spun to engage them. "Finish!" she yelled to Corran. "I'll take these."
She started toward them at full speed but pulled up short at the last second in a way only Jedi reflexes could manage; the first warrior's counterattack whistled down toward her head just centimeters short. Easy enough for her to block his amphistaff high, then drop her blade at a sharp angle and slash through his neck just above the edge of his armor. The cut was clean, and the momentum of the attack carried through into a parry of the second attacker's blow -- just in time for her to duck the last warrior's amphistaff slash.
The thing about amphistaffs, though -- they were flexible, and when Tahiri felt the second warrior's amphistaff coil around her ankle she Force-sprang away. He hauled back hard on it, which she'd been banking on, and twisted her body in midair to kick him hard in the face with both feet. She fell, of course, but as she did she reversed her lightsaber blade to impale the third warrior. The smell of cauterizing Yuuzhan Vong blood as she hit the floor was fantastic. Really.
Not that she had much time to dwell on the thought before the last warrior kicked her hard in the side of the head and she saw flares of light, throwing her wild attack badly off.
Well, at least she wasn't unconscious yet, but -- a sharp, searing pain through her shoulder, and her arms went rubbery. "Oh." Figured. The warrior stood over her, smirking with triumph, but her mouth still worked, and Tahiri couldn't stop being a smartass now.
"No," she informed him with all the sarcasm she could muster. "No, absolutely not."
It was hard to keep up the sarcasm, though, when she could feel herself fading rapidly. She barely remembered anything for a while, after the fuzzy memory of the warrior suddenly falling, decapitated, and Corran standing over her.
[OOC: Yup, you guessed it. Still NFI/NFB/OOC-okay, still adapted from The Final Prophecy by Greg Keyes.]
It didn't sit well with Tahiri, either, but that took a back seat to her twofold discomfort at the sight of the palace. The Supreme Overlord was divinely chosen, and the instinct to worship at the sight of the palace was deep-seated in every Yuuzhan Vong. At the same time, she felt sick looking at the structure: she'd been tortured in a damutek much like that.
Corran wasn't so sure the plan was as brilliant as Yu'shaa said it was, but the Prophet insisted, "They may escape. You have given them a better chance than they had. If they do not, they will die with honor, something more than Shimrra would ever allow them. They will die knowing they have blazed the trail to redemption."
"And we just go in the front door?" asked Corran, looking at the damutek.
"Yes," Tahiri answered, despite the way her stomach was twisting at the sight. "We just go in through the front door."
Corran glanced back at Yu'shaa. "And where will we meet you?"
"There is a shrine to Yun-Harla nearby. The shaper will know where it is. If I survive, I will see you there."
"You haven't seen whether you survive or not?" It was a typical Corran sort of question, and Yu'shaa took it with good humor, apparently, because he smiled.
"I am confident that I will."
"Well," Corran said, "good luck anyway."
"Yes. May the Force be with you," Yu'shaa answered, and hurried away.
Corran watched him go, his mouth opening and closing a few times like he was at a loss for what to say. Finally, he just looked at Tahiri.
"Yes," she replied, almost dryly. "That was weird for me, too."
***
The warriors guarding the palace dropped everything and ran when they spotted the ersatz Jedi, chasing after them with uninhibited intent; that had gone according to plan, which was nice -- how often did that happen? Those warriors would be in deep poodoo later on for abandoning their posts to go haring off after imposters, but Corran wasn't ex-CorSec for nothing, and he'd called that one perfectly.
That left one guard at the doorway.
"Now," Corran said, and Tahiri sprang forward without hesitating, Corran not even a split second behind her. One unsuspecting guard against two Jedi didn't stand much of a chance.
Tahiri put her hand up against the membrane of the doorway. "Veka, Kwaad."
"That was easy," Corran said, almost gaping, as the doorway opened.
"It should be." Tahiri tried not to sound smug, but Ben was a bad influence. "This damutek belongs to my domain."
***
They fought their way into the heart of the damutek. Both Tahiri and Corran had multiple cuts and gashes to show for it by the time they charged into the central laboratory, engaged with eight more warriors. The number wasn't surprising; they were defending a master shaper, after all.
Then one of the warriors shouted a warning to the shaper, and Tahiri's gut went cold.
"Master Yim, flee! There is danger here!"
That warrior, and a second then a third, fell to the shaper herself, impaled through eyes and arteries and hearts by the lethal whiplike stinger of her master's hand; Corran, cutting down the last of his opponents, was left staring at her.
Tahiri was staring too, as the body of the warrior she'd bisected fell to the floor in front of her, but for a completely different reason. She knew this shaper -- had seen her face on the other side of a membrane in a shaper damutek much like this one, every day for weeks on end almost three years ago.
"You," Nen Yim said directly to Tahiri, recognition unmistakable in her eyes. "You've come to kill me."
Tahiri's smile was cold, but only because she was drawing on her Jedi training with every ounce of her concentration just to stay calm. "You think so?" she asked quietly, but in Basic. "Why would I do that? Merely because you tortured me, turned my brain inside out, tried to turn me against everything I had ever known?"
Corran grunted. "You two know each other, then."
"She's one of the shapers who experimented on me. Her name is Nen Yim," Tahiri said, voice as cold as her smile, and looked at the fallen warriors. "I see you've got a new hand. Like Mezhan Kwaad's."
"Mezhan Kwaad was a master. Now I am."
"I should have known it was you." She was trying to fight it, but this was Mezhan Kwaad's apprentice, who'd overseen much of her shaping; most of the "Watch her hand, Corran. She has -- "
"I saw what she did to the warriors," Corran replied. "If she thinks it will work on me, she's welcome to try."
"She's mine, Corran," Tahiri snarled; the rage was starting to take over, and she stepped forward to hold the blade of her lightsaber between them. Turning to the shaper, she went on, "You have no idea what you've put me through, Nen Yim. I nearly died. I nearly went mad!"
"But you did not."
"I did not," she answered, her voice still vibrating with anger. "Nor did I become what you were trying to make of me."
"That was fairly clear when you decapitated Mezhan Kwaad."
"That was a quick end for her. My torture lasted a lot longer." She'd never been this enraged before; her cold fury at Tara's family that day over Parents' Weekend was nothing in comparison to this. She was watching Nen Yim like a predator, waiting for the tiniest movement she could use as a justification to --
To kill her? The realization jarred her out of her warrior's mentality, and Tahiri forced herself to think like a Jedi. She took a deep breath and lowered her lightsaber, even though every muscle in her body was so tense she felt like durasteel. A simple Jedi calming meditation took effort, but she used it, trying to get herself to relax.
"We've come a long way through a lot of trouble for you," she said. "I don't intend to kill you, not now. You're the reason we're here, aren't you?"
"I wish to see Zonama Sekot," Nen Yim replied. "If you have come to take me there, then yes."
Corran spoke up. "We should talk about this later."
"We will," Tahiri answered. "We certainly will. After we've gotten out of here but long before we reach Zonama Sekot. Do you understand me?"
"I understand you," Nen Yim replied. "But for now, if we're to escape, you must do as I say."
"Time's wasting," Corran said. "What do we do?"
Inflict lightsaber wounds on the warriors Nen Yim had killed, as it turned out, covering the evidence that they'd been killed by a shaper. Tahiri was disgusted by it -- the deception was tantamount to cowardice. The next step was to use their lightsabers to carve through the yorik coral wall, creating an opening that the ship Nen Yim had been growing in the laboratory -- it didn't look quite Yuuzhan Vong, but like some kind of hybrid -- could fit through.
Naturally, it couldn't be that easy; they were only halfway done with the task when three new warriors, all bearing amphistaffs, came charging in.
Tahiri spun to engage them. "Finish!" she yelled to Corran. "I'll take these."
She started toward them at full speed but pulled up short at the last second in a way only Jedi reflexes could manage; the first warrior's counterattack whistled down toward her head just centimeters short. Easy enough for her to block his amphistaff high, then drop her blade at a sharp angle and slash through his neck just above the edge of his armor. The cut was clean, and the momentum of the attack carried through into a parry of the second attacker's blow -- just in time for her to duck the last warrior's amphistaff slash.
The thing about amphistaffs, though -- they were flexible, and when Tahiri felt the second warrior's amphistaff coil around her ankle she Force-sprang away. He hauled back hard on it, which she'd been banking on, and twisted her body in midair to kick him hard in the face with both feet. She fell, of course, but as she did she reversed her lightsaber blade to impale the third warrior. The smell of cauterizing Yuuzhan Vong blood as she hit the floor was fantastic. Really.
Not that she had much time to dwell on the thought before the last warrior kicked her hard in the side of the head and she saw flares of light, throwing her wild attack badly off.
Well, at least she wasn't unconscious yet, but -- a sharp, searing pain through her shoulder, and her arms went rubbery. "Oh." Figured. The warrior stood over her, smirking with triumph, but her mouth still worked, and Tahiri couldn't stop being a smartass now.
"No," she informed him with all the sarcasm she could muster. "No, absolutely not."
It was hard to keep up the sarcasm, though, when she could feel herself fading rapidly. She barely remembered anything for a while, after the fuzzy memory of the warrior suddenly falling, decapitated, and Corran standing over her.
[OOC: Yup, you guessed it. Still NFI/NFB/OOC-okay, still adapted from The Final Prophecy by Greg Keyes.]
