Chapter Seven

"We are nearing a party of Nesz," Oin whispered, "I can sense them."

"About time." Vergere nodded and folded her hands in the Robe's sleeves. It was hot in the marshes, but this was the climate Nesz thrived in so Oin was doing very well. Vergere, like any Jedi, could subtly alter and readjust her own body with the Force and was therefore quite comfortable. The many buzzing insects, small and large, avoided her unconsciously and the pests Oin attracted were more than welcome, as the young Nesz scooped them up with his wide, sticky tongue before they could suck so much as a drop of blood. Bugs were a fine source of protein for traveling Nesz.

They had just crossed a wide bog by way of small, moss covered rock-islands useful as stepping stones. The distance from rock to rock would be difficult, if not impossible for most humanoids but Vergere jumped across with ease. The nimble Oin simply swam, and with astonishing speed.

Vergere was grateful to be under the shade of the bora trees on the far side of the bog, the natural cover would both keep out the sun and hide them from coralskippers, pairs of which had begun flying low over the treetops and shooting anything that moved at irregular intervals since they had landed two days ago. It had taken some time to work their way through the marshes, especially as they had to make constant detours to avoid the spreading, black coral fields that were blighting the land.

Normally very efficient, the Yuuzhan Vong had apparently decided to alter the entire planet instead of just the parts that were immediately useful. Vergere had a feeling this change in plans had something to do with them and the Imperials who were wandering around the planet, and the fact that the natives were nowhere near as docile and submissive as they had once been.

Oin had been telling her all he could of what had been happening since they had left to contact the Empire and set in motion the chain of events that would doom this planet. While the Nesz were not telepathic: they were unable to share thoughts and read each other's minds, they possess a strange rapport that was not quite a group mind.

To put it simply, the Nesz were aware of one another. A Nesz would experience another's pleasure or pain as intensely as his or her own. This meant that Oin had a good idea of what had been going on here in his absence, and that the rest of the Nesz knew that he and Vergere had returned.

The Nesz had gathered into many small parties and moved deeper into the marshes, to places that had as yet been untouched by the Yuuzhan Vong, but Oin informed her that a small party had been sent to meet and guide them.

There was also much Oin did not say, and did not need to say. The young Nesz looked different now than he had when Vergere had first met him. He was grimmer, his eyes were harder, and he would occasionally flex his sharp claws or snap his teeth at some imaginary prey. The changes in Oin were characteristic of the changes in the entire Nesz race, a species that had never known war or murder. Had never truly experienced hate, even.

Vergere felt it all around her, an imbalance in the planet itself. The natural order of things was in conflict with a force she could not sense, that appeared to her as nothing but a blank area in the ocean of life-energy that was the Force. But she could see the results of that conflict plainly enough.

They had seen arrows and spears scattered in the grass almost as soon as they had left the escape pod. The simple weapons of the Nesz, used for hunting and spearing fish. The grass had been trampled, as would happen in a brief but violent skirmish. Blood dried on the stalks and the hate and desperation of those who had fashioned those arrows still clung to the weapons.

Later they had come across two dead Nesz, hung from a tree upside down. They had died badly, very badly, tortured at length and then skinned alive. Vergere did not need to see what the scavengers had left of them to know that what had been done to those two had still tainted the Force around them. Their bows and spears had been broken and left at the foot of the tree, to mock them.

Vergere had taken a step towards them, with an idea of cutting down the bodies and burying them. Oin pulled her back and shook his head wordlessly. Vergere understood: the Vong had undoubtedly set traps for anyone who tried to retrieve the bodies, as the Yuuzhan Vong themselves would try to gather up their own dead. The Nesz did not have that particular custom, though. To them, a corpse was like the dead skin the reptilian Nesz cast off and no longer needed.

The Jedi had glanced at Oin, then had to look away from the cold, piercing gaze directed at the remains of his two comrades. She had not been able to shut out the terrible sense of recognition she had felt from Oin, though. Since the Nesz were so intimately connected, what they had done to those two had been experienced by every other Nesz, down to the smallest infant. It must have happened when Oin had shut himself away in his quarters for Vergere not to see and sense what was happening to her friend. How could he bear it?

Did the Yuuzhan Vong even understand what they had done? Probably not.

The next day they had come across a large pit which had been covered by a wooden frame and hidden from view by a carpet of woven grass. No longer. Vergere and Oin could easily look down at the three Yuuzhan Vong bodies, their dead amphistaffs and vonduun armor, where they had fallen through onto the sharpened stakes that lined the bottom. From there a party of Nesz had gathered around the pit and filled the Vong with arrows. Civilization had finally caught up with the beings of Sevac III.

The sight had told them it was safe to stop and rest: if more Yuuzhan Vong had been here they would never have left their comrades' bodies to rot.

Now they began to see other signs: blasterfire had left scorch-marks on a bora tree. Ration bar wraps thrown on the tall grass and trampled by booted feet. The Imperial pilots were learning what it was to fight the Yuuzhan Vong up close and personal.

Vergere knew they were being watched the instant the observers' gaze fell on them. She said nothing to Oin, but after a moment she felt him realize it as well. At first she failed to recognize the beings around them. The simple fact that she could sense them meant they weren't Yuuzhan Vong, neither did they have the feel of humans or Chiss. It was a shock when she understood at last that it was the Nesz search party.

Oin stopped and signaled her to do likewise. Then they simply stood for a few seconds, long enough for the watching Nesz to make certain this wasn't some sort of trap. Vergere felt the familiar prickling sensation that meant weapons were being trained on her, but she kept her hands visible at her sides. Yes, the Nesz had changed: just weeks ago they would have run, laughing and yelling, out at them and greeted her and Oin with friendly hugs and pats on the back. The creatures that watched them were silent as ghosts, suspicious of anything that moved, and didn't let down their guard for a second.

Finally the leader of the searchers signaled to the others with a high-pitched whistle. At the sound of the birdcall, over a dozen Nesz dropped down from trees, stepped around their trunks or swam up from nearby ponds.

Vergere shivered. These Nesz were gaunt and scarred, and to a one they were armed with bows, spears and daggers of sharpened rock or bone. It wasn't their fierceness that affected the Jedi, but the empty, hopeless eyes that settled on her. The Nesz were running on hate alone, they had given up on trying to defeat their enemy: for every Yuuzhan Vong they killed, five Nesz ended up dead or captured. Even if they were killing each other one-to- one there were still only a few hundred Nesz, perhaps not even that by now. They were fighting a war they could not win, and they knew it.

The leader stepped forward. He was armed with a spear and an ugly burn marred one side of his face. "You have returned." He spoke gravely to Oin and Vergere. "Have you brought help?"

Vergere couldn't think how to answer him. She didn't need to. "Yes." Oin responded in the same tone. "Take us to the others."

***

"Look out!"

"Do-ro'ik vong pratte!"

Azure One, or Stent as he was known out of his fighter, ducked just in time to avoid being decapitated by a flying razorbug. He spun to face the Yuuzhan Vong who'd thrown it and shot at the tall, armored alien.

The blast knocked the Vong down, but the armor protected him from harm. A second later he was getting up, amphistaff whirling in his hands, but the three other Yuuzhan Vong who had topped the rise were bounding past him and more were following.

"Spread out!" He yelled as the Imperials met them with blasterfire. The TIE pilots had only been groundside a few days, but they were quickly learning how to survive. Experience was a particularly harsh teacher, and the ones still alive were the only graduates. More than a hundred pilots had landed and met up on the surface. Just over sixty were still here.

They were divided into three groups of about twenty to avoid making themselves an obvious target and kept in touch via comm-link. Stent had decided on this after they had been spotted by a low-flying coralskipper just hours after landing. The first twelve men had died in that skip's passing bombardment.

The survivors of Thrawn's strike force were all pilots, not ground troops, and while they were well-trained this wasn't their area of expertise. The only equipment they had came from the survival kits of their TIE fighters and what could be salvaged from the ships themselves before they had to be abandoned, and constant attacks by Yuuzhan Vong were taking a heavy toll.

The men with Stent reacted without to this latest attack without hesitation, spreading out to surround the Vong as they charged. Razorbugs buzzed through the air and blaster bolts streaked and left ozone trails in their wakes. The Yuuzhan Vong charged, screaming war-cries as they came. Stent counted eight black, silver-trimmed forms. A match for the twenty Imperials with him. Stent and the others knew by now how deadly the Yuuzhan Vong were in close quarters: their amphistaffs could cut through flesh like soft cheese, and though their armor was powerful, the Vong could move with stealth and stunning agility and speed, not to mention the invaders? sheer physical strength: yesterday one of Stent's wingmen quite literally had his head taken off by a single swipe from a Yuuzhan Vong's gauntlet-covered hand.

Unfortunately they could only be killed at close range: their armor would deflect blasterfire from a distance.

A human's scream of agony resounded in the thick march air, but Stent couldn't afford to take his glowing eyes off the Yuuzhan Vong. When he estimated the Vong was in range of a kill-shot he squeezed the trigger, wishing the pilots had more powerful blaster rifles instead of just pistols.

The Vong jumped and pivoted his upper body as Stent fired. The energy bolt grazed the chestplate and left a burn-score across it, but did no damage to the being underneath. The enemy stabbed with his amphistaff. The eyeholes gleamed and Stent knew there was a triumphant, bloodthirsty grin beneath the Yuuzhan Vong's mask.

The Chiss was already off his feet and rolling. The Serpent's sharp tail sliced only air and Stent landed on his side with his arms out and blaster leveled. The Vong spun and arced his staff downward. Stent's eyes blazed as he pulled the trigger again and sent his blaster bolt burning at, into and through the enemy's mask. The Vong collapsed, dead instantly, and Stent quickly rolled away and got to his feet before the amphistaff could strike at him. Another thing the Imperials had quickly learned was that a fallen warrior's amphistaff would stay near its master's body and attack any non-Vong who got within reach.

He scrambled to his feet again, alert for more targets, only to find the battle was over. The Imperials' quick reaction had saved their lives, and probably reduced the casualties they might otherwise have taken. Only one of theirs was down, which was one too many, but black armored corpses littered the ground as well.

"We got lucky." Stent said grimly.

"We showed them." A Chiss corrected, blaster held loosely in his hand. He glanced down and kicked one of the bodies. "Filthy things." He glared at the corpse while a Vong body behind him bounded to his feet.

"Behind you!" The Chiss spun around, but was just a little slow to take aim. The Yuuzhan Vong whirled his amphistaff in one hand and snapped it against his inner forearm so that the razor- sharp tail pointed behind him and the serpent's head was level with the Chiss' face. The staff's mouth gaped open and a glob of venom zinged from its open maw and struck the pilot across the bridge of the nose. The Chiss shrieked as venom ate into his glowing eyes.

Stent fired, but the Yuuzhan Vong was already moving. Reversing his amphistaff, he arced the tail end around to slice the blinded pilot's upper leg. The Chiss' lower uniform quickly turned black with gushing blood and he fell to the ground.

The Yuuzhan Vong howled in victory, a disc-shaped razorbug appeared in his hand and he casually tossed it at Stent. The lethal bug was transformed into a buzzing blur that arrowed toward Stent's head. It was more instinct and luck than anything else that saved Stent's life: if he had thought before he fired he never would have made the shot. As it was, the bolt struck the razorbug in an explosion of burning innards.

The Yuuzhan Vong, however, had used those few seconds to close the distance between himself and Stent. What he assumed would be his last flash of thought as he saw the sharp tail stab at him was So now it's three down.

The Vong fell at Stent's feet with a smoking hole in his back. The amphistaff reared to bite with eye-defying speed, and a booted foot stepped on it where the neck joined the head. Drash Tevock, the blaster he'd used on the charging Vong held firmly in hand, calmly shifted all his weight to his heel, snapping the staff's neck before it could harden its body in self-defense.

"Thank you." Stent swallowed. The human's passive face didn't even register the complement.

"I thought this one was faking." He glanced at the newly dead Vong with satisfaction. "I didn't see him get hit." He turned away, warily eyeing the surviving amphistaffs that lashed on the ground. The other seventeen Imperials were spreading out and watching for a second wave of Yuuzhan Vong. Stent heard a low groan and quickly ran to and knelt beside the injured Chiss.

Through the pain, he had held onto sanity long enough to try and staunch the bleeding in his leg, but Stent could see that it was a bone-deep cut and that a lot of blood had been lost. He activated the comm link at his ear and tried to contact his two scouts. He got no signal from their comm links. He glanced up at the two Imperials nearest him.

"Check ahead, see why the scouts didn't call a warning." He jerked his head toward the rise the Vong had crested. A couple of Imperials scouted the terrain just ahead of each party, to prevent the kind of ambush Stent's party had just run into. That they hadn't called in meant they were both likely dead. Quickly, he switched his comm link to a different frequency.

"Kelli, this is Stent, over." He pitched his voice low. "Kelli, this is Stent. Over." The link buzzed in his ear and he heard the other pilot's voice.

"Kelli here, over." Kelli led one of the other two parties of crashed Imperials, both of which were to the west of Stent's position.

"We've been attacked." He said. "Eight Vong, all dead. Two-" he paused, glanced down at the wounded Chiss. His nose and cheeks were discolored and already being eaten away by the venom. His eyes no longer glowed, but were dark, dull blanks in an agonized face. He hissed air through clenched teeth. "Make that three down. And the scouts."

"Blaster bolts," Kelli muttered, "well we haven't run into anything almost all day." He said, almost reluctantly, "and the terrain's easier too."

"I don't like it either." Stent agreed. "It smells like a trap, and I feel like a nerf being herded to the slaughterhouse." He ground his teeth. "No choice though. My team'll swerve west, maybe catch some of your luck."

"If we were lucky we'd be back at the base in Jaitec, enjoying the friendly natives." Kelli groused. The natives of Jaitec were a barbaric, semi-sentient race that had a fondness for Chiss and human meat. And they were angels compared to the Yuuzhan Vong. "The festering Vong are toying with us, Stent."

"Like a spider with some plump insects in her web." Stent's burning eyes swept across the Vong corpses. "But they'll learn these flies have stings. Pass it on to the other party, Stent out." He turned off the comm link.

"And here," the prone Chiss tried to sit up and fell back with a wince of pain, Stent caught his shoulders and helped as he could, "and here, I thought, I had problems." He tried to smile and failed miserably. Stent swallowed around a lump in his throat. It was Larsek, a longtime wingman of Azure Squadron. He and Stent had been friends since before they had left the Chiss homeworld to join Thrawn's growing fleet. Stent had even stood at Larsek's right hand during his friend's wedding: it was a rare thing for a bonded Chiss to exile himself from the homeworld, and an even rarer female, such as Larsek's young wife Jhaen, who would encourage and accompany her husband in something the Chiss rulers were so opposed to.

"Larsek, you idiot." He snarled, but in fear of the other's life rather than in anger. "Can you see me at all?" Stent asked, his glowing eyes searing into the dead, black orbs in Larsek's face and getting no response, not even a blink.

"I see, the towel someone, put over my face, not much, else." He was taking quick, shallow breathes, and had to stop and draw breath after every few syllables. Blood had saturated the makeshift bandage on his leg and was leaking through to stain the grass. Despite the grave situation Stent felt a smile tug at his face at the response that was at once so surprising and at the same time so like Larsek. Stent had sometimes wondered if he took anything seriously, yet there was no one he could depend on more. He tried to stifle the grin.

The blinded Chiss somehow knew it. "You take things to seriously, Stent." He gasped. "You'll turn stiff as a carbonite statue without me around."

"Don't talk like that." Stent said quickly and glanced up at the Chiss and humans busily stripping any valuable equipment from the two dead Imperials, getting ready to march out and otherwise pretending not to see Stent and Larsek. "We can rig up a splint for your leg, some antitoxin might work on your eyes... someone get me a med-kit!" He began to shout, but was stopped when Larsek reached back to clutch his arm feebly.

"Don't waste it on me." Larsek said firmly. "I'm four-fifths finished and we both know it. Just make it quick and get moving."

"Ah...Larsek..."

"I got careless, you saw." He coughed and flecks of blood appeared on his shirt. "I'm a pilot after all, not a ground pounder. Even if you try and take me along I'll just slow you down, we both know you can't afford the risk." His face twisted in agony. "Just finish it quick, Stent."

For a few seconds that seemed like an eternity Stent stared into those dead eyes, eyes that had pulsed with glowing light just minutes ago. "All right then." He heard himself say as he slowly lifted his blaster.

"Just..." he had to swallow, "just promise me you wont die here like me. Promise you'll get out of this. And tell Jhaen and Holla..." his face crumpled, Holla was his only child, a daughter born only two years ago. "I can't even think of what to tell them."

"I'll think of something for you." Stent promised as he pulled Larsek into a sitting position and pushed his head forward. Larsek made a noise that might have been a chuckle.

"Don't tax your imagination too much, Stent. You'll give yourself brain-fever."

"Yes." Stent reversed his blaster and held it by the barrel: power cells were low and they couldn't afford to waste a single shot that might be used on a Yuuzhan Vong. He raised his arm and brought it down swiftly, using the grip of his blaster like a club and striking Larsek on the back of the head where skull met neck.

He searched for a pulse and felt nothing. Businesslike, like stripped the body of weapons and equipment and motioned one of the Imperials to help him lift the corpse. They lined up the three bodies under one of the trees, crossed arms over chests and covered their faces. There wasn't time for anything else.

Stent surveyed his ragged and diminished party, took his place at the head of the column and led them forward, angling them to the west.

***

Ke'Nass stretched and felt the vonduun shell armor make a few final adjustments before form-fitting itself to his body. He smiled in satisfaction, the armor would turn blaster bolts at anything short of point-blank range, yet he could move about in it as easily as if it were his own skin. Hands encased in flexible gauntlets picked up the amphistaff that lay coiled around the back of his chair.

The Prefect settled the serpent on his shoulders and let its ends coil around his arms. He had a couffee at his side and a bandolier with thud bugs, razorbugs, exploding bugs, packets of blorash jelly and numerous other Vong weapons slung across his chest. He needed only the helm and face mask on the armrest of his chair to complete the uniform. He appraised himself in a full- length mirror of smooth, brightly polished yorrik coral and nodded in appreciation of himself. He was an imposing figure indeed in the sculpted, silver-trimmed armor. Yes, the infidels would be suitably terrified at the sight of him.

"You know what to do while I'm gone." He said offhandedly to one of his underlings, then had a second thought and decided to explain it again. "Monitor the skies for more incursions by the infidels and the villips for word from the Executor." He pointed to one of the villips on a nearby table. "Notify me of anything important."

"Going somewhere, Prefect?" Ke'Nass whirled to face the speaker and felt the amphistaff tense in response to his surprise and anger. Instantly he banished all expression from his face and straightened to face the Vong who had come upon him unawares.

"Nom Anor." He gave the youngling a thin smile and ground his teeth. The new arrival was attired in similar armor and stood at ease near the doorway, casually flexing one gauntlet- covered hand and watching the Prefect with steady, dark eyes. Ke'Nass struck a self-important pose and continued. "I go to join the warriors in the marshes. My search parties have herded the infidels into my trap, I will crush them all in one final strike." He raised a clenched fist and showed his fangs in a savage grin.

"If...that is all Prefect?" The underling glanced at the two Vong eyeing daggers at one another and hurried past Nom Anor and out the door the second Ke'Nass waved for him to depart. The Executor's revolting spawn strolled forward, his calm face revealing nothing.

"I am also preparing to depart in my search for the Jedi. I will require a few warriors to assist me, if you can spare them that is." Bold and secure in his position, with his marred face and new tattoos, he met Ke'Nass' without looking away once and addressed him as an equal: one adult Vong to another. He did not salute, bow, nor make any pretense of servile behavior, and the maddening thing was that Ke'Nass could not punish him for lack of respect: Nom Anor was here on a mission from the Executor himself, and so was not under the Ke'Nass' authority.

"Of course." The Prefect walked the two coral steps up the raised dais where his chair stood and took his masked helm from the armrest. He felt his stomach twist in response to his bone-deep anger and, he refused to admit it even to himself, uncertainty: before today the Prefect had never really considered the Executor's son a threat, he had never thought about the young Vong at all except as an excuse to make some jibe against Sang Anor. Today, however, when Nom Anor had arrived on the seed world, Ke'Nass had been forced to take notice of him, and the older Yuuzhan Vong did not like what he saw.

Nom Anor bore a close resemblance to his mother, even through the new scars, broken cheekbone and tattoos one could easily see that, but there was something about the way he held himself and the piercing quality of those dark eyes that called Sang Anor to mind. An interesting attribute, and a disturbing one.

Disturbing because, for the fist time, Ke'Nass considered that the Executor's son might prove to be just as dangerous as his father. Perhaps more so.

"Thank you. I am glad you seem to be making progress in exterminating the infidels that profane our seed world." Nom Anor glanced at the long, broad table that took up much of the Prefect's conference chambers. Made of living coral, the tabletop was sculpted in a map of the marshland area where the Imperials were located. With data provided by coralskipper flyovers and Yuuzhan Vong search parties as they had hunted the Nesz, the topograph was as accurate as any computer could make.

Small sections of the dark coral shimmered with different colors representing the locations of Ke'Nass' hunting parties and the probable location of their Imperial quarry. A row of villips at the head of the living table, connected to the map via neural cords, kept the locations updated.

As Nom Anor watched, some of the shimmering spots of color moved slightly in accordance to the search parties, each of which had a villip joined to one of the villips on the table. As things appeared, the Imperials would soon be driven into a peninsula. They would find themselves surrounded by water on three sides and nowhere to run. The Yuuzhan Vong lying in wait and the search parties that had harried them would all fall on the infidels at once, slaughtering them utterly.

The Prefect narrowed his eyes. "You approve of the arrangement?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. Nom Anor looked up and raised a brow.

"No, not really." The young Vong said politely, choosing to take the Prefect seriously. "The hunting parties are well positioned, but why so few warriors in each group? Your hunters have taken losses in every encounter with the stranded Imperials, despite whittling away a few of the infidels in the process."

Ke'Nass clenched his fists, how dare this boy question him! He returned the polite smile, though, and answered in kind. "Ah, a very astute observation, but you lack experience, youngling, however much you excelled in war games and covert operations." He sat in his thronelike chair. He knew he looked especially imposing in the beautifully sculpted coral chair with its back spreading out above his head to double as a stand to lay his amphistaff on.

He lay one hand on an armrest and held his helmet in the crook of his other arm. His amphistaff slithered down Ke'Nass' arm and rested its head on the Prefect's wrist. These subtle reminders of Ke'Nass' authority and experience should cow the young Vong.

"It would do no good to simply overrun the infidels with superior numbers." He continued in a lightly patronizing tone. "I have given the warriors under my command the opportunity to show individual skill and ability, and to shake off the laziness and complacency that results from being posted in a seed world with only a slave species to quell." And to try and win a measure of personal glory out of this honorless fiasco. He added silently. And if the warriors take a few losses while hunting the infidels, it will only make them seem that more dangerous, and finally defeating them much more escalating for me.

"Besides, the infidels are likely to scatter in the face of a direct and overwhelming attack. We would miss a few then, and it would take even more time and energy to track them down. My way is better, to herd them all into one spot, then exterminate them when there is nowhere to run to." He concluded triumphantly, then suppressed a scowl on seeing Nom Anor looked less than impressed.

"One might argue that the death toll of our own warriors is excessively high for dealing with a few ill-supplied Imperial pilots stranded in unfamiliar terrain." Nom Anor returned. "One might question, in fact, how it was they were even allowed to land in the first place, when your coralskippers could have easily destroyed their fighters while they were in the sky." The crash sight for the fighters was depicted at the edge of the coral table, TIE fighter- shaped lumps of coral among broken trees.

"The appearance of the Jedi's battleship and its explosion distracted the coralskippers." Ke'Nass retorted.

"Yes, I've seen the battle reports stored in the villips." The younger Vong nodded. "What I am puzzled with are your decisions during the battle. The coralskippers simply scattered after the battleship's explosion and each pilot went after any target he could. They only needed someone to issue an order and they would have gotten back in formation, yet our defenders were left to their own devices. Why? Where was their leadership?" Nom Anor idly scratched his own amphistaff under the chin.

Ke'Nass had shot out of the chair before the last word was out of Nom Anor's mouth. The Prefect's face was quivering and white with fury. The amphistaff reared back over his shoulder and hissed in response.

"Silence!" He howled, then closed his jaw with an audible snap when he realized Nom Anor had finished and he had just broken silence by calling for it. For a second he could only choke on his knotted tongue and spear the boy with his bulging eyes. Where had leadership been during the final stage of the battle? Curled up in its chambers getting good and drunk, the tone implied. The fact that it was correct did nothing to ease the sting of the verbal slap in the face. The Prefect stood, terrible in his wrath, eyes flashing lightning from the dark, stormy face, while Nom Anor cocked his head and waited for the Prefect to express himself.

"You-" he finally managed to choke out, "you, you..." He swallowed. "You think some fresh scars and a few tattoos still wet on your flesh make you a man? Give you the right to come here and question my orders? Perhaps you wish to take over the hunt for the infidels, now that I've boxed them up. Is that why Sang Anor sent you here? To steal my victory?"

"I am here for the Jedi, Prefect, nothing more or less. The Executor," he emphasized the title, reminding Ke'Nass of the honorific he had not used, "sent me here for that reason alone, not to question your orders, or lack of them. I came into this chamber to ask for warriors to aid me. You were the one who asked if I approved of your plans."

Ke'Nass had to take several deep breaths before he could move from his ridged position and be sure he wouldn't throw himself at the other Vong and throttle him with his gauntlet- covered hands. "You will have your warriors, Nom Anor." He sat back down, the amphistaff settling restlessly on his arm.

"My thanks, Prefect. I go now to the priest, so that he might perform the rites for a safe and successful journey. They will meet me before the temple?"

"Yes, yes, you are dismissed."

Nom Anor bowed and backed away. "Thank you, and be sure that the Executor will receive a glowing report of your performance, Prefect." The orifice to the room closed behind him, leaving Ke'Nass to stew in his bile.

He despised Sang Anor, and now he was learning to hate the man's son with equal fever. What he would never admit though, not even to himself, was that he was afraid of them as well.

Ke'Nass had always been afraid of Sang Anor, ever since they were young feenir going through the weeding-out phase of a Vong's development. Ah, he had known even then that Sang Anor would not be one of those culled, and even then could not meet the other child's eyes. He could suppress and mask it, but the fear was always there, buried so deeply in the Prefect's psyche that it was the root of his hate and jealousy.

A lot of it was the simple fact that Ke'Nass couldn't understand Sang Anor. Apart from his intellect and cunning, the Executor was different from other Yuuzhan Vong. The Vong were a hot-blooded, passionate race, but Sang Anor was cold, calm, always collected, always watching everyone with those bright eyes, weighing and measuring, cataloging weaknesses and filing them away for later use.

He had taken only one wife when his rank entitled him to five at most, unheard of in a high-ranking Vong! And that wife had given him only one child in all their time together, yet he had never seemed angry or disappointed, as Ke'Nass certainly would have been.

Once there had been a celebration held on the worldship after the Vong had defeated a group of infidel pirates that had stumbled across them. Ke'Nass and Sang Anor were simple warriors themselves at that point, and the Jedi Vergere was still a prisoner being studied by the Shapers and priests. It had been four years after the worldship's arrival in this galaxy and the battle over a strange world called Zonama Sekot, and the Yuuzhan Vong hadn't faced a true challenge since, they had been too preoccupied with slinking in the shadows and avoiding notice. Thus any battle won was a cause for celebration and many of the warriors were getting pleasantly drunk, Sang Anor and Ke'Nass among them.

Ke'Nass had turned to Sang Anor and slurred a question that had been on his mind for some time: why only one wife? Wasn't he man enough for more?

Sang Anor had fixed Ke'Nass (who had then been Kerin Nass) with a look that sobered him in a heartbeat and imprinted the moment on his brain. He had stared at Kerin Nass for a few seconds, considering his response before answering: "Not man enough? Lyrra is worth any other three females. I couldn't handle more." Then he had turned and walked away.

Yes, Ke'Nass had to admit, Lyrra Anor was something else. But the Prefect couldn't conceive of having just one partner and being, as Sang Anor apparently was, completely happy. Nor would Ke'Nass have been overly concerned if one of his wives had been killed. Certainly he would swear vengeance and do whatever he could to find and destroy the killer, honor demanded it, besides, an attack on any part of his household would be an attack on his pride. But he certainly wouldn't be affected personally!

Sang Anor on the other hand...it had been three years and he was still in mourning!

Then there was this business with his son. Ke'Nass himself had fathered numerous offspring on his wives, and the infants had been given to them collectively to nurse and raise and to keep them from bothering Ke'Nass until they were toddlers, old enough to put into training with the other young Vong of their age-group, at which time they had been sent to the communal training areas of the worldship. Half a dozen of his children had survived into adulthood, Ke'Nass saw them occasionally and thought of them about as often.

Sang Anor had assigned his own son as a personal aid as soon as Nom Anor had graduated the basic stages of his training, the boy was taken under the Executor's wing on entering young adulthood. It was incomprehensible. It was-

a weakness.

Ke'Nass sat bolt upright, then slowly stood and walked down the steps to the coral floor. His eyes had taken on a fierce intensity and his lips twitched upward in a small smile.

Yes, a weakness, a flaw in the Executor's armor, a way for Ke'Nass to make his rival suffer as the Prefect himself had suffered at Sang Anor's hands. The countless humiliations, being robbed of glory and praise again and again. And now being consigned to this unimportant post during the greatest battle the Yuuzhan Vong had yet faced in this galaxy and a boy with the tattoos still fresh on his body sent to undermine his work, it was the final disgrace!

Well, Executor, you have just proved too cunning for your own good! You have delivered into my hands a weapon to carve your very soul! Yes, he knew the man's weakness: the boy who so resembled his mother. The Prefect was not a very imaginative man, but at that moment he easily put himself in Sang Anor's place, seeing his beloved wife whenever he looked at his son's face, feeling joy as the boy grew strong before his eyes.

And he could imagine a shadow of the sharp, bitter pain that would smite Sang Anor if his son, who was all he had left of Lyrra Anor, were to be taken away from him. You once told me you could destroy an enemy without bruising his skin or drawing so much as a drop of blood. I didn't understand then, but I do now. Oh yes, Executor, I do.

He lifted the masked helmet to his face and eased it on. He felt the vonduun crab conform to the contours of his face and head, the lips on the mask matched his perpetual sneer exactly. He took the amphistaff into his hands and made it stiffen as the doorway irised open, allowing him to walk into the hallway beyond.

Ceis Grasm, the female warrior who had acted as Ke'Nass' immediate subaltern since the failed Imperial attack was walking down the corridor to his chambers at that moment. She stopped and saluted when she saw the Prefect.

"Master, your coralskipper is prepared. Shall we go?"

Ke'Nass studied the warrior for a second, noting the restrained excitement in her gleaming eyes. Ceis Grasm had the passions of a young Vong, but she was also a seasoned fighter and, best of all, completely loyal to Ke'Nass. Perfect.

"You will not be accompanying me when we crush the infidels," he said, "I have another mission for you. The Executor's son has recently arrived on the seed world, he is here to hunt down and kill the Jedi who may have been aboard the battleship that exploded itself. He has requested warriors to aid him. You will be one of those I send."

Ceis Grasm stiffened visibly and her eyes widened behind her mask. Ke'Nass could read the thoughts behind those outraged eyes: she was not to take part in the slaughter of the trespassing infidels, an act that would bring much glory. Instead she would be hunting an escaped slave and, worst of all, she would be under the command of a boy barely out of the feenir stage! "Master," she said uncertainly, "if I have offended you in some way-"

"No, no," Ke'Nass silenced her with a wave of his gauntlet- covered hand. "I simply have a more important job for you, subaltern." He motioned for Ceis Grasm to take a step closer. "There is an important matter that must be attended to." He said in a low voice. "You see, hunting Jedi is a dangerous business, subaltern, and young Nom Anor is still somewhat lacking in experience."

Under the mask, Ceis Grasm felt her lips tighten until they turned white. She was being assigned to baby-sit a feenir? "I will be at the youngling's side every step of the way." She assured him in clipped tones.

Ke'Nass smiled. "Good, because under no circumstances is Nom Anor to survive."

***

Vergere's welcome to the Nesz camp was not a warm one, but it was still a welcome. When she, Oin and their guides passed concealed sentries that made not a sound to give themselves away, yet were clearly sensed by both Oin and Vergere, and entered the camp proper the Nesz turned as one to the newcomers. There were no shouts of greeting or welcome, but dozens gathered around Oin, who walked slowly towards them.

They closed ranks around the young Nesz and a low, mournful keening sound was loosed from every reptilian throat in a hum that made Vergere's feathers vibrate and penetrated her very bones. The Nesz reached out and gently touched Oin with their claws and snouts. They were packed closely together, but did not crowd each other or Oin.

The Jedi drew back and pulled her cloak around her. The welcoming ritual was a touching experience, but Vergere was uncomfortable; she did not share the special sense of one-ness that united the Nesz. She felt set apart, which reminded her that she was as alien to this world as the Yuuzhan Vong were.

After a moment the Nesz, by unspoken announcement, broke off the ritual and drifted back to their various chores, mostly gathering up food, tending to wounded Nesz and preparing spears and arrows. Oin waved Vergere forward and sat down near a small group of three Nesz.

"I am Dra. Many here believe your return is a sign of better times." One said without preamble. "I pray they are right: the Nesz are sore in need of hope." The speaker was a young male, gaunt and scarred like most of the Nesz were now. He was missing an eye where a long scar crossed his face. He leaned forward and pitched his voice low. "Is there a reason to hope?" He asked softly. Vergere met his single dark eye with her violet ones and steeled herself. The Nesz deserved the truth.

"Yes." Oin spoke up, startling the Jedi. "There is one hope left, a small one, and a hard road, but yes."

Vergere turned wide eyes to the young Nesz, what was he talking about? Dra and the other Nesz closed his eyes and shuddered in relief. "Then it was not in vain." Vergere didn't need to ask what he meant. She had seen and felt it at the battle sites, the Yuuzhan Vong bodies.

"No, it was not." Oin assured. "You had to fight back and survive long enough for us to return." Vergere remained silent and hid her puzzlement: had the strain broken his mind? Why give the Nesz false hope?

"What has been going on since we left?" Vergere asked, glancing at the surroundings. The camp was clearly designed to be packed up at a moment's notice. Unlike the small villages the reptile-creatures had once used, this camp had nothing resembling a permanent structure, just bedrolls containing what few possessions the Nesz needed. The small parties of natives scattered throughout the swamps had quickly learned to travel lightly, and they had always lived off the land.

"When Oin and I departed, the Yuuzhan Vong were leaving you free Nesz alone, mostly, unless they had an immediate need for slave labor. They were content with gradually reforming your planet into a seed world for their growing fleet. What has happened to change that?" She and Oin glanced at the three seated Nesz and at Dra, who seemed to be their leader, and suddenly realized something: there were no elders here.

This was more than odd: the Nesz elders would naturally be here to greet them, as they would be the ones to make the important decisions. In fact Vlu, one of the chief elders, was a good friend of hers and would certainly be a part of any move the Nesz would make.

"We do not know." Dra answered. "It began about a week after you left. Once there had been only a bare handful of Yuuzhan Vong actually on the planet, enough to oversee their creatures and slaves, now there are hundreds. They raided deep into areas not yet changed into coral fields. They had left places they were not immediately using alone before and only set traps near the territories they occupied, so we thought we were safe." Dra shook his head.

"It was...beyond my power to describe. The invaders are now intent on crushing and enslaving the Nesz completely, down to the last hatchling. They will not tolerate even one free Nesz on this world. We do not know the reason for this."

Vergere's stomach twisted. She knew why the Vong were so intent to subdue the Nesz when they had once been seen simply as animals to be used at need and otherwise left alone: she was that reason.

Nom Anor had seen Oin with Vergere, so the Yuuzhan Vong knew the Nesz had been helping her, a Jedi, spy on them and ruin their plans. This was done to punish the Nesz for defying them, and to remove the natives' potential threat.

"We had to fight back." Dra said defiantly, defending their actions. Violence was not even a crime among the Nesz: it was almost completely unknown. "We had to defend ourselves." Oin glanced at Dra's bow, arrows and spear, which the Nesz leader had unthinkingly laid near at hand. Yes, they were learning quickly. "But often it was not enough." He squeezed his single eye shut.

"Dra," Oin said quietly, "where is Vlu? He more than any other should be here." For a moment Dra did not respond, then he slowly raised his head to meet Oin's eyes with a grieving gaze.

"Vlu...joined the Eternals...a few days ago." He answered. One of the Nesz lay a clawed hand on Dra's forearm, he accepted it wordlessly. "He was weary, weakening, he had to be helped to walk and could not scale the trees with the rest of us, nor could he hunt." Dra swallowed. "He called me forward and told me I would lead in his stead. He said he was a risk to us and we would have a better chance evading the enemy patrols without him." Dra swallowed and forced himself to continue. "He left us and walked into the swamp."

Vergere could say nothing, could think of nothing. Of course that was how Vlu would do it that way: no Nesz could bring himself to do harm to another. But it was still horrible in more ways than a stranger would understand. The Nesz would be aware of what Vlu experienced, all of them.

"There has been less pressure lately." Dra went on, obviously changing the subject. "We were hoping you could provide an explanation." The Jedi nodded for him to continue. "It started the day you returned: we saw a battle in the sky, the invaders' ships fought against flyers that resembled the one Oin had seen just before you left."

Vergere remembered: the Yuuzhan Vong had captured an Imperial TIE fighter and its Chiss pilot, it had been the Empire's presence so near this world that had prompted Sang Anor to try and have Thrawn assassinated in the first place. "Imperial craft." She said.

"There were more Yuuzhan Vong than Imperials," Dra continued, "and they were forced to the ground. Then there was a great explosion in the sky."

"That was us." Oin put in.

"Since then the Imperials, those you call human and Chiss, have been wandering around swamps. The Yuuzhan Vong have been concentrating on them, and so have mostly left us alone. It has been a great relief."

"Have you tried to make contact with the Imperials?" Vergere asked.

"Almost from the second they landed." Dra nodded. "We tried to use some of the Basic phrases you taught us, but they shot at our scouts the moment they revealed themselves."

"They probably thought you were Yuuzhan Vong creatures." The Jedi put in.

"Possibly, but we didn't take another such chance. Since then our scouts have simply followed their progress, nothing more."

"They are strong," one of the Nesz said, "and have powerful weapons. They have fought off the Yuuzhan Vong so far."

"Not for much longer." Dra shook his head. "The Yuuzhan Vong are herding them into a trap. In just over an hour all the Imperials here will be slaughtered." He grimaced. "Then they will go back to hunting Nesz."

"We need to help them." Vergere had been unaware that she was about to speak until the words were out of her mouth. She blinked and the four seated Nesz were all looking at her.

"No," Dra shook his head, "we would run the risk of being caught in the Vong trap as well, I will not risk more Nesz lives than I must."

"Your people know these swamps, Dra," Vergere pressed. She had spoken out of instinct alone, and as her Master had always told her, it meant she was hearing the will of the Force clearly. "You know them better than the Yuuzhan Vong ever could, that is the only reason you have been able to hide and resist them this long. If anyone can get help them with impunity, it is the Nesz."

"They would be a great help against the Vong." Oin put in. "And helping them would put us in good terms with the Imperial forces when they arrive." Vergere glanced at him, but he did not meet her eyes.

"They shot at us once," Dra narrowed his single eye, but Vergere could tell he was relenting, "what if they will not listen to us?"

"I will make them listen." Vergere promised, but she was confused despite the confidence she put in her voice. Why would Oin back her up? He knew as well as she did that nothing would deter Thrawn from his goal: razing this world to the ground to cleanse it of the Yuuzhan Vong.

"Very well." Dra said at last. "If you can convince the Imperials to accept our help, then the Nesz will guide them away from the ambush."

***

Stent scowled and rapped the comm link with his knuckle, but he only got static.

"I could have done that." Kelli said dryly. "I let you try and fix it because I thought you knew what you were doing."

"It works sometimes." Stent said defensively. He glanced briefly at the human pilot. Mov Kelli had been the leader of one of the three parties of Imperials. That was, before circumstance had forced the three bands to combine once again.

The Imperials were taking a brief rest from the steady marching, but were still alert with weapons at the ready in case anything should approach the defense perimeter. They were moving in the only direction open to them: due west. Stent didn't like it, and his unease grew with every step they took. He was sure the others felt the same way: one had to have almost extraordinary senses to be a pilot, after all, sense enough to know when you were walking into a sarlacc's maw at any rate.

Stent glanced around. "One up side to all this," Kelli said, "the Yuuzhan Vong have managed to do what a thousand regulations and remonstrations couldn't: get humans and Chiss to word together without a complaint." Stent had to agree. The pilots, human and Chiss, were sitting or standing side-by-side, sometimes back-to-back as they treated wounds and spoke in low voices. The soldiers had been forced to depend on each other for so long and so completely that the practiced contempt for all other races had eroded away.

"I'm glad you still have your sense of humor." Stent said as he leaned against one of the massive trees.

"You have to have to do something, Stent. Now about that comm link-"

"I would say it just needs retuning." Both Imperial spun, weapons drawn and pointed in the direction of the strange voice. There was no one there.

"Uh!" Kelli grunted as something shoved him past Stent. The human fell face-first in the grass while Stent whirled back around to face the assailant: a small, slender figure in a hooded cloak. He swung his blaster toward the figure, but the weapon seemed to turn to ice in his hand. Before Stent's unbelieving eyes the blaster flew out of his grip.

The next thing he knew there was a blade of violet light in the cloaked one's feathered hands. The Jedi flicked her wrist and the lightsaber blade was all but touching the side of Stent's neck. The Jedi bounded forward in a graceful leap, seized Stent's shoulder in a surprisingly strong grip and spun him around.

By now the rest of the Imperials knew something was happening, and Vergere and her captive were the focus of sixty- some blasters. The Jedi exerted some pressure on Stent's shoulder, forcing the taller Chiss to bend his knees until his head was level with hers.

"Tell them to lower their weapons." She told him, glad that Imperial-ingrained discipline had kept the pilots from simply opening fire. So was Stent, as she was using him as a shield and standing in front of the bora tree, there was no way the Imperials could shoot her in the back: the only way to get her would be to blast through Stent himself.

"That's the Jedi who tried to kill the Grand Admiral!" One of the pilots exclaimed. The Imperial kept their weapons trained on them.

"You've got the wrong version.? Vergere spoke to Stent, but somehow she was heard by all of them. "I saved Thrawn's life. Believe me, if I had been trying to kill him, he'd be dead. The same with you."

"Why are you here then, Jedi, if not to fight us?" Stent gasped as he tried to edge away from the burning blade that was not-quite-scorching his flesh.

"To help you. Now tell them to lower their weapons. All I want is a chance to talk and your word that I can leave in peace if you choose not to accept my help."

"You are in no position to set conditions." Stent's eye's gleamed. "Even if you kill me, you can't fight all of us at once. Release me and hand over your weapon and I will listen to you."

"I'll do no such thing." Vergere rolled her eyes, why was all this aggressive posturing necessary?

"You're surrounded." Stent pointed out.

"On the contrary," Vergere grinned, "you are." She raised her free hand over Stent's head. On that signal, an arrow seemed to sprout from one of the trees, disturbingly near a pilot's head. Another appeared in the ground, inches from Stent's feet. The Imperials scrambled, trying to take cover against snipers. A few kept their blasters trained on Stent and Vergere, the rest aimed at the surrounding trees and high grass.

"I warn you," the Jedi said in another all-encompassing voice, "open fire and my allies will do likewise." She turned her violet eyes to the back of Stent's head. "Now, do we fight or talk? It's your choice."

Stent clenched his teeth and for a moment his eyes flashed rebelliously, then his shoulders slumped. "Very well, Jedi. Lower your weapons!" He shouted. An instant later the heat beside his neck had disappeared and the hand released its grip on his shoulder. He straightened and spun around to confront the Jedi, but though he towered over her, she was clearly far from intimidated.

"A wise choice." Vergere clipped the lightsaber handle to her belt and arranged herself in a sitting position. "Now, will you have a seat?"