The Birth Of Acceptance – Chapter 8

By Sienn (2002)

 

Rating (for chapter):  PG-13

Protagonists: Luke/Mara

Category: Action/Angst/Drama 

Series: Part III of "Soul's Trial" Trilogy 

Time Frame: 26 A.Y. (immediately after "Soul's Trial II: Healing") 

Spoilers:

See Chapter 1 

Disclaimer:

See Chapter 1

 

 

Yuuzhan Vong Ship Criarto, Coruscant System, Late Night

Khalee Lah was exasperated. And once again, his betrothed was the reason. In the last few days, he had grown almost used to her presence and had actually started to enjoy talking to her.

Being a well-trained Yuuzhan Vong Warrior that had never been interested in politics, shapings or studies of alien races, he had needed some time to familiarize himself with Miiram's thoughts and beliefs. She had shared with him a lot of musings about what was wrong in the Yuuzhan Vong society, about their attitude towards everything that didn't belong to their species, to everything non-living.

At first, Khalee had been appalled and grown all the more sure she was harbouring heretic thoughts when she had told him about her wish to examine a lightsaber, but step by step, he had recognised that this young woman was a faithful Yuuzhan Vong. She believed in the Gods, just thought that this wouldn't have to mean that one had to limit one's horizon.

Whereas the Warmaster's son had resolved to only accept her point of view and not share it, he had come to reconsider this decision in many an hours long talk with the woman to whom he would be pledged so very soon.

While his respect for Miiram Shimrra and her ideas had grown, another feeling had been gradually blossoming along with it. One that irritated him and that he still didn't really understand. She began to mean something to him. Khalee found himself searching her closeness and this evening, when she hadn't turned up in her quarters, where they usually shared the night meal, he had been.... Well, miffed. Normally, this word didn't belong to his vocabulary, but since he had met the striking woman, much had changed.

He had found an enthusiasm to learn in himself that he had never even guessed to be there and her ideas and plans did intrigue him. Given the chance and the time, he would be able to perfect them in a way to make them really benefit his race.

Miiram was ambitious and brave, headstrong and eloquent, but she knew that her father would never acknowledge advice from her. He loved her as much as a Yuuzhan Vong was able to; he gave her what she desired, put up with her quirks and for him doubtlessly maniacal thoughts. But he would never accept her as an advisor.

The son of his most famous Warmaster, though, was another case.

When his betrothed had first shared with him her little scheme, Khalee had had trouble to determine whether to be angry, flattered or just dumbfounded. That Miiram was audacious he had already known, experienced first hand, but the extent had never become clear to him until she had confided into him.

"Father won't listen to me, Khalee. He never will. I'm just a woman and he will think my plans, my ideas, are mere crap."

She had sounded so unusually subdued when she had told him this one evening that Khalee had felt some soothing called for. After all, his father had taught him his manners.

"But they aren't, Miiram. Perhaps they could be perfected in regards to some points, but otherwise, they're absolutely impressive."

She had blushed, averted her eyes in a delicate gesture of being embarrassed and whispered: "But geniality doesn't count if it doesn't come from a real Warrior."

At this, Khalee had had nothing to reply. It was true. He himself would NEVER have listened to the advice of a female Yuuzhan Vong. They were respected in their culture, yes. As mothers, as Assassins, as Priestesses... but seldom as Warriors.

In order to become a full-fledged Warrior, a woman would have to give up her right to give birth to offspring. There were not many who accepted this sacrifice and the males didn't encourage them to do so. Children were the assurance of their race's well being. And without women, there would be no children. It was as simple as that.

Unfortunately, that meant that there were borders and hindrances created by these social structures that could prevent some brilliant plans like the ones of Miiram Shimrra from getting through to anyone who had enough brains to consider them for what they were.

After all this had gone through his head, Khalee had sighed softly.

"I wish I could help you." He had said.

Khalee shook his head. He had been stupid. He hadn't recognised the trap Miiram had created for him, had stumbled into it headfirst and hadn't found a way out of it anymore. Having offered help once, you couldn't just back off like that, especially not with a lady. And even less if this lady was the Supreme Overlord's daughter.

The moment these words had left his mouth, Miiram's head had snapped high and the sadness in her eyes had been replaced by eagerness and a glimmer of amusement that had annoyed the Warrior to no end.

"You can INDEED help me."

He had frowned suspiciously, wondering what she was getting at, having openly gaped when she told him.

"YOU could present my plans as your own propositions to my father after we've been pledged to each other."

He had protested. He had tried to argue. But Miiram was the most headstrong individual he had ever encountered - he not counted.

"You are Tsavong Lah's son. My father favours YOUR father. If YOU tell him all that in my place, he will consider it."

Khalee had slowly shaken his head, his eyes holding doubt and suspicions: "He might still not accept it."

His betrothed had laughed at that and taken his hand, surprising him so much that he hadn't withdrawn it before she had had it securely grasped.

"No, Khalee. My father is traditional - even old-fashioned for a Yuuzhan Vong. But he is not dumb. If a Warrior - even a Warmaster's son - presents ideas to him, he will listen and will consider. And if he considers, he will think it worth a try. I KNOW my father. Believe me."

The young Yuuzhan Vong laughed softly while wandering through the corridors of the Criarto. She had played him for a fool, had laid out the bait, had waited until he had bitten into it and then dragged him in like fish. At first he had been angry, but after that he had found it amusing, even impressing. Surely he would never be bored in his marriage.

Quickly though, he reminded himself that he was supposed to be angry about the fact that she had made him sit alone in front of his dinner for an hour, with honour guards standing in the corners and desperately trying not to grin. This was embarrassing, and not to a small extent. If anyone of those stupid guards had sneered or even moved, Khalee would have challenged and killed him. No question. Miiram wouldn't have liked that, calling it a waste of race potential. But that didn't matter to the Warmaster's son.

He allowed this woman much. A lot more than he had EVER allowed a woman. But somewhere, this had to be stopped. In a Yuuzhan Vong marriage, the male was supposed to be the superior. Khalee Lah had never dared dream of finding himself with a woman that even dared question his authority in private. Much less had he ever thought that he would actually like it.

Turning into a corridor that led deeper into the ship, he wondered what his father would say to the manners of Miiram Shimrra and the way his son handled them. Would he agree? Would he be amused? Or, worse, ashamed? Perhaps he would ask his father's council. Perhaps he would ask about his mother, whom he had never met. He sure had become curious over the years what had happened to her.

Silently berating himself, he turned his thoughts back to the present. After having questioned some guards and Shamed Ones who worked on the Criarto, he was more or less sure where to find his betrothed, though it eluded him why by Yun-Yammka she would be there at this time of the day.

Pressing his hand on a spot on the yorik coral wall and watching it open in front of him, he stepped into a large room, without window-openings, in whose midst a thick, fleshy knot hung, suspended by nerves as broad as him, that grew out of the floor and the ceiling. In a wide circle around the knot, coral seats were arranged, with cognition hoods at the ready beside every one of them.

This late - or should he say this early? - there was no one but the figure of Miiram Shimrra, whose features were hidden under the cognition hood that covered all of her face down to her upper lip.

"Here you are, my lady." He grunted, planting himself behind her and folding his arms in front of his chest.

"I told you not to call me that." She replied, sounding absent-minded, but still enraged.

"And I told you to have dinner with me this evening. You don't keep your word, I don't keep mine."

She snorted, striking a part of the throbbing knot softly. "A bit childish, aren't we?"

"Just angry."

"You mean disappointed."

Khalee rolled his eyes: "No, I mean angry. Why should I be disappointed?"

"Why should you be angry?" came her retort, still sounding as if she was rather preoccupied at the moment.

The Warrior was exasperated. He wasn't fit for such word games. In fact, he hated talking. He was used to conveying what he wanted and needed in a couple of short words and all his life, people around him had understood him and complied immediately. Miiram turned everything into a duel with words. Surely just because it was not proper for a female and a male to duel if it wasn't a real grave insult on both sides.

"Never mind. What are you doing there anyway?"

"I'm consulting the ship's brain."

Khalee seriously considered strangling her then and there. No one - and he really meant that - should be forced to put up with THIS.

"I SEE that. I wanted to know WHY you're doing it."

The smallest trace of a smile pursed Miiram's lips, which were pressed together in a grim expression otherwise.

"I'm doing some research on Mara Jade Skywalker's behalf. She's worrying about her mate."

The Warmaster's son admitted to be dumbfounded. "Why ever would you help an infidel?"

"Because she is my friend, Khalee." The use of his name was supposed to soothe him, and against his very own will, it worked quite fine.

"You're befriended with an infidel? A Jeedai of all people? Couldn't you at least pick a Warrior?"

"The Jeedai are delicate and very impressive warriors and you know that." She corrected him, her fingers nimbly wandering all about the part of the brain knot she had access to.

"I've heard some talks." He admitted, frowning unwillingly.

"Then you should try and gather some practical experience." His betrothed suggested, a mocking sneer evident on the part of her face he could see.

'I kill her.' Khalee thought. 'If she continues to be like that, I kill her. Probably Shimrra just set the two of us up to get her away from him.'

Oblivious to his annoyance and obvious helplessness with her attitude, Miiram continued, still being fairly distracted. "I suggest you challenge Luke Skywalker to a friendly training fight. I'd like to see who of the two of you would win."

The very idea of challenging the Jeedai Lord made Khalee forget the taunting female. His forehead furrowed in serious contemplation. The human didn't look like he could put up much of a fight and a victory above this being the infidel's revered like a god would surely look good.

He just wanted to reply something to his betrothed's proposition when Miiram stiffened, pulling the cognition hood off her head and staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"What?" he demanded to know. "Did you find something? Perhaps this would be the right moment to tell me what you're searching for in the first place."

"As I said," Miiram began to explain, "Mara is worried about her mate. He has gotten a present from a Shaper called Nen Yim. You know about what happened between him and Mezhan Kwaad?"

Khalee nodded, his interest finally peeked.

"Well, naturally, Mara was suspicious about the present from a Shaper. It was an amphistaff. I accidentally witnessed how he unpacked it and got acquainted with it."

"Acquainted with it? This is impossible. He is non-Yuuzhan Vong. An amphistaff wouldn't obey him."

Miiram nodded: "My first thoughts exactly. Yet, this staff DID obey him. I didn't tell that Mara yet, because I didn't want to make her jump to conclusions."

"And what did you find out now?"

"Something that makes me think that there is a reason to be worried about the Jeedai Skywalker. And something that makes me think I have found a clue about who is sabotaging your father's plans for this galaxy."

Immediately, Khalee sat next to her on the seat, staring intently into her dark eyes: "Tell me who did this to Direen. Tell me WHO wants to discredit my father in the Supreme Overlord's eyes."

"A Shaper named Nen Yim sent the Jeedai Lord an amphistaff. She claimed as thank you for him saving her worldship. She was new to Direen, though, and none of her kin were there. So, she lied. I did some research. She was originally assigned to the worldship Doola, being trained under the Master Shaper Taal Riid. A week ago, Taal Riid was found in his laboratories by his apprentice - dead."

"And?"

Miiram smiled grimly: "After some investigations, it has been stated that his inner organs and veins have been dissolved by acid. Immediately before his demise, he has experimented with bugs. One of them he held clutched in his right hand. Direen has been killed by bugs that dissolved yorik coral with the help of acid secretion."

Khalee's eyes blazed with rage: "So this Nen Yim is plotting against us. She will die for this."

"Yes, but I don't think she's alone. She is younger than me. She can't know that much. I'm sure there is someone else behind this."

"So what are you going to do?"

"The Criarto has a connection to all ships in this galaxy. I'm going to take a look at the information accessed by Nen Yim before she left Doola."

"Then let's get to work."

Miiram grinned, happy to have her betrothed's help in this, and settled back into her seat. While she pulled the cognition hood back on, she wondered dimly whether Mara suspected anything and whether she had noticed anything strange about her husband. She had the feeling she had.

 

Coruscant, Skywalker Apartment, Same Time

A Jedi dreamt seldom. It was not efficient to waste times of calm and relaxation where your mind could settle down with something as trivial as dreaming. So IF a Jedi dreamt, he or she was usually quite suspicious and there were not many occasions on which the dreams were comfortable for the one who had them.

A very small part of Mara Jade Skywalker's mind knew that she was dreaming. Unfortunately, this very small part had no reign over her emotions at that particular moment.

She was in a room, a darkened room made of yorik coral. The dim light made her guess that the coral was coloured deep red. Mist was covering the floor, swallowing every sound she made while she was wandering towards the other end of the hall.

It was vast, tremendous in fact, and for a short moment, Mara wondered why she was walking straight ahead, DEEPER into the room, instead of seeking for an exit. She didn't want to be in this room, but SOMETHING kept drawing her forwards. There was something she had to find, had to see.

Step by step, she made her way, shivering as the cold hit her, as the walls dissolved around her. Her feet were freezing. As she progressed, he could see neither wall nor ceiling of the chamber. There was simply no other way than continue onward. Mara didn't know how she knew that, but she trusted her feelings, her instincts. And they kept telling her that it was important to go further.

It seemed like an eternity for her, just walking and walking, and after a while, she felt like collapsing where she was and just stay there forever. But this wouldn't do.

There was something calling her. It was further into the chamber, very close now. The beautiful redhead fastened her steps and as she hurried straight forward, something materialised before her, out of the dark.

Gnarled trees, about her height, were growing out of a wall, out of the floor directly in front of the wall. They were grey and twisted, forming a world of their own. In there could be anything and nothing.

What drew Mara's attention, made her gasp, clasp her hands over her mouth and ran without precaution was what was situated in front of the small glade.

A stone table, very high and long, but not very broad, was standing there and on it laid Luke. Mara's steps, the rustling of her nightgown, echoed loudly in the chamber, in her dream, when she hurried to his side.

Clad in his dark Jedi robes, his lightsaber at his side, he lay motionlessly, eyes closed, hands folded above his chest. When she stood above him, staring in horror down on his pale face that glowed with a sort of inner light, she understood that he was dead. No, dying. The gentle light that seemed to cover him from within himself was flickering, it was retreating.

Sometimes, it seemed to grow more powerful, almost blinding, but this never held long.

"Luke?" her voice was feeble, though she had the feeling to actually be shouting. She touched his shoulder gently and cried for joy when he opened his eyes. The light grew stronger again, blocking everything else from her view for a moment. Everything but this beloved face. His gaze was tired and his voice barely audible when he whispered: "Help me!"

"How?" Mara was practically clutching his shoulder, feeling his life ebb away, and seeing the light retreat once again. There was a fight going on. Her love, her everything, was fighting against something and asked for her help.

Luke didn't answer her, seemingly oblivious to her voice, and instead turned his head, staring towards the place where she knew the glade of twisted, foul alien trees to be. Following his gaze, Mara wasn't able to see anything at first, but then Luke's light retreated anew and once again the dark red wall, the cold mist and the ugly trees surfaced.

Mara looked down at Luke for help, and, seeing his face still turned towards the glade, his lips moving weakly, she lifted her head to find out what was there.

She cried out loud at what she saw and stumbled back, terrified. Her eyes had met another pair of eyes; deep blue eyes situated in a face so delicate and beautiful, she had fallen in love with it the first time she had seen it all these years ago.

Framed by branches and rotten leaves, her husband's face stared at her, a sneer disgracing his handsome features. Only when he stepped out slowly, standing above the prone form of Luke - the other Luke - Mara could see more of him.

And only then did she recognise what was going on, understood what she was dreaming, what the glowing form on the stone table was fighting against.

The Luke that had come out of the trees towered over the lean form, but his eyes were trained on her. Cold as ice, they were filled with hate, disgust and lust to kill. Paralysed, she could do nothing but stare at them.

At the drev-membrane on his forehead, shaped into two delicate signs that were intertwined with each other. At the white coral growths that protruded from his cheekbones, following them for about five centimetres before they vanished. At the vonduun crab armour that was covering his body up to his throat, letting the arms free. At the amphistaff curled around his right biceps.

This was what she had tried to fight all through the past few months. She didn't know how she knew, for everything that Luke had told her had indicated nothing like what she saw in front of her now.

"Liin Kwaad." She whispered. Although it seemed not louder than the falling of a leaf, the figure in front of her smiled, revealing sharpened teeth in a cruel smirk. With a flex of his muscles, the amphistaff slid into his hand and stiffened.

Emotionless blue eyes still fixed on her, he lowered the hissing head of the snake-like animal to Luke's throat - the REAL Luke's throat. The light that glowed from within her husband diminished more and more, while the deadly, poisonous animal closed in to kill its prey.

To kill Luke Skywalker. To make room for Liin Kwaad to take over. The realization hit Mara and in the same moment, she was able to break through her shock-induced paralysis, jumping forward, tackling the Yuuzhan Vong Warrior - because that was what he WAS, no matter how human his face looked- to the ground.

He fought her, ferociously and with great skill, but had not expected anyone to defy him. With horror, some part of Mara's brain realised that he had firmly believed to have Luke Skywalker under control. She wouldn't let him kill her husband.

Dodging a blow of the amphistaff that would have severed her head from her shoulders, she kicked him into the stomach, one time, two times. He staggered, reflexively clutching his hurting mid-section, and Mara used the possibility to administer another kick, higher, against his head.

He was catapulted back, rolling towards the right. Lying still, blood trickled out of his nose. Without thinking, acting just on pure instinct, Mara called Luke's lightsaber to her, feeling its reassuring weight in her hand. Retracing the well-known structures on the hilt, she ignited it, allowing herself a sneer. He would be afraid now. Scared even, just before he died. Just before he would perish and never bother her husband again.

She began her way over to him, slowly, only noticing the tall, lean, black shape when two tattooed, tool-fingered hands grasped Liin's shoulders and tried to drag him back into the glade of gnarled trees.

No. He had to die. Liin Kwaad had to die. She couldn't let him get away.

With a cry of sheer fury, she stormed forward, letting the green energy blade fall down onto the Yuuzhan Vong Warrior. It burned into the yorik coral floor, not meeting any resistance. The stench let Mara gag and she hurried back, staring around wildly, searching.

He was nowhere to see. Nowhere. Mara was panting, fighting tears of fury and failure that stung in her eyes. She almost jumped when evil laughter echoed through the chamber, maniacally evil.

"You won't win this easily, Mara Jade Skywalker. You won't win this easily." She did know this voice. Force, she knew it. And if she had thought that she could not hate anyone more than Elan, she had been wrong. Now, at this very moment, Mara understood that Kwaad had been the one who had held all the strings in her hand. She had wanted Luke. For whatever reason, she had wanted him. And she STILL wanted him.

Sudden realization making her heart stop, Mara whirled around. The stone table was empty.

Not able to keep back her tears any longer, she stumbled forward, shaking her head, feeling as if someone had stabbed right into her heart. "No." she whispered.

"Nooooo!" Mara set up in her bed, sweat drenched.

For a moment, she stared into emptiness, trying to make herself free from the terrifying images that had just assaulted her. Only after half a minute, she was able to see her surroundings.

Coruscant was buzzing with night life, as always, the speeder lights dancing on the curtains they had draped in front of the large panorama windows of their bedroom. But Coruscant was not what Mara was interested in.

Pushing wet, red locks out of her face, she turned, scurrying over to her husband, who lay still deeply sleeping. She couldn't have cried very loud, nor have broadcasted her dream in the Force; otherwise he would have been wide-awake by now.

With unexpected effort, Mara succeeded in calming down her breathing. Her heartbeat slowed and she began to think clearly. This was a warning. An obvious warning. The danger was not over. Liin Kwaad was not gone. Someone - whoever those tattooed hands belonged to - tried to bring him back. Tried to kill Luke.

Mara didn't need any further clues to understand that this Nen Yim wanted it. She was a Shaper. She probably had known Kwaad.

Falling back onto the mattress, Mara closed her eyes. This was not good. In fact, it was terrible. What should she do? She had the nagging feeling that this was not the right time to tell Luke about this dream. It also wasn't the right time to confront him about the amphistaff.

She knew he had it here - here in their apartment. Specifically in his private room. Hidden under the couch. Mara had discovered it fairly quickly when she had searched the room after Luke had fallen asleep.

Something was nagging her husband. She guessed that Luke had suspicions, that he was aware that something was happening, that something was gathering around him. The only reason for not telling her she could think of was that he wanted her to trust him. That he thought he had everything under control.

And Mara did trust Luke. More than anyone else. He would be careful. And if things became too bad, he would tell her. Confide into her. She was sure of that.

She resolved to keep an eye on him, even closer than before, and talk to Miiram about this research. Perhaps talk to Corran and Anakin for real. But she would not let Luke know anything about that and wouldn't let him know that she KNEW about the amphistaff. He should not think she didn't trust him to cope with any problem himself.

Sighing soundlessly, she turned her head, staring at the back of her husband. He was still sleeping soundly. Mara didn't understand how that could be, for she hadn't shielded herself for months around him.

Checking him with the Force, she was soothed by the fact that his thoughts were peaceful. He breathed and his heart beat strongly. He was fine. Snuggling up to him, softly caressing his neck, Mara closed her eyes. "No one will hurt you, my love." She whispered, before she allowed herself to fall asleep again, sure that no new nightmare would assault her. She knew what she had to now. Enough to get active, anyway.

 

Yuuzhan Vong Craft Moota, Same Time

Mezhan Kwaad was smiling broadly. She had already settled in for the night when she had thought she would like to play a little.

At first, she had intended to amuse herself with Skywalker, but then another idea had hit her. Using the link of her little pet with his mate, she had invaded Mara Jade Skywalker's dreams, creating some riddles for her to solve.

She hadn't expected the woman to fight back in her dreams, but that didn't matter to her. Kwaad had effectively scared the human and she was sure this would result in some developments that would make Skywalker even more prone to her little mind sabotage.

She had felt the surprise of the Jeedai woman about her mate's unresponsiveness to her dream, to her shock, her panic. Mezhan was inclined to think that the stupid woman with the sunset-coloured hair would never figure out what had happened to her husband once the Master Shaper was done. All the better.

Mezhan Kwaad closed her eyes. Tomorrow was another day to play. Now she needed rest. Nen Yim was growing restless and nervous. She would have to have an eye on her apprentice. And Skywalker was not dumb - rather the opposite. Playing with him was fun, but not easy. Rewarding, but tiring.

And she knew that to master the days to come, she would need all her powers.

 

Yuuzhan Vong Ship Criarto, Coruscant System, Same Time

"I will go alert my father to all this. He has to see the information we have gathered. I can't wait until you're done here. It could take you hours still."

Khalee Lah had risen from his seat, gathering a couple of tiny, information storage villips in his muscular arms.

His betrothed only nodded, her eyes still hidden by a cognition hood. She was onto something and she wouldn't let go until she knew what she wanted to know. That much Khalee knew. It would be useless to try to persuade her to go to sleep now.

Wordlessly, he left the room and headed to his father's private quarters, ready to face the Warmaster's wrath upon being disturbed that late in the night - or early in the morning - and bring him the bad news.

*~~

Miiram had very well noticed her betrothed leaving, but she didn't pay much attention to it. Accessing the memories of the worldship Doola was unexpectedly difficult and complicated and after two hours of trying in vain, the Supreme Overlord's daughter was sure someone had tampered with it.

Someone skilled at this kind of manipulation. Someone much MORE skilled than any Shaper apprentice of Nen Yim's age could ever be.

Finally she managed break though the block she had encountered, getting information about what Nen Yim had accessed before leaving her first assignment.

The Yuuzhan Vong woman quirked an eyebrow as she realised that it hadn't been Nen Yim who had accessed this information. Someone had succeeded in persuading the brain of Doola to label this unique handprint as the one of Nen Yim and ignore the fact that all previous ones under this name were completely different.

Furrowing her forehead in concentration, Miiram demanded of the Criarto's brain to search for the true identity of the person this handprint belonged to.

The result was shocking her, yet she couldn't really find it surprising. This handprint belonged to no one else than Mezhan Kwaad.

Biting her lower lip - a gesture decidedly un-Yuuzhan Vong which she had adopted from some of the lower grade infidels she had had contact with because she found it fascinating to irritate her father with it - she now ordered the brain to show her what Mezhan Kwaad had accessed.

Small, moveable parts of the cognition hood's inside arrayed themselves in front of her eyes, forming words: "Second Protocol of the Ancient Masters: Slayer's Mind"

More words were formed, perished, and were followed by even more words.

When she was done reading, Miiram took off the recognition hood. If anyone of her race had been there, they would have been surprised about her uncharacteristic paleness. This was worse than worst. Not only for Mara. Not only for the Jeedai Lord. This would affect everyone in this galaxy and especially Khalee's caste.

Copying the information onto one of the tiny storage villips, Miiram headed out of the room, towards her own quarters. She had to order her thoughts and talk to her betrothed.

| To Be Continued |

 

 

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