And now, standing on the edge of his achievement, he realized he had surpassed his instructors. Beyond that, he had completely dominated them. The combination of the Dark Side which flowed within him like some stygian river, and the biogenetic engineering factors he had gained from the Yuuzhan Vong was more than capable of totally overwhelming their Empire.

But this was not the Empire he yearned to dominate.

Smiling a black smile, he raised a gloved hand before his face, then clenched it into a fist as if by that very movement he could encompass entire worlds. Soon, he told himself, all that I seek shall come into Being.

The very thought sparked another interest. That with the aide of his new allies he would indeed swoop in and completely dominate the Galaxy he had no doubt; the thought triggered thus was one rather of preparedness. Who, exactly, would be posing the greatest threat to his ambitions?

He closed his eyes, seeking out with his dark and heightened talents, searching, sensing, questing...

Darth Malice... incognito. The fool never did have much in the way of any power; chances are he has wilted into dust out of sheer inactivity...

Darth Desolist... ahh, a cunning adversary, but equally the fool. To rely so heavily upon his lackey, the Hunter Gravin Dark, and then to allow his own very fortress; nay, the entire moon upon which it was hidden!-- to be destroyed by his own carefully hoarded Khym Magroo device... he posed no challenge to him either.

Darth Atma, dead at the hand of his Jedi father. Darth Wicked... equally a weak failure. Although he did get surprisingly far in his own ambitions, considering that he was but a clone....

Timber Saden... now, there was the adversary.

He grimaced, considering his fist once again. Poking out from holes intentionally slashed into the leather were twin spikes; nay, it was thorns which protruded from each side of his wrist. Smaller ones, planted there by Vong bioengineering, sprung from the back of each hand. He clenched his fist harder, relishing in the sharp pain that coursed up his arm as the thorns' deep roots grated harshly against bone. Wonderful, welcoming pain, keeping him ever aware, ever alert.

Now turning his engineered eyes skyward, he reached out again. Sought with all his considerable strength the signature of Saden... only to crash abruptly against an unexpected wall of sheer black Elseness.

For a very brief moment, he shuddered. This was something new, something he had never felt before. Something therefore to investigate, to incorporate into his being and his future, to take as his own even as he had taken the Yuuzhan Vong. Questing into the Future would prove fruitless; always in motion as it was. Questing into the Current likewise had proven fruitless, leading him to where he now was.

He chose, therefore, to Quest into the mysteries of Time.

Hunching his shoulders, from which larger, vein-crossed thorns grew, he used the more exquisite pain gained from the movement to channel his focus backward. Searched back, away from the Otherness which he somehow knew held Saden, followed a wavering link in the Force to another new sensation: this one merely a glimmering of gray and crimson and incandescent violet. Realized with a sudden snap of his opening eyes, that other equally hazy links emanated from that mysterious essence; links, which he realized further, led him directly to Desolist and Malice, Atma and Wicked. And, of course, Saden.

A Nexus. Someone... or something, who stood center stage regarding the known Sith Lords in the galaxy. He searched back along each link, seeking further enlightenment.

Yet another commonality. All links, and most strongly, the one emanating from this Nexus... all led to a singular place. A mote in the Galaxy, a world as hidden from prying eyes as was the moonlet he now stood upon.

The evil grin which slashed his face into a grimace sprang into being with the simultaneous ignition of his twin j'chi; similar to a Jedi's lightsaber, they were but a third of a normal one's total length. He smiled even more wickedly as he stared into their glacial beams, knowing full well the advantage shorter blades gave a warrior. His eyes reflected back at him in eerie counterpoint: chrome irises, bull's-eyed with electric blue pupils.

Snapping his j'chi closed, he whirled, his black masquer-cape flying about him like Krayt dragon wings, his silver hair, sweeping up from his broad and snow-white forehead, flying about in simultaneous mimickry. "Korr!" he hissed, his rich voice sibilant upon the night air.

A scurrying rustle, and his Yuuzhan Vong assistant and Number One appeared before him. The warrior fell to his knees, his head tilted back to expose his throat to show his utter submission before his Master. The tattooed and scarred Vong spoke not one word, but remained frozen before the Sith Lord. He would remain thus until released by that Lord; only death would make him alter his stance otherwise.

Abaddonis did not let him wait long. Like a stooping hawk, his gloved hand fell upon the shoulder of his Number One, his talons ripping through glove and masquer and deep into the scarred flesh beneath it. There his fingers closed once again into a fist; Korr didn't so much as flinch before the honor of that bestowed pain.

"My esteemed Solven Korr," the Dark Lord hissed. "Long have you stood beside me, never once a hint of treachery in your thoughts or spoken word or mein." Not that you would still be here, had I caught the merest glimmer of this.... Yanking his thoughts from where they had momentarily strayed, he focused his electric pupils on the steadily returned gaze of his second.

"The Time has now come... and I now know the last foe to stand in our way. I would have you prepare my ship, that we might go hence at once, to eliminate this last stumbling block, before we descend upon the pitiful and weak others in a frenzy of death and despair and destruction."

Korr dared to blink in acknowledgement, then remained still as stone. Cruel fingers granted him the boon of sinking even deeper into his flesh. The darkly ominous voice of this unknown Lord of the Sith came into his ears.

"When my ship is prepared, remain aboard her. I would have you come with me."

Now Korr bowed his head in homage, both fists flying up to opposite shoulders. "My Lord," he murmured, then got to his feet as the clenched hand released him to his task. Bowing once more, he turned and left, his freely flowing blood leaving a trail of ichor in his wake.

For a full hour, Abaddonis remained standing in silent scrutiny of the heavens, reading more and more of the planet which stood as another Nexus in the dark links he had followed. A planet which all the Dark Lords of the Sith had at one time or another something to do with... and all likewise linked somehow with the mysterious Nexus he sensed so strongly.

His acute inner clock told him the Time had come. With a purposeful stride he approached his ship of yorik coral, entered, slammed the hatch closed behind him. His war-coordinator waved its tentacles in welcome as he ran his hand over the navigational structures, using the Force to implant into that primitive but exceedingly strong mind the coordinates of the planet he sought.

Without so much as a sound or flash of light, the ship exploded from the ground. It's course was sure and steady. It's destination: Khar Delba.

Which is in fact what occurs when one is in inter-galactic hyperdrive.

Which, in all cases ever reported, resulted in the absolute and irreversible insanity of the observer.

Abaddonis stood like some grim basalt statue before the forward view-villip, contemplating that impossible image and welcoming the borderline madness trembling at the corners of his mind. That he had been standing thus for some time, beckoning the repeated encroachment of the view-triggered dementia over and over in what basically amounted to a lesson in self-control, was quite apparent by the pile of feebly writhing and dying villips laying nearby. The poor creatures didn't have a chance; he was currently gazing with nearly superhuman intensity upon his sixth one. Even as he watched, the creature let out a strange, sub-sonic sort of yawp, and inverted into itself, blackening as it too retreated into that madness which preceded death.

The biogenetically enhanced Lord of the Sith merely sighed in disapproval.

How amusing to think these soft creatures had this Galaxy quite on the run at not so great a time in the past, he thought to himself. Their life revolves about Life; how easily it could have been squelched.

But then, the very consideration explains the fact. He sniffed, letting the thought travel to its obvious conclusion. Foolish and soft jedi, to so revere that very Life which so nearly succeeded in destroying them altogether. Life which yearned to reach out and spread itself without the Galaxy, to grow in heady and explosively dark joy as in that growth it destroyed all it came in contact with.

Indeed, the Jedi had finally found the means to stop the Vong in their first inroads upon the Galaxy.

But the Vong hadn't a Sith Lord in their midst at the time.

Smiling a cruel smile to no one in particular, the Dark Lord of the Sith now let his uncanny eyes fall closed, as once more he reached forth his dark talents to investigate further that place toward which they were hastening. That single endpoint... standing as a Gateway to usher in a new and unexpected destiny for the entire Galaxy and all those who inhabited it. His own mental prowess nothing to sneeze at, he reached out, seeking, searching, following the Link he had so quietly established, and then ever so much more quietly masked... reaching...

Until he once more found it. The Nexus. That somehow shadowy impression of smoke and fire and incandescent light.

He cocked his head a bit to the side, concentrating, seeking with all his strength to break through the strange barrier this... this, whatever it was, this... Being kept so effortlessly wrapped about itself. With all his Dark Strength, with all his bioengineered advancements, he simply could not penetrate that shield. It remained steadfast before him, taunting him, and sending that deeply buried yet so exquisitely pinpointed essence of his very being into silent squalls of fury and outrage.

Without even feeling it, he clenched one muscular hand tightly, his razor-edged talons ripping once again through fabric but this time into the flesh of his own hand as he strained to break through the near insolence of that unknown barrier. Beads of sweat sprang out upon his icy brow, seeming to stand out there as frozen crystals in mute testimony of his efforts.

Solven Korr came quietly up, hesitating, and then took a submissive stance behind and to the left of the Lord. There he froze, waiting for the expected, slashing blow he knew he would soon have the honor of taking when Abaddonis erupted, transforming silent endeavor into sadistic action.

A strong hand loosened its grip, blooded talons revealing themselves as they slid out from his flesh...

Corded muscles contracted, root and implanted coral raking and scraping against bone, twisting and pinching nerves, sending electric impulses shrieking through the Dark Lords physical being in preparation of abrupt and overwhelming movement...

Solven Korr forced himself to remain rock-steady yet loose, tipping his head slightly to one side should his Lord wish to slash his throat and give him the honor of ending his life in one violent act of rage...

The motion never came. Instead, the Dark Lord let out a hiss which was part astonishment, part delight, and part pure evil as his mental efforts finally rewarded him with a small crumb of information.

Beside the Nexus, a small and struggling bud of yet another one magically appeared. It wavered there, gaining strength from its parent as it strove in turn to grow and seek independence of its own.

Abaddonis' eerie eyes darkened to tarnished silver. TWO of them now?

Then his cruel smile returned. So be it. All the more to satisfy my hungers....

Closing his eyes, the Dark Lord of the Sith now took up his former stance, indicating an underling hasten to replace the now-dead villip, and slashing that underling into the Darker Realms for the simple fact that he had to be reminded to do so. Cocking his head a bit, he opened his eyes, and once more directed his electric gaze into the delirium which yet ravened without the ship.

Soon, he thought to himself. Soon.

Behind him the Vong stood in silent submission, quietly awaiting the blow which never came.

Abaddonis now averted his gaze from the view-villip, and considered his bloody talon. He cast his gaze deeply into the shimmering depths of the blood, seeking to see that which he knew the life-essence in that blood could reveal to him.

Yet one manner more in which the pitiful jedi--he spat the word--would never be able to use the Force. How absolutely insipid of them.

His perusal of the blood was suddenly interrupted as something originating millions of lightyears from him slammed into him, alerting him. His hand dropped to his side, and his head jerked back up. Then his electric eyes slitted in concentration as he sent himself back out along the pathway opened by that mysterious force.

He slammed headlong once again upon that annoyingly enigmatic Nexus. However, as with the last time he had probed it's outlines, he was again rewarded with a bit of information. Not only had that crumb remained... the Nexus itself had strengthened somehow. It was as if what made it what it was had been somehow... joined by another.

Something was drawing itself together. Something was going to happen.

Sharpened fangs were exposed in a cruel smile as Abaddonis nodded to himself. Indeed, is something due to occur, he snarled, snapping his fingers in command. Behind him Korr hauled himself obediently to his feet. Though every nerve within his throat had to be screaming in exquisite pain, though blood was running freely down his throat, congealing somewhere in the vicinity of his thighs, he didn't say a word. He merely waited in silence, the willing vessel for whatever wrath or desire the Dark Lord wished to pour into it.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Increase velocity," Dark Lord Abaddonis snarled in a lethal whisper. Never once turning to face his cowering Second, he continued to stare out the viewscreen.

Somewhere out there, a particular destiny of his own awaited. And he meant to claim it.

Out of this everywhere a laughing demon uncoiled himself with his precious prey. The place he had chosen to go was a good one from a demon's point of view, for what better place seek brotherhood than with evil itself?

There were shadows a-plenty aboard the Yuuzhan Vong ship for a prize bearing imp to materialise from. Maladius unfurled himself from lengthening shadows, making himself an even darker one aboard the menacing ship, and approached the grim and silent form of the Leader.

The man before him didn't even bother to turn around and aknowlege his presence but Maladius knew he held his full attention. Though the ship was abuzz with activity all seemed to hold its breath at the audacity of his unexpected appearance. The demon managed to contain himself as he crowched, skuttling forward sideways like a crab holding his head low so as to show respect to the Shadow of Death he sought favor from.

At last he could go no further but stopped and held the body of the bleeding girl out before him his claws still sinking their full length into her body to hold her quiet. He bobbed and lowered his head, moaning and gibbering and drooling and slavering behind the back of the Man in front of him.

At length that Man turned around and pinned piercing chrome eyes on the slavering demon. He didn't say a word but stood there and nodded his head to him just once. Maladius didn't have to be told again; cackling and drooling he held Thea out to Abaddonis and gibbered, "I seek asylum with those to whom I am kin. And to that favor I bring the first of the dowry offerred."

It was all he could do to keep from ripping great gouts of flesh from Thea's body as he hunkered and waited for Abaddonis to reply.

At length Abaddonis released his grip, and straightened. His mobile lips curled in a cruel smile, and one finger raised. Korr was instantly beside him, his body still wet with his own blood.

“There is latency in this one that can be used,” Abaddonis said in a deathly whisper. “Perhaps its uncovering will provide a modicum of amusement until our destination is reached.

“Take her to my quarters.”

He then dismissed his second, who bowed, retrieved the girl, and disappeared from the bridge with her. Abaddonis turned his attention back to the apparently abject Maladius, but he wasn’t fooled for an instant. He could sense the pure evil within the demon as clearly as he sensed the Force latency inherent in little Thea.

He cocked his head to one side, his lips pursing as he stared down at Maladius. Then they parted as he laughed.

“You too have shown yourself to be of use to us, my little friend.” He paused, then reached out a hand to grant the imp the honor of his touch. Maladius returned the favor by remaining solid, but he couldn’t keep a wet series of gibbering cackles from escaping his lips. He trembled hotly as the Dark Lord’s claws scraped his flesh.

Abaddonis leaned forward slightly, and then as if there was absolutely nothing untoward at all about child-bearing demons popping into his reality seemingly from thin air, he gave Maladius the first of what might prove to be many orders to come.

“My eyes and ears you shall be, until I am with them,” he hissed. “Begone now.”

Straightening his stance, he turned to the forward view-villip, once more losing himself to the ravages of intergalactic hyperspace. There was no question that the demonic being would dare balk at his command; of that the Dark Lord was as assured as he was his destiny. And that was the utter demolition of whatever civilization he chose to conquer.

Warped by manipulated time and space, he continued taking that one step he had begun aboard the ship he trailed Galen and Terrin in. His leg moved forward, slooooow, sloooooow, one prolonged and agonizing step while mysteries unimaginable to the mind of men swirled in a cloud of death around him.

At last his foot met solid ground and he stepped out, crowching immediately, his hightened senses aware of a very great and very near danger. It only took a second for him to ignite his lightsaber, and in that second he recognized who the foe was.

BUT WHERE IN THE NAME OF THE GALAXY WAS HE?

The evil being in front of him didn't even seem surprised as he popped out of nowhere aboard the menacing Vong ship. He acted like this sort of thing happened to him every day. Master Rean felt himself regarded with cold chrome eyes that stared at him without any emotion, it was almost as if this being didn't even care or feel the least bit threatened by him.

He crowched even more, and brought his lightsaber up in front of him ready to defend. His keen jedi sense told him that he could find the frightened soul if he could only get through this evil personage, who was only now beginning to smile. Something told Master Rean that he would have to draw on all his knowledge of the all if he was going to defeat this one, oh how keenly he felt the absence of the Claw. Fighting down debilatating fear, he waited.

It wasn't that he took him lightly, this enemy who appeared from nowhere in a cloud of blocked imagery. It was because he took him with every ounce of seriousness that he possessed that the Dark Lord of the Sith was now applauding himself of his soon-to-be victory. He was very much aware of the innate power this lightsabered jedi bore, as well as the disturbing blockage in the Force his obvious presence presented to him. It was somehow reminiscent of that inexplicable Nexus he had reached out to slam unexpectedly into; strange that this one so obligingly now came before him.

Without letting an iota of his maneuvering become apparent, Abaddonis let a swift tendril of his unwholesome abilities stretch forth into the void once again. Once again, they met with that mysterious Non-ness. His eyes slit in further satisfaction at the discovery: so, this one before him wasn't the source of what he had originally felt. It mattered not; he would serve as practice in its eradication.

Now he straightened to his full height, shrugging his masquer cloak back from his shoulders, revealing to the widening eyes of the jedi the sharp thorns extruding from his shoulders. His black-gloved hands moved like lightning; twin hisses broke the spellbound silence aboard the yorik coral ship as his j'chi burst into energetic life.

...but strength he couldn't tap into fully, not without the Claw. That device was necessary to use the powers of the all to kill, without it he had to rely solely on his lightsaber as would any jedi. He could use the all to travel the immensity of space and to carry back the unknown being whose cries had drawn him here but he couldn't bring them to bear against the powerful and Dark Lord of the Sith.

Rean took a short step backwards yeilding to the power of Abaddonis's pressing attack. Then another. Even as he did so he wondered why the Vong Lord wasn't doing anything else besides pressing him back, so far all he was doing was continuing to hold pressure against his own lightsaber. If he moved his blade the two short ones would slice cleanly in to decapatate him, he moved back yet another step trying not to think about it.

Then his thoughts flashed in another direction, and all he could see was another flash, that of hair the color of sunset reflecting in big brown eyes. He saw her as he had last seen her, and his soul cried out in anguish. Galen, if I don't succeed here, I have failed you, he thought to himself and somehow managed to stop moving backward and hold his ground. He struggled to open a door through the all to bring this one back with him, and even as he felt space and time begin its familiar warping he knew something had gone terribly terribly wrong.

She would never know exactly how much she meant to him....

Shuddering and drooling as yet again his claw dematerialized and took form he was suddenly alerted to something occuring back with his newfound Master and friend. He was busy engaging in bringing more lovely pain to another someone, but someone who was not a very willing subject about it all. Such a shame, that this one wasn't aware of the exquisite pleasure this could bring, such a shame that his new friend was having such difficulty with it all. He would go help his new friend initiate the unwilling person into the Rite of Pain, just to help show the new Dark Lord that he would be faithful to him through whatever might come.

No drop of light in that one, he thought to himself with a malicious giggle. I love him.

Oh look, how obliging. The silly one has already opened the door. All the easier for me to show my worth.

Another drooling giggle escaped his slobbering lips as he cast one swift glance behind himself and took aim. Then he lanced his sharply pointed tail out behind himself, bursting into masochistic laughter at the nearly intolerable pain of it being stretched across lightyears to slam with finality into something firm and moist and yielding.

That was all it took, just that moment of distraction.

His last thought was of Galen's name.

His last feeling was incredible sorrow.

His last impression was that of a flash of light, followed by a confusing series of topsy-turvy views of the Yuuzhan Vong ship which ended with the sight of the tip of a black boot awash with the thick ruby richness of his own blood, a sight which then gradually faded away into a blackness no light would ever be able to pierce again.

The Dark Lord of the Sith had been granted an assisting hand. How would he take it?

Every Vong aboard busied himself at his post, managing to maintain the almost surreal silence that had suddenly blanketed the ship, allowing each one to keep an ear cocked if their Lord would desire to vent his rage in another direction. For the subject of that possible rage had disappeared into the thin air from which he had first manifested himself, and the second unexpected invader was dead.

Abaddonis nudged his cold boot against Rean's even colder head, cocking his own to one side as he studied the death splayed out at his feet. A swelling rage indeed had begun to grow in his black heart with the realization that, though he truly felt he would have been victorious on his own device against this one, now he would never really know.

He nudged the head a touch harder, then gave it a vicious kick.

He turned about-face in a whirl of masquer cloak and blazing eyes.

"Feed this one to the Yammosk!" he hissed as he strode from the bridge, his entire being filled with a deeply seated need to find another vessel to fill with his wrath. Yet there existed even deeper within his soul a little speck of approving laughter.

How kin reaches out to kin; that one is kin of my heart. A boon to us it is indeed that he came to me this day.

Then he eradicated the tiny speck completely and continued on, brushing savagely against Sylvan Korr who was hurriedly approaching from the direction he himself was now heading. He honored his second by pausing briefly to stab his claws into his shoulder, staring deeply into his eyes as he hauled the Vong back into balance, reading in their depths the story of initiation begun.

His claws met themselves in Korr's shoulder, then they slid wetly out and he moved on toward his quarters. Thoughts of further initiation filled his black mind, and he licked on his own bloodied fingers in anticipatory delight.

A thin string of drool began to escape his lips at the mere thought of what lay ahead, and it was only by dint of conscious effort he managed to prevent it from wetting the hair of the child held tightly in his arms. He rocked the little infant, cackling again, and managed to squeak out a few high-pitched notes in a terrible parody of a lullabye.

The little being in his arms was clearly not amused. Something flared out from her, and Maladius almost dropped her as it struck him squarely between his bloody eyes. He slitted them, and stared balefully down at the baby.

If it weren't for his destination....

That thought was interrupted before it could scarcely form by the arrival of that destination. The embodiment of evil uncoiled himself once again from the otherness of the All, and once more found himself aboard the Yuuzhan Vong ship. He glance around, looking for the One, the Leader, the one who called himself Abaddonis.

That one was nowhere to be found, but the one he recognized as subordinate to him was fast approaching. Maladius first thought was to strike out and slash this one; gibbering with effort, he managed to hold himself in check until the Vong came to a solid halt in front of him.

Maladius held out the child of the Chosen One and He who had once been his Lord.

"This second gift is offerred!" he announced in a crescendo of snarls and insane giggles. Then handing the child over to Sylvan Korr, he disappeared back into the blackness of the nonreality of his birth.

What she could sense with utter clarity, however, were feelings. Primal, primitive feelings. Feelings some have come to suspect are actually inherited in the genetic makeup of life, and passed with innate understanding and reaction from one generation to the next.

Feelings that, completely unbeknownst and utterly unimaginable to anyone beyond her unique little view, quietly told her in a way she understood without seeing that things were happening to her.

She felt the onrush of something akin to deep-seated joy at the moment of her birth. She felt something akin to puzzlement and frustration at the recognition of the fact that those around her were somehow not linked with her truly, somehow not of her yet somehow exactly the opposite. She felt something akin to puzzlement as this oxymoron swept through her in the seconds following her birth... then coalesced into recognition of something twin to a deep part of her own self taking her and moving her off into an introduction to yet another new universe.

She felt a strange unity with the one taking her now... taking her from something who had annoyed her by interrupting her primitive scrutiny into herself... taking her now in a flurry of muzzy images of light and dark to another, who likewise took hold of her and held her quiet.

Again a disturbing feeling of belonging/not belonging washed over the infant's unexpected and unseen perceptions. Those around her could not even begin to guess at the depth of those feelings, nor how lucidly they were being understood by the little newborn. Suddenly the wash of feelings seemed to pause, as though waiting.

She waited with it, and having nothing better at the moment to do, opened her mouth and began to cry.

Very great use indeed... for in a manner twinned to that of the mysterious Nexus, even though he held this infant, could feel the heat in the little body, see her perfect and red-headed little body... he couldn't sense her through the Force one iota.

It was as though he held The Void in his grasp.

That remarkable discovery provoked a black smile to curl upon his lips, and he graced Sylvan Korr with a rare moment of leniency. Rather than perpetrate further atrocities upon his Second for his audacity in interrupting him at the very doorway to his own quarters, there to hand the little bundle of Non-ness to him, he chose instead to allow him to live.

"You may go, Korr," he snarled in an evil whisper, never taking his intense gaze off of the crying babe in his hands.

Behind him on his knees, his Second didn't have to be told twice. His fisted hands flashed to both shoulders in a salute of respect and devotion as he rose smoothly to his feet. Then before Abaddonis could changed his mind, Sylvan Korr whirled in a crisp about-face and hurried back to the bridge, there to maintain rigid order and efficiency in the momentary absence of their Lord.

Abaddonis now took one step further, the movement triggering the muscular contractions of that which controlled his door. It slid greasily open, allowing him entrance into his private and opulent suite. He paused momentarily, sweeping the rooms with his electric gaze until they found what he was looking for. Not one drop of emotion or hint at what was to come escaped him as he descended like some dark angel of death upon the cowering form of Thea.

Coming to a halt in front of her, he paused and devoured her with his eyes. Then he thrust the baby into her arms.

"Maintain this one, human!" he snarled blackly as he reared back to his full and formidable height. "Keep her alive and well, see to her needs and growth. There is some time yet to pass before your Galaxy is met; for your own well-being, I suggest you see to it that this one is whole and well when that event occurs."

Now however, the time had come to open her eyes. Shadows swam blearily out of focus about her, but her keen senses still managed somehow to put meaning to them. The wave-emitting thing who held her was still silent; those mysterious forces that govern the actions of all things lay quiescent, and into this calm pool there now came a ripple.

She was hungry.

Now she could afford to turn her attention to the other sensations bombarding her tiny body.

The first thing to strike her awareness was that yet more strange shock waves were impacting her hearing. They were not at all pleasant to her; pursing her lips a bit she squirmed one way and another in the arms of the being who was sending them out into her ears. The noises only continued, their pattern broken only momentarily as something touched her lightly on her forehead. Though Sha'Rhylla was a bit uncertain as to what exactly had made that touch, the feeling behind it was all too clear. It washed over her like a tidal wave, engulfing her with warmth and a growing feeling of something akin to care and pity.

Intolerable.

Something flared out from her in pure annoyance, and similar to her reaction to the lullabye-crooning Maladius struck little Thea squarely between the eyes. Accompanying that wave of pure rejection came Rhylla's first unconscious attempt at integrating the feeling/thought barrier that existed deep within her limbic system. Of course she had no command of language as yet, but the projected sense was universal:

Abaddonis utterly ignored Thea's ignominious slam; he only had eyes for the infant. That little being, freed from the arms of the little girl, plopped quietly to the carpets and continued to roll a bit until it fetched up against the leg of a nearby chair. It ended up on its back, its little arms held upright and flailing in surprise, its little legs kicking to find themselves freed so suddenly from the bonds that had been upon them.

She didn't utter so much as a whimper. In fact, she cooed with delight.

The Dark Lord now turned his chrome gaze to the jedi padawan, a little girl in whom he sensed enough latent power to make her useful to him and his designs. He then pinned the warbling ShaRhylla with a gaze even more intense, his head cocking to one side as his mind flashed the information revealed by his own eyes into sudden understanding. In but a few great strides he was before the little babe; bending down he picked her up and held her to him, the motion an apparent oxymoron to those unwise enough to witness it.

The only observer was little Thea, who only pressed herself harder against the floor.

One black-gloved and thorned hand now removed itself from its hold on ShaRhylla, and fingers snapped. The Dark Lord didn't have to turn around to know his second was there; he let a few seconds pass before he broke the silence with but a few well-chosen words.

"This one is a far greater gift than that imp perhaps realizes," he said in a deathly whisper. His words grated like nails against slate in the ears of the little Thea. "Thus it needs development beyond even the capabilities of my warship."

Abaddonis whirled to face Korr, who promptly fell to his knees, his head flung back in submission. The Dark Lord ignored this, and began pacing about the room, still holding the baby in his arms. At length he drew up before the little ball Thea was presenting of herself and came to a halt. His electric gaze raked her small form somewhat thoughtfully; once again his masquer cloak whirled like the wings of some dark angel as he turned back to his second.

"Prepare a deep-space pod, Korr." The words were even more of a command for the quiet threat inherent in their whispered vocalization. "Assign a protective squad Top Priority to it. Their task is to take these two back to our world, while we continue on in our reconnaissance."

He now held the kicking ShaRhylla out to his obedient second. "This one, I sense, is too important to risk even being aboard this ship. Once we finish with our scouting mission, we shall return home and place all our emphasis in the development of this infant. I feel the abilities within her will more than assure our command of this Galaxy; there will be no possiblity for the jedi to thwart us again."

Sensing a terminus in the words spoken by his Captain and his Master, Korr dared to bow his head in acknowledgment. Accepting the infant from Abaddonis, he rose quickly to his feet and approached Thea. His great clawed hand reached down and none-too gently took hold of her own; in one swift jerk he hauled her to her feet. Then giving Abaddonis another bow of his head, he backed out of the chambers, taking the human girl and halfling along with him.

Abaddonis merely closed his eyes and waited. The marvelous efficiency of his second revealed itself in the fact that this wait was not a long one. He grunted in satisfaction to feel his warship drop out of hyperdrive for a brief moment; a slight reactive motion in the opposite direction, one only his keen Force senses could pick up, told him of the successful dispatch of the pod. Bare seconds after that short hiatus, his ship slid smoothly back into hyperdrive once more, carrying them onward toward the Galaxy which had birthed the two now being taken further and further away from it.

...and closing with the finality of death.

Slowly, the movement the most painful thing Graysith had ever managed to suffer in her life, her violet eyes opened. Blinked, striving to bring fuzzy forms into focus. Her eyes remained obstinate; she blinked again, this motion now sending clarifying tears to moisten the dry cornea, and the images sharpened just a bit.

She swallowed, her throat as dry as her eyes. About her, hazy shadows moved about in mystery, doing things, moving here and there as though she didn't even exist. As if she wasn't even there, and they were but ghosts flitting silently across the screen of her mind.

Or, as though her presence was beneath their interest entirely.

Clenching her jaws, she tightened her lids, willing her focus to return to normal, to tell her where she was even as her recalcitrant memory began rearing its head to inform her of the how....

Now her eyes slapped open in terror. Instinctively she tried to rise to her feet, to leap up in a fight or flight reaction, reaching out to grasp the All like she would grasp a lover, to take stock of her situation and rectify it....

And froze in utter shock.

Some of the commands given to achieve the above were instantly obeyed, and more: A great slicing pain sheared into her, originating in her side, sending great blasts like the white-hot touch of steel searing through her every cell, and she gasped, nearly overcome. Her body froze, but her vision cleared, and the shadowy images sharpened into a scene straight from hell.

About her, scarred and torn and tattooed... creatures, there was simply no other word for them in her vocabulary ...moved about in a militaristic precision and expediency of form. Her surroundings were totally, completely and utterly alien, and looked somehow... moist... somehow... ALIVE.

And Khaandon come forward now and give her strength; she could not reach out to touch the blessed comfort of the All.

Her hand flew up in sheer disbelief... only to find the Glyph on her forehead as still and cold as black ice.

She shuddered, not understanding, shrinking into herself as the sounds of booted footsteps now pressed into her awareness....

The only sound to break the hellish silence was a steady clicking as the fingers of one hand idly clicked its claws with the thumb, as if deciding just which claw he would choose to place where.

He let the electric blue of his pupils envelope her, boring into her soul, taking all of her into his own being, at last being able to view that which up until only moments ago he could not. A slow sneer curled across his sensuous lips as that realization struck home yet again.

There she lay. The Nexus. The One who by remaining opaque to his talents had triggered his anger from afar. The Daughter his ally had claimed was so powerful, as was he, she now lay at his feet like...

...like a mere mortal in fear of her life.

For a moment more he considered her; then, impossibly, his eyes darkened further and in one swooping motion he reached down and grasped her about her throat. His eyes moved from hers only long enough to take in the gaping wound on her side; while far from healed, he could sense that the poisons had been removed from her system.

He brought up her face inches from his own.

"So-ooo-ooo..." he purred silkily. "Here is the Chosen Daughter, laid before me as dowry before a King."

Now he burst into an evil laugh to see the combination of righteous anger and utter fear which warred in her violet eyes. Then he quieted, throwing her to the deck of his ship like unwanted garbage.

"I have no need for one as weak as you!" he snarled, taking a step forward to lean down a bit and actually spit upon her. He glanced quickly at the wound again before continuing with, "You live now, but not by my personal choice...

"Whelp."

Now he drew himself upright, his eyes still boring tunnels into her soul. She fought back, but finally yielded to that look he pressed her with, visibly shuddering and turning her head so her hair hid her face.

Abaddonis smiled cruelly, taking yet another step backward and snapping his fingers.

"Korr, see to the removal of this one!" he commanded in a tone that would not be denied.

The Beast roared again, and Graysith turned her head away from Abaddonis so he would not see her anger. Well she knew he was sensing it though, for in a sudden outrage of his own he suddenly turned from her to command the approach of another.

Graysith pulled her inner vision outward, finally understanding why she could not reach the All... as well as all too clearly understanding who had done this to her. Logic flashed through her head as at the speed of thought she scrutinized the motes of information this dark being had dripped upon her... as well as the even more subtle ones gleaned from further inspection of herself.

"Here is the Chosen Daughter... ...you live now, but not by my personal choice..." ...and perplexingly enough, the poisons of the Demon had been cleansed from her so she would heal....

Dark Lord Roan had masterminded this, there could be no other. Yet for some reason he appeared to want her alive.

A horrifying conclusion blasted into existence, confirmed by the sudden frisson which rippled up and down her spine, as well as the momentarily silencing of the Beast.

If the Dark Lord still loved her, he would not have treated her in the manner in which he did. He quite easily could have taken her directly to him; his ego was monumental enough in that she was certain he would thus harbor the thought that he could sway her to his side once again.

Placing her here in the midst of this new threat only proved he wished her for... something else.

Now her jaw clenched as once again she fought down the new burst of righteous anger flaring from the suddenly snarling Beast within. One fist clenched, trembling with the effort to retain a modicum of calm, and her teeth gritted together with such intensity she nearly broke one.

Her hair flipped about her shoulders as she whirled her head about, attempting to rise to look this man directly in his ungodly eyes. The wound in her side flashed an incandescence through her that almost knocked her into blackness; suppressing a groan and now focusing with all her strength, she pressed those fires to the back of her mind and finally made it to her feet.

She stood defenseless before him... yet somehow not. Her violet eyes bored with borderline impertinence into his chrome ones.

"You cannot bring harm to me, and neither can He," she whispered, her voice satin-gloved steel. "For those he has taken me from shall not fall into this trap he has now laid."

She drew herself up further, her eyes now lighting with new assurety and something akin to the calmness of a Jedi Master. She knew she had struck a particular chord when she saw... something... recoiling in Abaddonis's eyes.

Her own eyes then flashed in a brilliant victory of her own. Then Sylvan Korr's iron-fisted grip fell upon her shoulder, and she was taken away to await being brought before her...

Dark Heart.

But not at her surroundings, nor because of He who had placed her there.

More mysteries abound in the Universe than ever the philosopher dreamt of, and it was toward the greatest mystery of all she now sought to travel... even while she literally shook with terror of the unknown.

Mortal she might once more be, deprived of that wonder she had been given, and her mortality most certainly was misleading her captors into viewing her as helpless. On an instinctive level, however, she knew she truly was not.

For a moment she allowed her mind to flash back to all she had known and loved. Images arose before her inner eye, tumbling one after another in mute testimony of her life. A beautiful and always laughing mother taken from her at far too young an age... a gray-haired man, taking her out to introduce her to the wonders of the Universe... an impish and outspoken sister, with whom she used to wrestle and fight and always loved, never quit loving... a powerful Strength of turquoise eye and raven's-wing hair, wrapped in rich robes and utter confidence in himself...

...a new sister with eyes the color of a tropical sea... a bounding beast, always faithful, stalwart, never leaving her no matter the consequence... a tiny babe, no... two of them, cousins destined to greater accomplishments than anyone ever could truly know...

...a new and quiet being, eyes of fire, skin the color of blood, and soul the color of life itself....

She shivered yet again, yet somehow strengthening from these images. No harm would come to them on her account.

NO HARM.

There is in existence another mystery no sentient has ever come to fully understand: why a well-fed animal, taken from the wild, quietly lays down and dies. Why a healthy soul, deprived of the love of his or her life, suddenly comes to an end of life by no apparent cause. A mystery beyond the understanding of the Force... and one by which no force or command of any other is needed to reach out and grasp.

Hate is what fuels a great deal of life, that the Chosen Daughter understood all too well. But it was love that truly could give surcease from the allies of hate.

Nothing but love... of others, and of life itself.

"No harm shall come to those I love," she whispered quietly into the menacing dark. "He shall not make use of me again."

A single tear slipped down from her closing lid, trailing down the suddenly icy planes of her face as she bid her farewells to all she had known...

...and to herself.

Then she quietly lay back and proceeded to begin willing herself to die.

Graysith had been here blocked from the All. Wouldn't do to suddenly have something new, in the Force or the All, pop up aboard ship.

Precautions should be taken.

Shayla shuddered a bit in the damp cold, and crouched, drawing her purple cloak about herself to keep some warmth in.

So this is where he'd taken Her. This is where he had left Her?!

Shayla's look darkened at that, and she clenched her teeth in anger.

HOW DARE HE!!!

After not just a bit of concentration, Shayla was able to push the rising anger at bay, calmly analyzing her environment and taking in every last detail, every last feature. Then, her greeny-blue eyes still assessing in the dimness of her prison, Shayla simply sat back and wrapped her cloak more tightly to herself, making sure her All-shield was in place. In thus a manner she would wait for whatever lay ahead.

She was ready--at least, as ready as she could be. But she also was certain she wouldn't be stranded here when rescue was possible...

Hey, no use sitting around looking like Shayla Petrolu when she could do better than that! She just needed one of those Vong things...

Ooglith masquers. Very nice disguises. Very painful to put on, however.

But it'd work, just in case someone peeked in on her...

Pulling her cloak from her body, Shayla reached out with the All and tweaked the atoms of it. The fabric seemed to literally come alive in her hands, now something completely different.

Shayla frowned in disgust at that, finding just one more reason to hate these beings that would plot to harm the Chosen Daughter of the Sith--and her Sister. Didn't they at least have the respect to know just what they were dealing with? Did they truly believe Graysith was pinned in place? That there was no way she could be retrieved?

Clearly they had underestimated what they were attacking...but Shayla wouldn't underestimate them. The fact that someone had been able to imprison Graysith at all and drive her to the point where she believed her death was the best option was evidence of the power behind all of this. And the confidence in which the whole act had been executed served as mute testimony that Lord Roan was behind it; no one else would dare, let alone succeed in such attempt.

Which also served as evidence of the power of Roan's ally. There was no way--no way!--Shayla could believe that Roan would let Graysith out of his sight unless he completely trusted in his ally's ability to hold her.

And after all, whomever he was, he obviously had the admiration of the Yuuzhan Vong. He had to be powerful to accomplish this.

Shayla couldn't help but shudder at the implications of that. All things considered, Shayla still believed that the Sith had been underestimated. Yet also keeping in mind just how powerful Roan and his allies were...

...had this all been too easy, even considering the difficulties they had encountered in retrieving Graysith?

Shayla frowned at that, reminding herself it wasn't over yet and hoping to goodness that her rescue would occur in short order. Considering the reaction Graysith had to all of this, Shayla knew she certainly didn't want to be the next to meet the power of Roan's ally head on...

...by Him.

But she'd been to this place of complete sorrow before. She'd lost her parents. She had wanted to die right along with them, and had almost literally done just that in her soul. She had to fight this...

Still fighting against the terror, against the burden of what seemed like the weight of the Universe on her shoulders, Shayla could only reply one word to this being's question. Sought deep inside herself for that kernel of affection which she held for Graysith, a feeling which even the rising despair could not completely drown...

...After all that Graysith had done for her. The risk she had taken to protect her from Roan before...

"...no..." Shayla whispered, struggling. But not without conviction.

She would die before she would reveal her Sister's whereabouts...

...she would die...

a slight growl escaped from beneatht he hood, soon the room was filled with the sound of a thousand voices, all speaking at the same time, the sound solid, yet broken at the same time, coming out as a hiss, yet entaris knew that shayla could make out almost every word, and could feel every intention.

...for her.

Shayla fell to her knees, trembling, suddenly unable to even move under the heavy blanket of despair which had been laid upon her. Even the air was beginning to become difficult to breath so weighted down with terror it was.

"No..." she whispered again, inexplicable pain beginning to wrack her body. "No..."

With that she simply closed her eyes, trying to block out the soul-encompassing pain and despair and utter terror filling her. Then, as if she could be heard by someone out there somewhere, Shayla thought two words out into the soul-less and uncaring void...

Graysith...

...Aelvedaar...

his eyes them flared wickedly, glowing fiercly as if being fualed by some inner fire.

"Very well, utter your denial all you wish...I tried to do this painlessly" the final word was clearly a mockery of what others would consider its meaning.
his eyes flared once again. "now you get to feel pain, and dispare, like nothing you have ever known..."

Glaring deeply into shayla's eyes, the red fires seemed to trace there way into shayla's blue-green pair, and suddenly, before she could look away, there minds became locked together, his thoughts were flooding into shaylas, the millions of voices that entaris possessed within him, now flooded shayla's mind, lettign her feel the true sorce of power for the beign that stood before her.

Maybe it was her for all she knew...

Fight it though she might try, Shayla simply didn't have the abilities to escape the horrible feeling now overtaking her. As if to mock her, Shayla almost nearly felt that which would explain Graysith's absence and her presence come to the forefront of her mind, as though the thing had found it...

wicked laughter filled the room, and he mentaly sent what he had learned to Roan.

-This one has switched places with graysith-

Entaris then raised a gloved hand, grasping shaylas neck with strength that seemed unatural for a being of his size, but the very touch of his leather glove seemed to be both firm, and lacking of anything within the glove at the same time.

He lifed her slowly to her feet, and then raised her off of them, his laughter continuing.

"seeee" he hissed "That wasnt so hard to do...Was it?" his voice seemed to mock her very being, so filled with crualty that it seemed as if he was not only mocking shayla, but aslo mocking the very univers that had held her existance, as if it to was foolish for resisting him, in some unknown way.

slowly the glove tightined around shayla's neck, giving her the sence that she was goign to die...a painful and horrid death. but suddenly, the glvoe stopped, and droped her to the floor, and entaris staggered backwards slowly.NO! You musnt kill her
a single voice screamed at him, speaking lowder now then the combined force of all the beings within him.
YES! you must destroy her!
the rest seemed to scream, though they were much quieter, and held no baring on him at all.
NO! leave her...but first...implant yourself within her mind, just a small fragment...small enough not to be noticed by anyone...let it remind her of this fear...let it remain dorment, untill she dare lose her temper...then it shall drop her to this state...is not her missery at the thought of your power better then her death?
the thoughts wafted through, and soon all thoughts within him were in agreement, something that did not happen very often.

Entaris then reached down, and touched a gloved hand against shayla's forhead, a small tendril of his being slipping through her, and implanting itself deep within her subconcious.

"careful now...Shayla-" he said the name, as if once again mocking the fact that he had been within her mind. "- dont lose your temper...or you will be sorry."

Entaris then stepped back, and fadded into the shadows, and as he did so, the memories of his visit vanished from her, as if being coiled into a small ball in her subconcious.((OOC: please follow entaris back to "Evil among us"

"Courage; we have not forgotten you...."

Just as quickly as it came the link was gone; yet Shayla knew from whom this message originated. She smiled slightly and leaned back, trying to situate herself on the floor so she could rest as comfortably as possible which, due to the inhospitable environment she was finding herself in, wasn't very much.

She'd somehow known all along that she hadn't been forgotten. There were simply other things of more importance at the moment. She would continue to survive or, if Fate deemed otherwise, die here for a cause that no one in the entire universe could top:

The Yammosk was very well fed indeed.

Abaddonis’s fury held no bounds when he discovered that the prisoners aboard his ship, his beautifully evil ship crewed with such beautifully evil beings, had somehow vanished right beneath his very nose.

And as for the child…

She too had been taken, had never been transported back to the home world.

Thus saith the last transmission before it had dripped away into the expansion of spacetime, leaving its electronic trail behind it.

The now greatly reduced crew had come to learn promptness remarkable even for a Yuuzhan Vong, had learned to understand their Dark Lord’s every nuance, every unspoken thought, had learned to glean his desires from the very stance of his body even before he had become aware of having that desire to begin with.

And had acted with such precise alacrity that even Abaddonis had to grudgingly admit killing any more would bode him no personal good, would only perhaps stand in the way of seeking that which had by now escalated and taken highest priority over any and all other preconceived plans.

He would have Her. The one He had sent to him, the weak and violet eyed one who had dared to stand up before him without so much as a single thorn to use as a weapon. Such defiance he could honor, indeed would have honored at the time, until She had dared to be taken from him…

…as had the other one, the one with eyes the color of the sea, with hair the color of the sun.

Both had been his…

HIS.

And both had dared to taunt him in the manner they had, however it was they had managed it. Oh, he had soon reached out with his own dark talents, and had quickly discerned just how it was that this feat had come into play; that was the day half his crew had given their lives to slake his fierce and terrible wrath. But that too was the day he had made this new Vow:

He and his warriors would complete their mission; there was no question about that. Neither was there any question of just who it was who would take the fruits of that mission by the throat in an iron-gloved stranglehold until his people came flooding back in glorious victory.

The Sith be damned to the deepest level of hell; he, Abaddonis, would make certain the red-skinned horned ignoramus would meet that end.

But before, before the realization of his wonderfully assured victory, he would have Her.

He would have them.

Once more he stood before the writhing villip, watching through eyes not quite his own as the absolute nothing which existed between something was stretched and distorted and taffy-pulled into something unbearable to look upon, relishing the encroaching madness the sight inspired within him, a break with reality as solid within his mind as their ship’s break with the reality of the universe itself.

The ship ravened on, crying through hyperspace, as the home of the Sith and the jedi and the humans and the wookies and the water peoples and tiny forest dwellers and planet-sized cities grew closer, ever closer.

Quite literally.

By now the impossibility of hyperdrive had carried the Vong warship deep into the realms of intergalactic space. Millions of light-years stretched out behind it, and somewhere at the very tip of that byway was a failing ghost of light, a ghost representing the billions upon billions of stars which made up the home galaxy of their race.

A galaxy which had sedately gone about its business of aging as reality required it do, despite the fact that the Dark Lord they had adopted had not only left it, but hadn't even contacted any of its civilized worlds to let it know of his progress.

He hadn't even reached his goal yet, so great are the terrible and icy distances between galaxies.

And so, even though time ticked by aboardship in a way perceived as being quite normal to the crew, the beings back in the Yuuzhan Vong galaxy found that several thousand years had flicked by.

Such are the vagaries of time dilation.

Planets had risen to challenge the unconquerable Vong... and had been squelched underfoot like so much cabbage. New leaders had risen, some to actually take hold of the mighty empire and command it for a time being in their Lord's absence.. an absence which gradually began taking on the form of a memory... and then a myth.

And then something that was, at last, totally forgotten altogether.

But this was not known aboard the Vong ship. The dire and dark Abaddonis was not aware of such things, nor did he care. His was not the way of learning and knowledge, of putting such things to purposeful use, whether that use be for his benefit alone or that of his people or his home or his adopted galaxy. His, instead, was the way of the Conquerer, of the Sacker of Men, the Destroyer of Nations.

The Taker. And the Holder.

He stood now, yet staring out into the madness of nothing being stretched through hyperspace, knowing full well that his destiny was drawing closer and closer with every artificially expanded second that ticked by.

The time was fast approaching where he and his small fleet would make themselves known to the entities of the approaching galaxy, so kindly known.

Just before they were ruthlessly slain or put to slave labor.

Or worse.

Abaddonis's eerie eyes flashed something approaching ultraviolet, and his sensual lips curled in a smile.

Seating himself theatrically at his command niche, he engaged the lone piece of technology aboardship: a computerized database. Thus was the stranglehold he had upon the Vong displayed, yet again.

His lips curled into a snarl as he keyed up information, studied the elegant sigils now scrolling before his eyes.

The little attempt by the suddenly appearing one who he had killed had brought with it certain... puzzlements, puzzlements which had niggled in the back of his mind ever since. The intrusion of the Pair, and their disappearance, only lent that puzzlement greater foundation; his brow thundering upon his pale face he scrutinized the information, over and over, seeking a clue, a glimmer, as to what it was that had occurred.

Power, he thought to himself with a hiss.

There was Power there, incredible ability, Power which when overtaken to add to his own not inconsiderable talents and the legendary ruthlessness of his own warriors would ensure to the last decimal his victory...

...not only in the approaching galaxy, but in others as well. The Universe, after all, was infinite, and within its boundless perimeter there were many fruits ripe for the plucking.

As well as the scattered decaying ones, ripe for recruiting.

As he had done with his contact in the galaxy toward which they were howling....

His eyes gleamed, his talons raked the board, the screeching sound rending the air, attacking the walls about him. He paid it no heed, relishing the flicker of pain it brought to him, moved slightly that the thorns embedded in his shoulders embraced him more deeply, more painfully.

He smiled.

Soon, he promised is unseen compatriot.

Abaddonis hunkered at his computer station, studying a display of the upcoming galaxy. For, arrogant in his superiority as he was, strong enough in his powers to more than justify that arrogance, he was not stupid. Well he recalled the past failure of the Vong to take this galaxy; he had no intention of repeating their errors.

Besides, there was... something here, something he sensed more and more clearly, the closer and closer that they got, something that hinted at a Power even his own considerable talents would be hard-pressed to stand against.

He remembered its scent, metallic and clean, as it had wafted from... them as, each in turn, both had been prisoner aboard his ship.

Both had disappeared.

How well he recalled that day, far ago in time and even more remote in space, when standing upon that moonlet he had reached out, searching, sensing, promising...

...and coming to a crashing halt against a strange something, that same something now growing stronger and stronger in his very essence, sending his blood to boiling like a hunting nek who closes in upon certain prey.

He smiled to himself, clenching a gloved fist, letting his talons shred his own palms, shifting to let the thorns of is cloak scrape against bone and nerve and muscle, bringing exquisite pain.

And with that pain, iron control and determination. Without one shred of accompanying weakness.

The fist uncurled, moved to the display, one claw now tapping the screen. The galaxy zoomed in, now showing myriad "X's" in blood-red, each mark depicting a system the Vong had mapped on their last, failed, foray into galactic dominion.

The palm of his hand spread out in an almost loving manner, caressing the image as if foreshadowing the ease by which he would succeed where the Vong alone had failed. For succeed they would, that much he was certain of. They had come close the last time, but now, with him in the lead...

The hand fisted, the forefinger now tapping on a section far along an outer arm which showed no "X's." He tapped; the image slewed obligingly closer.

Myriad stars twinkled at him, some single, the majority paired. He squinted closer, searching...

Yes. No systems showing, other than one apparently insignificant one. A tiny red dwarf of a sun, holding onto its pair of tiny worlds as if trying to use them as a buffer against the vast coldness of the space they occupied.

He smiled cruelly to himself, closing the screen and rising to his feet.

That is our point of entry, he mused to himself as, striding now through the ship like the harbinger of death that he was, he moved to the bridge to make certain of their entrance trajectory.

Soon, he repeated his earlier promise, his new mantra, his electric-chrome eyes glittering.

Soon.

Things had happened with such speed that Shayla barely knew she had been taken, let alone who she had been taken with, until a moment or two after it had happened. Sensing a change in her surroundings, however, Shayla immediately quested out with the Force, seeking to understand the dim and somehow moist place in which she found herself...

...only to come out with,well, absolutely nothing. At least, almost nothing. There was one particular source of warmth still present. Shayla stretched out to that familarity, her eyes now clear enough to make out Jharmeen's form...

...as well as to make out just where it appeared they were, although her Force-senses had already answered that question.

She too knew precisely where they were. Hadn't she -- indeed, hadn't both of them -- been sent here once already?

"It would seem his modus operandi hasn't changed much, even in death," she commented as she drew close to Shayla, placing a protective arm about her shoulders. She cast another glance about, that roving gaze ending squarely in Shayla's greeny-blue eyes.

She couldn't help but smile to see the puzzlement shining there.

"Roan," she said simply, giving Shayla an encouraging little squeeze.

"He has sent us here... yet again."

Nodding, she cast yet another look about herself, trying to orient herself as to exactly where in the Vong ship they had been sent. It appeared to be someone's private quarters, judging by the spare bunk and equally spare furnishings which were scattered haphazardly about the interior. One vine-encrusted wall sported a series of living pods of some kind, one of which was popped open. A clear liquid gurgled from it; Graysith grimaced in distaste and turned back to Shayla.

"He is foolish to expend the energy in sending us here, when it is but nothing for me to send us back. Unless--"

Now her eyes widened, filling with sudden fear.

With no further ado the Chosen Daughter reached out with her talents and easily rifted the spacetime continuum, opening a pathway into the Darker Realms yet again.

Only in the last instant, before the rift was complete, did she stop.

"This would be an opportunity to discover how far this vessel is from our galaxy," she said in a low voice. "We would then know how much time we have not only to prepare for its coming, but to persuade the right people into believing it is coming.

"How?"

She looked quickly around, then stode to the wall. Grasping one of the fluid-spurting pods, she stuffed it into a pocket in her thrimm.

"Perhaps this will be evidence enough for those who have the ships to defend us," she said as she returned to Shayla. Then she reached to the Rift again.

"Be prepared; we can spare no further time. I already fear we may be too late...

"We go directly to the Tower, for the link I have with my love is too strong for even the Master to sever."

So saying, she completed the portal.

Grasping Shayla's hand in hers she stepped bravely forth, coming to a halt in the shadows which gibbered in the perimeter of the chamber, in the middle of which lay the Dark Lord Phalomir.

The Dark Lord of the Vong stood glaring on his command deck, clenching and unclenching his fists, sending his claws deep into his palms, his shoulder muscles scraping against the embedded thorns, both drawing blood.

Blood and pain, both relished.

Both promised.

And whisper of that silent promise had already been fulfilled, for there were many minions who had died a most dishonorable and excruciatingly painful death at his hands when one had unwisely mentioned that there was a strange blip on his screen, something not quite right, and that perhaps, just perhaps, someone had momentarily infiltrated their hyper-speeding ship.

Impossible! had been his first thought, then memory triggered and awareness grew explosively.

It was that. The Blotch, whatever it was; that which he could not penetrate, that which he could sense, along with those two who had once been within the bleeding palm of his hand. Long enough to--

Another minion scraped up, bellied and bereft, scrubbing his face into the living decking of his ship of yorik coral, waiting to gain his attention, perhaps after a boot to his head. But attention was given, rapidly.

"Yes?!" he snarled as he hulked over the soldier.

The Vong shifted his face just enough that his voice would carry. The Dark Lord listened intently, then let a blackened smile oil across his face. Giving the lowerling a hearty kick in the kidney area, he paid no attention to the resulting crunch as he hastened off to one side of the command center.

There a well-fed villip smiled at him with fleshy, opening lips.

"Yes?" he said again, only this time his voice was much more intense...

Beyond the hull of the ship, intergalactic space screamed on in hyperdriven splendor...

POSTED BY SHAYLA:

Something now deeply-seated in Shayla's essence began to oil and dance in dark connection with that entity now represented by the villip.

"We have made the first move, and they do not even know it," Shayla purred darkly. "And now we have also made the second, and the nexus has been infiltrated, completely. The war has begun, and we only await your arrival. In the meantime, there are those who one stand in our way and pose a true threat: One Dark Lord of the Sorcerors Aeolmir, and one Dark Lord of the Armorers Phalomir. The latter may be easily swayed, the former not so easily.

The nexus cannot be restored to its normalcy or we will fail. They must be stopped, now. Suggestions?"

REPLY BY ABADDONIS:

The villip seemed to coil inward upon itself, taking on an even more evil parody of the ghostly face it was representing as the Dark Lord returned Shayla's smile with an oily one of his own.

"Goo-oo-ood," he purred in turn, the intensity of his gaze growing even more thunderous until the entire chamber seemed to be filled with a strange ultraviolet glow.

Figuratively speaking, of course...

The face within the pod seemed to turn sidewards then, staring down as if in contemplation, or if it was perusing something. It then lifted, pinning Shayla with the same intensity as before.

"There is linkage to this Dark Realm of which I have had some experience? And out again?"

The eyes grew momentarily vague as the Dark Lord recalled his brief experience with Maladius, seeming eternities ago. They brightened; the fleshy, sensuous lips curled in an even more oily smile.

"Your Mistress has those who dwell there under my command? I expect to find it so at my arrival!"

Having anyone else so much as thinking of owning the dark command of the imps was so intolerable to him as to be instinctively dismissed.

"If this is the case, then all is prepared. We shall meet at the designated spot; destroy this villip that none other shall find it."

He paused only for a moment.

"And as for the others, I do not expect them to be looking forward to enjoying a doddering old age. I give you leave to use your ingenuity. Use allies, if need be, but remember--"

He paused, the villip seeming to grow in stature, growing even more formidable.

"All shall owe allegiance to me!"

The enormous pinwheel galaxy spiraled in the unimaginable distance, albeit a distance that was bit by excruciating bit coming ever closer as the faithful ship howled on. Even now progress of sorts could be actually verified, for those vast spaces between that galaxy's winding arms could now be seen as full of tiny, barely there, blips of feeble light. The Dark Lord knew those blips represented millions upon millions of stars, smaller stars of the mundane variety, whose beauty up until now had been overwhelmed by their brighter, giant brothers which populated the arms of the galaxy. A dark expression, half smile, half sneer, crawled sickeningly across his face, and he reached out a clawed hand toward the viewport.

Mine.

His fist closed, and just for the pure enjoyment of it he turned, aiming his powers toward a lackey who groveled in the shadows, ever ready to scrape off at his bidding. His tongue licked his sensuous lips, his eyes glittered as he slowly closed his hand into a fist.

Nothing happened.

He blinked, rearing back in utter surprise at this. Tried again, although this time in a manner less obvious in case the lackey should suddenly gaze up to see if his Lord wished anything of him.

Nothing happened.

His eyes, wide with the anticipation of what he was promising to do, widened further with shock. Then narrowed. Slowly, his hand fisted tightly, dropped down to his side. Before him the lackey kept prone, his face screwed into the deck, luckily enough for him. It certainly would not have boded him well had he happaned to look up in time to see his Lord and Master's failure.

Quick to recover, Abaddonis pushed down the rage which ravened within him to ponder this latest perplexity. Yes, while it would be something of an annoyance to be actually without his supernatural strengths, he for the moment actually did not really need them. The Vong did all his dirty work; as long as they felt he was the epitome of omnipotent power he was mere moments ago, his world would continue as planned.

But there was one, simple exception.

He now had no way to discern where that hideously annoying blotch was, nor his new ally. All links with the latter, as well as his ability to sense out toward the former, had snapped from existence.

No matter. He still had his fix on the little red star, and from the strength of what he had felt just prior to the strange disappearance of his powers knew that said star was home to a system. One with a power he yearned to capture, and command.

If it could yet be done.

The latter thought gave him sudden pause, and he snarled inwardly. Just to be certain, he whirled and approached the groveling lackey. Coming to a halt, he lifted his booted heel, and without any warning brought it swiftly and viciously down upon the unlucky Vong's head. The cruelty of the motion ended his life with a highly satisfying crunch.

The foamy, black bubble it poked into roiled, echoing with the slobbering yowls of billions upon billions of imps...

They/It looked up, seemed to cock sideways.

"Fair move, mathematically verified," was all It/They said, al the while making certain that the tentative other tendril so newly created had found firm docking in the vastness of intergalactic space around it. Then they just were not there anymore, vanishing utterly into the weird otherness They/It called Its/Their True Home.

That which some have come to think of as Which Was reared its wonderful one-ness back into the omnipotent non-ness of what it was/wasn't; cradled its quite unique non-ness into the accepting arms of the all-encompassing one-ness and let go a little, virtual smile. It took a look about its non-self, taking in the grandeur of ALL there was, the ALL of which some little portions of it were now being allowed to awaken to the fact that their gradually progressing perceptions of it were on the right track.

There was a time Man thought HE was the center of it all. In response to that silliness time was given; Man then thought his little celestial body was. Then his little stellar; oh, such wonderful beings those stellars. Perhaps one day their language would finally be deciphered by the other pieces at play.

He/she/it shook a figurative head, smiled more smugly at the Progression Of Things, which albeit slow was at least on an accurate track.

One day those little motes awoke to the fact that there was more, oh indeed quite more; their tunneled little view expanded its paradigms and took a leap of faith.

Stellars existed, vast quantities of them in wonderful pin-wheeling units. At first only each individual one was recognized by the motes inhabiting it, but slowly, bit by bit, in a manner yet evolving, each little bit grew cognizant of the fact that there were more, there were hundreds, millions, billions of those units, each in turn encompassing billions of stellar brothers.

That the stellars were the true Life of the Universe was not yet understood by the little motes dwelling in the All-ness; it was enough that they now looked out toward a universe with tiny eyes that were gradually opening in recognition of the fact that perhaps the better term was in fact Universes...

"Hey, unfair move! That's partiality!" The cry from him/her/itself came from behind him/her/itself.

That-Which-Was took up some stuff of what is, coalesed it into the brilliant ultraviolet-and-chrome Eyes of which he/she/it had become quite fond, and cast them behind his/her/itself.

A figurative sigh was heaved.

"We hoped we wouldn't have noticed..." it non-said, then muttered in further rejoinder, "But a fair move had been made."

Nothing back but a snort; he/she/it sighed, and then waved a figurative hand.

The fabric of Stuff which wove together existence of both forms, be it living or non, rippled, gathered into an immensely tiny little bunch, and exploded outward in the virtual equivalent of a Big Bang.

Here and there certain motes began waking up, some in surprise, some with regret, but one by one those certain few began to wake up as if from a deep slumber.

The Other still wasn't satisfied. "We're not just giving it away!" it protested, the non-words loud and born in total effrontery.

That-Which-Was merely snorted.

"Of course not. Balance must be maintained; it must always be maintained. We know that, and some of us still know it at different degrees, at different levels than others.

"We'll see now..."

The Other muttered beneath its non-breath. "We still think you're making up the Rules as you go along! But we'll wait.