Private Descent

[Alkor Centaris]

Kolto pumped through his veins. The fingers of his right arm twitched, tingled. He watched idly as they unzipped his flesh as though it were natural. The Dark Jedi saw his own muscle, bone, veins, cartilage- the limb held together by a layer of gossamer mucous. They peeled away the ruined matter and discarded it, allowing one of the servitors to repurpose it into useful bio-matter.

Yuuzhan Vong were a matter of fact in the Galaxy. Their shaper caste excelled in the healing arts in a way no Jedi or Sith truly could. The Force could create and sustain life, but the Vong made life an art.

"A strange thing," Lim Uwa commented as he observed the withered limb. "I have seen this strange Force do many things. Take live, give life, but this... it's fascinating."

Alkor had never trusted the Vong. He'd watched them do horrific things and they had no honor. At least, their honor did not extend to infidels. It half surprised him that they were willing to perform at all.

They had not numbed the arm. He felt each incision and every bit of blood that pumped out of him. It was a sacred part of their faith, the acceptance of pain. They delighted in the fact that this human simply embraced it.

"Everything that moves into this limb is corrupted," the Shaper explained. "There is not really a better word, though I loathe to consider the idea that an infidel could pervert life so. How did you come to have this affliction?"

Alkor's glazed eyes moved up toward the Vong. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a raspy groan escaped. How had it happened...?

The past was a blur, now. Disjointed thoughts danced through his mind, drowning in a sea of rage. They'd given him more power and more, until he recognized the disparity. The discipline they'd trained him to dole out did not apply to him. The law did not apply. All of these codified things that he'd been conditioned to preserve and protect... meaningless.

"Hate," he verbalized at last. "I hate them..."

"Ah, hatred. This is a concept we understand," Lim smiled. "Hatred is born of pain. Suffering fosters growth."

Alkor held the Shaper's gaze evenly. "I will have to recycle the matter and run many tests," Lim told him. "And I will need to remove all traces of your inferior biomatter in order to undo the levels of damage. Do you consent to this?"

His eyes trailed to his arm, and Alkor blinked. The Dark Jedi felt anger for the first time in many years. Heat welled up beneath the surface.

"Do you consent?" Lim asked once more.

"Give me back my arm."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

The process was mind-numbing. Each tug and twist of the shaper arm grew more excruciating. It wormed through the bio-webbing and tore away necrotic mass, gulping it down and greedily tucking it away for examination. Even dead biomass was biomass. The Vong would find a way to breathe life into it once more.

For now, Lim focused on peeling away the rotten layers of force affliction. Genius movements and careful, practiced eyes allowed him to perceive life in its smallest form even when hidden away. He perceived it, and like a tree taking root and drinking it minerals, he cultivated it. "I take that which clings desperately to life and allow it to thrive," he explained as Alkor felt his bones crunch and crack. He let out a silent gasp. "Calcium deposits, even small fractures from previous wounds, these things are almost untraceable, yet they remain. The body remembers old wounds even when the mind begins to forget."

The shards of bone that splintered away broke free and began to move away, and finally osmosed away through the membrane that the Shaper had formed over the arm. "And the body seeks to heal by centering its natural healing processes around these wounds. By enhancing those processes with the proper stimuli..."

He could feel it. Bone began to grow at an alarming rate. Alkor let out a loud, sharp sound. "And now, we exsanguinate the limb..."

Alkor's eyes rolled backward as the suction began, and he felt his finger bones curl and twist until there was nothing left to animate them. The entire limb seemed to wither, worse than before the operation began.

When color had left the appendage, Alkor felt it die. From the shoulder down, the Force seeped away from the limb. His eyes slowly moved toward it, shaking.

"Now..." The Shaper watched as the blood filled a tube. Alkor faded from consciousness as he fainted from blood loss. "...to replenish what was lost."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor...?

The world was blurred. He remembered the voice calling out, but not the face that went with it. Alkor felt his body shiver, reacting to some unseen stimulus. Who is that? What's happening?

Alkor! Come back home!

He remembered it, if only for a moment. A small, cramped apartment. The semblance of a happy life. Someone he felt... something... for.

...who are you? He reached out, but his fingers swiped faintly through an ephemeral image. He was surrounded by a sea of mist. Where is home?

Alkor asked, but when he considered the answer for himself, his mind went hot with rage. "I have no home!" he screamed out.

His eyes jolted open, and he was drenched with perspiration. When he tried to move his arm, he realized he could feel it again. He looked down to see a shape not unlike his arm, but the Shaper was knitting replacement flesh into place. "Ah, Alkor Centaris," Lim greeted. "You have returned to wakefulness. Welcome back. I trust your sleep was restful?"

He looked at the Vong and blinked. "Vong," he asked. "Do you recall your home?"

"It was taken from me," Lim answered.

"Then we are the same," Alkor said.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

He came to the Vong because he could not trust anyone else. Alkor left suddenly and without telling anyone, and he'd drifted alone for a long time. This Shaper was a free-agent when compared to the vast number of Vong in the Galaxy, a group of whom had joined with the Sith Empire recently. Lim had some ties to that group, but he maintained a sense of Independence.

"If you wanted to improve your arm with militant biots, I encourage you to make dealings with the Sith faction," Nim told Alkor. "There is an unspoken rule that those of us who wish to remain neutral are not permitted to shape tools of war. If we did, we could unwittingly be sucked into a power struggle. I have given you back an arm, but it has greater potential."

Alkor nodded. "I thank you," he bowed respectfully. "And your payment..."

"Has been settled, as discussed. Your patronage is most appreciated, Alkor Centaris."