Tell No One

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Tell No One.

Chapter 1.

The air, thick with the scent of heavy organics, near stung his eyes. Excitement and a sense of elated awe had kept them open, it was a minor discomfort and nothing more, those were to be ignored as it had no place in Yuuzhan Vong society – and certainly not in his own frame of mind.
His warriors’ heart had swelled with pride when the supreme commander had voiced the auspicious news.
Escalation, what every warrior strove for exuberantly.
This time, it was not for the crèche brother he had idolized as a crecheling, nor was it for any of his crèche mates, this escalation was his.

The warrior had struggled to contain the excitement, that had almost caused him to tremble with acute delight, as the priests of Yun-Yammka had performed the correct rituals on him, purifying and anointing him before he had been lead to this chamber by some of the priests’ novice attendants. Here he would wait for the shaper who would see to it that his grafts were applied in accordance to the level of rank attained through his escalation. This time, he was to receive coral barbs, or hooks, from which he would hang a living cloak of command.
Commander…
He allowed the word to roll off his tongue, it had more than a nice ring to it.

Through the membranous entrance at his back stepped an attendant, conveying the shaper into the chamber at a leisurely pace. Atop her head sat the mass of writhing tentacles that flicked out and curled at the ends accordingly with her inner emotions. She too would have undergone a blessing of sorts, and this was made all the more apparent by the still – bleeding strip of flesh that had been painstakingly peeled away from one of her long bare legs in an elaborate pattern, creating a raw black-as-night flesh wound.
The shapers maa’it implanted eyes shifted their shade slightly, to a glazed, soothing green. No doubt she was dealing with the pain in her own little way.
Her headdress coiled tightly down toward her scalp in ringlets, when the warrior at the centre of the chamber, spared her a glance over one adorned shoulder. He had no inclination as to what the gesture meant, and her face was night on unreadable. So he watched in curious wonderment as the attendant with her ducked out and soon returned with a pair of crustacean-like creatures.
Tools of the shaper, he assumed.

With crossed arms, fists touching each shoulder, the attendant bowed respectfully and then left the chamber. The modifications or receiving of implants would be done in private this time. He wished to deliver the proud news of his escalation to his domain himself.

The shaper stepped round into his view, now for the first time the warrior got a proper look at her. She was clearly of master’s rank, her eight fingered shapers hand implanted with a variety of spiteful looking and useful tools, all of which were as alive as she was. Her striking features beheld a certain allure that was echoed in her eyes, set off by elaborate swirls of tattoos and scarification to her head. The most predominant of all her facial adornments was that of her domain symbol, three embellished wedge shapes at the centre of her forehead, signifying her as a member of domain Kwaad.
So alive in appearance and form was she, that the warrior wondered – had she been a warrior, he might have liked to get to know this one better.

Truth be known, he found her stunning to look at, would this be so if she had been one of his caste? Perhaps not, perhaps it was the allure of the unknown that called to him now – as it had many before him no doubt. Her shimmering eyes glittered suspiciously as she narrowed her gaze upon him.
Could she sense his blasphemous thoughts? Such things at such a crucial time were not advisable, so he offered his silent prayer of apology to the gods, reminding himself as he slew the thoughts that might taint him, that he should spend longer in his nightly devotions to the slayer, rather than Yun Harla.

The shapers hands moved deftly over the flesh of his left shoulder, exploring the contours of its form analytically, the flesh beneath her hands was already adorned with what she presumed were scars of rank, the spiked coral implants would make such markings look utterly spectacular to the naked eye.
Reaching back to recover one of the creatures the attendant had brought her, the shaper called it to her hand. The creeper-like crustacean scuttled into her spiteful grasp, issuing a hungry chirp as it was placed gently upon the vulnerable flesh of the warriors shoulder.

A sharp spark of hot pain ignited his nerves, shooting through synapses with acute agony as the creature went to work on the flesh beneath its razor sharp claws. The shaper looked on, as if analysing his reaction to the tiny creatures’ important work. What she saw impressed her immensely. Not so much as a flash of acknowledgement of what had to be a slow and nerve grinding discomfort. Here was one who deserved the title he had just attained then, unlike some warriors she cared not to remember.
Their caste was much of a muchness in her eyes, there to keep the others in line,
‘Rule by fear’ she thought to herself disdainfully.
But this one? He seemed like the sort to pay close attention to detail. Indeed, he was watching her work with an avid interest, dark blood now oozing from the raw and open wound on his shoulder. Ngdin’s would soak up the excess, but some must be collected for ceremonial offerings to the gods.

He had stopped watching the work now, averting his gaze instead – and unexpectedly – to the shaper herself. This, the shaper realized, many moments later, causing her to flush a deeper shade when she realized she had become lost in a reverie. Her tendrils unfurled into an uneasy sway, she stilled them with her free, unaltered hand – barely brushing them before they calmed. As she busied herself with the small task, it was he who broke the restless silence at last,
“It was fortunate that a master shaper, yourself, could perform this escalation at such short notice.” He offered, probably a warriors form of giving thanks – if this was the case, it was eloquently put for one of his caste.

“I do what I must to serve the gods, I heed their call. ” she lied in a rather cold but unobvious tone befitting of one who was so used to speaking down to lower ranking caste members.

Amusement seemed to glitter in his dark eyes, “And what name should I call if I wished the same of myself?” Asked the warrior in a manner that was all too direct. But that was their way was it not? Direct.
The shapers tendrils had curled into tight knots the moment those words had fallen from his mouth, betraying her surprise and outrage all at once.

Picking up the last remaining creature, the shaper sought to continue on with her work, placing the creeper over the gaping shoulder wound none too gently this time. Now that drew out a minute hiss from the warrior, and he snapped his gaze round to look as the crustacean scrabbled over bone and sinew to gain a proper purchase. When it had, it prepared to place – or rather fuse – the seed it had nestled upon it’s narrow-shelled back.

“Mezhan, domain Kwaad.” The shaper responded as if out of nowhere, as if her prior cold actions had been entirely unintended – but he would know that was not so…if he was smart enough.

The warrior appeared to forget his discomfort in that instant, he had actually gotten a response…
“I am honoured, Master Mezhan Kwaad” He began, “I am Vua Rapuung.”

Mezhan Kwaad seemed thoroughly engrossed in her work again, rearranging the creature sitting at the centre of the wound as it sought to fuse the seed to bone. Was she ignoring him?
“I do not recall asking for your name.” She responded in a slightly softer tone that attested to her concentration.
No, not ignoring him completely then. Vua Rapuung’s eyes shone with amusement renewed, he liked this shaper, he realized after a moment or two more of consideration. And if he was not mistaken…

The fiery pain in his shoulder had returned, seeking to override what years of conditioning told him he should do. He would perhaps install himself in the embrace of pain when he was done with his devotions too. Rid himself of these foolish feeling and wrong thoughts. The shaper had captured his gaze once again, her cruel amusing words had captured his thoughts, she was – he thought – the consummate picture of severe beauty.
Yet that was the problem, she was a shaper, a master at that. If not forbidden in inter caste, she was forbidden in her own caste alone, bound by the gods decree that no master shaper should take a mate.
Yun-Ne’shel it seemed, had forged an alliance with the trickster, Vua Rapuung thought with bitter disappointment.

The teeth jarring scrape of claws on wet bone, indicated that the creature had finished it’s auspicious work. A peculiar feeling swept through the young warriors mind, rendering what should have been a tortuous pain to a barely noticeable ache. The task would soon be complete and they –the shaper and he – would go their separate ways.
On worldships as large as this, there was a very strong likelihood of never encountering each other again.
That, Rapuung realized, was not what he wanted at all. They had shared but the briefest of moments here, but there ‘had’ been a moment. He would have bet his life on the shaper acknowledging that fact also. So much about her intrigued and tempted him, he was not ready to let go of the chance to see more.

She had remained lost in thought even as the fusing creature had indicated it’s work was done. It clacked it’s claws impatiently again before Mezhan Kwaad was forced to break her gaze and remove it. She turned her ministrations of the warriors shoulders once more – both creatures had begun work on the other – shapers hand deftly sealing the wound around the nub of a yorik coral seed, which would eventually blossom in a matter of weeks to form the standard shoulder spur so associated with commanders of his rank.
Clip beetles would secure the deep cut ridges of skin either side of the nub.

By the time she had finished with one shoulder, she need only see to the other, then she would take her leave. Good, his words and his eyes on her made her feel uncomfortable, but for a most unusual reason.
His shared amusement at her otherwise caustic comments, the way he held himself, looked at her. There was much going on behind those dark eyes of his – much that made Mezhan Kwaad curious.
But her discomfort in these facts had all been spawned by one notion alone. He had caused her to think in ways that a master shaper should not – and she liked that.

Unknown to all for now, Mezhan Kwaad, like many shapers daring enough, had long sought answers to questions that the protocols, contained in the shapers’ cortexes, could not answer. Cortexes were relative libraries of information accessible only to the shapers via painful means, handed down to them from the gods themselves. Such information told them how to shape the simplest biot, to the most complex. Many could be turned to all manner of useful means…but early on in her mastery, Mezhan Kwaad had sought answers to problems the protocols could not be turned to.
She had, again like many of the ambitious, petitioned the Supreme Overlord, that he may ask of the gods to furnish such answers with new protocols. Yet she was given none, rebuked for persistence, threatened for her ingenuity, Mezhan Kwaad had been forced to turn inwards for such answers. Naturally she had done so in secret, in her private chambers concealed from prying eyes within the shaper damutek she had worked toward seeking her own resolutions. Beyond the existing protocols, beyond the gods, it was pure heresy.
Heresy, all Yuuzhan Vong knew abhorrently, lead to dishonourable death. She did not fear death, no.
Indeed, as time had gone on, klekkets turning into endless yearly cycles, she had begun to notice one thing. Surely if no one else had already, would gods who saw all, knew all, not have punished her for her shameful heretical acts? What was she to them after all? Nothing.
There was only one answer kept cropping up each time she asked herself these very questions, daring the gods to smite her for her deeds. It all came back to this – there were no gods.

The gods were to the Supreme Overlord, and the priests too no doubt, what her eight fingered masters hand was to her – a tool, one that could both bind and divide the masses, a tool to keep order among the castes and castless alike.
Mezhan Kwaad had shared these thoughts with no other, she could not risk it, not yet, but when she had heard Vua Rapuung speak, seen the way she had captivated his attention, she had felt a certain resonance.
The shaper knew better than to assume he would think as she did, the way he had sat there so adamantly proud told her this much. But he had clearly shown much interest in her than a warrior should. This – attraction? Was that it? – should perhaps be followed up on.
It seemed so long since she had been allowed to take a lover, let alone be seen to be doing so. Mezhan Kwaad knew, of course, of master shapers who had defied such commandments at their own peril. Some had gotten away with it, others were sacrificed soon after,
‘As a warning to keep the rest of us in line’ – she thought to herself sadly.
But she saw herself as careful, and should this warrior be willing…oh yes, she liked the banter and small mind games they had played here.

“My work is complete commander, it should take mere days for the coral to form it’s self correctly, according to the growth accelerant I added.” Mezhan Kwaad informed as she rose, her headdress almost serenely still.
Vua Rapuung rose also, examining the fine work as if to glimpse it for the first time.
“I give thanks, Master Mezhan Kwaad, as I shall in my devotions.”

Mezhan Kwaad did not respond to that, instead Vua Rapuung noted, she merely quirked a brow ridge as if delving into her own private amusement once more. This time he decided to address the matter promptly,
“You find something amusing master shaper..” This was no question and he was delighted when his eyes caught sight of her tendrils unfurling all at once, stretching until almost straight like wild amphistaff’s in the groves, reaching for the first tentative rays from worldships nourishing light-fungi.
The warriors heart swelled with triumph one more time, he had managed to catch her at her own game. Now it was he who was once again enthralled.

Stiffened in posture by his comment, Mezhan Kwaad willed away an inward smile of her own. Who could tell what else he could see? Though she had made it a little obvious.
“Yes,” she began after a short pause of reflection, “I do.”
Her headdress danced and writhed atop her head invitingly, she remained where she was in silence, trying to read Vua Rapuung’s expression. It had turned from one of expectation to one of askance when she had not furnished her thoughts further. A look, she noted, that was very appealing on him.

“Explain.” Vua Rapuung had finally asked.

Waiting for an answer would do him no good, the shaper felt the adrenaline course through her veins, sending a delectable shiver up her spine.
“You,” she responded as evenly as she could muster with all the same directness he had used on her, “I find you very amusing.”

Too stunned and a little confused to ask more, Vua Rapuung stood in silence now himself. Her words could have meant anything, but the way she had uttered them, a tone so full of positive possibility, that it was hard not to hear what he suspected – no, what he wanted to hear in them.
She had begun to collect up what she had brought here when the warrior had not responded quickly enough for her liking. Placing the crustacean-like creatures in a coral dish next to the one filled with what blood she had been able to collect from the procedure, Mezhan Kwaad would leave those for the priests to attend to. Then she made to leave.

Without even considering the ramifications, the warrior reached out suddenly with a lightening fast grip, grasping her upper arm as she passed him abruptly.
Pulling her back toward him, her headdress betraying her outrage and shock, Mezhan Kwaad’s gaze snapped round to meet his in a split second. A surprised outrage burned in her almost multifaceted eyes too. She could have used a multitude of vicious implants to dispatch him, he would know that it would be all too easy, poisoned finger darts, whipstings. But she had stayed her hand.
Now, even her steely gaze had cooled too…his grip on her arm had not relaxed though.

“Stay, explain.” He said in a tone of curiosity, unbecoming of a warrior really. Yet he could think of no other way to keep her here, not willingly. She had not relaxed at all, understandable, but neither had she fought. Instead she raised her eight fingered shapers hand to where his own hand griped her arm, placing it over the top of his hand until she felt his grip relax. Not once did her gaze waver, not once did his, and again they found their resonance in each others eyes.

As unexpectedly as he had grasped her, she had pulled him toward her to whisper into his ear.
“Not here.”

Vua Rapuung felt his heard leap within his chest in a bit to contain an excitement that was all but forbidden to him. Adrenaline flowed steadily through his veins, seeking to make his spine tingle in anticipation.
Not here – so where?
She was going to leave that up to him it seemed, he could see that in her eyes, lurking just beneath the surface of her crystalline patterns of the maa’it implants. The fighting beast was firmly on his side of the battle arena.
Mezhan Kwaad was cautious, and yet she risked everything with just a glance and her last words. Vua Rapuung found her all the more alluring for taking those risks.

The shaper drew away from him, her hand slipping from its grip on the warrior’s arm, various sharp implements raked over old scars blissfully yet woefully before finally, she was walking away from him. He watched her go, a sense of confused intrigue and need swirling within his mind, he’d find a way.

When Mezhan Kwaad had heard the wet sound of the chamber entrance membrane close behind her, she felt a small fear glitter in her heart. What if she had been wrong in her assumptions about Vua Rapuung? She risked not only her life –which was second to her next worry – but her whole life’s work. All the new research, all that could be turned to be of good to her people, gone forever if she was to be discovered.
Then there was her sense of selfish need. True, the master shaper had sidelined her own life’s needs a long time ago – was she not owed some respite? That was not the Yuuzhan Vong way.
Her words, she decided, were non effectual. If anything ill came of this, she could easily claim a misunderstanding on the warrior’s part.

Alone in her pondering, Mezhan Kwaad took one last look over her shoulder, and then headed off down the passage-capillary to report to the priests that she had finished her work. On her way, she was mindful of the effigies of Yun-Txiin and Yun-Q’aah watching over her woefully from their sconces fixed to the wall.
There were no gods – she reminded herself- and she had no desire to be sacrificed on the orders of the fanatical.