Zonama Sekot, Friday Afternoon Fandom Time
They'd been on Zonama Sekot for several weeks now. Several weeks of Nen Yim and Harrar pretty much geeking out over every possible thing, Yu'shaa's long periods of silence broken by occasional speeches . . . and absolutely no sign of native inhabitants anywhere, despite repeated and farther-ranging expeditions. With limited food supplies, they'd been doing their best to live off the native resources -- Nen Yim had been able to identify a small handful of edible plants. Gathering expeditions to keep themselves fed provided a good excuse for Tahiri and Corran to talk in private, too.
"We can't stay here forever," Corran was saying. "I've been trying to think of a way to attract the attention of that Imperial frigate, if nothing else."
Tahiri turned the pingpear she'd picked over in her hands and looked down at her bare feet, frowning slightly. The trouser cuffs of her flightsuit seemed to be riding a couple of centimeters higher -- had she grown? "Any thoughts on how to go about that?"
He nodded. "Yes. I'll have to go to the one place I've been avoiding."
He meant the planet's giant hyperdrive -- the one on top of the ridge, that she'd discovered a few days ago, and they'd been trying to keep secret ever since for fear it would disillusion their Yuuzhan Vong companions. But it was the only sign of civilization around, and might have some kind of communications array at the very least.
"How do you think he'll react when he finds out what it is?" Tahiri asked.
Corran grunted. "You tell me."
Oh, probably about the same reaction she'd had on that first trip up to the ridge; Tahiri held up the pingpear. "It's like discovering a perfect piece of fruit has a nasty worm in it -- after you've already taken a few bites."
Corran nodded. "That's what I figured. Still, we have to do something, and I can't imagine he'd let me go without him, not as curious as he's been about it."
"How far away do you think it is? "
"I eyeball it at about twenty klicks."
"Yeah, that's what I figured, too," Tahiri said. "So when do we start?"
"We don't," Corran replied. "Harrar will go with me. I need you to stay and look after the other two."
Tahiri hissed out an exasperated breath. "Again? I'm sick of babysitting. Don't you trust them yet? They're completely moon-eyed over this place, both of them. Harrar is the one we ought to worry about."
"I do worry about Harrar. That's why I'm keeping an eye on him. But the other two -- they're still the enemy, Tahiri." He watched her carefully as he said that, but if he'd been expecting her to bristle Tahiri, listening carefully to the implication of his words, didn't. "No matter how well we seem to be getting along with them as individuals, we can't lose sight of the fact that our goals might be quite different."
"I understand that. It's just that Nen Yim and the Prophet are boring," she complained. "All they do is poke at bugs and twigs all day. Why don't you let me go and you stay here, if you think someone has to?"
"Because this is how I want it, that's why. Brush up on your meditation technique and practice your lightsaber footwork."
Ben was really rubbing off on her, because Tahiri practically whined, "That's all I've been doing for the past week!"
"Well, life is hard." That was really more sarcastic than it needed to be, Corran. "Sometimes you actually have to spend a week without going into battle. I'm sure you can handle it."
"Yes, sir," Tahiri replied, her voice flat with the lack of enthusiasm that came from being treated like a kid again.
He didn't seem to notice. "So Harrar and I will start in the morning. It shouldn't take us more than a day or a day and a half of walking, but I can't say how long it will be before I figure out if there's anything useful there -- maybe an hour, maybe days. I need you to stay alert here."
Tahiri rolled her eyes. "For what? Vicious fruit?"
Corran looked up at her with a keen-eyed expression that reminded her of his former CorSec days. "I don't know," he said. "But the longer we're here, the itchier I feel."
She huffed impatiently. "Maybe you're bored, too."
"It's more than that. I've got a bad feeling about this whole deal. But there's nothing I can do about it until I have some way to contact Luke."
"If he's still here," she countered.
"I think he is. I get occasional glimpses."
"So do I," Tahiri said, "especially of Jacen." She didn't like that at all. "But the Force doesn't care how far away they are. They could be back on Mon Calamari."
"That's not how it feels," Corran said -- practically snapped at her. "You're going to have to trust I've learned a thing or two over the years."
Startled by his reaction, Tahiri protested, "Corran, I know you're a more experienced Jedi than I am."
"Not the impression you give," he said bluntly.
"I'm sorry if I --" To her utter embarrassment, she realized she'd started to cry. "Sometimes I don't express myself very well, I think. I mean, I've just integrated two personalities. I don't have this all worked out yet."
"Hey, easy," Corran murmured. "I misunderstood you, that's all."
"No, no -- Corran, you're my hero," she tried to get out. "Ever since that time when you and Anakin and I . . . I thought we were friends, and then --" The more she talked, the dumber she thought she sounded, so maybe she should just shut up.
"I need more training," she blurted out when he tried to placate her. "Special training. Can't you see that? Why haven't you ever offered -- I mean, you know so much more than I do . . ." She realized she was shaking a little from nerves, and halfway couldn't believe she'd actually said it out loud.
She'd managed to render Corran kriffing Horn staring and speechless. "I never imagined you wanted anything like that from me."
"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, wondering how he could be so dense when he was so smart the rest of the time. "I need some sort of guidance, Corran. I might seem like I know what I'm doing, but I don't."
"I'm not a Master, Tahiri," Corran said gently. "There are Masters who would be happy to train you. Don't you have Jedi back at school who --"
"You have half a chance of understanding me," Tahiri said. "They don't." That wasn't the truth, exactly, but Master Katarn was way too intimidating, and she knew better than to think Master Skywalker's view of her wasn't going to be at least a little clouded.
"I think you're selling them short."
"Maybe," she replied, feeling like a kid. "Is that a no, then?"
"No," Corran said. "But it's not that simple. We'd have to ask Master Skywalker. And at the least it means you'll stop talking back and do what I say. Do you understand that?"
Part of that seemed like an awfully tall order. "You mean you'll take me on?"
"Provisionally, since there are no Masters around, and until I get Luke's yes or no on the matter -- if you agree to those conditions."
In that case, she'd better stop acting like a kid, so she rubbed her sleeve across her eyes and nodded. "I agree, then."
"Good. Then you stay here with Nen Yim and the Prophet. The end."
Tahiri even managed a smile. "Okay."
***
When she found Nen Yim a little while later, the shaper was examining a spherical object that looked like a qahsa but probably wasn't; Tahiri knew, because she'd watched her grow the thing. Tahiri had been watching Nen Yim a lot since they'd been here, which had probably been annoying at least at first.
Sitting down cross-legged near Nen Yim, she queried about this latest experiment -- an elaborate test of Tahiri's theory that the Force was regulating all the life on the planet.
"To explain," Nen Yim began, "I may have to speak of things that will upset you."
She'd wanted to know. And she hadn't. Her stomach twisted in anticipation and apprehension. "This concerns my own shaping, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
Tahiri took a breath. "Go on."
"There is a protocol -- the protocol of Qah -- which is used to integrate manufactured or borrowed memories into the brain tissue of Yuuzhan Vong life," Nen Yim said. "We use it often, mostly for rather mundane purposes --teaching ships to fly, for instance. But we also use it at times to enhance our own memories, to gain skills or knowledge without having to learn them. In the past, on rare occasions, we've used the protocol to replace entire personalities."
Tahiri's hand went up to rub at the back of her neck, feeling the circle of tiny round scars where the provoker spineray had once been attached. "Which is what you tried to do to me."
"Exactly. But the protocol of Qah did not work on your human tissues, naturally -- Yuuzhan Vong and human tissue are not sufficiently compatible for that." Nen Yim raised her hands and knotted them together in an odd gesture. "So instead we used your own brain cells to create a sort of human Qah cell, but filled with Yuuzhan Vong information. It was a hybrid cell."
"And that worked," Tahiri replied, not sure what to think. It all sounded so clinical and logical like this, but it had, at the time, been quite literally torture.
"Correct. In terms of your brain tissue, you are quite literally half Yuuzhan Vong. We did not implant merely memories, but also the cells that carried them." Nen Yim must have figured out by now that when Tahiri's eyes narrowed like that it meant she was mad, because she asked, "Do you want me to stop?"
"No. I mean, yes," Tahiri said quickly, "but it's like picking a scab. In fact, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."
"I attend," Nen Yim said, and Tahiri didn't blame her for being cautious.
She took a deep breath before she asked. "I need to know -- was there a real Riina?"
"I'm sure there must have been," said Nen Yim, clearly surprised by the question. "The name was probably changed -- names are easy to change -- but the details of your childhood undoubtedly came from a real person. Such memories might be generated, I suppose, but there would be no reason to when they could be donated by any living Yuu-zhan Vong."
"Is she dead?"
"I've no idea. Mezhan Kwaad supplied the memory data. Only she could know who the donor was -- and of course, she's in no position to tell you." Because Tahiri had killed her, of course, but there was only curiosity in Nen Yim's expression . . . and the way the tendrils of her headdress curled. "Did it truly work? You remember being in a creche, and so on?"
"Some things like crystal, others muddier," Tahiri replied, nodding. "I remember once, my creche-mates -- P'loh and Zhul -- we took one of the scrubbing korsks and put it in the communal food area. It . . ."
"Ate all the i'fii," Nen Yim supplied.
"Yes," Tahiri said -- and frowned. "How did you know?"
It was Nen Yim's turn to look like she was on the spot. "Do you remember an incident involving a damaged fighting n'amiq?"
"I . . . wait." Tahiri shook her head, her frown deepening. "You mean those lizard-bird things the warriors used to fight against each other? I found one once. One of the warriors had abandoned it in the grand vivarium because it wouldn't fight. It was injured and I nursed it back to health. Then one of my creche-mates took it and fought it . . . I got there in time to see it die. It was torn to shreds. I thought it kept looking at me, pleading for help."
The tendrils of Nen Yim's headdress stilled along with her breathing, and Tahiri asked, "What's wrong?" She almost knew the answer before she heard it.
"Those are my memories."
Tahiri dropped her head and closed her eyes, going very, very silent for a long moment, drawing on several different Jedi meditations to compose herself. When she finally raised her head, her voice was calm and curious. "Whatever happened to P'loh?"
"She was assigned to Belkadan, and killed there," Nen Yim replied, clearly relieved.
"And Zhul?"
"Zhul is an adept on the worldship Baanu Ghezk, and so far as I know is well."
"And the young warrior who watched our dormitories in primary shaping?"
"Killed taking Yuuzhan'tar. They say he died bravely, crashing into an infidel ship even as his own disintegrated."
"He was nice," Tahiri offered quietly, rubbing her forehead.
"Yes, if such can be said of a warrior."
"As if I wasn't confused enough," Tahiri said with a strangled laugh, "now I find out I have friends on both sides of the war who died. Maybe I even killed one of them."
Nen Yim didn't have an answer for that, and Tahiri wouldn't have expected one anyway.
"I have a lot of questions to ask you," she went on, "but now isn't the time. I need . . . I need to absorb this."
Nen Yim nodded. "As do I -- I knew no more than you."
Tahiri scooted a few centimeters closer. "I forgave you, you know. Even before I knew this."
"I didn't ask for that."
"I know."
"But I'm glad."
They lapsed back into silence that got very awkward very quickly, until Tahiri asked her about the qahsa again, just to break it. It really did seem to work on the same principle as her own shaping -- it really could work, and of course they had to try.
Nen Yim reached for the qahsa -- and fell over convulsing, with a dazed expression twisting her face and her fingers still wrapped around the small sphere. Tahiri bolted forward to yank it out of her grip, but stopped, not wanting to make things worse if the connection was broken. On the other hand, the convulsions were getting more violent and if she didn't do something, Nen Yim might die.
Tahiri extended her Force senses; there was a blank space where Nen Yim was, the way it always felt when she tried to sense a Yuuzhan Vong, but the qahsa itself was vibrating with Force energy like a million voices speaking at once. She could feel the flow of power all around her, nearly intoxicating, and Nen Yim was beginning to bleed from the nostrils, and suddenly she was sure nothing she could do could possibly make things worse. She reached for the qahsa --
***
-- and woke up some time later, she wasn't sure how long, the smell of mint in her nostrils from whatever damp tissue-like thing Nen Yim was using to daub her forehead. She hurt all over, her tongue felt like a bloated grysh-worm, and she mumbled, "What happened?"
"I'm not certain," Nen Yim admitted. "When I ceased contact with . . . when it was over, I found you unconscious."
Tahiri blinked a couple of times. "I was trying to help you. I touched the qahsa, and there was this light-that's all I remember." With genuine concern she asked, "Are you okay?"
Nen Yim nodded. "As I have never been."
"So you made contact with Zonama Sekot?"
"Not with the living consciousness, no," Nen Yim said, smiling dazedly like someone who'd just been touched with some kind of religious fervor -- which, Tahiri realized, must be very close to the truth. "I think you are correct: one must have some connection to the Force for that. But the memories -- the memories alone nearly overwhelmed me." She stood. "I must beg your indulgence. I must meditate now. But I think-I believe I have the solution."
"To what?"
Still dazed, and smiling in a way that Tahiri was sure the shaper wasn't used to, Nen Yim replied, "Everything that concerns us."
[OOC: Oh, you know the drill. Still, yes, still adapted from The Final Prophecy by Greg Keyes; dialogue mostly intact, with narrative adjustments by me. Tahiri's random growth spurt is the fault of trickster_twin, momslilassassin, and new canon.]
"We can't stay here forever," Corran was saying. "I've been trying to think of a way to attract the attention of that Imperial frigate, if nothing else."
Tahiri turned the pingpear she'd picked over in her hands and looked down at her bare feet, frowning slightly. The trouser cuffs of her flightsuit seemed to be riding a couple of centimeters higher -- had she grown? "Any thoughts on how to go about that?"
He nodded. "Yes. I'll have to go to the one place I've been avoiding."
He meant the planet's giant hyperdrive -- the one on top of the ridge, that she'd discovered a few days ago, and they'd been trying to keep secret ever since for fear it would disillusion their Yuuzhan Vong companions. But it was the only sign of civilization around, and might have some kind of communications array at the very least.
"How do you think he'll react when he finds out what it is?" Tahiri asked.
Corran grunted. "You tell me."
Oh, probably about the same reaction she'd had on that first trip up to the ridge; Tahiri held up the pingpear. "It's like discovering a perfect piece of fruit has a nasty worm in it -- after you've already taken a few bites."
Corran nodded. "That's what I figured. Still, we have to do something, and I can't imagine he'd let me go without him, not as curious as he's been about it."
"How far away do you think it is? "
"I eyeball it at about twenty klicks."
"Yeah, that's what I figured, too," Tahiri said. "So when do we start?"
"We don't," Corran replied. "Harrar will go with me. I need you to stay and look after the other two."
Tahiri hissed out an exasperated breath. "Again? I'm sick of babysitting. Don't you trust them yet? They're completely moon-eyed over this place, both of them. Harrar is the one we ought to worry about."
"I do worry about Harrar. That's why I'm keeping an eye on him. But the other two -- they're still the enemy, Tahiri." He watched her carefully as he said that, but if he'd been expecting her to bristle Tahiri, listening carefully to the implication of his words, didn't. "No matter how well we seem to be getting along with them as individuals, we can't lose sight of the fact that our goals might be quite different."
"I understand that. It's just that Nen Yim and the Prophet are boring," she complained. "All they do is poke at bugs and twigs all day. Why don't you let me go and you stay here, if you think someone has to?"
"Because this is how I want it, that's why. Brush up on your meditation technique and practice your lightsaber footwork."
Ben was really rubbing off on her, because Tahiri practically whined, "That's all I've been doing for the past week!"
"Well, life is hard." That was really more sarcastic than it needed to be, Corran. "Sometimes you actually have to spend a week without going into battle. I'm sure you can handle it."
"Yes, sir," Tahiri replied, her voice flat with the lack of enthusiasm that came from being treated like a kid again.
He didn't seem to notice. "So Harrar and I will start in the morning. It shouldn't take us more than a day or a day and a half of walking, but I can't say how long it will be before I figure out if there's anything useful there -- maybe an hour, maybe days. I need you to stay alert here."
Tahiri rolled her eyes. "For what? Vicious fruit?"
Corran looked up at her with a keen-eyed expression that reminded her of his former CorSec days. "I don't know," he said. "But the longer we're here, the itchier I feel."
She huffed impatiently. "Maybe you're bored, too."
"It's more than that. I've got a bad feeling about this whole deal. But there's nothing I can do about it until I have some way to contact Luke."
"If he's still here," she countered.
"I think he is. I get occasional glimpses."
"So do I," Tahiri said, "especially of Jacen." She didn't like that at all. "But the Force doesn't care how far away they are. They could be back on Mon Calamari."
"That's not how it feels," Corran said -- practically snapped at her. "You're going to have to trust I've learned a thing or two over the years."
Startled by his reaction, Tahiri protested, "Corran, I know you're a more experienced Jedi than I am."
"Not the impression you give," he said bluntly.
"I'm sorry if I --" To her utter embarrassment, she realized she'd started to cry. "Sometimes I don't express myself very well, I think. I mean, I've just integrated two personalities. I don't have this all worked out yet."
"Hey, easy," Corran murmured. "I misunderstood you, that's all."
"No, no -- Corran, you're my hero," she tried to get out. "Ever since that time when you and Anakin and I . . . I thought we were friends, and then --" The more she talked, the dumber she thought she sounded, so maybe she should just shut up.
"I need more training," she blurted out when he tried to placate her. "Special training. Can't you see that? Why haven't you ever offered -- I mean, you know so much more than I do . . ." She realized she was shaking a little from nerves, and halfway couldn't believe she'd actually said it out loud.
She'd managed to render Corran kriffing Horn staring and speechless. "I never imagined you wanted anything like that from me."
"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, wondering how he could be so dense when he was so smart the rest of the time. "I need some sort of guidance, Corran. I might seem like I know what I'm doing, but I don't."
"I'm not a Master, Tahiri," Corran said gently. "There are Masters who would be happy to train you. Don't you have Jedi back at school who --"
"You have half a chance of understanding me," Tahiri said. "They don't." That wasn't the truth, exactly, but Master Katarn was way too intimidating, and she knew better than to think Master Skywalker's view of her wasn't going to be at least a little clouded.
"I think you're selling them short."
"Maybe," she replied, feeling like a kid. "Is that a no, then?"
"No," Corran said. "But it's not that simple. We'd have to ask Master Skywalker. And at the least it means you'll stop talking back and do what I say. Do you understand that?"
Part of that seemed like an awfully tall order. "You mean you'll take me on?"
"Provisionally, since there are no Masters around, and until I get Luke's yes or no on the matter -- if you agree to those conditions."
In that case, she'd better stop acting like a kid, so she rubbed her sleeve across her eyes and nodded. "I agree, then."
"Good. Then you stay here with Nen Yim and the Prophet. The end."
Tahiri even managed a smile. "Okay."
***
When she found Nen Yim a little while later, the shaper was examining a spherical object that looked like a qahsa but probably wasn't; Tahiri knew, because she'd watched her grow the thing. Tahiri had been watching Nen Yim a lot since they'd been here, which had probably been annoying at least at first.
Sitting down cross-legged near Nen Yim, she queried about this latest experiment -- an elaborate test of Tahiri's theory that the Force was regulating all the life on the planet.
"To explain," Nen Yim began, "I may have to speak of things that will upset you."
She'd wanted to know. And she hadn't. Her stomach twisted in anticipation and apprehension. "This concerns my own shaping, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
Tahiri took a breath. "Go on."
"There is a protocol -- the protocol of Qah -- which is used to integrate manufactured or borrowed memories into the brain tissue of Yuuzhan Vong life," Nen Yim said. "We use it often, mostly for rather mundane purposes --teaching ships to fly, for instance. But we also use it at times to enhance our own memories, to gain skills or knowledge without having to learn them. In the past, on rare occasions, we've used the protocol to replace entire personalities."
Tahiri's hand went up to rub at the back of her neck, feeling the circle of tiny round scars where the provoker spineray had once been attached. "Which is what you tried to do to me."
"Exactly. But the protocol of Qah did not work on your human tissues, naturally -- Yuuzhan Vong and human tissue are not sufficiently compatible for that." Nen Yim raised her hands and knotted them together in an odd gesture. "So instead we used your own brain cells to create a sort of human Qah cell, but filled with Yuuzhan Vong information. It was a hybrid cell."
"And that worked," Tahiri replied, not sure what to think. It all sounded so clinical and logical like this, but it had, at the time, been quite literally torture.
"Correct. In terms of your brain tissue, you are quite literally half Yuuzhan Vong. We did not implant merely memories, but also the cells that carried them." Nen Yim must have figured out by now that when Tahiri's eyes narrowed like that it meant she was mad, because she asked, "Do you want me to stop?"
"No. I mean, yes," Tahiri said quickly, "but it's like picking a scab. In fact, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."
"I attend," Nen Yim said, and Tahiri didn't blame her for being cautious.
She took a deep breath before she asked. "I need to know -- was there a real Riina?"
"I'm sure there must have been," said Nen Yim, clearly surprised by the question. "The name was probably changed -- names are easy to change -- but the details of your childhood undoubtedly came from a real person. Such memories might be generated, I suppose, but there would be no reason to when they could be donated by any living Yuu-zhan Vong."
"Is she dead?"
"I've no idea. Mezhan Kwaad supplied the memory data. Only she could know who the donor was -- and of course, she's in no position to tell you." Because Tahiri had killed her, of course, but there was only curiosity in Nen Yim's expression . . . and the way the tendrils of her headdress curled. "Did it truly work? You remember being in a creche, and so on?"
"Some things like crystal, others muddier," Tahiri replied, nodding. "I remember once, my creche-mates -- P'loh and Zhul -- we took one of the scrubbing korsks and put it in the communal food area. It . . ."
"Ate all the i'fii," Nen Yim supplied.
"Yes," Tahiri said -- and frowned. "How did you know?"
It was Nen Yim's turn to look like she was on the spot. "Do you remember an incident involving a damaged fighting n'amiq?"
"I . . . wait." Tahiri shook her head, her frown deepening. "You mean those lizard-bird things the warriors used to fight against each other? I found one once. One of the warriors had abandoned it in the grand vivarium because it wouldn't fight. It was injured and I nursed it back to health. Then one of my creche-mates took it and fought it . . . I got there in time to see it die. It was torn to shreds. I thought it kept looking at me, pleading for help."
The tendrils of Nen Yim's headdress stilled along with her breathing, and Tahiri asked, "What's wrong?" She almost knew the answer before she heard it.
"Those are my memories."
Tahiri dropped her head and closed her eyes, going very, very silent for a long moment, drawing on several different Jedi meditations to compose herself. When she finally raised her head, her voice was calm and curious. "Whatever happened to P'loh?"
"She was assigned to Belkadan, and killed there," Nen Yim replied, clearly relieved.
"And Zhul?"
"Zhul is an adept on the worldship Baanu Ghezk, and so far as I know is well."
"And the young warrior who watched our dormitories in primary shaping?"
"Killed taking Yuuzhan'tar. They say he died bravely, crashing into an infidel ship even as his own disintegrated."
"He was nice," Tahiri offered quietly, rubbing her forehead.
"Yes, if such can be said of a warrior."
"As if I wasn't confused enough," Tahiri said with a strangled laugh, "now I find out I have friends on both sides of the war who died. Maybe I even killed one of them."
Nen Yim didn't have an answer for that, and Tahiri wouldn't have expected one anyway.
"I have a lot of questions to ask you," she went on, "but now isn't the time. I need . . . I need to absorb this."
Nen Yim nodded. "As do I -- I knew no more than you."
Tahiri scooted a few centimeters closer. "I forgave you, you know. Even before I knew this."
"I didn't ask for that."
"I know."
"But I'm glad."
They lapsed back into silence that got very awkward very quickly, until Tahiri asked her about the qahsa again, just to break it. It really did seem to work on the same principle as her own shaping -- it really could work, and of course they had to try.
Nen Yim reached for the qahsa -- and fell over convulsing, with a dazed expression twisting her face and her fingers still wrapped around the small sphere. Tahiri bolted forward to yank it out of her grip, but stopped, not wanting to make things worse if the connection was broken. On the other hand, the convulsions were getting more violent and if she didn't do something, Nen Yim might die.
Tahiri extended her Force senses; there was a blank space where Nen Yim was, the way it always felt when she tried to sense a Yuuzhan Vong, but the qahsa itself was vibrating with Force energy like a million voices speaking at once. She could feel the flow of power all around her, nearly intoxicating, and Nen Yim was beginning to bleed from the nostrils, and suddenly she was sure nothing she could do could possibly make things worse. She reached for the qahsa --
***
-- and woke up some time later, she wasn't sure how long, the smell of mint in her nostrils from whatever damp tissue-like thing Nen Yim was using to daub her forehead. She hurt all over, her tongue felt like a bloated grysh-worm, and she mumbled, "What happened?"
"I'm not certain," Nen Yim admitted. "When I ceased contact with . . . when it was over, I found you unconscious."
Tahiri blinked a couple of times. "I was trying to help you. I touched the qahsa, and there was this light-that's all I remember." With genuine concern she asked, "Are you okay?"
Nen Yim nodded. "As I have never been."
"So you made contact with Zonama Sekot?"
"Not with the living consciousness, no," Nen Yim said, smiling dazedly like someone who'd just been touched with some kind of religious fervor -- which, Tahiri realized, must be very close to the truth. "I think you are correct: one must have some connection to the Force for that. But the memories -- the memories alone nearly overwhelmed me." She stood. "I must beg your indulgence. I must meditate now. But I think-I believe I have the solution."
"To what?"
Still dazed, and smiling in a way that Tahiri was sure the shaper wasn't used to, Nen Yim replied, "Everything that concerns us."
[OOC: Oh, you know the drill. Still, yes, still adapted from The Final Prophecy by Greg Keyes; dialogue mostly intact, with narrative adjustments by me. Tahiri's random growth spurt is the fault of trickster_twin, momslilassassin, and new canon.]