The Final Prophecy by Greg Keyes Read Free Book Online Page B

death.”
    He clasped his hand behind him and regarded Lah. “We have the late leader of your domain to thank for this situation.”
    “Warmaster Lah conquered most of this galaxy,” Zhat Lah protested. “He gave us their capital, now our Yuuzhan’tar.”
    “Yes, and he spent warriors like so much vlekin doing so, and gave little thought as to how we would
hold
such vast territories.” He waved his hand. “Things are changing, Zhat Lah. Things
must
change. The infidels have adapted. They have undermined many of our strengths, but we haveundermined ourselves even more. The pride of our warriors weakens us.”
    “But the pride of our warriors is what we are,” Zhat Lah protested. “Without our pride, without our honor, we are as the infidels.”
    “And yet you retreated because you thought it best.”
    “Yes, Warlord,” he replied, his tone finally subdued. “But it was not … 
easy
. I take the stain on myself, yet there is a stain.”
    “Listen to me,” Nas Choka said. “We are the Yuuzhan Vong. We have been entrusted with the true way, the true knowledge of the gods. Our duty is to bring every infidel in this galaxy to heel and either send them screaming to the gods or bring them to the true path. There is no middle ground, there is no faltering. And there can be no failure. Our mission is more important than you or me, Commander, and it is more important than your honor or mine. Lord Shimrra himself has said it. And so, feel no stain. To win this war, we must set aside much we cherish. The gods ordain the sacrifice. We are blameless. We are those who do what must be done. And so I tell you again—you did the right thing.”
    Lah nodded, understanding lighting behind his eyes.
    “Now,” Choka went on, “these tactics—these feints and sudden withdrawals, these
strike-here-and-hide-there
maneuvers—what enables this? The infidels have no yammosk to coordinate their movements.”
    “They have communications, Warlord. Their HoloNet allows them to communicate instantaneously over the breadth of the galaxy.”
    “Precisely. But without their HoloNet, such precise coordination becomes much more difficult, yes?”
    Lah shrugged. “Of course,” he said. “But destroying the communications system is difficult,” he said. “There are many relay stations, not always placed so as to be easilyfound. When one is destroyed, another may function, and the infidels have managed to repair or replace many we have destroyed.”
    “The destruction of the HoloNet has never been a priority before,” Nas Choka said. “Now it is. And the gods have given the shapers a new weapon, one that should perfectly suit our needs.”
    “That is well, Warlord.”
    “It is.” He paced a moment.
    “I’m giving you a new battle group. You will remain here, at Yuuzhan’tar, on alert to strike quickly. The infidels are growing confident; they will attack again, soon. I can feel it. And when they do, we will have something new to show them. Something quite new.”

SEVEN
    Beneath the black sky of Yuuzhan’tar, Nen Yim moved invisibly. The guards at their posts did not blink as she passed; the singing ulubs stayed silent as she moved lightly across the grounds of the Supreme Overlord’s compound. Damuteks glowed with faint luminescence, and ships coming and going were pale viridian or blood-colored mists of light in the sky.
    Yuuzhan’tar had not always been dark at night. For millennia, it had been the brightest world in the galaxy, never knowing true darkness. Unliving metal had pulsed with unholy energies, hemorrhaging light and heat and noxious fumes to burn the womb of night.
    Now that unnatural work had been undone, and any brightness came from the stars alone. Tonight, not even they troubled the closed eyelids of the gods, for a tarp of cloud had been drawn overhead, blotting even the fierce beauty of the Core. So long controlled by machines, the climate of Yuuzhan’tar was also finding its natural state.
    To Nen