Star Wars - [New Jedi Order 18] - The Final Prophecy (by Greg Keyes)

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Star Wars
New Jedi Order
The Final Prophecy
by Greg Keyes
As the bestselling New Jedi Order series
approaches its epic climax, the secrets
of the Yuuzhan Vong - who they are,
where they came from, what terrible
forces drive them - are at last exposed.
But will this knowledge aid the Jedi...
or doom them?
PROLOGUE
Three kilometers beneath the surface of Yuuzhan'tar-the world once known
as Coruscant-the sound of chanting drifted up a shaft nearly as wide as it was
deep, the melan-choly strains yearning toward the few distant stars that could
be seen from the bottom. In the pale blue light of lumen reeds, the faces of
the chanters appeared ravaged, their bodies misshapen.
These were the Shamed Ones of the Yuuzhan Vong, and they chanted to their
Prophet.
Nom Anor felt his bile rise at the sight. Even after all this time as the
"Prophet," it was difficult to shake the long years of contempt he had held
for them.
But they were his hope, now. They were his army. Once, not long ago, he
had dared to dream that with them behind him he could pull Shimrra-Supreme
Overlord of the Yuu-zhan Vong-from his polyp throne, cast him into the pits,
and assume his place.
But there had been setbacks. His eyes and ears within Shimrra's palace
had been uncovered and killed. More of his followers were discovered every
day, and fewer answered the call.
Their faith was wavering, and it was time to give it back to them.
"Hear me!" he called, his voice soaring above the Prayer of Redemption.
"Hear the voice of prophecy!"
1
The chanting subsided, and an eager silence descended.
"I have fasted," he said. "I have meditated. Last night I sat here,
beneath the stars, waiting for I knew not what. And in the darkest hours, a
great light fell about me, a cleansing light, the light of redemption. I
looked up and there, where the stars gaze down upon us, was an orb-a world, a
planet in the skies above us. Its beauty made me tremble, and its power
pressed down on me. I felt love and terror at once. And then those emotions
subsided, and I felt-belonging. I knew that the planet itself was alive, wel-
coming me. It is the planet of the source, the planet of the Jeedai,their
secret temple and fount of their knowledge and wisdom-and I saw us, the
Shamed, walking with the Jeedai upon its surface, one with them, one with the
planet."
He dropped his tone from singsong to a near growl.
"And in the distance, I heard Shimrra's wail of despair, for he knows
this planet-this living planet-is our salvation and his doom. And he knows it
will come for him, one day, because it will come for us."
He lowered his hands, and for a moment the silence pre-vailed. Then a
great roar went up, keen and joyful, and Nom Anor heard what he most wanted to
hear-the sound of hope, the cry of the zealot-his name on the lips of a
multitude. What matter that he had put the story together from a few
conversations and rumors he had collected from Shimrra's palace before his
informant died? There was a planet, rumored to be alive in some unusual way.
Shimrra was terrified of it, and had had the commander who brought the news of
it slaughtered out of hand, along with all his crew.
His story would give his people hope. It would encourage them to fight.
And when they were captured, and told the prophecy to their punishers, it
would get back to Shimrra, and bring his fear back home.
Better, Nom Anor had heard from old sources in the Galactic Alliance that
the Jedi had mounted a search for just such a planet. What they wanted with it
he did not know, but it seemed the planet had repelled at least one Yuu-zhan
Vong battle group, so perhaps its people had potent weapons.
In any event, rumor would build on rumor, reinforcing the veracity of his
vision, strengthening the resolve of his followers, knitting their single
strands into ropes and the ropes into cables until they were strong enough to
knot around Shimrra's neck and strangle him.
Strength swept through him as the sound of his adopted name built toward
the heavens. He looked out over them, and this time was much less offended by
their faces.
PART ONE
VISION
ONE
She was being followed.
She paused and wiped a damp wisp of yellow hair from her forehead,
touching in passing the scars that marked her as a member of Domain Kwaad. Her
green eyes scanned through the many-legged gnarltrees, but her stalkers
weren't yet showing themselves to the usual senses. They were waiting for
something-reinforcements, probably.
She hissed a mild shaper's curse under her breath and started off again,
picking her way over moldering logs, through sluggish mists and dense brakes
of hissing cane.
The air was a wet fever, and the chirps and trills and bub-bling gulps
from canopy and marsh were oddly comforting.
She kept her pace the same-there was no reason to let them know she was
on to them, not yet. She did alter her path subtly-no point in going to the
cave until this was dealt with.
Or I could lead them there,she mused,attack them while they deal with
their inner demons...
No.
That seemed somehow like sacrilege. Yoda had come here. Luke Skywalker
had, too, and so had Anakin. Now it was her turn. Tahiri's turn.
Anakin's parents hadn't very much liked the idea of her coming to Dagobah
alone, but she'd managed to convince them of the necessity. She believed that
the human and Yuu-zhan Vong personalities that had once shared her body had
become one seamless entity. It felt that way, felt right. But Anakin had seen
a vision of her, a melding of Jedi and Yuu-zhan Vong, and it hadn't been a
pretty vision. She'd thought at first, after the joining that had nearly
driven her mad, that she had avoided that outcome. But before she moved on,
before she put those she loved at risk, she had to con-sider the possibility
that the fusion of Tahiri Veila with Riina of Domain Kwaad was a step in the
fulfillment of that vision.
Anakin, after all, had known her better than anyone. And Anakin had been
very strong.
If the creature he had seen was lurking in her, the time to face it was
now, not later.
So she'd come here, to Dagobah, where the Force was so strong it almost
seemed to sing aloud. The cycle of life and death and new birth was all around
here, none of it twisted by Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology, none of it poisoned by
the machines, greed, and exploitation all too native to this galaxy. She'd
come to visit the cave to explore her inner self and see what she was really
made of.
But she had also come to Dagobah to meditate on the alternatives. What
Anakin had seen was all of the worst of Yuuzhan Vong and Jedi traits bundled
into one being. Avoiding becoming that was paramount, but she had a goal
beyond-to find the balance, to embody the best of her mixed heritage. Not just
for herself, but because the reconciliation of her dual identity had left her
with one firm belief-that the Yuuzhan Vong and the peoples of the galaxy they
had invaded could learn a lot from each other, and they could live in peace.
She was sure of it. The only question was how to make it happen.
The Yuuzhan Vong would never create industrial waste-lands like Duro,
Bonadan, or Eriadu. On the other hand, what they did to life-breaking it and
twisting it until it suited their needs, wiping it out entirely when it didn't
please-was really no better. It wasn't that they loved life, but that they
hated machines.
There had to be some sort of common ground, some pivot point that could
open the eyes of both sides and end the ongoing terror and destruction of the
war. The Force was key to that understanding. The Yuuzhan Vong were somehow
blind to it. If they could actually feel the Force around them, if they could
feel the wrongness of their creations, they might find a better path, one less
bent on destruction. If the Jedi could feel the Yuuzhan Vong in the Force,
they might find-not better ways to fight them - but paths to conciliation.
She needed more than that, though. It wasn't enough to know what was
wrong-she also had to know how to make things right.
Tahiri had no delusions of grandeur. She was no savior, no prophet, no
super-Jedi. She was the result of a Yuuzhan Vong experiment gone wrong. But
she did understand both sides of the problem, and if there was any chance she
could help Master Skywalker find the solution her galaxy so des-perately
needed-well, she had to take it. It was a role she accepted with humility and
great caution. Those trying to do good often committed the most atrocious
crimes. They were gaining on her, getting clumsier. Soon she would have to do
something.
They must have followed her to Dagobah. How?
Or maybe they had known where she was going before she left. Maybe she
had been betrayed. But that meant Han and Leia-
No. There was another answer. Paranoid reflexes were a survival trait
growing up in a creche, but even deeper in-stincts told her that her friends-
a dopted parents, almost-could never do such a thing. Someone had been watching
her, someone she hadn't noticed. Peace Brigade maybe. Probably. They would
imagine they could curry a lot of favor by turn-ing her over to Shimrra.
She twisted her way through a maze of gnarltrees and then clambered
quickly and silently up their cablelike roots. They had once been legs, those
roots, as she'd learned when she came here less than a decade and more than a
lifetime ago. The immature form of the tree was a sort of spider that lost its
mobility in adulthood. She'd been with Anakin, here to face his trial, to
discover if having the name of his grandfather would bring him the same fate.
I miss you Anakin, she thought.
More now than ever.
About four meters off the ground, she secreted herself in a hollow and
waited. If she could simply avoid them, she would. At one level her instincts
cried out for battle, but at a deeper level she knew that her Yuuzhan Vong
fighting re-flexes had inevitable connections with fury, and she was here to
avoid becoming Anakin's vision, not embrace it.
There was a part of her plan that she hadn't told Han and Leia about-the
part where, if the cave confirmed her worst fears, she would cripple her X-
wing beyond repair and spend the rest of her life on the jungle planet.
Perhaps, like the spiders, she would sink her limbs into the swamp and
become a tree.
She reached out with the Force, to better assess her pursuit.
They weren't there. And she suddenly realized that she hadn't felt them
in the Force, but with her Vongsense. It had come so naturally she hadn't even
questioned it. That could only mean her pursuers were Yuuzhan Vong, maybe six
of them, give or take one or two. Vongsense wasn't as precise as the Force.
She reached for her lightsaber, but didn't unhook it, and continued to
wait.
Soon she actually heard them. Whoever they were, they weren't hunters-
they moved through the jungle clumsily, and though they pitched their voices
low enough that she couldn't actually understand what they were saying, they
seemed to be gabbling almost constantly. They must be very confident of their
success.
A dark shadow glided soundlessly through the under-growth, and she
snapped her gaze up in time to see some-thing very large blot the fragments of
sky not occluded by the distant canopy.
Native life, or a Yuuzhan Vong flier?
Pursing her lips, she waited. Soon the distant muttering became coherent.
As she'd thought, the language was that of her creche.
"Are you certain she came this way?" a raspy voice asked.
"She did. See? The impression in the moss?"
"She isjeedai. Perhaps she left these signs to confuse us."
"Perhaps."
"But you think she is near?"
"Yes."
"And knows we are following her?"
"Yes."
"Then why not simply call out to her?"
And hope I answer the battle challenge? Tahiri thought, grimly. So they
did have a tracker with them. Could she slip around them, back to her X-wing?
Or must she fight them?
Moving very slowly, Tahiri shifted in the direction of the voices. She
could make out several figures through the under-story, but not distinctly.
"At some point we must, I suppose," the tracker said.
"Else she will think we wish her harm."
What? Tahiri frowned, trying to fit that into her presuppositions. She
couldn't.
"Jeedai!" the tracker called. "I think you can hear us. We humbly request
an audience."
No warrior would do that, Tahiri thought. No warrior would use such
honorless trickery. But a shaper... Yes, a shaper or a priest might, a member
of the deception sect. Still...
She leaned out for a better view, and found herself staring straight into
the yellow eyes of a Yuuzhan Vong.
He was perhaps six meters away. She gasped at the sight of him, and
revulsion jolted through her. His face was like an open wound.
A Shamed One, despised by the gods. He dared-her hand went to her
lightsaber.
Then the shadow was back, and suddenly something sleeted through the
branches, shredding the leaves and vines around her. She snarled a war cry and
ignited her weapon, swirling it up to send two thud bugs burning off through
the jungle.
Above her, through the now open canopy, she saw a Yuu-zhan Vong tsik vai,
an atmospheric flier, huge and ray-shaped, and from it snaked long cables. To
each cable clung a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. One passed less than two meters from
her, and she braced for the fight, but he went on past, oblivious to her
presence, striking the jungle floor and uncoiling his amphistaff in the same
motion.
A terrible wail went up from her pursuers. She could see them now, all
horribly disfigured, all Shamed Ones. They raised their short clubs and faced
the warriors.
They didn't have a chance-she saw that immediately.
For an instant, the tracker held her eye, and she thought he would give
her away, but instead his expression went grim.
"Run!" he shouted. "We cannot win here!"
Tahiri hesitated only an instant longer, then made a series of steplike
leaps to the ground. The first of the Shamed Ones had already fallen when her
feet touched the spongy soil.
A warrior caught her motion from the corner of his eye and turned to meet
her, snarling a war cry. His face transfig-ured in surprise when she answered
it in his own language.
He whirled his amphistaff toward her, a lateral strike aimed at her
scapula. She caught the blade and cut toward his knuckles, but he parried with
distance, pulled his weapon free of the bind, and lunged deep with the
venomous tip. She caught it in a high sweep and stepped in, cut to his
shoulder where the vonduun crab armor shed its fury in a shower of sparks,
then dodged past, reversing the weapon and plung-ing its fiery point into the
vulnerable spot in the armpit. The warrior gasped and sank to his knees, and
she whipped the weapon around to decapitate him even as she launched herself
at the next foe.
Combat was a blur, after that. Eight warriors had dropped from the flier.
Seven were left, and fully half the Shamed Ones were bleeding on the ground.
She had an image of the tracker, his arms knotted in a neck-breaking hold. She
saw another Shamed One strike a warrior on the temple with his club only to be
run through from behind.
Mostly she saw the lightning-quick amphistaff strikes of the two warriors
trying to flank her. She cut at a knee, smelled the scorch of flesh as the
blade severed through armor. An amphistaff whipped toward her back and she had
to roll be-neath the blow.
Parry, thrust, and cut became her entire existence.
Spattered with Yuuzhan Vong blood and bleeding from several cuts of her
own, she suddenly found herself back to back with the tracker. He was all that
remained of the six who had initially been following her, but there remained
only three warriors.
For a moment, they stood like that. The warriors backed away a bit. The
leader was massive. His ears were cut into fractal patterns; great trenchlike
scars stood on his cheeks.
"I've heard of you, abomination," he snarled. "The one-who-was-shaped. Is
it true what they say? These pathetic maw luur excretions worship you?"
"I don't know anything about that," Tahiri said. "But I know when I see a
dishonorable fight. They were not only outnumbered, but poorly armed. How can
you call yourselves warriors, to attack in such a way?"
"They are Shamed Ones," the warrior sneered back.
"They are outside honor. They are worse than infidels; they are heretic
traitors, not to be fought but to be extermi-nated."
"You fear us," the tracker rasped. "You fear us because we know the
truth. You lap at Shimrra's feet, yet Shimrra is the true heretic. See how
this Jeedai has laid you low. The gods favor her, not you."
"If the gods favor her, they do not favor you," the war-rior snapped.
"They are delaying us," the tracker told Tahiri. She no-ticed he had
blood on his lips. "They delay us while another tsikvai arrives."
"Quiet, heretic," the war leader bellowed, "and you may yet live to
snivel a little longer. There are questions we would ask of you." His
expression softened. "Renounce your heresy. This Jeedai is a great prize. Help
us win her, and perhaps the gods will forgive you and grant you an honorable
death."
"No death is more honorable than dying by the side of a Jeedai" the
tracker answered. "Vua Rapuung proved that."
"Vua Rapuung," the warrior all but spat. "That story is a heretic's lie.
Vua Rapuung died in disgrace."
For answer the Shamed One suddenly bolted forward, so quickly he took the
leader by surprise, bowling into him be-fore he could raise his weapon. The
other two turned to help, but Tahiri danced forward, feinting at the knee and
then cutting high through the warrior's throat when he dropped his guard to
parry. She exchanged a flurry of blows with the second, though it ended the
same, with the warrior flopping lifeless to the ground.
She turned to find the tracker impaling the leader with his own
amphistaff. For a moment they stared at each other, the Shamed One and she.
Then the Yuuzhan Vong suddenly dropped to his knees.
"I prayed it was you!" he said.
Tahiri opened her mouth, but heard the stir of treetops that could only
be another flier arriving.
"Come on," she said. "We can't stay here."
The warrior nodded and bounded to his feet. Together they ran from the
clearing.
An hour or so later, Tahiri finally halted. The fliers see med to have
lost them for the time being, and the tracker had been gradually dropping
behind. Now he staggered against a tree and slid to the ground.
"A little farther," she said. "Just over here."
"My legs will no longer bear me," the tracker said. "You must leave me
for the time being."
"Just under this shelf of stone," she said. "Please. It may hide us from
the fliers if they sweep here." He nodded wearily. She saw he was clutching
his side, and that blood covered his flank.
They scooted up beneath the overhang.
"Let me see that," she said.
He shook his head. "I must speak to you first," he said.
"What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"
His eyes widened. "No!" he said, so vehemently that blood sputtered from
between his lips. Then, more quietly,
"No. We thieved a ship from an intendant and came here to find the world
of prophecy. We saw you land-is this the place, one-who-was-shaped? Is this
the world the Prophet saw?"
"I'm sorry," Tahiri said. "I don't know what you mean. This is Dagobah. I
came here for... personal reasons."
"But it cannot be coincidence," the tracker said. "It cannot."
"Please," Tahiri said. "Let me see your wound. I know a little about
healing. Maybe I can..."
"I am dead already," the tracker gruffed. "I know this. But I must know
if I have failed."
Tahiri shook her head helplessly.
The tracker straightened a bit, and his voice strength-ened. "I am Hul
Qat, once a hunter. Or I was, until the gods seemed to reject me. I was
stripped of my title, my clan. I was Shamed. My implants festered and my scars
opened like wounds. I gave up hope and waited for dishonorable death. But then
I heard the word of the Prophet, and of the Jeedai Anakin..."
"Anakin," Tahiri whispered. The name twisted a blade in her.
"Yes, and you, whom Mezhan Kwaad shaped. And Vua Rapuung who fought-you
were there, were you not?"
A deep chill ran through Tahiri. She had been Riina, then, and Tahiri,
and she had nearly killed Anakin.
"I was there."
"Then you know. You know our redemption belongs with you. And now the
Prophet has seen a world, a world where there are no Shamed Ones because it
will redeem us, where the true way can be-" He coughed violently and slumped
again, and for an instant Tahiri thought he was al-ready dead. But then his
eyes turned toward her.
"My companions and I wanted to find the planet for our Prophet. One of
us, Kuhqo, had been a shaper. He used a genetic slicer to get access to an
executor's qahsa and steal its secrets. He found intelligence gathered about
the Jeedai, and evidence that there was some connection between you and this
world. Some of your greatest came here, yes? And now you. And so please, tell
me. Have I found it?"
He shuddered, and his eyes rolled. "Have I?" he begged again, so weakly
this time it might have been no more than a breath.
Tahiri reached out and took his hand. "Yes," she lied, not even knowing
exactly what lie she was telling. "Yes, you're right. You found it. Don't
worry about anything now." His eyes filled with tears. "You must help me," he
said. "I cannot take the news myself. The Prophet must know where this world
is."
"I will do it," Tahiri said.
This time she was not lying.
Hul Qat closed his eyes, and even without using the Force, Tahiri felt
him leave.
Tahiri glanced at the opening of the cave, so near, and she knew that was
not what she had come for at all. This was why she had come. The Force had
brought her here, to meet this man, to make this promise.
She rose. The fliers would find her if she remained still for too long.
She hoped they hadn't discovered her ship yet, but figured the odds were
against it, since they hadn't been looking for her and she had concealed it
pretty well. Even so, she might have a little trouble getting out of the
system, depending on how many and what sort of ships were or-biting overhead.
It didn't matter, though. She had a promise to keep. Even if she could
figure out exactly what she had promised.
TWO
The port shields of Mon Mothma collapsed and plasma punched through the
hull like a fist through flimsiplast. At the point of impact, matter became
ions, and supersonic droplets of molten hull metal sleeted through the next
four decks, arriving before the sound or vibration of impact, shredding the
frail life-forms within before their nervous systems had time to register
anything amiss. Behind that came a shock wave of superheated air expanding
with such fury that blast shields bent and warped, and the wave-front swept
the decks end to end, searing everything in its path. Two hundred sentient
beings winked out in an instant, and a hundred more in marginal areas fell-
perforated, burned, or both.
Then, like a giant taking back its breath, space sucked everything out
through the gaping hole, leaving vacuum be-hind, and quiet.
At the helm of the Star Destroyer, it was far from quiet. Claxons blared
and panicked young officers stuttered through emergency procedures. Simulated
gravity vanished, and someone shrieked.
Wedge Antilles closed his eyes as the illusion of weight faded and
reasserted itself.
I'm so tired of this,he thought.
He opened his eyes to a barrage of smaller plasma blasts aimed directly,
it seemed, at his face as a squadron of Yuuzhan Vong coralskippers made a run
straight at the bridge. Turbo-lasers flared three of them into debris. The
rest peeled away at the last instant to avoid impacting the still-functioning
bridge shields.
Wedge didn't even blink. The skips weren't their problem right now. That
would be the Yuuzhan Vong Dreadnaught analog that had just popped into
existence and blasted a hole in their side.
"Twenty degrees starboard and twelve above horizon," Wedge commanded.
"Now. Commence firing."
He swung on the lieutenant at tactical. "What else has joined our little
party?" he demanded.
"Four frigate analogs, sir," the lieutenant told him.
"Coralskippers-we're not sure how many flights, yet. And of course, the
Dreadnaught. Sir, I'd say the Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements have arrived."
"Yes. We'll wait a bit to see if there are any more. Tell Memory of Ithor
to watch our wounded flank. We'll have to slug this out."
His whole body itched at the prospect. In his heart and in the caves of
his reflexes, Wedge was a starfighter pilot. Sure, capital ships had
firepower, but they were so slow maneuvering. He'd feel a lot better in an X-
wing. He'd feel better without the weight of dead crew on his shoulders.
Losing a wingmate was hard enough. Losing two hundred...
But he wasn't in an X-wing, and when he'd come out of retirement as a
general, he'd known what he was getting himself into. So he watched, lips
pursed, as the monstrous ovoid of a ship swung into view, as the Mothma's
turbolasers razoring toward yorik coral returned blossoms of plasma. Most of
the lasers arrowed straight, then abruptly curved into sharp hooks and
vanished as the tiny singularities the Yuuzhan Vong vessel projected pulled
the light into them. About every third beam went through, however, scribbling
glowing red lines in the coral hull.
"Sir, the Memory is unable to come to our aid. She's engaged with one of
the frigates, and she's taking quite a beating."
"Well, get somebody there. We can't let them hit us in that flank again."
The controller looked up from his station. "Sir, Duro Squadron is
requesting the honor of protecting our flank." Wedge hesitated
infinitesimally. Duro Squadron was a bit; of a wild card, a collection of
pilots-some with military experience, some without-dedicated to the liberation
of their home system.
The fact that it was precisely that system they were fighting in right
now could be a problem, for various reasons.
But it didn't look like he had any other choice.
"Tell them yes, without our thanks," Wedge said.
"Three more ships just reverted, sir," Lieutenant Cel in-formed him, a
catch in her voice that might be the start of panic.
"That's it," Wedge said. "Or it had better be. Get me General Bel Iblis."
A moment later, a hologram of the aging general appeared.
"The reinforcements are here," Wedge told him. "Listening posts have them
coming through the Corellian Trade, Spine, so they're most likely our buddies.
"
"Is it too many to handle, General Antilles?" Bel Iblis asked.
"I hope not, sir. Is your force ready?"
"We're on our way. Good luck, General."
"And to you."
The image vanished. Wedge set his mouth grimly, watch-ing the battle
reports.
They had already spent a standard day in heavy fighting, driving through
the outer defenses of the Duro system in a matter of hours. The inner system
had put up more of a fight, but they'd been close to mopping up when Yuuzhan
Vong reinforcements arrived.
Wedge had been expecting the reinforcements-counting on them, really-but
they'd hit hard and fast. A reassess-ment of the situation put the odds
marginally in favor of the Yuuzhan Vong, which again was no surprise.
It was also okay-they hadn't come here to win, but they couldn't leave
yet, either.
"Prepare interdiction," Wedge said.
Four more Yuuzhan Vong frigates jumped into the Duro system, changing the
odds yet again.
"Sir?"
"Interdict," he said.
The great ship's gravity-well generators came on-line, as did those of
Memory oflth or and Olovin.
Positioned as they were around the Yuuzhan Vong force, they would prevent
the Vong from leaving the system, at least until the interdiction perimeter
was reduced to dust.
Of course, none of the Galactic Alliance ships could leave, either.
"Break off the attack and form up in containment posi-tions," Wedge said
calmly. "I don't want any of those ships reaching hyperspace."
"What about Duro, sir?" Cel asked.
"Duro is no longer our concern, Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir," Cel said, clearly baffled.
Good. If his own people were confused, hopefully the Vong were more so.
The Alliance ships broke off their push toward the planet and retreated
into a broad hemisphere, putting the Yuu-zhan Vong fleet with the planet at
its back, handing them back the defensive advantage that Wedge's earlier push
had taken from them, but also trapping them more securely in the system.
"Hold the line," Wedge commanded. "We stick here." Spreading the battle
group so thinly gave the Yuuzhan Vong an obvious advantage, but the Vong ships
seemed to hesitate, perhaps suspecting another of the traps they had been so
often led into lately.
Still, caution was not natural to the Yuuzhan Vong, and they now clearly
had the advantage in numbers. Several de-stroyers began forming up for an
assault on the wall the Galactic Alliance had built.
"Do they have any interdictors of their own?" Wedge asked.
"No, sir."
"Good."
"Yes, sir. Sir, Commander Yurf Col is requesting com-munication."
Wedge repressed a sigh. "Put him on."
A moment later a holo of the Duros commander ap-peared. His flat face was
unreadable in terms of human expression, but Wedge had enough experience with
Duros to know he was radiating a cold fury.
"Commander," Wedge said, nodding.
The Duros came bluntly to the point.
摘要：

StarWarsNewJediOrderTheFinalProphecybyGregKeyesAsthebestsellingNewJediOrderseriesapproachesitsepicclimax,thesecretsoftheYuuzhanVong-whotheyare,wheretheycamefrom,whatterribleforcesdrivethem-areatlastexposed.ButwillthisknowledgeaidtheJedi...ordoomthem?PROLOGUEThreekilometersbeneaththesurfaceofYuuzhan'...

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