From the bridge of Yammka, Nas Choka surveyed the ruins of the occupation forces from Fondor. They weren’t much to look at.
He turned slowly to face Zhat Lah.
“How did this happen?” he asked. His voice was low, pitched only for the commander.
“Duro was attacked, Warmaster, as our intelligence suggested it would be. The executor there requested reinforcements. My men were hungry for battle, and I complied.” His eyes narrowed. “Then they came. I recalled the ships when I understood the ploy, but they were prevented from leaving the Duro system by their interdictors. The infidels kept our forces pinned in the planet’s gravity well and then fled. They are cowards!”
“Are you telling me cowards took the system you were entrusted with from you? You were beaten by cowards?”
“Warmaster, we were outnumbered. We fought until there was no hope.”
“No hope?” Nas Choka asked, in scathing tones. “You were yet alive, and had ships, and say there was no hope? Are you Yuuzhan Vong?”
“I am Yuuzhan Vong,” Zhat Lah growled.
“Then why did you not fight to the last? Might you not have taken a few more of their ships with you to the gods?”
“A few, Warmaster.”
“Then why did you flee? Where is the honor in that?”
Zhat Lah’s split lips twitched. “If the warmaster wishes my life, it is his to give to the gods.”
“Of course. But I asked you for an explanation.”
“I thought our remaining ships might serve better than to be cut to pieces in a battle we could not win.”
“Did you?” Nas Choka asked. “You had no thought for your own life?”
“My life belongs to the gods. They may take it as they will. I do not flinch from death. If the warmaster wishes me to take my personal coralskipper back to Fondor, I will die in battle. But given the numbers, the rest of my ships would have been destroyed with relatively little damage done to the enemy. If this was wrong, the responsibility is mine. My men own none of it.”
Nas Choka looked back out at the wreckage.
“Two frigates, all but undamaged. A battle cruiser with only minimal damage.” He turned to Lah. “You did well,” he said.
The commander’s eyes widened fractionally with surprise.
“We have spread ourselves too much, over too many star systems,” Nas Choka said. “We have lost too many ships because too many commanders have no more sense of strategy than to fight to the 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 have undermined 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 easily found. 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.”