Star Wars: The New Jedi Order I: Vector Prime by R. A. Salvatore

Author:R. A. Salvatore
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Han (Fictitious Character), Solo, Leia, High Tech, Luke (Fictitious Character), Skywalker, Jade, Space Opera, Princess (Fictitious Character), Fiction, Star Wars Fiction, Science Fiction, my-books, Jaina (Fictitious Character), Adventure, Life on Other Planets, Jacen (Fictitious Character), General, Mara (Fictitious Character)
ISBN: 9780345428448
Publisher: Random House Digital, Inc.
Published: 1999-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

For Prefect Da’Gara, it was the moment of highest glory, honor, and spirituality, the epitome of his purpose, the reward for his efforts, the most welcomed task.

He stood alone on a pedestal before the yammosk, the creature’s massive eyes boring into him. Chanting the appropriate prayers to Yun-Yammka, he lifted his hand to gently touch the creature between those eyes, along a huge blue pulsating vein, the point of transference.

Then they were joined as one, the yammosk’s consciousness overwhelming Da’Gara’s. The prefect felt the binding power of the war coordinator, the purpose of its being, and through its sensitive energies, he felt the commune that was his task force, the Praetorite Vong.

Da’Gara fell deeper into the yammosk, gave it his feelings as it recited its own to him, and they knew they were of like mind. It was time to expand, to reach out and begin consuming vast reaches of the galaxy.

But first, they had to lure a portion of their enemies in, destroy the New Republic’s warships on a Yuuzhan Vong battleground, where the yammosk’s control and coordination were complete.

The prefect left the meeting both exhilarated and exhausted, physically drained but emotionally charged. He went right to his private quarters, to Yomin Carr’s villip, but then changed his mind and opened contact to Nom Anor instead.

The executor responded immediately.

“We reach out this day,” Da’Gara explained.

“Go with glory and victory,” came Nom Anor’s proper response. “Die as a warrior.”

Da’Gara snapped to attention. “We shall not dishonor the Yuuzhan Vong,” he answered, again the proper response. “Sernpidal dies this day.”

“And her people?”

“Many attempt flight, and there, our warriors will find their next challenge,” Da’Gara replied. “The war coordinator has dispatched four full battle groups to intercept and to give chase. They will allow the refugee convoy to lead them to the next planet in line, and there they will begin the open warfare.”

“Do-ro’ik vong pratte,” Nom Anor pronounced.

Da’Gara sucked in his breath at the bold proclamation. Do-ro’ik vong pratte was the war cry of the Yuuzhan Vong, the call for ferocity unbridled, the absolute releasing of the basest of warrior emotions. Under such a command, Yuuzhan Vong warriors became the hunter in the closing strides of the stalk, the purest killers.

“Do-ro’ik vong pratte,” Da’Gara agreed. “And woe to our enemies.”

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