Hero's Trial: Agents of Chaos I Read Online Free PDF Page A

native species and cultures, planetary topography, population statistics, and in some cases defense capabilities.
    “It disheartens me to have to subject you to inert technology, Eminence,” Commander Tla’s tactician apologized, “but we have yet to discover a way to separate the data from the metallic shells that sustain them. And until our villips have had a chance to absorb the captured information, we have no choice but to make do with some of the enemy’s own machines. Each has been cleansed and purified, but I’m afraid there is simply no disguising their vacuity of spirit.”
    Though repulsed by the devices that had been conveyed to him, Harrar granted the tactician absolution. “To abhor a thing in ignorance is to fear it. A deeper understanding of machine nature will only firm my resolveto see machines exterminated.” He waved his abbreviated hand. “Proceed.”
    The tactician, Raff, inclined his tattooed head in a bow, then raised a bony, gloved hand to the animated hologram. “As you can see, Eminence, we have here nothing less than a portrait of the galaxy. In broad strokes to be sure, and yet detailed enough to aid us in our push toward the Core.”
    His protected forefinger made contact with the touch screen, and a representation of the Obroa-skai and neighboring star systems took shape in the cone of light.
    Scrawniness wasn’t confined to the tactician’s hands. Rail-thin wrists poked from the voluminous sleeves of his robe, and a spindly neck protruded like a baton from the robe’s high and equally spacious collar. Pledged in service to Yun-Yammka, the god of war, Raff had a mouth that was a black-stained maw, featuring an outsize tooth that sometimes wreaked havoc with the clarity of his speech. But it was his powers of rumination and analysis that counted most. Frequent rapport with war coordinators and dovin basals kept him abreast of nearly all aspects of the war, from details on individual New Republic warships to combat casualty statistics. In keeping with his abilities, his hairless and distended cranium was adorned with etchings suggestive of the eddies and convolutions of the enhanced brain contained within.
    “Unfortunately, the bulk of the liberated data is historical in nature and of dubious value. Obroa-skai dedicated itself to preserving cultural documents in the original languages and access formats.” The tactician gestured toward a levitated pallet stacked with blood-smeared durasheet texts, data cards, and other storagecontrivances, waiting to be slagged by holy fire. “Thus the need for such an endless array of decryption and translation devices. Even so, our assault on the library world was justified. Ultimately—and once rendered in villip speech—these documents will yield a wealth of information regarding the psychological makeup of many of these species, and that knowledge will be crucial to our maintaining control over conquered territories.”
    A male attendant, barefoot and sheathed in a long tunic, climbed the rough-hewn yorik coral steps of the command platform to place plates of food and a carafe of amber-colored liquid on the low table that separated the priest and the tactician. His pointed chin was etched in deep purple to suggest a beard, and the sacs under his closely set eyes were fully tattooed. His forehead sloped sharply back from a prominent brow and was in the same way covered with signs and designs.
    At the base of the platform a lone figure waited patiently in the shadows. Harrar bade the attendant prepare libations for himself, the tactician, and the figure below. He sipped his drink while he considered the tactician’s appraisal of the spoils of battle.
    Generations of travel in intergalactic space had taken a toll on many Yuuzhan Vong vessels—warships and worldships alike. Where their interiors had once been warmed by sumptuous curtains and carpets, and the monotony of their decks balanced by rich mosaic inlays, an austere coldness now