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“A good question. Sit.” Czulkang Lah walked around to stand before his students. “The answer is as you suspect. For our theoretical tactician to think like the enemy is to be infected with his wrongness. If the infection is not too great, the tactician can cure himself by reimmersion in our ways. If the infection is too great, he can find a way to die honorably, knowing that his sacrifice has enriched us. So his infection is not a problem unless he passes it on to others. Remember—and this is the lesson that the enemy on Coruscant did not understand—individual survival is not important. As soon as you dispassionately place yourselves among those whom you are willing to send to certain death, you take another step toward strategic wisdom.” He glanced past the ranks of his students at the figure, a distant silhouette, who had just entered the coral-lined chamber. “We are finished for now. Go.”

They rose and marched, nearly silent on bare feet, from the chamber, glancing but not staring at the visitor, who remained at the rear, in the shadows, wrapped in a voluminous cloak.

When they were gone, Czulkang Lah moved forward. “Is it you?”

Tsavong Lah unwrapped himself from his cloak.

“Father.”

Czulkang Lah offered a nod of acknowledgment. “Son. Or is your visit as warmaster?”

Tsavong Lah moved to stand beside his father. “As warmaster and son. As son I ask, how do you fare?”

Czulkang Lah bared his teeth; their irregular and broken lines had been glimpsed through his slitted lips previously, but were now clearly revealed. “How do you think? I am old. But for my augmented armor, I could barely move. Aches befall me that have nothing to do with the marks I have put on myself over the years. And I am little but an honored prisoner here, unable to lead, and begged by my son not to die.”

“This has changed.”

“You no longer wish me to teach?”

“I wish you to lead.”

Czulkang Lah did not bother to conceal his surprise. He leaned away from his son as if the few centimeters of additional distance would give him a better view. “Tell me.”

“We have been somewhat embarrassed by a garrison defending a world at a hyperspace crossroads. Borleias, I am sure you know her.”

“Pyria system. Staging point for the assault on Coruscant.”

“Correct. The garrison defends the world with savagery and tactical brilliance. We are not sure why. Examination of one of their technical facilities in the system we captured indicates that they are developing something there, some new weapon to use against us, but unfortunately their scientists were able to destroy most of the evidence before they fled. The resources they bring to bear, tactics I cannot explain, all suggest that something is afoot there. I need someone to go there, root out the mystery, and then destroy the garrison … and to do so in such a way that our embarrassment is forgotten and theirs is legendary.”

“No. Find someone else.”

“Why?”

“When I succeed, it will have been just a bittersweet taste of what I once knew. I will not do this unless, once all is done, I retain a command, return to what I know best.”

Tsavong Lah hesitated, and Czulkang Lah continued. “You fear that I will bind the loyalties of officers, of whole domains, to me, and take from you the rank you once took from me. But I will not. I opposed you years ago because I opposed coming to this galaxy, attacking these infidels. But we are here now. I have no reason to oppose you, plot against you. All I demand is that you give me a reason to continue living.”

His son hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “When Borleias has fallen, you will retain command, and the stories of new exploits will be added to your legend, as they should be. For now, I wish you to take Domain Hul and all her resources to the Pyria system and do what I have described.”

“It will be done.” After a moment, Czulkang Lah added, “I am pleased that you came in person to ask.”

“No matter what our disagreements, you remain a hero to the Yuuzhan Vong, and to your son. I owe you no less.”

NINE

Deep-Space Rendezvous