Captain Makeno gritted his teeth as the nearest Star Destroyer to the Dominion fleet began pouring fire onto the Raider-class corvette and reluctantly turned to face the swarm of TIE fighters from the closest Dreadnought.
"Damage report?" he asked the pilots as the ship shuddered from a direct hit.
"Hull and systems intact," the lead pilot replied tersely, not even glancing at the source of the question. "Prepare for boarding."
"Always ready," muttered the commander of the special forces unit, sliding an energy cell into his assault rifle. "Don't mess this up."
"Lecture your own spec ops, Captain," advised the grizzled lieutenant commanding the starship. "My boys know their job."
"No one's doubting that," Orsan replied sincerely.
He stood on the corvette's bridge, watching as the massive Star Destroyer loomed ever larger in the viewport.
And he noticed flickers of light emerging from beneath the ship's hull.
"Looks like we've got X-wings," he observed.
"Missiles to battle stations!" ordered the corvette's commander.
The Raider, maintaining its speed, unleashed a salvo from its launch tubes, sending multiple shaped-charge missiles toward the enemy.
The Republic fighters began evasive maneuvers to avoid the attack, but it helped them little.
The missiles' homing warheads had their own opinion on who would live and who would be allowed to flee.
One salvo—and ten of the twelve X-wings disintegrated into fragments, flaring briefly like tiny stars.
The corvette tilted to one side, adding its own cannon fire to incinerate the last remnants of the Republic squadron.
The Raider surged forward—toward the less mobile first line of Imperial ships, which, according to scanner data, were sparsely crewed.
The second "line" of ships, realizing that some of their number had been knocked out by the Dragons' fire from the center of the Dominion formation, suddenly "came alive," no longer resembling barely operational monitors.
Medium turbolasers began hammering the deflector shields with a staccato rhythm, but the pilots deftly maneuvered the ship out of the danger zone, dodging ion cannon shots in the process.
The starship, utilizing its main and maneuvering thrusters, came to a halt near the upper section of the target's superstructure.
A low hum signaled the docking with the emergency airlock.
"Good hunting," the corvette's commander wished the special forces commander.
"Don't catch a cold," Orsan smirked, donning his helmet and securing it.
Reaching the airlock chamber took only a few minutes.
By the time he arrived, all forces assigned to capture the ship were in position, awaiting the order to assault.
Five special forces operatives, including the captain himself, a company of stormtroopers, and droids.
An endless stream of B-2s and droidekas filled most of the corridor space.
Compared to these killing machines, even the heavily armored special forces and stormtroopers seemed like overgrown children given toy weapons to play with.
Further back, all the way to the hold, thousands of B-1 droids awaited their moment, crammed into every available space on the ship.
This was true for every corvette designated for boarding Imperial-designed ships.
"Magnetic locks breached," the team's slicer reported, gesturing to his datapad. "Shall we proceed?"
Orsan ensured that nothing and no one, aside from the droids, stood in the path of potential fire from the ship they were ordered to capture.
"Begin," he commanded, lowering his armored visor.
At the slicer's command, the heavy emergency doors slid apart.
Simultaneously, on the Republic side of the airlock corridor, smoke grenades thrown by the special forces clattered to the floor, hissing and writhing, instantly obscuring the defenders' ability to see or effectively resist.
Starship crews were ill-equipped to repel boarding actions—that was the job of specialized special forces or naval infantry units.
The crew members had entirely different roles and responsibilities.
Given that this "forward detachment" was likely intended to be disabled by the Dominion's ion cannons, it was improbable that a specialized unit was onboard…
Then the first droid at the entrance took a crimson blaster bolt to its barrel-shaped chest.
Then two more.
Then five.
Each shot struck critical components, ensuring the droid's immediate deactivation.
The machine collapsed onto the deck with a crash, without firing a single shot.
"Alright," Captain Makeno said, assessing the damage to the battle droid, "looks like we've got someone to fight. Forward!" he ordered the mechanical army tasked with bearing the brunt of the assault.
The Dominion's B-2s, synchronously raising their right manipulators with built-in blasters, unleashed a barrage of suppressive fire on the enemy.
The droids' artificial eyes—photoreceptors—were unaffected by the smoke from a few grenades.
They knew no fear or pain.
They had their orders and carved through enemy defenses like a heated knife through ice.
The metallic tread of the armored death machines swept away the defenders of the emergency airlock and their hastily erected barricades.
Blaster fire flowed like rivers, and the groans of the wounded were drowned out by the screams of the dying.
First the droids, then the droidekas, expanding the breach with swift, crushing advances, overwhelmed the enemy squads.
The special forces pushed toward the bridge, while the stormtroopers conducted a sweep.
Two minutes—and the deck adjacent to the emergency airlock was cleared of Republic defenses.
The corridors echoed with the metallic clank of droid feet and the hum of rolling droidekas rushing toward all critical sections of the ship.
The stormtrooper squads, without unnecessary fuss, divided zones of responsibility, following the droidekas deeper into the Star Destroyer's interior.
"Reactor compartment secured," Makeno heard the voice of the stormtrooper company commander. "Main and auxiliary power systems cleared. Enemy eliminated."
This meant there was no need to fear the ship's self-destruction.
The B-2s established a solid defense of key decks and compartments, while the droidekas continued patrolling and neutralizing the enemy.
Unafraid of blasters or heavy Republic weaponry—their deflector shields could withstand far worse.
The droidekas were relentless—their memory banks contained the identification data of the boarding team. Anyone not matching that description was terminated on the spot.
Orsan fired a burst into the head of a New Republic soldier who had leapt out from the command center.
With his team, he moved toward the fighting breaking out at the far end of the superstructure, unaware that Dominion special forces had already flanked the enemy.
More Republic soldiers poured out of the bridge doors.
They were ready for a firefight, but it didn't save them from the fire of the droideka assigned to the special forces.
Its heavy blasts pierced the enemy clean through, forcing some of the Republic squad to retreat back to where they came from.
Taking advantage of the enemy's inability to even peek out from the bridge, the five special forces operatives closed in on their target.
The Republic soldiers tried to manually seal the bridge doors, but to no avail.
The electronics refused to obey.
The reason was as clear as a Tatooine day.
"Central computer under control," reported one of the sergeants.
"Auxiliary command post captured."
"Artillery crews eliminated."
"Engine compartment cleared."
Reports came in like a flood.
Orsan didn't let them distract him, knowing how effectively the 501st Legion's stormtroopers operated.
The "Fist of Thrawn" led the first wave, securing more trophies for the Dominion.
At Orsan's signal, one of the special forces operatives tossed a flash-bang grenade into the bridge.
The black-armored soldiers shielded their eyes—the blinding flash, accompanied by a deafening ring that drowned out all other sounds, demoralized the enemy.
The special forces charged.
Assault rifles fired with deadly precision, cutting down anyone in their path with short bursts.
Orsan knocked a human Republic officer to the ground with an elbow strike, noticing the command insignia on their uniform.
A valuable prisoner.
The enemy tried to strike blindly, but a solid hook to the jaw left them unconscious.
Dominion special forces gunned down naval personnel resisting with their standard-issue weapons.
In the "pits," the characteristic sounds of death echoed as sentients perished—the soldiers spared no one who attempted to use blasters or lethal weapons against them.
"Order your men to surrender," Orsan twisted the captured commander's wrist, speeding up the conversation.
The Republic officer resisted, only to have the glowing barrel of a blaster rifle pressed against their chest.
"Now!" Orsan barked in their face.
After a brief but painful "discussion," the enemy commander used the ship's commlink to relay the demanded message.
The sounds of battle quieted across the ship.
The surviving New Republic soldiers, the remnants of the small crew, realized that fighting the Dominion's boarding machine was futile.
Fifteen minutes after the assault began, the first "Imperial" Star Destroyer ceased to be a Republic vessel.
Hundreds of B-1 droids, with their grating vocal synthesizers, spread out across the starship to take up positions as the skeleton crew.
The captured Republic personnel—those wise enough not to stand in the way of a battle-hardened professional army—marched dejectedly toward the ship's barracks under stormtrooper escort.
Until the battle's end, they faced the unenviable fate of isolation under the watch of several droidekas and battle droids, with orders to eliminate any escape attempts.
Captain Makeno, receiving reports from all teams, observed as naval specialists arrived on the bridge to operate the ship, its crew now consisting of B-1 droids.
"Set course for the Acclamators," Orsan reminded the officer with lieutenant's insignia.
"I know, sir," the officer replied calmly. "There, we'll receive the minimum droid crew needed for transit."
"Exactly," Makeno confirmed. "Stormtroopers and battle droids will remain with you until the journey's end to ensure the safety of the prisoners and the ship…"
"I appreciate the reminder of my orders, Captain," the lieutenant said. "But it's unnecessary. I know how to command a ship and what the Grand Admiral's plan entails."
The special forces operative glanced at the smug naval officer, nodded silently, and headed for the exit, where his team awaited.
"What a know-it-all," he grumbled. "Knows the Grand Admiral's plan. Wish I knew it too!"
"Any issues, Commander?" asked the deputy team leader.
"Back to the corvette. We pick up a new batch of stormtroopers and droids, and keep this party going," the special forces commander gestured to his team that their work here was done.
***
The Vice-Admiral received a datapad with preliminary operational reports from a silent watch officer.
Quickly scanning the screen, he nodded with satisfaction before handing the device to the commander.
It took Grand Admiral Thrawn only a few minutes of focused reading to review the contents and return the datapad to the Chimaera's commander.
"As you can see," Grand Admiral Thrawn said, "the loss of three destroyers, while unfortunate for the Dominion, is not critical. Our boarding teams are making progress."
"That's evident," Wedge Antilles muttered through gritted teeth, having been allowed to approach the central viewport.
Luke silently watched as the Chimaera drew closer to the center of the Dominion's regular fleet formation.
Admiral Duplex's flagship had already left the system, and, oddly enough, no one had even attempted to pursue it.
They only simulated an attack with two Providence-class carrier/destroyers, but as Luke understood, it was merely to escort the MC80b out of the system.
This was unusual for Thrawn, who wasn't known for letting anyone slip through his predatory claws, especially those who could provide the enemy with valuable military intelligence.
On the other hand…
What could Admiral Duplex possibly tell the Fourth Fleet?
That Thrawn's Venator-class ships were equipped with ion cannons?
Most likely, the New Republic's Military Command either knew or at least suspected as much.
The real question was whether the commanders were aware that the weapons on Thrawn's Venators were inconsistent.
Some Venators fired two shots, some fired double shots, and others managed with just one.
But the fact that all of them had an extraordinarily high rate of fire—that was news to everyone.
Whether Duplex had learned this or not remained a mystery.
The result, however, was the same—Imperial-designed starships with Republic identifiers drifted as useless hunks of metal within Sluis Van's defensive perimeter.
So what else could Duplex report to Coruscant, given that long-range communications weren't blocked?
That nearly all of the Dominion's forces were gathered here?
That they had suffered significant losses?
Dozens of heavy cruisers had been withdrawn to the rear, toward Gladiator-class Star Destroyers, escort carriers, strike cruisers, and the twenty-five orbital docks already under Dominion control.
A vast number of corvettes were also damaged and being pulled back for repairs, where possible, to return to the fight.
But they had accomplished their task.
Of the fifty star cruisers that arrived at the system's perimeter, only ten remained operational—the rest had varying degrees of critical damage, with crews being evacuated from most.
Of Admiral Duplex's twenty-five star cruisers defending the shipyards, only one survived—the rest were destroyed.
And what had they achieved?
Luke, too, had read the data on Thrawn's datapad screen.
Sixty-three heavy cruisers were so damaged that without immediate repairs, they were unlikely to leave the system.
The remaining thirty-seven were destroyed—but most of their crews had been evacuated.
One hundred four of the three hundred Corellian corvettes and gunships were also destroyed, with the rest sustaining various degrees of damage but continuing to fight as repairs allowed.
Three destroyers were lost, but the Grand Admiral still had two Providences, three fully operational Star Destroyers, and two heavily damaged ones.
The latter, by the way, had been sent to the orbital docks—likely the Reckoning and Autumn Pillar were slated for repairs as much as possible.
But that wasn't the strangest part.
Thrawn had just mentioned that he had about thirty Star Destroyers in "reserve."
Even with the Fourth Fleet's hundred star cruisers, the New Republic's chances of victory were slim.
Once again, the emphasis was on starfighters—and the Republic fleet had an initial advantage in that regard.
But the corvettes and numerous fighters launched from the depths of heavy cruisers, Venators, Interdictor-class cruisers, and Star Destroyers (which, by the way, were combat starships on the Grand Admiral's side!) had done their job.
As had the armed and surprisingly agile freighters, numerous Arquitens-class ships, and even a couple of Generous-class ships, which were destroying New Republic starfighters with impressive speed and consistency.
The enemy's starfighters…
At this moment, a stalemate had formed in the dominance of fighters on the battlefield.
This could have been broken by the Imperial-designed ships on the New Republic's side, but…
Luke glanced at the Gladiator-class Star Destroyers and escort carriers.
Yes, not a single fighter, interceptor, or anything similar had launched from them.
Even the purpose of the Star Galleon-class frigates was clear—these ships, alongside Acclamator-class strike cruisers, were the constant docking points for Raider-class corvettes.
Perhaps that's where the boarding forces for capturing New Republic starships were coming from.
"So, the dry results of nearly three hours of battle," Thrawn summarized. "Control has been established over nine Imperial-class Star Destroyers, seven Interdictor-class cruisers, and eight Victory-class Star Destroyers. The entire "first line" of Imperial-designed starships, used as a living shield for our ion cannons, is under our control."
Luke saw Iella's fingers clench into fists.
He could practically feel, watching Wedge's tense back, that the Corellians were ready to explode but were fighting their inner rage.
The situation strongly reminded the young Jedi of what the Emperor had put him through aboard the second Death Star during the Battle of Endor.
Back then, Luke, like Wedge now, stood at the observation viewport, helplessly watching as the Imperials, luring the Republic fleet into a trap, tore them apart like butchers carving a carcass.
And even the powerful energy weapon that instantly disabled Republic starships without prolonged firefights was present both at Endor and here, today, at Sluis Van.
Only then, it was the superlaser of the second Death Star, and here, it was the numerous ion cannons disabling New Republic starships with one or two shots.
"You're not accounting for the starships disabled by ion cannons," Luke said.
"Of course," Thrawn confirmed. "They don't belong to us yet. But," the Grand Admiral glanced at the ship's chronometer, "I believe it will all be over soon."
"Soon?" Iella echoed.
"From half an hour to an hour," Thrawn replied generously, clarifying nothing.
The current situation, much like five years ago, pushed him toward rash actions.
He wanted to charge forward and carve a path to victory for himself and his friends with his lightsaber.
The Emperor's death had disorganized the Imperial fleet.
Would the death of Grand Admiral Thrawn disrupt the Dominion's plans?
The young Jedi glanced at Vice-Admiral Pellaeon and the bridge crew, who worked calmly despite everything.
Would these people panic if their leader fell in battle?
Would they retreat, abandoning the fight in the Sluis Van system?
Would they withdraw to Dominion territory, leaving the New Republic's sectors alone?
Would they halt their military operations entirely?
Or were these merely the musings of a young Jedi comforting himself?
There was no turning back.
Thrawn was the brain of the Dominion.
Before his arrival, the Imperials couldn't fight the New Republic, winning nearly every battle.
It was possible that without him, the Dominion would continue its campaign but lack the same impressive combat prowess.
Only strong, charismatic leaders could hold the Imperials together as a unified force.
Thrawn was one such leader.
The last of the Grand Admirals.
His death would surely ignite a thirst for vengeance among the Dominion, which already possessed a massive fleet.
The light forces captured at the Battle of Sullust.
The Star Destroyers and cruisers about to become Dominion property…
But the young Jedi couldn't bring himself to act.
He saw the glances from Wedge and Iella but couldn't…
It would mean losing himself.
Opening himself to the Dark Side.
But on the other hand, letting Thrawn live meant dooming all those who served the New Republic and democracy.
How could he face the families of those who gave their lives for justice and freedom in the galaxy if he didn't make the hard choice in this critical moment?
Sacrifice his principles for the lives of millions, perhaps billions, of sentients…
Who knew when Thrawn would stop?
Who knew what plans he was hatching?
His talk of peaceful coexistence had long since faded.
Judging by the slaughter he'd orchestrated at Sluis Van, Thrawn cared little for the fact that he was now devastating the planet's civilian population, stripping them of jobs and possibly their lives.
How many brave New Republic soldiers had to suffer for this to finally end?
For peace and calm to prevail, and for sentients to stop dying by the thousands in violent ways?
Who was responsible for the evil, like the Emperor or Thrawn, taking root in the galaxy?
Weren't the Jedi supposed to maintain peace and order, resolve conflicts, and prevent their escalation?
How had they done so in the past if they hesitated to take such actions?
When capture was impossible.
When the only correct, only possible, only hypothetical way to prevent the New Republic's destruction required breaking what he'd been taught?
Or was he misinterpreting the words of Yoda, Obi-Wan, and others?
Perhaps Thrawn and the others were right when they called him an untrained novice.
On Ossus, he'd encountered Jedi serving Thrawn.
And they fought without hesitation.
Was that right?
Or was Obi-Wan's teaching correct: "A Jedi's lightsaber is for defense, not attack"?
But what if attack was the only true form of defense?
When no other options remained, like the Imperial starships disabled by ion cannons drifting in space before the young Jedi's eyes…
Luke felt his mouth go dry, a chilling sweat breaking out, nearly making his teeth chatter.
"An hour," he said hoarsely. "You said an hour, Grand Admiral."
"From half an hour to an hour," Thrawn quoted himself, swiveling his chair to meet the man's eyes. Luke locked gazes with the black, beady eyes of the brown ysalamiri the blue-skinned Supreme Commander and Dominion ruler was stroking. "Details matter."
"As does the air supply left on the disabled ships," Luke barely recognized his own voice.
But he felt a jolt in his elbow nerve—he'd clenched the fingers of his artificial right hand so tightly that the metal creaked, and the leather glove began to crack under the strain.
Thrawn didn't break his gaze, as if trying to study every detail.
"Quite right, Jedi Skywalker," he said quietly. "General Bel Iblis fully crewed most of the Imperial-designed starships, hoping they could turn the tide at Sluis Van. But he fell into his own trap."
Thrawn's words, despite their tone, rang like a bell in Luke's ears.
Then the sound morphed into a relentless, intensifying thrum of dull blows in his temples.
Luke could barely hear anything around him.
Only now did he realize that all of this—words, negotiations, prisoner exchanges—was nothing but a facade.
Thrawn was just as much a maniac as most Grand Admirals before him.
"You've disabled starships and intend to leave hundreds of thousands of sentients on their decks to suffocate!" Iella Wessiri shouted. "Doesn't anything inside you tremble at this cruelty?"
"You're not even going to try to save them?" Wedge demanded angrily.
Thrawn looked calmly at both Republic officers.
As if he were inspecting his lunch in the destroyer's mess hall, no different from what he'd been served yesterday, the day before, or throughout his entire service.
"The answer to both questions is: 'No,'" the Grand Admiral replied calmly.
"Why?" Luke could only manage to say. "You could take them prisoner and exchange them advantageously?"
"Why should I keep doing that?" Thrawn asked. "Everything you could trade for your prisoners, I'll take myself now. I'm tired of waiting for the New Republic to hand over Imperial technology voluntarily. But that's not the main issue. Just minutes ago, you were celebrating the simultaneous deaths of the crews of the Captain Rensen, Moonshadow, and Resolute. I think it's time to show you a response to Republic cruelty."
"But your soldiers died in battle!" Wedge protested Thrawn's logic.
"And our soldiers are suffocating in vacuum!" Iella cried, clenching her fists in helpless rage. "They didn't even fire a single shot at your ships!"
"They didn't because I didn't allow it," Thrawn reminded them. "They're dying by their own choice—they joined the New Republic Defense Force voluntarily. It's unlikely your government is so deranged as to conscript civilians off the streets to throw them into the front lines. Thus, it's entirely their voluntary decision. Such is the nature of war—people kill and are killed. I offered your government an alternative to combat. You ignored it. There will be no more negotiations."
"Those weren't negotiations! You gave the New Republic an ultimatum!" Antilles roared. "No one negotiates with someone who dictates terms."
"And the time for negotiations is over," Thrawn reminded him. "I offered you an alternative—give me the ships, and you get your prisoners. But you found nothing better than to ignore me officially and ransom prisoners privately. Now things are different."
The Grand Admiral pointed to the battlefield, where, despite the firefights, Dominion starships were already pulling back from the line of engagement.
Simultaneously, they were dragging immobilized starships away from the Republic forces to prevent their destruction.
The cluster of ion-cannon-struck ships, so dense they interfered with the Venators' firing, was gradually "clearing up."
In truth, the Dominion forces were acting quickly, efficiently, and skillfully.
As if it had all been rehearsed, with no questions about each other's actions.
As if they were all part of a single organism, understanding each other with a mere glance.
Of course, it could be the obvious use of communication systems, but Luke doubted that.
There was something else—too swift were the Dominion's actions.
Virtually all the starships Thrawn had designated as the "first line" had been pulled back from the ion-cannon-struck "Imperial" ships and integrated into the Grand Admiral's rear forces.
From their positions behind the deployment vectors of Interdictor-class cruisers and Star Destroyers, it was clear the enemy intended to begin withdrawing the fleet from the system.
A collapse.
Even the fact that the immobilized starships were being towed from their drifting positions didn't significantly alter the battle's turning point.
Republic forces used these corridors to send starfighters or ships into attack, but the Dominion obliterated the bold enemy with all available means.
"You are inhumanely cruel, Grand Admiral," Luke said.
"I'm not human," Thrawn declared. "If you haven't forgotten that important fact, dear self-proclaimed Jedi."
"What about Palpatine?" Skywalker swallowed the insult and pressed on.
"Clarify your question," the Grand Admiral requested. "Wrong questions lead to wrong answers."
"You spoke of Palpatine," Luke reminded him. "It seems you want to use the New Republic as a buffer against the Emperor's attack. If so, why are you destroying our starships and soldiers?! They could fight Palpatine, whom you, by your own words, dislike!"
"I'm not a nursemaid, and you're not a daycare group, Jedi Skywalker," Thrawn said. "You don't believe my words about Palpatine's return. But you'll still do what's necessary—take the brunt of his attack. Whether you have many or few ships concerns me little. Besides, you have more modern starships under construction. They'll serve you better than the outdated ships the New Republic threw against me."
"And the crews?!" Iella interjected. "Suppose Palpatine attacks soon. Then what? You've taken or plan to take most of our Imperial-designed ships and are decimating our fleet. You hold hundreds of thousands of our career soldiers prisoner. Where's the logic?"
"It's simple," Thrawn said. "You refuse to cooperate with me—so you die. No more negotiations with the New Republic. Only, as you put it, ultimatums. You either comply or perish. That's all."
"You're not just a maniac," Wedge shook his head. "You're a terrorist," he pointed at the Star Destroyer's central viewport. "You can fool anyone, but not me. I know all your Imperial tricks. You're deliberately leaving crews on the ion-cannon-struck ships so our starships can't fire properly and risk destroying the captured vessels!"
"Sound reasoning, General," Thrawn agreed. "A small tactical advantage—nothing more. But beyond what you've said, I also need to clear the space of immobilized ships to fire upon, capture, and tow the rest."
"Sir," Officer Pellaeon, receiving new reports, handed Thrawn another datapad. "The orbital docks are ready to jump out of the system."
"Excellent, Vice-Admiral," Thrawn said. "Direct them, along with the captured and controlled starships, along route one."
It seemed there were other routes as well…
Immediately after the gray-haired officer relayed the orders, Luke watched, mouth agape, as not only the captured ships but also the mobile docks—even those not equipped with hyperdrives—breached the lightspeed barrier instantly.
"How?!" Antilles exclaimed. "How did you do that?!"
"I gave the order," Thrawn replied calmly.
"The attack on Kai Fel," Iella cursed. "That's what it was for! You captured enough hyperdrives to develop systems for moving stations through hyperspace."
"That's how and why the Golans disappear!" Luke gasped. "You're not destroying them or sending them into space—you're equipping them with hyperdrives and transporting them to parts of the galaxy you need!"
"I must commend you," Thrawn said. "It only took a dozen such operations for you to figure it out. Correct me if I'm wrong, Vice-Admiral Pellaeon."
"Sir," the Vice-Admiral cleared his throat. "It actually took—"
"How neglectful," Thrawn raised an eyebrow.
He looked at the battlefield, continuing to stroke his ysalamiri.
"Well, well, well," he said after a moment. "The transport starships, doubling as carrier replacements, have almost been withdrawn, and the outer perimeter is cleared. I assume the remaining Republic commanders are preparing for the arrival of the Fourth Fleet's star cruisers."
"Which you'll leave nothing of," Wedge muttered. "You'll destroy or capture every one of our starships, won't you?!"
"On the contrary, General Antilles," Thrawn smiled unexpectedly. "Your fleet will be destroyed by your own forces. By your own commanders."
"That will never happen!" Antilles declared.
"Only in your fantasies, Thrawn!" Iella said boldly.
"How is that possible?" Luke blinked.
"Don't rush, young self-proclaimed Jedi," the Grand Admiral advised. "Savor the picture of your defeat and the feeling of your own helplessness. It brings back certain memories, doesn't it?"
Luke gritted his teeth.
So Thrawn was doing this deliberately.
He had orchestrated everything and was merely pulling the strings.
Was he waiting for Luke to snap?
But… how was that possible?
Had the Grand Admiral's awareness of his own genius driven him mad?!
"It won't be long now," Thrawn assured. "We've already seized two-thirds of the "Imperial" design ships. Nothing stands in the way of starting the final phase…"
"Ships arriving at the outer perimeter!" came a report from one of the pits.
"Multiple targets!"
"Mon Calamari star cruisers!"
"Registering Admiral Duplex's flagship on the same vector it fled!"
"They're moving to join the fleet!"
"The enemy is preparing to launch starfighters!"
Wedge, comparing the number of arriving ships and likely forgetting Thrawn's mention of reserves, smirked sardonically.
"The enemy is launching massed starfighter attacks!"
"Now you've trapped yourself, Grand Admiral!" Antilles said with no small satisfaction.
"On the contrary," Thrawn said calmly. "I've caught the biggest prize I've ever dealt with."
The Grand Admiral turned his head, looking at Vice-Admiral Pellaeon standing nearby.
"Proceed to the final phase of the operation," Thrawn declared.
"Yes, sir," a hint of relief and calm appeared on the Vice-Admiral's mustached face.
He stepped aside, issuing orders on the move.
Luke, exchanging glances with his comrades and allies, chose to observe.
And he didn't miss the fact that the armed freighters, Arquitens-class ships, and Generous-class ships opened their hangars and charged at the enemy, releasing dozens, if not thousands, of starfighters…
"Xg-1 Star Wing assault gunboats," the Grand Admiral commented. "Armed with numerous shaped-charge missile launchers…"
A deep shadow crossed Wedge's face.
He seemed to age twenty years in an instant.
"Prepare to say goodbye to your starfighters, dear Republicans," Grand Admiral Thrawn said, stroking the brown ysalamiri on his lap.
Luke felt he no longer had reasons or excuses to hold back from what he'd planned.
As the first Republic starfighters broke through the starship screen and entered operational space, hundreds of homing missiles were already streaking toward them.
Space filled with countless explosions, each marking the death of another Republic pilot.
Luke lifted his head, no longer staring at the deck, and met the gazes of Iella and Wedge.
He read in their eyes a grim resolve to do what was necessary to save the New Republic from defeat.
And he nodded in agreement.
There were no options left.
Grand Admiral Thrawn had to die.
Here.
And now.
***
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