The Stormhawk led a detachment consisting of its sister ships, the Fated and the Storm Front. Like most Star Destroyers in Grand Admiral Thrawn's fleet, they had once borne other names and served other commanders.
But today, they did what they must.
They stood against the New Republic.
Commodore Morgot Astorias kept his eyes fixed on his destroyer's tactical monitor.
Information flowed to it from the central computer, also spreading to the displays of all fighters and onboard terminals.
The first target was destroyed.
A Mon Calamari star cruiser with some convoluted name was engulfed in flames erupting from its viewports and hangar deck.
The ship listed, falling out of formation, and now there were not five opponents against three, but four.
Three Liberty-type cruisers and one MC90b — the Mon Remonda, General Han Solo's flagship.
Quite serious forces, when you thought about it: three Imperial Star Destroyers would clearly have a bad time in such an engagement.
The problem was that the enemy thought they were facing perfectly ordinary Star Destroyers.
A naive delusion.
Shielded from numerous direct threats from the Dominion, the enemy had been forced to throw unprotected starships at the right and left flanks to prevent a breakthrough to their shipyards and a flanking attack on Admiral Duplex's group defending the orbital docks.
It wasn't even funny.
The enemy on this part of Sluis Van had lost its cover — the disintegrating MC80a Liberty stood as proof.
"Sir, Major Bren is on the line," the watch officer reported. "He advises that his squadron has been recalled to another sector of the front. They'll make their strike on the withdrawal."
"Good," Morgot replied. "Send them our thanks for their assistance."
And the Scimitars, as promised, did engage the enemy during their withdrawal.
After striking the planetary defense forces and one of the five star cruisers, the Scimitars had virtually no ammunition left, so the bomber pilots' contribution to further reducing General Solo's detachment numbers worked entirely in their favor.
Whatever it was worth.
Though it became clear literally in the next seconds.
The Mon Calamari star cruiser called the Free Dac shuddered helplessly, its hull deforming, breaches already revealing the richness of the atmosphere and interior fittings within.
Ten Scimitars had expended their remaining ammunition and now surged away, leaving the trio of Star Destroyers with a proportionate number of opponents.
The convergence of both detachments occurred to the accompaniment of the second of five star cruisers breaking apart, having fallen victim to the strike on this vector.
Escape pods detached from the doomed ship and now drifted slowly toward the planet.
"Launch bombers," Commodore Astarion ordered. "Target — New Republic cruisers. Destroyer interceptors — engage and destroy all enemy starfighters. Detachment artillery — concentrate fire on the star cruisers."
The battle, like a beautiful bud, bloomed, illuminating Sluis Van's orbit with red and green flashes from both sides' turbolasers.
Distracted by the Dominion's TIE Interceptors, the enemy fighters couldn't react to the bomber strike.
One minute after the formation commanders reported reaching their attack course, the first explosion rocked the New Republic flagship — the Mon Remonda.
A powerful proton torpedo impact tore away a large section of hull plating on the starboard side. The ship veered off course, yawing sideways, causing its artillery to score not a single hit on its target — the Stormhawk.
Morgot's ship maintained a relentless barrage on the enemy flagship, exploiting its compromised defenses.
Small pieces of armor fell away from the area the bombers had struck, giving the Stormhawk's gunners an excellent opportunity to pack as much tibanna as possible into the MC80b.
The starship's innards were ejected into space with each salvo from the Star Destroyer.
Entire compartments, having lost structural integrity, were expelled by the irresistible force of decompression.
Along with them, smaller pieces of hull plating flew off.
A whole harvest spilled from the doomed ship — fighters, interceptors, bombers, squadron after squadron.
Freighters and escape pods, personal starships that someone had somehow smuggled aboard.
The crew was abandoning the doomed vessel, unwilling to die with it.
At least — the majority of them.
Some gun emplacements on the Mon Remonda continued firing despite the ship's dire condition.
The Stormhawk answered these pitiful resistance attempts with full artillery salvos.
Localized engagements between six air groups from both sides' detachments somehow drifted to the periphery of the overall battle space, where neither Dominion nor Republic turbolasers could interfere.
Occupied with the engagement, the crews of the two remaining New Republic star cruisers in this sector didn't immediately realize that only one of three TIE bomber squadrons had struck the Mon Remonda.
And now, drawn into artillery duels, they reacted too late to the approaching bombers.
Numerous explosions, the result of careful calculation of trajectory and proton torpedo impact points, tore through both enemy warships' hulls.
Armor plates deformed, twisted, and tore as if made of flimsi.
Ripped from their mounts, caught by decompression waves, they flew into open space.
As if mauled by enormous beasts, the starships were instantly defenseless, having lost not only armor as such but also their deflector shield projectors.
The ships' exposed wounds became excellent targets for the other two Star Destroyers' gunners.
The Stormhawk, with the persistence of a jackhammer, pounded turbolaser charges into the smoking carcass of the Mon Remonda, leaving no chance for any remaining Republic survivors.
The Fated and Storm Front followed suit, striking their own targets, whose energy defenses were also critically damaged.
Commodore Astorias silently watched the Mon Remonda explode, then coldly ordered an attack on the nearest Mon Calamari star cruiser.
"The bomber squadrons have completed ammunition loading," the watch officer reported.
"They have new orders," Astorias declared. "Target — the cruiser the Fated is engaging. Cripple all critical systems."
Together with the Storm Front, the Stormhawk took on the second enemy ship, increasing the rate of damage.
And hastening the inevitable result — the enemy vessel's demise.
The first to die was the ship Morgot had sent TIE bombers from all three Star Destroyers against.
Massive proton torpedo salvos heading your way — clearly not what you want to see through the viewports of the ship you're on.
But that was the end of that star cruiser.
It had survived many glorious battles for the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic, but today its luck ran out.
The ship shuddered throughout its hull, then internal explosions simply tore it into pieces.
The second cruiser, finding itself outnumbered, held out until the Fated joined in its beating.
Crossfire from three "Mark Ones" could have overwhelmed even newer starships than the Mon Calamari Liberty.
But nothing else was in store for the enemy.
The disfigured hulk of a New Republic starship was left drifting in space, slowly descending under planetary gravity into the upper atmosphere.
"Interceptor squadrons, accelerate the destruction of remaining enemy fighters," Morgot ordered. "Afterward, return immediately to your base ships for rotation. Hangar crews, maintain constant readiness for rapid damage repair."
"Sir, what will be our course from here?" the watch officer asked.
"Center forward toward the shipyards," Astorias commanded. "Monitor signals from the Chimaera. Be prepared, upon receiving orders, to increase speed to maximum and move to link up with the main force."
* * *
"Admiral," Argentis heard the voice of his flagship's commander. "The Mon Remonda group has been destroyed."
Internally cursing everything he could, the Zeltron remained outwardly calm.
"Enemy losses?"
"Minimal, sir! All three destroyers are combat-capable and continuing their advance toward the shipyards! They report that unknown-pattern bombers assisted the enemy."
"Likely the same ones that have caused us problems everywhere they've appeared," the Republic commander thought.
Watching through his ship's central viewport as crimson blades of turbolaser energy rained down on enemy destroyers, the admiral could only continue what he'd started.
To meet the destroyer group led by the Chimaera head-on.
Recalling more ships to delay the breakthrough to the shipyards was pointless.
Because it would weaken his own squadron to the breaking point.
You either needed a massive fist of star cruisers, or there was no point in splitting your forces. Sending two or three ships — all he could pull from his force without clearly losing to Thrawn — wouldn't stop the enemy.
"Relay the message to General Bel Iblis," he ordered. "We have our own tasks."
"And we'll pray to whatever higher powers exist that we can handle them," the Zeltron thought.
* * *
The Captain Rensen, the Resolute, and the Moonshadow formed a detachment under Commodore Darran's command, penetrating the shipyards from the side opposite Commodore Astorias's detachment's actions.
Three Mark Twos in first-class technical condition demonstrated this against five enemy star cruisers, giving their all in terms of rate of fire and accuracy in turbolaser duels.
That the enemy had the Supreme Commander of the New Republic Defense Forces acting against them directly didn't add to his chances of success.
At least not in the matter of qualitative opposition against the Dominion's numerically superior small craft.
Darran watched with a smirk as Republic pilots died.
Here it was — the long-awaited day of reckoning brought to the New Republic military after the attack on the Ciutric Hegemony in general, and the planet Liinade III in particular.
And it wasn't that sending all interceptors forward to annihilate enemy fighters was the tactical move Darran had desired.
Rather, it was a necessity arising from the kind of chance events that frequently occur in war.
In this case, chance had struck one of his destroyers.
"Sir, the Moonshadow reports they've patched the breach and are ready to return to action," someone reported from the comms section.
That Mark Two had suffered from the actions of a single New Republic starfighter.
A BTL-B, also known as a "wishbone," had managed to break through the defensive perimeter and bomb the forward section of the Star Destroyer's superstructure.
It could be considered chance, yes.
That's exactly how it's usually recorded in after-action reports.
Darran himself, however, regarded the incident as a tactical blunder.
The Moonshadow's commander had sent his small craft forward to attack enemy fighters prematurely, without bothering to keep one TIE Interceptor squadron close to the ship to protect against such "oddities."
As prescribed by the combat regulations!
It was clear that after the operation concluded, the commander would face an interview with counterintelligence and lengthy proceedings.
How it would end — unclear.
But there was little pleasant about what had happened.
Yes, the "wishbone" was shot down, but the very fact of taking losses and damage that could have been avoided with proper attention and correct application of military science...
"Keep them on our left flank," ordered Darren. "I'm ordering them to keep two squadrons of interceptors in the close perimeter zone for ship security."
"Aye, sir! Will relay."
"Sir, Scimitar squadron IFFs identified! Major Bren reports readiness to strike targets."
"Inform them our interceptors will be happy to assist with security," said Darren, turning his full attention back to the battle unfolding before his ships. "Designate Second and Third Squadrons under Captain Rensen for this."
"Aye, sir!"
* * *
"Looks like luck isn't on your side," Alex said, watching on the scanners as a squadron of ashek fighters clearly locked onto the Scimitars.
"There is no luck," Tomax stated. "Only planning and preparation. Scimitars — punch it."
The bomber, obeying the ship commander's order, launched forward, covering the distance to the Truthful in seconds.
"Torpedoes ready?" Tomax asked the flight engineer.
"Of course," Alex replied.
"Armed and hot."
The lead Scimitar, now surrounded by nine of its siblings — two ships from the squadron had been seconded to Rear Admiral Dorr for his mission on Sullust — abruptly changed course, evading fire from General Iblis's Star Cruiser.
The major rolled his ship, spinning through the thrusters. For a brief moment, the MC80b hung before him, above him, upside down.
The Scimitar squadron commander brought up his targeting reticle, catching the bridge of the New Republic Star Cruiser.
The onboard computer blinked through shifting symbols, confirming target lock.
"Seeker heads have acquired!" Alex reported. "Telemetry uploaded! Bomb bay doors open!"
"Squadron — slave to my data," Tomax ordered.
"Transmitting telemetry!"
Major Bren said nothing.
He simply pressed the firing stud and fired.
* * *
The gravacoustic officer on the Truthful raised his hand to get General Iblis's attention.
"Sir, multiple enemy contacts inside close perimeter defense!"
"Torpedo attack from above…"
And then, almost immediately, the clarification came:
"General, sir, three proton torpedoes inbound on the bridge! Bomber attack!"
"Nine additional attack points!"
"It's a full squadron attack!"
The Corellian wouldn't have survived this long if he couldn't make quick decisions!
"Abandon the bridge! Abandon ship! Evacuate by any means necessary!"
The ship commander slammed the emergency button.
A deafening siren wail tore through the corridors and compartments of the Truthful, forcing the crew to abandon their battle stations.
General Iblis was the last to leave the bridge.
The skeleton watch had cleared the compartment in seconds — a testament to their training and the crew's overall readiness.
He cast a final glance at the empty instruments, fully aware that this ship was doomed.
The forward main viewport made a strange sound as the glowing proton torpedoes closed in.
Garm touched the panel controlling the bulkhead door just as the transparisteel cracked.
The main viewport exploded into a hail of shrapnel that would have certainly killed the watch crew if they had remained at their posts.
The fragments immediately changed course, sucked out into space along with the bridge atmosphere.
The air screamed, venting from the bridge through the hole that had once been the viewport, and even the emergency sirens couldn't drown out the roar of the wind.
What happened next, Garm Bel Iblis did not see — the blast doors leading to the bridge slammed shut.
The magnetic lock clicked distinctly.
The general looked around.
The watch officers and specialists had all managed to escape, though their eyes were wild, their hair — for those who had it — disheveled, their jackets in disarray.
Their faces showed determination.
No panic.
This was war, and in battle, ships die.
The Corellian glanced at the escape pod bay adjoining the corridor, where the watch crew and personnel from the nearest compartments were already boarding.
The Truthful shuddered with each proton torpedo impact, sometimes throwing personnel to the floor or against the walls.
The ship groaned like a sea beast sensing its own end.
The general took a seat in an escape pod among the last.
The evacuation craft left its launch tube, speeding away from the starship.
Star Destroyer turbolasers tore into its scarred and twisted hull, while the lights of ten bombers fleeing pursuit — like a flare on a star — burned themselves forever onto the Corellian's retinas.
"Course to Admiral Duplex's flagship," Bel Iblis ordered. "It's not over yet."
And a moment later, a TIE Interceptor, appearing from nowhere, shot out the escape pod's engines, turning the beings trapped inside into mere spectators of the Republic fleet's massacre.
* * *
"Two of the three flagships are destroyed, sir," Gilad reported to the impassive Grand Admiral, watching from the corner of his eye as confusion settled on the faces of the three Republicans, who were essentially condemned to be helpless witnesses to the carnage he, Pellaeon, had orchestrated. "General Iblis's ships are damaged and retreating. Commodore Darren is boarding the ships."
Though, he shouldn't take more credit than necessary.
This part of the plan — neutralizing the forces guarding the shipyards and orbital docks — was Thrawn's.
And he was executing it now.
The broad strokes of the entire operation were Pellaeon's; Thrawn was handling the critical specifics.
"Excellent," the Grand Admiral replied. "Now we just need to deal with Admiral Duplex's ships."
Gilad glanced at the dozen Star Cruisers advancing in a narrow line, overlapping their shields.
With the SEAL system active, it was a monolithic wall that three Star Destroyers — the only ones Thrawn currently kept with him — simply couldn't breach.
"Even if fortune has smiled on both your flanks, nine against ten is still a long battle," Antilles stated.
"You won't break through, Grand Admiral," Wessiri declared.
"Why would I need to smash my head against a wall to reach the shipyards and docks when my ships are already there?" Thrawn clarified.
"The assault force your carrier-destroyers brought is too small," Luke noted. "You won't be able to capture the shipyards."
"I don't need them," Thrawn said calmly. "Direct your attention to orbital dock V-475."
The Chiss removed his right hand from stroking the ysalamiri and pointed at one of the structures near the docks.
The structures that Duplex's ships were defending.
Were defending — half an hour ago.
"They're changing position," Skywalker frowned.
"And retracting their piers…"
"Collapsing the dry dock scaffolding," Wessiri whispered.
And at that moment, the Republicans noticed Astorias's task force approaching that dock.
Ten minutes passed, and the Destiny Ascension, docking with the orbital dock, began towing it away from the battle.
A few minutes later, the battle-scarred Moon Shadow docked with another dock — V-403, at the opposite end of the shipyard complex.
"Inform the Stormhawk and Storm Front that after the stormtroopers land, they may join our battle," Thrawn said. "The same goes for Commodore Darren's ships. Time to pressure the Admiral's flanks."
Pellaeon turned away to hide his smile.
He couldn't react any other way to the bewildered expressions on the Republicans' faces.
"You want to steal the orbital docks!" General Antilles was the first to state the obvious.
"Steal?" The Grand Admiral looked at the Corellian. "General, watch your language. There are ladies present."
Wessiri let out an irritated snort.
"These docks were purchased by the Sluissi with Imperial financing," Thrawn said. "And they were intended for servicing Imperial ships. The Sluissi seized them after Endor. So no, General Antilles. I am not 'stealing' I am reclaiming Imperial property."
"You'll need a few more ships to haul away all twenty-five orbital docks from here," Skywalker noted. "You only have ten Star Destroyers, two of which are already busy adjusting the docks' orbits for their hyperspace jump. Seven Destroyers you've committed to battling Admiral Duplex's force. The Providence-class ships are clearly not suited for dock work — they're shelling the rear elements of Duplex's squadron."
"Correct," Thrawn confirmed. "Seven Destroyers will indeed be insufficient to take all the orbital docks."
"Meaning you'll destroy the rest?" Wessiri tensed.
The Sluis Van shipyards were, of course, among the best in the galaxy. But without orbital docks, their utility for repairing warships would drop to near zero.
"Why spoil what you can take?" Thrawn inquired.
"Only ten docks are equipped with hyperdrives," Antilles noted. "So fifteen will remain here."
"Possibly," Thrawn said, half-turning to Gilad. "Vice Admiral, Commodore Darren will need time to capture the Star Cruisers from General Iblis's contingent, won't he?"
"At least an hour, sir," Pellaeon confirmed.
"And we'll need about the same amount of time for Admiral Duplex's fleet," the Grand Admiral said thoughtfully.
"Seven Destroyers against ten Star Cruisers?" Gilad heard Wessiri's whisper, addressed to General Antilles. "Is he joking?"
"I'm afraid not."
"In that case, deploy the second wave," Thrawn ordered, turning his fiery gaze back to the battlefield. "Our new interdictor cruisers have just taken favorable positions."
"Your new interdictors?" Luke repeated, bewildered, looking at the tactical display.
"Yes," Grand Admiral Thrawn replied. "The Beu'a, Strangling Grip, Claw, Fire Talon, Emperor's Net, Whirlwind, Talons, Red Claw, and twenty-three others. But the first seven — the ones Bel Iblis used to drag my fleet out of hyperspace — we've already captured. The rest are waiting for us among the Imperial-design ships."
"Captured how?" Iella Wessiri said, stunned.
"As always," Thrawn replied. "With force, skill, and the stormtroopers' unyielding faith."
"But those Immobilizers are still projecting gravity wells," Wedge Antilles stated.
"Yes," the Grand Admiral said indifferently. "But now they're projecting the gravity traps I need. Which, combined with the work of my own interdictors and interdictor cruisers, creates a vast trap for ships in the system. With one exception."
"Why do you need the corridor Bel Iblis created?" Antilles asked, realizing that despite the shifted deployment vectors, the trap intended for the Dominion's regular fleet was still active.
"It was created to catch Dominion starships," Thrawn said. "And it will catch them. Speaking of which — there they are."
Gilad smirked, seeing dozens of new ship contacts appear on the Chimaera's tactical monitor.
Acclamator-class assault cruisers, Gladiator-class Star Destroyers, Quasar Fire-class escort carriers, dozens of Star Galleon-class frigates, Raider-class corvettes, and Corellian starships.
But that wasn't all.
Not by a long shot.
The Grand Admiral had brought major forces to Sluis Van.
Nearly all combat-capable starships of the Dominion's regular fleet — except for the Star Destroyers under the Ubiqtorate and Isard, reassigned to Shohashi and having distinguished themselves as part of the Red Star force at Lianna and in the Tynian sector.
The Grand Admiral had also left behind Captain Vivant's Star Destroyers, sending them to the Karthakk system for repairs.
And still waiting their turn were the Victory-class destroyers and escort frigates, hundreds of Corellian corvettes…
Eagerly awaiting the arrival of the New Republic Defense Force's Fourth Fleet Star Cruisers.
"Armed transports and fifty warships incapable of standing against even a single Star Cruiser in a one-on-one fight?" Wedge Antilles clarified. "And this is what you're throwing against the vast number of Imperial-design starships in our service?"
"And more," Thrawn stated. "These ships have their own objectives."
"They're heading for the orbital docks!" Luke Skywalker determined. "You intend to dismantle those incapable of independent movement?"
Gilad, watching the enemy land hits on the Chimaera, coughed, imagining what the young Jedi had just said.
He could almost hear a mocking snicker from the pits.
Gilad shot his subordinates a stern look, while internally fighting the urge to laugh at such an amateurish thought, running completely contrary to all the principles of the current battle demonstrated by the Dominion.
"Um…" the youngest New Republic general deflated. "Luke, that kind of operation would take weeks. And even then, only if you had a few thousand people for emergency crews."
"Your comrade is correct, Jedi Skywalker," Thrawn stated. "You have voiced a remarkable foolishness. A pity."
"I'm not particularly strong in military arts," the Jedi said, embarrassed.
"Really?" the Chiss queried. "And here I thought you had, not so long ago, held the rank of general in the most democratic anti-government organization in the entire galaxy."
"I renounced my military rank," Skywalker said, seeming to regain his composure. "And divested myself of the authority of a general…"
'And your brains along with it?' Pellaeon thought.
"Well, I held you in slightly higher regard, Jedi Skywalker," Grand Admiral Thrawn stated. "I note with regret that the Alliance and the New Republic born from it hand out high ranks not on merit, but for political reasons. Or 'for pretty eyes.'"
"Well, I'd argue with that," Wedge Antilles said, his face darkening.
"You personally, General, couldn't even handle Isard," Grand Admiral Thrawn reminded him. "Yet the New Republic claims credit for destroying Grand Admirals, most of whom they never even laid eyes on. Not the most impressive track record, in my opinion."
"Besides them, we have plenty of Imperial commanders in our portfolio — Zsinj, for example," Wessiri said caustically.
"And if not for the accident of Captain Solo losing his precious ship, you would never have known of Dathomir's existence, Zsinj's secret base, or eliminated that threat," Thrawn stated. "All your victories are dictated by chance and the providence of the Great Force. Is it not so, Jedi Skywalker? Have you ever wondered how the Battle of Yavin IV would have ended if you hadn't had the Force's backing?"
It was as if the Jedi had been punched in the gut.
He seemed to deflate, even appearing to shrink.
"How do you know that?" he whispered.
"How do you know so much about us at all?!" Iella Wessiri finally shouted, unable to contain herself, earning a sharp cuff on the head from a nearby guard.
"You are on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, Agent Wessiri, not a cattle market on Showm-Ha," Thrawn said phlegmatically. "This is not the New Republic. This is the Dominion. Such insolence is not forgiven here."
"Your intelligence is very good," Wedge Antilles said, apparently putting two and two together. He looked at his friends, then explained the obvious:
"The attack on Coruscant. Our intelligence archives were cracked and copied by the Grand Admiral's slicers."
"And you also got access to my droid," Jedi Skywalker relaxed. "So that's it…"
"Plus informants working in the Imperial Palace," Wessiri narrowed her eyes. "That's why you're always one step ahead of us! You have an advanced agent network!"
'Only took a year,' Pellaeon sighed, pushing away the thought that he himself, not so long ago, had looked just as pale and unbefitting a Star Destroyer commander in the Grand Admiral's eyes.
Thrawn paused in stroking the ysalamiri for a moment, then looked at the three Republicans with a barely perceptible, sly smile.
In the complete silence of the bridge, the dull sound of gloved palms clapping together echoed.
The Grand Admiral was applauding.
"Well, well. Look how positively being in my company affects your cognitive functions," he said. "I'd almost given up hope."
An openly mocking guffaw came from the pits.
"Lieutenant!" Pellaeon snapped.
Seriously, the senior communications officer — why couldn't you control yourself?
It's not like you're a rookie!
"My fault, sir!" the man said.
"Three extra duty rosters!" Gilad ordered.
"Aye, sir!" The lieutenant's face assumed an expression of complete submission.
But those twitching corners of his mouth…
"You still can't win, Thrawn," Wedge Antilles stated. "Your main forces won't break through our blockade on the orbital perimeter…"
"They're already pulling back!" Iella said unexpectedly. "Look! The cruisers and Venators are recalling fighters, the corvettes are breaking contact!"
"It seems there's discord in your army, Grand Admiral Thrawn," General Antilles said with some satisfaction. "Your interdictors and interdictor cruisers are deactivating their gravity well generators!"
And indeed — at the outer orbital perimeter of Sluis Van, the cones of artificial gravity had vanished.
Now, the only thing holding the Republic's Imperial-design starships was the recent prize of seven interdictor cruisers.
"Observation without understanding is nothing more than a waste of one's eyesight," the Grand Admiral stated. "Vice Admiral Pellaeon, it would seem that during my conversation with our shortsighted guests, I missed the start of the third phase of the current operation?"
"Affirmative, sir," Gilad said. "We began ten minutes ago."
"So this is not a sign of our victory?" the youngest New Republic general asked in confusion.
"Of course not," Pellaeon grinned. "We're simply regrouping our forces to finish what we started."
"And… what do you intend to do?" Luke Skywalker asked.
But the answer was not a word, but an action.
Into that very cleared space, so obligingly prepared by General Bel Iblis and further expanded by the asteroid attack and the actions of the 'wolf packs,' Captains Irv and Tieros, and 'Kavil's Corsairs,' ships began to appear…
Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers, Venator-class Star Destroyers, Corellian corvettes, interdictors, Dominion interdictor cruisers…
All courteously pulled from hyperspace by the seven interdictor cruisers captured in this very battle.
And now positioned almost within firing range of Admiral Duplex's rear.
"Exactly what I announced some time ago," Thrawn stated. "Destroy Admiral Duplex. Capture the orbital docks. Return the Imperial-design ships to those who need them more."
"And destroy the New Republic," Pellaeon couldn't help adding, already inwardly scolding himself for the childish remark.
"That's scheduled after lunch, Vice Admiral," Thrawn said in an unchanged tone. "Don't rush events."
"Ah… When is your lunch?" General Antilles asked cautiously.
"Immediately after the Fourth Fleet's Star Cruisers arrive in the conveniently prepared trap for them," Thrawn explained.
It suddenly got a bit scary…
Even for Pellaeon.
Especially for Pellaeon.
He'd blurted that out without thinking, out of pure Corellian mischief, but Thrawn didn't know how to joke.
Not at all.
What if he actually did dismantle the New Republic out of boredom over a snack?