Captain Makeno gritted his teeth as a Star Destroyer from among those closest to the Dominion fleet began hosing a Raider-class corvette with fire and reluctantly turned toward the mob of TIE fighters from the nearest Dreadnaught that had piled onto it.
"Damage?" he asked the pilots as the ship shuddered noticeably from a hit.
"Hull and systems are intact," the senior pilot replied just as tersely, not even turning toward the source of the question. "Prepare for boarding."
"Always ready," the special forces squad commander grumbled, slamming an energy cell into his assault rifle's receiver. "Don't screw this up."
"Badger your own specialists, Captain," the grizzled lieutenant commanding the starship advised him. "My boys know their job."
"No doubt about that," Orsan said without lying.
He stood on the corvette's bridge, watching the massive form of the Star Destroyer loom larger and larger.
And he noticed lights emerging from beneath the ship's belly.
"Looks like we have X-wings," he noted.
"Ready missiles!" the corvette's commander ordered.
Without slowing down, the Raider launched a salvo from its launch tubes, sending a swarm of shaped-charge missiles at the enemy.
The Republic fighters began to maneuver, trying to evade the attack vector, but it did them little good.
The seeker heads had their own opinions on who should live and who should be allowed to flee.
One salvo—and ten of the twelve X-wings broke apart, flaring up like tiny stars.
The corvette heeled over, adding the fire of its own guns, incinerating the last representatives of the Republic squadron.
The Raider surged forward—toward the low-mobility first line of Imperial ships, which, according to scanner data, did not have large crews on board.
The second "line," which, realizing that part of their number had been knocked out by the Dragons' fire from the middle of the Dominion formation, suddenly "came to life," ceasing to be barely maneuverable monitors.
Medium turbolasers began pounding the deflectors with a staccato drumbeat, but the pilots skillfully steered the ship out of the kill zone, also dodging shots from an ion cannon.
The starship, working its main and maneuvering engines, came to a halt near the upper part of the superstructure.
The signal for docking with an emergency airlock rumbled dully.
"Good hunting," the corvette commander wished the special forces squad commander.
"And you, stay healthy," Orsan snorted, putting on his helmet and securing it on his head.
Getting to the airlock compartment took a few minutes.
By the time he arrived, all the forces assigned to capture the ship were already in place, waiting for the order to storm.
Five special forces troopers, 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 troopers and stormtroopers looked like overgrown children playing with mock-ups of real weapons.
And further on, all the way to the hold, several thousand B-1s were waiting, packed into every empty space on the ship.
On each of the corvettes designated for boarding the Imperial-design ships.
"Magnetic locks are cracked," the squad's slicer reported to him, pointing at his own datapad. "Do we proceed?"
Orsan made sure that nothing and no one except the droids was in the potential line of fire from the ship's maw they were ordered to capture.
"Begin," he ordered, lowering his armored visor.
At the command from the datapad, the heavy emergency doors slid open.
Simultaneously, on the Republic side of the airlock corridor, smoke grenades thrown by the special forces troopers fell and began writhing with a hiss, almost instantly depriving the defenders of any chance to see the attackers and mount a proper defense.
Starship crews are practically not trained to repel boarding attacks—that's what special forces or naval infantry units are for.
Specialists from starship crews have entirely different tasks and areas of expertise.
Considering that this "forward detachment" was supposed to have been disabled by the Dominion's ion cannons, it was unlikely to have a specially trained unit on board...
And immediately, the first droid standing at the ship's entrance took a crimson blaster bolt to its barrel-shaped chest.
Then two more.
Another five.
Every single one hit the droid's vital nodes and spots, damage to which would inevitably lead to its deactivation.
The machine crashed noisily to the deck plating without firing a single shot.
"Alright," Captain Makeno said, assessing the nature of the damage inflicted on the battle droid. "So there is someone here worth fighting. Forward!" he commanded the mechanical army that was to bear the brunt of the attack.
The Dominion's B-2s, synchronously raising their right manipulators with built-in blasters, opened a barrage on the enemy.
Droid artificial eyes—photoreceptors—cannot be blocked by a smoke screen from a few grenades.
They know neither fear nor pain.
They have received their orders, and they are hacking through enemy defenses like a hot knife through butter.
The metallic tread of the armored death machines sweeps away the defenders of the emergency airlock and their hastily built barricades.
Blaster fire flows like rivers, and the groans of the wounded are drowned out by the screams of the dying.
First the droids, then, widening the breach, the droidekas crush the enemy squads with their massive and swift advance.
The special forces rush for the ship's bridge, while the stormtroopers conduct clearing operations.
Two minutes—and the deck adjacent to the emergency airlock is clear of Republican defensive positions.
The corridors ring with the metallic clang of droid footsteps and the rumble of rolling droidekas, all heading for every critical part of the ship.
Stormtrooper squads calmly divide their areas of responsibility among themselves, penetrating deeper into the Star Destroyer's innards behind the droidekas.
"Reactor section is under control," Makeno heard the voice of the stormtrooper company commander. "Main and auxiliary power plants are cleared. Enemy destroyed."
Which meant there was no need to fear the ship being scuttled.
The B-2s would organize a solid defense of the Star Destroyer's key decks and compartments, while the droidekas would continue patrolling and eliminating the enemy.
They were not afraid of the Republicans' blasters and heavy weapons—the machines' deflectors could withstand much heavier fire.
The droidekas were merciless—their memory contained all the identification data of the boarding party members. Anyone not matching that description was eliminated on the spot.
Orsan hosed a quick burst into the head of a New Republic soldier who had popped out of the command center.
Together with his squad, he was moving toward a battle raging at the other end of the superstructure, unaware that the Dominion's special forces had already gotten behind them.
More and more soldiers were pouring 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 rounds pierced through the enemy, forcing part of the Republican squad to take cover back where they had just come from.
Taking advantage of the enemy's inability to stick their noses out of the bridge, the five special forces troopers moved closer and closer to their objective.
The Republicans tried to manually seal the bridge doors, but they failed.
The electronics didn't obey them.
And the reason for this was as clear as a Tatooine day.
"Central computer is under control," one of the sergeants reported.
"Backup command post captured."
"Artillery crews eliminated."
"Engine room cleared."
The reports came thick and fast.
Orsan didn't pay attention to them, because he understood how effectively the stormtroopers of the 501st Legion operated.
It was Thrawn's Fist that was leading the first wave, securing more and more new prizes for the Dominion.
At Orsan's signal, one of the special forces troopers threw a flash-bang grenade into the bridge.
The soldiers in black armor shielded their eyes—a blinding flash, accompanied by a screeching sound that drowned out everything else, demoralized the enemy.
The special forces attacked.
The assault rifles fired unerringly, short bursts cutting down the lives of everyone in their path.
Orsan knocked a Republic human off his feet with a blow from his elbow, noticing a command badge on him—a senior officer.
A valuable prisoner.
The enemy tried to land a blind blow on him but received a powerful hook to the jaw, losing consciousness.
Dominion special forces troopers mowed down the fleet personnel who offered resistance with their standard-issue weapons.
In the pits, sentients died with characteristic sound effects—the soldiers showed no mercy to anyone who tried to use blasters or anything deadly against them.
"Order your men to surrender," Orsan said, bending the captive commander's wrist at an unnatural angle, thereby shortening the conversation.
The Republic soldier resisted, and in response, the heated barrel of a blaster rifle pressed against his chest.
"Hurry!" Orsan roared in his face.
After brief but meaningful "talks," the enemy commander used the ship's comlink, already broadcasting what he'd been told.
The roar of battle fell silent throughout the ship.
The surviving New Republic fighters, the remaining members of the small crew, understood that fighting against this death machine—the Dominion boarders—was pointless.
Fifteen minutes after the attack began, the first Imperial-class Star Destroyer among the "Imperial" vessels ceased to be Republic property.
Hundreds of B-1 droids with their grating voice synthesizers scattered through the starship to take the places of the transfer crew.
The captured Republic soldiers—those with enough sense not to get in the way of a battle-hardened professional army—trudged dejectedly toward the ship's barracks under guard of the shock troopers.
For the rest of the battle, they faced the unenviable fate of isolation under the watch of several droid racks and battle droids that had orders to destroy them at the slightest escape attempt.
Captain Makeno, having received data from all groups, watched as fleet specialists appeared on the bridge, the ones who would have to command the ship, whose crew for the time being would consist of B-1 droids.
"Course for the Acclamators," Orsan reminded the officer with lieutenant command tabs.
"I know, sir," the man replied calmly. "We'll pick up the minimum required droid crew for the transfer there."
"Exactly," Makeno confirmed. "The shock troopers and battle droids will stay with you for the duration of the journey to ensure the prisoners and the ship are secure…"
"I appreciate you reminding me of my instructions, Captain," the lieutenant said. "There's no need for that. I know how to command a ship, and I understand the Grand Admiral's plan."
The special forces soldier looked at the fleet smart-ass, gave a silent nod, and headed for the exit, where his squad's fighters were already waiting for him.
"What a smart guy," he grumbled. "He knows Thrawn's plan. I wish I knew it too!"
"Any problems, Commander?" the deputy squad commander asked.
"We're heading back to the corvette, flying out for a new batch of shock troopers and droids, and continuing this merry-go-round," the special forces squad leader gestured to his men that their work here was done.
* * *
The Vice Admiral received a datapad from the silent officer on watch, containing preliminary operational summaries.
He quickly scanned the screen of the portable computer, nodded in satisfaction, then handed the device to the commander.
Thrawn needed only a few minutes of careful reading to study the printout and return the datapad to the commander of the Chimaera.
"As you can see," Grand Admiral Thrawn said, "the loss of three Star Destroyers, while unfortunate news for the Dominion, is not critical. Our boarding groups are making progress."
"That's obvious," Wedge Antilles gritted through his teeth, having been permitted to approach the main viewport.
Luke silently watched as the Chimaera drew closer to the center of the regular Dominion fleet formation.
Admiral Duplex's flagship had already left the system, and strangely enough, no one was even trying to pursue it.
They merely simulated an attack with two Providence-class carrier destroyers, but as Luke understood, it was to expedite the MC80b's departure from the system.
Which was quite unusual for Thrawn, who wasn't used to letting anyone slip through his predatory claws—anyone who could potentially provide the enemy with valuable military intelligence.
But on the other hand…
What could Admiral Duplex actually report to the Fourth Fleet?
That Thrawn had ion cannons mounted on his Venator-class starships?
The New Republic Military Command probably either knew that or at least suspected it.
The question was something else: were the commanders aware that all of Thrawn's starships of that type had heterogeneous weaponry?
Some Venators fired two shots, some fired double shots, and others got by with just one.
But the fact that they all had extreme rates of fire—that was news to everyone.
Whether Duplex had learned that or not was a mystery.
But the result remained the same: starships of Imperial design bearing Republic ID tags drifted like useless pieces of metal within the defensive perimeter of Sluis Van.
So what else could Duplex have reported to Coruscant, since the long-range communication systems weren't blocked?
That nearly all the Dominion's forces were gathered here?
That they had suffered significant losses?
Dozens of heavy cruisers had been pulled back to the rear, toward the Gladiator-class Star Destroyers, escort carriers, strike cruisers, and the twenty-five orbital docks that had clearly already fallen under Dominion control.
A huge number of corvettes were also damaged and being withdrawn to the rear for repairs and return to service—for those that could be.
But they had done their job.
Of the fifty star cruisers that had arrived at the system's perimeter, only ten were still operational—the rest had varying degrees of critical damage, and for the most part, their crews were being evacuated.
Of the twenty-five star cruisers under Admiral Duplex that had been defending the shipyards, only one ship survived—the rest were destroyed.
And what had they accomplished?
Luke had also been able to read what was on Thrawn's datapad screen.
Sixty-three heavy cruisers were damaged so badly that without urgent repairs, they were unlikely to leave the system.
The remaining thirty-seven were destroyed—but for the most part, their crews had been evacuated.
One hundred four of the three hundred Corellian corvettes and gunships were also destroyed; the rest had varying degrees of damage but continued to participate in combat as they could.
Three Star Destroyers had been lost, but the Grand Admiral still had two Providences, three fully combat-capable Star Destroyers, and two severely battered ones.
The latter, incidentally, had been sent to the orbital docks—presumably the Reckoning and the Pillar of Autumn were to be repaired as much as possible.
But that wasn't the strangest part.
Thrawn had just said he had about thirty Star Destroyers in a "sleeve."
And even with a hundred star cruisers from the Fourth Fleet, the New Republic didn't have much of a chance of winning.
Once again, the bet was on starfighters—and in that, the Republic fleet had originally had the advantage.
But the corvettes, the numerous small craft launched from the depths of the heavy cruisers, Venators, Interdictor cruisers, and Interdictor-class Star Destroyers (which, by the way, were also combat starships on the Grand Admiral's side!) had done their job.
As had the armed and surprisingly agile freighters, the numerous Arquitens, and even a pair of Munificents, which were wiping out New Republic starfighters with enviable speed and consistency.
The enemy's starfighters…
At this point, a parity had formed between the warring sides in terms of small craft dominance on the battlefield.
Ships of Imperial design on the New Republic's side could have tipped that balance, 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 yet.
Even the purpose of those same Star Galleons was clear—these ships, along with the Acclamator-class assault cruisers, were constantly docking with Raider-class corvettes.
Perhaps that was where the landing forces for boarding New Republic starships were coming from.
"So, the dry tally of a nearly three-hour battle," Thrawn summarized. "Control has been established over nine Imperial-class Star Destroyers, seven Interdictor cruisers, and eight Victory-class Star Destroyers. The entire 'first line' of Imperial-design starships, which served as a living shield for our ion cannons, is under our control."
Luke could see Iella's fingers clenching into fists.
Watching Wedge's tense back, he could almost feel that the Corellians were about 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.
Luke had stood at the observation viewport then, just like Wedge, helplessly watching as the Imperials—having lured the Republic fleet into a trap—carved them up like butchers at a slaughterhouse.
And even the powerful energy weapon that instantly, without prolonged exchanges, knocked Republic starships out of commission had been 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 numerous ion cannons, disabling New Republic starships in one or two shots.
"You're not counting the starships you disabled with ion cannons," Luke said.
"Of course," Thrawn confirmed. "They don't belong to us yet. But," the Grand Admiral looked at the ship's chronometer, "I think it will all be over in a while."
"A while?" Iella repeated.
"From half an hour to an hour," Thrawn replied "generously," clarifying nothing.
The current situation stirred him to reckless actions, just as it had five years ago.
He wanted to rush forward and cut a path to victory for himself and his friends with a 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, at the bridge crew, who worked imperturbably despite everything.
Would these people panic if their leader fell in battle?
Would they retreat, abandoning the battle in the Sluis Van system?
Would they withdraw to Dominion territory, leaving the New Republic sectors alone?
Would they cease their military operations altogether?
Or was all of this nothing more than speculation, with which the young Jedi was only comforting himself?
But there was no turning back.
Thrawn was the brain of the entire Dominion.
Before his appearance, the Imperials couldn't fight the New Republic, losing almost every battle.
It was quite possible that even without him, the Dominion forces would continue their campaign, but they wouldn't be as impressively combat-effective.
Only strong-willed and charismatic leaders could hold the Imperials together in a single fist.
Thrawn was one of them.
The last of the Grand Admirals.
His death would surely ignite a thirst for vengeance among the Dominion forces, who already possessed a vast fleet.
The light forces captured at the Battle of Sullust.
The Star Destroyers and cruisers that were about to become Dominion property…
But the young Jedi still couldn't bring himself to decide.
He saw the glances Wedge and Iella were throwing his way, but he couldn't…
It would mean losing himself.
Opening himself to the Dark Side.
But on the other hand, leaving Thrawn alive meant condemning all those who served the cause of the New Republic and democracy to death.
How could he look into the eyes of the relatives of those who had given their lives for the triumph of law and freedom in the galaxy, if he didn't make the hard choice in a hard time?
Sacrifice his principles in exchange for the lives of millions, perhaps even billions of sentients…
Who knew when Thrawn would decide to stop.
Who knew what plans he was nurturing.
After all, not much remained of his words about a desire for peaceful coexistence.
Judging by the slaughter he had perpetrated at Sluis Van, Thrawn couldn't care less that he was ruining the planet's civilian population, depriving them of their livelihoods and possibly their lives.
How many glorious New Republic military personnel had to suffer before this finally ended?
So that peace, tranquility, and quiet could reign, and sentients wouldn't die by the thousands in countless violent ways?
Who was responsible for evil like the Emperor or Thrawn taking root in the galaxy?
Shouldn't the Jedi maintain peace and order in the galaxy, quell conflicts, and prevent their escalation?
As they had done in the past, if they weren't willing to take such actions?
When capture was impossible.
When the only correct, the only possible, the only hypothetical option to prevent the New Republic's destruction required breaking what they had been taught?
Or was he misinterpreting the words of Yoda, Obi-Wan, and the others?
Perhaps Thrawn and the rest were right when they said he was nothing more than an apprentice.
On Ossus, he had encountered Jedi serving Thrawn.
And they hadn't hesitated to go into battle.
Was that right?
Or was Obi-Wan's teaching correct: "A Jedi uses his lightsaber for defense, not attack"?
But what if attack was the only correct way to defend?
And there were no other options left—like the Imperial starships crippled by ion cannons, drifting in space directly before the young Jedi's eyes…
Luke felt his mouth go dry and a chilling sweat break 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, turning his chair to look into the man's eyes. Luke looked into the black beady eyes of the brown lizard that the blue-skinned Supreme Commander—and concurrent ruler of the Dominion—was stroking. "Details matter."
"As does the volume of air remaining on the disabled ships," Luke said, not even recognizing his own voice.
But he felt a shock of current in his elbow nerve—he had clenched the fingers of his artificial right hand so tightly that metal groaned and the leather glove began to crack under the strain.
Thrawn didn't take his burning eyes off him.
As if trying to see every detail.
"Quite right, Jedi Skywalker," he said quietly. "General Bel Iblis crewed most of the Imperial-design starships with full complements, hoping they could turn the tide at Sluis Van. But he fell into his own trap."
But the Grand Admiral's words, despite the intonation, rang like a bell in Luke's ears.
Then the sound turned into an unceasing, growing in intensity and volume torrent of dull pounding in his temples.
Luke could barely hear anything around him.
Only now did he understand that all of this—the words, the negotiations, the prisoner exchanges, and everything else—was nothing more than a facade.
Thrawn was exactly the same kind of maniac as most of the Grand Admirals before him.
"You disabled the starships and intend to leave hundreds of thousands of sentients on their decks to suffocate!" Iella Wessiri shouted. "Don't you feel anything inside at such heartlessness?"
"You won't even try to save them?" Wedge hurled angrily.
Thrawn calmly looked at both Republic personnel.
As if he were examining his lunch in the destroyer's mess, no different from what he'd been served yesterday, the day before, and for his entire term of service.
"The answer to both questions is 'no,'" the Grand Admiral replied calmly.
"Why?" Luke could only manage. "You could take them prisoner and then exchange them profitably?"
"Why should I continue doing that?" Thrawn inquired. "Everything you could exchange for your prisoners, I will now take myself. I'm tired of waiting for the New Republic to voluntarily hand over Imperial equipment. But that's not the main thing. A few minutes ago, you were triumphant that the crews of all three destroyers—the Captain Rensen, the Moon Shadow, and the Resolute—had perished simultaneously. I think it's time I demonstrated a reciprocal action for Republic cruelty."
"But your soldiers died in battle!" Wedge Antilles objected to Thrawn's logic.
"And our servicemen are now suffocating in the vacuum!" Wessiri 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 let them," Thrawn reminded her. "They are also dying by their own decision—they joined the New Republic Defense Forces voluntarily. It's unlikely your government has gone mad enough to grab civilians off the streets and throw them at the front. Consequently, this is entirely and completely their voluntary expression of will. It so happens that in war, people kill and die. I offered your government an alternative to military action. But you ignored it. There will be no more negotiations."
"That wasn't negotiations! You gave the New Republic an ultimatum!" Antilles roared. "No one negotiates with those who only dictate their terms."
"And so the time for negotiations has passed," Thrawn reminded him. "I offered you an alternative—give me the ships and receive your prisoners in return. But you found nothing better than to officially ignore me and buy back prisoners privately. Now everything is different."
The Grand Admiral pointed to the battlefield, where, despite the skirmishes, Dominion starships had already begun pulling back from the line of combat contact with the enemy.
Simultaneously, they were towing the immobilized starships away from the Republic forces, preventing them from destroying the ships.
The jam of ships hit by ion cannons, which had piled up so much that they were interfering with the Venators' fire, was gradually "clearing out."
Looking at it, the Dominion forces were clearly acting quickly, efficiently, and skillfully.
As if it had all been rehearsed and the executors had no questions about each other's actions.
As if they were all part of one whole, understanding each other with half a word.
Of course, it could be the obvious use of communication systems, but Luke doubted that.
There was something else here—the Dominion forces were acting too quickly.
In fact, all the starships Thrawn had designated as the "first line" had already been pulled away from the Imperial ships pummeled by ion cannons and had merged with the Grand Admiral's rear units.
By the way they were positioned behind the deployment vectors of the Interdictor cruisers and Interdictor-class Star Destroyers, the enemy clearly intended to begin moving the fleet out of the system.
Capitulation.
And even the fact that the immobilized starships were being towed away from their drift points didn't play a major role in the turning point of the battle.
Republic forces had used similar corridors to send starfighters or ships into attack, but the Dominion destroyed the impertinent enemy with all possible force.
"You are inhumanely cruel, Grand Admiral," Luke said.
"And I am not human," Thrawn declared. "If you haven't forgotten that not insignificant fact, esteemed self-appointed Jedi."
"And what about Palpatine?" Skywalker swallowed the insult and decided to act.
"Clarify your question," the Grand Admiral requested. "Incorrect questions lead to incorrect answers."
"You told us about Palpatine," Luke reminded him. "Judging by everything, you want to use the New Republic as a buffer against the Emperor's attack. But if that's so, why are you destroying our starships and servicemen? They could fight against Palpatine, whom you, by your own words, dislike!"
"I'm not a kindergarten teacher, and you're not a nursery group, Jedi Skywalker," Thrawn stated. "You don't believe my words about Palpatine's return. But you will still do what needs to be done—you will take his blow. Whether you have many or few ships is of the least concern to me. Besides, you have more modern starships under construction. They will serve you better than the obsolete ones the New Republic threw against me."
"And what about the crews?" Iella asked. "Suppose Palpatine attacks soon. What then? You have taken or intend to take most of our Imperial-design ships and are smashing our fleet. You still hold hundreds of thousands of our career soldiers prisoner. Where is the logic?"
"It's simple," Thrawn declared. "You don't want to cooperate with me—so perish on your own. There will be no more negotiations between me and the New Republic. Only, as you put it, ultimatums. You either comply, or you die. That's all."
"You're not just a maniac," Wedge shook his head. "You're also a terrorist." He pointed to the Star Destroyer's main viewport. "You can fool anyone, but not me. I know all your Imperial tricks. You're deliberately leaving the crews on the ships hit by ion cannons so that our starships can't fire properly and won't destroy the captured ships with their fire!"
"You're thinking correctly, General," Thrawn agreed. "A small tactical advantage—nothing more. But besides what you've already said, I also need to clear the space of the already immobilized ships to bombard, capture, and tow the rest."
"Sir," officer Pellaeon, having received new reports, handed Thrawn a new datapad. "The orbital docks are ready to jump out of the system."
"Excellent, Vice Admiral," Thrawn declared. "Send them, as well as the captured and already controlled starships, along route one."
It seemed there were other routes as well…
Immediately after the gray-haired officer dictated the order to the executors, Luke watched with his mouth open as not only the captured ships but also the mobile docks—even those not equipped with hyperdrives—instantly crossed the light barrier.
"How?!" Antilles was taken aback. "How did you do that?!"
"I gave the order," Thrawn replied calmly.
"The attack on Xa Fel," Iella cursed. "That's what it was for! You captured enough hyperdrives to develop units for moving stations through hyperspace."
"So that's how and why the 'Golans' disappear!" Luke gasped. "You don't destroy them, you don't send them into space—you equip them with hyperdrives and move them to the parts of the galaxy you need!"
"Well, I must commend you," Thrawn said. "It took less than a dozen such operations for you to figure it out. Correct me, Vice Admiral Pellaeon, if I'm wrong."
"Sir," the Vice Admiral cleared his throat. "Actually, it did take."
"How troubling," Thrawn raised an eyebrow.
He looked at the battlefield, continuing to stroke his lizard.
"Well, well, well," he said after a couple of seconds. "The transport starships—also a replacement for the carriers—have already been practically withdrawn, and the outer side of the perimeter has been cleared. I suppose the remaining Republic commanders are preparing for the arrival of the Fourth Fleet's star cruisers."
"Which you'll leave nothing of," Wedge growled. "You'll destroy or capture every one of our starships, won't you?"
"On the contrary, General Antilles," Thrawn said with an unexpected smile. "Your fleet will be destroyed by your own forces. By your own commanders."
"That will never happen!" Antilles declared.
"Only in your fantasies, Thrawn!" Wessiri said boldly.
"How is that possible?" Luke blinked.
"Don't rush, young self-proclaimed Jedi," the Grand Admiral advised. "Enjoy the picture of your defeat and the feeling of your own helplessness. It evokes certain memories, doesn't it?"
Luke ground his teeth.
So Thrawn was doing this on purpose.
He had orchestrated everything happening here and was just pulling the strings.
Was he waiting for Luke to snap or something?
But... how was that possible?
Had the Grand Admiral's mind finally clouded over from awareness of his own genius?
"Not much longer to wait," Thrawn assured them. "We already have control over two-thirds of the ships of 'Imperial' design. And nothing stands in the way of beginning the final stage..."
"Ship arrivals at the outer perimeter boundaries!" came a report from somewhere in the "pits."
"Multiple targets!"
"Mon Calamari star cruisers!"
"Registering Admiral Duplex's flagship on the same vector he fled on!"
"They're moving to rendezvous with the fleet!"
"The enemy is preparing to launch starfighters!"
Wedge, after counting the number of arriving ships and surely having completely forgotten what had been said about Thrawn's reserves, smiled sardonically.
"The enemy is attacking with mass starfighter launches!"
"Well, you've trapped yourself now, Grand Admiral!" Antilles said, not without satisfaction.
"On the contrary," Thrawn replied in a calm tone. "I have caught the greatest prize I have ever dealt with."
The Grand Admiral turned his head, looking at Vice Admiral Pellaeon standing nearby.
"We move to the final phase of the operation," Thrawn announced.
"Yes, sir," the vice admiral said, a certain relaxation and peace appearing on his mustachioed face.
He stepped aside, issuing orders as he went.
Luke, exchanging glances with his comrades and co-conspirators, chose to observe what was happening.
And he didn't miss that the armed freighters, the Arquitens-class cruisers, the Munificent-class ships, had opened their hangars and rushed toward the enemy, launching dozens, if not thousands, of starfighters on the move...
"Xg-1 assault gunboats," the Grand Admiral commented. "Armed with multiple launchers for shaped-charge missiles..."
A deep shadow fell over Wedge's face.
He seemed to have aged twenty years in an instant.
"Prepare to say goodbye to your starfighters, dear Republicans," Grand Admiral Thrawn said, stroking the brown lizard lying on his lap.
Luke felt that he no longer had any reason or excuse to hold himself back from what he had planned.
When the first Republican fighters penetrated the screen of starships and entered operational space, hundreds of homing missiles were already flying toward them.
Space filled with numerous explosions, each marking the death of another Republican pilot.
Luke raised his head, stopped studying the deck plating, and met eyes with Iella and Wedge.
He read in their eyes a grim determination to do what was needed to save the New Republic from defeat.
And he nodded in agreement.
There were no other options left.
Grand Admiral Thrawn had to die.
Here.
And now.