“Yes, sir,” Pellaeon said, turning back to the group of one-quarter-size holographic figures standing before him in the Chimaera’s aft bridge hologram pod. “Begin the countdown,” he told Pellaeon, his voice as calm as if he were ordering dinner. After nearly a month of frenzied preparations, Thrawn’s master campaign for the Empire’s final victory was about to be launched.īut if the Grand Admiral was feeling any tension, he was keeping it to himself. This was not just another tactical strike against the Rebellion, after all-not a minor shipping raid or even a complex but straightforward hit-and-fade against some insignificant planetary base.

The stress he himself was certainly feeling. “Sir?” Pellaeon said, searching his superior’s face for the stress the Grand Admiral must be feeling. “Very good, Lieutenant,” Grand Admiral Thrawn nodded. “The task force is beginning to check in.” “All systems show battle ready, Admiral,” the comm officer reported from the portside crew pit. Gliding through the blackness of deep space, the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera pointed its mighty arrowhead shape toward the dim star of its target system, three thousandths of a light-year away.

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