The Last Command (Star Wars: The Thrawn Trilogy, #3)

by Timothy Zahn

Yours was one of the more innovative attempts, particularly given how little time you had to come up with it. The fact that it failed does not in any way diminish that.”

And for the first time in five years, Pellaeon finally knew in the deepest level of his being that the old Empire was gone. The new Empire, with Grand Admiral Thrawn at its head, had been born.

Bel Iblis nodded slowly, his lips compressed into a tight line, a hint of strain around his eyes. It was a look Mara had seen only rarely, and then only on the faces of the best military commanders: the expression of a leader preparing to send men to their deaths.

“The whole Rebellion was a highly illegal action bordering on treason, sweetheart,” he reminded her. “When the rules don’t work, you break ’em.”

“History is on the move, Captain. Those who cannot keep up will be left behind, to watch from a distance.”

The long and perilous history Mon Mothma and Bel Iblis had shared had created an empathy between them, a bond and understanding far deeper than Leia’s Jedi insights could even begin to track through. Perhaps, she decided, it was that empathy that formed the true underlying strength of the New Republic. The strength that would create the future of the galaxy.

The Empire rules by force and threat; we rule instead by inspiration and leadership.

No white-hot rage, no fanatical hatred. Just a simple, icy determination. About as dangerous as you could get.

The pause symbol vanished before Thrawn could answer; but it wasn’t the standard quarter-size figure that replaced it. Instead, a huge image of C’baoth’s face suddenly glared out at them, jolting Pellaeon an involuntary step backwards. Thrawn didn’t even twitch. “Good morning, Master C’baoth,” the Grand Admiral said, his voice mirror smooth. “I see you’ve discovered the Emperor’s private hologram setting.”

Admiral Ackbar’s gravelly voice cut in on the comm. “Defensive configuration: Starfighter Command to screen positions. It appears to be a trap.”

So once again, as it had so many times before, it was all going to come down to a matter of trust. Trust in a farm kid, fresh off a backward desert world, to lead him in an attack on the first Death Star. Trust in a former high-stakes gambler, who might or might not have had any real combat experience, to lead him in an attack on the second Death Star. And now, trust in a smuggler who might just as easily betray him for the right price.

“But,” he whispered, “it was so artistically done.” The smile faded. The glow in his eyes did likewise…and Thrawn, the last Grand Admiral, was gone.