"Gerris Kashthrak, requesting permission to join the fight . . . I'll relay the details later, for now I also request the use of a Basalisk War Droid."
Suddenly he took note of two pursuing Republic corvettes, charging their weapons. Within seconds his fighter was under a constrant stream of crimson projectiles. After a chain of evasive maneuvers he found himself outmatched under these conditions. The Mandalorian fleet was too far, he wouldn't make it in time. He immediately turned to the corvettes, unloading the vessels payload of concussion missiles upon the nearest ship. Within seconds the corvette began to slow, followed by a immense explosion. Unfortunately Gerris was caught in the oncoming blast and his vessel damaged considerably. Sheer luck had won his previous battles, which greatly attributed to his chances.
But now he had no chance. As his ship slowed and the corvette charged its laser banks for another volley Gerris wondered how his luck had held up even this long. He'd done all he had done to escape and survive, for naught. All to die in this moment. Even as the enemies turrets began to glow crimson, he wondered how long he'd had this coming, he wondered why he wouldn't get the chance to have tales of honour sung about him . . .
Grand Admiral of the Imperial Remnant.
"This one is constantly thinking, analyzing, strategizing. He showed no fear, but was curious, studying me in turn."
"All thoughts are worth listening to, whether later judged to be of value or not."
"I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own."
"But… it was so artistically done."
―Thrawn's last words