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“Enough,” Mon Mothma said in a quavering voice. Her cheeks were flushed, which served to highlight the pallor of her skin. “We have debated this many times,” she said, “and my opinion stands unchanged. A weapon of such hideous destructive power is a brutal and inhuman device. The Emperor might have been monster enough to consider using it, but under no circumstances will the New Republic be party to such barbarism. We have no need for such a weapon, and its presence only serves to divide us. I shall veto any attempts to study the Sun Crusher further, and I will fight to my last breath any of you who suggest using it against any foe, Imperial or otherwise.”

She looked at her military commanders, and Wedge felt intimidated by the anger and sheer conviction in her voice. The vacant seat of Admiral Ackbar, who was normally a voice of sanity and moderation, remained empty and hollow like a deep wound. Wedge silently urged Qwi to speak up again, to tell her idea.

As if on cue, she said in her melodious voice, “Excuse me, but might I make a suggestion? Since the Sun Crusher cannot be destroyed by any normal means, we should use the automatic pilot to send it into the heart of a sun, or at least to the core of a gas-giant planet, where it will be impossible to recover.”

General Crix Madine spoke up. “A gas-giant planet would be sufficient. The pressures at the core are far beyond what even our most sophisticated vessels can withstand. The Sun Crusher would be out of reach for all time.”

Bel-Iblis looked around, his dark eyes flashing. As if sensing defeat and realizing that a gas planet was marginally more acceptable than the blinding fury of a star, he said, “All right, dump it into a gas giant then, for whatever good it will do.”

Mon Mothma raised her hand as if to issue an official directive, but Bel-Iblis interrupted. “On a related topic, I hope you have not forgotten that the Maw Installation itself remains a threat. The Imperial admiral may have taken her Star Destroyers, but the scientists are still there inside the black hole cluster. According to General Solo’s report, they have a fully functional Death Star prototype.” He sent a challenging look toward Mon Mothma.

Chewbacca lurched to his feet and bellowed. His roar echoed through the chamber, stopping all conversation. Threepio waved his golden metallic arms. “Not yet, Chewbacca, not yet! It’s not our turn.”

But Mon Mothma looked at the agitated Wookiee and acknowledged him. “You have something to say to us, Chewbacca? Please.”

Chewbacca spoke a long rumbling sentence in his Wookiee language. As he spoke, Threepio stood beside him and translated quickly in his prissy synthetic voice.

“Chewbacca wishes to remind this auspicious gathering that not only is Maw Installation the home of numerous highly intelligent Imperial scientists, but it is also a prison for some number of Wookiee captives who have been held for nearly a decade. Chewbacca respectfully wishes to suggest—”

Threepio raised a metal hand in front of the Wookiee’s mouth. “Slow down, Chewbacca! I’m doing the best I can.” He faced forward again. “Excuse me. Chewbacca respectfully wishes to request that the New Republic Council consider an expedition to Maw Installation, both as a rescue party and as an occupation force for the installation.”

Chewbacca roared but Threepio did not seem disturbed. “I know that’s not what you said, Chewbacca, but it’s what you meant—so be quiet and let me finish.

“Ahem, with such an occupation force the New Republic can ensure the security and whereabouts of whatever unpleasant weapons have been developed at Maw Installation. Chewbacca thanks you for your time and consideration, and he wishes you to have a pleasant day.”

Chewbacca cuffed him, and Threepio sat down in a stiff-legged tumble of golden arms and legs. “Oh, do be quiet,” the droid said. “Every change I made was an improvement.”

Mon Mothma looked to the gathered Council members. All of them seemed pleased with the suggestion to send a force to Maw Installation. Qwi Xux backed toward