WING RACE... NO MORE!!! I

Lorraine watched as the Wing Race's final volley struck the Death Star's shields, each explosion flickering like a dying ember. Her expression didn’t change. To her, this was merely the predictable last act of a beaten enemy—an outcome she had foreseen and prepared for. When the last missile struck, its blast dissipating harmlessly against the shields, she knew the battle was over.

In the aftermath, the void was silent. The debris of the Wing Race's once-proud fleet drifted lifelessly, scattered across the cold expanse of space. Only fragments remained to mark the valiant stand of a race that had fought to its last breath.

Lorraine stood in her command post, gazing at the holographic display of the wreckage. Her officers waited, but she closed her eyes for a fleeting moment, perhaps acknowledging the courage displayed in their final moments.

"Prepare the Death Star to advance," she commanded, her voice sharp and devoid of emotion.