Este evento parece ter sido discutido no Guia de RPG do livro . Resumindo, a corrida provavelmente tinha um nome, mas é irrelevante, já que todos estão mortos agora.
The Victory-class Star Destroyer Iron Fist orbited high above the planet designated UR41-284. Like so many of the worlds in the Unknown Regions, the small red planet had no official name in the Imperial charts. If the inhabitants of the world had a name for their planet, it was not recorded on Captain Ferob's datapad. In fact, little more than the raw planet specifications appeared on the Captain's glowing datapad screen. He knew its orbital path, its gravity, its atmosphere content. He knew where the primitive centers of civilization were, what kind of technology level the inhabitants possessed. But he knew nothing of a personal nature. To him, the planet was just another sphere to be charted as his ship continued its five year mission through the Unknown Regions.
The comm unit beeped once, calling for Captain Ferob's attention. It was the command frequency, which meant that Grand Admiral Thrawn was calling from the planet's surface. Ferob reached for the toggle switch without hesitation. To delay, to keep the Grand Admiral waiting, would be to risk the Grand Admiral's wrath. After serving under Thrawn for almost three years, he knew how terrible that wrath could be.
"Ferob here, sir" the Captain said into the comm unit, trying to keep his voice steady. He respected Thrawn, he even feared him, but he still had trouble keeping his revulsion to himself. How could the Emperor make this ... this alien ... a Grand Admiral?
"The inhabitants of this world refuse to submit to the Emperor's will, Captain Ferob," Thrawn informed him, his voice full of the calm ruthlessness the Captain had come to know so well since heading into the Unknown Regions with Thrawn. "I am providing you with the coordinates of a portion of the major village cluster. Begin bombardments on my mark. I want you to level everything within a seventy-kilometer radius of those coordinates without touching the coordinates themselves. I want that portion of land to remain intact."
"Understood, Grand Admiral," Ferob responded, entering the orders into his datapad. He ejected the data card and handed it to his first officer, who would pass along the orders to the gunners and make sure they were carried out to the letter.
"A question, Captain Ferob?" the Grand Admiral asked through the still open comm channel. Perceptive as always, Ferob thought. "If I may sir," he started tentatively. "What's so important about those coordinates?"
"Art, Captain," Thrawn said, a touch of excitement creeping through his command voice. "The coordinates bound the village cluster's museum district."
"Of course, sir," Ferob said, remembering the Grand Admiral's peculiar obsession. "Should I prepare your pick-up team?"
"In good time," Thrawn responded. "For now let's teach this world what it means to deny the Empire. You may begin the bombardment, Captain Ferob."
"And then the art, sir?"
"And then the art."
The bombardment began ...
