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Empire Reforged
Chapter 22: Forward with Eyes Behind
Location: ISV Silver Lance, Departing Centares High Orbit
Date: BBY 8 – 1300 Hours
The docking clamps released with a mechanical groan.
On the bridge of the Silver Lance, the lights brightened by three percent. Automatic system initialization cycles completed. One by one, station monitors switched from standby blue to operational amber.
Lucan Virex stood at the helm dais, hands behind his back, posture unreadable.
"Thrusters to station-keeping," Tarris reported. "Dockyard released. No drift."
"Bring us to vector clearance," Darran ordered from her chair to the right of Lucan. "Full nav sync to patrol arc Delta-Zero-One."
The Arquitens-class cruiser slid from orbit like a blade easing from its sheath.
Outside, Centares shrank behind them. The black of space expanded ahead.
Lucan remained silent.
It wasn't the stars that held his attention.
It was the coded transmission still burning in his datapad, delivered just before departure.
> From: Fleet Intelligence Node Cresh-1
To: Commander Lucan Virex
Proceed with caution. You are now inside your own report.
—
By 1400 hours, the Silver Lance had cleared Centares gravity well and initiated its first assigned sweep.
The mission was routine — on paper.
A three-system patrol near the Scillan Corridor, long known for low-priority mining traffic, occasional pirate harassment, and little else. The official objective: route stabilization and anti-piracy visibility.
Lucan knew better.
The Scillan Corridor sat uncomfortably close to one of the jump lanes marked in the relay archive — a "cold" system, marked non-viable, but suspiciously adjacent to multiple smuggler routes and abandoned stations.
Darran joined him at the center console. "Orders hold. No deviation unless confirmed contact. Intelligence wants to keep appearances tight."
Lucan nodded. "That means the next contact will be baited — not intercepted."
Valk turned from comms. "I've re-tuned our long-range sensors to watch for packet compression pings. Any signal bursts riding sublight or relay protocols will be flagged."
"Good."
Holtz chimed in from Engineering. "Drive core's running smooth. She's not fast out the gate, but she'll sprint when needed."
Lucan folded his arms behind him.
"We'll keep the burn low. Let them think we're complacent."
He turned to the crew.
"This ship may be new. But the game isn't. Someone will test us again. I'd rather we test them first."
—
By 1630, they entered the first system — a barren field of static-filled gas clouds and a single fractured moon orbiting a dead world. Sensor drones reported no active life signs, no comms activity, and no energy discharges.
But Darran frowned at her console.
"This system shouldn't be this clean. There's usually junk signals. Echoes from mining drones or fuel rig markers."
"Could've been wiped," Tarris said. "Pulse disruptor could scrub beacon remnants."
Lucan didn't respond. He moved to the viewport.
The stars beyond the gas cloud shimmered faintly — like heat ripples in vacuum.
"What do you see?" Darran asked.
He didn't answer.
Not at first.
Then:
"They're not hiding anymore. They're waiting for us to get lazy."
—
Later, in his quarters, Lucan sat at his desk — uniform jacket draped over the back of his chair, datapad glowing dimly.
He keyed in a log entry.
> Command Log – Entry 04
*Patrol status initiated. Sector-wide visibility restored. Systems nominal. Morale: steady.
Intelligence oversight confirmed. Observation likely to continue through all future ops. Crew briefed under standard parameters — full risk not disclosed.*
No contact yet. But the silence is not real. It's the pause before the needle drops.
*Addendum: Darran adapts. Holtz stabilizes. Valk watches everything. This ship is ready.
And I am not here to be useful. I am here to be sharp.*
He ended the log.
No ceremony.
Lucan stood, buckled his coat, and returned to the bridge.
Because something was coming.
And he would see it first.