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Empire Reforged
Chapter 43: Lines Between the Hull
Location: Kuat Station – Imperial Embassy Quarters, Deck 12A
Date: BBY 7 – Day 22 of Operation "Glass Veil"
Lucan stood alone in his quarters, the faint hum of Kuat Station's orbital infrastructure a quiet rhythm beneath his boots.
The holoscreen on the wall cycled through news from the Core Worlds — ceremonial fleet launches, Senate broadcasts, the usual sterilized noise of Imperial pride. None of it showed what had nearly happened here.
He turned away and exhaled slowly. A datapad rested on the desk, its screen frozen on a ship schematic — a silhouette both familiar and subtly revolutionary. The Sovereign-class Star Destroyer. Not a design he'd proposed, but one revealed to him in confidence by Lady Arinh Kuat, hours after he had saved her life.
Not a reward. An invitation.
—
The door chimed.
"Enter."
Veya stepped through, jacket off, datapad in hand, hair still tied back with typical precision. Her posture never relaxed — not in quarters, not in battle, not even here.
"I ran the decryption packet again," she said, holding the pad out. "Ralo's handler routed his orders through multiple bureaucratic layers on Coruscant. Clean digital trail. Fabricated identities. Whoever's behind it knows the system."
Lucan scanned the data. "They didn't just want Arinh gone. They wanted it to look like mismanagement."
Veya nodded. "Sabotage hidden as internal collapse."
He placed the datapad on the desk and gestured to the holoprojection of the Sovereign-class refit, still rotating in the air.
"She showed me this after the security debrief," he said. "Said she appreciated my… candor."
"You didn't exactly hold back."
"I told her what every captain in the Outer Rim knows. That the ISD-II's exposed domes and fixed fire arcs make it a flying coffin. That we're still losing ships because engineers prioritize image over survivability."
Veya walked closer, watching the Sovereign-class projection flicker.
"She listens. That's rare."
Lucan leaned back against the bulkhead. "She said Kuat doesn't forget its debts. That maybe it's time the Navy stopped forgetting who actually fights its wars."
A silence settled between them — not strained, but thoughtful.
Veya broke it. "You think she'll actually follow through?"
"She already has." He nodded toward the schematic. "Shield relays buried inside the hull. Modular hangar decks. Real CIWS coverage. Rotating turbolasers with 360° arcs. It's not just a new model. It's a change in doctrine."
"And it wasn't your idea."
"No." He looked at her. "But maybe I said what she'd been thinking. Out loud."
Veya folded her arms. "That's more dangerous than you realize."
Lucan smirked faintly. "Everything worth doing is."
He pushed off the bulkhead and crossed to the window. Outside, Kuat's construction ring gleamed under floodlights. Tugs maneuvered kilometer-long hull plates into place. In the distance, a near-complete ISD hung in drydock, its silhouette familiar — and, in his eyes, already obsolete.
"You know," he said, "most officers don't notice a tech hesitating during a fuel line check."
"That's because most officers haven't spent the last two years hunting smugglers, slavers, and saboteurs with a crew of seventy-eight and a hull patched by hand."
She glanced at him. "You're not bitter?"
"No," he said. "I'm ready."
Another pause.
"Thank you," he added, quieter now. "For trusting my judgment. Even when it wasn't protocol."
Veya tilted her head slightly. "You've earned that trust."
She didn't stay longer than necessary. No lingering glances. No shift in tone. Just quiet professionalism. But something passed between them all the same — respect, earned and reciprocated.
As the door closed behind her, Lucan turned back toward the projection.
The Sovereign-class rotated one last time before he deactivated the display.
Not a reward.
Not a promotion.
A sign.
The future wasn't in medals.
It was in steel.
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