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Empire Reforged
Chapter 10: Trail of Shadows
Location: Hyperspace corridor, en route from Lancer's Drift
Date: BBY 8 – 1400 Hours
The hum of hyperspace was constant. Not loud — but ever-present, like a pressure against the hull.
Lucan stood near the navigation console, watching the pulsing data streams being calculated by Ensign Tarris. The Vigilance moved along a staggered micro-jump pattern, following a ghost trail — the subtle gravimetric distortion and residual heat signature left by the YV-929 as it exited the Lancer's Drift system.
"We've got three hours before the next drop point," Tarris said quietly. "They're using an old jump corridor. Sliced nav beacons. Minimal deviation. Civilian-grade evasive pattern, but tight."
"Predetermined or reflexive?" Lucan asked.
Tarris hesitated. "Feels predetermined. Like they're used to running this route."
Lucan nodded. "Then someone's paying for that nav data. They've done this before."
Behind him, Darran leaned against the systems board, arms crossed.
"They're not checking their rear," she said. "No sweeps, no sensor bursts. Either they're arrogant, or they don't expect patrol ships this deep."
"Either way, we keep pace," Lucan replied. "Holtz — status on the engines?"
"Maintaining heat-masked output," came the reply over comms from Engineering. "Power curve's stable, but I wouldn't push it past another four jumps without a full recalibration."
"You'll get it," Lucan said. "After the next contact."
He moved to the central chair and sat, posture rigid. His eyes didn't leave the trajectory display — a rotating 3D model of the corridor, layered with gravitational nodes, beacon remnants, and emergency drop points.
"This route runs close to Baltiq sector," Darran said. "Outer Mid Rim. Trade lanes dried up after the Clone Wars. Nothing of interest on the star maps except old stations and failed colonies."
"Which makes it perfect for hiding something," Lucan replied. "A refit depot. Smuggler cache. A listening post."
She nodded slowly. "Or a mobile handoff point."
Lucan's gaze didn't waver. "If they're smart, it'll be mobile. But if they're greedy, it'll be fixed. Either way, we'll find it."
—
The Vigilance dropped out of hyperspace two hours later, coasting into a system with no name — just a designation: JX-6447.
The star was a small red dwarf, half-buried in a swirling gas cloud. Four planetary bodies orbited it, none inhabited, all scarred by past mining. Asteroids drifted freely between them, and the wreckage of what might once have been a trade outpost spun slowly in the upper orbit of the second planet.
Tactical overlays lit up immediately.
"Trace contact," Valk called out. "Residual ion signature from the gunship — forty klicks ahead, decaying. They dropped here, stayed under twenty minutes, and jumped again."
Lucan stood. "Match the signature. Feed it into the spectral analyzer."
A moment passed. Then Tarris said, "I've got something. While they were in-system, they bounced a tightbeam signal to a position… forty-two degrees below orbital plane."
"Show me," Lucan said.
The screen zoomed. A small moonlet, barely two kilometers wide, rotated slowly near a dust ring. And there — tucked into the shadow between two craters — was a signal repeater.
Old. Camouflaged. Active.
"Another relay," Darran said. "They're bouncing codes through a blind net. They use one relay per jump, then jump again. Never stop long."
Lucan's voice was low. "It's not smuggling. It's a courier chain."
Valk looked up. "You think this is how they move messages?"
"Cortosis was the bait. This is the real network. Communications. Orders. Intelligence."
Darran stepped closer. "You want to intercept the next message?"
Lucan nodded. "Exactly. Tarris, isolate the repeater's loop. Valk, prep a signal skimmer. I want the full data packet copied and mimicked. We'll forward it down the line ourselves."
Tarris's hands moved. "Signal parsed. Decryption… in progress. Multiple layers. This isn't pirate-level encryption. This is military-grade masking — old Republic cipher, Type-6 overlay."
Darran stiffened. "Rebel?"
"Possibly," Lucan said. "But not amateur. This is someone trained."
The silence on the bridge grew heavier.
Holtz's voice came over comms. "Captain, I'm rerouting coolant flow to balance the jump stress, but the motivator's going to need downtime. We're burning hot."
"Noted. One more jump. Then we cool off."
Lucan turned to the bridge crew.
"This is a live chain. That gunship was only one part of it. We copy this message, bounce it ourselves, and see who opens the next door. But the moment we reveal ourselves too early — this whole web burns."
He stepped toward the viewport, eyes narrowing.
"We stay in the shadows. And we see just how deep this signal trail runs."
Outside the hull, the stars whispered nothing.
But the network was listening.