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Empire Reforged
Chapter 14: False Colors
Location: Varn Trill System, Geosynchronous Orbit
Date: BBY 8 – 0015 Hours
The silence after the broadcast was almost oppressive.
The Vigilance floated in low orbit above Varn Trill, perfectly still against the mottled sky of a dying world. Its presence was declared — no stealth, no subtlety, a beacon of cold Imperial steel in an otherwise forgotten system.
Lucan Virex stood at the center of the bridge, gloved hands clasped behind his back. His uniform was sharp, pressed, and regulation-perfect. The image of an officer who belonged exactly where he was.
"Status?" he asked.
"Passive sensors active," Darran replied from tactical. "No hard locks. One civilian freighter just shifted position on the far side of the orbital station. Otherwise, no response."
"They heard us," Valk said quietly. "The whole sector probably did."
"Good," Lucan said. "Now we watch who flinches."
Tarris tapped the helm display. "Contact. Small vessel just detached from the station. Running lights inactive, no transponder, drifting under maneuvering thrusters only."
Lucan's eyes narrowed. "Heading?"
"Descending vector. Skimming orbit. Could be preparing to drop into atmosphere — or slingshot around the planet to make a jump."
"Ship class?"
Valk answered, her voice unreadable. "Modified Surronian Conqueror-class transport. Tight profile. Finned radiators. Built for speed."
Lucan's reply was immediate. "Target vector with fire control. Hold lock, weapons cold."
Darran's fingers moved across her console. "Target marked. If they so much as power a main engine coil, we'll see it."
The vessel drifted closer to the terminator line of Varn Trill, brushing the edge of the planet's night side. It remained silent, but not aimless. The maneuver was deliberate — watching for a response.
Lucan gave it one.
> "Open broadcast," he said.
Valk nodded.
> "Unmarked vessel," Lucan said, his voice sharp and unyielding. "You are operating without transponder clearance in Imperial-regulated space. Identify yourself and transmit cargo and crew manifest, or you will be boarded."
Silence.
No reply.
Lucan waited exactly fifteen seconds.
"Signal again."
A burst of static came through, followed by a clipped male voice — distorted but understandable.
> "We're a supply hauler. No weapons. Running empty. Didn't know this system was on patrol rotation. We're moving on."
Valk raised an eyebrow. "Voice modulated. No ID tag in the carrier wave."
Lucan glanced at Darran. "Do they look like they're running empty?"
"Negative. Mass readings show loaded compartments. Power signature is dirty — could be trying to mask internal systems."
Lucan returned to the viewport.
"Plot an intercept. Keep our lock quiet. If they divert or power shields, disable their drive with precision ion fire. Then we board."
Corren's voice crackled in over the intercom from the security deck.
> "Boarding team prepped. Five-man sweep team ready. Stun batons and breaching tools on standby. We'll bring them in clean."
Lucan nodded once.
The Vigilance moved like a predator—its thrusters barely flaring as it closed the gap. On the tactical screen, the target vessel adjusted trajectory again, now curling toward the planet's outer orbital ring.
"Shields just flickered," Darran said. "Pulse output. Probably a defense cycle test."
"Not civilian behavior."
"No," Lucan said quietly. "It's baiting us."
"Or stalling," Valk added. "Could be waiting for backup."
Lucan made his decision.
"Fire."
The bridge lights dimmed slightly as the dorsal ion turret discharged. A silent bolt of blue-white energy streaked through space and struck the aft section of the target vessel. Its engines flared, sputtered — then died. The ship spun lazily, tumbling into a low drift arc.
"Direct hit," Darran confirmed. "Power core dampened. Shield envelope collapsed. Minimal external damage."
Lucan tapped the comm.
> "Corren. Go."
> "Boarding underway."
—
From the bridge, Lucan watched the tactical feeds as Corren's team launched from the Vigilance's forward bay, crossing the short vacuum gap in sealed shuttle armor. Their approach was swift — magnetic clamps engaged, breaching charge placed, hull breach clean.
Then silence.
A full minute passed.
Valk's voice came low. "Corren's team has interior feed now. Transmitting."
The secondary display lit up. Flashlights cut through a dim corridor. Power was down, emergency lights flickering. Crates lined the interior — but they weren't empty.
> "Command, this is Corren. Confirming contraband — marked crates with tech components, possible shield emitters, encrypted data spools, and unknown alloy ingots. One crewman restrained, two hiding in aft storage. No weapons fire yet."
Lucan's eyes didn't leave the screen. "Secure them. Detain everyone. Bring the manifest back intact."
> "Understood."
Darran glanced over. "You know what this is, don't you?"
Lucan gave a slow nod.
"A supply chain. Equipment. All routed through empty systems. They're not just running messages. They're gearing up."
"For what?"
Lucan's voice was cold.
"For war."
Outside the Vigilance, the stars gave no answer.
But somewhere in the darkness, another node was already waiting.