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Empire Reforged
Chapter 27: A Final Echo
Location: ISV Silver Lance, Mid Rim Patrol Sector Delta-Echo-5
Date: BBY 8 – Day 7 of Patrol Deployment
The bridge of the Silver Lance held a heavy silence.
Not tension — not fear.
Discipline.
Lucan stood near the viewport, watching the last light of a dying system fade behind the ship. Six systems cleared. Three pirate encampments dismantled. One mysterious crash site archived. One unacknowledged voice transmission still humming in the encrypted buffer.
And now, one final signal — barely a whisper — had drifted across the long-range array.
Valk looked up from her station.
"Repeating pulse. Civilian band overlay. Format matches rebel courier code fragments — maybe Fulcrum-level, but heavily masked."
Lucan stepped toward her.
"Location?"
"Drifting on the edge of Drosca Void. Outside patrol lanes. Null sensor zone."
Darran raised her head. "That's technically not our jurisdiction."
"Nothing out here is," Lucan said. "That's why it works."
Holtz chimed in from engineering. "We've pushed the drive coil hard over the last week, but she'll hold for another jump. Just don't ask her to chase anything slippery after that."
Lucan nodded once.
"Tarris — plot us a sublight entry. No direct jump. I want to ease in from the void's outer drift. Low emissions."
"Aye, sir."
Valk narrowed her eyes. "You think this is bait?"
"No," Lucan said quietly.
"I think this is farewell."
—
They entered the edge of the Drosca Void six hours later.
No stars. No signal pings. Just sensor static and the low hum of background gravimetric noise. The Silver Lance moved slow — steady — engines barely flaring against the darkness.
Tarris tapped his display. "Picking up the signal again. Stronger now. Looks like a repeater drone — modified Imperial frame. Early model. Unarmed."
Lucan watched the tactical display.
One object. Dead center of nothing.
"Bring us within twenty klicks. Launch recon probe. Passive scan only."
Darran leaned forward.
"No escorts?"
"No."
"And no answer to challenge code?"
"No."
She frowned. "Then what is it?"
Lucan's voice was calm.
"A grave marker."
—
The recon probe approached the drone. It was rusted. Broken in places. But still pulsing — a heartbeat in the dark.
Valk filtered the decrypted stream.
"Audio log embedded," she said. "Timestamped… seventeen years ago."
"Play it," Lucan ordered.
A voice filled the bridge. Tinny. Clipped. Female.
> "If you're hearing this… it means we failed.
The chain's broken. The data's lost.
Maybe that's for the best.
We tried. We ran the line as far as we could.
But you can only run blind for so long before the dark takes you.
If you came looking for answers, there aren't any left.
Just this.
Don't let them rewrite everything.
Don't let them bury us."
The recording cut.
Silence returned to the bridge.
Tarris swallowed. "Sir… that wasn't rebel code. That was Imperial."
Valk nodded. "Cross-referencing ID signature... That message was logged under Clearance Level T-2… tied to an intelligence officer named Major Selan Veris. Officially marked missing in action. Seventeen years ago."
Lucan stared at the holo-drone.
"Not missing," he said. "Just abandoned."
Darran stepped beside him.
"This isn't an operation anymore. It's a cover-up. Whatever this network was — the Empire killed it, or lost it. And someone's been trying to finish what was left."
Lucan gave a slight nod.
"And now it's done."
He turned to Valk.
"Log the drone. Encrypt the log. Don't transmit it. It stays with us."
"Aye, sir."
He faced the crew.
"This was the last thread. No more signals. No more ghosts. We did what Intelligence couldn't. We found the end."
Tarris gave a cautious nod. "And what now, Commander?"
Lucan's reply was sharp. Clear.
"Now… we do what the Empire pretends it does."
"Protect."
—
Later, in his quarters, Lucan keyed in his final log for the patrol arc.
> Command Log – Entry 05
*Relay network dismantled. All known contact nodes secured, abandoned, or destroyed.
Courier protocols disrupted. Independent archives intercepted.
One final log recovered. Final node tagged and archived internally.
Moral effect on crew: firm.
Tactical readiness: high.
Strategic summary: ghosts don't need to be hunted.
You only have to outlive them.*
He closed the log.
Outside the viewport, the Void rippled with faint light.
The Silver Lance turned silently toward the next system.
Unaware that history had just been edited again —
But this time, not by Intelligence.
By a man who refused to forget.