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Empire Reforged
Chapter 28: We Leave Nothing Behind
Location: ISV Silver Lance, Returning to Centares Command
Date: BBY 8 – Day 9 of Deployment (Post-Patrol Re-entry)
Centares hung in the viewport like a coin beneath a dying flame — too bright, too ordered, too safe.
The Silver Lance cruised in at quarter thrust, running silent except for the legally mandated IFF ping. Imperial Control responded immediately. Protocols had changed since Lucan's last return.
> "Silver Lance, you are cleared for High Dock Two. Acknowledge escort protocol and transmit secure manifest."
"Do we comply?" Darran asked quietly from the XO chair.
Lucan gave a single nod. "Send everything. But send it under audit code: Directive 57."
That earned a look.
"Command-level inspection flag?"
"If someone wants to bury what we found," Lucan said, "they'll have to do it in front of a recorder."
Valk smiled faintly. "Leaving the datapad on the Emperor's desk, are we?"
"No," Lucan said. "Just not leaving it under his desk."
—
The docking bay hissed open under heavy airlock pressure. Lucan descended the ramp flanked by Darran and Corren. The rest of the bridge crew followed behind, crisp and silent in regulation blacks, boots echoing on the durasteel plating.
Two Intelligence officers were waiting.
Different uniforms. No nameplates. Gray.
Lucan offered a regulation salute. He did not smile.
One officer held out a datapad.
"You've returned ahead of schedule, Commander."
Lucan accepted the datapad and keyed the manifest forward.
"Mission scope expanded. Contact made. Data acquired. Network terminated."
The second officer raised a brow. "You shut down an entire node chain. On your own initiative."
Lucan's tone didn't shift.
"I followed your directive. I investigated, documented, and neutralized. Anything you failed to anticipate is above my pay grade."
A flicker of emotion passed across the officer's face.
That was a mistake.
Lucan saw it — and didn't forget it.
The first officer cleared his throat. "The data will be secured and reviewed. You and your crew are ordered to remain on Centares for thirty-six hours pending further assignment."
Lucan nodded once. "Understood."
But he was already done listening.
—
Three hours later, Lucan stood on an upper balcony in the Centares Strategic Quarter, looking down at the dark curve of the command tower's glass façade. Behind him, traffic shuttles moved like precision darts — silent, perfect, forgettable.
Darran stepped up beside him.
"They're debating what to do with you."
"I know."
"You broke their model. Made noise in a place that was supposed to stay quiet."
Lucan nodded. "And now they'll either promote me to a cleaner leash… or send me into a place no one else wants to look."
She studied him. "Do you care which?"
"No."
"Because you want to keep chasing this?"
Lucan's eyes stayed fixed on the skyline.
"No," he said softly.
"Because I think it's already chasing me."
—
At 1800 hours, the crew of the Silver Lance received sealed debrief packets and restricted reentry privileges. The ship was moved to an isolated maintenance bay. Three armed technicians took custody of the data core and the recovered drone.
Officially, nothing had happened.
Unofficially, command logs tagged Silver Lance as "Strategic Asset — Probationary Black."
It was a designation no one spoke aloud.
But Lucan knew what it meant.
They would use him now.
But they no longer trusted him.
—
Later that night, in a cold room five levels underground, Lucan opened the last audio packet recovered from the Drosca Void.
A woman's voice. Not the one from the prior log.
Younger.
Smoother.
Familiar.
> "This is for whoever follows.
If you're not Empire… survive.
If you are…
…then remember: orders change.
Truth doesn't."
Lucan closed the file.
Then deleted it.
Not out of fear.
But because he didn't need to hear it again.
He'd already lived it.
And in the dark that followed, the Silver Lance prepared — engines cold, armor sealed, crew unshaken — for whatever the stars demanded next.
The mission was over.
The war was just beginning.