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Empire Reforged
Chapter 36: Return Without Applause
Location: ISV Silver Lance, Approaching Centares Naval Ring
Date: BBY 8 – Day 70 Post-Centares Debrief
The silence came in the form of a priority reply.
No debrief.
No context.
Just an order.
> "Commander Virex. Cease all investigative operations. Return to Centares Naval Command for immediate resupply and rotation. Mission classified. No further action required."
Lucan read the message twice.
Then once more, just to be sure he hadn't missed anything that resembled gratitude.
He hadn't.
—
The Silver Lance drifted through the upper lanes of Centares orbital space, its hull scarred from debris grazes and radiation patches accumulated during weeks off the grid. Tired, but dignified. A blade dulled at the edge, not broken.
Darran leaned on the edge of the tactical console.
"So that's it."
Lucan didn't look at her. "That's what they want it to be."
"They got your report. They saw the station, the corridors, the relay drops."
"And still they chose not to react."
"Because reacting means acknowledging."
Lucan gave a slow nod.
"Which is worse than being wrong."
—
They docked two hours later.
Unlike their last return, there were no Intelligence agents waiting. No sealed briefings. No guarded datapads.
Just a hangar crew. Refit engineers. Fuel techs.
Lucan watched from the upper gantry as external droids began realigning the hull's plating. A technician ran diagnostics across the dorsal comms array. Someone barked orders about calibrating the ion flares.
Routine.
As if the past ten weeks hadn't mattered.
As if they'd been gone on a milk run.
He felt the weight settle across his shoulders — not frustration. Not even anger.
Just the clarity of recognition.
They were never meant to be noticed.
They were meant to disappear.
—
Later, in the officer's lounge, Valk slid a tray across the table.
"It's real caf," she said. "Actual grounds. Not vapor brew."
Lucan raised a brow. "Where'd you get it?"
She smirked. "Made friends with a procurement clerk."
He took the cup. Sipped.
It was bitter. Strong. Honest.
"How long are we grounded?" she asked.
"Seventy-two hours, minimum. Maybe more."
"No next assignment?"
Lucan shook his head. "Not yet."
She leaned back. "So what now?"
Lucan didn't answer immediately.
Then:
"We wait."
"Wait for what?"
He looked at her.
"For Command to convince themselves it's over."
—
That night, Lucan sat in his quarters.
The stars outside Centares blinked slowly, their light smudged by orbital haze and refinery glows.
He opened a new log, not under official records — just for himself.
> Personal Log – Unfiled
I sent them the blade. Showed them the sheath it was hiding in. They chose to sheath it again.
They think the quiet will hold. It won't.
So I'll rest. Let them breathe. Let them forget.
And when the signal flares again, I'll be sharper than before.
*Let the fire go cold.
I'll still be waiting in the ashes.*
He sealed the entry.
And somewhere across the galaxy, in another system just beyond the Empire's reach, another relay lit up. Quiet. Steady.
Unseen.
But not for long.
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[End of Arc I: Shadow Lines]
Let me know how you'd like to begin Arc II after the time skip. Ready to plot the next mission thread.