Empire Reforged
Chapter 9: The Signal That Watches Back
Location: Lancer's Drift System, Asteroid Belt Sector 3
Date: BBY 8 – 1240 Hours
The relay buoy hung in space like a rusted sentinel.
No obvious power source. No transponder tag. No external shielding. Just a small, lopsided communications array sitting dead-center in a low-gravity debris field — slowly rotating on its Y-axis, pulsing out a faint encrypted signal in four-second intervals.
On the Vigilance's bridge, the atmosphere was taut.
Lucan stood at the main command console, eyes fixed on the tactical overlay. Every time the beacon pulsed, a soft audio ping echoed from the bridge comms, like a heartbeat in an empty room.
"It's been broadcasting the same data loop for twenty-three minutes," Valk reported. "Still encrypted. Still no response on passive or active bands."
"Decryption progress?"
"Slow. It's not military-grade, but it's buried behind a recursive scramble. Black market relay software, probably ex-Republic code stripped for pirate use."
Darran leaned against the sensor station, arms crossed. "Why leave it open? A relay that broadcasts without encryption might lure patrols. But one this quiet?"
Lucan nodded. "It's a ghost drop. You don't use this unless you already trust who's coming. Anyone else sees it, it looks like trash."
Valk paused. "Or bait."
Lucan turned toward Holtz. "How's the sensor net?"
"Drone mesh is up. Three recon buoys deployed and synced. They'll flag any sublight signatures within three hundred klicks. We're operating under passive emissions—no active pings."
"Any thermal trails?"
"Nothing recent. No engine wake, no power spikes. But I don't like it."
Lucan raised an eyebrow.
Holtz grimaced. "This thing's designed to be seen by one ship. At one angle. It doesn't want to be found — unless you're the right kind of ghost."
Lucan said nothing for several seconds. The kind of silence that made the crew stop moving just slightly slower, listening to see if they missed something.
Then he spoke.
"Prepare for proximity monitoring. Bridge remains dark. Communications blackout initiated. No external traffic. I want Condition Blue until further notice."
Darran turned. "You're setting an ambush."
"I'm setting a presence," Lucan corrected. "If someone shows up and we move too early, we spook them. If we move too late, we bleed."
She didn't argue.
—
The bridge lights dimmed. Consoles shifted to low-intensity displays. Crew spoke in hushed tones. Internal traffic on the ship dropped to minimal — just maintenance, helm, and security rotations.
Lucan remained at his post.
His eyes flicked between sensor updates and the slow rotation of the relay on the main screen. Every few minutes, the buoy blinked again — four seconds of silent code.
Nothing changed.
Until it did.
"Contact," Valk said, too quietly for drama. "Jump signature detected. Outer edge of Grid Sector Besh-Two."
Lucan stepped forward. "Classification?"
"Small. Civilian-class. Modulated hyperdrive exhaust. Reversion in five seconds."
The countdown ran across the upper screen. Five... four... three...
A flicker. Then a flash.
A ship tore into realspace with a shimmering blue-white ripple — sleek, low-profile, and charcoal-gray in color. It bore no markings, no lights. The design was unmistakable.
"YV-929 gunship variant," Darran said. "Heavily modified. That's not just a freighter — that thing's built to punch."
Lucan's jaw tightened slightly.
The YV-929 was used by smugglers and mercenaries across the Outer Rim. Heavy hull, oversized reactors, and internal turrets. Too tough for pirates. Too aggressive for couriers.
"Do they see us?" he asked.
"Not yet," Valk answered. "We're on their flank, in sensor shadow. If they scan the relay first, they won't detect our profile."
"Engine heat?" Holtz asked.
"Minimal. Our venting protocol's holding. Unless they have military-grade optics, we look like a dead rock."
The gunship drifted closer.
Lucan watched it slow, adjust its yaw angle, and begin rotating—aligning with the relay buoy.
Then the ping changed.
"Relay just switched protocols," Valk said. "Secondary frequency activated. New packet is bouncing back. They're exchanging encrypted tags."
Lucan's hands curled around the edge of the console.
"Confirm drone telemetry. Are we within counter-assault envelope?"
"Drone mesh shows full coverage," Darran said. "Target is in open space, no friendly signatures. If we fire, we hit first."
Lucan hesitated.
He could give the order.
A surprise ion burst. Disable the engines. Board the ship and find out who it worked for.
It was standard Imperial practice.
But standard didn't mean smart.
Not yet.
"Hold position," he said.
Darran blinked. "You're letting them leave?"
"We follow them. Track their vector, trail their signal. If they lead us back to a hub, we'll learn more than this ship could ever tell us."
He turned to Valk.
"Begin signal interception protocol. Tag the encrypted ID signature. Use a ghost buffer to ping back on a time delay — make it look like we're one of their beacons."
Valk's fingers flew across the console. "Done. Our signature's bouncing back at a staggered frequency. They'll think we're background."
The gunship completed its turn.
A moment later, its engines flared — low burn, coordinated.
It left the system without firing a shot.
And the Vigilance was already charting the trail behind it.
Lucan said nothing.
Because for the first time, the ghosts had spoken.
And he was listening.