Chapter 55 · Brother, stranger

Eli looked down the lane, where the sunlight struck the side of an old hauler, bright and merciless. “If I walk through that door right now, I put them at risk. The less they know, the safer they are.”

“Risk from what?” Laro demanded. “The Empire? You were one of them.”

“I was,” Eli said softly. “And then I wasn’t.”

That earned him a long, disbelieving look.

“Wait,” Laro said, lowering his voice. He leaned closer, scanning the open lane behind Eli before speaking again. “You’re not just passing through, are you?”

Eli didn’t answer.

Laro watched him for a long second, then exhaled quietly. “Figures.”

He shifted his weight, gaze drifting toward the cargo stacks. When he spoke again, his tone was deliberately casual.

“Funny thing,” he said. “Traffic’s been strange lately. People saying odd things to each other. Half-phrases. Old codes, twisted up so they don’t mean anything unless you already know what you’re listening for.”

Eli frowned slightly. That tracked. In the Empire, field units used to recycle fragments of outdated comm protocols as ad-hoc identifiers—cheap, deniable, and impossible to standardize.

Laro glanced back at him.

“The moons are brighter on the far side.”

The words landed awkwardly. Not quite natural. Not quite nonsense either.

Eli stilled.

It wasn’t a phrase he recognized—not exactly. But the structure was familiar: directional reference, environmental marker… confirmation embedded in metaphor. The kind of thing you didn’t decode—you interpreted.

A test.

He looked at Laro carefully. “That’s not weather talk.”

Laro didn’t react. “No.”

Eli exhaled slowly, choosing his footing. “Then I’m guessing it means you’re not asking about the moons.”

A pause.

Then, finally, Laro’s shoulders eased—just a fraction.

“Good,” he said quietly. “You’d be surprised how many people try to answer that wrong.”

Eli shook his head. “I don’t know your phrase. But I know what it’s doing.”

“That’s enough,” Laro said.

A few seconds passed. The noise of the docks drifted back in—distant loaders, a shouted order, metal shifting against metal.

Eli held Laro’s gaze. “So,” he said quietly, “what happens if I had answered that wrong?”

Laro’s mouth twitched, but there was no humor in it. “Then we’d be having a very different conversation.”

“Good to know.”

Another pause. Not hostile—measured.

Laro crossed his arms, studying him again, recalibrating. “You’ve changed,” he said. “Used to be I could read you in about five seconds.”

“Yeah,” Eli said. “I miss those days.”

“I don’t,” Laro replied. Then, after a beat: “Less dangerous.”

Eli let that sit.

Finally, Laro exhaled and glanced away, like he’d reached a decision he didn’t entirely like.

“Mostly I move cargo,” he said. “Unregistered routes, flexible manifests. Sometimes that cargo breathes.” He looked back at Eli. “Sometimes it doesn’t want to be found.”

Eli nodded slowly. “That sounds… familiar.”

“I don’t ask too many questions,” Laro went on. “And I don’t fly anyone’s flag. But there are people out here trying to push back—quietly. They need things moved. I help. Mom and Dad don't know about that.”

He tilted his head slightly. “That enough of an answer for you?”

Eli considered him. “It’s enough.”

Another beat.

Then Laro’s eyes narrowed. “Your turn.”

Eli hesitated.

Not because he didn’t have an answer—but because none of the true ones were safe to say out loud.

“I’m not with them,” he said finally. “Not the Rebellion. Not the Empire anymore.”

Laro didn’t react immediately. But something in his posture shifted—less expectation, more caution.

“Then what are you doing out here, Eli?” he asked.

Eli looked past him, toward the far end of the lane where heat shimmered against the hulls.

“I’m following a trail,” he said. “Trying to find someone who disappeared.”

“That’s a dangerous hobby.”

“Yeah,” Eli said. “I’m starting to notice.”

Laro watched him for a long moment, weighing the gaps more than the words.

“…does this trail lead trouble here?” he asked.

Eli met his eyes. Didn’t dodge it this time.

“It might.”

That answer landed heavier than anything else.

Laro swore softly under his breath, then rubbed the back of his neck. “You really know how to bring gifts home, don’t you?”

Eli almost smiled. “I try.”

Silence again—but this one had shifted. Not suspicion anymore.

Calculation.

“All right,” Laro said at last. “Then we do this carefully.”

Eli blinked. “We?”

Laro shot him a look. “You showed up on my dock, didn’t you? That makes it my problem whether I like it or not.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“That’s exactly how it works,” Laro said. “You just forgot.”

Eli held his gaze for a second… then nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Carefully.”

“All right,” Laro said at last. “Then we do this carefully.”

Eli blinked. “We?”

Laro shot him a look. “You showed up on my dock, didn’t you? That makes it my problem whether I like it or not.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“That’s exactly how it works,” Laro said. “You just forgot.”

Eli held his gaze for a second… then nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Carefully.”

A shadow shifted across the hull beside them.

Not fast. Not abrupt.

Just… present, where it hadn’t been a moment before.

Laro’s posture changed instantly—weight shifting, shoulders tightening, instincts snapping back into place. His hand moved—not reaching for a weapon, but close enough to matter.

Eli saw it too late.

“Laro—”

The figure stepped forward from the freighter’s flank, silent as a thought, the brim of his hat cutting a sharp line against the light.

Stent.

He paused just within the edge of the shade, letting the brightness fall behind him. For a second, his face was unreadable—just silhouette and stillness.

Then the light caught his eyes.

Red.

Laro froze.

Not fear, not yet—but the kind of recognition that comes just before it.

“What—” he started, voice tightening. “Who is that?”

Eli exhaled. “He’s with me.”

“With you?” Laro didn’t look away from the figure. “You just said you weren’t with anyone.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Close enough!”

Stent inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging a point in a debate. “Your brother’s statements were technically precise,” he said calmly. “Though I understand how they might be interpreted otherwise.”

Laro flinched—not at the words, but at the voice. Too even. Too controlled.

Too wrong for the setting.

His eyes flicked again—caught the skin tone now, the faint blue beneath the dust and shadow.

And the red didn’t fade.

The realization landed.

“…no,” Laro said under his breath.

Eli rubbed his temple. “Yes.”

Laro took a half step back, recalculating everything he thought he understood about the last five minutes. “You’re not running cargo,” he said. “You’re not dodging Imperials—”

His gaze snapped back to Eli.

“You brought one of them here?”

Stent removed his hat with deliberate calm, as if the gesture itself were part of the explanation. Sunlight fell fully across his features now—blue skin, dark hair, the unmistakable glow of his eyes.

No disguise left to hide behind.

“Commander Kres'ten'tarthi,” he said, with crisp formality. “Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet.”

A beat.

“You may address me as Stent.”

Laro stared.

Then let out a short, disbelieving breath that might have been a laugh if it had found its footing.

“Stars…” he muttered. “You weren’t joking about the edge of the galaxy.”

Eli gave a weak half-smile. “Told you it was complicated.”

Laro dragged a hand down his face, then looked between them again—this time slower, more deliberate.

Trust hadn’t vanished.

But it had… shifted.

“Carefully,” he repeated.

Now it sounded like a warning.

Laro’s voice dropped, quiet but sharp, his gaze back onto Eli. “You’re not working with the Rebellion. You’re not working with the Empire…” His mind caught up with his mouth. “You’re working for the Chiss.”

Stent inclined his head slightly, the gesture precise but oddly respectful. “Your assessment is both swift and correct. Admirable qualities in a human of civilian education.”

Eli muttered, “That’s a compliment, by the way.”

Laro blinked, still trying to find words. “You’re—real.”

“So I have been told,” Stent said evenly.

Laro could only stare. “Stars… you’re actually one of them.”

“I am,” Stent said. “Though I find most human myths concerning my people rather inefficiently exaggerated.”

Laro let out a startled laugh. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t have a scale of comparison.”

“Forgiveness is unnecessary,” Stent replied. “Accuracy suffices.”

Eli rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He talks like that all the time. You get used to it.”

Laro’s gaze flicked between them, disbelief turning slowly into something else—reluctant understanding. “So this is what you’ve been doing all this time,” he said. “Running missions for… whatever this is.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Eli said.

“Really?” Laro gestured helplessly at Stent. “Because it looks like you fell off the edge of the galaxy and brought back a legend in disguise.”

Eli hesitated. “You’re not far off.”

Laro folded his arms, still watching Stent. “And what exactly does the Chiss Expansionary… whatever want with Lysatra?”

“Only what your brother seeks,” Stent said calmly. “A way forward.”

Laro snorted softly. “You two sound like you’re quoting a manifesto.”

“Commander,” Eli said under his breath, “you’re terrifying him.”

“I am merely honest,” Stent replied. Then, with a glance toward Laro, “You have an incisive mind. I understand why your brother values your counsel.”

Laro blinked, unsure if that was a compliment or an autopsy. “Uh. Thanks?”

Eli exhaled and rubbed at his temple. “Okay, before this turns into a cultural exchange, we should probably tell you why we’re here.”

They found a patch of shade under the freighter’s wing, the sun cutting bright slants through the gaps in the hull. The air shimmered, and distant clangs from other docks echoed like heartbeats.

Eli hesitated. “You remember Thrawn.”

“The Chiss admiral,” Laro said. “Hard to forget. You were his aide. He was on every holofeed for years. They said he nearly ended the Rebellion before it started.” His expression tightened.

Eli nodded slowly. “He has vanished. That’s what we’re trying to find out. Where he is”

Laro frowned. “Vanished? I haven’t heard a thing about that…”

“I wasn’t with the Empire anymore when it happened,” Eli said quietly. “I was with his people. The Chiss. The Ascendancy.”

Laro’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them. “So when you say we’re, you mean—”

“We’re on a mission,” Eli said. “Call it reconnaissance, or maybe just… unfinished business. When Thrawn disappeared, it left more than a gap in the Imperial Navy. It left one in the Ascendancy too. We’ve been following what’s left of his trail.”

Laro studied him for a long moment. “That trail lead you here?”

“It ends here,” Eli said. “Or close enough. The transmissions stop just beyond this sector. Everything we’ve found points to the Outer Rim, near Lothal.”

“Lothal,” Laro repeated, as if tasting the word. “Outer Rim backwater, used to be industrial. I’ve never hauled cargo near there, it is on the other side of the galaxy. Too far away from here. Haven’t heard a thing since the Rebellion won.”

“Won?” Stent asked, tone neutral but curious.

“That’s what the holos say,” Laro replied. “But if you ask me, no one’s won anything yet. The Empire’s still burning half the Rim trying to remind people it’s alive.”

Eli nodded grimly. “Sounds about right.”

Laro crossed his arms. “So you’re chasing a missing admiral who was half-myth when he was alive, across a galaxy that’s falling apart?”

“Yes, and in a ship that can barely make two jumps without breaking something. That’s the summary,” Eli said.

Laro stared blankly at him.

“We need a new hyperdrive” Stent announced.

Laro blinked and looked back at Eli. “An hyperdrive you say?”

“That’s it. Or a new ship, whichever is easier to obtain.”

Laro gave a short laugh, low and incredulous. “You always did know how to aim high.”

“I learned from you,” Eli said.

“That’s the part that worries me,” Laro replied.

He turned toward the line of ships glittering in the heat haze, thinking. “I’ll check around the ring—there’s a few independent brokers who owe us favors. Might be able to find you something that won’t draw Imperial attention.”

Eli nodded, relief slipping through his fatigue. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Laro said. “If anyone asks what this is for, I’ll tell them it’s for some crazy off-worlder chasing ghosts.”

Eli smiled faintly. “That’s not far off.”

“Good,” Laro said. “Because around here, that’s still believable.”

He glanced once more at Stent—still calm, still inscrutable—and shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe you’re really doing this.”

“Neither can I,” Eli admitted. “But it beats sitting still.”

Laro rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “How soon do you need it?”

Eli opened his mouth, but Stent answered first. “Immediately. Every hour we remain stationary increases exposure risk—”

“Stent,” Eli cut in quickly. “Do your job, Laro. We’ll wait.”

The Chiss inclined his head, conceding the point.

Laro looked between them, the lines of command and blood blurring in a way that clearly unsettled him. “You really are running on borrowed time, aren’t you?”

“Borrowed, traded, occasionally stolen,” Eli said. “We’ll take what we can get.”

Laro gave a short, helpless laugh, then stepped closer and pulled him into a hug—a full one this time, fierce and grounding. “Stars, Eli. You couldn’t just come home quietly, could you?”

Eli’s voice was muffled against his brother’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

Laro held on a second longer, then stepped back, blinking against the sunlight. “I wish I could tell them. Mom keeps a holo of you in her office, you know. She still thinks—”

“Don’t,” Eli said gently. “Not yet.”

Laro swore softly under his breath. “You’re lucky I’m good at keeping secrets from her.”

“I wasn’t,” Eli said, managing a small smile.

They stood for a heartbeat longer, neither wanting to end it. Then Laro clapped him on the arm, businesslike again. “All right. I’ll see what I can dig up. Give me a day. Maybe less if the right people owe me more than I remember.”

“Be careful,” Eli said.

“Please,” Laro said. “I’ve been careful since you left.”

Laro nodded, voice low again. “Tomorrow. Early. Same spot. And try not to get yourself arrested by nightfall.”

“Working on it,” Eli said.

He turned toward his speeder, still muttering something half affectionate, half exasperated. Dust kicked up around him as the engine caught. He gave one last wave and disappeared down the lane toward the upper docks.

Eli watched until the noise faded, a strange warmth and dread mixing in his chest.

Behind him, Stent adjusted the brim of his hat. “You did not tell him the full extent of our situation.”

Eli shook his head. “He doesn’t need to carry that too. He’s got enough to worry about.”

“A pattern emerges,” Stent observed.

“What pattern?”

“You protect people by omitting truth. It appears habitual.”

Eli gave a tired smile. “If it keeps them breathing, I can live with the habit.”

Stent regarded him for a long moment, then turned back toward the road. “Then let us hope your brother is efficient.”

“He always was,” Eli said quietly.

Sleep didn’t come.

Eli lay in his bunk with the cabin lights dimmed, listening to the Mynock’s usual hum. It was steady and alive, yet his thoughts wouldn’t still. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lysatra from orbit—the pale curve of home—and then his family’s faces.

They’d held a service for him. Laro’s words earlier made that clear. An empty box, a folded flag, the kind of ceremony the Empire gave its fallen to tidy up loose ends. He could almost picture it: his father standing stiff at the front, his mother’s eyes dry from trying too long to find tears that still worked.

He turned onto his side, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes until the memories blurred. He’d imagined coming back to them a hundred different ways. None had ended with hiding on the far side of the port and pretending he was still dead.

The faint scrape of movement came from the corridor. Stent appeared a moment later, wordless as always, the low light catching in his eyes.

“You are still awake,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Not much to sleep for,” Eli replied.

The Chiss regarded him for a beat, then said, “There is a Lysatran establishment within walking distance that serves a dish described as a ‘stew.’ It contains protein, vegetables, and spice. Perhaps food will improve your operational state.”

Eli blinked at him. “You’re suggesting second dinner?”

“Midnight nourishment,” Stent said. “The hour is irrelevant.”

Eli gave a low laugh. “That’s… surprisingly thoughtful.”

“I am capable of observation,” Stent said. “You are unsettled. Distraction through routine is efficient.”

“Comfort through stew,” Eli said. “Didn’t think they taught that at the Fleet Academy.”

Stent inclined his head. “They did not. But observation of you has proved… instructive.”

That earned a real smile, faint but genuine. “Thanks, Commander. Really. But maybe not here. If anyone on this side of the city recognizes me, it’ll cause problems.”

“You fear discovery?”

“I fear explanations.” Eli sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Tomorrow we’ll need some local supplies—fuel, rations, maybe a few spare parts. I’ll pick up some Lysatran food then. The kind that doesn’t come with questions.”

Stent considered this. “You intend to cook.”

“Something like that,” Eli said. “Figure if I’m going to visit home and not see my parents, the least I can do is eat something that tastes like the place.”

A quiet stretched between them—not uncomfortable, just fragile.

Stent nodded once. “Very well. I will handle the security review of the replacement vessel once your brother provides options.”

Eli smirked faintly. “That’s your way of saying ‘get some rest,’ isn’t it?”

“It is a recommendation,” Stent said. “Not a request.”

“Right. Understood.”

He lay back again as Stent turned to leave. The Chiss paused at the cockpit frame, the faintest trace of reflection in his voice. “It is illogical to mourn those who live. Yet you do.”

Eli’s answer came after a long pause. “It’s not mourning,” he said softly. “It’s missing what could’ve been.”

Stent didn’t reply, but he lingered a moment longer before disappearing by sitting down at the pilot seat.

Eli closed his eyes, listening to the hum of the Mynock and the quiet pulse of the city outside.

Tomorrow they’d move again. Not toward home, but toward the answer that waited beyond it.

Once the new drive was in place, they’d be one step closer to Lothal—closer to the end of the trail, and to the man both the Empire and the Ascendancy had lost.

For tonight, Eli let himself believe that was enough.