Chapter 74 · Yitheen

The datapad’s glow dimmed as Eli set it down between them. For a few moments neither moved; the faint vibration of the ship deepened as the navigation orders fed through the autopilot.

Stent finally spoke, his tone measured but softer than before. “You have decided. That is clear. You would have done so with or without my consent.”

Eli met his gaze. “Maybe. But I was hoping you’d come anyway.”

Stent gave a slow exhale through his nose — the Chiss equivalent of a sigh. “I told you once: my purpose is to ensure the success of our mission, and your survival is linked to it. You are determined to test the definition of that word.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Eli said, a ghost of a grin flickering across his face.

Stent’s mouth twitched, nearly a smile. “Then we proceed. But I expect you to continue cooking if we die for your ideals.”

“Deal.”

A low chime pulsed through the ship as the autopilot confirmed the course. Outside, the stars began to shift — distant pinpricks of white sliding slowly as the Faded Glory turned her nose toward the Rim.

They sat for a while longer, finishing what was left of the meal. The galley lights hummed overhead, soft and steady. It wasn’t camaraderie, not exactly — more a quiet understanding between two people who had already run out of places to hide.

Stent finally rose, collecting the empty bowls with a care that was almost ritual. “I will prepare the ship for the next jump.”

Eli watched him go, then glanced at the datapad still pulsing faint blue on the table. YITHEEN blinked in neat white letters across the screen.

He reached out and switched it off. The hum of the engines swelled — steady, inevitable.

Yitheen filled the viewport as a sullen disk of ochre clouds. No lights, no comm traffic, no orbital satellites — just a dead world wrapped in haze.

Stent’s hands moved across the controls with habitual precision. “System scan complete. No active beacons.”

“Good,” Eli said. “Means we’re close.”

The Faded Glory coasted past the planet’s shadow, instruments dimmed to minimal output. The sensors painted the void in muted colors: faint gravity shears, drifting ore fragments, the tell-tale shape of an asteroid belt that didn’t look quite natural.

Eli leaned forward, adjusting the gain. “That formation—see the uniform spacing? Those aren’t asteroids. They’re hulls. Mining rigs, cut up and hollowed out.”

Stent frowned. “Concealment through repurposing.”

“Efficient,” Eli said with a half-smile, echoing his earlier words.

A moment later, the passive receiver caught a narrow-band pulse — a weak signal buried in cosmic noise, short enough to be missed unless you were looking for it.

Stent listened to the rhythmic click through the speakers. “Encrypted identification code. Rebel frequency.”

“Then we’re at the right ghost town,” Eli said.

He answered with a single ping, carefully altered to sound like a salvager’s beacon. The silence that followed stretched long enough for second thoughts. Then the comm light blinked once — acknowledgment.

“Docking vector incoming,” Stent reported.

The coordinates appeared: a tunnel mouth hidden among the hollowed mining hulls, masked behind static and debris.

Eli blew out a slow breath. “They don’t make it easy.”

“Nor should they,” Stent said.

The Faded Glory slipped through the ring of derelict structures, thrusters whispering. Panels of scorched durasteel drifted like slow-turning leaves. Ahead, the dark of the tunnel widened into faint industrial light — a docking bay carved into the belly of a gutted mining station.

As they entered, external sensors picked up power signatures: several small craft, armed, engines cold. A hangar designed for quick launches and quicker evacuations.

Stent set the ship down with textbook precision. “No approach escort. That suggests either confidence or shortage of pilots.”

“Let’s assume confidence,” Eli said, unbuckling. “Makes them sound friendlier.”

Stent powered down the engines, but left the auxiliary systems ready. “Friendly is relative.”

“Yeah,” Eli said, standing. “So’s alive.”

The docking bay doors sealed behind them with a hiss, cutting off the faint starlight from outside. For a long moment, nothing moved. Then floodlights flared to life, washing the ship in stark white.

Eli shaded his eyes. “Guess we’ve got their attention.”

“Multiple lifesigns,” Stent said, watching the sensors. “Five approaching. Armed.”

The cargo ramp released with a soft clank. The air beyond carried the tang of ozone and recycled coolant. Eli descended first, hands visible, posture deliberately casual. Stent followed a step behind, calm and unreadable as always.

A group of figures emerged from between stacked cargo modules — three humans, a Twi’lek, and a Mirialan with a sidearm held low but ready. They wore mismatched gear, old flight jackets and mining harnesses, but their formation was disciplined.

“Identify yourselves,” the Mirialan said.

Eli raised his hands slightly. “Independent traders. Got a carry word from Rinna.”

That earned a visible reaction — subtle, but real. The group exchanged quick looks. The leader, a woman with cropped hair and the bearing of someone who’d seen too many command decks, stepped forward.

“Rinna Vale?” she said carefully.

“She sent us your way,” Eli replied. “Said you’d listen.”

The woman’s gaze flicked to Stent, taking in the blue skin, the posture, the faint echo of Imperial tailoring still clinging to his coat. Her jaw tightened. “Funny. Rinna didn’t mention bringing an officer.”

“Former officer,” Eli said. “We’ve both been... reassigned.”

“Uh-huh.” Her tone made it clear that didn’t help.

Behind her, one of the crew murmured, “Captain?”

She didn’t turn. “Hold position.” Her eyes stayed on Eli. “Rinna’s expected here. She’s overdue by two days.”

Eli felt something twist in his chest. “Two days.”

The captain nodded once. “If she sent you, you wait until she gets here. Nobody moves until I verify that story.”

“That’s fair,” Eli said. “We’ll stay aboard. No trouble.”

“Good,” she said. “Because if you try to leave without clearance, this hangar opens straight to vacuum.”

The crew backed off, still watching. The floodlights dimmed but didn’t go out. The atmosphere held the taut quiet of people who’d lived too long on the edge of discovery.

Eli and Stent returned up the ramp. As the hatch sealed behind them, Eli leaned against the bulkhead, exhaling. “You think she made it?”

Stent’s expression was unreadable. “The odds decrease by the hour.”

Eli nodded slowly. “Then we’d better make ourselves useful before they decide we’re the wrong kind of company.”