Chapter 81 · No Backup

A stolen Lambda shuttle had arrived from another rebel cell, their crew would participate in the mission.

Inside, the shuttle smelled of machine oil, sterilized filters, and the faint static of Imperial circuitry warming up. Most of the original consoles were intact — the crisp, angular layout, the sharp-edged readouts, the familiar hum of military-grade processors.

But here and there, Rebel additions clung like makeshift bandages: a secondary nav screen strapped to the bulkhead with cargo mesh, a power regulator spliced in under the comm panel, a battered override box wired into the ignition in a way that would’ve given any Imperial engineer a stroke.

Just inside the cockpit doorway, a narrow scorch mark marred the frame — the unmistakable kiss of a blaster bolt.
Eli’s eyes lingered on it.

“Let me guess,” he murmured. “Negotiations were short.”

Rinna, passing behind him, only smirked. “The pilot took offense at being reassigned.”

Stent sat in the crew section, back straight, hands folded over one knee, the white uniform settling around him like it had been cut for this exact moment.

He waited the way senior officers always waited — patient, composed, radiating the expectation that the galaxy would adjust itself around his schedule.

Eli buckled into the seat across from him, checking his blaster again even though he’d already checked it twice in the corridor. Stent noticed.

“Nervous?” Stent asked.

“Reasonably,” Eli said.

“Then your senses are functioning properly.”

Eli snorted. “Thanks.”

Captain Marae entered the cockpit with Rinna at her side. Marae carried a datapad filled with briefing updates. Rinna looked like she’d barely finished adjusting Stent’s hair before being pulled into the next emergency.

Marae handed Stent a small metallic chip.
“This is your clearance trigger. It won’t fool a thorough scan, but it’ll get you through the first handshake. After that, it’s all on posture, cadence, and luck.”

“Luck is inefficient,” Stent said.

“Yeah,” Marae replied. “But sometimes it keeps you alive.”

She turned to Eli. “You’re his aide. You speak only when necessary. You reinforce the illusion, and you watch his back. If you see anything off, you get him out.”

“I know the drill,” Eli said.

“Do you?” Marae asked quietly.

Eli held her gaze. “Yes.”

Rinna interrupted, pressing a small case into Eli’s hands. “Last-minute gear. Compressed scrambler charges, a silent signal beacon, and a very tiny knife.”

Eli blinked. “A knife?”

“Don’t laugh,” Rinna said. “It’s saved my life twice.”

Stent examined the knife with mild interest. “It appears… insufficient.”

Rinna grinned. “That’s the point.”

They boarded fully, the shuttle’s ramp sealing behind them with a hydraulic sigh.
The moment the clamps released, Eli felt the mission settle around him like a weight — not crushing, but present.

Stent leaned forward, studying the Imperial protocol files Marae had loaded into the console. His eyes moved with unnerving speed, absorbing every nuance: voice signatures, formal phrasing, command order etiquette.

Eli watched him, uneasy admiration stirring in his chest.
“You’re studying like you’re about to take a promotion exam.”

“Am I not?” Stent asked, deadpan.

Eli groaned. “Please don’t make jokes in the middle of an Imperial infiltration.”

“It was not a joke.”

“Somehow worse.”

The pilot — a grizzled human with more scars than patience — called back:

“Strap in. Launching in thirty.”

The engines revved, humming through the deck plates.

Marae stood in the entry frame one last moment. “We’ll be in the shadows. No comms. No backup. If you’re caught… well. Don’t get caught.”

Stent nodded. “Adequate advice.”

Eli muttered, “Remind me why we agreed to this?”

Stent looked at him, steady and certain.
“Because the alternative is ignorance.”

The shuttle lifted off, rising through the hollowed tunnels of Yitheen’s asteroid shell.
When they cleared the last bulkhead, the stars opened before them — cold, sharp, waiting.

Their heading: Klyssos.

Their disguise: a ghost.

Their chances: fragile.