Chapter 89 · Rhyltos

The planet was small—barely a bright bead on the nav display—but it unfolded into soft greens and muted golds as they broke atmosphere. Forested ridges layered the horizon, and a river delta fanned across the plains in neat silver lines. It looked quiet.

Peaceful, even.

Eli felt something in his shoulders loosen.

The spaceport sat on a plateau just outside a modest town, little more than a cluster of landing pads surrounded by low, slanted-roof buildings built from pale stone. No banners. No stormtrooper patrols. Not even a customs officer doing his best to look intimidating.

Just mechanics. Traders. People living their lives.

The Faded Glory eased down onto Pad Six with a gentle thrum. Stent watched the landing with his usual analytical calm; Tee chirped, excited at the prospect of repairs. Eli simply took a breath, letting the sense of normal settle over him.

A wiry dockmaster waved them forward as they stepped down the ramp.

“Welcome to Rhyltos,” he said. “Landing fee’s twelve credits, fuel lines are functioning, and we’ve got a parts shop that won’t rob you blind. Mostly.” He grinned. “You look like good folk. I’ll tell them not to gouge you too much.”

Eli exchanged a quick look with Stent. “That’s… unusually friendly.”

“The planet doesn’t get much trouble,” the dockmaster said with a shrug. “We like to keep it that way.”

The trade went better than Eli expected.

The Lysatran goods—dried grains, spice blends, and a few pieces of artisanal ceramics Laro had insisted they take—sold well. A merchant with sunburned cheeks and an easy smile paid fairly without haggling to the bone.

Eli pocketed the chips, pleasantly surprised. “That covers fuel, pantry staples, and Tee’s parts.”

Stent inspected the crate of fresh rations: leafy greens, cured meats, soft bread rounds, jars of pickled roots. “This is excessive,” he said.

“It’s called fresh food,” Eli replied. “You should try it.”

“I have. It spoils.”

“That’s part of the fun.”

The technicians in the parts shop spread Tee across three benches like a puzzle they were eager to solve. His dome clicked nervously while they replaced damaged modules, but the techs worked with gentle efficiency.

“He’ll be steadier now,” the lead mechanic said. “We put in a clean memory core and a firmware scaffold. He’ll… grow into himself.”

Tee beeped indignantly at the wording.

“Yes, yes,” Eli muttered, patting the dome. “You’re very dignified.”

Stent added, “Functionality appears restored. That is sufficient.”

Tee emitted a trill that sounded like a polite disagreement.

After refueling, after checking over the hull panels, after stocking the galley with the kind of ingredients Eli had almost forgotten how to cook with, a technician from the refueling station pointed them to some coordinates on the planetary map.

“You’re offworlders,” she said. “If you’re staying the night, try the southern springs. Forty minutes by air. Water’s good for tired bones.”

Eli accepted the suggestion with a grateful smile. “We could use that.”

Stent examined the coordinates. “Thermal data indicates elevated mineral content.”

“That’s the point,” Eli said.

They flew south in the late afternoon, the light slanting gold across the hills. The springs lay nestled in a shallow valley, steam rising in thin ribbons from pale blue pools carved naturally into the rock.

No crowds. Just quiet.

They settled the Faded Glory on a flat outcrop nearby and crossed to the pools. Eli sat on the stone edge, letting the heat fold over his legs, sinking warmth into muscles he hadn’t realized were knotted with weeks of strain.

Stent tested the water with one hand, as if evaluating its tactical potential, then stripped and stepped in with the same dignified calm he applied to everything.

“This is… pleasant,” he said after a moment.

“That’s high praise from you,” Eli said, removing his clothes as well.

“I find unnecessary suffering inefficient.”

Eli laughed softly. “Stent, this is called relaxing.”

“Then it is efficient relaxing.”

The sky darkened slowly, streaked with violet and rose. Steam curled around them in quiet spirals. Tee waited near the ship, chirping occasionally as he sorted through his new internal directives.

For the first time since Tila’s Reach, the galaxy felt almost manageable.

Almost.

Eli leaned back on his palms. “We need to decide our next move.”

Stent nodded. “Lothal.”

“Yeah.” Eli exhaled. “But how we get there matters. The Empire’s tightening everything because of that rumor.”

“We choose the path that avoids unnecessary contact,” Stent said. “And minimizes deviation.”

Eli reached behind him for his datapad and opened the nav charts. The blue glow reflected on the water, soft and flickering. “Then let’s plan our route.”

The night settled around them—warm, quiet, waiting.

And beneath the surface of that stillness, their real journey tightened its pull.