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Empire Reforged
Chapter 49: Strike Orders
Location: Eriadu Naval Bastion – Fleet Briefing Hall 12
Date: BBY 6 – Day 6 Post Operation "Glass Veil"
The war room was too clean for what it represented.
Flat holoprojectors glowed in sterile blue. Chairs were arranged in a circle of hierarchy — no room for debate, just approval and nods. Above them hovered the symbol of the Imperial Navy, proud and hollow.
Lucan sat near the rear of the room, among a dozen other captains. Each bore the posture of command, but only a few had eyes that had seen real battle.
Admiral Kassius Konstantine stood at the center. A tall, sharp-jawed man with polished boots and a voice like a broadcast.
"The Partisan threat," he declared, "has grown beyond tolerable limits. Our sources indicate that Saw Gerrera's splinter faction now controls six outposts across the Outer Rim, including two former Separatist redoubts and a munitions depot stolen from a rebel convoy."
He tapped the console, and the blue glow shifted — images of dusty worlds, jungle terrain, desert bases carved into rock.
Lucan recognized one: Jedha's outer ridge sectors.
"These terrorists have no allegiance to the Rebellion's main body," Konstantine continued. "They are anarchists. Fanatics. Without discipline, without mercy."
He paused for effect, then nodded to his adjutant. "Task Force Apex will be deployed immediately. Each captain will receive planetary assignments within forty-eight hours. Staggered strikes — coordinated pressure. No retreat. No negotiation."
Lucan leaned forward. "With respect, Admiral — what intelligence support will be assigned? These regions are known to be sensor-jammed. And Gerrera's fighters use civilian cover."
Konstantine frowned, more insulted than challenged. "You will receive what you require, Commander. Victory demands resolve — not excuses."
Lucan didn't reply. Veya, seated just behind him as ISB oversight, tapped a note onto his wrist terminal:
> No recon teams. No special assets assigned. This is brute force doctrine.
We're the only ones thinking three steps ahead.
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Hours later, aboard the Silver Lance, the mood was tight.
Lucan stood at the center of the bridge while tasking orders were distributed. The fleet was splitting into four strike elements, with his ship — still lightly armed compared to a proper destroyer — assigned to the Outer Grid Patrol, tasked with interdiction near Onderon's supply routes.
Darran read from his panel. "We're to escort a supply convoy toward Sector Bellis and conduct long-range scanning of nearby asteroid clusters."
"Sounds like bait," muttered Milar at gunnery.
Lucan nodded. "We're the decoy."
He looked at the projected route. It passed dangerously close to a known Partisan hotspot — a mobile base hidden among orbital debris, last sighted two weeks ago by a TIE scout group that never returned.
Lucan turned to Veya. "Any update from ISB?"
"Not official. But I intercepted chatter between two logistics runners. There's a chance this convoy is hauling sensor relays — meant to flush out hidden insurgents."
"So they're using us as a tripwire."
Veya didn't deny it.
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The Silver Lance departed Eriadu twelve hours later, accompanied by two Gozanti escorts and a freighter block that moved like a target-rich banquet across the void.
Lucan stood on the command deck, quiet but alert. His crew was efficient — better than ever. This wasn't the same ship that had left Kuat a year ago.
Veya joined him at the viewport.
"You're thinking too many steps ahead again," she said with a ghost of a smile.
Lucan's voice was low. "I'm thinking we're being thrown into a kill zone with half a fleet and no plan."
"You're not wrong."
They stood in silence as hyperspace swallowed the stars.
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