The shuttle was unmarked.
Its transponder registered as a freight drone—outdated, harmless, and legally invisible to Outer Rim sensors. It broke from hyperspace on the dark edge of the Aurex system, shielded by an artificial comet field designed to distort energy readings.
Inside the cargo bay: one occupant.
The clone.
Mirror-Toren sat motionless, wrapped in a black cloak lined with sensor-shielding mesh. His expression was blank. Too still. Too calm.
A voice crackled through his earpiece.
"You are not him. But you are enough. Land within Range Sector Seven. Use the shadows. Use what he would."
The clone nodded once.
No hesitation.
He was the shape of Toren.
But with nothing inside.
Not yet.
Aurex's perimeter defenses registered a low-impact entry near the jungle ridge, flagged as meteor detritus.
Tarn and Mira were already up when the alert pinged.
"No heat trail," Tarn muttered. "No propulsion residue. But something landed."
They geared up fast—boots crunching the undergrowth as they approached.
Tarn had the rifle.
Mira had her eyes.
They found the mark first: a footprint in the moss. Deep. Heavy.
"Not a drone," she whispered. "A person."
Then they saw the second mark—
A scorched patch of tree bark, too clean.
Tarn crouched. "Controlled burn. Camouflage."
They turned—
And saw a shadow moving through the trees.
Mira's hand shot up—signal for freeze.
But Tarn's hand trembled.
Because the silhouette…
...was Toren.
Or something that looked like him.
Mirror-Toren moved like the real one.
His footfalls were measured. His head tilted just enough when he heard a leaf snap. He stopped before he reached the clearing—as if he knew it was a trap.
From behind the cover, Tarn whispered, "What in hell—?"
Mira stared. "It's not him."
"How can you tell?"
She didn't blink.
"Because he would've spoken by now."
She stood. Boldly. Out into the open.
The figure stepped forward—slow, predatory, testing.
"Who are you?" she asked.
No reply.
Just a stare.
A near-perfect imitation.
Tarn aimed. "One more step—"
But the figure turned and vanished into the brush, leaving no trace.
Gone.
Mira's voice was sharp. "He was studying us."
Tarn muttered, "Or trying to decide what not to say."
Back in Aurex, Toren reviewed the sensor footage.
He watched his double frame by frame.
"Every movement's right," he said. "Every angle. Even the way I pause."
Kora replied with something new:
The clone mimics function. But not pulse. Your Force signature resonates at 17.2-frequency. This one... emptier.
Toren nodded slowly.
"I need to face him. Before the people do."
Mira touched his arm.
"And if he beats you to them?"
He looked at her, steady.
"Then we make sure they know the difference."
She hesitated.
Then kissed him again, quick but firm.
"You'd better win."
He managed a smile.
"I intend to."