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Empire Reforged
Chapter 29: Where the Lights Don't Reach
Location: Centares, Sub-Level 39 – Civilian Quarter
Date: BBY 8 – Day 10, 16 Hours into Station Hold
The turbolift descended past the security checkpoints without comment.
Lucan wore no uniform. Just a dark coat, boots polished but unremarkable, and a narrow commlink clipped discreetly behind his collar. No rank, no code cylinders. To the system, he was a shadow with a valid clearance.
To the people down here?
He was no one.
The lift doors opened with a dry hiss onto Sub-Level 39 — unofficially called Ashway. A place carved into the bones of Centares decades ago, long before the towers gleamed and patrol cruisers floated through sterilized air.
Down here, carbon smog still clung to the walls. Power lines buzzed in unshielded coils. And the people looked past you, not because they didn't care — but because they'd learned not to hope.
Lucan stepped out and walked.
No escort. No objective.
Just a memory.
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He passed an open food stall where two children argued over a ration chip. The vendor ignored them. Farther ahead, a former cargo bay now served as a market — crates opened as makeshift booths, selling bootleg parts, scrap data chips, and burner comms that hadn't worked since the Clone Wars.
Lucan kept walking until he found a bench welded to a rusted wall and sat.
Watched.
Listened.
In the corner, a woman haggled for power cells using bread instead of credits. Two older men played dejarik with mismatched pieces. A street medic stitched up a man's leg using heat wire and recycled stims.
And above it all: the faint hum of an Empire too far to touch, and too loud to care.
Darran's voice echoed faintly in his mind.
> "You ever wonder why it's you in the middle of all this?"
Lucan didn't need to wonder.
Because he'd lived here once — not on Centares, but in places just like it. Where officers didn't visit. Where patrols only came to enforce quotas or collect "volunteers." Where the lights didn't reach.
Where hope didn't reach.
That's why he never gave speeches.
He knew silence could say more.
—
A small voice broke the thought.
"You're not from here."
Lucan turned.
A boy — maybe ten — stood beside him, wearing a faded Corellian flight jacket two sizes too big and shoes that barely held together.
"No," Lucan said.
"You're military."
Lucan tilted his head. "Why do you think that?"
The boy shrugged. "You don't flinch when the overhead fans kick on. You sit with your back to the wall. And you're not looking at things — you're looking at people."
Lucan nodded slowly. "Good eyes."
"I'm gonna join the Navy," the boy said proudly. "Get off this level. Get out of the smog."
Lucan studied him.
"Is that what you want?"
"It's what gets you food," the boy said bluntly. "And respect. People listen to uniforms. Even if they hate them."
Lucan nodded.
Then reached into his coat and pulled out a thin, matte-gray card — nondescript, blank.
He handed it over.
The boy blinked.
"What's this?"
"Training terminal code. Requisitioned two cycles ago. Still valid."
The boy stared. "But… this could get me blacklisted. They'll track it."
"Not if you use it right," Lucan said.
He paused.
"And if anyone asks where you got it — you found it in a broken datapad."
The boy's eyes narrowed. "You're not like the others."
Lucan stood.
"No."
"I remember where I came from."
—
He returned to the surface three hours later.
Back to polished halls. Steel discipline. Officers who mistook order for truth.
But something followed him — not regret.
Just reminder.
And when he stepped back onto the Silver Lance, Darran was waiting.
"You went off-grid."
Lucan said nothing.
She tilted her head. "See anything worth reporting?"
He passed her a copy of the day's logs.
"All quiet," he said.
But later, in his quarters, he keyed a private file:
> Personal Addendum:
The Empire may hold the stars.
But if it forgets the dust between them — it will lose everything.
He closed the file.
And the Silver Lance slept — engines humming low, command crew resting, and one commander remembering what it meant to feel cold without armor.
The war hadn't resumed.
But Lucan had never stopped fighting.