Chapter 83 · Operation Blue Ghost

The Lambda’s ramp lowered with a hiss. Cold, bright light poured inside — Imperial white, harsh as judgment.

Eli’s boots hit the deck first. Heat gathered under his uniform collar immediately. He could feel sweat between his shoulder blades before they moved a step. Klyssos’s hangar was lined with officers. Two perfect rows, stiff-backed, silent.

A display normally reserved for sector officials or Moffs.

Not dead admirals.

When Stent appeared behind him, the reaction was instant. A ripple through the formation — not movement, but stillness. Shock turned into discipline. Fear into reverence. A few officers nearly raised their hands in salute before remembering protocol.

Eli swallowed hard.

They believe this. Stars help us, they actually believe this.

The captain in front stepped forward, voice trembling despite the effort to mask it.

“G–Grand Admiral Thrawn. Welcome to Klyssos.”

Stent inclined his head a fraction — the exact amount Eli remembered from the Chimaera. Precise. Deliberate. Lethal in its subtlety. “Proceed.”

The single word tightened every spine in the hangar.

Eli followed two steps behind, just like old times, wishing his heart would stop trying to escape through his ribs.

As they moved deeper into the station, Eli became aware of one thing:

Every pair of eyes tracked Stent. Not him. Not the escort. Only Stent.

Technical officers froze mid-task. A stormtrooper nearly dropped his rifle. Someone whispered, “He’s alive,” before being elbowed sharply by a superior.

Stent never broke stride. Eli tried to match his steadiness and failed spectacularly. Everything about the environment screamed Imperial authority: the smell of sterilized metal, the rhythmic hum of synchronized generators, the mathematical order of every corridor, and the heavy gravity of protocol in every breath

Two officers fell into step ahead of them — their official escort to the relay core. Eli kept his eyes forward and repeated Rinna’s last advice in his head: Don’t look scared. Look tired. Imperial aides always look tired.

Too easy. He felt terrified and exhausted. After multiple turnings, the escort led them to a reinforced door pulsing with pale blue light — the relay sector.

One officer tapped the panel. “Access chamber is prepared, sir.”

Stent stepped forward, impossibly composed. “Open it.”

The steel split like a wound.

The relay core was a cathedral of computation. Ceiling lost in darkness. Racks of humming data towers glowing with slow, synchronized pulses. Cables descended like arteries from the rafters. The low, resonant vibration made Eli’s teeth buzz.

Stent walked in first. The escorts remained respectfully behind the threshold. One bowed. “Grand Admiral, shall we remain—?”

“No.”

The word cut like a wire. Firm, uncluttered, absolute. “You will wait outside until further instruction.”

The officers bowed themselves out in a hurry. The doors hissed shut.

Eli drew a slow breath. “That was… convincing.”

“It was accurate,” Stent said, already moving toward the main control nexus.

Eli pulled the slicer module from his jacket and jacked it into a port beneath the console. The device hummed as its decryption threads spread through the system like silver veins.

“This’ll take a few minutes,” Eli whispered. “Maybe less.”

Stent stood still, watching the doors. Waiting. Like a statue that could kill the moment it decided to.

The door hissed. Eli nearly jumped out of his skin. A young lieutenant stepped inside, face pale but polite. “My apologies, sir. Security requires confirmation of a protocol update—”

Stent turned just enough to look at him. The shift in posture alone stopped the officer mid-sentence. Eli held perfectly still, fearing a single twitch would shatter the illusion.

The lieutenant swallowed hard. “The… ah… the new anti-slicing directive states—”

“Irrelevant,” Stent said.

The lieutenant blinked. “S–sir?”

Stent stepped closer — slow, controlled, predatory. Eli recognized the pacing. He’d seen Thrawn advance like that once, in the presence of a captain who had displeased him. “You are quoting procedure without knowing its purpose,” Stent said. “A common failing.”

The lieutenant’s voice cracked. “I—I meant no disrespect—”

“You meant to demonstrate diligence.” Stent’s tone softened, but only slightly. “A commendable but misplaced instinct.”

The officer’s chest expanded with terrified pride.

“Return to your post,” Stent continued. “And log your initiative. I will remember it.”

The lieutenant looked like he’d been handed the keys to the galaxy.

“Yes, Grand Admiral!” He saluted — awkwardly but fervently — and hurried out.

As the door sealed again, Eli sagged against the console. “Stars,” he whispered. “You nearly killed me.”

“I did nothing to you,” Stent replied.

“That’s the problem!”

He turned back to the download — 74%, climbing.

The slicer module chimed.

New files materialized on the interface — tangled strings of fleet movements, supply lists, convoy reassignments, all from the final months of the Seventh Fleet’s existence.

Eli scanned through them, fingers flying.

“Here—look.” He enlarged a set of cross-referenced files.

PRYCE DIRECTIVE Lothal. Date stamps close to the fleet’s disappearance.

Eli’s heart thudded. “Governor Pryce… she was Thrawn’s political headache. Always pulling strings, trying to stay indispensable.”

Stent’s expression sharpened. “I recognize her name from Chimaera command briefings. Her influence was… disruptive.”

“These files show her issuing direct commands to Seventh Fleet logistics,” Eli said. “That shouldn’t have happened unless something huge was going on.”

Stent nodded slowly. “This confirms connection. Lothal holds answers.”

Eli swallowed. “Then that’s where we go next.”

Before Stent could reply, the console flashed: AUTHENTICATION UPDATE INBOUND.

Eli’s blood ran cold. “They’ll notice the forged clearance any minute.”

Stent looked at the door. “Then we walk.”