The doors to the command center slid open with a muted hiss, and Lucan Darkar stepped inside.
At 66, the lines on his face etched from years of living and fighting made him look old—but his presence still demanded respect.
The dim lighting caught the worn out Mandalorian armour he wore—a silent proof that once, he had been more than just a space station administrator.
He came to a halt a few paces in, lowered his head respectfully, and thumped his chest with a closed fist. "Lord Sylas."
Sylas, seated on the raised command chair, looked down with a flicker of interest in his eyes.
"You don't strike me as someone meant for a place like that space station," he said, voice calm, measured. "The armour. The posture. You were special forces. Tell me your story."
Lucan straightened. "Yes My Lord. I served the Crimson Empire… in a unit called Black Ravens."
Sylas nodded slowly. "I believe I have heard the name but I am not quite sure where."
"We were indeed very popular back in the day and we earned every bit of it," Lucan confirmed. "Well until our final mission. Intel claimed it was a routine strike on a minor rebel base. It was a trap. Jammers. Anti-air fields. Orbital mines. They knew we were coming."
He paused, jaw tightening with old pain. "My brothers and sisters in arms—all of them were killed. I was the only one that crawled out."
Sylas leaned forward, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair. "And then you resigned."
Lucan gave a quiet, bitter laugh. "No. The Empire offered me a promotion. A fleet command. I accepted."
His expression turned hard, almost empty. "A week after rejecting invitations from various factions in the Empire, my son and daughter-in-law were found dead—wrong place, wrong time, they said. Three days after that… my wife was gone too. Pod accident, they claimed. But I knew. I had stepped into a game I wasn't meant to play. And they reminded me."
He looked Sylas dead in the eye. "So I walked. Gave up everything. Used every favor, every credit, every old war bond to take the station. I brought in widows of my team. Their children. Before long other people joined, rejects with no where to go, ones in need of jobs and we hosted them. "
A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint hum of electronics.
Sylas stood and walked slowly toward Lucan. "Your story isn't over, Lucan. You have experience I need."
He stopped in front of him. "Work for me. No games. No politics. No backroom betrayals. Just action and you answer only to me."
Sylas was able to see that Lucan was hesitant so decided to give him time.
This type of people loyalty couldn't be forced.
"You know what Lucan, take a few days to think about it. Don't worry even if you do reject my offer I wouldn't make it hard on you. There are a lot of roles you could fill in here on base. Dismissed"
Lucan bowed, "Thank you my Lord."
*******
Lucan Darkar sat alone in his quarters, staring into the mirror.
His reflection was older, marked by time and loss, but his eyes… his eyes still held the fire of a warrior.
Back when he was handed the station he had tried to convince himself that he had left that life behind.
When he left the base going on patrol around the station.
He occasionally hunted down pirates and the excuse he always gave himself was that he was doing it for the safety of the space station.
A necessity.
But deep down, he knew the truth.
He missed it.
The battlefield.
The rush of adrenaline.
The feeling of knowing, without a doubt, that he was exactly where he belonged.
Now not only would he get that but he wouldn't have to divide his mind looking after his kids anymore.
With a sigh, he stood, adjusted his coat, and made his way back to Sylas's command center.
The doors slid open with a quiet hiss. He stepped inside, bowed respectfully, then looked Sylas in the eye.
"I've thought about your offer," Lucan said. "And I'd like to return to active duty. However, I would like to make two request."
Sylas leaned forward slightly, listening.
"First, I don't want my grandson sent on any dangerous missions. Second, the people from the station—my people—should be treated well."
Sylas nodded. "I don't plan to throw anyone to their deaths," he assured him.
"I'll utilize people based on their skills and desires, not force them into a role they're unsuited for."
Lucan studied Sylas for a moment, then gave a small nod of approval.
He straightened, thumped his chest, and saluted.
"Captain Drakar, reporting for duty."
Sylas nodded but raised an eyebrow. "I have to ask—why didn't you make any special requests for Allison?"
Lucan chuckled. "Allison's a big girl. She can take care of herself. Besides, Lady Sera seems to have taken an interest in her. That alone tells me she'll be just fine."
Sylas smirked. "Fair enough."
He folded his arms. "Now, let's talk numbers. How many people do you think we can draft to start the army?"
Lucan considered for a moment before replying. "Most of the people on the station are workers. But 300 men are combat-able."
Sylas nodded. "Good. Begin recruitment immediately."
He turned to Sera. "Would it be possible to rework the advanced pods and use them for combat training?"
Sera tilted her head slightly, processing the request. "It's possible, but it will take time. I'll start making the necessary modifications."
"Good but don't worry it not on the list of priority." Sylas said.
He then turned to Allison. "We have a ship delivery arriving tomorrow. Be ready for it."
Allison nodded. "Understood."
Sera added, "I'm also designing better armor for our soldiers. They'll need superior protection if we're to build an effective force."
Sylas nodded approvingly. "Open a new project file for that. Give access to Lucan and Allison."
Sera input the command without hesitation.
Sylas stood from his chair, looking at the three of them.
"We have three years to prepare," he said, his voice steady and filled with authority.
Lucan, Sera, and Allison straightened and bowed.
"Yes, my Lord."