Star Wars: Light Empire

Chapter 11: The Ghost Fleet

Three months later, the cockpit of the Stray Comet was unrecognizable. Where there had once been a sense of cramped, quiet desperation, there was now the low, thrumming hum of a prosperous, multi-faceted enterprise. The main holoprojector was no longer just a star-chart; it was a dynamic, sector-wide map displaying the real-time status of their entire fleet. Six glowing icons moved along separate, colored trade routes: the Stray Comet herself, and five blocky, utilitarian symbols designated Hauler Alpha through Hauler Echo.

Valerius, his feet up on a console, was no longer just watching for pirates. He was a fleet manager, scrolling through cargo manifests and fuel consumption reports sent from his logistical droids light-years away. Jax stood before the main display, a cup of real caf in his hand, his eyes not on any single ship, but on the entire symphony of their operation.

"Sev," Jax said, addressing the ship's AI, his voice calm and authoritative. "What's the status on Hauler Delta's delivery to the Sullustan system?"

The AI's clean, text-only response appeared on a side monitor. HAULER DELTA ARRIVAL IMMINENT. LOGISTICS DROID TD-4 REPORTS NO ISSUES WITH THE PORT AUTHORITY.

"Good," Jax nodded. He turned to Valerius. "Captain, TD-2 on Hauler Bravo is reporting a spike in the motivator's energy consumption. It's still within tolerance, but flag it for replacement after this run."

Valerius grunted, tapping a few commands into his datapad without looking up. "Already on it. I've scheduled a swap at the orbital depot above Ord Mantell. Five hundred credits. The droid can oversee it itself." He paused. "That's the third motivator we've had to replace from that supplier on Christophsis."

"I know," Jax said. "Tell Sev to blacklist them. From now on, we source all our motivators from the Corellian sector. It's a five percent price increase, but their parts have a failure rate of less than one percent. It's a better investment in the long run."

This was their new normal. It was a complex dance of logistics, remote management, and high-level strategy. The days of desperately flying a single, volatile cargo load through a pirate-infested nebula felt like a lifetime ago. They were no longer just surviving. They were managing. They were growing.

Valerius leaned back, a genuine, easy smile on his face. "Remember when we thought a thousand-credit run was a big deal?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Jax allowed himself a small smile in return, thinking of his own private balance sheet, a number that grew with every successful delivery made by his silent, unseen fleet. 'We've built a good foundation,' he thought, his eyes already scanning the horizon for the next opportunity, the next limit to overcome. 'But it's still just a foundation.'

Valerius, still smiling, leaned forward and brought up a different screen on the main holoprojector. It was a clean, professional-looking financial summary, compiled by the AI.

"You know, I ran the quarterly numbers last night," he said, his voice laced with a humor Jax had never heard before. "Just for fun." He pointed to the final, glowing figure at the bottom of the statement. "One point two million credits, Jax. Net profit. After paying for the new motivators, the droids' maintenance, fuel, docking fees… everything. In my entire life," he shook his head, a look of genuine awe on his face, "I never thought I'd see a number like that attached to my name."

While the captain marveled, Jax did his own silent accounting. His 25% share of that profit was three hundred thousand credits. The System confirmed it with a quiet cascade of updates in his mind.

NEW BALANCE: 317,112 POINTS.

He felt a momentary sense of vertigo. 'Just under a year ago, I was dead,' he thought, the memory a distant, faded photograph. 'Ten months ago, I was eating garbage to save up twenty-five points. Now…' The number was so large it felt abstract, unreal.

"We're set, kid!" Valerius clapped his hands together. "We could sell the fleet, buy a small moon, and retire!"

"We could," Jax agreed, his voice thoughtful. But his eyes were on the AI's other display, the one that showed missed opportunities. "Or we could aim higher."

He manipulated the display, dismissing their own profit summary and enlarging a massive contract the AI had flagged as OPPORTUNITY: BEYOND CURRENT CAPACITY.

"Look at this, Captain," he said, his voice taking on the same focused intensity it had when he was navigating the asteroid field. "A corporate contract. The construction of a new orbital station in the Atrivis sector. They need heavy pre-fabricated habitat modules, power cores, atmospheric processors… the works." He highlighted the payout for a single delivery run. "Half a million credits."

Valerius squinted at the screen. "So? That's for the big boys, the Kuat Drive Yards mega-haulers. We can't touch a job like that."

"Why not?" Jax countered. He gestured to the icons representing their fleet. "Because our ships are too small. Our entire fleet, all five automated haulers and the Comet combined, couldn't move one of those habitat modules. We've built a fantastic, profitable business hauling boxes and barrels, Captain. But we're leaving the real money—the construction, the terraforming, the colonization contracts—on the table."

He looked at Valerius, his expression serious. "We've hit a ceiling. It's a comfortable ceiling, but it's a ceiling nonetheless. We've perfected the art of hauling small things. To grow, to get to the next level of the game, we need to be able to haul big things."

Valerius was quiet, the celebratory mood gone, replaced by the dawning realization that Jax was right. He stared at the half-million credit contract on the screen, a prize so close, yet so completely out of their league. Their incredible success had only served to reveal a new, even bigger mountain they had yet to climb.

Valerius stared at the half-million credit contract on the holo-display, a prize so vast it seemed mythical. He let out a low whistle and shook his head, a wry, resigned smile on his face.

"So that's it, then," he said, leaning back in his chair. "We're a short-range, light-cargo company. It's a good living, kid. A damn sight better than I ever dreamed of. There's no shame in knowing your limits."

"It's not a limit, Captain," Jax said, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "It's just a bigger door. And we just need a bigger key."

'He's right, this is a good living,' Jax thought. 'But I didn't come back from the dead to make a good living. I came back to build something that can't be broken. Something that can't be taken from me again. And that takes more than a fleet of delivery drones.'

He accessed the System once more. The numbers in his account now gave him the confidence to browse in a way he never had before. His mental search terms were no longer for tools or small advantages. They were for cornerstones. Heavy Freighter. Capital-class Transport. Modular Hauler.

He found what he was looking for, a vessel from a universe where ships were designed not just to haul, but to endure. He replaced the contract data on the holoprojector with a new 3D model.

The ship that appeared in the air between them silenced Valerius completely.

It was a beast. Where the Stray Comet was a battered pickup truck, this was a rugged, industrial leviathan. It had a long, powerful-looking main fuselage with a commanding cockpit at the front, but its most striking feature was the massive, detachable cargo module slung underneath its body like a remora on a shark. It had four powerful, tilting engines for atmospheric flight, multiple automated defense turrets, and even what looked like a small, docked snub fighter at its rear. It wasn't just a freighter; it was a self-sufficient expeditionary platform.

"What… what is that?" Valerius finally whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I've never seen anything like it. It's not Kuat, not Corellian…"

"It's from a different design philosophy," Jax said, his own voice quiet as he admired the image. "A 'Constellation-class' modular freighter. The cargo pod underneath can be swapped out. One for raw ore, one for liquids, one for prefabricated structures like those habitat modules. It can even fit a ground exploration vehicle."

He let Valerius absorb the ship's impossible versatility. Then, he added the final, shocking piece of data. He displayed the price beneath the hologram, translating the number from his private vision into their shared reality.

Cost: 500,000 Credits.

Valerius let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, completely devoid of humor. "Half a million. You really are crazy, kid."

Jax didn't laugh. He looked at the beautiful, powerful ship on the display, his eyes burning with the fire of a man who suddenly sees his destiny laid out before him.

"No, Captain," he said, turning to face his partner. "I'm ambitious."

He gestured to the hologram, to the image of the ship that would make their current fleet look like a collection of toys.

"That is our next step. That is how we stop hauling boxes and start building new worlds. That is our seat at the table."