"I have to see her. It's important."

Functionaries. Theron hated how the Republic's bureaucracy operated, laying men and women like stories in a Coruscant skytower. Even with cloned clearances, he'd been unable to schedule an appointment that wasn't three months outside the time frame of right now that he needed.

"And as I've already told you," he could see the dim flicker of the thick cybernetic bar that encircled the back of the woman's bald head from ear to ear as she presumably accessed his mother's schedule, "the Grand Master is a very busy woman. The soonest, the very soonest I can fit you in is on a Primeday in… sixteen weeks' time." Her smile was polite and plastic. His visit in person shaved a month off what he'd been told before, and was as much of a concession as he knew she'd be willing to make.

"Or," Theron countered, turning around to look around the room. "Yes, that will do nicely." He walked over to the couch and sat down. The blue cushion was flat, covered in some sort of roughly woven fabric; he could almost feel the age of it through his backside, telling him the furniture here was just for show. It was probably an antique – and expensive. "I'll just wait. Right here. Until Primeday in… sixteen weeks' time." he parroted back to her, flashing his toothiest grin.

Theron caught the low intensity hum of an outgoing broadcast with his own implant. The woman was signaling security to come remove him – forcibly. 'Well, that escalated quickly.' He'd go, but not before he roughed up the couch. It would feel good to take his frustration out on something. The next penitent they made wait would thank him for it.

"That will not be necessary Wyla," said a voice through a speaker embedded in the desk. "You may send our visitor in."

He didn't waste time gloating, despite the momentary urge to do so. Instead he stood, walked across the room and through the panel which slid open obligingly. It hissed shut behind him.

"Our partnership on Yavin Four does not mean you will be granted unlimited access to me, Agent." Grand Master Satele Shan had angled her chair to watch the HoloNet on a screen on the side wall of her office. She had darkened the windows to block out the glare, although the endless stream of Galactic City's sky traffic was still visible as flickering shadows. A quick glance showed him the Anx Senator, Ru Baruba, showering praise on a convoy of returning soldiers. His resonant voice was modulated for live broadcast, but Theron could still feel the vibration of it echo in his bones.

"This isn't a social visit. It's about one of your staff and I thought you might want the news in person. But if you'd rather I type up a report…"

He had his mother's attention. Pulling the crumpled printout out of his pocket, he handed it to her as she swiveled to face him.

Frowning, she smoothed the paper out and began to read.

He was watching for it, and still almost missed the minute change in his mother's expression before it was shuttered away.

The cheering crowd he could hear faintly in the background might expect serenity from a Jedi, but right now he could do with a little more emotion. "Catch him? Interrogate him the way he wants? Is this how we treat a friend? How we repay him for all he did for us?" he goaded.

"He is not our friend, Theron. He is not our friend and he is not even an ally. He is an Imperial and an agent for the enemy. I do not condone what was said here, but it was his presence and actions that sparked this. That poor man…"

"That poor man? Iven was insane! He would have gladly killed us all and dragged our corpses back to that decrepit temple to prove his loyalty to his master without a second thought."

"And so deserves our compassion. It was the dark influence of the Emperor that brought him to that point."

"Even if he'd already picked a place to mount our heads on the wall?"

Her gaze was stern. "We cannot know what might have happened, if I had been allowed to speak to him. We do, however, know the outcome of Darth Marr's interrogation."

"Yeah." Theron countered. "We got answers that helped us save the galaxy."

"And this letter. Imperial Intelligence may be no more, but were that agent questioned similarly, would his answers aid our military? The SIS? Think of how many lives could be saved, how many planets could be liberated from the Empire's domination, with a fraction of the knowledge he possesses. Do the ends justify the means?"

"It's not the same thing." This conversation was taking a turn Theron didn't like.

"Isn't it?" Satele tapped out a sequence on her desktop and the HoloNet broadcast turned off. "Or is it what differentiates us from the Empire?"

"Then you should have made more of an effort. Isn't that what you Jedi are all about? Redemption and second chances? He might be willing to tell us what he knows." Theron began to pace, and his restlessness took him over to the windows. He looked out, seeing in, watching his mother in the glass' reflection. "He never acted like our enemy, but you still treated him like one."

"I gave him a chance once before. Instead, he and his companions slaughtered the crew of the Brentaal Star, including a Padawan I assigned to a detail on that ship. Your father may have told you how he used to recite the names of his dead every night before he went to bed, until they became too numerous to count. I hold my charges no less dear."

The knowledge that Satele had met Sandor previously came as a surprise, but didn't deflate his growing anger, even in light of this new information. He wasn't getting through to her. He turned back around to face his mother. "You can't choose the orders you follow!"

She maintained her air of steely calm. "I am sure the people of Duro would disagree."

Theron took a deep breath to allow himself time to leash in his temper. He knew now he had gone about this all wrong. He had no idea how to appeal to her as his mother when their familial relationship was tenuous at best. But, he needed the support of someone with more leverage in the Republic hierarchy than he had before he went to Marcus and believed Satele was his best bet. The letter he intercepted was an excuse to meet with her and now his chance was slipping away. 'Should have known guilt wouldn't work. After all, she hasn't exactly expressed much remorse about leaving me with Master Zho. So, scrap plan number one.'

He came around to his mother's side of the desk and gestured for her to move. She slid her chair back, allowing him access to her terminal. His fingers flew over the touchpad, accessing his private files locked behind encryption so complex some might call it art. 'There.'

He stabbed a finger down, and the image became three dimensional. "A few years ago, the SIS got wind of a rumor about the Galactic Republic's Shadow Arsenal being real. The program was decommissioned, but it boils down to a bad mix of military meets science. Analytics' assessment said it was a long shot, because a hidden cache of undiscovered superweapons, well…" Theron shrugged.

"I guess it sounded plausible enough to Ardun Kothe, though." He knew that name would be familiar to the Grand Master. "He put together a group and went off looking. Originally, there were five members but Kothe recruited a sixth out in the field." Theron swiped his palm across the screen, bringing up another picture.

He heard his mother's sharp intake of breath. "His codename for the mission was 'Legate'."

Theron turned to face Satele, leaning back against desk and folding his arms across his chest. "Kothe didn't trust his sincerity to defect."

"Ardun possessed good instincts. If he sensed–"

Theron continued on, as if he hadn't heard her. "Instead, he forced Legate's compliance to commands through code words supplied by another operative, which were implanted during the extensive brainwashing he underwent, overseen by Imperial Intelligence, to make him fit for fieldwork."

"Why do that when there men and women within the Empire's ranks, misguided souls all, who would willingly serve the same purpose? How useful could one man possibly be?"

Theron laughed. "You're asking me that? After Rishi? After Yavin Four? He saved my life, more than once. Considering how much I think of myself, that's about as useful as it gets."

"Which does not answer my question. Ardun Kothe was a good man, and you accuse him of acts that I do not believe him capable of. I ask you again – why?"

"Because the Shadow Arsenal wasn't the only weapon he was looking for." Theron turned back around and palmed through to the next image. "Legate, or Cipher Nine, if you'd prefer his Imperial designation, is one of the Empire's Primaries."

He allowed her a moment to absorb what he'd said.

"I would say it was impossible if I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes." Satele leaned forward and studied the figure, as the relevant statistics scrolled past, superimposed in an iridescent blue overlay. "Your source is reliable? You are certain?" she demanded.

"Absolutely certain."

He didn't tell his mother the other things he'd found in Hunter's files. There were extensive holo simulations pertaining to the Imperial agent's capture and torture. Legate's masters – Jadus, Malgus and now Marr – had enemies who would happily vent their frustrations on one of the Darths' underlings, rather than confront the men themselves. It had been pure chance he'd contacted his fellow agent during the investigation of the Shadow Arsenal and downloaded the file on a whim when poking around for what he was really after. Hunter dropped off the radar when Imperial forces bombed Quesh and, after watching a few of the recordings, Theron sincerely hoped the former SIS was dead. How the other man obtained the information he had remained a secret that died with him.

"Nanorobotics employed in adaptive atomic restructuring. This is a perversion of Sith alchemy we thought lost. This is how the Empire developed their revivification techniques. Do we know its origin?"

"The technology was developed by Arren Adasca."

"But the Adasca line–"

"Wiped out in the Mandalorian Wars, yes. He was Arkoh's nephew. Out of the picture by the time the Arkanian Legacy went down, or he would have taken over the company when his uncle died."

"Why would he give it to the Sith?"

Theron shrugged. "I don't know. Arren is credited on hundreds of Adascorp patents: biochem, nanotech, you name it. But a three hundred year old paper trail doesn't tend to give much mention of motive. Because: reasons is about all I've got." He switched to another slide. "Whatever else he may have been, Arren was brilliant. His masterwork has outlived him by centuries."

He didn't like talking about the Imperial agent as if he was an object, a thing, even though that's what Primaries were – successful prototypes. Gorima's research on Manaan attempted to reproduce the Adasca scion's success, but it was crude by comparison, resulting in grotesques that were little more than mindless monsters. "I don't have any proof," Theron said, "but my guess is that until very recently, he was locked away in some laboratory. With the Empire hemorrhaging credits, though, unless the experiments were yielding immediate practical applications, even the most valuable asset needs to earn its keep. They weren't." he added. 'Or we'd have more trouble than we could point a blaster at.'

"Look. If you ask the Director, he'll tell you I'm damn good at my job. He'll also tell you that I'm stubborn, insubordinate and lucky not to have been arrested or court-martialed. The fact that I can get away with every crazy scheme that's gotten me into trouble and back out again is because of this." He faced his mother and threw his arms wide. "The Republic."

"What he can't tell you – what even I can't tell you – is how many people I've killed. I'm not like you, or the Supreme Commander. My decisions don't keep me up at night. They're dead, and I'm not. Lights out. But having that choice is a luxury that maybe I didn't fully appreciate until now."

He let her come to the conclusion on her own. "You think we should try again. To see if his desire to leave the Empire was genuine."

"I do."

"And you would be the one to approach him."

"He trusts me."

"You trust him," Satele corrected. "You have seen the results firsthand, Theron. Jedi can extend their lifespan beyond what many beings know to be natural. That long…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "The desire to cheat death consumed Revan and kept him from being whole. What we did on Yavin Four allowed him to find peace. What we could learn, the benefits of having this Imperial on our side, does not outweigh the evil he has done or the harm he could cause if the knowledge of what he is became public."

Theron exploded. "Why does what I want never matter to you!"

The Grand Master weathered his rage. "What you want? I believed we were discussing the benefits to the Republic." Her cool stare was unwavering. "Did it ever occur to you, Agent, that meeting this man was not coincidental? That he was chosen, to lure out our most valuable operatives? The Empire may have failed to replicate the technology for their own Infinite Army, but you said yourself it was necessary he be made useful. More guns or more ships will not win us this war. Information is our most valuable resource and if those adept at gathering it are removed, we are crippled."

"No! It's not like that."

"No?" Satele countered. "Imagine if they knew–"

The Grand Master stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes widened. "They do know, though. He knows. You told him." The denial died in Theron's throat and he took a step back, then another, as his mother stood and advanced towards her desk. She banished the holo with a wave of her hand. "Under no circumstances are you to have any further contact with this Imperial. That is a direct order and you will obey it."

"You can't–" he protested, as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

She cut him off. "I have the authority to do so and am exercising it." He heard the background static of an open comm line. "Wyla, please coordinate a meeting between myself, Director Trant and Supreme Commander Malcom at their earliest opportunity." His mother's next quiet words muffled the aide's reply. "You are dismissed, Agent."

"I can explain."

The Grand Master's sedate reply seared him to his core. "There is no need. I understand why you made such a foolish choice. I made a mistake like that myself, once."

Unable to think of a response, Theron turned and left the office.

He walked until he reached the Undercity, miles below the megablock housing the Senate Tower, where he found a vacant speeder station off the main thoroughfare and sank into one of the vandalized seats. His hands still shook, and he held them out in front of him until the shaking subsided and he could breathe without feeling like he was about to start yelling.

"That could have gone better," he said aloud, startling a tooka who was digging into nearby trashcan. It looked up, then dismissed him just as quickly and resumed its scavenging. As much as he was loathe to do it, he steadied himself then slipped into the meditative state Master Zho taught him. It helped him settle his emotions, clear his mind and decide what he was going to do next.

'A mistake.'

Storming down the perforated metal staircases which hung below Galactic City's sprawl like jellyfish tentacles allowed him to approach his mother's statement with more objectivity. He wasn't mad. At least, not about that. It was just her putting into words what he always knew, ever since his parentage was revealed to him. The Jedi were what they were, and he couldn't begrudge them their beliefs, even if hearing it hurt on some level.

His anger stemmed from a different source. Abandoning the Imperial agent simply wasn't an option anymore. It had become personal beyond what he previously believed himself capable of.

Theron leaned back and stared up at the garish neon decorating the ceiling. It served as both sun and stars for those who dwelt below the city's surface, vibrant colors blinking and twinkling in a way true stars never did.

'When did I know?' He thought back. Pinpointing the moment wasn't hard: the Revanite compound was in disarray; the agent's unsubtle entrance provided him the opportunity he needed to escape his captors. Dodging laser fire from crazed HK droids, he'd ducked under a blast door as it slammed shut and come to a panting halt. Looking up, he saw the other man take a step forward, his expression one of profound relief, even as the building shook from orbital bombardment.

"I thought I'd lost you for good."

The imminent threat to the Republic fleet didn't allow him to acknowledge the Imperial's declaration – he had his training to thank for that, he supposed – but Theron had wanted to. Wanted to then, and wanted to now. The trip from Rishi to Yavin aboard Cipher Nine's X-70B Phantom was some of the best time he'd spent in recent memory. Even not so recent, if he was being honest with himself.

Theron ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth. In tending his hurts, Legate, 'Sandor,' he reminded himself, Sandor even replaced the tooth he'd lost in the scuffle on Ziost.

"This is going to hurt," the agent warned, but it hadn't. Theron said as much afterwards, to which the Imperial replied with a tight-lipped smile, "I'm very good at my work." Under the other man's care, Theron's wounds healed rapidly. It allowed him to express his gratitude in a more tangible way, even as they sped towards the confrontation which would separate them, seemingly for good.

The clink of a can hitting the ground drew Theron back from him memories and into the present. The tooka had found what it wanted among the bin's meager pickings and was attempting to wrestle it free, scattering trash onto the street as it struggled with its prize.

'Well, going against orders is practically what I'm known for.' For the first time in as many hours, Theron Shan smiled.

Author's Note: I drew some of the "historical" details this story references from Drew Karpyshyn's novel Star Wars: The Old Republic: Annihilation (Ziost and Duro for this portion). It's a book I highly recommend. Thanks also goes to Wookieepidia for all other things Star Wars related that I simply didn't know enough about and had to look up.

The universe belongs to George Lucas, Disney and Bioware (and whoever else, now) as I'm honestly not sure where Theron and Satele fall now as far as the expanded universe. It seems as if anything that pre-dates the Clone Wars series is still generally considered canon, which makes me happy. Arren Adasca and the Imperial Agent alluded to are mine.

Thank you for taking the time to read this story. I've done my best to proofread and check for errors, so if something's amiss, it's all on me. If you're so inclined, please feel free to review; a critique is as valued as praise.