12 ASC

"There are two hundred missiles in the Shadow Arsenal. Only takes one to destroy Kaas City. Threat alone should make the Sith surrender."

Some tiny part of Legate's mind ran calculations and asked questions. It tried to figure out how much time he had before his new treatment of serum overrode the brainwashing the Empire had inflicted on him. It estimated the damage two hundred bombings on the scale of Kaas city could do. It checked the risk of moving now, even with his programming, to take the Shadow Arsenal out of play, and weighed his life against the lives of everyone who might be lost if it were used. A small part, running the numbers of every risk he'd just been faced with.

The larger part made him cry out, "that's insane! What happens if they don't surrender? I won't be responsible for another Eradication Day!"

That tiny part of Legate's mind cursed his instinct.

He cast about for Vector. A single flicker of his aura and the Joiner would come running, even from his position circling the compound.

Maybe he should call in Lokin and Kaliyo. If they could make it in time.

At this point, he'd even settle for Ensign Temple as reinforcement.

"Legate, that's exactly what we want to prevent." Ardun Kothe's voice crackled over the holocom. Legate wished he could see the man's face. "If we have the Shadow Arsenal, we should only have to use it once to force the Empire into admitting defeat. If not… well, we'll have to fight."

"I can understand fighting," Legate said, trying to recover his blunder. "I'll kill whoever you need, get whatever information will end this war, but I can't – Kothe, promise me you won't use these unless you have to."

"I'm sorry, Legate," was Kothe's answer, and however sincere it may have sounded, the words came from the mouth of a monster. "If the Empire forces our hand, we may have no choice. This is war, and I intend to ensure the Republic wins."

The Jedi didn't know it, but he'd signed his own death warrant with those words. Legate promised himself, silently promised Kothe, that the Jedi and his entire team would die before the Arsenal was ever used.

In an instant, Kothe switched back to briefing mode. He dismissed Legate's concerns like the nattering of a naive child.

"The missiles are still inside the old manufacturing complex – two square kilometers of factories and tunnels."

"Sealed up but still intact," Hunter chimed in with that oddly masculine voice. It was much less unsettling when Hunter was far enough away not to see. "The scientists couldn't bear to destroy their work, so they built defenses fifty years ahead of Republic standard."

"We're going to secure the facility," Kothe told them. "I'll bring in the shuttle and locate the Shadow Arsenal."

"Saber," Hunter said, "take out the main batteries. Wheel, see what you can do with the main computer."

"Affirmative," Wheel responded.

"Legate," Hunter continued, "you'll penetrate the structure at these coordinates. Bypass the droids and lower the facility shields so our shuttle can land."

"Kothe," Legate said, "with my abilities, I'd be better suited to finding the Arsenal itself. The sightlines-"

"Denied, Legate," Kothe interrupted. "We don't have anyone else in position to take out the shields."

"Vector Hyllis is more than-"

"Let me, sir," Hunter interrupted. "Keyword: onomatophobia. You will lower the shields. And the Shadow Arsenal will be ours."

"What was that?" Saber's voice.

"Affirmative," was the only thing Legate could say. Internally, he cursed Hunter's paranoia.

"Hunter, you didn't have to-"

"Cut the chatter, Saber," Kothe snapped. "Hunter did what needed to be done. We'll apologize when the war's over. Now do your duty. For the Republic."

The commlink cut out.

Legate flickered his aura and waited.

It took less than a minute for Vector to show up, and Legate's mind raced through options each second. In truth, he had none. Every decision that might save the hundreds of millions of lives Kothe was threatening required Legate to act against his programming. As hard as the miralukan tried, he couldn't do that. The new serum hadn't run its course yet, though he was nearing the thirty-day maximum.

What was the point of riding the edge of his programming for so long if he couldn't fix things when they mattered?

When Vector arrived, Legate almost ordered him to go on alone in search of the Arsenal. Except he couldn't. Even if his programming didn't specify the Republic taking the missiles, it was obvious what would happen if Vector went in alone.

If Legate sent Vector away, Hunter would send Legate after Vector. The Joiner was an excellent fighter, he might be able to take Saber, Wheel, or even Hunter out of the story, but there was still Kothe… And, worse, Legate himself.

Legate didn't want to think about being forced to kill his…

Friend…

Instead, the two of them went in together, sneaking past cutting-edge droids as easily as walking down a hallway.

There was dead silence when Vector and Legate entered the control room. Two well-placed daggers and some quick, pheremone-enhanced attacks on Vector's part, and the room was clear of the defending droids.

Legate took a breath before keying his comm. His attention settled on the man he'd brought with him. If Vector saw Hunter give Legate his keyword, the Joiner would be killed. And Hunter would use the keyword. The wretch reveled in his power.

"Vector, I have this," Legate said softly. "Go get a good vantage point. Ensure no droids come near."

Vector hesitated. "Ag- Telkwa. Something is wrong, we can tell."

"Yes," Legate admitted. "But nothing you can help. Please. Leave while I do this."

Vector nodded. "We will come at your call, Telkwa."

Legate turned towards the computer terminal and pretended he didn't feel the stab of pain from those words.

Vector knew Legate couldn't be sneaked up on. He knew Legate sent him away every time the spy was about to receive orders. Vector knew sometimes, afterward, he saw Legate doing things his aura opposed. Vector just didn't know why.

Legate inspected the terminal. Instinctively, his mind traced the pathways of the wires, trying to categorize what each button, lever, and dial did. Such habits were necessary when most writing looked exactly like the rest of everything it was written on. Once, Legate had successfully rewired a control terminal to the point that one of his instructors simulated blowing himself up.

He was distracting himself, and his programming wouldn't allow that.

He pressed two buttons and turned a dial. That simple. The shields were open, Kothe's ship could enter the base, and Legate had just spent the future of the galaxy because he couldn't beat a few chemicals in his brain.

"This is Legate," he monotoned into his comms, "shields are down. The shuttle's clear to land."

"And Saber did her part," Kothe said. "We'll have the Shadow Arsenal on board and headed for Republic space within the hour."

And headed back for Imperial space the easy way within days.

"You're going to hold position here. Protect the controls until we're gone."

"With all due respect, sir," Legate protested, "my skills lend themselves to infiltration and espionage. It would be more efficient for me to sabotage the controls and join you."

"I'm not willing to take the chance," Kothe said. "Legate… this is goodbye for now. Go back to Imperial Intelligence, shore up your contacts. We'll be in touch in a few months."

After the war was over or had escalated to the point there'd be nothing Legate could do. Before he could say anything else, though, Kothe gave one last command.

"Hold position. Keyword: onomatophobia. And thank you."

Legate almost roared in rage as the commlink clicked off. He was out of time! Everything he'd done, all the time he'd spent searching for a way to undo his programming, all the work managing both sides of his life as a double agent, it was about to come to nothing, all because his mind was too weak!

There had to be a way. Some way to force it, no matter the repercussions.

"Vector!"

Legate couldn't say why he called for his friend instead of signaling him, but he did. And Vector came, as he always did.

"Are we moving out, agent?"

Legate shook his head and said, "I need you to protect me. If anything happens- just... Be ready for anything."

He wasn't able to explain anything, so he knelt, then sat, placing his rifle across his lap. It was comforting there. Then he reached up, drew back his hood, and unclasped his headgear.

"Telkwa," Vector said softly, but the spy - the miralukan - ignored him.

What he was about to do went against every bit of Imperial teaching he'd ever absorbed. Before today, he'd made the decision to work against the Empire, even decided to join the Republic, however briefly. But, in his heart, he'd still never stopped being Imperial.

Telkwa prayed to the Emperor this wasn't as stupid an idea as it felt like.

He breathed deep, and did as his father had taught him. Telkwa focused on what he could see, on the Force, on how it welled from the living and flowed through the world and bound everything together.

Then he drew himself inward, cutting himself off from everything.

There was no galaxy, no world, no room; there was only himself. There were no bonds, no Kaliyo or family or… or Vector… Only himself. There was no life, or death. Nothing to protect or fear. There was only himself.

There was no self. There was only the Force.

A being of the Force looked upon a shackled mind from both outside and within.

The body of Imperial Agent Telkwa Thema told Vector about the Shadow Arsenal. The being observing his mind noted the way the Force flowed. Then Telkwa tried to speak of his programming, and again the being observed. For precious minutes, Telkwa acted and attempted to act, and Telkwa's mind was observed. Both Telkwa and observer spent those minutes figuring out how to force the reprogramming, how the work the new serum had done might be enough.

Then...

"Vector," said Telkwa's body, "We are going to have to move fast. I ask you to trust me, because the galaxy depends on it, and because I will not have time to explain what is about to happen."

Then the being pushed. Pushed as hard as it possibly could, and the body followed its motions through the Force, thinking the words that needed to be said. The Force shifted, ever so slightly, and the body pushed more strongly. It only needed a little leeway, a slight adjustment, a fraction of freedom.

And then, it had it.

Telkwa's body spoke the words, "thesh protocol, phase one. New keyword: iconoclasm."

"Keyword accepted," responded the being, playing the part it needed to. "Thesh protocol engaged."

The being made two decisions, as quickly as any it had ever made.

Telkwa Thema needed a trump card.

"Designate limit break command, keyword: iconoclasm. Accept command from no outside source."

And he needed a check.

"Designate shutdown command, keyword: conciliation. Accept command… only from Vector Hyllis. Accept no further commands."

"Command interface closed," answered the being.

"Revert to phase zero."

The being and Telkwa's body merged once more, and Telkwa's consciousness expanded so quickly he almost lost consciousness.

A light pulled him out of near black-out, and he heard Vector's voice, concerned, asking, "Telkwa? You disappeared for a moment. Are you alright?"

Telkwa nodded, replaced his headgear and hood, and stood shakily.

"We have to move, Vector. Fast."

He ran, stumbling at first and then faster, as fast as he'd ever forced himself to run. Vector was right behind him, as Telkwa knew he would be. Stealth field generators went active as they hit the ground below their balcony, rolling with practiced ease to lessen the burden on the devices and their bodies. Then they were off, no slower for the necessity of stealth, past droids with weapons that could kill either of them with a single lucky shot, through a base that was more maze than bunker, and towards the Shadow Arsenal with only Telkwa's senses for guidance.

Telkwa could feel Vector's questions burning, but the Joiner spoke not a word, nor made a single sound, as the two wove their way across the base.

When they came upon Wheel and Saber defending the entrance to the Shadow Arsenal, Telkwa barely kept himself from whispering a quiet regret. Then he hacked several of the droids in the area and walked past with Vector. He didn't ignore Saber's screams when the droids finally surrounded the two Republic agents, but he hadn't had a choice.

This was about millions. Her life, and the life of her droid companion, were nothing.

Telkwa's aura wavered as they approached the Arsenal itself. A simple command to Vector: combat pheromones. Vector would be faster, stronger, more able to react to any combat situation. It even affected Telkwa, though Vector assured the spy he was nowhere near becoming a Joiner, nor at any risk.

Kothe shone just as brightly as Vector did, though he radiated his power where Telkwa's friend kept it all inside. For Kothe, it was the light of the power of the Force, concentrated in one being. It was the flowing Force in Kothe, not that created by life, as it was for Vector. That made one a conduit and the other a font. So simple, and yet Telkwa had never allowed himself to pay enough attention to make the distinction before.

"Just like Jaedus," Telkwa whispered as he deactivated his stealth generator and walked towards Kothe.

Locking mechanism disengaged, intoned a mechanical voice.

Kothe, standing just outside a room housing hundreds of missiles, almost smiled as the room's shields went down and its defense turrets deactivated.

At least Vector would know exactly what to hack this time. No need for a Watcher in his ear every step of the way.

Kothe didn't turn around as Telkwa approached. Like any Force-sensitive, he didn't need to. "Legate," he said with a little surprise, "I thought I felt you. You're supposed to be back at the shields- I see. You're free, aren't you?"

Telkwa nodded as Kothe turned around. Both men's hands rested on their weapons. Telkwa's on his rifle, Kothe's on a lightsaber hidden within his coat.

"It didn't have to come to this," Telkwa told him. "Even after the brainwashing, I was willing to give you a chance."

Kothe nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that. I suppose you understand. An Imperial Intelligence defector, just when I needed one. I couldn't risk it being a lie."

"You were supposed to be better than that," Telkwa spat. His hand clenched on his rifle, and he had to focus to keep his touch light and ready. "It doesn't matter. You're not the first Jedi I've seen go mad with power. Certainly not the first Force-user."

Kothe raised an eyebrow. "So," he said, drawing and igniting his lightsaber, "you knew."

Telkwa's left hand came up and tapped the side of his headgear. He gave a silent smirk, and then his face settled into a mask of disappointment. "It didn't matter to me," he admitted. "I've seen the colours of evil on both sides of this war. I just wanted to be on the side that would actually balk at genocide. I should have known. The Empire had its Eradication Day and Desolator, the Republic lost Hammer Station and let a mad Jedi take control of the most powerful factory in the galaxy. I thought it was just neglect."

He raised his blaster, and Kothe held his lightsaber firm. "I was wrong," Telkwa concluded. "None of you care about the lives lost, as long as they're enemy lives. Keyword: iconoclasm."

"Wha-"

Kothe was cut off as Telkwa weaved around his lightsaber at superhuman speed, slamming a powerful kick into the jedi's chest and sending him tumbling backwards into the Arsenal's armoury.

"Vector!" the spy yelled.

The shields on the room activated again, and Kothe slashed at the door in vain. As alarms sounded, the Arsenal's defensive turrets reactivated and took aim.

Kothe lowered his lightsaber. His entire being hardened with resolve. Perhaps a part of Telkwa respected that, even wished his own convictions were so strong.

But as the turrets fired and reduced the man's body to smouldering char, Telkwa couldn't help but be grateful such a monster wasn't still with the galaxy.

Now, there was a much shorter, simpler list of tasks left to him. At least for the immediate future. Destroy the Shadow Arsenal. Explain everything to Vector. Figure out how to get Lokin on-side without getting killed.

Answer his ringing holocomm, and tell Hunter exactly what he thought about onomatophobia.

That particular conversation did not go the way Telkwa expected.