“Before she abandoned us, we learned that the ship’s full potential can only be unlocked by those with a powerful connection to the Force,” the Jedi added. “But it also requires special cybernetic implants to interface with the control systems. It is this union of ship and Sith that makes the Spear such a formidable weapon.
“I believe Malgus convinced my Padawan to submit to the surgery for the cybernetic implants so she could take command of the vessel. That was likely the final temptation that lured her over to the dark side.”
The Kel Dor’s insistence on finding some identifiable reason for Karrid’s betrayal didn’t sit well with Theron.
“You’re not going on this mission to try to redeem your former Padawan, are you?” he asked. “I know you Jedi believe nobody is beyond redemption, but bringing down the Spear is going to be hard enough already.”
“My actions unleashed Darth Karrid on the galaxy,” Gnost-Dural explained. “It is my responsibility to stop her. That is my only concern.”
Theron nodded. Taking care of unfinished business was something he could understand.
“In any event, Kana changed her name to Darth Karrid, and I haven’t had any contact with her since,” Gnost-Dural concluded. “Everything I know about her now comes to me from other sources, like SIS.”
“We’ve just learned that Darth Karrid has recently been given a seat on the Dark Council,” the Director chimed in.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Jace insisted. “It just means taking Karrid and the Spear down will have an even greater impact on the Empire. That’s why Operation End Game is so important.
“After reviewing all the scenarios analytics offered, we realize we can’t stop the Spear unless we first get a saboteur on board,” the Supreme Commander told Gnost-Dural. “The plan is to have Theron stow away on the ship while it’s docked at an Imperial spaceport for crew leave.”
“The Spear never stays in port for long,” Theron added. “Getting a saboteur on board requires preparation and planning. We’d have to know which spaceport Karrid was heading for so we could get there first to set everything up.”
“We do have a mole inside Imperial fleet communications,” the Director said. “And she can divert copies of any messages being transmitted to or from the Ascendant Spear to us. But those messages are coded.”
“Then it won’t do us any good,” Theron noted. “Unless we have a black cipher.”
“Hasn’t acquiring a black cipher been a Republic priority for months?” Gnost-Dural asked, impressing Theron with his knowledge of something that didn’t fall under the Order’s typical purview.
“The Empire has taken every precaution to keep that from happening,” Jace replied. “On two occasions we even salvaged a damaged cipher from the wreckage of an Imperial capital ship in the hope of repairing or reverse-engineering it.
“Unfortunately, the ciphers are designed with a self-destruct function. When a capital ship goes down, the ciphers automatically burn out their decryption cores. Without a functional core, the cipher is just a worthless metal box.”
“So how do you propose we acquire one?” asked Theron.
“The Imperial Minister of Logistics uses one to communicate with capital ships across the galaxy,” the Director explained. “It’s in his office at the Orbital Defense Command Center on Ziost.”
“So we need to break into one of the most heavily guarded buildings on one of the Empire’s most critical and well-defended worlds and steal the cipher without setting off the self-destruct sequence?” the Jedi asked, making sure he was clear on the plan.
“It’s more complicated than that,” Theron said. “If a working cipher goes missing, the Empire will just reprogram all their codes.”
Theron knew it wasn’t as simple as he was making it sound. The black ciphers had been designed to prevent anyone from tampering with them; they couldn’t be reprogrammed in the field. Changing the encryption codes would require the Empire to recall their capital ships so technicians could synchronize the changes on each vessel. It would be costly and time consuming, but it was still a better option than letting the enemy listen in on their classified transmissions.
“But the Empire won’t go to the trouble and expense of changing the codes if they don’t think the cipher is missing,” the Director explained. “We need to break into the minister’s office and swap the working cipher’s core with one of the burned-out cores from the damaged ciphers we recovered. Make them think the one in the minister’s office was somehow damaged, causing it to set off the self-destruct sequence.”
“Won’t they be suspicious if the cipher is mysteriously damaged?” the Jedi asked.
“Not if they think it was damaged in a terrorist attack,” Theron chimed in. “Plenty of Imperial installations on other worlds have been targeted in the past. We switch the cores, then detonate some explosives inside the building. Make it look like local anti-Imperial separatists set off a blast that triggered the cipher’s self-destruct sequence.”
“Could be heavy civilian casualties if we aren’t careful,” the Jedi noted.
“We’ll do everything we can to minimize collateral damage,” Jace promised.
“We’ll need the architectural blueprints for the Orbital Defense Command Center,” Gnost-Dural added. “Along with a list of all their security protocols. Does SIS have a contact on Ziost we can use?”
“We haven’t been able to make any inroads into Ziost yet,” the Director admitted.
“I know someone who can help,” Theron said. “A freelancer I worked with before.” The hard part is going to be convincing her to work with me again.
“Even if Theron’s friend helps us out,” the Director cautioned, “we’re still working on a good cover story to get onto Ziost without drawing attention.”
“I can take care of that,” Gnost-Dural offered.
Theron raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“SIS aren’t the only ones who need to infiltrate Imperial worlds,” the Kel Dor explained.
“Then it’s settled,” Theron said. “So when do we leave?”
He knew they could keep going over the mission backward and forward, hashing out every last detail, but he didn’t see the point. Part of what made him a good agent was the ability to think on his feet. Any specifics they came up with now would be pure speculation. It was inevitable things would change during the actual mission, and overplanning would only make it harder to adapt and improvise.
“Give me time to get our cover story in place,” Gnost-Dural said. “We can meet at my private hangar in two days. I’ll send you the location.”
“I’m glad you’re both eager to start,” Jace said. “But let’s not rush into anything.”
“You wanted Theron on this op,” Marcus said, coming to his agent’s defense. “I’ve learned that when he’s ready to go, the best thing is to just get out of his way.”
“I can do that,” Jace vowed. “Gentlemen, Operation End Game has officially begun. May luck—and the Force—be with you.”
Realizing they had been dismissed, Theron, the Director, and Gnost-Dural filed out of the Supreme Commander’s office and into the reception area outside.
“You two go on ahead,” the Director told them, casting a quick glance over at the receptionist as the office door closed behind them. “I need to speak with this young lady about some paperwork. Coordinating SIS resources with the military … gotta make everything official.”
Theron suspected that whatever the Director wanted to talk about was decidedly unofficial, but he had enough tact not to say anything as he and Gnost-Dural continued out into the hall alone.
“I’m looking forward to working with you,” the Jedi said once they reached a branch in the hall where they would part ways. “And I can assure you that my feelings for my former Padawan won’t interfere with our mission.”
“That’s good to know,” Theron said, thinking, If it comes down to it, will you be able to kill her? Or will you hesitate?
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“I’ll see you in two days,” Gnost-Dural said, then turned and headed off in the other direction.
As he watched him go, the personal holocomm on Theron’s belt started to beep. Curious, he answered the call. To his surprise the Supreme Commander’s face materialized before him.
“Theron, I’d like to speak to you again before the mission. Alone. At my private residence.”
“Of course, sir,” Theron said, too taken aback to think of anything else.
“Good. I’ll send you the address. Be there tomorrow night.”
The call ended before Theron could ask any questions, leaving him wondering what the Supreme Commander of the Republic could possibly want to discuss.
CHAPTER 13
JACE MALCOM SHIFTED HIS POSITION, unable to get comfortable on the couch in the living room of his modestly furnished apartment as he waited for Theron to arrive. The Supreme Commander wasn’t normally so restless. During his military career he’d spent many hours just sitting and waiting; a soldier’s life was long stretches of boredom broken up by brief interludes of intense action. He’d learned long ago how to stay calm and relaxed as the minutes ticked by. But this situation was unlike anything he’d ever dealt with before.
When the buzzer at his door rang, he actually sprang to his feet and paused a moment to collect himself before opening the door.
“Thanks for coming, Theron,” he said to the young man on the other side.
“I’m not going to miss a meeting with the Supreme Commander,” Theron replied.
“This wasn’t an order,” Jace assured him. “Just a request.”
“Coming from someone in your position, they’re basically the same thing.”
Jace nodded. He had been an officer in command of others for many years, but his recent promotion to Supreme Commander had taken things to a level he still wasn’t quite used to.
“Come in and sit down,” he said. “Please,” he added, hoping to make it seem like an invitation.
Theron settled into one of the two chairs across from the couch. Jace couldn’t help but notice his choice of seat—facing the door, and the farthest position away from where anyone else could sit.
“Nice place you have here, Commander. Kind of expected the walls to be covered with all your medals and commendations.”
“They clashed with the drapes,” Jace explained. “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got a nice Alderaanian vintage if you like wine. Or Corellian Reserve if you prefer brandy.”
“No thanks, sir.”
“How about some Mandalorian kri’gee?”
“Always wanted to try the hard stuff,” Theron said. “Sure, I’ll take a glass.”
Jace made his way over to the liquor cabinet in the corner and poured them both a shot, then brought it over to his guest before taking a seat on the couch facing him. In the light of the apartment he could see that Theron favored his mother’s side; he could make out a few faint hints of Satele Shan in the younger man’s features, though if he didn’t know who his mother was it wouldn’t have been noticeable.
“To the Republic?” Theron asked, holding up his glass.
“The Republic,” Jace agreed, and they both downed their drinks in a single gulp.
Theron coughed and sputtered for a few seconds—a common reaction in those tasting kri’gee for the first time.
“Want another?” Jace asked. “It’ll grow on you.”
“I’m good,” Theron gasped, his face still red from choking on the first glass.
They set their empty glasses on the coffee table between them, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Jace knew Theron was waiting for him to speak, but he honestly didn’t know where to begin.
“I served with your mother,” he finally said. “On Alderaan. She was a remarkable woman.”
He could see a change come over Theron’s face—he was suddenly guarded and wary.
“I figured you knew,” he said. “Is that why you picked me for this mission?”
“I’ve seen your service record, Theron. You’ve earned this.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I wondered if there was some of your mother in you,” Jace admitted.
“I don’t mean to be rude, Commander, but if you brought me here to ask about Satele you’re out of luck. I barely know her.”
There was a shortness to Theron’s reply. It wasn’t exactly anger or bitterness; more like exasperation. As if he’d had or imagined this conversation so many times before that he was simply tired of it.
“So you’ve never reached out to her? Or she to you?”
Theron shrugged. “Never saw any reason. When I was born, she gave me up to dedicate herself to the Republic. I understand why she did it, and I respect her choice. I chose to serve the Republic, too. That’s why I joined SIS. Making her part of my life now would just complicate things for both of us; make both of our jobs harder. I don’t see the point.”
“You seem pretty sure of this,” Jace noted.
“Ngani Zho helped me understand why Satele did what she did. I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve moved on.”
“But what about your father? Didn’t you ever want to ask Satele about him?”
“Master Zho was my father. He raised me. Made me who I am.”
The conversation wasn’t going as well as Jace had hoped. He was dancing around the real issue, and he realized he was actually afraid. He’d faced death too many times to count, but here he was, too scared to tell Theron why he was really here. Taking a deep breath, the Supreme Commander decided it was time to charge into the breach.
“Theron, I didn’t know Satele had a son. I only found out a few days ago when I saw your name in the report and I asked the Director if you were related.”
“Kind of wish he’d lied to you,” Theron grumbled. “Could have avoided this whole awkward chat.”
Jace ignored him and pressed on, determined to get the truth out there.
“He gave me your personnel file. I checked when you were born, confirming what I already suspected. Theron—I believe that I am your father.”
There was a long silence before Theron finally spoke.
“I already told you,” he said coldly. “Master Zho was my father.”
“Theron—you have to believe that I had no idea. When Satele broke off our relationship, I thought it was because of the Jedi Order’s ban against emotional attachments. I didn’t realize she was pregnant.”
Theron stood up suddenly.
“Commander, I’m sorry she lied to you. But this is between you and her. You need to talk to Satele.”
“That’s the last thing I need right now,” Jace replied. “She lied to me. Hid you from me. I’m so mad I wouldn’t even know what to say to her.”
“But she’d know what to say to you,” Theron said sympathetically. “The Jedi always have an explanation.”
“Exactly. I’m in no mood to hear her prattle on about peace and controlling your emotions. That’s why I came to you.”
“I still don’t know what you want from me,” Theron said, shaking his head. “Why tell me this?”
“Why?” Jace rose to his feet. “You’re my son. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“No!” Theron snapped, taking a step back. “We’re just strangers who happen to share a biological connection.”
“That’s my point,” Jace insisted, resisting the urge to take a step forward. “We don’t have to be strangers.”
“I don’t need someone to take me fishing or teach me how to ride a hoverbike.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jace said, shaking his head in frustration. “I just want to get to know you better. Maybe we have more in common than you think.”
Theron sighed and brought a hand up to rub his temples.
“Your timing on this is really terrible, Commander,” he said.
“I could have handled this better,” Jace admitted. “I just thought you had a right to know. I’m s
till trying to figure this all out.”
“Fair enough,” Theron said, his tone softening. “I’ve been dealing with Satele’s decision my whole life, but you just found out. I guess it’s going to take you some time to get a handle on it.”
Jace stayed silent, sensing that Theron was heading somewhere.
“I have a lot of respect and admiration for you and what you do,” Theron told him. “And maybe we do have a lot in common. We’ve both dedicated our lives to helping the Republic. Maybe when I get back from Ziost, we can try to get to know each other better.”
“Don’t worry,” Jace assured him. “We can take it slow.”
“If we were taking it slow you wouldn’t have dropped this bomb on our first visit.”
“Sorry about that,” Jace said. “I thought you deserved to know before the mission … just in case.”
The professional soldier in him realized how poorly he had handled the whole situation, though there wasn’t much he could do about it now.
“You and Master Gnost-Dural are scheduled to leave tomorrow. Do you need me to postpone the mission for a few days while you process this?”
“Give me a little credit, Commander,” Theron replied. “I’m more worried about you. Knowing I’m your son might affect your judgment on Operation End Game.”
“You don’t get to be Supreme Commander unless you can put personal feelings aside for the greater good of the Republic,” Jace replied.
“Glad to hear it.”
There was another long, uncomfortable silence before Theron finally said, “I should go. I still have some things to get ready before I leave.”
“Right. Of course.”
Jace escorted Theron to the door. Just before he left, the young man turned to him.
“We can talk again when I get back.”
“Looking forward to it,” Jace answered with a smile.
The door slid closed and Jace slowly made his way back over to collapse onto the couch. His heart was pounding and his body felt simultaneously wired and exhausted—the same reaction he had at the end of an intense battle. He closed his eyes to take a short nap and slipped immediately off to sleep—a useful skill most soldiers quickly learned.