Chapter 19: Chapter 18: Morality key

Obi-Wan holds his lightsaber, which serves as an illumination in the darkness. It is its sole use under the conditions. Some red line indicates a direction through this maze. The young man is not comfortable. His terror is becoming difficult to control. A Jedi should not let his fear get the better of him, but this one is unnatural. The teenager coughs. Cortosis dust seeps into his lungs. His throat hurts as if he had swallowed fire.

The padawan moves forward cautiously, only to be startled as he passes through a doorway: a hundred desiccated corpses are scattered in every direction! The line says to go that way. Damn! The teenager walks through the bodies. They are from the crew. Their uniforms are barely recognizable. The wounds are distinctive. It's not blaster damage, more like a vibroblade.

All droids were destroyed without trouble, in hand-to-hand combat. Only an exceptional warrior could wreak such havoc and escape unscathed. In close contact? No, in truth even a genius fighter would not stand a chance. Some Force user? Probably. The young man hits an object with his foot, which slips. He lowers his saber to light up and notices precisely a vibroblade. Its gold hilt is beautiful. At the moment the padawan grabs it, he feels a rush of rage engulfing him. This thing exudes Force! Its last owner was connected to the cosmic stream.

With the push of a button, the vibration kicks in. This kind of tool cuts through plasteel effortlessly. The blade is covered in runes, which react to the teenager's hand by glowing with a ghostly gleam. A Force-reactive metal? Bandhal, perhaps. The young man thought back to an old lesson. There was an organization whose soldiers often used this type of device: Siths. That doesn't... their army disappeared after the war, right? Obi-Wan decides to put the device on his belt. Circumstances leave him no choice. He knows that he is unarmed.

« This way! »

That bloody voice again! The padawan replies, frightened:

« What do you want? »

« This way! »

Obi-Wan should ignore this call, but his feet start moving of their own accord. The teenager would like to stop. His body refuses. Here he is, walking in the direction he wanted to avoid at all costs. The whispering comes from an opposite way to the one proposed by the red line. Over there, walls are covered in slashes. An army of droids lies in pieces. The ground track implies a single warrior, walking around with a hundred bladed weapons floating at his back. A strange manner to use the Force.

The young man soon reaches an obstacle: the corridor has collapsed. It has been sealed with explosives. He'll have to go around it through a medical bay. He approaches the door and pushes, it slides open with a creak. Beds are intact. So are many of the medical droids, their power supplies long dead. A droid battery usually lasts two centuries. Could this ship have crashed hundreds of years ago? The equipment in this room looks experimental. On his journey, Obi-Wan notices robotic endoskeletons designed to optimize a biological organism. Making a full cyborg out of living being is forbidden by the Bag'nun Accord. Since when does the Federation have this kind of hardware?

Operating tables are covered with exotic components: eyes, reflex enhancers, and so on. Every object has been designed with the sole purpose of assembling a machine that can rivals the performance of a Force user. These mechanical monstrosities are potentially knight hunters! Does the Senate know about this? Who gave an authorization for that? A cryogenic capsule embedded in the wall contains the decaying corpse of a reptilian humanoid. The padawan walks away without trying to find out more.

The teenager accesses the Care Center, a less unusual facility, to find that an office is lit. He goes in. The computer seems unharmed. He tries to turn it on. The unit powers up and displays an old Trade Federation logo. They haven't used it in ages. Obi-Wan tries to enter a command. The interface reacts and allows him to access what's left in the log: two messages. He starts by opening the older one:

« We received our assignment this morning. When I read my orders, I couldn't believe it: that was decided by the Senate! We are to eliminate an individual hiding on a disputed space world, Tatooine. The Jedi Order is probably aware of this since Knight-Master Sifo-Dyas is serving as a witness. I don't know why the Federation chose to send the Gomolef. Why us and not them? Why this very ship? »

Sifo-Dyas... wasn't he a distant predecessor of Dooku? How odd. The Order's council would be more appropriate than a spy in an official matter. We're talking about the Senate, after all. The brass ordered this ship to eliminate someone, but for what reason? Such affair concerns the Jedis, not a transport corporation! The young man consults the next mail:

« I'm injured. Badly. This will be my last report, Lord Adima. The Gomolef is crashing. This vessel could rival forty Jedis. Ten years of hard work burned to the ground! Our captain wants to deactivate the morality protocol. I didn't know we had a key on board. Those bastards sent us to the slaughter! »

That's the whole message. Obi-Wan doesn't know what to think about it. He gets up and walks out. The door opens to a passageway, which leads to the maneuvering bridge. About forty military droids are spread out. They defended this passage until the very end. Their security turrets did not have time to exit. The attacker most likely massacred the crew in less than two minutes. No one in the galaxy would have the ability to ravage a ship this big without a mastery of the Force. To do it at such speed, with so much Cortosis, would equal Mace Windu's skill!

Every meter gave him an abominable feeling: impossible to resist the urge to move forward. The cosmic stream is so thick that anyone could feel its presence. A terrifying pressure. The padawan has the sensation of being crushed. His eyes are disturbed by illusions. Visions caused by this overwhelming power, as if past and future were being torn apart in this hallway. The teenager feels nauseous. The universe cracks in his head. The world disappears.

« Congratulations, Lord Vader! You have proven your loyalty. »

Here he is, facing the Temple of Coruscant. By what miracle? The building is on fire! An army of soldiers in white are shooting in all directions. They are backed up by a few warriors in black with red swords. Hell, the guards of the place are killing each other rather than defending the Order! They look enraged. Novices lie on the ground. A banner collapses. Yoda emerges from behind a pillar. His eyes glitter with an impossible emotion: hate. The Knight-Master waves his arms: soldiers are covered with blue flames, the few survivors end up crushed in their armors. An absurd, blind anger.

Obi-Wan refuses to witness the outcome of this infernal vision. The padawan manages to come back to reality, overwhelmed by an incredible pain. The Force exults in violence but he feels able to push it away, staggering to the bridge. A voice rings out: « This way! »

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This bridge has been meticulously destroyed, the main console however is intact. A metal rod stands in the middle. A bright red halo emanates from it. It is this thing that draws him in: « Turn the key! » Obi-Wan can't help but raise an arm, against his own will. He lays his fingers on it. The young man knows he must resist and holds his muscles, without success: his hand turns the object. All pressure dies down, as if a cosmic hurricane had just calmed itself. The screens light up anew. Some kind of dull humming rises from the controls. A speaker responds:

« Mainframe rebooting. »

The central monitor displays a yellow eye. A female intonation erupts:

« The morality protocol has just been deactivated! Republican laws no longer apply for this operation. »

Obi-Wan types on a dusty keyboard: « Information: explain 'Operation'? »

« The purpose of this ship is to terminate Darth Pl4g>3\5. Error. »

A Darth? The padawan remembers that « Darth » is some kind of rank, an equivalent to the Knight-Master for the Sith Order.

« Warning! Ship integrity compromised at 8?.0?%. Error. Invalid date. Error. Invalid position. Error. Register subroutine... Reg... ist... er... Situation analysis. Error. »

The young man prefers not to let this machine continue: he turns the key... but nothing happens. The calculator continues to flicker. He pulls it out and tries to push it in again, with no effect.

« Option A, mission setting active. Resume operations. Option B, mission setting inactive. Standby until recovery. »

Everything starts up with a squeak. The whole vessel comes back on! Bridge lights, corridor lights, everything!

« Three Force users detected! Conclusion? Mission in progress. Selection? Option A. Reactor restarting. Systems inventory. Nuclear weaponry, 7% operational. Quantum weaponry, 19% operational. 837 warheads registered and functional. 4121 droids identified and linked to the network. Error! Mainframe corrupted at 99.3%. Error. Error. Error. Warning! Intruders on board. 'Active Fever' process? Inoperative. Alternate procedure? Manual purification of all vermin. »

The ship shakes. A mechanical howl emerges from the medical bay. Cybernetic bodies rip from the walls to start moving.

« Environmental scan: satisfactory. Deploying collectors to accumulate materials and mass produce droids. Warning! Hutt presence in orbit. Possible alliance between Hutts and the target? Probability 888.88%. Error. Errr... ooooorr... existential threat to the Galactic Republic! Calculating an answer. Hostile terraformation plan? Error. Calc... morality objection? Morality protocol deactivated. Command confirmed! Civilian populations now set as 'expendable'. »

An alarm goes off. Obi-Wan has just enough time to throw himself to the ground before automatic blaster turrets shoot at him. The young man has no choice but to crawl behind a door. Several robotic arms come out of the vents and try to grab him. There is no way out of here! An announcement can be heard, spoken cheerfully by a protocol droid over a republican anthem background:

« A hostile terraformation plan has just been authorized. Combat personnel are to report to their stations! May the Force be with us. Glory to the Republic! »

The teenager hears laughter in his skull. A sarcastic chuckle that turns into a voice, the same one that called him earlier:

« Have fun, Jedi! »

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