YULAREN ON YOUR SIDE
"You and Skywalker are cut from the same cloth. And that little Padawan of his - she's been fashioned out of the discarded material!" - Yularen, Clone Wars: Gambit - Stealth
Let's travel back in time to visit with our favorite mustached Colonel - and apparent double agent.
Of all the Jedi, why did I have to end up with Skywalker?
Yularen has only said it aloud once, but during the Clone War the question bounced around his head at least twice a week. Skywalker was brilliant, but he was reckless, impulsive, and had no regard for protocols or procedures. And after Commander Tano showed up…
Well. Let's just say there was a reason Yularen drank.
After he resigned from the navy he promised himself that he was done with the likes of Skywalker, Tano, and Kenobi. That was why he chose to head up the ISB where he would be surrounded by individuals who knew rules did not exist to be broken. People like Alexsandr Kallus. He looked forward to his increasingly-sporadic meetings with his boy greatly.
Boy. Yularen chuckled to himself. Kallus would always be that in his mind, even if he was all grown up with a trainee of his own now. Surely he would have plenty of stories to tell this time.
But when he made his way into his office Kallus wasn't waiting for him in silence. Instead he was talking on his comlink. "What do you mean, you're not going? Of course you are."
Inaudible reply from the person on the other line and Kallus rolled his eyes. "That's preposterous."
He heard the other person out but when he replied his tone brooked no argument: "This is a major accomplishment. You will attend, you will walk across that stage, and you will be proud of yourself. Understood?"
Resigned, affirmative reply.
"Good. Col. Yularen is here; I'll talk to you later. Text me if you need anything." He hung up. "Thank you for your patience, Colonel. Apparently Officer Swain got it in her head that she didn't need to attend graduation since no one would be in the audience for her."
"I take it someone will?"
"As long as my vacation day is approved."
"That won't be a problem." Of course Kallus could have a day off to attend the ceremony. He would be an excellent example for the other training officers and his presence would obviously make Officer Swain's day. Who was he to stand in the way of such a thing?
He first realized that maybe there was more to this situation than met the eye when Kallus showed up early to the graduation ceremony with a flimsi-wrapped package in hand. Yularen watched as he took a program, carefully picked his seat, and grinned from ear to ear when Officer Swain officially became an agent in training. And he didn't miss the way Swain's face lit up when she spotted him in the crowd.
After the ceremony he found Kallus in the throng of people waiting to receive the graduates. "I see your vacation day was approved."
Kallus received him with a smile. "I'm glad I could make it. It was an excellent ceremony."
"It's easy to do when we have such a promising group of cadets. Your -."
"Kallus!" A voice shouted from behind them and they turned to see Swain weaving through the crowd. "I didn't think you were coming."
"Of course I came." He stepped to bridge the gap between Yularen and Swain. "Colonel Yularen, this is Officer Swain."
"Congratulations young lady." Yularen shook her hand. "Kallus has told me so much about you."
"She's going to be an incredible agent, I'm sure of it. She'll blow us all away." Kallus beamed with pride and before Swain could make any sort of reply, held out the package. "For you."
It wasn't unheard of for training officers to give their proteges small gifts for graduation - a package of sweets, a card with a credit stick, a bottle of liquor. But Yularen couldn't hide his surprise when Swain peeled back the flimsi and ended up with a book. Not a datapad copy or a holodisk but a real paperback novel. Yularen could count the times he'd seen one outside a library on his left hand. This certainly wasn't your typical token gift. Where had Kallus managed to find it?
And why a novel instead of a volume of history or military strategy? He remembered the title from Graf's required reading list in secondary school, about a young woman who returns to her hometown as an adult and - realization hit Yularen like a lightning bolt - the story focused on the relationship between a father and daughter.
And from the way Swain was looking at Kallus, the subtext wasn't lost on her. "This is too much. I -." Her eyes shone. "Thank you."
Kallus clapped her on the shoulder. "You only graduate once."
Yularen watched them. By all accounts he should be thinking oh no, or I've created my own worst nightmare, or flashing back to the million things Skywalker and Tano did that had him reaching for his decanter. But his only thought was by all the stars, he's done it. He's on the path to having a healthy family.
He had one of the venue staff take a holo of the three of them and framed it on his wall as a reminder of how far Kallus had come. He never imagined that only some months later he'd have to take it down.
Almost one full year after the graduation ceremony Yularen came across Hannah Swain's name again, only this time typed neatly on an interrogation report.
He'd put it off as long as he could but now there was really no excuse to wait any longer. He still remembered the first time he'd seen Kallus after the girl's arrest. He'd carried on with his usual routine but Yularen noticed the dark cloud hovering over him no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Of course he was upset — Yularen couldn't imagine having to arrest Graf or Kallus, never mind sign them over to Alecia kriffing Beck. He'd like to avoid the situation entirely, but Swain was being interrogated for information on the Mollymauk fencing circuit. If she revealed something that led to his involvement with Dalla Blackwell, however minimal, it wouldn't end well for Mrs. Yularen or Graf.
With a sigh he opened the report. Kallus doesn't need to know any of this.
The first few pages were all routine: Prisoner #1, Hannah Swain, arrested for treason, prepared for interrogation by ISB-021. Prisoner #2, Brent Cogon, also prepared and present in interrogation room.
He scrolled further. Agent Beck had followed protocol to the letter: first a mind probe, then various instruments of pain, but Swain was proving a tough nut to crack. ISB was sure she was the mastermind behind the defection, Cogon merely supplying weapons and the shuttle they stole. She must have been the one who made the deal with Mollymauk and arranged to trade the datapad for their safe passage.
She wasn't talking, and Beck was getting frustrated. But the more he read, the more Yularen wondered if the reason Swain wasn't talking was because she didn't know the answers.
She actually had given up some information after Beck - Yularen looked to the ceiling - mutilated Cogon's leg. It was minor, things they already knew from her datapad, but none of it pertained to Mollymauk so Beck wasn't satisfied. If anything it had made her even more determined. She was resorting to even more brutal and sadistic tactics and very recently, she'd requisitioned a medical droid. Why in the galaxy did she need a medical droid?
Yularen had to read the following section twice to make sure he had it right.
He'd read his fair share of interrogation reports and participated in plenty of his own, but this … this was beyond the pale.
Yularen locked the screen, unable to read any further. He'd written interrogation protocols to quickly extract information that would preserve order, not to have atrocities inflicted on prisoners for no reason.
He held his people to the highest standard - they were better than the Partisans massacring injured troopers, better than Torrance torturing for fun. And yet it had happened right under his nose, spelled out plain as day in an official report and not to just anyone, but to Kallus' daughter.
If Kallus found out, it would destroy him. He had half a mind to delete the report right there. Hells, he almost wanted to -.
His gaze hardened to steel as a little voice said in the back of his mind: Kriff it.
Before he could talk himself out of it Yularen activated his secure comlink and called his least favorite yet most reliable criminal informant.
"Iziz Museum of Art, you've reached Dalla."
"This is Colonel Yularen," he held his breath and when Dalla didn't hang up, pressed on. "I need information that doesn't have to be current or legitimate, but relates in some way to the field work of Commander Alecia Beck."
Instantly Dalla was in fence mode. "Those files are classified. I've no way of knowing which field agents are assigned to a specific case."
"I don't have time for games, Dalla," he whispered. "There are lives at stake — innocent lives, who I know you tried to save in the past and who are suffering because ISB is obsessed with finding you."
Silence on the line. Surely Dalla remembered the defectors. If they'd learned one thing in the many years of their odd relationship it was that the other never forgot anything.
"Say there was evidence Commander Beck missed a lead. Is that something you might be interested in?"
This was it. This was why he assisted Dalla in her mammoth crimes: when you needed her to come through, she always came through. "Very much so."
"Something might show up in a few hours. Good day, Colonel." She hung up without ceremony.
He sighed and leaned back in his seat.
Hold on, Officer Swain. Help is on the way.
...
When one had spent the last thirty-odd years cultivating a reputation as a man slow to anger, showing up to Interrogation with steam all but rolling out of one's ears tended to scare the living daylights out of the support staff. The officers manning the front desk barely managed to fire off a salute from shaking.
He didn't let them recover from their shock: "Give me Commander Beck immediately."
The officers looked first to one another, then to him. "She's interrogating the traitors, sir. She never has a comm unit on her when she's -."
"Must I do everything myself?! Which room is she in?"
The first officer managed to stammer out a room number while the second just pointed. Without wasting another instant Yularen turned on his heel and made his way down the appropriate corridor.
As he got closer he could hear Beck's voice with increasing clarity: "This can end, Swain. All you have to do is tell me how you contacted the fence."
"Get kriffed!" Swain shot back, voice filled with pain and tears.
Unsurprisingly that didn't sit well with Beck. "I would be more than happy to take this to your eye instead. Or maybe I'll have your precious Agent Kallus do it for me."
Oh, hells no. Yularen quickened his pace. By the time he reached the door he already had his code cylinder out, datapad raised and only had to open the door.
ISB Commander Alecia Beck had a fistful of Swain's hair in one hand and a laser cutter in the other, in the process of dragging her off the table to get a better angle. The munitions officer watched in equal parts horror and rage from his restraints, obviously struggling to keep quiet for his partner's benefit.
"Would you care to explain this, Commander Beck?"
At the sound of his voice Beck's head swiveled in Yularen's direction and her single eye went wide.
"Colonel Yularen," she released Swain and holstered the laser cutter. "Forgive the mess. I wasn't aware you were coming."
Swain dropped like a sack of duracrete and let out a squeak not unlike an anooba's toy when her stomach hit the floor. At the sound Yularen allowed himself a glance in her direction and knew they were in trouble. With glassy eyes and beads of sweat big as teardrops dotting her forehead, it was immediately obvious this young woman was very, very sick.
Good stars, please don't let me be too late.
"I didn't plan to," he said icily and held up the datapad. "However I couldn't let this wait. Does the name Ematt mean anything to you?"
Beck was starting to get the idea she was in trouble. "The leader of the Shrikes, according to my investigation. They've seemed to go dormant after presumably finding a new base location."
"Yes, and did you happen to notice how Ematt is receiving large sums of aid from the Onderon Con Men?"
"Excuse me?" Beck left the prisoners where they were and hurried to his side. "There was no evidence of a —."
"Does this look like no evidence?!" He demanded and forced the pad into her hands.
Beck scrolled through the report, concern deepening with every second. Yularen internally smiled. What he wouldn't give for Dalla's husband Bernard to teach a forgery class at ISB.
"This...wasn't here before."
"Really, it wasn't?"
Beck struggled to wrap her head around the sudden appearance of a massive lead.
"Protocol for such an incident is to review your other reports for similar errors." He said crisply and stepped to the side. As Beck walked by he looked over his shoulder into the cell.
Swain had lifted her face from the floor and was locked into Yularen. Even in her feverish state she clearly remembered him.
Yularen looked her dead in the eye and nodded. Don't throw away your shot.
The rather Kallus-like smirk she returned made him sure she had no intention of doing so. And then he walked away, not bothering to lock the door behind him.
He never expected to see or hear from her again, but six weeks later he received a report from one of his other agents. The elusive Mollymauk had a new lieutenant, codenamed Selkie. Whoever they were, they were well-versed in Imperial protocol and hell-bent on causing headaches for the Empire.
It gave him the distinct feeling he was going to be hearing an awful lot from Selkie.
Yularen reached for his handy-dandy bottle of aspirin, swallowed two dry, and for the first time in his career cracked open the bourbon Mrs. Yularen got him for his birthday and poured one out before noon.
The things he did for his boy.