WAYFARING STRANGER

I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world below
There is no sickness, no toil, no danger
In that bright land to which I go

Yularen silently counted to ten before he addressed the woman sitting across his desk. "Agent Divo, I realize that you've had an extraordinary week, but this is wildly out of character for you."

"Sir, I stand by my actions." Andressa looked dead ahead, not flustered in the least at being called into his office. "Agent Beck's comments were disgusting and unbefitting of the uniform."

"Which merits a lecture, not a knock-down-drag-out fistfight in the middle of the cafeteria." He couldn't believe it when the officer ran up to him and reported that two agents were brawling in the cafeteria. He'd been even more shocked when he arrived on the scene and learned that levelheaded Andressa Divo had started the fight.

Then he saw who the other party was, and realized what happened.

"I understand that you were in the caf line when you heard Agent Beck speaking with Agent Kallus."

"I know I should have ignored it," Andressa admitted. "But sir, Morgan has been in her crypt for less than twenty-four hours and that … woman was slandering her."

Yularen sighed, summoning the patience he usually used to deal with Dalla, and switched tracks. "What exactly did she say?"

Andressa's lip wobbled and she gripped the arms of her chair in a monumental effort to keep it together. "'They can't take pressure,'" she repeated. "'Once you start to lean on them, they squeal like pigs. They're agents of the Empire, not children crying for their mommies.'"

Yularen had read Andressa's report and yep, he could see how this ended in a fistfight. He could also, detestably, picture Beck mocking a fallen officer for kicks. But he didn't think that was her motive this time. "And who was she saying it to?"

"She was at a table with Collerand and Kallus, but she barely knows Collerand's trainee and Kallus –." she stopped abruptly.

Yularen nodded. "I suppose she's taking out her frustrations on former officer Swain as we speak."

"She's still in interrogation?" Andressa repeated in disbelief. "My gods, it's been almost two months!"

"It's proven to be an extended affair."

"What could she possibly know that she hasn't already spilled? No one can keep silent for two months of Beck; hardened soldiers barely made it two days!" She looked like she was going to hunt Beck down and start another fistfight. "She's keeping a punching bag."

"I've considered the possibility." However sickening, that Beck was torturing his granddaughter for fun. "However, while Swain's named a handler and a rebel cell, she's failed to mention Mollymauk."

"Have you considered that she didn't meet the bird after all?" Andressa said icily.

"Divo, I suggest you control your tongue."

She backed down and Yularen thanked his lucky stars. He could only cut her so much slack before he was forced to do something he wouldn't like.

"Due to the extenuating circumstances surrounding the fight, I see no need for disciplinary action. Instead I'm placing you on an additional week's bereavement leave." Which made two weeks total, the amount allotted for the loss of a child. They should have given it to her from the very beginning. "And Agent Divo, as a parent myself, I am truly sorry."

"Thank you, sir." She choked up and Yularen's heart broke. "She was very special."

Yularen didn't know Morgan, but she'd been on the shortlist of candidates for Kallus' trainee. He had ultimately decided that the boisterous, extroverted Morgan would be a better fit with Divo, while the more reserved Swain suited Kallus. When the assignments came to fruition, he knew he'd made the right choice.

"I know I shouldn't have gotten so attached," Andressa continued. "I've no right to be this upset. I should have drawn a line and reminded myself that no matter how wonderful they were or how much of myself I poured into them, that they weren't mine to love."

"That's utter rot. Who told you that?"

She startled and Yularen realized he'd switched to his parent voice. "I … nobody, sir."

"Andressa Divo, you are the finest training officer in this bureau because of your love." He insisted. "It's what makes you great. Your trainees show empathy in their work, they take necessary risks, they don't fret about ego, and that is because of what you showed them. Anyone can train a teenager for a job, but to take an unformed mind and nurture it into a well-rounded person is something else entirely. You raised them, which makes them your children. Your love is your power, and even though it hurts like hells it is worth everything. Don't throw it away."

He knew it had gotten through when he saw the look in her eyes.

"Go home," He said. "Mourn your daughter, and if you ever need to talk I'm here."

She nodded and rose from the chair to collect her things. "Colonel, if I may. I'm sorry for your loss as well."

The words hit him like a lightning bolt and by the time he came back to his senses, Divo was gone.

Yularen rubbed his temples before he had to take another aspirin. He'd intended to help Divo through her grief, and instead she'd held up a mirror to his own failings.

Failings he couldn't dwell on. Yularen grabbed his keys. Maybe working would get his mind off things.

…

Working didn't help. Yularen was exhausted, and most of his thoughts began with the word "Kriff."

Kriff this, when he went into work every day.

Kriff off, when Major Gideon walked toward him with that stupid smirk.

And, whenever he looked at his comlink, kriff me.

To say his home life was hell would be an insult to hell. Last he checked, hell didn't have children on opposite sides of the war, each major players, each vying for his attention, and each a heartbeat away from scratching each other's eyes out. It had been that way for years, but the conflict had never come so close to home before. Not until Swain defected and Kallus dragged her back into the jaws of the Empire.

How he'd done it, Yularen didn't know. He'd long considered the possibility of being ordered to arrest Dalla, and every scenario ended with him coming to a screeching halt at the first sight of her and screaming at her to run as fast as you can. But gods, to arrest your daughter, to put binders on her wrists and give her over to Interrogation was unthinkable. It was eating Kallus alive, and though he was externalizing his grief onto the rebels it was only a matter of time before it turned inward and he broke.

And the icing on the osik cake: every day at work he had to live with the knowledge that Alecia Beck was ripping his granddaughter apart mere levels below. Hell couldn't compare.

Yularen rubbed his eyes. He wasn't sleeping, and his restlessness was disturbing Estelle too. He needed to get control of himself if only for her sake, so he'd left the ISB behind and went to the Senate building for the day. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, part of his job was rooting out corruption in the Senate for space's sake. But he needed some distance.

It was easier during the war. You knew who the enemy was; all you had to do was point and shoot. Easier yet if you were a clone and you were bred for that sort of thing and it was all you ever knew.

Just as he completed the thought, the clones' favorite senator came down the hallway.

Riyo Chuchi was a "lifer" as politicians went, holding the same office for years without a thought of advancement. She could have become the Chairwoman of Pantora six times over but she remained in the Senate, unflaggingly campaigning for Pantora and for clones' rights.

Some people suggested that Chuchi stayed on Coruscant in order to be closer to the remaining clones who she still fought for. Her detractors whispered that she might have a more personal interest on the planet. Yularen had privately wondered if Riyo might be up to something else, but he wasn't about to stick his nose into that.

"Senator Chuchi," he greeted her as she drew near. "That was an eventful session."

"That it was, Colonel." Brutal would be more accurate. Riyo's latest bill had been shot down by an overwhelming majority, and it was a political deathblow for clone rights.

"At least the session is drawing to a close."

"It is." She chuckled. "Time to prepare for the next one."

"You're returning? After the events of this session, a great many senators would consider moving on."

"Not me. I enjoy working in the Senate, making the galaxy a better place."

"Even after defeat?" He should have let it go, but his lips moved anyway. "You haven't passed a bill in years; they eviscerate you day in and day out on the floor, and I can't think of one thing that's gone your way in recent memory. How do you go on?"

Riyo blinked and Yularen could tell she was thinking long and hard about her response. As well she should, especially to an ISB colonel who had let his distress color his tone.

"I believe that we're all capable of making a difference," she said. "It may not be easy, but anyone can, in their own small way, turn on a small light in a dark room."

Yularen's mind went to the darkest room in the bowels of the ISB, the one he was running away from.

"To answer your question, Colonel, I go on because I have to. I couldn't live with myself if I just stood by."

"These are dark times," he whispered.

"Indeed." Riyo was all too eager to end the conversation. "It was good to see you, but I have much to do before the session closes."

They went their separate ways, Riyo to her office and Yularen back to the ISB, while what she'd said echoed in his head.

Anyone can turn on a small light in a dark room.

He knew what he needed to do, no matter how much it terrified him. If he tried to sit the fence any longer, he would tear himself apart. It was time to choose sides once and for all.

And there was only one course of action he could take and live with himself. One dark room he could light up.

The interrogation rooms were dark indeed.

…

Making up his mind was only the first step. Before he could actually do anything, he needed to make sure his nearest and dearest were prepared for the potential fallout.

"Estelle, I'm going to get our grandchild."

"It's about time," Estelle said and kept putting her hair in curlers. "Do you need anything?"

"I need you to be ready to run at a moments' notice."

"The go bag is packed," she said, confirming once again that Yularen had hit the marriage jackpot. "Do Graf and Dalla know about this?"

"They're about to."

Graf was the wrinkle in this elaborate tapestry. Yularen's youngest son had never shown interest in getting involved in either side of the war; he had only ever wanted to help people and Yularen loved him for it. He'd celebrated Graf's graduation from the police academy and supported him as best he could. But there was the rub: how did you tell your police officer son you were about to commit a major crime without ending up in the back of a squad car?

In the end he pulled Graf aside after they had their usual Taungsday dinner. "My office?"

"Sure." He followed. "Did you dig up more holos of you and Mom?"

"Not quite." Yularen shut the door behind them.

Graf raised an eyebrow. "Dad?"

"Graf," he said. "You know I love you."

"What's happened?" Graf was in motion in a second. "Are you okay? Is it Mom?"

"We're both fine," Yularen assured him. "It's work. You know I try not to bring it home, but I'm afraid that's not possible anymore."

He gestured for Graf to take a seat and followed suit himself, even though his heart was about to launch out of his chest.

"What I'm about to ask is too much, but I have no choice. Very soon, something is going to happen at the ISB and I may be found responsible."

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you. But if it happens, I need you to take your mother and leave the planet."

"How do you know it's going to happen if it hasn't yet?"

"You know why."

Graf took a deep breath. "It's Swain, isn't it?"

There was no denying it. Yularen watched and waited while Graf took in the information. "It has to be. The only reason you would step out of line is for this family, and that's killing us. Alex drank an entire bottle of whiskey, Mom cries whenever she looks at Life Day pictures, and you're just … it's like you're being crushed under a boulder."

How astute; that was exactly how he felt. "I understand this is a shock –."

"Are you going to kill her, or are you going to get her out?"

Yularen was taken aback.

"Dad."

"I'm getting her out."

Graf opened his jacket and shuffled through something in the inside pocket. "Then you're going to need these."

He handed Yularen two identity cards, one for a young man and the second for a woman. And going by the weight and the holograms — "These are real."

"They're gold to people who need them," Graf said. "Each stolen card is a life saved."

The world blurred and Yularen wiped his eyes. "You're working for the resistance?"

"You didn't hear me say it, but they might have need of an ID or two."

"Son…" He clutched the cards and tried to steady his quivering lip. "I've never been so proud."

Yularen stood from his desk and hugged Graf for all he was worth.

"Keep the cards," he said. "The resistance needs them."

"How are you going to get the kids offworld without IDs?"

A smile spread across Yularen's face as he said what he thought he would never get to say. "Graf, you have a sister."

…

And then there was Dalla.

This was the most precarious link in the chain, because he needed Dalla's help but couldn't risk reading her into the situation. She couldn't miss a beat if this went sour, and the best way to ensure that would be to keep her in the dark.

"How are you doing?" He asked over the comm. It had been his opening line since the defection failed, and every time Dalla's news grew grimmer.

"Not great," she admitted. "Work is piling up and the handlers are spooked. Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing concerning you."

"I should ask you how you're doing. You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I haven't." Here went nothing. "Young lady, I know you're under a tremendous weight but I need your help."

"What is it?"

"Information regarding the casework of Agent Alecia Beck. It doesn't have to be current or legitimate, but it needs to be something that would necessitate an agent being pulled into an urgent meeting."

He watched Dalla chew on the information, turning it over in her mind to determine the most effective course of action. "Could you work with missed evidence? Something connected to a large-scale investigation?"

"I can. I assume this will be delivered the usual way?"

"It will." She cocked her head, looking so much like her brother it knocked the wind out of him. "Can I ask what this is about?"

"I am about to do something incredibly stupid."

That didn't cover half of it. If he survived this, he couldn't lecture Dalla for reckless decisions ever again.

…

The next morning, Yularen put on a freshly pressed uniform and polished his boots until they shone. He skipped breakfast, picked up a caf only so he wouldn't look suspicious, and went to the office.

There he spent two hours doing flimsiwork until he opened Dalla's anonymous file and scanned the contents. It would do. Now it was showtime.

"Kriffing haran!"

His aide in the reception area yelped and something clattered to the ground. Perfect. Yularen grabbed his datapad and stalked out of his office.

"Where is Agent Beck?" He demanded.

The aide scuttled behind his computer and made a few frantic entries. "She checked into the interrogation rooms this morning, sir. I could page her if you –."

Yularen didn't let him finish. He continued his rage walk through the corridors, glaring at anyone who met his gaze like looks could kill.

The interrogation assistants got the same treatment. They almost jumped out of their skins when they saw him coming. "Sir!"

"Get me Agent Beck immediately," he ordered through gritted teeth.

The first assistant shrank under his gaze. "She's interrogating the traitors, sir. She doesn't keep her comm on her ever since the girl tried to pickpocket her."

Swain, you beautiful menace, I couldn't have done it better myself. "Must I do everything myself? Where is she?"

The second assistant babbled out a room number and the first just pointed. Yularen didn't care. He set off toward the room in question with steam rolling out of his ears.

He didn't need the room number the closer he got. He could hear Beck through the door. "This can end, Swain. All you have to do is tell me how you contacted the fence."

"Kriff you!" That was Swain, and Yularen could hear her agony.

The outburst was followed by the sound of sizzling flesh and Beck retorted "I would be more than happy to take this to your eye instead. Or would you rather I take out his eye?"

Osik, Cogon! Yularen had completely forgotten about Swain's boyfriend, but if they were together in the interrogation room then he was part of the plan.

Beck was moving on. "I could also have Agent Kallus come and do it."

Oh, hells no. Yularen doubled his pace. This was ending now.

He threw open the door and bellowed "Would you care to explain this, Agent Beck?"

Beck had Swain by the hair, clearly in the process of dragging her off the interrogation table to do gods-know-what. Cogon was cuffed to a second table across the room, biting his lip bloody in an attempt to keep silent.

At the sound of his demands, Beck turned around and her single eye widened.

"Colonel," she said and dropped Swain. "Forgive the mess; I wasn't aware you were coming. How may I help you?"

He looked at the "mess." Swain had rolled onto her side and was just starting to pick herself up from the floor. She looked even worse than he'd expected; she must have lost twenty pounds that she didn't have to begin with, the bruises littering her skin made her almost impossible to identify, and her pupils were blown and glassy.

What had Beck given her? Would she be able to move in her state? Stars, had he come too late?

Yularen set his jaw and carried on with the plan. "I wasn't planning to pay you a visit, however, this couldn't wait. Is this your report on the money laundering case on Ord Mantell?"

Beck examined the datapad. "Yes, sir. It was a standalone operation, no evidence of rebel ties, so the situation was left in the hands of local law enforcement."

"No evidence of rebel involvement? Then tell me, Agent Beck, why do the serial numbers on the credits seized match those of credits stolen from Aldhani?"

"Excuse me?" Beck raced to his side and scrolled through the document, her jaw slackening with every second. "Colonel, I … I don't understand how I missed this. I'll contact local law enforcement immediately and have a team process the credits."

"Too little, too late. The credits are gone; used in a narcotic sting as flash money. As for the suspects, they disappeared while out on bail." He let a fraction of his fury read in his eyes and Beck swallowed hard. "Possible leads to the rebels' treasury, disappeared into thin air. Please, explain."

Beck didn't answer. She just stammered wordlessly, her eyes fixed on the report.

"Protocol for such a situation is to review your other work for similar errors. Shall we?"

"Yes, sir!" Beck didn't hesitate. She was so focused on the listed serial numbers that she didn't seem to care that Swain was unrestrained on the floor. She didn't even spare them a glance, just walked out of the interrogation room completely engrossed in her "error." Perfect.

Yularen looked over his shoulder. Swain was a little more focused and watching him intently, her lips parted in disbelief and hope.

He locked eyes with her and nodded.

Swain's mouth twisted into an exact copy of her father's smirk and that was all Yularen needed. He flashed a ghost of a smile and swept out of the door. Without locking it.

Beck was pacing in the hallway, still scrolling on his datapad. "I don't understand. I ran the serial numbers, perhaps it was a keying error?"

He had to get her out of here. "Quite a generous assumption. Do you have your original notes?"

"I … yes sir."

"Then I suggest you retrieve them." He stalked away. "I expect you in my office in fifteen minutes."

He waited for her footsteps to fade away, then hurried back to the interrogation room. The door was shut, but a fresh drop of blood on the floor told him there was nothing behind it.

Yularen followed the blood trail down the corridor leading to the hangar bay, and it wasn't long before he heard whispers.

"The cams are off," Swain whispered. She and Cogon were clutching each other like lifelines, their weight propped on the other.

"Why are they off?" Cogon glanced at the cams like they would turn into blasters at any moment.

Yularen spoke: "Because I turned them off."

The couple's heads whipped around and to their credit, didn't scream. Good, because he didn't have time or margin or error for that. He burst forward, grabbed Cogon in one arm and Swain in the other, and hauled them down the corridor with strength he didn't know he possessed.

"There's a shuttle in the hangar. Take it, jump to a random system, and wait for help. Defections will come."

"I don't understand," Swain coughed. "Why are you helping us?"

Because he was her grandfather and he was finally acting like it? There was no time to explain. Instead he waited until they got to the hangar door, smoothed her hair off her forehead, and planted a kiss. Hopefully that got the message across.

"Ride the wind," he said. "I'll keep Beck busy as long as I can."

He made sure they were steady on their feet, then carefully let go. They hobbled toward the ship in the deserted hangar and he didn't release his breath until they were on the boarding ramp.

They were going to make it. He had to have faith, if only to keep from blowing his own cover.

Yularen about faced and went back to his office. This was going to take no small amount of self-control, though he would enjoy dressing down Beck until someone noticed that Swain and Cogon were gone. She would race off to do damage control, lock down the spaceports, and send out an all-points bulletin to every agent's comlink, and while she was doing that Yularen would call Dalla. Because if anyone could finish what he started, his daughter could.

He looked down at his shaking hands and willed them to still. Why was he so jumpy? He'd stared down fleets, Anakin Skywalker, and Emperor Palpatine himself with nary a twitch, but this had him out of sorts?

Because he'd committed. Yularen grit his teeth and summoned the turbolift to his office. He wasn't waffling or sitting the fence, he'd officially chosen sides. He could only hope he'd chosen the right one.