The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret, Izery!

[Isayev Kuryakin]

Isayev Kuryakin did not dread meeting his superiors; he merely wondered what would await him when he did. He was rarely summoned unless there was something he could be disciplined for, as most communications happened through a comm. unit or worded messages. The summons from Avery Marin, Grand Marshal of the Confederation, caused him to search through his recent operations to pinpoint a spot where he may have disturbed an army operation. Nothing came to mind.

There was little else that would give a Grand Marshal a reason to summon an Intelligence Officer, who was usually handled by the Intelligence Field Marshal. Isayev had once been in the man’s chain of command, but that had been before the appointment to Grand Marshal. Isayev’s work in the special forces commando unit had not left room for gallivanting around with other soldiers. He hadn’t thought he’d be known to the man, unless he was a fan of blastsword duelling.

Suffice to say, Isayev did not find himself in the part of the military base that served as the brass’ offices often. He had little reason to, Intelligence having its own offices separate. He’d been in a few offices, once or twice, planting surveillance devices, but he had not been involved in any move to put surveillance on Grand Marshal Marin, being occupied with those damned Mandalorians.

Nonetheless, in his surety that he hadn’t done anything untoward to gain the attention of a Grand Marshal, he stepped neatly along the corridors towards the office of Avery Marin. He knew of the Marin’s, by reputation rather than in person. Another powerful Dolomarian family far flung from the shattered remains of the Kuryakin’s. They had a history of staying on top, Isayev was torn between hating them for it and begrudgingly admiring them.

Hopefully the man would be a blastsword fan, Isayev did not know if he could tolerate more jibes aimed at his lineage and family name.

Arriving at the door, he pressed the chime, announcing his arrival to the Grand Admiral. Soon after, the door slid aside, revealing an office tastefully furnished, a blend of modern Dolomarian styles, accented with the antique styles that many Dolomarian families favoured. Isayev’s keen eyes took in the office quickly, measuring the man by his office furniture. The colours remained black and white, how typical. Holos of children and family, more privileged Marin’s, were tastefully scattered around the room. Behind the foreboding desk and chair hung a viewscreen displaying a map of the galaxy and a rapidly updating feed of galactic news and tactical information.

Isayev came to a stop a metre or so in front of the desk, stood at attention and delivered a crisp textbook salute. His drill sergeant would have shed a tear. He had made sure that he appeared impeccable, uniform in top condition and peaked cap positioned correctly. This Grand Marshal would not find a fault in this Kuryakin.

“High Colonel Isayev Kuryakin, reporting as ordered, sir.”

[Avery Marin]

Important things were happening, but almost no one knew it.

Deciding who to trust with the information his cousin had provided him had turned out to be a little more difficult than he’d like. It wasn’t that he wanted to protect the Order, but just how to go about destroying it was trickier than he’d perhaps previously anticipated. He knew that any action taken against them would have to be done very carefully, lest it backfire. The masses were stupid, and when the masses heard “Jedi” they tended to think “Good.”

He needed to change that.

And so that was his current primary goal. After making sure they had a solid ground to stand against the Order, then he would pursue open aggressions. In the meantime, he’d kept their new alliance with the rebels mostly to himself, only telling a select few. Most notably he’d contacted a handful of his more trusted ‘friends’ in the Intelligence division. So it was, the vast majority of the very small ‘in-the-know’ group about this information were , appropriately, in Intel. A few had already been put to work in helping him set up some tighter security in his home, but now the most important and truest task was at hand.

Isayev Kuryakin. When he’d asked among some of the higher-ups in Intel who he could trust to have the Confederation’s interest at heart at any cost, he’d been a bit surprised at the name he’d been given. Kuryakin was a former House of Dolomar, and one that had been shattered some time ago. However, he did not judge the man by that completely—some of that House were just as loyal as any Marin, but it had been a house divided, and a house divided was destined to crumble. Upon hearing the details of the man’s career he’d made the easy assumption that this Kuryakin was the right man for the job.

And here he was. The door chimed and Avery turned his chair from where he’d been watching his information feed on the back wall. Depressing the door switch, he let the man enter without a word. He was expected and they both knew it.

“High Colonel Isayev Kuryakin, reporting as ordered, sir.”

Excellent. There wasn’t a bit out of place on the man; he’d come prepared and likely determined to prove himself. Doubtless he had no idea what this was about. That would change shortly.

He nodded, casual in his approach to the current meeting in stark contrast to the High Colonel. “High Colonel, have a seat, if you would.” He indicated the seat nearby the desk. Soon he progressed the conversation, however, getting straight to the point to put the man at ease. “I’ve asked you here for a very specific purpose, Colonel. You see, we have a Jedi problem.”

And oh, what a problem it was. The emotional wounding that Shay had given him still burned as he had not yet given himself the chance to speak to her parents. He owed them that, though, and he would be doing it shortly enough. First, though, he had to start his information gathering or potentially sabotage himself.

[Isayev Kuryakin]

“High Colonel, have a seat, if you would.”

The Grand Marshal was visibly taking the whole meeting far less formally than Isayev was, but he had the grace of being of a far higher rank above most, equal to only a handful of people. The offer of a seat was, most certainly, a move to offer an illusion of… not quite equality, but a more relaxed atmosphere than a soldier standing at attention before an officer. The sign that soon, Avery Marin would take Isayev Kuryakin into his confidence and would, most likely, tell Isayev to be hush-hush about whatever was going to happen.

Isayev knew the process well enough.

With nary a hesitation, Isayev settled into the seat, but maintained his stiff-backed attitude, keeping his neck straight and his gaze squarely on the Grand Marshal. He noted, absently, that the seats were comfortable, befitting a man of Marin’s status, but not as cozy as the massive chair the man sat in himself. All a part of those subtle signs an officer gave his subordinates. Isayev was familiar with Avery’s get, he could be counted among them, after all.

“You see, we have a Jedi problem.”

Marin did not mince words, something Isayev was currently thankful for, as he was not sure he could suffer through more exposition at the hands of commanding officers. Considering how much the officers liked hearing their own voices, it wasn’t a surprise most efficient operatives were considered borderline insane or mentally imbalanced. Although one would have to travel far to come across a member of the galactic populace that didn’t in one way or another fall into that same category.

The contents of his admittedly short sentence describing the apparent problem was more of a confusing point. What, exactly, did the Grand Marshal mean? A Jedi problem? They were minor nuisances at best, held low in regard by most of the galaxy thanks to inaction and lack of a good PR department. They were religious fanatics, nothing more, nothing less. Religious fanatics with mystical powers at their fingertips, so they were not to be completely scoffed at. Politically they had no power, which was what mattered in the long run. Whatever sway they held over the galaxy showed itself mostly in their reputation for being stupidly gullible and naïve, although usually successful in applying their dogmas thanks to aggressive negotiations.

He could only surmise that the current problem arose from a blend between political and overt action against the Confederation. Nothing the Jedi did ever was wholly free of political influence. Perhaps the noble combatants had finally picked a side in the conflict, and not the correct one. That particular theory was supported by the fact that Marin had called in an Intelligence Operative, who dealt in damage control quite often.

This would be interesting. Or completely bothersome, depending on what exactly Isayev was tasked to do.

Out loud, Isayev simply said, “Sir?” All the while keeping his tone free of emotional inflections beyond the indication that it was a query and he was awaiting elaboration.

[Avery Marin]

While Isayev took a well-postured seat in his chair, Avery kept himself leaning back slightly, one arm on the right armrest as he watched the man. The Colonel took a moment to process what he’d been told. Avery didn’t mind nor did he blame the man. It was actually a lot to take in, even when stated so vaguely. “Jedi” hadn’t come up on Confederate radars as a problem in a good long while. Heaven knew Avery hadn’t reacted well to the news, himself. To him it had felt some horrible joke, given the source it had come to him directly from.

But it was only the briefest of pauses before the Intel operative was inquiring, ”Sir?” by way of asking for clarification.

Avery had expected this sort of response and was ready for it. Abandoning his casual pose, he instead learned forward now, his arms resting on the desk in front of him as he put his weight into his elbows.

“Three nights ago,” he began his story, “I had a visitor in my home. A cousin of mine, in fact, who was given to the Order as a child. At first I did entertain some hope that she might be coming to offer her support, but it seems her Order sought a different path, and she was more inclined to betray her lineage than defy them.” It was clearly a sore spot for the man, but he did better than he had that night in hiding it. “She instead came to give me the message personally from the Jedi Council.”

Given the intelligence of the man sitting across from him, he imagined he knew what was coming. But the details were important for what he was going to ask the man to do, so he forged onwards without leaving it merely implied. “They wanted us to know that they’re officially in support of the Alliance of Free Planets.” A soft huff of annoyance burst from the Grand Marshal then, and he sat back in his chair again. He was restless ever since that night and now was no different. He wanted to get this solved, or at least closer to being solved.

“I attempted to reason with my cousin and at least attain her cooperation, but she was stalwart. Upon her removal from my home, I contacted some of your superiors. You are among the very few to know of this High Colonel, and I expect it stay that way until we know what we’re dealing with. Which brings me to why you’re here… I need you to do some work for me. You come highly recommended as a loyal son of Dolomar, and I trust you won’t prove to me otherwise?”

Yes, he was looking for cooperation even before the man knew the details of his assignment. He knew he would get it or Isayev could be considered a liability. And Avery only knew of one good way to deal with liabilities.

[Isayev Kuryakin]

The Grand Marshal abandoned his comfortable lounge, leaning forward out of the seat and putting his weight on his elbows resting on the desktop. The classic pose of a man gearing up to tell a tale that would, so to speak, be just between two individuals. The moment the man had mentioned ‘Jedi’ and ‘problem’ in the same sentence, Isayev knew that anything said in this room would be confidential. Marin would not find any issue with Isayev’s ability to keep secrets.

“… her lineage than defy them.”

Isayev quelled the smug feeling at the news of a Marin openly defying the family, long removed or not. It was mere instinct for one such as him to dislike the current ruling Houses of Dolomar, and revel is any smear on their records. The Kuryakin’s had suffered plenty at the hands of the privileged, despite their sacrifices in the war. The outdated and positively archaic mentality of the Houses was a point of extreme vexation for Isayev.

Despite his feelings on the Houses and the news of a black sheep in House Marin, his face remained as impassive as ever. He did take extra care in noting the chagrin showing in the Grand Marshal’s body language as he told his tale of woe. It would not do to make matters worse.

“… personally from the Jedi Council.”

It was easy to extrapolate from there what Marin was saying, confirming his earlier theory. The Jedi had picked their side and it had not been anything the Confederation would be happy about. While not quite anything Isayev felt any particular despair over, it was still an even that would need some extensive damage control. The Jedi were not highly regarded, but their habit of picking the winning side had ingrained an attitude towards them among the general populace, at least among those who happened to know their history. It was possible to put their choice in a negative light, but it would take effort.

“… Alliance of Free Planets.”

At the confirmation, Isayev inclined his head slightly, a subtle movement as he mentally checked off his mental list of theories as they were confirmed. His stance loosened, and he settled his elbow on the armrest, cradling his chin in his palm, idly rubbing the end of the scar that marred his face. Quiet and pensive. The Jedi claimed to be the protectors of the galaxy, yet they chose the underdog with the least support on a galactic scale. Should they not side with the people? Right now the people were very firmly enjoying citizenship in the Confederation.

“… I trust you won’t prove to me otherwise?”

“I fight for the good of Dolomar and the Confederation, Grand Marshal,” Isayev supplied, voice quiet, and yet firm, but still lacking in any overt inflection. “I will do nothing less than my best in all operations to further our cause.” Even if it meant leading a smear campaign against the boy scouts of the galaxy.

He straightened in his seat, eyes fixed on the Grand Marshal. “I trust my word will be enough for you, Sir.” And there, his eyes flashed, first overt show of emotion, an unvoiced challenge. Isayev had proven his loyalty a thousand fold, risked his life and others, killed for the cause. He’d moulded himself into a weapon to be put at the Confederation’s disposal, from childhood. To have this privileged desk jockey bring that into question… it rankled.

[Avery Marin]

As the bad news was confirmed, Isayev’s stance relaxed into one more pensive and Avery found this a good sign. It meant the man was listening and absorbing and not simply letting the words get filed somewhere away in his brain for later study. Sure, there was going to be nothing to do for it this instant but now was the time to start thinking about this, not later. They didn’t have time to waste.

“I fight for the good of Dolomar and the Confederation, Grand. I will do nothing less than my best in all operations to further our cause.”

Obviously that was what Avery was expecting to hear. To say anything else right now would have been career suicide, if not actual suicide, and it was plainly obvious. The Grand Marshal might have been all smiles and small talk when the situation permitted, but he did have a reputation as trouble. While very little had ever been concretely confirmed, there were always those rumors about how people who crossed him or were in his way had a tendency to… well, die. He did nothing to quell this gossip, especially since no one dared say it to his face.

So did the man mean it? He wondered, but only briefly.

“I trust my word will be enough for you, Sir.”

The flash of eyes told him everything he needed to know. This was a sore spot for the Kuryakin. He wanted to be taken seriously and as a viable factor in this fight against those who would sew discord in the galaxy. To have his honor questioned, even in the most general way, it got his hackles raised in an instant.

Avery smiled, amused, but not in a mocking way. No, he found this operative to be quite refreshing and he knew he’d chosen the right man. “It will be just enough, Colonel,” he assured Isayev. There would be no trouble found here. And with that, he was able to proceed.

“You will be working alone. I have forwarded you a list of those in your chain of command that are aware of the situation. No one else to catch wind of this, and while it may make your job harder to go it alone, I trust you’ll be able to manage. Your mandate is also a broad one, so I trust you can be creative in your search. I need to know anything and everything you can find me about the current state of the Jedi. I need to know where they are, what individuals have been in contact with known Alliance operatives, what they may have done to endanger the people of the Confederation. Anything and everything, Colonel, that can be used against them in warfare and the media. We need to get the word out to the general public before they decide to beat us to it, but not just any message will do.”

A pause, another smile. “Any thoughts?”

[Isayev Kuryakin]

“It will be just enough, Colonel,”

Isayev gave a curt nod, the only confirmation he needed to give, before he settled back into his impassive mood, taking in all the information and offering nothing else in return. Marin had accepted his word as enough proof of his loyalty and thus that lay behind them. That matter did not need to have more words added to it, Isayev had gotten across what he wanted to and Marin had not quite accepted, but recognized, the Intelligence officers distinguished duty.

“… just any message will do.”

Working alone was something Isayev was used to, and even preferred from time to time. While the monumental task of digging up any sort of dirt on the Jedi would be difficult and akin to patching an atmospheric breach on a ship missing a big chunk out of the cockpit, borderline futile, the mere fact that they’d sided with a well-known rebellion and terrorist group had already provided them with some ammunition.

He was also aware of the Jedi leaving their Coruscant temple behind, which had been a concern of the Confederation when they had discovered it shortly after. Many had wondered why, but the real reason did not become apparent until now. Clearly their support of the Alliance stretched back further than they realised, if they’d deemed it necessary to withdraw their presence from the throne world. That was a worrying sliver of information. How long had the Jedi pretended to be neutral while they worked with the Alliance? That was another element the Confederation could fashion into their advantage.

“Any thoughts?”

“They abandoned the Coruscant Temple over a year ago,” he began, pulling out his datapad and inputting a few quick commands. “Intelligence could not find a viable reason for their withdrawal from Triple Zero, but I suspect we’ve found it. They must’ve been preparing for an extended amount of time and have been working with, or in close contact with, the Alliance ever since, if not before that.”

Nimble fingers input another string of commands, bringing up various newsreels and economic reports, Isayev flicking through them. To learn about the Jedi, they would first have to estimate the position of the mass of their force. “Around the same time they left Coruscant, shipping to Ossus dropped, indicating a decreased demand for goods.” He angled the datapad towards the viewscreen behind Avery, gesturing towards it as the display abruptly changed from the galactic map and tactical feeds to a graph of shipments coming to and from Ossus in the span of five years, the past year showing a far more sudden drop than the normal fluctuations one could expect to see. “I suspect if we were to send someone to investigate we would find Ossus with either a minimal force of Jedi or abandoned entirely.”

He left the display up for long enough for Marin to get the general idea, before withdrawing from the hacked display and returning it to its original state, the galactic map blinking back into view with the live feed of tactical information. He input more commands into the datapad, calling up the Intelligence Divisions files on the comings and goings of persons of note. “The Jedi have also been visibly less active around the galaxy, according to reports. Considering the signs, the gradual withdrawal from their main bases and decreased activity, I can only surmise that they have essentially gone into hiding and that our investigation will have, at this time, been too late to reveal anything pertinent.”

He tapped a few more commands, frowning visibly. “If you would permit, Sir, my suggestion would be to make the information public as soon as possible with the data we already have and inform operatives and magistrates alike to keep an eye out for robed figures carrying those iconic glowing swords of theirs.”

They would also have to take into account what the Jedi would do as well, it was fairly easy to surmise, considering their reputation for being honest. “We can assume that the Jedi will go public with their official opinion on this rebellion as soon as they have informed us of it. For the sake of preventing Jedi propaganda to have any overt effect on the populace, it would be better if we were to reveal their treachery before the Jedi make any statement. We should not give them the chance to spin it in a positive light.”

[Avery Marin]

“They abandoned the Coruscant Temple over a year ago. […] They must’ve been preparing for an extended amount of time and have been working with, or in close contact with, the Alliance ever since, if not before that.”

The implications were bothersome, but Avery could see no flaws in the train of thought and gave a nod of approval. It seemed they had found the reason for the withdrawal, indeed. He steepled his fingers and watched as the Intelligence agent flipped through what information he had on hand, always fascinated by the way Intel worked. There were times he thought he could have been happy as an agent, himself, if not for his drive towars what he perceived as a higher calling. He was patient as the man worked, knowing these things couldn’t be instantaneous, and waited to hear the damage.

“Around the same time they left Coruscant, shipping to Ossus dropped, […] I suspect if we were to send someone to investigate we would find Ossus with either a minimal force of Jedi or abandoned entirely.”

A gesture had him turning to look at the hacked display, taking in the information in a general light as he realized the man was, once again, right. It was further troubling and he continued to feel as if he’d personally been lied to. Sure, it was all a matter of omission, but he wished Shay could have felt inclined to… well, have anything to do with him, really. But this wasn’t about him and her, not right now, and he had to focus on that. The Jedi had dropped off the map and he turned back to his desk to make a quick note about sending a recon group out to either confirm or deny the status of Ossus, though he suspected Kuryakin was right.

A little more time, but Avery knew it was time well spent. Already the High Colonel was proving infinitely useful and on top of the game.

“The Jedi have also been visibly less active […] been too late to reveal anything pertinent.”

This news was what he’d begun to expect, but still it was bad and he cursed softly under his breath. The Order really had played them all for fools, hadn’t they? And to think his own cousin had been a part of this subterfuge. The Jedi would regret sneaking off under the assumption they could get out of the consequences. It might not be easy, but they would be found. “Look into it anyways,” he ordered, though it was likely Kuryakin was going to anyways. “Even if there’s nothing to be found, I want to know for certain.”

“If you would permit, Sir, my suggestion would be to make the information public as soon as possible with the data we already have and inform operatives and magistrates alike to keep an eye out for robed figures carrying those iconic glowing swords of theirs.”

It was a bold suggestion in the face of the fact that Avery had already warned the man that he wanted to be as careful as possible. But perhaps it was that gumption that made the Grand Marshal stop and truly listen to the thought. They did already have enough to start building at least the structure of the case against the Order, it seemed….

“We can assume that the Jedi will go public with their official opinion on this rebellion as soon as they have informed us of it. […] We should not give them the chance to spin it in a positive light.”

“You’re right,” he admitted, already thinking over how they might best put it. “Implicate them as supporters of the Alliance over a period of time where they weren’t being honest with the public. Perhaps suggest they were involved in recent terrorist activity. Imply that their dishonesty is a sign of their guilt in the face of law. Any thoughts on how we might put some fear into it? We don’t want anyone thinking that harboring Jedi will get them anything but killed, by the Jedi themselves.” There were dozens of other thoughts that could have been voiced. But if there was one thing he wanted to do it was to make sure that if Shay ever did need to turn away from the war, the only safe place for her would be here.

[Isayev Kuryakin]

“Even if there’s nothing to be found, I want to know for certain.”

“Of course, Sir,” Isayev complied, making a note on his datapad and inputting a few quick commands to have the subrutines dig up whatever obvious information they could on the Jedi’s movements. Isayev had of course intended to still investigate the matter, but Avery did acquire himself a measure of respect from the Intelligence Operative by having the smarts to recognise how any investigation, tardy or not, could still be useful, if not terribly so. Too few did not recognise the importance of good intelligence and thorough investigation. Isayev’s division had unearthed many a traitor by meticulous investigation.

“You’re right,”

Avery Marin was already proving to be far more competent than many others. While Isayev had never had such a direct encounter with any in the command council before, Intelligence were a tight knit group and they exchanged information freely. Most operatives that had encountered a commanding officer outside of the Intel Division had remarked on their inability to gracefully accept that they could possibly have been wrong. They did, of course, do the smarter thing, but never once implying that their suggestion had been any less a viable course of action.

“… by the Jedi themselves.”

Using the datapad before him, Isayev wrote down all the little details Marin mentioned, adding a few suggestions of his own as he worked down the list. He was not certain if he could produce a proper worded bulletin of the news, as his area was largely wetworks and infiltration, not propaganda. “Would you object if I handed this to the boys in the propaganda department, Sir?” Marin had said that he wanted it to remain between the two of them, and the few of Isayev’s superiors who knew, but since they were releasing a holonet bulletin to inform every major news agency in the galaxy, it would be best to put the best on the job. Making Jedi look bad took skill, skill Isayev lacked unless he had access to their living quarters, security feeds, and a few people willing to lie.

“The final result would, of course, be sent to you for quality assurance.”

[Avery Marin]

“Would you object if I handed this to the boys in the propaganda department, Sir? The final result would, of course, be sent to you for quality assurance.”

This was going a lot faster that the Grand Marshal had previously entertained, but he was having a difficult time seeing how the High Colonel might be wrong. While both methods—taking it slow and going in hard and fast— were different, they had the same goal in mind—putting the Jedi down. And so why bother waiting when it could happen now? No… clearly they had enough information to at least begin building social weapons to take the Jedi out. What little they had was incriminating, especially since there was no need to build a leakproof case to prove the Jedi’s guilt.

They just needed to get people thinking and understanding that the Jedi had betrayed the galaxy.

“Do it,” was the decided statement, the pause to consider it only momentary. “Pick the best—get it out as soon as possible. If I can have it on my desk by tonight, even better. I don’t want time for rumors to start flying if someone in Propaganda decides to get gossipy.” It wasn’t so much that he thought they would… he just inherently didn’t trust anyone he didn’t pick himself. And even then, well…

“I still expect you to continue your research. Even after this goes public, I want you to head the investigation. If there’s dirt to be found, I want you to find it. We’re going to need everything available to throw at those bastards. What’s left of their shining reputation needs to collapse into a veritable black hole, or I’m not going to be happy.”

And again, it was personal. If he couldn’t have his cousin’s aid, no one could. And that meant making the Jedi so dislikeable that they weren’t worth associating with.

[Isayev Kuryakin]

At Isayev’s suggestion, the Grand Marshal looked thoughtful. The Intelligence officer could spot that the man hadn’t quite anticipated their capacity to respond so rapidly, an indication of his lack of in-depth involvement in the propaganda department. Both of them were on the more active front of their respective areas. Isayev preferred it that way, the people who fought with words in that way of theirs made him uneasy. He knew how it worked, used words as weapons as well, but not quite in the way that propaganda took the language and turned it into poison to be dropped in an ear. He would’ve been impressed, if they didn’t make him suspicious and uneasy.

But despite the signs, the Grand Marshal did not hesitate for long, a sign of a man well used to thinking on his feet and making quick decisions. If Isayev hadn’t known what to look for, the moment would have passed without any notice. It worked well, he imagined, among Avery’s own breed, the reporters, and the civilians. An apt leader, if anything, better than the soppy fish that made his home in the Confederate command structure. Isayev had no issue with his species, merely his political attitudes.

“I don’t want time for rumors to start flying if someone in Propaganda decides to get gossipy.” Isayev didn’t spare any time to feel indignant on their behalf. There hadn’t been a case of information leaked in the propaganda department, because most of them were completely on board with weaving tales that made the Confederation into a shining beacon of civilisation. Which it was.

“They’ll get the job done, sir. I’ll make sure you have the material as soon as they finish.” In the event something did go wrong, Isayev would be the one to blame for a lack of vigilance. So he’d be breathing down their neck just as much as Marin would be breathing down his.

“… or I’m not going to be happy.” It couldn’t be helped but notice how vehement Marin was being. It was natural to want the downfall of an enemy of the Confederation, especially one that could potentially garner much support for the Alliance… but this was more than just the Jedi picking sides. It felt personal, but Isayev wouldn’t be able to fathom why unless Marin told him outright, so he left well enough alone.

“Understood, sir. I’ll get to work immediately.” He clicked his heels together, throwing off a sharp salute, waiting for the dismissal.

[Avery Marin]

“They’ll get the job done, sir. I’ll make sure you have the material as soon as they finish.”

And just like that, Kuryakin was in Avery’s ‘good books.’ Not to say he was trusted or that he was infallible, but he had proven himself capable of listening and being useful, and so until he proved otherwise about his abilities, he would be the one that Avery was going to go to when he needed his Intel to be fresh and reliable. Nevermind the High Colonel’s superiors—the high up you got the chain of command, the harder it was to manipulate when it needed to happen. No, this particular agent would continue to suit his needs just fine.

“Understood, sir. I’ll get to work immediately.”

Just what the Grand Marshal wanted to hear. Another few points in the Colonel’s favor were stowed away safely. Points that might not necessarily save his life one day if Avery turned on him, but ones that would certainly get him some high profile work should it come around. Not that it got much more high profile than this, right? After all, this was the Jedi Order, a thing of near-myth these days. Bringing them down would be a titan of a job.

Kuryakin was clearly ready to get a move on, and the salute was a clear indication of that. But Avery lifted a hand, wiling him to stay just a moment longer. “If you would, High Colonel. I would ask a favor—and this is just to stay between you and me—if you don’t mind.” It was clear here that a ‘favor’ was not really so much a request at all. No, this was as expected as everything else he’d just ordered of him. “But if you would, any mention of a ‘Shay Marin’ in your search, any information on her at all… I would be very grateful if that information would make it across my desk, and my desk only.”

Because he needed to know what she had been up to, if he could. He was perfectly determined to find a way to coerce her to come home to stay.

[Isayev Kuryakin]

“I would ask a favor—and this is just to stay between you and me—if you don’t mind.”

Isayev hid his reaction to the Grand Marshal’s words, not letting an ounce of his cautious curiosity show outwardly. This would certainly be interesting, a Grand Marshal asking a favour. Most likely it was just another order, but one of a more subtle nature. An unsaid order that this would remain only between the two of them, rather than an order issued by the Confederate power. It was, if anything, a testament that Isayev would not find himself wanting for work in the future. Avery Marin would put him to use.

He relaxed his stance, spreading his feet a shoulders width as he waited for the Grand Marshal to proceed. The next words out the Grand Marshal’s mouth, “I would be very grateful if that information would make it across my desk, and my desk only,” were a surprise. Trained as he was, none of this surprise showed outwardly, his face as impassive as always, but it was concerting enough to cause the merest of twitches in his eyebrows before he clamped down on the reaction.

Shay Marin, Isayev could recall, was one of the many Marin progeny, notable in the fact that she’d been taken at a young age to the Jedi Order. Not well known information at all, but Intelligence knew everything, so that was hardly an obstacle for the Intelligence officer. Clearly she posed a risk to House Marin’s reputation, should it get out that she was now actively an enemy of the Confederation, not just estranged. Grand Marshal Marin was making it clear that he wanted Isayev to cover his tracks, any Intelligence source that named Shay Marin would have to be silenced, and any and all information received would go directly to the Grand Marshal’s desk and nowhere else.

“Of course, sir. I’ll handle it personally. Is that all, Grand Marshal?”