Young Writers Society

Sirejj walked up with an air of confidence. Tarkin would be satisfied with this information or there would be trouble.

"I have located a hideout. They are deep within the planet, I believe they have sensed the recent...tension." he pulled the device from his belt. "And before you question me." He tossed the small scanner to Tarkin.

Tarkin caught it one-handed, examining it. "And you have not returned with a hostage," he said curtly. "Why?" The scanner seemed in order; the Zabrak spoke the truth. But he hadn't complied with his orders.

"You told me to find them, not bring you one. Besides, it wouldn't be wise to hunt them down now. No, they will tell us more if I return after they lower their guard. I believe they knew the inquisitors were here." Sirejj crossed his arms. "They would likely escape in the tunnels if they expected an attack."

Tarkin regarded him in silence for a moment, then turned back to the ship. "My wife wishes to meet you. You may tell us more after that." He had assumed the hostage had been implied in his instructions. Apparently not. And how long would it take for them to lower their guard, he wondered?

Sirejj raised an eyebrow. And my weapon? His patience was wearing thin. "Very well."

Tarkin led him inside to the cockpit and gestured for him to sit in the copilot seat. He kept hold of Sirejj's staff as he keyed in Thalassa's comm code, glancing again at the scanner. The comm buzzed for a few moments, then Thalassa's face and torso flashed up from the holoprojector.

Thalassa Tarkin, neé Motti, was a sharp-nosed, square-jawed woman with an aristocratic slope to her wide shoulders and dark eyes that seemed to pick apart anyone and anything they settled on. Her hair, clearly graying even with the holoprojector's distortion but still fairly dark, was done up in a complicated traditional Phelarionese braid. Her thin-lipped mouth was turned down in a small frown. She wore an expensive but fairly businesslike dress.

"Calling again so soon?" she asked wryly.

"He returned far earlier than anticipated," Tarkin replied. "I thought you might like to hear what he had to say."

Thalassa's eyes turned to Sirejj, and they narrowed.

Sirejj met her gaze unwavering. He studied her, he could just barely feel her presence by seeing her, but she was so physically far away that he must rely on subtle physical cues rather than the force to read her thoughts.

"With whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking?" He spoke, his voice measured, as if he was carefully calculating each word. But he must get her name, that was always necessary. His tone was almost respectful as he felt best to err on the side of caution till he better understood this woman.

"You may refer to me as Lady Tarkin," she said briskly. "You have something of note to share with us?"

Straight to business, Tarkin observed with a tiny smile of amusement--which she caught, of course, and her brow furrowed ever so slightly in question. He gave no response and she dismissed it. He should have known she mostly wanted to meet Sirejj so she could take the reins. Then again, her usual style was to hear what someone had to say, then grill them with questions. He himself preferred the interviews to be at the beginning of an encounter.

"Lady Tarkin." His said, giving the slightest nod of his head. His tone was placating but still held the slightest bit of curbed rebellion. "I seem to have discovered something of great value to you and your husband." His words were deliberate, sensing that The Lady would have less desire to play the game of sharp retorts than Tarkin.

"It appears there is a remaining civilization of Atoans still left on this moon." He looked at Tarkin. "The scans, if you will." He said with a smile and an air of politeness he knew Tarkin would see straight through.

Thalassa's interest was piqued, Tarkin could see. He brought out the scanner and queued up another holoprojection from its display.

"So your contact wasn't lying," she mused, leaning forward to get a better look at the display. "Did you speak to any of them, either of you?"

"The Zabrak believes we should wait." Tarkin's tone carried reproach. "He thinks he can infiltrate their defenses."

"The guests we had earlier frightened them I think." Sirejj rubbed his wrists which were probably going to remain bruised for some time. "They are deep within the moon. I believe they have at least one of their holy ones still alive with them. There's no other way they would have avoided detection for so long."

"And how exactly do you intend to make contact with them?" she asked. "If they're so deeply sequestered, one would think they have a decent means of defense."

"They weren't well-equipped eight years ago," Tarkin said pointedly. "Not when Garoche was there and not when I came in a few months later with the Star Destroyers."

"Genocides tend to make people stockpile so it doesn't happen again, in my experience," Thalassa replied. "We should assume they have decent weaponry."

Sirejj chuckled. These imperials were to quick to assess the strength it would take to squash their opponent.

"I feel I can reach them by my own means." He had a strong feeling he could get them to believe his story and I'm doing so get close enough to discover more about what happened. That would be amusing. He had resolved from a young age to never live as a victim, but he certainly knew how to use the fate of his people in his favor.

"And what means is that?" Tarkin asked. "Surely you don't think they'll befriend you." His eyes flicked to the tattoos and the horns, the predatory visage. "It would be less hassle simply to go in quietly, take the remaining priest or priestess, and interrogate them. You'd be in and out in a couple hours."

"I think he has a point, actually," Thalassa said. "Think about it, Wilhuff. If they decide they want their clergy back, they'll come out in force. The outpost will get wind of it and then there will be questions--"

"You underestimate the power of fear, Thalassa." The look she gave him would have withered a lesser man.

"I have a perfectly good handle on that particular tool, dearest," she said with icy calm. "Now let the Zabrak tell us his plan."

"A mind is a vessel. Once you have cracked it open enough to see what you want, you've lost half of the contents." Befriend was a strong word. But he was a user of magic, and it wouldn't take very much for him to come across as a hater of the empire. These two things he would have in common with the Atoans. The magic here for certain was different than the magic of Dathomir, but not all that different.

"I believe they will speak to me. They may not willingly disclose all of their information, but they won't have to. If they can provide me one way or another with a close enough connection to this Moon I believe I will be able to see what I need to see." That had been his plan since he stepped foot on this moon, the only difference now was he needed a few more details. "I am, how do you say...like-minded. When it comes to their sorcery that is." He guessed neither of these two wanted to hear a lengthy explanation on the functions of magic, and he didn't particularly want to explain it.