Young Writers Society

"That assumes they're not still reeling from the eradication of their people," he pointed out. "They've laid low this long; why would they jeopardize their position in favor of vengeance? You're only one hunter. They'd need thousands to take on the Empire."

"That may not be their goal. Besides, there's always one firey rebel in any population who will jeopardize everything if it gives him a chance at heroism. And if that fails, I will simply be a wayward soul, scorched from his planet by the heartless regime, searching the galaxy for magic that will help me restore my world. I am sure they can sympathize with that." His last sentence was a little cutting.

Tarkin's gaze cooled by a few degrees, and he stopped pacing. "I'm a man who likes to stay in good humor," he said, giving Sirejj's staff handle a pointed squeeze. "Take care how far you test my tolerance for veiled bitterness."

Sirejj merely smiled, but behind that smile his eyes flickered an even deeper green. "You are lucky it was the separatists who destroyed my home and not you."

He wanted to pull his staff away, but Tarkin held fast. He dared not allow the handle to burn him or otherwise rebel, he was still not quite sure how disposable he was.

"Dooku had a soft spot for your kind," Tarkin said icily. "I have no such respect. There would not have been an angry Zabrak like you left to throw barbed comments at me." He turned, spinning the staff idly, and strode away from the cathedral. "Find these Atoans for me and I shall consider giving this back. My ship is docked out of sight a few miles from here; look for a triangular crystal outcropping."

Sirejj felt his anger boiling over. Resistance would only lead to Tarkin pushing harder, he must have patience and play this game the long way. Instead, the moment Tarkin turned, he vanished into the shadows. He would go to his ship and collect a weapon, and then perhaps hunt down some pathetic Atoan who would be worth just enough to get his weapon back. But this was the only time he was willing to bargain. He would meet Tarkin ready to fight if need be, he would not be robbed of his honor again.

Tarkin headed back to his ship with a mixture of satisfaction and, oddly enough, fatigue running through him. Being back here was strange. It instilled emotions in him he was not accustomed to acknowledging, and the added confirmation of a presence in the cathedral had filled him with begrudging unease. Tarkin shook away the urge to dwell on these feelings and focused instead on the reassuring feel of the staff in his hand, which effectively turned his thoughts back to the Zabrak.

He was a difficult one, to be sure, quick to anger and quicker still to assign blame. It seemed he was also clever, if not very forthcoming with what he learned. Tarkin would straighten that out with time. Sirejj also appeared to know things about Atoan culture that he himself did not. That knowledge gap could be filled, then, and perhaps the investigation would move more swiftly and yield better results because of it.
Whatever the case, Tarkin very much looked forward to working with this strange being.

It took longer than he'd hoped to locate any life on this moon.

Sirejj could feel the presence of some remaining power. If there were any sacred ones who remained, they would be close to the heart of the moon. He knew where that was. He had intended to eventually make his way there before his plans were disturbed.

He made great effort to become invisible on the landscape. Part of him suspected Tarkin may follow with the intent of destroying the remaining Atoans. He couldn't have that, not until he learned from them. They were renowned for their knowledge of magic and the force, which is another reason he hid himself so well. If they felt the presence of the dark side, they may discover him prematurely.

Luckily for him, he was a master of disguise. He focused as he moved, feeling the spirit of the moon beneath him and using it as a cloak to melt his own signature into the heart of the planet. It had worked for all these years, evading Sith and Jedi alike. It was especially convenient against enemies who wielded the force. One former Jedi on Aldhani had discovered that the hard way.

That was something Sirejj would never understand about the Sith or the Jedi. Both seemed to believe attachments made one weak or compromised. They seemed to ignore the fact that it was their connection to the living force, the ability to feel all beings, the attachment to life, death, and the fate of the galaxy itself, that gave them their power in the first place.

Dathomir had been strong because she had shared her strength with her people. They functioned in symbiosis, each member adding to the power of the clans. That is what gave them strength. Alone, they were vulnerable.

Sirejj growled to himself. He was alone and without his weapon. His staff was part of what connected him to the world around him, bound with spells of seeing and insight. The thought of imperial scum idly twirling it like some childs toy had him seething. Breaking Tarkin's neck and getting it back was a tempting thought, but he had resolved to play his games for a time. His hunt for information would be vastly easier if he could do it under the guise of gathering intelligence for the empire.

Still, it felt disgusting to follow orders from the Empire. They were no better than the Separatists or the Republic, they were simply more dangerous. Some of the most powerful force users to cross the galaxy were aligned with them, which unfortunately meant Sirejj must tread lightly.

There. He stopped. Beneath the ground, he felt something. He crouched and placed his hand on the cold crystal ground and listened.

They were hiding within the moon's cloak like he was. They must have at least one of the sacred ones with them. He could feel them moving throughout the veil of the moon's magic. Their thoughts, their feelings, those were not all clear, but it was clear that they were trying to remain hidden. He could sense their fear. Perhaps they knew there had been intruders on their world. The inquisitors has certainly made no effort to hide their presence.

He smiled to himself in satisfaction. Of course they had remained hidden for so long, only one who understood how to see through the moon's veil rather than rend it in two could have discovered this hiding place. No Sith was capable of that. Some of the old Jedi perhaps, but they were all but extinct.

Tarkin was in the midst of a long and mildly harrowing talk with his wife.

"I still think I should have been consulted," Thalassa was saying. She had been lounging across the couch in her family home on Phelarion when he called, where she usually was these days, but now she was sitting upright with a grim expression on her lined face. "We don't know this person; if he's a Force user then he may be able to read your mind. Did you consider the repercussions of allying yourself with him? It's like catching lightning in a bottle!"

"He was here for a reason," Tarkin said coolly. He was sitting at the table in his sleeping quarters, sipping at a cup of tea. "He wants something here. What's more, he's nosy. I can see it in his eyes; he's not about to pass up an opportunity to learn things from me. How much I tell him is up to me, but so long as he thinks he can glean information about the Empire, he'll work with me."

"And then what?" Thalassa crossed her arms. "What do you do after he's decided he can't learn anymore? He'll try to kill you."

"Why should he? I've done him no wrong." Tarkin glanced at Sirejj's staff, which was leaning against the wall a few feet away. "I saved his life and allowed him to stay on this moon. He'll leave me alone once our business is concluded."

"Surely you're not going to let him walk away from you alive?"

"Not technically." Tarkin rolled his eyes. "But confronting a Force user head on is suicide, my dear, as I'm sure you know. I can send assassin droids and bounty hunters after him; I hear Cad Bane has taken on Jedi on multiple occasions and survived each time."

Thalassa leaned forward on the couch, pursing her lips. "You're sure he's worth the effort, Wilhuff? Has he found anything out for you or is this guesswork?"

"He sensed something in the cathedral," Tarkin said. "A presence."

Silence. Thalassa's eyebrow slid upward.

"I believe him," Tarkin said snippishly, crossing his arms. "Have dealings with the Jedi and the Sith and then come back to me with that expression on your face. A presence does not mean there are translucent beings floating about trying to scare away trespassers."

The eyebrow slid further up her forehead.

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Consider it an afterimage," he muttered. "That's how Vader explained it to me. A lingering remnant of things already past."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Thalassa said decisively. "But he sensed it. So?"

"He believes the woman I found will be the key to this. He is seeking out those who knew her."

"And when will he find them?"

"That remains to be seen."

Today would not be the day to make contact. They were beneath him somewhere, it would not be far to a cave entrance. But they may be deep down, too far to go without his weapon. They may venture to the surface once things quieted down. No, he would head back to the ship. But he needed some kind of proof. Tarkin wasn't going to just believe him.

He pulled a device from his belt and set it on the ground. Activating it and punching in the directions, he waited for it to perform a scan of the ground beneath him. If the Atoans were close enough to the surface, or if he could visualize some kind of active living space, he would have a visual scan to show the Grand Moff. It would have coordinates and a timestamp as well, so hopefully Tarkin wouldn't question him too much.

As he waited for the scan to finish he watched the landscape, crouched so still in the shadows he was nearly invisible. His eyes were the only thing that seemed to glow in the dark. He rarely carried a light with him, he simply didn't need it.

This moon was full of mysteries. Some of Tarkin's story didn't make total sense. He still wondered about the priestess destroying their holy place in the name of killing a few people. It didn't make sense. Not based on what he knew of the Atoans. It wasn't impossible, but it would have taken great turmoil for her to do such a thing.

It would be important to learn from Tarkin who else has been there. That would shed some light, and perhaps questioning them would be effective.

The scan finished. He picked up the device and opened the file. It revealed a cavern beneath the surface, which was clearly inhabited. There were some boxes and energy cells, which appeared active based on the scan's readings. So it wasn't just an old hole in the ground. People were living here.

He stood up and pocketed the device. This would have to do. He turned back towards his ship. If this wasn't enough, he may reconsider his agreement to even work with Tarkin in the first place.

"Rema--you didn't give him a deadline?!"

"I didn't feel the need to, no." Tarkin relaxed in his seat, but his eyes were chips of ice. "If you would like to come out here and manage this little investigation, you're more than welcome to. If you have problems with how I'm doing it."

Thalassa's jaw set. She knew as well as he did that she couldn't. If they were both absent from their usual routines that might raise suspicions, and besides, she was doing damage control on a shipping route the Treacle had been working with. A captain had let something slip--something like that. Tarkin didn't particularly care.

"At least keep me informed," she said through gritted teeth. "This affects both of us."

"As you wish." Tarkin set down his tea. "If you like, I will contact you upon his return and we may debrief him together. Would that be agreeable to you?"

"It would."

"Then you may expect to hear from me again. Hopefully soon. Goodbye, Thalassa." He stood and switched off the comm.

The whole excursion has only taken a couple hours, but it felt like a lifetime. Sirejj returned to his ship, a very small inexpensive vessel just good enough to get him from one spaceport to the next.

He boarded and went straight for the cockpit, powering up the vessel. He would find Tarkin's ship quickly and get his staff back.

This journey had been an interesting one so far, not a path he thought he'd be taking. But here he was, presented with an opportunity, and if he played his cards right, he may gain much through this meeting

Tarkin returned to the cockpit to sit down and await Sirejj's arrival. He was now dressed in loose-fitting cargo pants and heavy boots, with a light shirt and multipocketed canvas vest over top. A few knives and a small blaster hung from his belt.

The ship's viewing shield showed very little of the landscape. Tarkin had parked so the crystal formation would block the view into the ship, and so he was left staring at the jutting translucent fractals.

Thalassa had made some good points during their argument, even if Tarkin didn't want to admit it. Trusting Sirejj at all was a massive risk. Killing him would be difficult, but letting him go was impossible. Tarkin wished he could do it himself--the hunt would be invigorating and the kill would be something he could be truly, truly proud of. Killing a Force-sensitive was no easy thing. But he was realistic enough about his skills to know that was a fight he would lose. No, best to leave it to Bane or some other more skilled hunter.

Sirejj soon found Tarkin's ship and set down nearby. He set down hastily, impatient to have his weapon returned to him. He opened a small storage compartment and rummaged through the extra weapons he had. None matched the craftsmanship of his staff, save one. There was a saber, taken from the Jedi on Aldhani. He had kept it, as it was his rightful prize as the victor of that battle. But it felt foreign in his hands. It was not meant to be wielded by him. No, if ever he wanted to wield that weapon -which he did not- he would have to break the will of the crystal. And that something he did not have time for. Still, it would be an effective weapon if he must face Tarkin or anyone else before he got his staff back.

He did not suspect Tarkin would turn on him just yet, but he also couldn't read this one's mind as easily as some. He was unpredictable, and Sirejj didn't like guessing games.

He hid the saber in one of his belt pouches. He would never reveal it unless absolutely necessary. He tuned and left the ship and made his way to Tarkin's ship

The ship signaled an approaching life form, and Tarkin stood, lowering the gangplank. He strode down to the ground with the staff in his hand. Sirejj had not been gone nearly long enough to satisfy him, and he appeared to be alone. What was he playing at?