Beyond the Darkness

(Want to skip to morning or do you have something planned?)

(nope morning works)

(Okie dokie)

Tarkin took the entire night's watch, administering the next dose of sedative as he'd said he would. The money would be here in another day, and then hopefully he would be rid of Sirejj.

Sirejj, despite is impression of indifference, was interested as to what kind of information their prisoner held that was so detrimental to the empire. Him being constantly sedated wasn't helpful for asking questions, though.


(thinking how all this would lead up to the attempted assassination of Dooku and Grievous. The prisoner would reveal some information that they'd be travelling through the system and they'd send a crew to sabotage the ship like in canon. Just need to work out the details of how these two play into that)

(Love it; I'll brainstorm as well)

The next day Tarkin woke the boy and told him to go hunting. He'd have done it himself, but he didn't trust Sev not to be tricked or apprehended by Sirejj.

"So." Sirejj said when the boy left. "I do wonder what this urchin might know that the Rebellion could want so badly."

"You'd love to know, I'm sure," Tarkin replied as he set about brewing some coffee in a small, portable machine. "But I'm not at liberty to say."

Sirejj grinned, but nothing in his eyes said he was amused. "Reasonably so, reasonably so. But I still can't help but wonder. How does your rebellion get information out of prisoners anyhow, ask nicely and hope for the best?"

"We have various techniques." He knew what Sirejj was getting at. It wouldn't do much good; the Rebellion made little secret about their methods but they didn't torture people nearly as bad as the Empire.

"I couldn't imagine a group of do-goods tormenting a poor soul such as that one till they give up whatever valuable bits they're hiding." He eyed Tarkin. "Except maybe you, I don't see you having a problem with a bit of blood and guts." He looked at Tarkin's knife and his rifle, which were always closely. As irritating as he was, Tarkin wasn't a weakling. If he had been, Sirejj would have disposed of him during their first skirmish.

"War makes people into what they need to be," Tarkin said grimly. "As do the wilds. Sometimes do-goods need to step into the gray area."

"The world unfortunately doesn't have a place for those people that consider themselves little sparks of light. That's a nice way of calling themselves cowards or squeamish." Perfectly aware that this statement was ever so slightly unfounded he went back to poking at the dirt with his staff.

"Then it's a good thing very few of us consider ourselves 'sparks of light.'" He took the readied mug of coffee and poured out another, which he offered to Sirejj.

"I wouldn't want to intrude." He refused in mock politeness and pulled a thin flask from his belt.

Tarkin shrugged and took out a dried milk packet, which he poured in and stirred.