"As you wish," he sighed, getting up from his chair to stretch. A couple joints popped audibly. "You'll report back to me promptly, of course. Bring them to me if at all possible." He was reluctant to let Sirejj go by himself if only because a double cross was more likely when there was no one around to see. That said, they'd agreed beforehand and it did make sense. If the Atoans could feel his presence, he could very well cause hostilities and then they'd have no answers at all. He'd bide his time and let Sirejj do the heavy lifting; the fellow didn't seem adept at diplomacy but he knew the Force. That would hopefully be enough for the Atoans.
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
They hate each other so much sometimes it's hilarious.
Sirejj mused for a moment. "If I may be so free, what happens if you dislike the information I bring back?" His provoking attitude was returning slowly now that he didn't have a Sith Lord breathing down his neck.
He was edging closer to the question of what Tarkin intended to do with him. He knew he'd never get the truth, but he wanted to see if Tarkin's fleeting thoughts would confirm his suspicion.
Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. - The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Tarkin tapped his chin, eyeing Sirejj for a moment. "Well, that depends on how much I dislike it, don't you think? Try not to bring back nothing and things will turn out fine." The worst case scenario was that the Atoans had no information at all. He'd be back to square one, then. But if they had bad news...well, it was still news. That would be something he could work off of. Tarkin would rather have something unfortunate than nothing at all.
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
"Bringing back nothing is out of the question. I'm surprised you consider that a possibility." He leaned against the doorframe. "I'm more concerned about what happens if I find something you don't expect." Sirejj had one sneaking suspicion but he doubted Tarkin would tolerate him saying it aloud.
Ever since the discussion with Thalassa at the dinner table, he had begin to explore a possibility that perhaps Garoche had strayed from the original initiative. To what degree, he wasn't sure. He doubted it had gotten to the point of blatant treason, but he suspected there was some sympathy the boy held which had been his downfall.
He had briefly debated finding out what he wanted to know from the Atoans and then finding a way off the moon, but he knew the governor was more than ruthless and would have his head on a stick if he tried something like that.
Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. - The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
"I'm not some shrinking violet," Tarkin scoffed. "I'm not going to blow away on the wind the second something surprises me." He paused; Sirejj's words sounded rather deliberate. "Is there some reason you would be concerned about such a thing? Perhaps something on Eriadu proved useful?"
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
Sirejj sensed he must tread lightly. Trapped in a giant metal box flying through hyperspace with a dangerous individual such as Tarkin was not a situation to take for granted.
"I am merely advising you to consider all possibilities concerning the demise of your son. The information on Eriadu was useful but did everything but provide me with a clear answer. I sense the answer won't be cut and dry." Exploring all possibilities put Tarkin in a very vulnerable position. Sirejj suspected Tarkin had not gone as far to consider answers to the questions that may not line up with the man he thought his son was.
Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. - The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Tarkin rested against the back of the chair, raising an eyebrow. "You should know by now I have little patience for vagueries, Sirejj. Speak your mind." Cryptic answers were the farthest thing from useful. Sirejj might enjoy withholding information, but playing games with a matter as important to Tarkin as this was a risky business.
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
"I have nothing to speak just yet. Only a warning that I doubt the answer we discover will be a palatable one." He truly did not know what they'd find. He sensed Tarkin's irritation. It revealed to him that Tarkin was as driven as even for answers and that if he discovered one he didn't like, there was no telling how he'd react. Even Sirejj couldn't foresee what kind of reaction Tarkin might have
Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. - The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
"No, I imagine not," he said, crossing his arms. His fingers dug into his sleeve hard, but his face remained impassive. His internal frustration had intensified; Sirejj's nonanswer only made him want certainty more. It seemed he wouldn't get it yet, though, and he did need his bodyguard to be agreeable for at least a few more days. He'd find out eventually, one way or another. "I do hope for that you'll tell me your initial suspicions if they turn out to be false."
Spoiler
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
"As I said, there are no suspicions set in stone." He looked away, his eyes glancing over the controls and then out into space. Though his eyes were away from Tarkin, his mind was not. Cryptic and vague his questions may be, but they were prodding Tarkin in all of the right places. He revealed more through his frustration than he did when calm and collected.
However, Sirejj planned to keep his head on his shoulders for a little longer. He changed the subject slightly.
"How long till we reach Atoa? I'll admit my curiosity has been captured by this mystery. I'd like to see its resolution." He clasped his hands behind his back. What he didn't say is that it weighed on him as much as it interested him. It had been worse in the house back on Eriadu where the air had been thick with anger, guilt, and fear. Garoche's story was an open wound to his family, and though Sirejj couldn't care less about the fate of some imperial officer, reaching out through the Force to find the answers he sought came with a price.
He felt a little uneasy about all of it. Perhaps the answers would put them all at rest.
Spoiler
narrator: the answers did in fact not put anyone at rest
Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. - The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
"Less than ten minutes until we exit hyperspace," Tarkin replied, returning to his seat. His leg bounced for a moment, before he stilled it. He was anxious to be off the ship and doing productive things; they'd been delayed too long. Hopefully those pirates were gone, but if they weren't he could take out some of this restless energy on them. He smiled faintly at the thought. "Tell me where to drop you off; I'll stay in orbit until you've made contact with the Atoans unless you think I can land without upsetting their delicate constitutions."
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
"I think your idea will work best. The coordinates from that scan I took." He held up the small device he'd used to take a scan of the ground where he'd found the hideout. "I think a kilometer south of this will work. That will put us behind some mountains and is a reasonable distance on foot." He turned back to the main hull of the ship to gather some of his things. He produced a cloak he'd managed to acquire while on Eriadu. It wasn't anything of value, but it would do well to help keep him warm and cover his head. He couldn't decide if that made him look more or less menacing.
He took his stolen saber as well. It may come in useful. He was inventing a story in his head he hoped the Atoans would buy. He also wanted to keep his valuables on him in case Tarkin tried anything. He wouldn't put it past him once he got what he wanted. Most of his other things fit in pockets or pouches on his belt or vest.
Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. - The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Tarkin watched him pack. "Taking your weapons along, I see. That'll certainly convince them to talk to you. I would leave the staff behind if it were me." He was mostly curious about how easily Sirejj would part with it; the Zabrak's attachment to it had continued to intrigue him since their first meeting.
He'd be carrying his own weapons once he got down there, of course, but they were easily concealed. There was a hunting knife in his boot, another strapped under his jacket, a small blaster pistol at his hip, and a stiletto the length of his middle finger sheathed on his wrist. Tarkin wasn't a man to be caught unprepared.
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
"I think I'll get along just fine." He would perhaps stash them somewhere if he decided they'd put the Atoans off too much. Hardly anyone in the galaxy would travel unarmed. Intentionally looking harmless might alert them more than carrying a weapon. "I simply want them available if need be." He sensed Tarkin's interest in his staff and that annoyed him. If Tarkin thought he was going to take it from him, he had another thing coming.
Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. - The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
"Just so long as you don't jeopardize the mission." He gave the staff a meaningful look, but let it go. "Do you even speak their language?" One of his son's few reports before he went missing had detailed a pointed resistance to even learning Galactic Basic. Garoche had been frustrated by this, he remembered. Tarkin hadn't particularly cared one way or another; they were insurgents and therefore not long for this world at all. Learning Basic have been pointless for them.
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
We are not to simply bandage the wounds of victims beneath the wheels of injustice, we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself. — Dietrich Bonhoeffer
