Myriad Reckonings

Sirejj bristled slightly but maintained his calm outward demeanor. Perhaps sooner or later he would have to show the Governor why he'd survived in the Dathomiri wilderness for as long as he had. "He sounds to be almost as agreeable company as yourself." He idly glanced down at the scars on his arms, remembering what it felt like to chase his prey through the forests. Hunting for sentient prey - true hunting; not serving some vengeful crime lord for credits, but hunting with one's own hands and eyes and mind - was a pleasure he'd not yet been allowed to experience.

"It would be interesting to see his trophies, I wonder if he has a Jedi mounted on his wall." He had the saber hidden in his robes, he didn't trust to leave it where it could be discovered. But he would not appear desperate to prove anything to this man so left it alone.

"He rarely leaves Eriadu," Tarkin said with a small smile. "Such an opportunity never presented itself to him." He thought for a moment, pursing his lips. "He's far too old for such exploits now. It's best he content himself with veermoks and urtogs."

"Opportunities are curious things. Often one must create their own in order to truly dominate. " He looked down the hall and then sideways at Tarkin, never evading eye contact but never outright challenging him either. Not yet.

Only scavengers were limited to the opportunities presented to them. A hunter knew how to take opportunities as well as make his own.

Tarkin caught the veiled meaning and brushed it away; Sirejj could judge Jova as he pleased. He'd never met the man, nor would he ever.

"I'd like to discuss logistics with you before we both retire," he said. "Regarding our purposes on Atoa."

"Proceed," he said. He'd been working on plans as well in his own head.

"We will resupply here and return to Atoa in two days. From there you'll find the remaining Atoans and do whatever it is you need to do--gain their trust if you wish, but get information about Garoche and this priestess. I will remain near the cathedral, where I was before, and when you've learned what you can I want you to bring one of them along. I want to question them myself."

Sirejj hated how similar their plans had been, because that meant he had to agree with Tarkin. "If you wish I will return with one. It may take some time and convincing to gain their trust."

"That's fine. We've waited this long--eight years." He shrugged. "Is there anything that might aid your understanding of things while we're here?"

He thought for a moment. "It would help to know your son's story. Was he a rebel? Rule follower? Did he keep secrets? Anyone he was particularly close to?"

Any details about him. Often it was the most insignificant of things that filled in the gaps in the story. If he was to hunt the ghost of Garoche Tarkin, he must know as much about him as possible.

Tarkin walked in silence for a few moments, thinking this over. "He was closer to his mother than he was to me," he said finally. "But I understand he valued my approval very highly." He wasn't one to give it readily; that had damaged Garoche from the beginning. "He completed the Carrion intiation by a hair, but he was always softer than any of us. Too sensitive, too conflict-averse. He wasn't going to go very far if I wasn't hard on him." Tarkin's jaw tightened. "He came to hate me for it. I didn't mind that, so long as he upheld the family name and values. Which he did. He graduated from the academy and joined the Empire with the rest of us when the time came."

"Would he have kept secrets from you that he would have told...anyone else?" No Tarkin, no matter how soft, just disappeared on a moon somewhere to turn up dead not long after. His son must have had an objective for going there and interacting with the Atoan people. Had he been hunting them like they were now? Trapping a rebel insurgent?

Sirejj understood the pressure behind rites of passage, his people required similar of their young males especially, to prove their physical and mental hardness by facing death head on. The consequences were unforgiving. But hierarchy in the tribes revolved around that strength. One had no choice but to fight.

Everything in Tarkin was pushing against admitting anything more. His son had a reputation--a good reputation outside the family--and that reflected on everyone.

"He was reserved when he talked to me," he said at last. "Thalassa was the one he trusted. And Captain Shale--an old friend from the academy. Shale died in an explosion around the same time Garoche was killed, but they were thick as thieves after school. That's why I assigned Shale to the recovery team in the first place." There hadn't been much left of Shale to bring back to his family. Tarkin had made the trip himself, carrying a box with an arm, half a leg, and a gold ring the boy had been wearing on his right hand.

Tarkin was not telling him everything. He doubted he would ever get the full story from him. He clasped his hands behind his back and thought for a moment. "Perhaps I could inquire of your wife if she knows anything more?" If he said no, he would find a way to contact her without him knowing.

"Oh, certainly. I was planning on contacting her anyway. She'll need to know we've come home." He glanced at Sirejj. "She's not here often, so I expect you'll be communicating with her via hologram." Thalassa never seemed to make this place her home. Even when they were still a close couple, she was back and forth between here, Phelarion, and later their apartments on Coruscant.

"I was under that impression as well." It would be best if he contacted her without Tarkin present, since they seemed to have some animosity between them. He would have to figure out a way to do that at some point.

They did not have the time for the full scale investigation, so he had to make do with what information he had. But he planned on learning as much as possible in a few days he had to his disposal.