Young Writers Society

"He's a feisty one," Tarkin observed when the Dathomriian growled, stepping a little closer. "And do you intend to contact your master while you're in transit or here on this moon? Because I'd like very much to speak with this fellow myself." His eyes fixed on Sirejj's face. "His interests may align with mine." He'd decided that he'd tell a half-truth, if asked. Vader would be told that Tarkin was hunting down the remaining Atoans--making sure that none were left alive. This Zabrak, whoever he was and whyever he was here, would act as a tracker. Whatever the Inquisitor wanted with him, Tarkin was sure he could put him to better use--especially since the Zabrak would be in his debt.

"We intend to contact him soon as possible to begin our questioning." The sister's tone became shaper, the thought of losing her prey to one who had not done the hunting was maddening. Still, she kept her cool. She was more afraid of Vader than she was her feelings being hurt.

Sirejj heard a fourth voice, one he did not recognize. It was clear and authoritative but quiet, as if the speaker was so sure of himself he felt no need to raise his tone and cast mere threats. No, this one was intelligent. Not like the inquisitor brutes. Despite this, he sounded no more trustworthy than his captors, and in fact, this one felt more dangerous. He was a hunter, and his steps on the ground were heavy, bearing the weight of great darkness hidden beneath all the imperial formality.

"Don't let me stop you, then." Tarkin gave her a thin smile and squared his shoulders, making it clear that he would not be leaving until they did. It was clear this Inquisitor was frustrated and impatient; he could sympathize. Being robbed of one's quarry was never an easy thing. But he had questions for the Dathomirian that Vader's hounds could not ever be privy to, and it was clear she needed to learn her place. He'd snap the Zabrak up for himself if he wanted to. Which he did. The Empire's critics often cited an overabundance of rules and regulations in the new regime, but Tarkin found that it was often as lawless as the jungle he'd grown up in. It suited his tastes, admittedly.

The Inquisitor did need to watch herself, though. Her attitude bordered in churlish, which simply wouldn't do. He'd have to mention it to Vader next time they met.

"Many thanks. I'm sure our master will be glad to hear from you after our questioning is through." She motioned for the other two to follow her as she stepped onto their ship. Once they were on board she quickly moved to contact the Grand Inquisitor. She would try and push her point, to either win the Dathomirian over or kill him. Nothing would please her more than to keep the lofty imperial from stealing this one from them.

As they drug him aboard Sirejj shook his head and began to move, and his eyes caught Tarkin's as he was hauled aboard. He muttered something indistinguishable.

The questioning would not take long. The sister debated mentioning Tarkin's presence at all, though she had a feeling whether she did or not, it would be found out. She still wondered what he was even doing here in the first place. It couldn't have been simply to meddle, he was too important for such things. There was something else.

Tarkin, not one to be left behind, boarded the ship after them, milling about in the cockpit's doorway. He was in no hurry to go anywhere just yet, and he certainly had no intention of leaving these Inquisitors unattended. He didn't think they'd leave--the consequences would be dire if they did--but he didn't trust them any more than they trusted him.

The Dathomirian was starting to come out of whatever shock he'd been in; they'd made eye contact as the Inquisitors took him aboard. The intensity of his gaze was striking; Tarkin had a feeling he'd be difficult to work with, but an invaluable asset all the same. They'd have a little chat after he cleared things up with the Grand Inquisitor.

It was not long before voices could be heard. They were talking to the Grand Inquisitor. Sirejj spoke now, his voice hoarse as he made an effort to recover from being handled so rudely. It was hard to make out all what was said, but at length Sirejj laughed.

"Are all Force users so narrow minded? I am neither Jedi nor Sith. Both have degenerated to ignorant slime at this point-" at that moment his words were abruptly cut short.

"As you can see master, this one doesn't seem to share our values." The sister said, her hand flinching ever so slightly as if wishing she was holding her saber.

"Perhaps not entirely, but I do value his insight." The grand Inquisitor said, carefully studying the prisoner before him. "The galaxy is changing, and we must do our part to survive. Wouldn't you agree?"

Sirejj gasped for breath as if he had not been allowed to breathe since his last statement. "If...if destroying everything in your path is what you call survival, then I'm afraid we do indeed disagree." Survival. He was willing to bet no one on this ship understood the real meaning of the word. More ignorance.

"If I may." Tarkin stepped in, giving the Grand Inquisitor a small nod. "I was in the area when this Dathomirian was apprehended. If his malleability to your cause is being called into question, perhaps he could better serve my purposes in the Atoan system." He had no doubt the Grand Inquisitor would push back. The only issue would be if he pushed it up the chain of command to Vader. Tarkin wasn't enthusiastic about that prospect. It was almost worth it to pursue control over the Zabrak, but lying to a Sith lord he'd actually known since the Clone Wars (though neither of them cared to acknowledge it) was nigh impossible.

The Grand Inquisitor paused for a moment, and then waved to the three. "Leave us to speak, and take him with you. Do not harm him just yet." He did not fancy speaking to an officer of such importance with the squabbling apprentices present. The three of them had been acting particularly embarrassing as of late. They were strong alone, or strong in pairs, but any more than that led to infighting almost immediately.

"Grand Moff Tarkin, our paths cross again. What is the occasion that brings you to the Atoan system?" He had a few guesses, but those he kept to himself.

"Tying up loose ends," he replied, waving a hand dismissively. "It seems the Atoan culling was not quite so complete as I had assumed. This Zabrak...I had assumed no one but myself had a vested interest in this system. It was a surprise to find not just him but some of your master's operatives active not far from me." It never hurt to remind the Grand Inquisitor of his own connection to Vader. "The Zabrak isn't young. Not by your standards. I would be shocked if he was anything more than a nuisance to the Inquisitorius, frankly. He's better off dead or put to alternate use." He offered the Inquisitor a smile that would have looked friendly if his teeth weren't bared slightly behind the lips. "I'm sure he would be of value to me."

"He would be of great use to us if he was controllable, but I'm sure you must know of the reputation these Dathomirians have. Rebellious...hostile. This one I was willing to let meddle around the galaxy playing with his magic until he interfered with some of our business on Aldhani." There were several children of Dathomir who in recent history had caused many problems for Sith and Jedi alike. They aligned themselves with each other and neither order was able to break that attachment.

If the Grand Inquisitor could not control the Zabrak, he doubted anyone else could, let alone one who couldn't use the force. He knew Tarkin had secrets and did not like the idea of him having a henchman who thought ill of the Sith order or the Empire. He could easily see this becoming a loose cannon situation, which he would have to answer to Vader for.

"I'm sure you know by now that I specialize in breaking in wayward individuals. A Force-user may pose a...unique challenge, granted, but what cannot be achieved with brute force could most certainly be achieved with leverage. Debts, promises, threats. The usual currency for the rabble of the galaxy." He tilted his head. "I'm sure you must have concerns about going over your superior's head. It will not fall back on you, I promise you this." So long as you comply. The Inquisitor's hesitation was understandable. Vader was not a forgiving man.

"It seems like you and I both understand the consequences." He clasped his hands behind his back. Why was Tarkin so interested in this one? It made him almost suspicious. He could not see into Tarkin's mind like he could most, nor was his path in the force a clear one. "I am not sure it would be wise to release him, even to such a man of strength as yourself. It may prove more trouble than it's worth."

It made him uneasy, not so much about what Vader would do to him if he failed, but what Tarkin would use this Zabrak for. There were things that he would not want made public to the entire Imperial military, or even to Vader himself. He knew that if Tarkin could uncover every secret in the Galaxy, he would. And that would be less than ideal.

"May I ask why you are so eager to make him one of your inquisitors?" Tarkin asked. "It seems a Force-sensitive veermok would be just as effective as one of your elite warriors. If the Zabrak is as useful as you say, then his skills would be wasted in the Inquisitorius." His eyes narrowed. "I did not have to speak with you today, Inquisitor. I could simply have ordered your operatives to turn over the Zabrak without consulting you at all. This is a generous favor--now you can tell Vader you spoke with me directly rather than hearing second-hand from the others. I imagine his questions would have been myriad if you'd had no proof of my invovlement."

The Grand Inquisitor was silent for a moment, perhaps taking time to gather his dignity. But it did not show on his face.

"If you see potential in this creature, then you may have him. He would be of little use to us." He'd lost this one. Let Tarkin deal with this troublesome Zabrak. Perhaps one day he would be so much trouble that Vader would order him taken down, and then would he have his way.

Tarkin dipped his head. "I appreciate your cooperation. Do give my regards to your master." A risky dig; hopefully if the Inquisitor sensed the barb behind those words he'd think it was targeted toward himself. "And kindly call off your dogs; they seem eager to bite."