Young Writers Society

Tarkin seated himself in the cockpit. He didn't trust Sirejj enough yet to leave him unguarded, and so he rested his feet on the other chair and gazed at the Zabrak.

Today had not gone as planned at all. He'd have found the Atoans within two weeks if everything had gone to plan, but instead they were fleeing home with their tails twixt their legs. His face grew stony. Retreat was not something he was accustomed to anymore, and humiliation burned steadily in him. He shifted his shoulders, looking away from Sirejj, and turned his mind to how many he'd kill, how quickly, who he'd leave alive to torment. The examples he would make of them all.

Part of him understood his hatred. Even though some of his people had not treated him kindly, he was still filled with anger whenever he thought about Grievous's ravaging of his planet and Dooku's exploitation of his people.

It was impressive the level of fury contained in this one being.

Sirejj remained still, trying to focus on his own thoughts rather than Tarkin's extremely loud ones. This would be a long couple of hours.

About half an hour passed without Tarkin saying a word, though his thoughts mellowed out slightly and turned to Garoche again, turning over what he already knew and picking it apart for the hundredth time. It still didn't make sense to him, the story he'd been told and the scene he found under the rubble.

For the entire journey Sirejj didn't say a word. He meditated, moving every so often to adjust his seat, but was otherwise still. There was still plenty to ponder in both his thoughts and Tarkin's.

The ship came out of hyperspace facing a forest planet dappled with oceans and wispy clouds. Tarkin sat up and steered them downward. Once they had entered the atmosphere, he zipped through the forested areas to a city.

"I have several homes," Tarkin informed Sirejj. "This is the one I'm least concerned about you seeing."

Sirejj chuckled, slowly standing up. "It is beautiful, at least from the sky." He wondered what the hunting was like down there, or what things were hidden in the caves and beneath the oceans. Each new system was always an opportunity.

"Beautiful and deadly," Tarkin said, nodding towards the wilds before he circled lower into the urban landscape.

Eriadu City was certainly not the most populated place in the galaxy--it was only six hundred levels high—but it gleamed as if some gigantic being had taken care to polish all the buildings to a blinding sheen dulled only by the clouds. Many of them were made entirely of glass, reflecting the towering mountains against which they were nestled and the endless gray sky above. The architecture was modeled heavily on the buildings of Coruscant but with more curvilinear motifs in the actual frames. They gave the impression of giant silver roots or vines twisting around the stylus-shaped skyscrapers, and overhead were skylifts carrying passengers up to more isolated parts of the city, which clung on near the tops of the mountain peaks.
There were also countless statues and memorials to be seen spotting the plazas and squares, many of them holding weapons or striking heroic poses.

At last Tarkin brought the ship down on the landing platform of a sprawling mansion. The front was occupied by an extravagant garden while the back opened up onto a lawn and a forested park. The mansion itself also took inspiration from Coruscanti architecture, but it was on the outskirts of the city rather than atop a skyscraper. It wasn't very tall, but the house itself spanned more than a thousand acres of land.

Sirejj just watched. He appreciated architecture that drew inspiration of the planet itself, even though it still was reminiscent of the industrial buildings of Coruscant. But his interest was in the forests. If they didn't have business to attend to, he'd like to slip away from Tarkin's suspicious gaze and vanish into the forest for a few hours.

Deadly sounded like a brilliant challenge. Dathomir was home to some of the most brutal, ever-hungry fauna in the galaxy. The clans and the predators hunted each other, constantly circling, waiting for one to stumble.

He wondered if there would be anything as terrifying as a rancor or nydek living in those forests. It had been some time since he faced any of those creatures.

Tarkin rose and headed for the gangplank, gesturing for Sirejj to follow. "You're not to say a word to anybody while you're here," he told him. "There will be servants, of course, but my brother may be around. He's not to know a thing, do you understand?"

"Of course, Governor." He smiled, the mischief in his eyes making him appear even less trustworthy. He wouldn't tell of course, as that would just make things more complicated. But he couldn't help but he amused at the imperial ordering him around like a stormtrooper.

"What is our cover story? I am unfortunately a sight for sore eyes on a planet like this." His brother. Was he as difficult as a character as Tarkin? If so he would be bound to ask prying questions.

"Gideon is the only person likely to ask about you. I'll be telling him you're a bodyguard assigned to me by the Emperor as a precaution; there were some conflicts earlier this month that could serve as an explanation." Tarkin stepped off the ship, pressing two fingers to his lips thoughtfully. "I would prefer you stay here in the compound, anyway. You'll draw less attention. We'll only be here a few days."

"Of course, it wouldn't be proper of your loyal bodyguard to be running off into the forests." He still may attempt it anyway if the time was right. He could feel the mystery and the strength of many beings living in the depths of those dark woods. It was distracting to say the least.

"It wouldn't be proper even if you weren't my bodyguard," he retorted, brushing off a servant and protocol droid as he walked toward the house.

"Should we ready a guest room, sir?" the servant, a near-human, asked.

"The one nearest my chambers," Tarkin replied.

Sirejj admired the house as they went inside. It had been a while since he had slept somewhere other than the cold hard ground or on his ship. He took in everything. Entrances and exits, the height of the building, the guard posts. It never hurt to be prepared.

There were quite a few guards--stormtroopers and a few that wore Eriadu colors. The building itself was about four stories tall and surrounded in all sides by a security field and a decorative fence.

Tarkin glanced over his shoulder. He supposed he could trust the Zabrak not to wander too much. Sirejj had to stay close to maintain the illusion, anyway. That should keep him from straying.