Two days before, he had languished behind the keyboard of his personal terminal. He had gotten a place to stay on Tarthos. It had been next to nothing, barely a hole in the wall, but it had been his. He had not depended upon anyone else for those few months. He had already cancelled his accounts as the head of the Shar Dakhan cult. He had been prepared to cash in his chips.
Something kept him in the Orian system. He couldn’t explain what siren song kept him coming back. He had sworn off the place the first time. He had told himself time and again, he would not come back. Twice in the hot seat, twice leading the same house.
It was pretty clear that she didn’t recognize him. Well, not really. No, she had failed to recognize the old in him. Time had been hard, with laughter lines giving way to age and worry. Perhaps it was not too late.
“To whom it will concern, re: the house of Versea, re: the cult of Sadow, greetings” had been his opening line. He had fancied himself something of a word smith, and yet any sort of pomp or circumstance had escaped him. He labored over the message for hours. Painful emotions echoed in his mind as he struggled to find the words to express them.
She would come. She had to. There had been so much left unsaid. The system could be in danger. There could be a shcism in the Clan. She was a hell of a woman. Take your pick.
Maybe not that last one. He really didn’t want to get involved in something that reminded him of a cheap daytime holodrama.
His words were short and to the point. His message was simple, vague, but simple. “We have a mutual problem. Meet me at that bar a block down from Orian Memorial Hospital. I think it is time I red you into the situation.”
It has been a bit since I came here. It was an old dive bar that had been around for years. She remembered the last time she had met up with Cimozjen and smiled though she wondered what sort of mutual problem they had. She wore her tight fitting gear,sort of a black leather outfit that complimented her body showing a little more of her curves. She brushed back her lekku as she sauntered up to the door and stepped inside. Cimozjen was sitting down near a corner booth taking a drink of some Corellian bourbon in a glass. He spied her walking up to him.
“Evening, care if a lady keeps you company for a bit?” She asked a small smile forming around her mouth.
He raised an eyebrow as he looked the former Proconsul over. “Is that the style of the day now, or are you just in a choice mood?” A hint of a smile pulled at the edges of his mouth as he took another sip of his drink. He had chosen an outfit more low key, whereas the Twi'lek’s outfit more clearly defined her assets.
Was she hoping that something would happen?
“So I have to ask, how does the scarred one feel about you out at this hour with another man?”
“I could care less what the scarred one thinks."She grinned. "This outfit allows me more freedom of movement should I run into trouble.” She then raised an eyebrow at the man drinking and smirked. “So I take it you like what you see then. But of course this wasn’t simply just a social chat though from your message. So what were you wishing to discuss?” She then set herself down across from him. She pushed her lekku back behind her as she crossed one leg over the other and set her hands in her lap folded together as she looked at him.
How can she be so glib? Cimozjen gawked for a moment, thrown briefly off balance. “Not my business to even consider.” The words came out nearly a grumble. “Have you kept any real tabs on your husband after he vacated his station?” The man lifted his drink up, peering over it at the Twi'lek as he took another draw. “Because,” he licked his lips, savoring hints of vanilla and caramel, “we may have a mutual problem. My connections to the Inquisitorius network note transmissions to and from the Holocron Library with his credentials.”
“Oh, that is right.” Her face darkened. “He still has access to certain things because of his duties he had before. This is grave indeed. If he’s been accessing the Holocron Library…” She stopped putting a hand to her head in a frustrated sigh. “We need to figure out a way to cut off his access. There’s no telling how much damage he can and will cause with all the knowledge contained there. Darkhawk needs to be aware of this.” She sat back massaging her head. “Why does he always stay one step ahead. Dammit.”
The man blinked several times. “How do you propose stopping the Keeper of the Holocrons from accessing the stacks?” He tilted his head. “It appears that little has changed. It is the nature of the files accessed that had me concerned. What were you concerned about he did not already presumably have access to?”
She sat there rubbing her temples. “I don’t know exactly Cimozjen. He must already have several personnel files I am sure. I know he’s been wanting my daughter, no doubt he is also looking for anything on her location, however he still won’t find her because I didn’t put anything about her or where she was sent. So at least she is safe for now.” She looked up at the man. “I highly doubt I really have any way to actually stop him. What I am more concerned about is his next move. He is cunning, witty and no doubt will do something soon enough. I just am not sure how we can prepare for when he does try something. He is truly mad and all I want to do is destroy him so he won’t harm anyone else.”
The Corellian looked down, swirling his drink thoughtfully. “I assisted the Shadow Academy for a period of time. My credentials are still good, at the moment. I have a list of files he accessed, but I don’t know what good they will do us.” He took a slow sip, drawing his courage up.
An angry woman, a jealous woman, and a dangerous woman could be multiple sides of the same coin. Tasha'Vel could be all three. He worried about her next reaction.
“Medical texts, ancient Sith rituals, various odds and ends. There was a reference to something called Blackwing but it didn’t refer to anything on my access level. Does that offer up any clues?”
“My first thought was to locate him. I don’t have the skills to do so, but I assume you might know someone? Alternatively, we might hit the street but I am at a bit of a loss at where to start. There have been some gangs who have been operating, some missing persons-something I believe you might be aware of, and some black market trade in supposed Dark Side artifacts. I highly doubt they would be related though.”
“Yeah, well if we are going to track him, we need someone with some good skills. I think I can find use someone, question is just would they be willing to help.”
Cimozjen brought his hand to his chin, thinking deeply. “I don’t know a lot of folks outside of the Clan. I don’t really know much of anybody inside the Clan who would fit that sort of profile.” He stopped, narrowing his eyes at the Twi'lek. “Did you have someone in mind?”
“I am not sure exactly myself. All I know is he can track people. That would ve of course our current Overlord, Darkhawk.” She stated as she ordered a drink.