Quinn heard footsteps in the corridor just off the bridge. They were in hyperspace, so it was safe to assume it was just one of the crew. He didn't want to disturb anyone, particularly if the night stalker turned out to be Lord Xhareen, so he whispered to the comm port on the command chair where he sat, "Toovee, heads up text display only, current location of the ship's crew."

Everyone appeared to be in their quarters except for Xhareen. What in the galaxy was she doing standing in a corridor in the middle of the night?He didn't want to intrude, or to startle her, but he really wanted to know. Of course, it's my duty to know, he told himself.

As a security precaution only, naturally, he'd had the exterior corridors wired, along with command overrides in everyone's quarters, including hers. There'd be a log if he tried to listen in, even in a hallway, even in the middle of the night. But no one would check on a routine sweep of the non-private areas of the ship. Quinn would simply have to enter in his log that he'd been testing the systems – and now he'd have to do this routinely, though he decided that wasn't such a bad idea.

He smiled. Service really was its own reward.

He punched a few buttons and he could hear Xhareen, singing softly. It was not any tune he recognized; the tonal shifts seemed far too complicated for most of the holo-hits that Xhareen seemed fond of singing publicly. He couldn't imagine himself trying to sing notes like that. Even that song that she'd sung in the open mike cantina on Nar Shaddaa to heartfelt applause had been a relatively standard, even mawkish, ballad. He'd never told her that he followed her there, that he'd spied on her just as he was doing right now.

He'd caught her humming in the galley a few days later, and encouraged her to perform for the crew as part of "nightly sharing" after the evening meal. She'd suggested it as a way for the crew to get to know one another and to break up the boredom of hyperspace. She offered a more subdued version of the same song she'd performed in the cantina. It lacked the emotional rawness he'd heard in her voice that night, but it captured all the warmth and complexity that Miraluka were known for, and he was pleased that everyone showed her how much they enjoyed it.

Quinn could hear the lyrics she was singing now, and they weren't any language he was familiar with. He'd had a thought at one point on Balmorra to begin to listen to some Miralukan language instructional holos, curious about how it sounded. But these past weeks, after coming on board, training the crew and performing their mission on Nar Shaddaa, he hadn't found the time.

The strangeness of the words, and their sounds, was only part of the beauty of hearing her sing. Though she wasn't belting out notes like she was trying to subdue an opponent in battle, Quinn was taken by how she seemed to imbue her breathy whispers with so much sentiment.

A sudden thud, and Quinn was through the door before he even realized he was out of his chair.

"My lord! I heard a noise and came to check …"

"It's all right, Quinn." He looked down to see she'd dropped a mug. "I couldn't sleep, and came here to watch the stars and drink one of Toovee's tisanes."

"I heard singing," he said, bending to pick up the cup before he even realized he'd just busted himself.

She smiled. "That was a lullaby my mother used to sing to me. I could never get to sleep even as a child. She had the most beautiful voice, Quinn. That's what I remember most clearly about her."

She reached her hand out to him, and just when he thought she meant to hold his hand, he realized she was beckoning for him to give the cup back to her. He handed it over and began to stammer, "I-I didn't mean to eavesdrop, my lord. I was setting up a routine security scan …"

"Again, Quinn, it's all right. I should have known better than to try to skulk about on a ship run by you. Besides, the tisane has finally kicked in, which is probably why I dropped the mug."

She stopped to yawn, then turned away. "I'll be heading back to my quarters now, Captain. You can resume your scan." The way she flounced her arm as she said the word "scan" confirmed she knew it was as much scam as scan, but she didn't seem bothered at all.

"My lord, would you sing that song again sometime, during share time?" It was the best deflection he could think of.

"I will sing it again, Captain, but not for share time. I think perhaps I will keep this just between us. Command decision and all. Good night, Quinn."

"Good night, my lord," he said to her retreating silhouette. He watched until she disappeared around a corner, and he heard the swooshing sound of her quarter's doors, opening and closing again.

His ears began to ring in the silence, as though she had taken even the ship's ambient sounds with her. Or perhaps it was the third cup of caff he'd had after dinner.

Either way, he returned to the bridge and immediately ordered the computer to play back 30-second snippets of all recorded Miralukan lullabies. He wouldn't remember what he'd heard for long. And he wanted to remember this, always.