As the last crumbs of the haul from the cantina on Balmorra disappeared, Quinn kicked back in his chair in a rather uncharacteristic sprawl, holding his glass out to Melia for a refill from one of the several bottles she'd procured. She poured him a fresh round of the thick, dark ale, topping off her own glass as well. The meal had been quiet, both siblings seemingly lost in thought. Melia couldn't quite shake the image of the Imperial lieutenant slumping over his desk, dead before he knew what had hit him. Despite the naive, privileged image her occupation as a schoolteacher in a small private school on Dromund Kass afforded her, she was not completely unaccustomed to violence - couldn't be, growing up in a family full of career military and Intelligence personnel. Still, the idea that Malavai, whom she had all but raised as her own after their mother's disappearance - and later their father's death - despite their relatively close proximity in age, could be capable of such an act shook her. She knew it was by no means the first life he had taken, but there was something unsettling about theoretical knowledge of something like that suddenly becoming first-hand. Melia pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, and took a long pull of her drink, then nearly jumped when she felt Malavai's hand on her arm.

"I warned you," he said gently.

"I know."

A moment's silence passed, both of them turning their attention to their drinks.

"It's not as if I pretended to myself that you'd never shot a man before," she finally said quietly, "but the fact that it was someone wearing the uniform you normally wear, who had sworn himself to the same cause as you, literally sitting where you once sat…"

Melia trailed off as Malavai drained the rest of his glass before running a hand through his hair, making the parts that had been smashed flat by his hat suddenly stand on end. He refilled his glass, then silently held up the bottle in offering to her. She nodded at him, and as he poured, he spoke.

"I have killed for many reasons. All of them felt justified, if not personally, then by the larger purpose I believed I served. Today was no exception, but that makes it no less regrettable. The difference, perhaps, is the driving purpose."

Malavai paused as if searching for words, then turned to look directly into Melia's eyes.

"That young man swore, as I did, to die for the Empire if necessary. Patriotism is a powerful master. Yet as I have learned all too well, it is too easily twisted to serve private, selfish agendas. Perhaps I am merely doing just that to justify my actions. However, I believe with all of my heart that I serve the Empire now more than ever. Now, I serve out of love, not duty. As I love her, I also believe she holds the key to the Empire's future. Therefore, by loving her, by acting in her interests, I also serve. By killing him to aid her, I kill in the Empire's service."

Melia frowned. "Could that not also have been said when you attempted to kill her on Baras's orders? Because you supposedly believed in him and acted in his interests, by killing her, you would have killed in the Empire's service?"

"It could have."

"I don't understand."

"My service to Baras was born of necessity. I was loyal to him only out of a sense of duty, as he salvaged what was left of my military career, miserable as that was. I believed that in serving him, I could continue in some small way to serve the Empire. I never pretended that he had any regard for my interests; only my skills and how they might be useful to him. However, I also did not realize how twisted and cruel - and insane - he truly was until it was far too late. I believed I could not extricate myself, that the damage was done...that no matter what I did, as long as I remained involved, someone I loved would be killed - and likely not quickly or without enduring indescribable torture first."

"So you seriously were trying to sacrifice yourself but make it look like a murder plot?"

"In a manner of speaking. I'd accepted, though, that her death was a calculated risk, and that, perhaps, was my biggest failure of all. In that sense, I did betray her."

"How do you figure?"

"I allowed my fear of Baras to make me lose faith in her. I believed she would react to my betrayal without thought just as any other Sith would. And rather than trusting her to help find us a way out of the situation, I decided my way was best."

Skipping the glass altogether this time, Malavai swigged directly from one of the bottles.

"In other words, I treated her like less than she is. And I don't blame her if she never forgives me for that."

Not knowing how to respond, Melia stood and began clearing the mess, a little unsteadily - the two of them had made quite a dent in the supply of ale. A few moments later, the sound of Malavai giggling in his seat like a schoolgirl stopped her short.

"I do believe you are drunk, brother dear."

"No. Well, yes. But…" he snorted, "I was just remembering how it felt to watch my office blow sky-high. Can't ever let Pierce know I learned something from him after all."

"Pierce? Who?"

But Malavai was lost in another fit of laughter.

Aboard the Fury, the three remaining occupants were all beginning to feel - and behave - a bit like caged animals. Since her confrontation with Pierce, Jaesa had mostly kept to her quarters; Pierce assumed she was sulking. Broonmark had taken to stalking Too-Vee, which was amusing for a while, but Pierce was growing weary of hearing the droid's exclamations every time the Talz popped out of stealth and startled him. Pierce himself could do nothing but pace and check the comm every few minutes, paranoid that he'd missed a call from the surface. Vette had contacted him shortly after the Hand had notified Tori that they'd lost track of the third assassin, and she hadn't had to say much for Pierce to understand what that setback had done for Tori's state of mind.

Pierce was just beginning to contemplate how truly foolish it would be to ask Broonmark to spar with him when Too-Vee clattered in, a small crate in his hands.

"Master Pierce, I have completed the organization of the medbay, despite the distractions of Master Broonmark. I have here what appear to be some of Master Quinn's personal effects. As I was informed he was no longer sharing Lord Torilya's quarters, I was not sure where to place them."

"Let me see."

Too-Vee handed Pierce the box. There were only a few things inside: a very worn, old pair of gloves, what appeared to be a holoportrait unit, a wrapped parcel that felt like clothing, and two datapads. Pierce removed the datapads and handed the box back to Too-Vee.

"Find a place for that in cargo. Did you examine the datapads?"

"No, Master. Protocol would dictate that decision to be left to Lord Torilya."

Pierce merely grunted an acknowledgement.

"Do you require anything at this time, Master Pierce?"

"No. 'S all."

"Very well. I shall be in the hold." Too-Vee hesitated a moment, then spoke again. "Master Pierce, might I make a request?"

Pierce gave him a "go ahead" gesture.

"Would you perhaps ask that the Talz desist with his… exercises? They are most distracting, and my circuitry is not designed to withstand-"

"Yeah, yeah; I'll talk to him."

"Oh, thank you, Master!" Too-Vee bustled off.

Pierce flipped the datapads over in his hands. Tori had always been fairly adamant that the crew have their rights to privacy - a luxury Pierce was not accustomed to coming from the military - but he wasn't sure Quinn deserved that luxury given recent events. One of the datapads was clearly much older than the other and had something etched on the back, though the etching had become worn and faint with time and use. The other was a standard datapad of the same type that they all carried. Setting the older one aside, Pierce powered the other on. Upon examining it, he deduced that it simply held a copy of the crew's medical records, likely something Quinn carried with him when not working aboard ship. Slightly disappointed, he powered the datapad off and set it aside. Picking up the other, he powered it on, only to be met with a message requesting security credentials. Snorting in derision, he powered it back off, holding both in his hands as he resumed pacing.

Pierce was certain that the second pad likely held information that would shed light on the "incident," as he'd taken to calling it in his head, but he knew it wasn't his place to delve into it, as much as he might want to. He wasn't sure that handing them over to Tori right away was wise, either, but he didn't want to make it appear that he'd been holding out on her. Exhaling roughly, he carried the datapads into his quarters and tucked them under his mattress to deal with later. As he stepped back out into the corridor, Jaesa met him at his doorway, her face drawn, but her expression unusually calm.

"Lieutenant," she greeted him coolly. "Has Broonmark finished his work on the practice dummies?"

"Think so, yeah."

"Very well. I'll be in the hold." She walked off, training saber in hand.

Pierce shook his head in consternation, then went to resume his pacing in the lounge.

"Servant One to Servant Eleven. Come in, please."

"Eleven here."

"We have received a large encrypted file from an anonymous source, with an attached message that we believe alludes to the Wrath's mission on Corellia. We are still decrypting the data, but we have determined that the transmission originated on Balmorra. We are not certain how the sender located us, but we have our suspicions as to the sender's identity. Once we have decrypted the data and ascertained its validity, we will forward you further instructions. For now, maintain surveillance protocol."

"Understood. Shall I convey this news to the Wrath?"

"Negative. She is already treacherously on edge. We mark her movements; she is assisting the Imperial war effort. She is best occupied there until we can direct her with certainty."

"Very well. I will await instruction. Eleven out."

Servant One disconnected, then turned to Servant Two.

"What do you make of this?"

"I sense sincerity where I once sensed conflict. Determination and regret in equal measure. The latter feeds the former. We underestimated, then and now."

"Her, or him?"

"The latter feeds the former. We must tread carefully."

"Notify me when you have been able to review the data."

Servant Two inclined his head in agreement and slid back into the shadows.