Nar Shaddaa

It would be hours since their next exit from hyperspace. Moyr had already had a few Pink Lizard Thunderbolts and in this condition her tolerance for privacy was apparently diminished. Forgetting the code, she just hacked the lock to Hala's cabin and went in.

Hala was asleep in her rack, her new mechanical arm detached and resting on an induction charging plate on her desk.

Moyr suddenly found herself to be in doubt whether she wanted to wake her up. She flopped onto a chair and waited. It reminded her of a situation way back on Balmorra when she had done more or less the same, sneaking up on her sleeping. Much was different since then, but what connected that moment and this was almost continuous collaboration with Hala. She wondered what would be of their relationship now, when their long march was reaching an end of a chapter. Just as Moyr had predicted, the peace was turning out horribly for the Empire, being most likely worse in outcomes than a protracted war. And yet things were bound to change and she was unsure if there was a clear path forward for them both rather than each going their own ways.

It took a while, but Hala's eyes rolled open slowly. They scanned the room, finally finding the disturbance's source. It took another few moments for understanding to kick in and she awkwardly shuffled back into the bunk until her back rested Gainst the wall of the berth behind her so there was room for Moyr closer if she wished.

"My lord?" she said softly, closing one eye to try to force the other to focus faster.

Moyr stayed where she were for now.

"I have not even made my mind up about waking you, Hala. I am just a bit drunk. Now that I have more time to think it's all catching up with me."

She pushed herself up on one hand, the severed stump reaching for but failing to grasp the covered which pooled around her lap exposing the shift she customarily slept in.

"Should I get you some pills," she said sleepily, her eyes blinking and forcing shut before the opened again. They were still glazed, but alertness sparked and began to flicker behind them.

"To what effect? Sobriety? Unappealing at the moment." Moyr scoffed as she stretched in the chair, paying only cursory attention to Hala's manoeuvring with one prehensile limb less.But she looked to the side. "Do you want me to help you with the cyberarm?"

"Hmm?" she said, tilting her head without understanding at first.

"Oh- no thank you.... At least, not unless you need something? I've gotten used to doing things with the other one.... What is wrong with sobriety?"

She seemed to finally be waking up, because her face reflected a bit of concern.

"Where are your thoughts?"

"I am contemplating my failure." She uttered after a while. "Trying to draw lessons from it. Not just self-indulgent, comforting ones. They can itch all right if they can make a difference."

"It means that Zash is dangerous and that you, too, are vulnerable to a lone assailant. But you've also lived and you can become stronger for it..." she said, working her way to the edge of the bed. She swung her legs off the bed and gently eased her feet to the durasteel decking.

"That's the idea I've contemplated. If she believes me weak for now, she'll refocus. I just need to cover the tracks of my ascendance carefully." Moyr clicked with her tongue, trying to remove a sense of dryness from it, but eventually reached for water anyway. "Plausible deniability in apparent acceptance of mediocrity." She steepled fingers, but a wince of pain made it look less than clever.

"You know her best, so I will bow to your judgment on the matter. If I had sent an assassin after someone and that assassin failed though the target seemed weaker for it, I would simply try again. But this is a different game, and one not mine to play," she said, folding her hand in her lap.

"'Your ascendance'? You have something in mind then?"