Rene listened as he finished dressing the wound. It was a strange mirror of his own life in some ways. He had always aspired to be the ideal of his own class before his class was taken away for him. He had the freedom that Solae lacked which was an interesting irony. Close contact with her was intoxicating, the feel of her skin beneath his hands warm and alluring.

The marine was no fool, nor a wide eyed innocent. He suspected that if he wanted he could make something happen between them. Mia was right that his heart rate and body temperature were elevated around her. It wouldn’t be right though. She had he had been through a tremendous trauma and people often acted against their real natures in such disaster. It would be dishonorable to take advantage of her when she was going through so much. Besides in the morning she might well remember that she was a marquessa and he might as well be gutter sweepings. Such was the reality of the universe.

“Lets get some sleep,” he said gently, a hint of regret in his voice. Carefully he gathered up the remains of their dinner as well as the gear and the first aid kit and they headed upstairs. The stairs to the living quaters were remarkable both in their craftsmanship and thier lack of taste. The pillars were of a green and gold veined marble, each of which had been shapped into a beatuful rendition of a mythological vision. It took a tremendous amount of money to be that tasteless.

A hiss of rain on slate tiles announced the leading edge of the storm. The downpour beginning to lash the roof as the booms of thunder grew steadily closer. It was going to be a bad one tonight for which Rene was greatful. Even marines would be reluctant to patrol too aggressively in this and the Gids were likely to stick close to their billets. Training warned him not to write the Gids off as lazy and ill disciplined but there were limits to what even the best soldiers would be willing to endure.

They entered a large bedroom with a bed upon which Rene could have landed a small drop ship with an elaborate canopy supported by intricately fluted marble colums. The dressers and cupboards had been ransacked in much the same way as the rest of the house but the bed itself was untouched for a miracle. The lights dimmed as the entered and a softly sensual tune began to play. Mia evidently hadn’t given up on the notion.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Rene declared stoically.

“I can discreetly warn you if anyone approaches within twenty meters of the house Sir Rene,” Mia purred helpfully. Rene considered it. There were risks but without the stimulants marines normally carried it was unlikely he would be able to make it for any length of time, particularly as the endorphins from the shower and the meal coursed though his body.

“Alright but wake me the moment you sense someone approaching.”

The thunder obviously unnerved her; in fact, she looked and felt more on edge ascending the stairs than when she had been cornered by soldiers. With each boom her pace quickened until she almost collided with Rene in her haste to reach a room- any room- that had sufficient soundproofing to block out the noise. Solae had always found that people had some level of predictability. Whether they were sane or a victim of mental illness, whether they were narcissists or selfless like Rene evidently was, whether she found them admirable or reprehensible in their actions, there was pattern. Generally if you looked long and hard enough you could find some sort of logic to their behavior.

Storms, however, represented a great fear of Solae: a force greater than people that could not and would not be controlled. Meteorologists had become advanced enough to anticipate many storm developments but not all. Even the prime planets of the Empire still had, on occasion, a natural disaster. While they had the means to neutralize the threat, such anomalies posed they existed albeit briefly. On outlier planets such as New Concordia there were no resources to tightly control the whims of the wind and clouds. Nature was a destructive beast that could not be read and analyzed with enough precision to be conquered or controlled like people. Underestimating the wrong storm could lead to serious injury or death- and Solae had had more than enough of that lately.

"Seal the room please, Mia," Solae instructed breathlessly. She had not noticed the dimmed lights, the large bed, or the seductive music yet. Alloy metal slid out of the door frame where it had been previously invisible. There was a soft hiss of air as silicone padding also emerged and pressed itself between the door and the metallic edging. As the layers compressed it formed an air-tight seal that not only completely mitigated all sound from outside the threshold but also gave them an added layer of protection should they be discovered. Relief washed over Solae's features. Gone was the rolling cacophony of fury in the sky. Rationally she knew it still existed but right now, in this moment, she was allowed to pretend it did not. Tension eased out of her shoulders as she took a deep breath.

Solae turned to address Rene about sleeping arrangements and belatedly realized the tune playing softly over speakers. Her face flushed and words died before they managed to move her tongue. This was not a randomized selection chosen by Mia out of ignorance. Not all of Solae's time with Lord Armon had been innocent distant parley and Mia had learned from those experiences. To 'help' her guests she had started some of the favorites that she knew awakened latent desires in Solae most effectively. This caused a massive amount of discomfort in the marquise as Rene had made it clear he was disinterested and, even if he were, he was so horribly covered in bruises she could only suspect it would be incredibly painful. Not that she would impose herself on him. He had left the nobility and joined the Marines. This was a choice she assumed he did not take lightly and was indicative of a presumed desire to keep himself from the courts. A tryst with Solae would inevitably push him back into that realm unless they managed to keep a purely physical relationship.

"Mia, I appreciate the thought but I believe Sir Rene is not interested," she told the artificial intelligence system delicately. Anticipating some sort of remark on bodily functions and chemistry she avoided looking at Rene as she tossed off the covers to one side of the bed and sat down, dangling her feet over the side. "I'm sure it's in your directives to respect such decisions. I'm also certain that your scan of our vital signs indicated we could use some rest for recuperation."

There was a humming sound from Mia before the music was purposefully lowered to silence. Solae rubbed her feat, the abrasions and cuts that covered them causing a dull ache, before she lifted them onto the luxurious mattress. A second later, after pulling up the sheet and duvet to her shoulders, Solae sleepily motioned to Rene to make himself comfortable as he saw fit. "I think you're safe from further Mia commentary from now," she murmured drowsily.

New Concordia - Day 3

Rene did not so much fall asleep as collapse into unconsciousness. Disturbing dreams plucked at the edge of his pshyce. Amellia stood before him in a white courtly gown. With a gloved hand she beckoned him closer. Something in the twisted logic of dreams warned him not to approach but the same logic impelled him towards her. As he neared a red stain began to spread across her abdomen discoloring the dress with the slow but relentless spread of blotting in. Suddenly it was Solae not Amellia, their features transposing like the after image of a holograph. Solae/Amellia sagged against the unremarkable background of the dream landscape, falling into the pose that he had seen years ago in Amellia’s blood stained bedroom.

When he reached her side she was Amellia again, raven haired and sharp chinned. Lightning flashed in the dream and in its instant of illumination he saw figures standing around him. The Gid sergeant nearly decapitated by the razor wire, his two companions gunshot and dripping blood, Bowie features distorted by the blast of the tanks shell. His hand touched the dead woman. The gaping wound in her belly began to close and her features began to run in a slow transition until the dream Solae took a shuddering breath and sat up. Her hand lifted and touched his cheek.

“Wake.”

Rene sat upright in bed. He had fallen asleep fully dressed, although he supposed that even given the choice he woul have kept all but his boots on for modesty’s sake. Solae was pressed against him breathing softly. If she dreamed he hoped they were more peaceful than his own. Instinctively he brushed a lock of hair from her face. The bedroom didn’t have a chrono but Rene’s body told him it was around five in the local morning. Stand to. The hours just after dusk and just before dawn were traditionally held to be the most dangerous. The marines stood to their weapons every morning and night regardless of how unlikely attack was.

Taking care not to wake Solae he slipped out of the bed. The room was dark save for the occasional flash of lightning refracted through a deluge of tropical rain. The storm had passed into the east now and the lightning was distant, out of sink with the slight tremble of vibration which made the glass dance. Rene moved to the window and peered out over the manicured forest which surrounded the estate. It was hard to see, with only the intermittent witchlight of the distant storm and the curtain of rain.

“Mia, open the room please, seal it once I’m out, if Lady Solae wakes, reassure her that all is well and that I am nearby,” he whispered. His words were barely audible but the sophisticated AI didn’t suffer from the same limitation of hearing that humans did. A faint circle of green light on the wall beside him pulsed acknowledgment and the door open with a whisper of air and a momentary increase in the volume of rain. Rene stepped through and closed the door behind him.

There was little chance that Rene would spot anything that Mia couldn’t have detected but he made a circuit of the house regardless. It hurt to move and his body was stiff but forcing himsef to do it now meant he would be limber later. As he walked the marbe hallways his mind turned to what their next move should be. With the Embassy PEA destroyed or in enemy hands they needed to get off New Concordia and get word to the Empire of what had happened here. The Stellar Empire wasn’t perfect but it was the only alternative to anarchy. Even a small scale rebellion could, if left unchecked, inspire others until human civilization shook itself apart in feudal fragmentation that might lead to a large scale collapse like that which had destroyed the dominion of Earth. Rene had read the histories that survived as a child. The collapse of trade in the Earth Rebellions had caused catastrophic food shortages across most of the human galaxy. Nine out of ten people had starved to death as the knock on effects of a galactic economy collapsed in on themselves. Civilization had only survived on distant and relatively rich worlds like Capella and even then it had been a near thing to a new dark age. Exploratory vessels were still probing areas that had fallen out of contact during the collapse.

They had to warn someone and he didn’t see anyway to do that without getting off planet. Of course that meant sneaking of planet during the aftermath of a masterfully planned and executed coup. It meant getting to the spaceport with a highly recognizable high value target, getting her onto a ship and off planet when the entire security apparatus was set to prevent just such a predictable action.

“Mia,” he asked, pausing as a thought struck him.

“Are their any weapons in the building?” he asked. A green light lit up but, surprisingly, the AI didn’t answer immediately. Rene frowned, with the computing power even a basic AI needed to function their shouldn’t be any hesitation.

“Lord Armon’s family sword is in the private gallery Sir Rene,” Mia purred. The voice came from over his right shoulder and it felt eerie even though it as only an artefact of the nearest available transmission circuit.

“Take me there.”

The private gallery was on the top floor of the mansion. Soaring ceilings of synthetic diamond would have made the place brilliant even under starlight. The didn’t baffle sound as effectively as the rest of the house however and the rain drumming down was like a distant stampede of horses. Statuary and artwork stood around. Much of it had been knocked down or defaced with crude knife slashes. A marble statue of a woman whose beauty must have been breath taking lay on the ground in two pieces. Her eyes, breasts and genitals had been defaced with some sort of heavy hammer like objects, perhaps crowbars. The destruction of so much priceless artwork at the hands of a drunken mob saddened him despite his attempts to cultivate a cynicism appropriate to an Imperial Marine.

“Mia where is the sword?” he asked, puzzled that it hadn’t been carried away by the looters as an obvious trophy. A marble block set into the wall recessed and rotated with perfect silence dispite weighing several hundred kilograms. Behind it stood a simple looking sword on a velvet backing. It was just over a meter long with a straight blade that seemed dull gray save for a slight shimmer along the working edges. Its hilt was plain and used, some sort of darkly polished wood, perhaps terran ebony with slight silver inlays. It was plain compared to the defaced art and Rene realised that its very simplicity had saved it. The sword wasn’t pretty enough to be on display, but precious enough to warrant a place here. He reached into the case and drew the sword free with a slight click as friction hooks released it.

The weapon was Kalderi workmanship and must have been three hundred years old if it was a day. The enigmatic Kalderi were an alien race that dwelled on the eastern edge of the Stellar Empire. Most of their interactions with humans were difficult to interpret and many were shrouded in mystery. Such a weapon would have been a gift when some ancestor of Armon’s performed some service for the Kalderi or impressed them in some way. It was beyond priceless. Rene felt the impeccable balance of the weapon as he lifted it and thumbed the activation stud. The weapons silver edge grew brighter and their was a slight rhythmic thrum. Monofilament blades rotated around the edge at high frequency, the precisely aligned microblades interlocked to create a cutting edge that could pierce steel.

The air seemed to hum as the marine swept the blade through a series of exercises the master at arms had shown him as a child. It felt good and alien in approximately equa parts. Rene had the momentary urge to try to sweep it through a marble column as he had heart was possible but the idea of adding to the destruction filled him with disgust. He turned the weapon off with a flick of his thumb. Solae had mentioned Armon had off planet family, such an heirloom should be returned to them. That was assuming he or Solae survived to get off planet of course.

Unlike Rene Solae had a dreamless sleep. She had initially turned to instinctively curl into Rene's warm, protective form, but after doing so she remained completely immobile. Mia had discreetly monitored the marquise out of the closest thing to worry that artificial intelligence could feel (a programmed priority for the health of guests, which superseded all other directives). Solae did not toss and turn, did not murmur, and did not move her eyes beneath closed lids to indicate that her slumbering mind was envisioning worlds for her to adventure in as a phantom of herself. While her blood pressure had dipped, and both her heartbeat and breathing rhythm were slower than Mia knew to be normal, there was no actual medical distress. Logic dictated this was not worthy of Rene's attention.

When Solae woke it had been a full two hours and almost a quarter past when Rene had departed the bed. Groggy and disoriented she sat up as she ran a hand through her tangled hair. The surroundings did not immediately jog her memory. Rene had selected one of the guest bedrooms, not Lord Armon's master, and the decor was slightly foreign as a result. With the relationship broken several months prior it was even more distantly familiar than if the rebellion had been in the six months preceding. Recollections of the destruction of the Imperial Embassy crept back slowly as she briefly relived the experiences.

"Rene?" she breathed. Solae felt dizzy but not enough to merit lingering even longer in bed. Undoubtedly this languid awakening to reality had been a result of the black hole she had fallen into mentally while she slept. She winced as her feet and knees brushed against silken sheets; she had blissfully forgotten her injuries as she slept. Touching her forehead she felt a sturdy bandage where Rene had sutured a split in her forehead.

"Good morning, Miss Solae. Sir Rene has asked me to reassure you all is well and that he is nearby," she purred.

"What time is it?" Solae inquired further as she slid to the edge of the bed, brushed her feet on the floor, and inhaled sharply as pressure on the healing abrasions protested. It was a margin improved from yesterday but it would take at least another day or two before she could walk without any pain or discomfort.

"It is approximately 7:13:52 AM, Lady Solae," Mia responded. Solae had never seen the point in knowing not just the hour and minutes but the seconds as well. It was not an argument she was going to have with a synthetic existence shortly after crawling out of bed. The fact that her life was still in danger (even more than Rene's) was blossoming and increasing her heart rate dramatically. Yesterday they had allowed themselves a respite but a new day brought new threats. As the individual that was the greater risk she felt to take on a proportional amount of responsibility to determine a solution to their troubles.

"Mia, you are programmed to accept all transmissions, even if the estate is vacant, are you not?" she asked as she rubbed her eyes. Quite some time aago certain lords and ladies had tried to exempt themselves from receiving transmissions of the capital. This had resulted in their ignorance to a rebellion, three natural disasters (two earthquakes and one flood), and a terrorist faction on outlying planets. As a result all home systems created thereafter were required to collect transmissions constantly even if their owners were absent; it gave the Stellar Empire a method to assure their broadcasts were received and reduced the amount of 'proud death' suffered by the elite.

"Yes," Mia replied quickly without her characteristic purr.

"Have there been reports of my parents' deaths on any of the frequencies?" Solae ventured cautiously.

"I regret to inform you that Marquess Alyosha Falia and Marquise Selene Falia have both been reported deceased. In recent broadcasts you are referred to as Marquise Solae Falia accordingly. I assure you that while they are requesting that you immediately surrender or be captured, I have taken measures you ensure your concealment while you remain in the walls this domicile."

"Explain the details of my 'bounty' and what measures you are taking," she demanded as she felt her stomach lurch. The stress, the dull aches of her body (for she did not have Rene's stamina for running), the toll of seeing life drain out of people, the missed meals, and the knowledge of her parent's status made her pull off the shirt and shorts she was wearing. Without quick steps she started towards the bathroom but only made it halfway before Mia began her sultry purr.

"Marquise Solae Falia is to be retained and delivered immediately to the battalion located at in the Justice Center in Armistice. Should Marquise Solae Falia be delivered in good health, the delivering party will receive title, a sum to be disclosed, and will offered the marquise's hand in marriage or, if preferred, her hand in marriage to a male relative of their choosing, who upon consummation of the union will be titled Marquess accordingly." Solae scrambled the last few inches to the toilet before vomiting into its aureate splendor. Never had she been so offended by a pretentious porcelain throne as she was this one; it's shining color seemed to mock her situation caused by similar extreme wealth. She was arguably wretching into a symbol of her fatal flaw.

"I have discovered a Crisis Location Transmission Implant in your thigh," Mia continued apparently undeterred by Solae's unsightly reaction to the prior news. "As of three hours, five minutes, and twenty-one seconds ago, a location in Armistice has been attempting to send a beacon to your CLTI, but I have been shielding such from their attention." CLTIs were used to monitor the upper echelon of nobility not out of fear of bad conduct, but because they could be kidnapped and ransomed for enough currency to let a man live a life of opulence thereafter. To curb the success of this criminal activity many had CLTIs inserted as in various parts of the body (a uniform point in the anatomy made it too easy for said criminals to find and extract them). Solae had forgotten about her own until this very moment. Until a beacon was sent out the CLTI was completely dormant so there had been no chance of discovery yesterday- but she couldn't leave Lord Armon's house without having Rene help her remove it.

"Sir Rene, Lady Solae appears to be in minor medical distress," Mia reported to the soldier factually.

Rene was simmering eggs on a pan when Mia called him. The eggs were as large as apples and had a slightly bluish hue, he had no idea what they were, not Terran chickens certainly. Life had not provided him with much opportunity for culinary training, beyond how to make a ration pack marginally less disgusting but he at least had the presence of mind to cut the heat to the pan before he bolted for the bedroom.

He flew up the stairs two at a time, the stolen pistol in his hand and the sword hooked through his belt. What ‘minor medical distress’ meant to an AI was an open question and he would rather not find out that Mia had underestimated the problem. Plenty of minor problems could be fatal when their margin of survival was already so low. Blood infection or hemorrhagic fever were ‘minor’ issues if you could afford to spend a few days in hospital after all. Besides, if he were honest, the dreams had left him jumpy. Part of his mind expected to find Solae dead on the velvet soft colors just as he had found Amellia.

The door to the bedroom slid open before him as Mia unknowingly rebuked him for his worry. The sound of retching came from the ensuite bathroom and he slowed his sprint to a walk. The door was open so he cautiously stepped inside. Solae was on her knees attempting to vomit, though clearly all she could do at this point was bring up bile. The bathroom itself was tiled in an expensive herringbone of some sort of natural wood, while the toilet itself was a shifting nacreous think, like an opal but less pleasing to the eye.
He wrapped a knuckle on the door jam politely, although there was no possibility she hadn’t heard the thundering of combat boots or the clatter of equipment as he raced through the house.

“Solae? I’m sorry… I mean are you alright?”

"Don't worry, I'm not pregnant," Solae joked lamely to hide her emotional fatigue, her sorrow, and her overwhelming guilt at the situation she could not help but feel she was twice as responsible for as he was. Had she just died (and it would have been easy to do so) then Rene would have had much better chances of escaping and there would not be worlds of people at risk. The violence of her gag reflex made her lightheaded but soldiered through- the irony of the concept was not lost on her.

"I'm practicing my seduction techniques. What do you think?" she continued to jest. As soon as she had felt the rising bile she had cast of Lord Armon's shirt (which had dwarfed her smaller frame anyway) and supposedly incredibly clean exercise shorts. As she slid down to sit on the hard tile floor he could visually affirm she was only wearing undergarments. Solae might have shrieked about her decency and covered herself in embarrassment but she grew tired just thinking of the effort. Rene had almost certainly seen women with even less. If anything surprised him it was that she wore a designer brand tailored to fit only the genetically enhanced bodies of the elite and priced for the exceedingly wealthy as a result.

After a moment she pulled her long legs up to her chest, burrowing her head between the still heavily damaged knees. They were less raw than yesterday but their temporarily disfigured appearance failed to bring Solae any comfort- it just reminded her of everything she couldn't escape. "Mia, tell him what you told me," she instructed softly.

Mia, oblivious willfully or by design, proceeded to verbatim repeat her end of the exchange. With an inappropriate purr in words, and a dangling accent in others, she recited how Solae's parents were confirmed deceased, how Solae was being offered up as a prize to whomever turned her in, and how they had a CLTI located in her thigh that was being shielded. The marquise was fairly confident that Rene would understand her distress even if he could not fully empathize. The CLTI posed a problem for both of them. If she attempted to leave Lord Armon's estate without removing it the rebellion's search would be short and successful. As much as Solae didn't relish the thought of cutting into her skin it was infinitely better than the alternatives.

"I do have some sedatives in storage that Lord Armon's guests used on occasion to assist in falling asleep and engaging in unconventional acts of copulation," Mia offered. Solae laughed despite herself at the absurdity of it all and being trapped in the house of a narcissistic deviant. It was a good thing that Rene was no longer a noble himself; it was a breach of etiquette to laugh openly at the exposure of another, even deceased.

Rene sat down on the floor and pulled Solae to his chest feeling the waves of heat and chill pulse through her scantily clad body as the shock of the news continued to surge within her. Nearly naked she looked like a goddess, her figure more than mere biology could have endowed. Gently he stroked her hair and hugged her to him providing what comfort he could.

“Well as a seduction technique it certainly has the element of surprise. I’m told that is important,” he joked trying to lighten the sombre mood. Truthfully the sight of her was making his blood run hot.

Rene felt his anger rise as Mia recounted the news. The sultry inflections of her voice banked his rage to a hot fire, though intellectually he knew that the AI had no other choice. His skin began to prickle unspent adrenaline and he ached to lash out at something. The reward for Solae’s capture was perfectly calculated to appeal to everyone from the crudest peasant to the most powerful noble. Appealing to sex, pride and wealth covered a fairly broad swath of the human universes priorities. He could attest to that himself as his body reminded him that he was clutching the nearly naked marquesa against him.

“We will figure it out,” he told her promising to himself that somehow he would get her out of this, whatever it cost.

The CLTI presented a problem he hadn’t foreseen. Rene himself had once had such a transmitter but the Marine Corp surgeons had removed it when he enlisted. Such a device presented an obvious risk for soldiers in the field. He decided he didn’t much care to know quite what ‘unconventional acts of copulation’ might entail and was just as glad not to have met Lord Armon. If the portrait of the man the house painted was in any way accurate it was unlikely they would have gotten along. Well Armon would doubtlessly have sneered at a lowly soldier so perhaps the feeling would have been mutual.

“I’m not a medic,” Rene began. When he had finished basic he had applied for every specialty from vacuum commando to electronic warfare operator. Despite his excellent scores both physical and intellectual every request had been rejected. Normally a recruit with Rene’s education and aptitudes would have been shifted to officer training but the political poison of his background meant that no one wanted to give him an opportunity where he could win fame and renown. A popular and successful officer with his background might become a threat, perhaps not unlike that which was convulsing New Concordia. Accordingly he had remained in the regular infantry and been posted to a galactic backwater besides.

“Mia does the manor have scanning gear of some sort?” he asked the AI.

“Lord Armon has a full body imager used for creating sculptures Sir Rene, I judge it will serve to precisely locate the CLTI, though I strongly suggest such an operation only be attempted by qualified medical professionals.” Rene wondered if Armon had a basement full of life sized sculptures of his various conquests but decided not to ask for clarification.

“Your suggestion is noted,” he replied dryly. For a moment he considered going into the city by himself and hiring or abducting a doctor for the job. It wasn’t likely that anyone was looking for him specifically, although the port databases would have copies of his biometrics which might have been distributed. Ultimately he decided he was unwilling to leave Solae alone in the manor or to let any stranger know of her whereabouts.

“We will take care of it Solae,” he told the girl in his arms, “I promise we will take care of all of it.”

On some level Solae understood that Rene, desperately as he might try to reassure her, had no more answers than she had. Closing her eyes she tried to let his well-intentioned gestures soothe the waves of desperation that were rolling over her. The way he stroked her hair and pressed her to his chest unabashedly provided comfort but also distraction as well. Without looking at his torso to remind herself visually it was covered in horrible bruises it was relatively easy to imagine he uninjured. Solae felt that if she only focused on the rise and fall of his abdomen with each inhale and exhale she could have pretended that none of it happened. The marquise could have dreamed that this was an intimate moment between engaged lovers, not between emotionally damaged strangers, that the Imperial Embassy was still a bastion of bureaucracy, that her mother was still waxing poetic about appropriate suitors, that Marlene was proudly displaying her latest purchase, that Lord Armon was still sending her suggestive overtures as if she wasn't aware he craved her title more than her personality. Allowing herself to believe the lie, however brief, would have been catastrophic. Momentarily bliss would have been an escape that could not last; instead Solae had to force herself to cope.

"I'll do it," she half-whispered. Mia didn't realize what she was asserting or Solae was certain she would object. Chances were Rene was likewise confused by the statement and so after a touch of hesitation she sought to clarify. "I'll remove it myself. All I need to do is scan myself and then... well, I'm not a medical professional but there aren't other options. We have an emergency kit to provide topical anesthetic and clean up after the fact." As brave as the highborne noblewoman sounded there was no mistaking this for a perfectly safe procedure. Cutting down into her thigh was unlikely to be lethal but it would not be without at least temporary muscle weakness and limited mobility while she extracted the tiny implant.

"I strongly suggest that you do not attempt to retrieve the CLTI yourself, Lady Solae," Mia chastised but in a tone that sounded more like a dominatrix scolding her subordinate partner than an actually disapproving computerized entity.

"Your objection is noted Mia, but we don't have anyone qualified to diagnosis the common cold, much less take a knife to me. It's a risk I'm willing to take," she countered smoothly, "I'm not discussing an amputation. I could have been hurt worse by the shrapnel at the embassy than what I'm suggesting." Solae was much more worried about Rene's assumed protest because, unlike Mia, he could try to physically prevent her from taking action. No matter how battered he was he had the upper hand in strength, endurance, and almost certainly speed.

"If we can get the CLTI out," she mused aloud as her mind churned forward in a pragmatic fashion, "and get farther from Armistice, I speak Syshi." The Syshin were an intelligent bipedal alien race that had been subjugated by humans (allegedly) centuries ago. Their inability to cross-breed with humanity had relegated them to second-class citizens used for tasks delegated by the empire that even peasants were less than willing to do. People gave them a wide berth in person, avoided their communities like the plague, and would learn every language but their native tongue, but benefited from the fruit of the Syshin's labor nonetheless. Solae had learned Syshi because she wanted to comprehensively speak all the languages that were utilized nearby regardless of cultural emphases of their importance. There had been only two encounters she was required to interact with any Syshin and only one had been in person- that was with a representative of a village on the outskirts of Armistice regarding a crime with a Syshin suspect.

As untouchable as the Syshin were to farmers and elites alike, as downtrodden as their existences were, they respected anyone who took the time to learn Syshi. Even with a well-coordinated rebellion the Syshin were almost certainly not valued by the coup's leaders. Likewise the Syshin would care little about the massacre or politics; they did not have strong allies in the local government, they were not targets for the reaping, and their status would not improve with new 'ownership.' If Solae could communicate with them and offer them anything- even the spoils of Armon's house- they might be willing to hide the couple and locate a ship for them.

"The Syshin! If we can find them I think I could persuade them to...," she started. She had retreated back from his grasp far enough to take his face in both her hands with unthinking excitement. As she realized what her movement looked like she stopped, listening to the rushing blood in her veins and the acceleration of her heartbeat. Impulsively she leaned forward, still holding his cheeks with her palms and the tips of her fingers brushing against his hairline, and kissed him passionately. It had been the heat of the moment action without any forethought. Just as suddenly as the desire had filled her she was acutely aware of what an inappropriate imposition made on him. The marquise had made it difficult- if not impossible- for the soldier to reject her rash actions with delicacy.

"I'll... go take those scans now," she mumbled, not sure if apologizing would dig herself deeper into the proverbial hole she had manifested. As if on cue Mia decided it was the appropriate time to fill the small room with the aroma of tropical flowers, play the music from the evening prior, and dim the lights. Solae stumbled to her feet, fighting for her sense of balance as her senses were overwhelmed by Mia's involvement. The heiress struggled to focus on the CLTI and the pressing need for its removal. This was no time to be trying to take advantage of Rene.

Trailus Major - Day Three
The Shara Rae exploded silently at the dock. The sleek battleship’s four fusion reactors went super critical within milliseconds of one another, bulging the vessels midsection into a tetramer of white spheres each as brilliant as the birth of a new star. The thousand kiloton explosions converted three quarters of the vessel length into a cloud of debris and gaseous metal driven before the quad shockwaves like the bow wake of an unimaginable storm. The space dock to which the ship was dock cracked like an egg, its own internal oxygen and anything less combustible than silicon blazed in an inferno which was no more than a coda to the Shara Rae’s death song. The battleships foredeck and thruster nozzles were tossed from the explosion like children's toys, careening into the darkness of space. More worrying, the debris of the station began to fall towards the bright blue world below as the blast shoved the wreckage planetward from its geosynchronous orbit in slow arcs which began to blaze with friction heat almost immediately.

Duke Alexis Tan, Emperor Alexis the first as he now styled himself, paused the holographic recording with a curt gesture and scowled at the knot of advisors which surrounded him.

“How in the Void did this happen?!” he snapped, his face slightly florid with suppressed rage. He had been a handsome man in his youth but the excesses of middle age and an indifference to even the moderate exercise required by vanity gave him a slightly florid look. His eyes were agate hard and held an animal cunning which supplemented his substantial intellect. Alexis was dressed soberly in a dark gray on black suit with a formal sash of expensive golden silk slashing diagonally from shoulder to hip. The courtiers to whom he addressed the questions showed no such restraint. Each man or woman was bedecked in the most expensive and often most gaudy outfit they possessed.

The crowd rolled back like a tide before their leaders anger, leaving a single woman, dressed in neatly cut military fatigues with a modest array of medals displayed on the breast of the field green tunic. She was dressed up for the occasion but no one would begrudge that general, formerly colonel, Bhast was a real veteran. She showed neither fear nor contrition but instead stepped boldly forward.

“The operation went of a scheduled,” she replied in a tone with the crispness of Capella or one of the core worlds of the Empire. She made a gesture at the holoprojector and the scene shifted to uniformed men and women rushing through the hatches of the Shara Rae, weapons flashing silently as the rebels attempted to seize the ship. The display showed an impressive amount of preparation and technical expertise despite its casual appearance.

“We took Captain Gwindon and her officer into custody aboard the station, to secure her genetic code as instructed,” the general went on. Alexis arched a dangerous eyebrow at what was in essence a defence of failure from an underling.

“Then who set the self destruct?” the usuper demanded, pacing back and forth angrily as he spoke. Bhast made another gesture and a small red headed woman with a dusting of freckles across her nose appeared beside a service record for an Imperial Navy Engineering Lieutenant.

“As best we can tell there was no formal self destruct. One of the engineering officers, Kya Chobral, sealed the engineering deck the moment we fired. It would seem she opted to scuttle the Shara Rae rather than let her be taken,” the general explained in her calm precise voice. Chobral’s action had been instant, resolute, utterly fearless and had resulted in the deaths of nearly a thousand people including the captain and entire complement of the Shara Rae. Her name would live on in the Navy’s pantheon of heroes.

What Cobral wouldn’t have appreciated was what a blow she had dealt to the Dukes Rebellion. The death of Lysyndra Gwindon meant that the rebels were without a highborn noble who could activate the PEA system, a far greater blow than the loss of a ship, even one as impressive as the Shara Rae had been. The plan had unfolded like clockwork, the conspirators striking simultaneous across dozens of systems. The Imperial yoke in the Eastern Cross was light and the attacks had been savage and overwhelming. The embassies had been primary targets both because they boasted PEA’s and because they were centers of intelligence collection and distribution. It would have been possible to capture the buildings intact, but not before spies in the embassy beamed warnings to their masters. Unfortunately the same ruthless efficiency which had carried the coup to victory had denied them any chance to capture other candidates with the right genetic codes. Gwindor, a scion of high nobility as well as a naval captain, was to have been their key to the communications system.

“So now we are blind and dumb general! We cannot expect to conduct an interstellar war without instantaneous communications!”

Bhast nodded her head though her stance suggested she wasn’t conceding the point.

“We can mitigate that to some degree by using jump ships,” she began, continuing to speak despite an angry glare from her sovereign.

“But I have some better news. I received word from New Concordia that one of the diplomats there escaped the initial purge. The Prefect there has already began the search and should have her in custody shortly.” Alexis ceased pacing at this news, his expression brightening marginally at the prospect of an unexpected solution.

“Who is this noble?” he demanded. Bhast nodded her head and made a third gesture. A holographic picture of a beautiful golden haired woman sprang up in place of the sterile naval personnel record.

“Let me tell you about Solae Falia….”

Rene returned Solae's kiss without thinking. His mind was taken aback but his attraction to her was undeniable to his body. After a moment of shocked silence she broke away, leaving him with the dizzying memory of her lips on his own. She mumbled something about scans and stumbled from the room. His eyes followed the rhythmic motion of her hips as his mouth tried for form words that wouldn't come. The door swung shut behind him and he was left sitting on the floor being serenaded by a machine. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say to the beautiful marquessa but the moment had passed. A guilty corner of his mind reminded him that the most likely reason was that she was reacting to the stress of the situation. He was too he supposed, though he doubted if any of his former comrades were here they would have wasted time worrying about it.

Unsteadily he came to his feet, awkwardly thrusting the sword down in his belt so it rode more comfortably below his bruised hip. He felt alot better for some reason. Perhaps it was the fact that they had a plan now, a plan that sounded marginally more plausible than assaulting or infiltrating the most heavily armed facillity on the planet. The Syshin were an enigma to him, something he had heard of but never personally experienced. If they had villages outside of the general area of Armistice there was bound to be a certain amount of smuggling taking place, perhaps they could find a freighter that would take them off New Concordia afterall. And then again maybe it had nothing to do with plans and he was just enchanted with the vision of Solae in her undergarments.

He had reservations about Solae attempting the removal of the tracker on her own but it was her decision to make, he couldn't blame her if he didn't want him cutting into her. Resolving to make himself useful he headed down to the kitchen and began to gather what supplies they would need.

New Concordia- Outskirts of Armistice near Syshin encampment "Amber Horizon"

"These fuckers must be delusional if they think every goddamn resident is going to roll over and give up their goods," chuffed Min Ho 'Demeter' Park. He nudged a corpse with his boot, checking to make certain the Gid wasn't only feigning death, before kicking it off the stone path leading up to his residence. Min Ho frowned. Blood had pooled under the body and left a deep red stain that he knew had soaked into his aesthetically pleasing yet simple design for the passageway to his front door. "Son of a..."

"For what it's worth I think they got the message," Oanh Park replied. They were communicating through old-fashioned earpieces on a frequency experience taught them was never used. Having outdated equipment was a faux pas by the standards of nobility but neither of the Parks were born into prestige. Practical and paranoid the couple had made their humble abode, which looked firmly middle-class and quaint but unremarkable, into a veritable fortress. A rebellion had not been something they had anticipated but they were nonetheless prepared. Looters had targeted the Parks simply because it looked like an easy target but had been gunned down before they made it to the front steps.

"That's what you said yesterday," Min Ho quietly fumed. He wasn't angry with his wife; she hadn't done anything to raise his ire. If he squinted the tip of her rifle from where he stood. She was laying flat on their angled roofing armed with a beast of a weapon almost as large as she was. Her precision with it belied extensive sharpshooting training.

"We should bury the corpses before lunch," Oanh instructed. Clearly she was not volunteering for the heavy lifting. "Solae Falia survived the attack on the Imperial Embassy apparently," she added casually as she stood up from her position. "There's a bounty on her head."

"Of course there is. What are you suggesting, Oanh?" Even before he asked he knew what she'd say. Min Ho walked towards a female corpse at the edge of his property and hauled her up on his shoulder with a grunt. Burying the bodies was not so much a sign of respect as it was an attempt to not encourage acts of vengeance. If no one knew where their precious Gid friend was they wouldn't bother the Parks.

"I'm suggesting that your retirement is fucked," Oanh said as she dropped onto their balcony and opened the door to go inside. "But it's still your retirement, fucked or not. I'll let you know when lunch is ready."

Min Ho Park was living on New Concordia under the alias Hyun Tae Young. No one still living on the planet was aware of his past. As a young man and for most of his adult life he had a very successful career as a covert agent for the Stellar Empire; in short he was a government-endorsed assassin. Officially there were denials that there was any branch of the military that would kill without provocation or a declaration of war but that was not the truth. As was standard procedure he was allowed to retire to any non-central planet, preferably one without former comrades, given an alias and fabricated history, and left to pasture. Min Ho had enjoyed gardening and studying ancient history in relative peace. Only current military with the highest clearance could find his actual personnel records and even then because he was officially retired he had to do fuck all to help the Stellar Empire. He had paid his dues. As long as he wasn't aiding and abetting the enemy they could not lob wild accusations at him once this whole thing blew over.

"How old is she?" Min Ho asked as he chucked the dead woman into a ditch before ambling towards the man that had stained his stone walkway.

"Young enough to be your daughter," Oanh replied.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Min Ho swore. When night fell he was going to have to dig through his armory (which was almost as large as the first floor of their home but kept in the basement for security reasons) and find his old camouflage suit. He might be past his prime by a few decades but he still had a conscience, especially for people that were put into shitty circumstances completely beyond his control. Maybe if he found and helped this Solae Falia they'd let him move somewhere without a power-hungry duke.

"Sir Rene," Mia started as she monitored one of her charges gathering supplies in the kitchen. "It is in my programming to notify you of the inherent risks of encouraging Lady Solae to take on this task herself. I estimate her natural physiological reaction is likely to affect her precision, which could result in complications in the procedure." After a moment's pause the artificial intelligence displayed generalized anatomical scans with notations; one appeared to be a basic reading of Solae approximately one year ago while the other was current. The logic behind showing the two in juxtaposition was to establish a baseline as well as an immediately applicable reading.

Fortunately, Solae was several rooms away and could not be embarrassed by the slight invasion of privacy albeit required. Most of the differences were fairly innocuous: a faster pulse, quickened breathing rhythm, and rough estimates of blood pressure that was risen above normal but was lowering quickly in real time. "Your presence appears to incite symptoms of anxiety and sexual attraction; however, my cost and benefit analysis indicates having you perform the incision and extraction exposes less risk. My records indicate your military training makes you less likely to hesitate with sharp implements and their application. You will also be able to react more quickly and are less likely to have an adverse reaction to the sight of exposed tissue."

It was a compelling argument especially since Mia's only motivation was a design that required every attempt to made to appeal to the best preservation of humans within her domain (unless hostile to those that she recognized as owners and/or guests).

---

Solae tried not to think about the full body imager's true intentions as she stepped inside the tube-shaped apparatus. At her instruction Mia turned it on, lighting the entire interior in an almost pleasant glow. She could not see whatever mechanisms did the actual measurements as they were hidden beneath a matte chrome finish. Each curvature was being visually recorded, formatted, and reconstructed in an perfect replica holographic rendition. The process took what felt like an eternity but was only a few minutes. Solae quickly discovered the reason for this was the processing required to be able to replicate each strand of hair and crease in her skin was significant.

"So where is it?" Solae asked Mia as she stepped outside. Her own lifeless holograph was rotating in front of her as Mia examined the model thoroughly.

"The location of the CLTI is in your left thigh," Mia purred as a small blinking blue light inserted itself in the hologram. A measurement sprang to life showing the depth of the implant was 1.64" inches from the surface of her skin. Solae was grateful it was not buried deeper. The position would require more flexibility than she anticipated, however, as it was halfway between her pelvis and knee but not perfectly on her side. The passage of time had allowed the CLTI to migrate slightly to the rear of the leg, which was a place she felt comfortable glancing at but not controlling with the applied pressure of a blade.

"I would like to revisit my suggestion of requesting Sir Rene extract the CLTI," Mia added.

"Don't you think that would be a bit much to ask of him?" she said but then realized she was asking a subjective opinion of an unfeeling synthetic organism. It could theoretically anticipate and approximate emotional reactions but feelings were outside of Mia's personal reach. Cold logic could not and would not understand the point she was trying to make. "Nevermind. I'm clearly going insane," she said more to herself than Mia. Talking to Mia itself was a sign her mental faculties must be slipping.

"I do not detect any indications of mental illness," Mia quipped as Solae retreated back to the guest bathroom where she would have the most sterile environment for her 'operation.' There didn't seem to be a point in dressing since she'd have to disrobe if she was extracting the CLTI immediately- and it seemed prudent to not eat until she had.

"Thank you, Mia. It was an expression, not a self-diagnosis."

“1.6 inches?” Rene asked, pausing in his self appointed task of packing supplies into the portable case that the medical kit had come with. The canvas satchel was designed for emergencies and thus portable. Rene had discarded anything he didn’t think was likely to be necessary. Mostly an excess of bandages and diagnostic equipment. He made space for things he judged might be valuable as trade goods, mostly drugs and medications. It was an unfortunate irony that while the manor was priceless, most of the portable wealth had been carried away.

“1.64 inches,” Mia corrected her seductive purr making it sound like a revelation of startling sensual importance. When Solae had spoken of removing the CLTI he had assumed that it was immediately below the skin. He was willing to credit that Solae was a determined woman, the fact that she had survived this long was testament to that, but the odds of her successfully removing such a thing without being in agonizing pain…

He set the pack down and followed Mia’s helpfully provided guidance. The AI had a trick of altering patterns in the light that allowed her to guide people subtly and Rene found that he was hardly aware the computer was directing him. The scanning room was in a lower section of the house. The room was unusually tasteful from what Rene had seen, an unpleasant juxtaposition with the tube like body scanner Solae was emerging from. There was a subtle psychological manipulation at play, archaic tools, wholely inappropriate for the modern artists were staged in various places. Rene wondered how many centruies it had been since a scuptor had used a hammer and chisel rather than a lazer abrasion unit. The intent of the display was clear, this is art, don’t worry.

“Rene?” Solae said with a slight hint of uncertainty. She was still dressed in her undergarments and he tried to control the surge of lust it woke in him. Exhibits signs of sexual attraction Mia had said. With a firm reminder of how inappropriate it would be to take advantage of her given the emotional situation he stepped into the room.

“Our host,” he began, raising his eyes to indicate Mia even though the AI was no more above him than she was beside him.

“Has convinced me that it would be safer if helped take out the tracker,” he told her. Solae looked ready to object but he crossed the room and put his arms around her, effortlessly lifting her onto one of the benches that ringed most of the room. Her body was warm and pleasant in his arms.

“These are for you,” he told her, extending his hand to reval two small blue pills.

“It is inadvisable to ingest the medication directly Lady Solae,” Mia chimed in, “dissolution in water is recommend.” Rene had another queasy feeling regarding this Lord and his manor but there was nothing to do about it now. He looked around the room and found a small beaker containing a number of ornamental paintbrushes which he poured onto the bench before filling it from one of the discrete water spigots. The blue pills fizzed slightly when he dropped them in but they dissolved quickly and colourlessly into the fluid.

“Mia your sure this is safe?” he asked as he handed the beaker to Solae.

“Safe for a partially skilled surgeon to perform a surgical procedure without proper medical facilities?” the computer asked archly. Was that a joke?

“No I mean the drugs,” Rene replied with a touch of asperity.

“Lord Armon gave such a dose to over a dozen women within one standard deviation of Lady Falia’s body mass,” Mia confirmed.

“Well, bottoms up,” he suggested.

Rene wasn’t sure what he had expected but Solae lost consciousness within less than a minute of drinking the concoction. She blinked her eyes once, then closed them, then slumped sideways. He checked her breathing and then lay her unyielding form flat upon the table top.

There was a scalpel in the pouch of first aid supplies, a single use kind that wasn’t too familiar from the combat first aid courses. He pulled the activator tab and the blade heated up as chemicals coating its blade catalyzed in auto sterilization. Mia helpfully projected a laser dot onto the spot in which the scan had located the device. He cracked a chorohexaidne applicator stick and began to scrub being sure to give the antiseptic a full minute to dry.

“Are you ready to begin Sir Rene?” Mia prompted as he hesitated with the blade above her thigh. The computer couldn’t understand the human reluctance to cut into another person. The marines used lifelike simulations both for close quaters combat and battlefield medicine but the difference was vaster by far than he had expected. He looked down at Solae’s supine form, beautiful and nearly naked.

“I feel like I’m about to vandalize a work of art,” he muttered, delaying the cut by another few seconds.

“I’m sure Lady Falia will be very happy to hear that you said that,” Mia responded with the sultry hint of a laugh. Rene drew a deep breath and felt the top of Solae’s thigh with gloved fingers, making sure he didn’t feel the thrum of an artery beneath the skin. Before he could find another reason to delay he drew the scalpel blade down in a short firm cut. The flesh parted easily beneath the razor sharp blade and blood welled up as he sliced through the cappilaries. Without surgical suction it was impossible to keep the cut from filling with blood so he merely watched the laser dot refract in the blood for a moment before cutting deeper into the incision. Fortunately for Rene, the chip lay at a slight crossways angle to the bundled muscle fibre and with his second cut he felt the blade click against the small ceramic casing. Blood was flowing down over the curve of Solae’s thigh and staining the table and her undergarments. He probably should have thought of that but he doubted performing the operation with her naked would have improved his feelings about the situation. Pulling a handful of gauze from the first aid pouch he swabbed the blood away as best he could, catching a glimpse of the ceramic chip. It was about the size of a grain of rice and his cut had exposed one end of it. He reached in with a pair of forceps and grasped the end of it. The blood slicked ceramic was slippery and it took him three attempts to pull it free. Solae’s chest continued to rise and fall in slow shallow breaths as he sprayed the cut with disinfectant, topical anesthetic and a healing factor which would promote the natural healing processes of her body. Finally he produced the same stapler he had used to close the cut on her head and closed the inch long incision with six precisely placed sutures before applying another coating of antiseptic and a surgical covering which adhered to her skin, a slightly darker shade than her natural skin.

“Well done Sir,” Mia complimented him as he sagged back against the wall in exhausted relief.

“Perhaps you missed your calling as a physician.” Rene laughed bitterly.

“Thanks but I have already had more careers than I figured I would need,” he told the AI. Reaching down he scooped up Solae and carried her, carefully, to the bedroom. He didn’t know how long the drugs would keep her out, but he didn’t want her to awaken on a cold stone bench covered in blood.

Because the sedative metabolized quickly to take effect nearly instantly, it also passed through the system at a quick pace. It was slightly less than an hour when Solae woke up in the bedroom. A dull, throbbing pain in her thigh told her that the operation had been successful and she no longer bore an implant that effectively tagged her like a lost pet. After staring at the ceiling mindlessly for a few minutes she rolled onto her right (the unaffected leg) and then pulled herself to a sitting position. Covers slid off her torso and she belatedly realized that Rene must have tucked her in. Solae wasn't certain if he was naturally nurturing, preserving what shred of modesty she had, or worried about her becoming cold in repose. Perhaps he had been motivated by all three reasons.

"You will be pleased to know Sir Rene extracted the CLTI with no complications or excessive bleeding," Mia announced.

"Thank you, Mia," Solae responded genuinely. Even if it was part of Mia's programming she was grateful for the guidance that was undoubtedly provided to Rene. As he had stated earlier he was no medic; without Mia the procedure would have been impossible. Neither one of them would have agreed to digging around a limb looking for a minuscule implant. Even a trained medical practitioner would have been unwilling to take the risk flying blind.

Solae had swung her feet over the side of the bed when she noticed her underwear was stained. She had paused to ponder if it was worth trying to clean or if she should try to create boxers (as uncomfortable as it might be) for a lower undergarment when Mia spoke up again with a sultry urgency. "Lady Solae, is there something I can do for you? It is in your best interest not to rush to be ambulatory."

"I need to thank Rene," Solae insisted as she slipped off her underwear and fished up Lord Armon's exercise shorts that she had been wearing before. It was a less than flattering swap but she was not ready to prance down the stairs naked. "Do you think you can wash these? The blood hasn't soaked in for long I assume... or have I been out for a while?"

"I can try to assist, but it will take some time as I will need to soak them in various cleaning agents. Please place them on the bedside table," Mia instructed. Solae nodded (which was silly considering Mia didn't need visual responses) before depositing the soiled clothing on the nightstand. The polished surface retreated back into a hole in the wall that had appeared not a moment before and she heard the whirling of machinery beyond the visible plaster. "Would you like me to summon Sir Rene for you? I am certain he will be relieved you are awake."

Biting the inside of her cheek for a moment Solae considered her options. Were she to walk to Rene, which she hardly considered a dangerous excursion, Mia would not only tell her in excruciating detail why she should lay down with increasing insistence, she would also inevitably alarm Rene. The poor soldier did not need any further scares considering all he had done and endured in the last couple days. Solae pulled her feet back up on the mattress and reclined if only to prevent panic and distress for her solitary human companion.

"Can you broadcast me to Rene, Mia? No visual please."

"Affirmative. I will begin the broadcast now," Mia purred. If Solae didn't know better she would think the artificial sentience was pleased with herself for keeping her charge in bed.

"Mia had told me I ought to stay in bed," Solae began, eyeing a circular blue hologram that had appeared in front of her face. It was the only indication that her voice was traveling elsewhere in the manor as requested. "But I wanted to thank you for everything you've done. You saved my life when you took down those soldiers, you helped me tend my wounds, set up a way to watch our perimeter for rebels, refused to turn me in when it would benefit you, and even removed the CLTI that was my responsibility." She took a deep breath that she thought was not carried on the internal transmission- but it was. "And I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I know you were a noble once, I recognize that much of your name, and joining the Imperial Marines must not have been something you did lightly. I should have considered the feelings you may have towards nobility to have taken such action and not forced you into a situation where I only considered my own wants. That's... that's not to say I regret precisely, but I do apologize that it was so inappropriate, and I promise to restrain myself in the future."

The roof of the manor sloped at only a few degrees above flat. Armistice was located near the equator of New Concordia and the temperature never lowered enough to permit the snow that would require a high pitch. The surface was covered with smooth tiles which looked to be some sort of red brown ceramic but Rene suspected were miniaturized solar collectors. He found access through a seldom visited upper floor doorway which he suspected was used mostly by Armon's servants for repairs and pulled himself up the narrow access way to a small hatch which lead to the roof. Like alot of the manor it had a seemlessness which bespoke expense more effectively than gold plating might have done.

From his rooftop vantage point Rene was able to see out over the estate, it was nearing noon and the day was sweltering, the hot sun evaporating the rain of the night before in a thick humidity which promised to soak him in sweat if he spent more than a few minutes outside the temperature controlled sanctuary of the manor. The gardens extended in all directions, Mia said the estate was several dozen acres but its neighbors were similar properties which made the boundaries uncertain. The manicured gardens gave way to groves of what might be fruit trees. Rene was no botanist but he though he could recognize the distinctly green leaves of Terran varieties. Macadamia and something fragrant, cinnamon or vanilla. It was doubtful that Armon grew anything so crass as commercial crops but it was easy to understand the desire for pleasant smelling surrounds. Off to the west columns of smoke still blackened the horizon in the city proper. Rioting and looting were certain in the chaos following the coup but it seemed less pronounced than it had been the day before. Some authority remained in the city.

Rene didn't know how long it would be before Solae was ready to move, but his instincts told him that they couldn't remain in this relative oasis forever. Someone would be along soon, a second wave of looters if nothing worse. Any competent search would begin with Solae's known associates. Armon had probably been exempted from the list because he was dead but as time passed and the noble woman wasn't found the search would be expanded.

"Sir Rene, Lady Solae is trying to contact you," Mia announced her voice sounding wan and off tone somehow.

"Mia how can you reach me out here?" he asked curiously, sliding back towards the hatch.

"There aren't audio pick ups on the roof are there?"

"I am able to use the tiles as improvised speakers," Mia explained, her voice growing normal as he slipped into the hatch and into the cool sanctuary of the upper hallways.

"Put Solae through please."

The Marine listened to the Marquesas's words, his feelings a confused jumble of emotions. That she seemed suprised that he would help her with no thought for himself was natural enough he supposed. They had both swam in the same societal waters as children and unvarnished self interest was far more common than altruism. Rene didn't know how to make her understand, perhaps didn't know himself, exactly why he had done what he had done and would continue on the same path. It tugged painfully at the edges of his carefully constructed shell to think about it too hard. He hadn't been able to save Ameilla. He had failed her and she was dead. He deserved to be where he was, to be nobody. He stopped walking and leaned his head against a cool stone wall.

"I supposed droping the De from De Quentain isn't a tremendous disguise," he began, subconsciously addressing the easiest part of her statements first. Theoretically he could have picked another name when he signed up but he hadn't been willing to. Part of it was that he wanted to be punished and another part of him refused to completely divest himself of all he had been before.

"You are a good woman Solae," he went on.

"And I'd have saved you if I could no matter who you were. I'm not going to let them sell you at auction or use you as a bribe no matter what happens."

"As for your behavior, you don't have anything to apologize for, we have both been through alot, and probably will have to go through alot more yet before we are free of all this. I'm not a noble any more and I dont want you to do anything that ... you know you would regret later." The sentence trailed off as the words formed in his mind.

"No matter how... appealing it might be to me," he concluded in a rush.

"That is the single most ridiculous thing you have said yet," replied Solae hotly with a trace of the pride elites were so infamous for. Rather than sounding condescending, however, she sounded sincerely insulted. It was Rene's unintended blow to her ego that invoked frustration that bubbled to the surface. "I will be the first to admit that current events and our situation has taken a toll on me- and it will probably continue to do so. There is a saying across nearly every culture, though, that war brings out the truth in a person, even if they disagree on the merit of what is brought to light. If you think I would regret you are either oblivious to how truly amazing you have proved yourself to be, think that all that matters to me is status- admittedly my dalliance with Lord Armon does lead one to believe that because even now I'm not sure why I found him charming, or you think me deaf, dumb, and blind. No matter how overwhelming all of this chaos is to me, my judgment is not horribly impaired."

It was rare that Solae let any semblance of a temper shine through. The stress of hiding from rebellion forces, of being wounded (which was a new experience if she was honest), of losing her parents, and being in proximity to an incredibly handsome and alluring man who was no interested had made her spill out more anger than she intended. Her mother had always said expressing ire in any way except a pointed social attack on the enemy was both unladylike and a weakness. Temper tantrums had been cruelly disciplined until she dared not speak out of turn. Nobility was about control. The closer one was to the top of proverbial ladder the more restraint and stoicism was required in adverse circumstances.

At first Solae wasn't sure why she had let her harsh words fly loose. Perhaps it was her turmoil at the impression that Rene did not actually find her 'appealing,' that he was paying lip service, because while he had returned her kiss he had simply let her leave. Perhaps she was callously using her position as a 'superior' to not give him the respect she ought to give a duke, duchess, or the like. Perhaps, and most likely, she felt comfortable enough around him not to throttle herself. Tension between them aside she trusted Rene not to abandon her even if she was not the pleasant doll that she was expected to be. Bleeding, helpless, and vomiting he had not flinched or retreated. Solae was confident that a flash of anger would not irreparably sever their bond.

She took a deep breath. "I am going to brush up on my Syshi with Mia. If you decide to make lunch please let me know and I will join you."

"Lady Solae," Mia said, interrupting their communication to broadcast to both simultaneously, "I revisit my suggestion you do not stand or walk on your leg for at least another hour."

Solae groaned audibly at the mothering Mia insisted on doing. She was in her twenties and yet she was being treated like a child. While she had only vague notions on how to care for injuries, Rene had done an excellent job with the spray and sutures. It was almost ridiculous that Mia treated Solae as if she were made of fragile glass. If an hour would silence the objections it was a small price to pay.

"Let me amend, then. I will join you if an hour has passed and I'm no longer under bed arrest by her Royal Highness Mia," Solae said before motioning for Mia to stop the broadcast. Solae leaned back onto her pillows lifelessly as she stared at the ceiling and wondered if she had been cruel. The proper thing to do would be give him a chance to reply- but at the same time she was a coward afraid of what he would say.

"Ma'am," Rene responded automatically, his eyes fixing on a point on the wall at the end of the corridor rather. His body began to brace to attention inspite of himself in what, by now, was an instinctive reaction to being dressed down by a superior. The response was a little ridiculous given that he wasn't in the same room, or even within actual earshot of Solae, but it was what his body defaulted to in such a situation. There was a long silence.

"Mia are you still transmitting?" The AI didn't dain to respond. Was it possible that it, she, was advanced enough to take Solae's side and give him the silent treatment? Perplexed he shook his head. Perhaps, if even a computer could make a judgement, he was in the wrong. Solae was a grown woman and it wasn't fair of him to treat her as though he knew her better than she did herself. The disturbing dream played over in his mind as he headed for the dining room, Amelia and Solae's faces flickering like guidance beacons on a jump approach. Maybe he was giving himself too much credit, he had trauma he wasn't dealing with also. The Marines trained their recruits to face situations like this but Rene had been a little too well educated for their training methods to work one hundred percent. He was not able to lose himself in thoughtless violence or mindless patriotism the way a simpler man, like Bowie, might have done. He doubted any other Marine at the rat trap would have hesitated for an instant if made the same offer Solae had been making him. Cursing himself for a fool he decided to make lunch and deliver it as an apology.

"Mia," he called as he entered the dining room and headed for the improvised kitchenette where Solae had baked her cookies. The AI remained stubbornly silent.

"Mia do you have the recipe for Kyndara?" A light pulsed nearby, interrogatively. Kyndara was a traditional dish of the nobility, in the game of court it was symbolic of an apology. The light fluffy cake was often shaped into a small but elaborate sculpture, in theory by the petitioner but more realistically by court chefs. Rene could neither bake nor sculpt the dish but with Mia's help it was just possible he could get the point across and produce a lunch which would not be immediately fatal.

"I have the recipe Sir," Mia said, her tone a little cold. Rene was about to make a retort when a flicker of movement caught his eyes. Out of the main window he saw the trees that lined the pathway flicker gold. He was about to dismiss it as random pheromones but the pattern repeated. A single pulse of gold, rippling along the line of silver foliage, passing the color from tree to tree like a baton. A single pulse could be a chance of the wind but a repeated one... The gold wave swept by again, and then again. Something was disturbing the end of the pathway, brushing by the trees. Something, or someone.

"Shall I begin preparing the dish Sir Rene," Mia asked, unaware of what was transpiring within the Marine's mind. Someone, probably a group of them, were at the end of the driveway. THey might be looters, or they might be Gids, maybe even just civilians, but it didn't bode well for them in any of those cases. He picked up the assault rifle and dashed for the bedroom, pounding his fist on the doorway.

"Solae, Solae I think we have company!"

Solae had, true to her word, been brushing up on her Syshi with Mia. The latter had been suspiciously compliant and some of the sultry affect had vanished from her dulcet tones. The marquise highly suspected that Mia did have the capability to adjust to her voice to her guests, that there was some sort of underlying program for this purpose. What had triggered the change remained unknown. Considering they were not to stay in the manor for much longer it was ultimately irrelevant to their plight. Syshi was a difficult enough language that it was not impossible that Mia could not replicate it perfectly. The subtleties of intonation and emphasis was a challenge to impart to an artificial intelligence with a synthetic voice. When the creators of the software were themselves novices at Syshi, and they expected no patron with this very expensive system would dare to utilize the feature, it was allowed to be neglected and erroneous.

When Rene pounded on the door Solae nearly jumped out of her skin. At first she smiled thinking he was taking up the alluded to but not explicitly stated offer. Her excitement and anticipation the next second when Rene shouted he thought they had company. Tossing off the covers she swung her feet over the side of the bed and half-walked, half-hobbled to her shirt. Solae was still pulling it over her head when she door and indicated he should join her inside. Attempting to hide her limp she did a few subtle exercises with her left leg to improve circulation. Even in this life or death situation she was not confident in her ability to run.

"Mia," she called out, "Setting change. Authority of Marquise Solae Falia, Senior Translator at Stellar Imperial Embassy 524, Armistice, New Concordia. Code 4283-EMHAJ-calmtable3032. Acknowledge authorization." It wasn't the perfect solution; Solae was pulling rank on a home system. This was a universal 'back door' that blatantly exploited the strict seniority and privileges of status. Fortunately only someone elevated higher than a marquise would be able to undo what Solae planned to do and she seriously doubted there was a duke, duchess, or the like outside patiently sneaking up on the residence.

"Authorization acknowledged," Mia responded flatly. Lord Armon's seductive voice selection did not carry over to this administrative section of Mia's functions.

"Enable privacy protections. No commands available to guest users. Only authorized users are Rene Quentain and Solae Falia. Non-response to guest users. All system functions language change to Syshi. No translation or alternative languages available for guest users. Understood?" A blue circle appeared on the nearest wall and cycled a few times before flashing green.

"Changes are in effect," Mia responded in Syshi.

"We need to go to the master bedroom," Solae told Rene before taking his hand, slipping out the door, and creeping down the hall. The intruders had not yet infiltrated the house and they needed to make the most out of the time available to them. A dark blood stain led out of the master bedroom but Solae did her best to ignore the deep crimson saturation of the wood. Her stride and gait were uneven but the adrenaline pumping through her system was making the throbbing in her thigh much less noticeable.

Lord Armon's quarters were lavish enough to include a hot tub, a bed that would have comfortably slept half a dozen, two large sofas carved out of antique wood and upholstered in silken fabric, a tinted window wall, a mirror on the ceiling, and an a statue of two lovers embraced in a surprisingly chaste embrace. Solae moved towards a picture frame on the east wall which she pushed upwards, to the right, up again, and to the left. The frame receded into the wall and was replaced by a small hand indention. "This is the only place I can think of we can go right now. I apologize in advance," she warned as her palm was scanned and index finger pricked. A pleasant chime indicated Solae had passed the test.

"Maybe I was with him for the hot tub," she joked dryly. "This way," she gestured towards the master bathroom. This room had not been tarnished by the massacre that preceded their retreat to the estate. A shower inlaid with glossy polished stone murals depicting the heavens was ahead and to the left, one of its sides resting against the exterior wall, yet 2/3 of the floor was absent. A staircase had appeared in its place leading downwards and in the direction of the wall itself.

With Solae's urging Rene reluctantly followed. The staircase was cramped and tight, meant only for one, but with Solae leading the way it was not overly difficult to navigate. Once the system sensed Solae was descending the gap in the floor they had entered through it had sealed the opening shut again. Even with the closest of inspections Lord Armon's shower would only appear to be a wasteful flexing of his narcissism and wealth. The stairs curled down past the first floor and almost twenty feet below ground before emptying into a private entertainment room approximately the size of a guest bedroom. "Entry and exit for indiscretions," Solae explained. "I only used it a couple times so I don't recall where the tunnel ends."

Rene gazed around the private entertainment room and the discrete passageway which opened into darkness. Unlike the crass extravagance of the house above it was tastefully furnished. Rather than tile or other flooring, the chamber was bare rock which had been polished to a micron smooth finish. The pale white limestone was shot through with veins of reddish laterite with inclusions of mica which shone like gold. The furnishings were of intricately tooled leather which must have been done by hand at considerable expense. Rene wondered if Armon was more nuanced than the rest of the house suggested or if, in the case of a room that saw as little use as this one evidently did, he had just left the decor to professionals.

“Maybe we could stay here until nightall,” Rene began, thinking aloud rather than formulating a concrete plan. It would be easier to move after dark and it was unlikely that anyone not specifically looking for them would find the entrance.

“I do not advise lingering Sir Rene,” purred Mia in a tone which invited one to linger.

“A group of eighteen individuals has entered the ground floor, they appear to be led by a former employee of my master. I calculate the odds of arson to be high.”

“Are there Gids with him?” Rene asked, his eyes roved the room as he spoke, instinctively scanning the ground he might need to fight on. There was a recessed cabinet at the back of the room which held bottles of wine. He moved to it and opened the door and began stuffing bottles into the backpack he had salvaged from the first aid kit.

“Trade goods,” he mouthed to Solae, in an instinctive soto voce even though logically he knew that Mia could hear him and would not be confused by multiple conversations. He had no idea of Shyshin could even metabolize ethanol, but the rare vintages would certainly be worth something to the sort of interloping traders who they were likely to need to get off New Concordia.

“I am unfamiliar with the term Gids,” Mia replied breathily as if thrilled by a revelation he was about to impart.

“Uhh… local army or police,” Rene clarrified, zipping his pack when he judged he had as much as he could easily carry. Liquid wasn’t light and the glass bottles were heavier than their small size belied.

“No, they appear to be mostly lower class civilians, though several are armed,” Mia replied now that her silicon brain had a frame of reference to make the sort.

“I could probably…” Rene trailed off, he had been about to say he could probably kill eighteen poorly armed and unprepared civilians. The Marine Corp would doubtlessly have approved of his elan but it only took one lucky shot to leave Solae alone and exposed. Furthermore, if even one of them escaped he would carry word to the locals that something was up at Lord Armon’s manor. Worse if they started a fire, the Gids would respond and might accidentally trap them in the corden, they couldn’t afford to wait.

“Mia,” Rene began, he glanced at Solae, unable to articulate exactly what he as thinking or a moment.

“Do you have a… an offsite backup?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes, I back up daily,” Mia responded, her voice losing a little of its sultry playfulness to address so technical an inquiry.

“Can you back yourself up please?”

“I can Sir Rene, but why do you request such a thing?” Rene looked around the entertainment room, imagining it filling with smoke as the manor blazed above it. Mentaly watching the roof sag and give way as the structural members gave way and the whole place collapsed. He had no idea where Mia’s control boards were located but he doubted she would survive such an inferno. The manor had been a refuge and Mia had been… well a friend he supposed, even if it was simply programing.

“I’d rather you not perish if there is a fire,” he explained awkwardly.

“My programing instructions would be preserved…” Mia began but Rene cut her off.

“Please it would make me more comfortable.” There was a momentary silence before Mia spoke again. There was muffled crashing above them, as the intruders began to loot or vandalize. There mindlessness of it annoyed Rene, there was nothing they could carry off that was worth a hundredth of what they were destroying for spite. Then again he had been willing to gun down twenty drunken revelers who no doubt had families and friends for the sake of a few hours of sunlight.

“I have backed myself up Sir Rene, and if it is appropriate for me to do so, I wish you and my Lady Falia every success.”

"Mia, before we depart, do you have my undergarment cleaned?" Solae asked delicately once Rene had concluded speaking with the artificial intelligence. It had been surprising that Rene was so concerned about the survival of something he had been uncomfortable with at start. She would be lying if she didn't admit that Mia's programming to encourage sensual encounters and speak seductively wasn't a little strange to her as well, but Rene she wagered had been more bothered than she. That he was, in spite of this, worried about the synthetic existence spoke to a well of empathy that was unexpected in any nobility. If it hadn't been intrusive and wholly inappropriate timing she might have inquired further was title Rene possessed before he had left for the Imperial Marines.

"Yes, of course Lady Solae," was the purred response as she ejected the clothing out of an opening in the wall dedicated to pulling items out of (and putting them into) storage. Mia had cleansed most of the blood out but some of the pale lilac color was mottled and streaked with a pale pink. Motioning for Rene to turn Solae shimmied out of her shorts, pulled on the underwear, and then pulled the shorts back on.

"Thank you for everything, Mia."

"You are most welcome, Lady Solae."

"When we get to another house we'll check in with you," she told Mia. Rationally this didn't mean much to the computerized intellect as she would not feel pain at the destruction of Lord Armon's manor, nor would she feel distress at not having anything to do, and she did not have as firm of a feeling of the passage of time. Solae knew if she escaped this she may not ever feel completely at home in her parent's estate if it could be recovered. Maybe, just maybe, she would survive and build a new residence that Mia could inhabit. There was a sentimentality to it- that Mia helped save them and she could help save Mia (unliving though she was).

"Let's go," Solae told Rene quietly as she packaged away her sadness. The marquise did not look back at the underground room as they made their way down the hall in hushed reverence. She knew a single glance back would fill her with dread, fear, and crippling sadness. To leave the refuge was to venture back into open danger.

The tunnel sloped gently upwards before they arrived at a regal marbled staircase into an unremarkable ceiling. Solae pressed a button hidden on the right side of the bottom step and a circular portion of the aforementioned ceiling slid away into itself, allowing them ample room to ascend safely. Stepping outside they were greeted by a small grove of fruit trees, sunlight so bright Solae squinted her eyes into little slits, and the sound of distant mayhem. Once they were both clear of the passageway's opening it slid shut behind them, leaves rustling in place to cover the seamless edges of where it had been.

"We should start towards the Syshin," Solae whispered. No one was around to hear but she was understandably paranoid about Gids or looters happening upon them. There were loud whoops of excitement from the northwest where Lord Armon's luxurious abode was still standing- for now. "I'll lead the way. The closer we get the less people we'll see... not many like being close to the Syshin, and I imagine the rebellion feels the same way."

They went the opposite direction than the route they had taken from when they first met to Lord Armon's. True to her word, Rene could bear witness to how the noble homes, merchant homes, and even peasant homes and farms became increasingly sparse as they traveled towards the Syshin. There was zoning that dictated whom could live where but it became more barren nonetheless as they drew closer. Lots of land laid bare rather than be occupied too close to the Syshin. After an hour and a half's travel there were smaller groupings of buildings (usually houses, but sometimes an errant shop) that represented the last outcroppings of Armistice before entering the borders of the Amber Horizon Encampment.

As Solae and Rene passed towards a row of shrubs in a modest, but well-maintained, two-story residence a voice called out to them from behind a hedge. "Solae? Solae Falia?" The man was muscular but agile, his black hair silvery gray at the temples, his visage weathered and placing his age somewhere in the fifties, and he was wearing tactical armor that cost a small fortune. At first glance he was neither a Gid, nor an Imperial Marine, nor a noble.

"At ease soldier," he said with a nod towards Rene, "if I was going to shoot I could have ambushed you already. What the hell are you doing out in the middle of the day?" Min Ho furrowed his brow- he hadn't expected New Concordia's most wanted woman to waltz on by so he didn't have a pitch to convince them he was safe.

"For fuck's sake Min Ho, ask them inside!" The sniper on the roof slid down to the balcony, then hung by her fingertips from the railing of the balcony before dropping to the ground. "Forgive his manners, he quite frankly doesn't have any." Min Ho frowned at the assertion. "And before you ask, we're not with the rebellion, but we don't have enough time for more questions out here."