Rene felt as wrung out as he had ever been, so much so that it took him a moment to realise that Solae was speaking to him. For most of the trip her stories had been a buzz in the background of his mind as he tried to keep the improvised engine going. The pump was an effective propulsion unit but Rene had failed to take into account the fact that it was meant to pump air in the cold vacuum of space rather than water at atmospheric pressure. While it certainly could handle the higher mass of the water, the cooling system wasn’t designed to deal with the varying cooling constants of atmospheric operation. Without Mia’s modifications the engine would have shut down due to overheating within an hour, even so it ran close to the limits of the system. It was possible to cool the unit by adding air to the mixture with a manual valve, but that ran the risk of a stall if it got too high and the pump sucked in enough air to lose its vacuum. If that happened Rene wasn’t sure he would be able to get it started again, at least not before they were swept hopelessly off course. The focus of balancing thrust with cooling had been exhausting and his hand cramped on the tillerbar as the words finally penetrated his concentration.

“Yes ma’am, or maybe it should be aye, aye?” he joked for Damaris’ benefit and through the tillerbar over, slewing the nose of the barge slowly northwards. There was no illumination on the barge, save for the glow of LEDs on the pump but even with the clouds there was enough moonlight and reflected star light to see by. Despite poor light and the grey curtain of drizzling rain, the coast line was clearly in view now. Thin beaches of pale white sand clung to the stoney bones of the land mass, which periodically thrust forth in rocky promontories. The passage of the recent hurricane was etched on the shoreline in stark relief. Great wads of lavender vegetation were bunched around the snapped trunks of trees at the top of the shoreline. Rene assumed it was some sort of sea grass that had been driven inland by the storm surge, certainly there was plenty of other maritime detritus, both human and natural scattered about to confirm that theory. The land rose slowly enough that what further damage the winds had done was hidden from sight, but judging from the patchy look of the low distant hills, this wasn’t the only place trees had been shorn of their branches.

There was a sudden grinding crunch and the barge lurched suddenly. Rene felt the shock of the rudder snapping through the tillerbar as it slammed him against the gunnel with enough force to drive the wind from his lungs. Damaris or Solae, possibly both, screamed as they were tossed from their feet. The grinding sound continued for another heart beat and the barge listed badly to one side before its momentum carried it off whatever undersea obstruction they had hit. Detritus and slipped and slid across the tilting deck before the vessel righted itself.

“Stars bloody bu…” Rene cursed as he staggered to his feet and tried to turn them towards the shore. The tiller bar moved easily in his hand, but with the control surface sheared he might as well have saved himself the effort. Worse still the pump clucked and choked and then shut off, its bank of LEDs flashing from yellow to red as it finally overheated. There was a sudden quiet broken only by the hiss of rain on the water and the slap of waves against the hull, all the more profound for the lack of the familiar hum of the pump. Rene looked down into the barge relieved to see Solae and Damaris on their feet. Unfortunately he could also see that three or four inches of water had already accumulated in the bottom of the hull and that the level was rising steadily. The vacuum sealant must have cracked when they hit whatever reef or rock had been concealed beneath the waves and water was now entering rapidly.

“Alright,” Rene called, forcing himself to remain calm as he abandoned the useless tillerbar, vaulting down into the hull to retrieve his bag and the satchel which contained the emergency raft. The water was almost two feet deep and there was a pronounced gurgle as the waves worked the two sections of the now unpowered barge further apart, he clambered back up onto the deck in two quick steps joining both the women. Solae looked pale but her beautiful face was set in an expression of resolve, repressing any fear she had for the sake of Damaris. The girl looked nervous but she wasn’t the mess Rene had feared. Perhaps she trusted that Solae wouldn't let anything bad befall her. There probably weren’t many nobles for whom that would be true, but in this particular case, Rene thought that her faith was well placed. Solae already had her waterproof pouch with her so there was really nothing of value left on the barge.

“What happened,” Damaris asked, though intellectually she must have known the answer. Rene knelt down and began to unzip the satchel of dull polymer canvas he had salvaged.

“I’m afraid our boat is a little worse for wear,” Rene said as he withdrew the bright yellow emergency raft from its casing. He pulled three red tabs in quick succession and there was a sudden rush of pressurized air as the ancient canisters began to discharge unfolding the raft as each section filled.

“Fortunately we have spare,” he said as the raft unfolded like a flower blooming in timelapse. It was a rectangular craft of high visibility yellow synthetic, perhaps four meters long by half that in length. The bottom of the satchel contained a small but powerful electric motor with a fold out propeller extension which Rene withdrew and clipped to the plastic attachment point at the rear of the raft. The barge was settling quickly now, the hold nearly completely awash with sea water.

“Climb aboard,” he directed, guestring to Damaris and Solae to the front of the raft to counterbalance the motor.

“Aren’t you getting in,” Damaris asked nervously. Rene smiled in what he hope was a reassuring manner.

“In a minute,” he told her passing his equipment bag to Solae who slid a leg through the carry strap to pin it in place. The water rose to the level of the deck so that only the gunnels remained above the water. Rene waited for the last moment, resisting the urge to shove off until the water reached his boots. At the final instant he shoved the raft hard sending it off towards the shore before stepping onto the gunnel and leaping onto the back of the small inflatable, adding his momentum to the shove and carrying it away from the now completely submerged barge. He pressed the activation switch on the motor and, to his enormous relief it spun to life. Casting a final glance back he saw the barge slip completely beneath the waves in a frothing mass of bubbles.

By now the current had carried them the length of the beach and nearly to the rocky promontory. Rene turned hard and angled back towards the beach. He didn’t know how well the raft would handle rocks but he was in no mood to find out when Solae’s life might hang in the balance. As it turned out, the promontory proved to be a boon, shielding them from the worst of the wind and waves until, a few minutes later, they ground ashore on the beach. Rene’s relief was immediate and profound. He hadn’t been at all confident that the rafts capacitors would hold out more than a few minutes. Solae and Damaris must have been equally relieved because they both climbed over the side and splashed through the thigh deep water up onto the beach. Rene picked up his bag and pitched it underhanded up onto the sand before climbing out himself and dragging the raft several dozen feet up towards the purplish ruin at the top of the strand. Rene sat down heavily on a chunk of sun bleached coral and blew out his breath, wiping salty water out of his face and eyes. He was glad that the tremble in it, the byproduct of fear and adrenaline wasn’t visible in the dim light of evening. His ribs throbbed from where the tiller had struck him but he was really not too much the worse for wear.

“I’m afraid we have a bit of a walk head of us.”

Like any noblewoman, Solae was quite adept at concealing her emotions from the most discerning eyes. Rene was still able to recognize the tell-tale creases at the edge of her mouth and a darkening of her gaze that reflected frustration. Whether this was because he was an aristocrat that had been trained at an early age to read the hidden emotions of his peers or because his fiancee was simply not putting forth much effort to disguise her feelings it was impossible to tell. What was clear, however, was that Damaris was blissfully oblivious that there was anything amiss in her temporary maternal figure. Without any prompting she skipped ahead to lead them towards her home located on the northern side of the large island. Any trauma the youth might have suffered from the sea had been forgotten in the glee of growing closer to her parents and the safety of their presence.

When Rene had presented the plan of sailing the repaired barge to San Roayo his marquise paramour had expressed concern. While it was true they had been successful in escaping and eluding the duke's rebellion thus far, for longer many might dream them capable, it had not been without struggle and injury. Solae had had survived the assault on the embassy but had to watch her closest friend and colleagues die in front of her eyes. She had stumbled upon Rene, the one person on the entire planet that might understand and help her, but she had lost her parents and her home. They had found refuge in Lord Armor's mansion but discovered an atrocious bounty put on her head, had to perform an emergency surgical procedure, and fled with little with the estate was ransacked. The assistance of the Parks had been invaluable, and the Syshin had seen past their apprehension to trust and help, but Solae had very nearly been kidnapped by slavers. The attack on the smuggler's plantation had netted them healing for Rene, a ship on which to integrate Mia, and supplies, but they had both been seriously wounded and the heiress to the Falia fortune had nearly died. Now that the Bonaventure was stranded on the caldera with little fuel she did not have confidence in their luck.

"We might be on Panopontus longer than is safe," she whispered. Without method or materials with which to make the barge salvageable they had only the inflatable raft on which to depend. Returning to their vessel sans Damaris would be less weight on the raft but she had serious doubts it was sturdy enough to endure the ocean's waves. The thick rubbery material it was constructed out of was durable but chosen with the expectation it would only be utilized for emergencies. No one in manufacturing had anticipated two imperial citizens fleeing from a coup and trying to use it as a prolonged method of transport. Given the option Solae would take the risk. As terrible as it would be to found by their enemies it was still preferable to drowning.

"I know we had to bring Damaris home," the diplomat sighed, "but I can't help but feel this might be our undoing." Before the adolescent had jumped out from behind brush and swung a plank at Rene's head going to San Roayo was not a moral obligation. They had the freedom to either seize the opportunity, and the dangers accompanying it, or to decline and see how long they could stretch out their food rations. With how well Solae had packed it would have been weeks at minimum before they would need to worry. True, the Empress would have remained ignorant of the violence in the sector, and they could be labeled deserters, but few would have truly blamed them sincerely.

They had landed on one of the western shores. City proper was to their right as they trudged north, their clothing soaked and the ground below them soft and muddy, with beach to their left. Large chunks of coral, vegetation ripped from the ground, and pieces of debris from nearby structures littered the sand. Jagged rock jutted out intermittently and proved the coastline was a mixture of approachable and hostile to ships. They had been fortunate to find a section that didn't rip their boat in half.

Buildings on Panopontus were vastly different than those on New Concordia. There were far more residences farther inland, but the ones they passed all had been raised above the ground on supports of concrete, metal alloy, or a dark grey synthetic composite. The tallest in their line of vision was four stories tall; most were only three including the functional bottom floor with the support beams. Not every home had survived the monstrous storm. Smaller houses without multiple layers of reinforcement had been flattened into piles of rubble. A rough visual approximation was that a third of what had been upright a week ago was still remaining. If Solae remembered correctly the hurricane had breached the island from the southeast before passing over, perhaps devastating smaller islands before San Roayo, and that was why so many were spared in this location. If she was a betting woman she would have wagered that most of the disaster relief services were focused on the corner that taken the brunt of the assault.

"Damaris, please watch where you step!" Solae called ahead. The girl turned around and giggled, nodding her head enthusiastically, before she started to prance again. The more that the diplomat looked around the more she realized that there were only a handful of trees in sight. Older giants had been toppled, most onto barren roadways and walking paths, but a few into yards, and at least laid precariously on a roof. Smaller trees had been so thoroughly obliterated there was only a fresh stump, splinters, and branches as any evidence they had existed at all. She wasn't certain if she should be more impressed at the savagery of Mother Nature or the efficacy of architecture that this much of an San Roayo was still standing.

"Her mother and father are going to take one look at me and know I'm not a commoner," she thought aloud. "Do you want to tell them about what is going on? And don't tell me it's my decision alone. Even if I'm easier to spot as a noble you have equal say in what we do or do not divulge. They could be grateful and sympathetic, or they might try to play this to their advantage. I think the former is more likely but... I didn't believe the duke was capable of this level of bloodshed last week and today we're refugees. I don't want to rely on my judgment alone."

Rene nodded thoughtfully as the continued towards the city. The scale of the destruction was impressive not only in the destroyed trees but also in the lack of light coming from the town ahead. It was full dark now but only a few houses had any light at all emanating from them. Here and there were bright pools where emergency lighting had been rigged to generators, or portable power cells, but by and large the town was unnaturally dark. Many windows had been boarded up against the storm's fury but here and there flickering lights from candles or kerosene lamps could be picked out.

“I don’t think there is anything to be gained by pretending,” he said, a little reluctant. Solae’s nobility would be immediately obvious to anyone with eyes, her beauty and coloration unmistakable. Rene might or might not have been recognised on his own, but in Solae’s company his own heritage would also be apparent.

“Beside Damaris already knows your a princess and im a knight,” he added. Mia didn’t have any reason not to call him that after all and there was no way Damaris, in her enthusiasm, would be convinced not to reveal them.

“Word might not have reached them yet,” he said judiciously. Without PEAs, interstellar communication depended on vessels carrying news from system to system and transmitting it to planetary nets. Major systems like Capella or Tau Setti were almost always up to date because the flow of merchant and naval traffic was high and because they had dedicated courier systems that ran to the other major systems. More remote systems like Panopontus had to rely on merchant traffic transmitting data from their last ports, a function most communications suites handled automatically. In order for anyone on Panopuntus to be looking for them a ship would need to have come from New Concordia or some other place where Solae’s survival had already been reported.

The climbed over a low rocky bluff, passing a memorial to what Rene assumed must have been a shipwreck or other maritime disaster. Bronze plaques were set into small sconces and a pair of flag poles had been bent by the fury of the wind and flying debris. They were close enough know that Rene could see people working on clearing destroyed houses and other projects. Here and there flashing lights indicated police or gendarmerie or whatever kind of emergency services San Roayo supported, though they seemed to be involved in rescue operations, traffic direction or perhaps only to deter looters. Descending a series of switchbacked stone steps, they came upon what must have been a sea side strand. Restaurants and taverns were dark and silent and broken vegetation half covered what must have been a playground. A series of overhead illuminators lined a concrete pedestrian path, though all were dark for lack of power.

The entire street had been smashed by the storm surge, and Damaris looked around in wide eyed shock at what must have been familiar sites. The path was torn up in places and sand swept up by the sea covered the grassy expanses. Erosion crumpled a few of the buildings and the ruins of pier and jetties left timber planks scattered around like spilled match sticks. There were a few people around, sifting through the wreckage but none seemed to pay much attention to the strangers. Solae pushed her hood up to cover her golden hair and Rene was relieved that there was so little in the way of illumination.

Damaris lead them back from the shore down several streets of plasticized gravel. The city rose towards a rocky hill of a few hundred meters of elevation. A red beacon, a navigation aid for vehicles and perhaps ships, flashed from atop it at a long interval. The houses here were single story affairs, the taller ones seeming to cluster on the higher ground. Bare earth covered what must have at one time been kitchen gardens, the wind having destroyed what the water had not. More than once Solae had to ask Damaris to slow down as they grew closer to their destination, the girls eagerness transforming her walk into something more like a run.

“This is it!” she said as they turned into a darkened street, tugging insistently on Solae’s hand and leading her through a gate of tan bricks and down a narrow path between the ruins of a garden and a vehicle shelter, its corrugated door buckled inward by flying debris. The house itself was a simple construction of cinderblocks, with large windows protected by a latticework of metal. Several of the windows were armored with sheets of compressed fiber board although some of these had been taken down now the fury of the storm had passed. Light emenated from the largest of the clear windows and Damaris lead them without delay to the large metal door and pulled it open. Solae followed her closely and Rene bought up the rear, his vigilant eyes sweeping for threats.

Inside a middle aged woman, gaunt and exhausted, sat at a kitchen table. Dark bags beneath her eyes testified to a lack of sleep and tear stains cut lines in the dirt of several days of indifferent washing. The resemblance to Damaris was faint but unmistakable. Luminators had been tacked to the wall and plugged in to a powercell of black and yellow plastic to provide some light. Several news feeds were scrolling past on a simple, battered looking view screen. Rene realised immediately that they were lists of the dead and the missing. The woman turned at the sound of the opening door and froze with a look of shock on her face.

“Mama!” Damaris called and raced across the patterned tiles of the floor towards the woman. Her hand lifted to her mouth, the shock transfiguring into a look of joy and relief so profound that it made Rene swallow against the emotion. He followed Solae into the kitchen and closed the door behind them, eager to shield them from prying eyes, as unlikely as that seemed right at the moment.

Despite having brought Damaris back to her home, thus making her both welcome and wanted in the residence, Solae couldn't help but feel that she was an intruder in a precious and intimate mother daughter moment. There was something about the manner in which parent and child clung to each other so desperately that made her heart ache. The loss of her own mother was still fresh in her mind though she had avoided speaking of it except in passing commentary. Selene Falia had been neither especially warm nor outwardly emotional, and there was no physical resemblance to speak of between her and Damaris's mother, yet something in he latter's gaze evoked a familiar lingering sentimentality. For the briefest moment the golden-haired diplomat yearned to walk into her sprawling estate and say something purposefully controversial that would instigate an argument with her parents. She wished against reason to be scolded in the haughty tone that was reserved for when her mother wanted to verbally bludgeon the strong-willed heir. Death had made the most heated of arguments precious memories. In retrospect it was possible such vocal sparring that had been the female Falia expression of love just as a simple hug was here.

"We thought..." the middle-aged woman sobbed as squeezed the adolescent with unadulterated joy.

It was clear what she thought given the broadcast she had been both listening to and watching. One could scarcely imagine how exceedingly unexpected this reunion was. The names of the missing that scrolled across the screen were presumed dead given the intensity of the storm and the time that had passed since its initial assault. Officially the authorities were not giving up hope there were survivors. Chances were a few lucky individuals would be dug out of the rubble of their demolished homes in the next twenty-four hours. In their heart of hearts, though, San Roayo knew they would discover more corpses than living citizens.

"She washed up on the shore of an island," Solae tried to explain. Damaris's mother was intently focused on the miraculous sensation of holding her daughter in her arms again rather than fretting over how it came to be. From her experience the marquise knew that curiosity and a need to understand would follow as this initial exuberance gradually faded. She also felt increasingly awkward standing there watching in silence. Giving a vague recounting of how their circumstances developed was preferable to quietly standing just inside the doorway and waiting for their existence to be acknowledged.

"It's true Mama! I was carried to an island and I almost hit Mister Rene with a stick because I didn't know he was a knight," Damaris proudly recounted. "Then Miss Solae stopped me, and they took me back to their ship to sleep, and gave me things to eat." Normally the girl was much more eloquent but she was so excited and overly eager to recite the tale that she simplified it to the extreme.

"You almost hit... a knight?" Damaris's mother asked in mixture of confusion and horror. For the first time she looked at the two strangers that had entered her home. Eyes drifted from Rene to Solae and then back again as she began to comprehend that she was in the presence of nobility. Wisps and errant ringlets of aureate had spilled past the edges of Solae's hood and onto her shoulders. This unnatural coloration called attention to their high cheekbones, enviable physiques, and other features indicative of elite breeding. Beleaguered and weary as they were they still stood out under the scrutiny of the common man. The matriarch let out a strangled gasp.

"May we sit down?" Solae asked politely as she gestured to the small table tucked against the wall. There were four chairs, two tucked under each side, that were clean but neither matched each other nor the table. Mentally the linguist considered that someone ought to force her peers to descend from their villas, castles, and vacation homes to the planets of poor colonists. The empress had been making strides in surrounding herself with trustworthy people as she seized power, but making certain the politicians granted title also had empathy for the rest of the Stellar Empire was paramount in Solae's mind. If they were forced to face the conditions of their lessers it could teach humility and give them insight to the challenges that lay ahead.

"Oh yes, of course, of course," Damaris's mother said as she bobbed her head and furtively tried to wipe her hands on her smock. Before anyone could try to pull back one of the chairs for her Solae had already done so herself once permission had been granted to take a seat. From her posture Rene could tell she was tired but obstinately fighting her fatigue. Her shoulders sagged slightly, there was a subtle curve to her spine that was not present when she was more alert, and she failed to cross her legs over one another or at the ankles as she typically did. The anxiety borne of undertaking the endeavor to cross the ocean with their young charge had taken a toll. She would not be relieved until they were back in the Bonaventure and enjoying the protection its shielded hull offered.

"I apologize, it was a bit of a walk to get here," Solae admitted as an attempt to excuse any minor breaches in etiquette that existed or might follow. "What Damaris said is true, she did swing a stick at Rene, but it was understandable she was startled to find us on the island. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Solae and this is my fiance, Rene."

Damaris's mother moved forward and took both of the marquise's hands in her own as tears brimmed in her eyes. "Thank you, miss. If you hadn't brought Damaris back to me I... I..." she struggled for words. Not one to judge another's feelings, much less after something so traumatic, Solae only smiled reassuringly.

"She saved herself, we just helped her return a little more quickly than she might of if we hadn't been there," was the reply. It felt wrong to accept gratitude as if it was their effort alone that had guaranteed Damaris's livelihood. Arguably the scrawny brunette would have dehydrated or starved before she was found, but Solae didn't want to discount the fortitude it took to endure the historic waves that had tossed the girl about, the determination it took to crawl up the beach, or the stubborn will to live that had kept her from giving up when she thought she was on a deserted caldera. "We needed to come to San Roayo regardless," she added so that it didn't seem like the child had inconvenienced the couple in a major way.

"Where are my manners? I am Julia," Damaris's mother introduced herself. "Let me... let me get you some water to drink. Are you hungry? I do not have much but I am happy to cook for you. Please, let me do something to thank you," she pleaded earnestly. Solae bit the inside of her cheek pensively. It was apparent that Julia felt obligated to repay their kindness despite every attempt to convey that such gestures were not anticipated nor necessary. Uncertain how to proceed she turned towards Rene and raised her eyebrows as if to ask if he wanted to have a late night meal or politely decline.

Rene, who through exhaustion and preoccupation with the challenges before them, had zoned out, snapped back into focus. Julia was already on her feet busying herself pulling open cupboards and looking for food. The soldier held up his hands in a placating gesture and Julia’s face froze in an expression that was hard to read. Fear of giving offense mixed with a desire to show her appreciation as well as an almost hysterical relief that her daughter, whom she must have imagined drowned, was alive. Rene knew that she needed to give them something, anything, to show her appreciation but he didn’t want her to waste food when they weren’t hungry and there might be lean times ahead where she and her family might go hungry.

“We’ve eaten ma’am,” he said deferentially, Julia’s face fell but he quickly added.

“Though if you have caffeine…” The woman’s face brightened immediately and she seized a metal coffee pot from a rack and began to label a generous serving of black powder into the top of the unit before filling it with water from a nearby jug. Rene guess that the water systems were out along with the main power grid.

“Princess Solae has the best food on her ship!” Damaris piped up helpfully. Rene thought the girl was acting a little more childlike now that she was back with her mother, not that he begrudged her the chance to let her guard down and feel safe. It was an odd thing for him to see, his family had not been a warm one and the interactions he were seeing here were like watching a holodrama to him, so alien were they from his own experiences.

“Are you really, you know, from the capital?” Julia asked as she began to pour cream into the coffee. It had a slight acrid odor to it, Rene presumed that it was from a gene splice, perhaps with a local fungus or coral, rather than Old Earth plants. He presumed by the capital she was referring to the planets main star port on the southern continent.

“We are from off world actually,” Solae said judiciously, sticking, as agreed, as close to the truth as possible.

“Our ship is low on fuel,” Rene added, taking the proffered cup of coffee and passing it to Solae before receiving a second one for himself. He sipped at it, it was bitter and unsweetened but not unpleasant.

“We had to make an emergency landing,” he explained. Julia nodded along, though it was clear she had no real notion of just how risky making such a landing had been.

“We don’t get a lot of offworlders here,” Julia said, in what was evidently an understatement. From what little data had been available on the Bonaventure, coral that was collected in the hinterlands was transhipped to the capital before being stabilized with chemicals and put onto bulk transports which took the stuff to the higher technology worlds which handled the processing. That arrangement wasn’t necessarily the most efficient, but as it provided a convenient way of collecting local and Imperial taxes, and as it made the bureaucrats who handled the trade wealthy from salaries and kickbacks, it was the arrangement that was in place. Rene wondered if his father had ever looked closely at the various fiefs which were the basis of his own wealth.

“You are of course welcome to stay with us, we have a guest room,” Julia said with a gesture towards a small doorway. THrough the portal Rene could see a tidy room in which various half completed craft projects were laid out on a table and across a bed. Solae opened her mouth to reply when there was a sudden roar. Rene’s hand darted into the duffel bag and grabbed for his concealed pistol but Solae caught his wrist beneath the table, pinning him in place. A tall, rather heavy set man, dressed in a heavy duty rain coat which was filthy with mud, rushed into the house and scooped up Damaris in his arms, tears starting freely from his eyes.

“Papa! Papa!” Damaris was squealing as the man whirled her around, crushing her to him in a fierce hug. Julia’s eyes were wet with emotion too as she witnessed the reunion. The big man was shaking with emotion, hardly able to contain himself. Rene let go of the pistol and after a moment Solae released his hand, which he withdrew from the bag and placed on the table top. If either Julia or her husband had noticed the by play they gave no sign. Rene gave Solae an apologetic look. It was possible to be wound so tight that your only reaction to the unxpected was to fly to action. That was certainly what the Marine Corp taught, but it would hardly have made their interaction with the locals any smoother if he had pulled a gun on an emotional reunion.

“How.. how is this possible?” the man stammered, holding Damaris in his arms and turning grateful eyes on the two newcomers.

"We were just explaining to Julia," Solae began with a calm, diplomatic gesture to the woman she could only assume was his wife, "your daughter washed up on the shore of an island where we had landed our ship. I can't say that we anticipated having a guest, but I am grateful to have met such a strong, brave young lady." The marquise's words were sincere. As one might assume with a noble who voluntarily pursued employment at an embassy, Solae was an incredibly social person by nature. Her interactions with Mia, the Park couple, the Syshin, and then the servants of the slaver's plantation had been proof of this aspect of her disposition. It was not that her soldier-turned-fiance was lacking, but rather she often believed in the more than the merrier. For obvious reasons the coup had made it challenging to fulfill this desire.

"They're off-worlders," Julia added, "Had to do an emergency landing because their ship is low on fuel. I told them they could stay the night in the guest bedroom. It's the least we can do," she added with an eagerness to repay the perceived heroism of the aristocratic couple. Both of them would object to such a lofty label but it was undeniable that Damaris would not be back in the safety of her home if not for their intervention. To the parents of the energetic girl they had saved they were veritable saints worthy of anything and everything they could give.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary," Solae reassured, "We have a couple errands to run around the city. In addition to getting fuel, I'd like to swing by the communication center. Rene has been out of contact with his family for a while and I'd like to track down the most current information on his father." It sounded as if she was divulging the entirety of her reason for visiting the center, but Rene knew that Solae was omitting and obfuscating the majority of her motivation. Despite his apprehensions about the dangers of a potential investigation, she wanted to download every bit of information she could surrounding the murder of his former lover, the changes in the political strata since then, and any news that could be tangentially related. Contacting his father was one of their smaller and less suspicious goals.

"You can't go wandering around after dark," Damaris's father insisted as they sipped at their beverages. "It isn't safe. None of the street lights are working, we've had desperate people taking advantage of the situation by looting buildings at night when no one is looking, and they're conserving power by turning off half the grids when everyone's supposed to be asleep." Solae just barely kept her lips from turning downward at this rather convincing argument for waiting until the morning to wander around. Though he had not stated so explicitly, she also strongly suspected the paternal figure would warn her no one would be bartering or selling fuel at this hour either. After a pause a small sigh escaped her lips. Rene was armed and able to keep her safe but there was a vast difference between shooting criminals, or would-be assailants, and gunning down starving thieves after a typhoon robbed them of all their worldly possessions.

"It kind of you to worry, but I am afraid I would bring unwanted attention to myself during daylight hours," she replied with practiced ease and grace. At this admission Damaris's father blinked in confusion, noticing the color of her hair for the first time. He was not typically an oblivious man but he had been so enthralled with the reappearance of a daughter he had been convinced was killed that he had paid little attention to the details of the pair seated at the kitchen table. Solae watched realization dawn on his features as he absorbed not only her physical features but the lilt of her voice that was exceedingly proper for a peasant.

"Tychon," Julia said as she turned towards the burly man still carrying Damaris in his arms. It was hard to tell who was more unwilling to let go- Damaris or her precious Papa. "What you took them tomorrow? Lady Solae can wear one of my shawls to help keep her hair hidden. You know the roads better than any map and if you tell people what they did for us they might sell the things they need to them," she suggested with enthusiasm.

Solae felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. There was already an overwhelming sense of guilt for having dragged her marine beau into the disastrous vortex that was her life at present. His health had been jeopardized repeatedly when he could have simply disappeared into the chaos of New Concordia and invented a new life for himself. Their continued association with one another, and his role as her savior, enlarged any target already on his existence. Before Panopontus everyone they came into contact with knew the implications of their assistance and accepted the peril readily. Tychon, Julia, and Damaris were innocents. They were stumbling into a bloody confrontation they did not know existed. Once word spread to this planet they had plausible (and understandable) deniability they were harboring fugitives. A sliver of risk, no matter how minuscule, on such a warm, loving family still made her heart heavy.

"Yes, that is a wonderful idea Julia!" Tychon announced as she laughed heartily and swung around Damaris joyously.

"I'll go clean the guest bedroom," Julia said as she hurriedly went to the adjoining room.

A week prior if someone had told the young marquise that she would have a decision made on her behalf by two well-meaning laborers she would have thought it a joke. Her mouth had opened as mentally she had begun to formulate a persuasive counter, yet nothing escaped past her lips. Lords and ladies laughed behind painted silken screens as the foolishness of the poor and yet she had been more expertly managed into an obligation to follow someone else's plan by this happily wedded, middle-aged, oblivious duo than any courtly manipulations. After a few seconds she turned and shrugged to Rene with a silent laugh in her tone. "I guess we're staying for a bit. It would be good for you to rest after the boat ride here," she advised softly without a thought to her own mounting exhaustion.

Tychon led them into the small guest bedroom, packing his wife’s craft supplies away with a quick care that Rene found touching. Damaris practically clung to his leg and he didn’t object. Rene couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for the man. Judging by the dirt on his clothing he had been out there digging survivors out of the rubble, all the while feeling that his own child was dead. It must have seemed a miracle to have the girl back whole and healthy, Rene supposed that in a way it was. The whole Eastern Cross might be descending into civil war, but at least here, at this village, they had done something good. Of course that assumed that their presence didn’t bring ruin on their kindly benefactors.

“I’m sorry we weren’t expecting guests,” Tychon said, not for the first time, as he hastily cleared space on the bed for them. He gave Rene a measuring look when he thought the marine wasn’t watching. Tychon was no soldier, but he had the look of a man who had led a hard life, and recognised a dangerous man when he saw one. Rene didn’t think of himself as imposing but his genetic modification, aristocratic features, and the lean lithe grace that combat training imparted gave him a presence that marked him as someone to be wary of.

“So what kind of fuel do you need Sir Rene,” Tycon asked a trifle awkwardly as he finished stacking boxes into a corner. The bed wasn’t huge but still larger than the captains bunk that Rene and Solae shared on the Bonaventure. A handmade quilt covered it, green and blue with a pattern vaguely reminiscent of coral stitched into it with a slightly reflective thread. Carefully, Rene set his duffle bag in a corner, controlling his reluctance to set aside a weapon with some difficulty. You couldn’t be ‘on’ all the time, and trying to be was dangerous as well as pointless.

“Just Rene is fine,” the soldier objected, his current status in the Stellar Empire certainly didn’t grant him the right to the title, and even if it did, this wasn't a setting in which he would have insisted on formality.

“ And anything with an isotopic purity greater than .95 SD’s will be fine,” Rene went on. Starships reactors worked by combining any one of a half dozen different elements in a fusion reaction that was contained in a magnetic suspension rig. The actual material used for fuel didn’t matter so long as it was light and it was pure. Even advanced reactors couldn’t handle heterogeneous fuel sources because the uneven fluxes quickly magnified until the containment failed. Larger vessels had conditioning equipment which could homogenize the fuel but the space and cost of such systems made them impractical on small tramps like the Bonaventure. Tychon sucked in his lip.

“We keep liquid fluorine to stabilize the coral, it's probably pure enough for you, I know a guy who works there,” the man said with a nod of approval. The room was small and with three adults and a child present the air was close. Rene didn’t imagine that showers would be a priority any time soon, not without electricity to run the pumps.

“Will he sell it to us, we need quite a bit,” Rene asked. He had been prepared to steal fuel if they needed to but would have been just as happy not to run any unnecessary risks. Tychon’s grin grew broader.

“He will when I remind him that I pulled his nephew out of a collapsed warehouse. Don’t you folks worry, we won’t forget what you have done for us.” He bade them goodnight and headed for his own bedroom, half carrying half dragging his exhausted but excited daughter with him. Rene sank wearily into of of the chairs which had been cleared of the clutter of a decade, feeling the weariness and stress of the voyage settle into his bones. Solae smiled at him and crossed the room, she unbuttoned his salt crusted shirt and drew a moist towel from a dispenser in the first aid kit and began to wipe away the salt and sweat, the nearest approximation to a bath that was available in the present condition. Rene’s muscles twitched and quivered with tension and exhaustion. It had been a very long time since he slept for more than a snatch. He opened his mouth to speak, he wanted to talk about the communications station and about plans for getting the fuel to the ship but Solae silenced him with a kiss and continued to clean him up.

“I love you…” he mumbled, his eyelids suddenly very heavy. Solae put a finger up to his lips to stop him from speaking but his head lolled to the side as he slid into exhausted dreamless sleep.

No sooner had she coaxed Rene to submit to sleep than Solae silently stepped back and surveyed her surroundings with a soft sigh. It would be preferable to maneuver him to the bed but there was no practical way to do so. Even if he did not weigh substantially more (mentally she could only make rough calculations), she had no real physical strength to speak of, and lifting any amount of dead weight was no easy task. The chair was an adequate resting place but she doubted he would obtain the same quality of sleep while sitting relatively upright as opposed to laying flat on his side, back, or stomach. Staring at him a few moments longer, her gaze fixating on the curve of his neck, she worried whether or not this would cause a sore muscle come down. It was a silly thing to fret over given their recent dire circumstances and yet she could not halt the thoughts. Her beloved should not only be healthy but he ought to be as comfortable as possible.

There was nothing to be done. Resigning herself to leave her soldier just as he was she withdrew from the room. Had he been any less fatigued she might have lingered with apprehension he'd stir when her presence departed. Fortunately he was lost in such a deep slumber there was no risk that it would be hindered nor interrupted by her restlessness. The marquise turned the knob as quietly as possible so that she would also not disturb her hosts. Tychon's low rumbling baritone drifted from a room down the hall as he valianty tried to persuade Damaris into bed. In response the girl giggled, squealed, and padded around in jubilant defiance.

"Can't sleep?" Julia asked kindly as Solae entered the kitchen.

Luminators tacked to the wall still basked the kitchen in a gentle glow of pale gold, not unlike the aristocrat's genetically modified hair color. The home's floors were a composite manufactured from ground seashells and coral dust mixed with cement, the latter of which was more expensive on the oceanic planet, then smoothed and finished with a polycarbonate. The late Marquess and Marquise Falia preferred exotic woods, plush woven rugs, and expensive stone native to worlds two jumps away from their estate. Panopontus's residents did not have the luxury of importing building supplies more than absolutely necessary. Those that did were wealthy merchants that profited from unfair trade agreements to their advantage.

"I can't either," the middle-aged mother admitted when she did not get an immediate response from the stunned noblewoman. "I feel like I was in a fog but seeing Damaris again has electrified me. I thought I'd give Tychon a chance to wrangle Damaris while I try to calm myself. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Oh no, no thank you," Solae replied quickly, not wanting to inconvenience the family any further when she still felt an imposition at best. Every compassionate gesture from these innocents made her heart ache for their future. Were the duke's forces to fail to recognize the aid given to the fugitives, Tychon and Julia would still continue to live in poverty despite their hard work, and that felt insufferably unjust. Blasphemous as it might be, Solae did not know why she deserved finery based on birth alone and these virtuous souls could never earn a fraction of her financial security. Perhaps when this was all over she would investigate a means to reward them for their hospitality and generosity.

"Is Sir Rene asleep?" Julia inquired with a tilt of her head towards the nearby guest bedroom.

"Yes," she answered with a small smile. "After trying to salvage a boat to ferry us over here, outfitting it with an improvised engine, navigating us from our island across the sea, and then walking a bit of a distance to get here... he deserves a long, peaceful rest. Julia, we sincerely appreciate everything you are doing for us. Not many would be so charitable to strangers."

"Nonsense! What you did for us- you are family to us now. This is the least we could do. I hope you do not take offense, Lady Solae- "

"Please, just call me Solae," the linguist interrupted with her request.

"Solae, you look very tired," Julia finished. It was undoubtedly true. Since the discovery of Damaris on the beach of the caldera there had been no pause for even a quick nap. Though she had not exerted herself with manual labor she had been companionship, entertainment, counselor, mechanic, and coordinator during much of that span of time, and it had taken a toll she could not entirely ignore. There were corpses with less pallid complexions. "Are you missing your home?" the matron finally ventured. "You spoke of going to see Rene's family but not yours."

"Oh my... my parents are deceased," she struggled to confess. Surprisingly her voice was stable if not pitched higher from the tension in her statement.

"I'm... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean..." Julia tried to frantically apologize.

"It's quite all right," Solae assured as she cleared her throat. "There was no way you could know. I do miss them but I have Rene in my life and for that I am thankful. I am also glad to see that I was able to mend a family torn asunder by a natural disaster. These little things help ease the pain of my loss, silly as it might be."

Julia considered and, in an uncharacteristically bold move, crossed the gap between the two and embraced the other woman in an endearing hug. The marquise's eyes brimmed with tears at the affection, not just because she needed affirmation that there were victories in their circumstances, but because Julia seemed to be a mother she did not have in that moment of need. "Come on, let me tuck you into bed," she suggested as she felt the golden-haired 'princess' start to relax under her grasp. The intuition of the lower-class citizen was more finely attuned than many of the Empress's trusted advisors. "I'm sure you'll feel better by morning. We all will."

For once Rene’s sleep was untroubled by dreams. He slept in the unrelieved darkness of complete exhaustion oblivious to the universe. Genetic enhancements and brutal physical and mental conditioning could only take one so far and the exertions of the past days had pushed Rene closer to the limit than he would have admitted. Even so, he had been on Panopontus long enough that his body dutifully woke him an hour or so before dawn for stand-to. Rising, he stretched his muscles working the tight cords out of his back. Solae lay in the bed in a deep sleep, somehow as beautiful in her repose as in every other aspect of her life. For a few moments he simply watched her, drinking in the sight before finally turning and heading out of the bedroom and into the main house.

To Rene’s surprise Tychon was in the kitchen, stirring a packet of instant caffine into a mug of hot water. The other man looked up at Rene in some surprise. The Panoponti was wearing another set of heavy duty coveralls, though they were knotted around his waist revealing a white cotton undershirt.

“You’re up early,” Tychon observed, pouring a second cup of caffine without asking Rene if he wanted one.

“Habit is a powerful thing,” Rene said, accepting the lukewarm cup of liquid thankfully and taking a sip. To his surprise it appeared to be based on a protein broth rather than on water. The subversion of expectations was a little unpleasant but he supposed it made sense to combine breakfast with the stimulant drink.

“That it is,” Tychon agreed casting a companionable glance at the soldier.

“I’m up this time every morning, to check the weather normally, can't harvest coral in a storm or if it is too rough.” A light but persistent rain was falling outside, pattering off the corrugated iron roofing. Out in the yard Rene could see that the sealed path was flowing with a shallow stream of water, though judging by his hosts lack of alarm, this was nothing unusual. Large green plants with heart shaped leaves, low enough to the ground and with sufficient protection to have survived the hurricane, writhed under the rain as they shed the water.

“I’m guessing that you aren’t up to check the weather,” Tychon went on, sipping at his breakfast and arching an eyebrow.

“Not exactly,” Rene agreed but didn’t amplify the statement. Telling Tychon that he was checking the perimeter would seem paranoid at best and confirm any suspicions that they had something to hide. That probably wasn’t much of a stretch considering how they had arrived and the fact that a pair of obvious nobles were here at all.

“You aren’t going out today I take it?” Rene asked. The air was redolent with the scent of the ocean and the earthy smell of rain falling on loose soil. The alien plant life tinged the whole mixture with something vaguely resinous, different from the plant life of other world Rene had visited. It was cooler than new Concordia had been, though Rene doubted it ever got as cold as the slightly alpine region of Cappela where his family kept its estate.

“No most of the fleet is beached, driven ashore by the storm,” Tychon said. There was a tightness to his face and Rene realised the hardship that represented for people living hand to mouth. It might be months before San Roayo was able to resume its normal business. Rene wondered if his father's agents ever took that into account when they made their demands for rents and dues. He doubted it and the revelation made him feel embarrassed, an expression he covered by taking a draught of the caffeinated soup.

“You are getting ready to go out though,” Rene observed gesturing to Tychon in his obvious work attire. A pair of muddy boots stood by the door along with a webbing belt of tools. Rene didn’t recall Tychon wearing it last night but then there had been rather alot going on. The other man nodded and set his now empty cup down.

“Aye, there are still collapsed houses we are searching, though honestly….” Tychon didn’t finish the sentence, but Rene understood that by this time, days after the storm had hit, it was obvious that few survivors were expected.

“Don’t worry ill be back to take you to the fluorine warehouse in a few hours,” Tychon assured him. Rene shook his head in dismissal.

“Do you need a hand?” he asked before he had time to think it through. His head turned unconsciously towards the bedroom where Solae slumbered. Tychon smiled as though he could read Rene like a book.

“Don’t worry she will be safe here,” Tychon assured him, then he gestured towards an open closet where two outfits more or less identical to the one he wore, hung on wooden hangers. Rene hesitated a moment in indecision. He didn’t want to leave Solae alone but if she were awake he knew what she would tell him to do. After a moment he crossed and grabbed one of the sets of coveralls and changed into them drawing the zipper up over his own tan cotton shirt. Tychon wasn’t quite the same size as Rene but the garments were designed with versatility in mind. Stepping back into the guest room he transferred his pistol from his combat pants to one of the pockets on the borrowed garment and then scribbled a quick note to Solae, explaining that he was going with Tychon and would be back in a few hours. He left one of the small communicators atop the note, preset to the frequency they were using. Crossing to the sleeping marquessa he kissed her lightly on the forehead and then slipped out to join in the rescue effort.

The scale of the destruction was greater than Rene had realised. The darkness and rain of the night before had done alot to conceal the reality of the storm ravaged settlement. In the cold light of day Rene could see that few structures had escaped the destruction completely. Many roofs had been torn off by the howling winds and most houses had smashed windows or cracked masonry where they had been struck by flying debris. The streets were littered with a mixed detritus of building material and shattered trees. Here and there a wheeled vehicle was parked, mostly small trucks or other transports but few people on San Roayo seemed to own personal vehicles.

Closer to the strand the damage was worse. The buildings here were almost universally in ruins, smashed piles of synthetic sheeting and structural beams. The roads themselves, composed of crushed coral, sand and plasticized stabilizing agent were torn into chunks where water had been forced beneath them by the wind. Here and there a water main leaked with a slow gurgle, the pumps that would have made them geysers having been shut off or lost power. Tychon had spoken of the coral gathering fleets being ‘driven ashore’ earlier. Rene had assumed that he meant beached but barges more or less like the one in which they had crossed the straight lay scattered about in yards and on the street, carried up over the beach by the storm surge. Seaweed, sand, fishing nets and other refuse from the ocean marked where the waters had reached and anything much beyond that line was a hopeless ruin.

Gangs of men and women hand obviously been at work throughout the night. They formed lines beginning at the worst struck houses, carrying away rubble and debris and tossing it into large piles. Chemical lights on long poles had been thrust into the ground to provide illumination through the night and from the haggard and exhausted looks many had been at it for long hours. Here and there sat official looking vehicles, with ‘Gendarmerie’ stenciled on the sides. They were air cushioned jeeps rather than wheeled transports and Rene assumed they were what San Roayo had for police. The vehicles were universally unoccupied with the officers evidently having joined the rescue parties.

Tychon led him to where a group of men were working to clear debris from a smaller house. Several cutting bars shrieked as their diamond teeth sliced through structural beams to allow them to be carried away. The burning plastic of the cuts gave the whole thing an acrid chemical reek. Rene had been concerned with how Tychon would introduce him but he merely grunted that Rene was a friend of his from off the island and no one paid it any more attention.

“Do you think there are people still inside?” he asked Tychon as he helped shift a large slab of synthetic stone. The other man looked sombre.

“Doubtful, Madrig, that's the blond fellow over there, his wife was in the house when the storm hit, came back for some medication for her mother,” Tychon explained. Rene looked up and down the street at the devastation. Some houses were being left as they were, others were being worked on.

“We all worked crews together, those of us who have everyone accounted for…” Tychon made a sign with his hand that Rene presumed was a thanks to the universe, “we are working for those who are missing.” Rene nodded his understanding. There was nothing like an organized governmental response as yet, just neighbours helping neighbours. Even if it wasn’t actively involved in the rebellion, the government on Panopontus must have dozens of islands like San Royao to consider.

“Have you scanned for life?” Rene asked as he took a structural timber from another man. Tychon frowned as though Rene were speaking an alien language.

“How do you mean?” he asked in evident confusion. Rene reached into his satchel and drew forth a pair of the multi-function goggles he had taken from the Bonaventure and clipped them over his eyes. Judging from Tychon’s shocked look this was high technology on San Roayo. The googles were able to amplify vision in a number of spectrum but Rene clicked the dial to infrared. The world became a mass of shifting blues and greens. The rain drops slanted across the view as cool cyan streaks where as the cutting bar blades glowed white. Rene hadn’t expected to find anything, but too his shock he saw the faint outline of a warm body shaped object in one of the corners of the house, slightly below the ground level in what must have once been a basement or a crawl space.

“There!” he pointed and pulling the googles free moved over to the excavated corner. Tychon followed him wordlessly and took the goggles from his hand as Rene took the cutting bar from one of the exhausted workers. The man looked angry but was too tired to offer much in the way of protest.

“Brace these beams,” Rene ordered and made a series of triangular cuts, lifting away flooring and collapsed wall. The man Tychon had identified as Madrig rushed over, his face a mask of anger and grief, but Thycon merely held out a hand to prevent him from interfering. In a few minutes Rene had cut away enough of the flooring to reveal a middle aged woman. She was unconscious and blood was congealed on her face where she had been struck by something but her chest still rose and fell in shallow breaths.

“She is alive!” Madrig shouted and jumped into the space with another man to lift the woman free, passing her muddy form up to the men who gathered around the hole. She would need medical attention but Rene thought she would live. Tychon pressed the goggles to his face and swore.

“By the seas! These things can actually see through the rubble?!” he demanded. Madrig enfolded Rene in a hug before he could respond, tears of relief ran down his face as he thanked him effusively. Rene bore it awkwardly, his aristocratic upbringing didn’t give him much comfort with such physicality.

“It won't help if someone is already dead or if they are buried too deep….” but Tychon wasn’t listening instead he thrust the goggles back to Rene.

“Come with me, we will scan the other houses,” he declared and set off down the street towards the next gang.

“Where did you get such a device?” One of the other men asked in wonder. Rene realised too late that he might have made a mistake in revealing what to him was fairly simple technology but was obviously far ahead of what the locals had to hand. He cursed himself for having exposed Solae to additional risk, but what could he do?

“I was a crewman on a starship,” Rene said, thinking quickly, “just sort of ended up in my kit I guess.”

Sunlight was beginning to peek through the sheets of fabric draped over the guest bedroom's singular window in makeshift curtains. As errant streams pierced through the gaps and dappled her eyelids Solae stirred restlessly. The night had been kind to her once she had been able to drift off to sleep. Though she could not remember any of her dreams, she had the faint recollection that they had been pleasant, and she was grateful that she awoke much more refreshed than if she had been plagued by nightmares of New Concordia. Rubbing the crust forming at the edges of her eyes she rolled over to feel if Rene had joined her. Unsurprisingly the other side of the bed was immaculate and untouched. Solae was mildly disappointed even if this had been expected; as a woman in love she wanted her fiance to crave her proximity and touch as much as she craved his. Perhaps he had been afraid to wake her or anxious about the tasks ahead of them.

Sitting up and throwing aside the covers she began to pull her discarded clothing closer to her. Julia had encouraged her to undress before climbing into bed so that everything would be dry by daybreak. Her blouse had obviously seen better days but had neither shrunk nor stretched as a result of the dip in the ocean. By contrast her pants felt a bit slimmer than she remembered but she had unintentionally been on a diet by failing to eat the lavish meals the aristocracy typically enjoyed. She was uncertain if her mother would be proud or disappointed with this knowledge. The marquise slid into both, idly brushed them free of salt and sand, and started to make her way out the door before she spotted a note on the nightstand.

Solae let out an exasperated sigh. For as much as Rene protested being labeled a hero he was, without question, a more stalwart defender of virtuous principals than most men alive. She could almost hear his objections to being compared to the paragons of humanity and fealty to the Stellar Empire that had given his lineage title. Somehow she doubted all of them would have leapt at the chance to selflessly help rescue impoverished citizens from their rubble homes without any chance of recognition or sizeable reward. The diplomat both admired his courage, conviction, and morality, and resented that it meant he neglected himself often. When he returned she would give him a kiss and then chastise him for pushing himself so relentlessly; after all, a Rene that was injured from overexertion couldn't render aid to anyone.

"Good morning!" Julia called out as Solae entered the kitchen. Damaris was seated at the table, swinging her long legs, and humming an unfamiliar children's tune. The faint aroma of stir-fried vegetables and fish filled the room. At first blush this was an odd choice for a morning meal but upon reflection other staples of breakfast would be scarce. What livestock San Royao had were almost certainly killed, fruit trees were toppled, and most grains drowned by the fury of the typhoon. She predicted many months filled with more seafood in the resident's diet than even they were used to.

"Good morning Julia, Damaris," Solae greeted politely. "Julia, by any chance do you have a scarf I could borrow?"

This question caught the other woman off-guard. Glancing behind her at the noblewoman she quickly moved the skillet off the stove, pushed around the julienned vegetables and chunks of fish fillet with a flat spoon made of bamboo, and wrung her hands in a dish rag. Damaris sensed the concern in her mother's face and stopped her ditty to glance back and forth. Solae tried to give a reassuring smile but Julia was no fool- she had already deduced this request meant she had an intention to go outside even after she had declared it would be dangerous if she was spotted.

"I do, but... Miss Solae, could you please tell me why you need it?" she asked. Trying to appear casual she motioned for Damaris to come to the stove and fetched her a small, worn clay plate from the cupboard. The dinnerware was not a mass-produced design from a distant factory, but rather had the hallmarks of something made locally. Trade routes on Panopontus were not exclusively for off-world imports and exports.

"Rene went with Tychon to help look for survivors. I know the risks, but I can't bring myself to sit here and wait the hour, two hours, or more that it will take for them to return. What they are doing is important, but I think it would the best use of my time to go to the communications center and get the information we need," she explained smoothly and in an even tone that she knew to be persuasive.

"Are you sure that's wise? I wouldn't want you to..." Julia started as she fretted. Solae was not related to her in any way but she still considered the aristocratic lady part of her family. Years from now she, Damaris, and Tychon would remember the two strangers that had saved a life and patched them back together when the circumstances were the most grim. It was only natural she'd worry over this risky proposition to which there were vague allusions to negative consequences if not executed perfectly.

"Please, Julia. I won't ask you to go with me, but this is something I feel I must do. To be honest with you, I'd be of no real help to Rene right now doing what he is doing because I lack his strength, and he would not be able to truly help me research at the communications center. I have spent far more time in front of a console looking for data and documents than he has. Does it not make sense for us to each utilize our independent skills when we are apart? All I need is a scarf and some directions," she promised.

Julia still looked wary but she could also spot the stubborn streak in the linguist that was a figurative mile wide. Sighing in resignation (which sounded quite like the sigh of exasperation Solae had for Rene earlier) she instructed Damaris to eat before the food got cold and wandered down the hallway that joined the bedrooms to the rest of the residence. Several minutes passed with the dark-haired youth staring at Solae in wide-eyed wonder and admiration. To the adolescent it was terrifying and amazing she had won an 'argument' with her mother and was going to waltz into the city alone. Suddenly the marquise was wondering if this was a poor life lesson she was teaching the impressionable youth still convinced she was a princess.

"I know that face. Maybe I won't be able to change your mind, but I won't let you go alone either. Damaris, finish quickly and put on your shoes when you're done," Julia announced as she strode back into the kitchen with a linen scarf that was green, grey, and tinged with accents of a deep coral. Before a retort could form in Solae's mind both peasants were preparing themselves for the jaunt downtown. Damaris was shoveling food into her mouth more quickly than she could have possibly imagined and the matriarch of the household was cleaning the cooling pan so that nothing would spoil while they were away. Just as Solae had been ready to defy instructions to hide in the tiny dwelling's protection so too were they ready to defy her resistance to being joined by their company. In political circles the title of marquise would have empowered her to order without a chance of defiance yet she was impotent when among the commonfolk.

To complete her disguise Solae stepped outside and splashed some of the muddy storm water onto her face and hands. It would not completely conceal her unnatural beauty under intense scrutiny but it would help her blend into the populace as a whole. Her pallid and smooth complexion was darker, dirty, and at a distance appeared to have minor blemishes. Satisfied with the effects provided by nature's bounty she then wrapped the scarf around her head, tucking in every stray golden hair visible, and used the loose end to cover her nose and mouth. For Panopontus this was strange garb unless the individual in question was ill and trying to avoid spreading a contagious virus. This was precisely the ploy that the noblewoman hoped to achieve; people would not want to engage her if they thought there was a possibility they would be infected. Once Solae had met a duke and duchess who had bragged endlessly about the enhancements to their immune system only to later reveal their paranoia about the prevalence of the common cold. By the the time the couple was excited from the diginitary's dinner they were attending they were hysterical about a 'plague' that was relatively benign and they were exceedingly unlikely to fall victim to given their genetic history.

"Now, you stay beside me, you understand? I'll do all the talking," Julia commanded.

The trio used alleys, side roads, and walked through yards to avoid as many people as possible, not that it was necessary; San Royao was a barren wasteland. The farther they progressed downtown the more buildings that were standing, but it was clear that nearly everyone was devoted to efforts to aid their neighbors on the coastline. Of the eleven that she spotted in the half-hour of ducking behind stone walls and jumping over overflowing drainage pipes, seven were elderly, one was a nursing mother, two were pregnant, and one was a man with a pronounced limp that was trying to help his wife hang laundry on the remnants of a fence.

While there were town and city ordinances giving guidelines to builders and homeowners as to how they ought to construct their homes, the Stellar Empire was much more strict regarding official imperial outposts. After terraforming was completed, if necessary, only the most durable materials were imported to each planet and utilized to erect buildings such as the communication center they now sought. To use inferior stone or alloys would have been a sign of weakness and that was not an image the empress, or the emperor before her, could afford to portray. This identical design was seen as excessive in almost every situation but proved invaluable after a natural disaster of the hurricane's magnitude. The exterior had been worn down and exposed in some places but the typhoon had been more more ineffective against the core official imperial buildings than any other. There was absolutely no evidence that their integrity had been compromised, though this made Solae anticipate a challenge: security protocol would still be intact and invoking her authorization code in front of Julia and Damaris was a gamble.

"Julia, I have only deep gratitude for your help, but it's not necessary to proceed any further," she whispered as they rounded a corner that was directly adjacent to the street on which the communication center resided. Damaris inched forward to look for guards or law enforcement that might be posted at the entrance.

"All clear! I bet everyone is helping Papa," she beamed with a toothy grin of pride.

"Nonsense. We've come this far and we don't know if there is anyone inside yet," Julia chided Solae lightly. Clucking her tongue she adjusted the scarf, tucking lockets that had come loose back behind the fabric, and looked her 'guest' in the eyes with a warm expression. "It might have been used as a shelter during the storm. Lucky for you I know everyone in San Royao, and there's no one that will be shooing out the princess that saved my daughter. Come on, staying here won't get us what you need!"

Straightening up Julia stepped forward, Damaris trailing behind her on her heels, and Solae chewed on the inside of her cheek. Summoning some of the courage that had kept her alive thus far she tugged on her head covering and shuffled after them, praying to deities of every mythos that this little quest didn't end as poorly as the one launched on the slaver's plantation. She recalled all too well how she had narrowly escaped death several times over during that escapade and she had no desire for a repeat performance with two innocent, wonderful, caring bystanders that could be caught in the crossfire.

Rene shoved against one of the concrete beams as three other men hauled on a makeshift pulley line. There was grinding of stone on stone as the friction broke and the great block of stone began to rise, showering grit wich Rene did his best to keep from his eyes with a raised hand. There was a curious flash of dejavu as he remembered how he and Bowie had helped the farmer on New Concordia free his oxen from the rice paddy. That act of charity had saved Rene’s life now that he thought about it. What could have driven the beast into the water in the first place? He would certainly never know, nor, he supposed did it much matter. A small void opened as the beam rose revealing a sniveling young woman and a child of perhaps four years of age. Both were so coated with mud and grit that they appeared almost alien to Rene’s eyes.

“Your safe,” he declared, “can you climb through?” Above him the beam began to slowly rotate seeking the neutral point on its new found fulcrum. The woman looked up at him, her face was caked with dirt save for thin lines that tears had drawn through the grime. Unsteadily she came to her feet and passed the child through to Rene, who took the boy and passed him up to other waiting hands. The woman reached out and took his hand and began to climb through when there was a sudden shout of alarm and a twanging of parting wires. Someone shouted a warning but Rene jerked the woman free with a strength that might have dislocated her arms. She screamed in pain but cleared the area a second before the cable gave out completely and several hundred kilos crashed down. Rene spun, putting his back to the shower of concrete chips that lashed him and jumped as far clear as he was able.

“Rene?! You ok?” Tychon yelled and strong hands seized him and the girl hauling them out of the ruined house by main force.

“Yeah, yes, I’m fine,” Rene assured the coral gatherer as he was unceremoniously dumped on the grass beside the ruined house. A wet cloth was shoved into his hands and he gratefully wiped his face clean. Dirt and mud caked his body and, though the temperature was moderate, he was sweating from his exertions. It was nearly mid day and the rain had stopped, though not enough for the sun to be any more than a bright spot in the grey cloud coverage.

“Here, Drink.” Tychon commanded, thrusting a canteen full of water into his hands. Rene drank greedily, allowing the cool clear filtered water to run down over his chin and onto his chest. The fifteen men who formed the ‘crew’ that Tychon was leading all looked exhausted, though Rene doubted that even a marine platoon could have worked harder than they had this morning. With the aid of the goggles they had pulled a half dozen survivors from the ruined houses using little more than the strength of their hands and a few old winches.

“That's everyone accounted for on this street,” Tychon said with a somber note in his voice. Most of the men working here were friends and associates of his, and these houses had been their homes. More than one man was morning the loss of a family member, though like Tychon had done when Damaris had been among those presumed lost they buried the pain and worry in the work. At Tycon’s suggestion Rene had given his goggles to one of the younger men so that he could scan other houses. The device was a fairly simple one and there were others aboard the Bonaventure, but they might well save lives here.

“So where next?” Rene asked. Tychon shook his head and lay a restraining hand on Rene’s shoulder as he tried to rise.

“That's it for now, you push yourself too hard and you will break, it is the wisdom of the sea,” Tychon said. They had been at if for several hours and as he looked around Rene could see that the men were mostly played out. Even he, blessed with genetic augmentation and a history of brutal physical training couldn’t go on like this indefinitely.

“Let’s go clean up, then we can see about your fluorine,” Tychon suggested, clasping Rene’s forearm and helping him to his feet.

“The seas know you have earned it.”

The seaward section of San Roayo was, paradoxically, in better condition than the more inland ares Rene had seen. The buildings here were constructed large of concrete and prefab industrial polymers that had withstood the surge of the sea better than the flimsier structures had dealt with the wind. The structures, mostly one or two story workshops or warehouses, were scuffed and battered by debris but Rene doubted they had been much to look at before the storm either. The streets were littered with seaweed and stank of rotting fish, many of which were visible among the detritus, buzzing with flies. The fish life here appeared to be four eyed with four sets of fins spaced around the body, though Rene was no naturalist to judge such things. There were people around, but few of them were on the streets, mostly they seemed to be proprietors or workers who were in the process of cleaning up the damage to their businesses, or perhaps merely preventing looters from helping themselves.

The building they were looking for was only a block back from the waterfront. Masses of barges had been driven onto the numerous docks and jetties and formed a barrier of debris and shattered timbers. Rene supposed that the boats would be refloated once the more immediate rescue work had finished. Perhaps by then help would arrive from the planetary authorities, or perhaps, with the Eastern Cross in rebellion, they people would be left to fend for themselves. Even if the Duke’s rebellion were put down tomorrow resentments like this would linger for years or decades. It irritated Rene, who, despite everything, remained a child of the aristocracy, that even an Imperial victory wouldn’t be complete.

AV-GAS, proclaimed by a large sign suspended above the doorway, was a shabby looking place. A small office was appended to a large warehouse building that seemed mostly devoted to housing a mass of pipes and tanks that were visible through tears in the metalized sheeting that served the place for walls. A large loading dock shelted what appeared to be a forklift and a pair of large trucks, both clearly damaged by the floodwater. Large portable cylinders for gas transport were scattered around in haphazard piles which Rene hoped where the result of after the fact scavenging rather than any normal habit of stowage.

The interior of the office was grimy and dark. Several chemical luminators had been stuck to the wall and an unpleasant looking bald man with tattoos on his arms brooded behind a large metal counter. The walls were covered with pornography which had been pinned up wherever calendars and tide charts didn’t already occupy. It ranged from the obscene to the unbelievable but Rene imagined that it had long ago lost its shock value for anyone who came here regularly. An ashtray filled the room with smoke for the remains of a half dozen cigarettes of a type Rene couldn’t identify. There was an automated dispensing machine, covered in bright advertising slogans, in one corner, though without power its many lights were out and it looked dead and lifeless. The proprietary was watching a broadcast on a portable screen about a meter wide that he had wired up to a portable power source. It was similar to what Julia had been using to monitor the missing persons lists when Solae and Rene had first met her, though it was of better quality and clearly less well cared for.

“Tychon,” the tattooed man grunted in a tone without much warmth. His beady eyes flicked suspiciously to Rene but he made no comment about the presence of the stranger.

“Heard your daughter had been swept out to sea,” the fellow said, placing his arms on the counter and leaning forward. Tychon smilled, unaware or simply to relieved at Damaris’ safe return to notice the cruelty with which the comment was delivered.

“Safe and sound praise the seas Vitger!” Tychon told him with a broad smile.

“But that isn’t what we are here about, we need to buy some fluorine,” Tychon explained, pointing to Rene to make the ‘we’ clear. Vitger narrowed his eyes at this pronouncement.

“I got some in the tanks, but what do you need it for? Surely you don’t have coral you need to treat?” he asked shrewdly. Rene shrugged his shoulders as if the matter was of little consequence. He drew forth a few Imperial credit chips each worth several dozen Soldaei. Rene didn’t know what the daily wage was on Panopontus but he was willing to bet that the credit chips represented a fortune. The greedy glitter in Vitgers eyes told him he was correct.

“I need about 250 litres, with a 6h or 7h delivery system,” Rene explained. Vitger nodded, picking up the chip and examining it between thumb and forefinger.

“We can work with that, how are you planning on moving it?” the merchant asked. His eyes ficked between the pair of men and his view screen and Rene frowned. Something about this was starting to make him uncomfortable.

“Thaddeus has a barge he will loan me,” Tychon said, referring to one of the men they had helped dig out of the ruins earlier in the day.

“He had his barge out for maintenance when this all happened,” Tychon explained, as though the matter were any clear to Rene. Vitger nodded though it appeared to Rene that he wasn’t really listening.

“Ok head out back and grab the dolly will you?” he directed Tychon. The boatman nodded and turned to head through a door sectioned off by hanging strips of plastic sheeting. Rene was very fast his hand went for the gun he had in his hip pocket but Vitger had been ready. WIth a yell of fear he pulled a needle stunner from behind the desk and fired a half dozen rounds in the space of a heart beat. Even so, only two of them hit Rene, one in the breast and one in the upper thigh. The crystalline metallic darts pulsed reversing polarity with the speed of a strobe light. Powerful electrical currents ripped through Rene body sending him sprawling to the floor in spastic contractions. Pure luck stopped him from biting his own tongue. Tychon spun in the doorway just in time to catch his own spray of needles and be sent twitching to the floor. Rene flooped nervelessly on the ground as the grinning Vitger came out from behind the counter. In one hand he held the stunner and in the other the vid screen. Rene had just enough time to make out a picture of himself and Solae with the words: Dangerous Rebels, Reward Offered, before Vitgers boot crashed into his head, and he knew only blackness.

The trio proceeded through front doors composed of heavy translucent synthetic composite that was more durable than the building materials for either the framing or the exterior walls. When Solae had fled the embassy she briefly caught sight of one such door still intact despite the multiple missiles that had left the rest of the structure in ruins. A superior once had told her it was one of the empire's psychological tricks; people assumed a clear surface was more fragile than one that was opaque, especially if the latter had the appearance of stone or alloy. When the general public tested and realized the strength of one silly door that was so unremarkable visually, they would (mistakenly) assume that the rest of the building was indestructible. The marquise had never cared for mind games of the bureaucracy but she had to concede it was very pragmatic. Under normal circumstances official outposts could have a welcoming entry way that signified the 'openness' of the Stellar Empire without compromising security, while at the same time bypassing a need to fortify every wall ten times over and driving up costs.

The communications center was unlocked and unguarded, but it took little time to understand why. The austere three-story building had become an unofficial meeting place for the myriad of San Roayo residents whose homes were destroyed by the typhoon. In the wake of their personal losses they sought not only shelter but information as to the known deceased and missing. A front reception desk was unmanned though it was unclear if it was because the employees who ordinarily sat there were casualties of the hurricane themselves, deployed to other areas of the island, or if they had simply decided that their job's protocol was no longer necessary. One small group, perhaps a family or the remnants of one, had pulled together the abandoned chairs and were quietly dozing in the empty space. The cluster was positioned directly next to a console that Solae knew to connect with other offices on the upper floors.

"This way," Julia whispered. The diplomat had failed to divulge that she had been in a very similar center, as the layout was identical on most planets, and let the middle-aged woman lead the way. With Damaris trailing behind as she looked about with wide-eyed wonder, they passed under an archway on the left, through a hallway with elevators decorated with abstract art meant to be as inoffensive as possible, and into a large room that compromised at minimum half of the first floor.

"It's huge!" the young girl gasped in delight.

Strewn all around were the survivors of the storm. Blankets, sheets, and other linens had been laid upon the floor in makeshift beds for adults and children alike. Long tables with integrated built in consoles, bolted to the ground for stability and to prevent theft, were arranged in rows perpendicular to the entrances to the room. Each console functioned as an access point for members of the populace who might utilize this room for its library or the transmission of mundane messages unable to be sent from their domiciles. These communal stations were at present largely ignored in favor of the screens on the north, east, and western walls that were vividly displaying the only broadcast anyone cared to watch: updates from rescue efforts across the continent. Those not starting at the names presented in high definition were murmuring to one another in sombre conversation, busying themselves with a quiet game or task, or napping if trauma had not made them insomniacs.

"This will take a while," Solae warned Julia, "I understand if you'd like to -"

"We're not leaving you here by yourself," was the quick retort. The tone of Julia's voice made it clear her decision was not subject to further discussion. "There are many people that could use a sympathetic ear or a shoulder to cry on here, and I've told you we know nearly everyone. You get the information you need and take as long as you like. Damaris and will make ourselves sociable. It's better than holing ourselves up in our home by ourselves."

"If you're certain," Solae agreed reluctantly.

"Come on, Damaris, I think I see Mr. and Mrs. Vasho over there," Julia declared with a warm parting smile. She proceeded further into the room and, even at a distance, the marquise could both hear and see one of the groups near the western wall exchange greetings before they embraced one another. Damaris bounced on her feet and loudly declared she bet that school would be cancelled for weeks as a result of the devastation. An elderly gentleman nearby started to guffaw that the first thing that came to mind for the raven-haired adolescent was freedom from lessons and homework.

With a sigh Solae tugged on the scarf concealing her hair and made her way to the nearest table as casually as possible. Fortunately no consoles were presently occupied with the exception of a pair near the opposite side of the room. She sat herself at a station directly opposite the main entryway so that the privacy partition would obscure her face from new arrivals. While a few people glanced her way, none were visibly suspicious about her identity. A stranger might have attracted more attention in other circumstances, but grief mitigated idle curiosity, and those who wished to be left alone were being granted the space to mourn. Solae's strategic placement limited who might be able to wander by without her notice; there were no citizens in proximity as gravitated towards the outskirts where there was unobstructed space and the wall screens. Solae prayed this buffer would be sufficient to keep her machinations secret.

The backlit console was almost as old as the marquise. Even though it was outdated, the interface was more user friendly than the units at the embassy, which had been produced for communications professionals with the luxury of an entire department dedicated to assisting them in navigating connected networks. Solae had the expertise necessary for a more complicated system but she was relieved that it was not required. After all their poor luck it was nice to have anything small working in their favor and making a task easier rather than more challenging. She activated the touch pad and her fingers glided across the screen as she keyed in her credentials. The console was too rudimentary for multiple tiers of security authorization. Fortunately this meant she would not have to announce her full name and status for vocal validation as was the case with the slaver's estate. After providing an identification number and three passwords she was given clearance to every archive available at this center.

Solae quickly lost track of time. Undoubtedly Julia realized it would not take over an hour to locate information for Rene's father, yet she did not interrupt, wander over, or question what the 'princess' was really doing that was so consuming. The external storage stick that Solae had brought with her and plugged into the console was not large enough for everything she wanted. Arguably this was because she was casting such a wide net: she was seeking every record, every transaction, every memo, every news article, every statistic, every negligible digital bit of evidence even tangentially related to three noble families. She was forced to compress files before copying them to her portable device, which meant not only was she taking the time to locate all the information she believed merited further review, she had to wait for it to be shrunk in size and then transferred. More than once the diplomat begrudgingly admitted to herself this investigation was overly ambitious.

She had nearly finished and was combing through business contracts of Rene's distant cousins when there was the soft ping of a new transmission. For the past couple hours she had been planted at the console updates for the deceased and missing list had been operating in the background silently. This notification meant that there was an incoming broadcast. Her digits momentarily froze where they hovered half an inch above the smooth surface of the screen. Her worst fears were realized when she selected the alert and maximized it on her screen. It took all of her considerable composure and training not to devolve into a hysterical mess. She had no weapon, no means to defend herself, and she was surrounded by people who not only had no loyalty to her, but were desperate beyond measure for any monetary relief that might help them reclaim their lives.

It was too late to keep the bounty from being seen.

Her mind was racing so quickly she fumbled over executing the various commands she was rapidly inputting. While Solae could not undo what had already been done, she had the unique chance to lessen the impact. The first course of action was keeping the alert from been displayed on the walls that everyone else in the room were attentively watching. Once she had pulled it from circulation, she decided to throw a proverbial 'Hail Mary.' The linguist hurriedly added a clause that both Rene and herself had to be turned in together for any reward to be paid. This was not true, of course, but it would help protect either of them from being independently captured and traded to the coup's armies with expectation of compensation. Secondly, she changed both of the photos for anyone who had not already burned their faces into memory. For Rene she chose a photo of a marine of his approximate likeness but who had died two years ago. For herself she substituted in a picture of the Duke's niece when she had been going through a phase that culminated in dying her hair a soft silver.

Solae was banking on the fact no one was monitoring the bounty notices after they were distributed. There was no expectation that anyone would alter them, and even if they did anticipate her intervention, they would need to send someone to Panopontus before they could determine the extent of her creative editing. Her hands were shaking as she pressed a few buttons in succession, sending the revised notice back through the planetary network. Rene. She had to find Rene. She had to leave the communications center as soon as possible and find a way to flee to another world. They had tarried too long here and now it was just another deathtrap regardless of her efforts.

Yanking the storage stick out of the console she stood and, with a wave to Julia, started towards the exit.

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@Syrenrei
Pain woke Rene into darkness. The air was close and muggy and tinged with some acrid chemical residue. It took him a moment to realise he was laying on his back and he pushed himself up, ignoring the dull throbbing that spread across his chest. The front of his tunic was crusted with dried blood which had oozed from the punctures the needles had made. Something, probably electrical wire, bound his hands behind his back and bound his feet together. Some attempt had been made to gag him, but by working his jaw he was able to clear his mouth. The darkness was absolute enough that even Rene’s genetically enhanced vision couldn’t pierce it. There was a thumping sound somewhere nearby, unmistakabley that of a body hitting a hard surface.

“Thycon?” Rene croaked, his voice unexpectedly hoarse and raw from breathing in whatever chemical laced the air here.

“Rene?” came back Thycon’s voice, similarly cracked and croaking, “Seas, I thought he had killed you.”

“Can’t say I am feeling great but I’m still alive,” Rene said, tugging uselessly at the bonds that held his arms.

“Do you know where we are?” he asked, flexing his calves to try and pull his boots apart. While the bonds were tight, the combat boots he had wearing were dense enough to prevent the wired from digging into his flesh.

“We are in a fluorine transport container,” Thycon responded. That explained the chemical stink of the place.The containers made excellent improvised prisons, there was one exit, the main door, and they were sealed from the outside. They also had ventilation systems to prevent a build up of pressurised gas that would otherwise burst them open. At least they didn’t have to worry about suffocating.

“Rene, or whatever your name is, I think its time you told me what is going on,” Thycon commanded, his fear beginning to transmute to anger.

“Vitger had pictures of you and Solae, claiming you were some sort of rebels. Is that how you came to be hiding out on the island?” Thycon demanded. Rene couldn’t see him but he sensed the man had turned from his futile pounding to glare in his direction.

“We aren’t rebels,” Rene responded distractedly. He needed to get out of here. Whoever was in charge on New Concordia had obviously pulled his image from official files. That implied an impressive intelligence capability, he didn’t think he had been seen with Solae by anyone who was still alive, safe for the Shyshin whom he was sure wouldn’t have talked. They must have gone back to the Rat Trap and figured it out by process of elimination. Fear kindled in his heart, not for himself but for Solae, he couldn’t leave her out there alone. Flexing his legs he strained his muscles, pressing the soles of his feet together. Blood thundered in his temples as he heaved at the wire and, at last it parted with a twang.

“Who are you then?” Thycon pressed. Rene stood up, ignoring the sudden wave of nausea that washed over him and moved towards Thycon’s voice. Rather to his surprise Rene told him. Starting with the attack on New Concordia he told the fisherman everything that had happened, the attack at the Rat Trap and the Embassy, meeting Solae, their time with the Syshin and their arrival on Panopontus. He wasn’t precisely sure why he told the other man the truth, perhaps he felt guilty for getting him into this situation, perhaps it merely felt good to get it all out in the open. When he was done Tychon was left in stunned silence.

“So its true then, what Damaris said, she really is a princess,” Tycon said wonderingly. Rene nodded though the gesture was invisible in the darkness.

“That she is,” Rene responded. He had to get out of here, he couldn’t leave Solae out there alone with the whole planet looking for her. There was no way to know how long he had been unconcious. Suddenly he felt Thycon’s fingers on his they moved questingly up to the wire that bound his wrist and began to search for the knot that secured it.

“We work at night, you have to be able to handle a rope in the dark,” Thycon explained, “How did you get your feet free?”

“My boots,” Rene explained, “he really should have taken them off or at least bound me above them.” Thycon grunted in reply, his fingers finding something, the wire around Rene’s wrist tightened painfully as the fisherman’s tugging used up what little slack there was but he didn’t complain.

“Vitger is a real spawn of a sewer pipe,” Thycon said, cursing as he lost his grip and began the task anew.

“He is Palack’s worthless son-in-law.” Rene tried to shrug his shoulders but Tycon’s firm grip on the wire prevented the geusture.

“Palack is the man who I told you owed me,” Tychon went on, as though it had occurred to Rene to wonder. Now that he bought it up Rene recalled that Tychon said he had pulled the owners brother from the rubble. Belatedly he realised that this was Tychons way of apologizing for having gotten them caught.

“Look I’m sorry I got you into this,” he said. The wire parted with a sudden twang and blood rushed painfully back into Rene’s fingers.

“If it wasn’t for the two of you my daughter would be lost or dead,” Tychon said simply. Rene felt a lump form in his throat at the simple force of the statement. Few men would be so blase about danger or so apparently uncaring about reward, mentally he promised himself that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Tychon or his family. With his hands free Rene began to free his companions feet.

“So you were a soldier,” Tychon said after a moment, “Do you have a plan for getting out of here?”

Rene unwound the wire and began to work on Tychon’s hands. He considered the question thinking back to his escape and evasion training. It was unlikely the door could be broken down and certainly not without attracting attention. That meant waiting for the door to open and then jumping whoever opened it. If it was Vitger alone, they had a chance, if it was a squad of Gids or police, it wasn’t going to go well. Rene figured he would try it anyway, better to be shot attempting an escape than to be taken alive.

“Not much of one,” Rene admitted, “But I’m working on it.”

"What's wrong?" Julia asked as she emerged from the communication center's rear emergency exit a few minutes after Solae had. Damaris skipped behind and let the thick alloy door close behind them. It hissed as it electronically sealed shut per standard protocol. The only way into governmental buildings were the disarmingly strong translucent doors, but they were required to have multiple exits for safety reasons, and thus any means of departing such a structure had mechanisms to ensure it was not misused. While they could see where the door that closed behind them was, there was no handle on the exterior, it possessed no visible lock, and it was manufactured to be airtight unless propped open.

"You're in danger," the marquise declared as she paced. The ground had been composed of broken seashells ground into a gravel-like texture, but most of it had been washed away by the typhoon, leaving a thick dense mud and scraggly bits of grass that had evaded the attention of landscaping. Very few people wandered around the back of the building and those that did probably cared little about appearances.

"In danger?" Julia asked with obvious confusion. "Please, tell me what is wrong. I'm sure there is something we can do to help-"

"No, no, you don't understand," Solae said shaking her head emphatically. Damaris, who was still behind her mother, was starting to look scared. The noblewoman inhaled sharpy, fought internally to gain some semblance of composure, and exhaled slowly. Frightening a young girl who ought not to be tangled up in the tragedy of a coup in the first place was paramount. "Let's go back to your home. I'll explain on the way," she promised diplomatically.

"Did you get what you needed then?" Julia asked. She was still concerned but, seeing as they were not somewhere private to discuss whatever sensitive matter troubled Solae, she recognized the need to relocate. Taking Damaris by the elbow she began to lead the way around the side of the communications center.

"Yes, thank you." More than anything Solae was glad something had gone to plan. They had been besieged by frustrating complications since New Concordia and this was a tangible victory. She'd need Mia's assistance and no small amount of time to analyze the data and look for clues and discernible patterns, but it was something she felt she could accomplish, something that played to her strengths rather than in spite of them. "Have you ever heard of Duke Alexis Tan?"

"I might have heard the name in passing, but I'm not really familiar with any dukes," Julia shrugged. They were cutting a path between abandoned storefronts as they progressed into more residential areas of the city. Most peasants didn't familiarize themselves with the aristocracy; there wasn't much of a point when no titled imperial would stoop so low as to mingle with the lower class. The only exception was if a lord or lady had a direct influence over their profession, their town, or a a situation in which they'd make a personal impact.

"He's..." Solae started, trying to find the best way to sanitize the news for Damaris's ears. Sooner or later the rebellion would spread to Panopontus, and the imperial citizens would have tragedy strike for a second time as they watched the fleeting stability of governance torn apart, but so long as she was the messenger of poor news she wanted to soften the blow. "He's made a move to create his own empire."

"What does that mean?" Damaris asked curiously. They jumped over a small creek in someone's back yard that was overflowing on account of all the recent precipitation. Julia had paled and fallen silent as she let the gravity of the words sink in. Both fortunately and unfortunately Damaris was too innocent to understand they were talking for war- and what the implications of a war were.

"It means that on the planet Rene and I came here from, New Concordia, Duke Tan wants to be in charge rather than the empress," Solae replied delicately.

"But I like the empress!" Damaris proclaimed. The Stellar Empire had come a long way in gender equality, yet on rural planets the culture tended to do a backslide into more traditional, conservative, and archaic customs. She strongly suspected the support Damaris had for the empress was because of what a strong role model she was for youth on these more patriarchal outliers. It was hard not to idolize what appeared to be a beautiful, wealthy, shrewd, and confident leader that strove for justice.

"I do too," Solae said with a smile, "which is why I didn't want to help Duke Tan. We landed here on our way to go tell the empress what Duke Tan is trying to do. He knows he's in a lot of trouble if the empress finds out, so he's trying to stop Rene and I from finding a way to send her a message, and that's why I have to hide what I look like. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Damaris said with a sigh. "Do you think Duke Tan knows you are here?"

"Not yet, but he is trying to find us before we get to the empress," the marquise replied slowly. Damaris furrowed her brows in thought. It wasn't until they reached the small one-story home that was their destination that the silence was broken. Like any rambunctious adolescent, Damaris exclaimed with relief they were finally home dramatically, as if they had been gone the entire day, and scampered off to her room. Solae similarly retreated to the guest bedroom but with an entirely different purpose in mind. With mounting paranoia she grabbed her transponder and tried to call for Rene. There was no response. Five, six, seven calls went unanswered which meant either he had lost his device, he was intentionally ignoring her for reasons unknown, or there was interference blocking his reception.

"Are you okay?" Julia inquired softly from the doorway. Solae picked up Rene's duffel bag and hauled it up onto the bed. She had no idea how he carried it so casually without being bothered by its weight; it was another testament to his strength and endurance that had had not made any complaints while shouldering it from where they had landed on the beach to here.

"They attacked everywhere at once. Rene's entire base was wiped out. He only survived because they didn't see him among the corpses. Everyone at the embassy I worked at died in front of my eyes and I ran but... everyone I knew was gone. They dragged people from their homes or murdered them outright. They put a bounty on my head, Julia, and are offering a reward if I'm captured alive. When we were at the center there was broadcast where they had found out about Rene, that we escaped together, and were calling us dangerous rebels. I need to find him. I changed the pictures they were using but there is still a chance he was recognized before I was able to..." she drifted off and her turned, meeting Julia's gaze. "You're safer without me, Julia. I can promise you I haven't hurt or killed anyone, and Rene only has defending us from criminals and killers, but I don't want anything to happen to you because you were seen with me."

"Solae..." Julia was at a loss. She believed that her guests were as virtuous as they proclaimed if only because they had saved her daughter and risked themselves to deliver her back to them, but had expected nothing in return. "Tychon probably took Rene to Vitger's for fuel. I can give you directions, but are you sure you should go alone? I can go by myself and find him for you."

"No, you stay here with Damaris. I'll find Rene and Tychon. If they come here without me let them know where I've gone, all right?" Julia's lips parted to voice another objection as the noblewoman opened the bag and withdrew a pistol. Solae grimaced and tucked it under her arm where it was partially concealed by her blouse before slipping the sack's strap over her opposite shoulder. It might be overkill to bring their small armory with her in addition to the supplies she had prepared, but she'd rather be overly cautious rather than under-equipped, the latter of which would be catastrophic.

"Please be careful, Solae," Julia worried. Solae gave the aging mother a hug, patted her on the arm reassuringly, and left for Vitger's before her courage dissolved.

“How can you stay so calm?” Tychon demanded. Rene opened his eyes though the interior of the container was still pitch black. The soldier was sitting leaning his head into a corner and dozing, a trick everyone learned during basic lest they suffer a mental breakdown from lack of sleep.

“Who says I’m calm,” Rene asked. Truthfully he was worried sick about what might be happening to Solae but if there was one thing you learned in the marines it was that no matter how much you worried or fretted, rest was not to be denied.

“I suppose they train you for this sort of thing?” the fisherman asked more to have something to do, and to hear a voice in the darkness than out of real curiosity.

“Not exactly,” Rene admitted but further conversation was interrupted by the rattle of metal against the outside of the container. Rene stood up and wrapped the wire loosely about his wrist. It was unlikely there had been time for anyone to reach them from off the island but time was difficult to judge in the darkness of the improvised prison cell.

“Keep out of the way and be ready to run for it when you can,” Rene whispered and squared his shoulders.

“Get back!” a voice Rene thought was Vitger’s sounded outside though he hadn’t heard the man speak enough to be sure.

“Get back against the back wall or I swear I will stun you both again. Rene shifted slightly though he didnt move all the way to the rear. Every inch was important for what he had planned, but it was a non starter if Vitger hosed the inside of the container with stunning needles because he felt threatened.

Blinding light seared Rene’s eyes as the door opened. It was mid afternoon and overcast besides but compared to the pitch black it might as well have been noon in the desert. Tychon cried out in pain but Rene merely squinted making out the dark shape of Vitger at the far end. His heart sank as he picked out the man against the brightness. The container was up off the ground, just over waist height on a man, presumably because it was on wheels of some sort, a factor he hadn’t considered.

“I’ll give you one chance,” Vitger growled. Rene’s eyes were adjusting quickly and he could clearly see the nervous man and his pointed stunner now.

“Tell me where the blonde bitch is and I’ll let you and Tychon go!”

Rene felt hot anger blaze in his chest but he fought the emotion down with some effort.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Vitger growled. He waggled the pistol in his hand in emphasis, a foolish and wasteful motion that added no threat save that it might accidentally go off.

“The bitch you are travelling with, information on you is worth something but she…” Vitger’s voice trailed off into a purr.

“It says here that any man that captures her will be made a baron and get her as well,” the lusty growl in his voice made the pulse in Rene’s forehead pulse like a trip hammer.

“I’ll be a bloody noble and i’ll be breeding blondie to boot!” he cackled gleefully.

“Even if I did know where she was, do you really think that Duke Alexis Tan is going to give the most powerful woman in the sector to a stinking peasant from who the fuck cares?” Rene asked with all the scathing aristocratic contempt of a dozen generations of Imperial nobility.

“It says so right..” Vitger began but as he opened his mouth Rene struck. He flicked his foot forward and the boot he had unlaced flew of the tip of his toes like a missle. It was slightly misaimed but it had the desired effect. Vitger yelped and shied away rather than emptying his weapon into the container. Rene was across the intervening floor like a flash. Vitger realising his mistake tried to slam the door shut. It was a foolish effort, he would have done better simply to roll away and shoot Rene as he cleared the container, but Vitger wasn’t a soldier trained to think that way. Rene hit the door with his full weight, aiming his shoulder opposite the hinges for maximum leverage. The door flew open smacking Vitger aside cursing and squealing in pain and shock. The needle stunner chattered out a short burst but it was Vitgers finger clampinging on the trigger rather than an aimed shot. The metalized ceiling rang with the needle impacts like a distant bell. Rene tumbled from the back of the container, hitting the floor hard despite his attempt to roll. Coarse concrete cut his palms and scraped his shoulder as he sprawled ungainly across the floor. He was inside the metal walled warehouse he had seen on the way in, a half dozen long white containers, identical to the one he had been held captive in stood on integral wheel rigs.

Ten meters away Vitger struggled to his feet, his lips bleeding profusely and with an ugly pressure cut across his left arm. The Panoponti aimed his weapon, for a wonder the stunner was still in his hand, at Rene and fired but the marine was already diving behind the nearest container. Stunner needles clattered of the side of the container and Vitger screamed a curse. Rene dashed to a bench against the wall and snatched up a heavy wrench as the nearest he could find to a weapon. There was a scream and another burst of needle fire followed by the sound of a body hitting the concrete. Rene dashed back down between two containers flattening himself against the side of of one of them to present a smaller target.. Tychon lay on the concrete, body twitching spasmodically from the stunner needles. Vitger stood over him point the little weapon down at the fallen man. The fisherman must have tried to rush Vitger rather than abandon Rene which was both admirable and foolish.

“Come out with your hands in the air!” Vitger roared.

“Or I swear i'll put a half dozen needles into his face!” It was a foolish threat to make as nintey nine times out of a hundred it would have failed. Still, you only had to be right once. Rene vacillated with indecision, unable to abandon Tychon and unwilling to give himself up and thrust leave Solae at risk.
“You have three seconds!” Vitger shouted.

Solae had nearly reached the building that Julia had told her functioned as a storefront for Vitger's sales. There was no one lingering around this section of town, efforts diverted elsewhere to rescue efforts and combing through rubble for what belongings and supplies could be salvaged, which made her even more uneasy than if it had been densely populated. When she was at the community center she had been fearful that her face would be recognized and a greedy mob would assault her. Now that she was in relative isolation she was paranoid of something far worse: that she would be attacked by a deviant and dragged off with no one the wiser. For reassurance she pulled out the pistol that had been tucked under her side and into the waistband of her pants. It felt impossibly heavy no matter how she gripped it, though she was absolutely certain it was the responsibility of carrying such a weapon that psychologically gave it the weight she imagined.

A short burst of clanging noises rang out from the warehouse she was passing. The noblewoman paused and held her breath so as to hear better. Not even a second latter she heard a demand from a foreign voice for someone- she could only assume it was Rene unless there were multiple bounties secretly in circulation- to come out with their hands in the air. She quickly and quietly skipped up to the door, eased it open silently, slipped inside, and then closed it just as carefully. Her shoulders ached from carrying the bag containing her soldier lover's personal armory but she dared not to leave it behind. Were her rescue to fail, or she killed, planting a parcel full of deadly weapons where Vitger could easily discover them was a recipe for disaster.

"ONE!" Vitger shouted from further inside.

Little did he know how he was guiding the armed marquise to his and Rene's location. Solae jogged around a white freight container that had obscured her from view on entry. Taking a deep breath she put both hands on the pistol and looped one digit in through the trigger. Her heart was pounding in her chest as her fingertip rested against a curved piece of metal that would have sent a lethal shot one firm squeeze. No matter how much Rene had coached her that she would have no difficulty in using such a simple pistol she felt he underestimated how hard it was in practice- because it granted the ability to take a life.

"TWO!" Vitger threatend.

The blonde came around the corner and aimed her pistol directly at Vitger's back. An open container was at the far side of the warehouse and Rene was not far from it, crouched still between two of identical design, obviously struggling with the decision he was about to make. Even at this distance she could see his eyes going wide as she stepped into his range of vision. It must have been a shock to spot her with her face disguised by dirt, a scarf wound around her head and neck, his bulky bag slung behind her, and holding a slaver's weapon with an air of determination. Had he not known her personally he may have had a great deal of difficultly recognizing her as the same woman that had been so traumatized by the destruction at the embassy on New Concordia.

"Three," Solae announced.

Vitger whirled around. If he was surprised at the interruption, he was even more surprised that it was Solae herself that had appeared, and what smug satisfaction he held that his prize was so close was mitigated by the fact she was pointing a pistol at his torso. Her features were hard and cold as steel. Neither he nor Rene could spot an ounce of hesitation, fear, or anxiety in her visage. The aristocrat was a deeply empathetic woman but, as had already been witnessed by her paramour, when backed into a proverbial corner or threatened she was as fierce as any other lady of her pedigree and station. The Falia lineage had not been granted title for being cowards.

"You!" Vitger barked, "Turn yourself over to me and I'll let both of them go," he commanded, almost drooling at the prospect. His eyes dragged down her figure hungrily. With Tychon and Julia she had temporarily forgotten what it had been like to be ogled by degenerates. Her blood curdled at the thought of being touched by someone so unapologetically base and vile.

"No," she replied simply. "In the last week I've lost my home, both of my parents, my best friend, all my co-workers, and even my ex-boyfriends. The only thing I have left is Rene. You must have lost people you know during the typhoon," she said as she strode closer, pistol still aimed at his chest. "Imagine if you lost them all and you had only one person left to protect. What would you do to anyone foolish enough to try to take them from you? To threaten them? No one has to die here but let me be clear: if anyone does, you'll be a rotting corpse for your neighbors to find." A month ago she would have been bluffing but today she was not. This was the most dangerous Rene had seen Solae. Because she had so little left to lose she was becoming more desperate to protect what was left and that was pushing her to a terrifying precipice. If Vitger did not surrender he could very well watch a murder in slow-motion.

"I bet you've never even shot that thing! Stay where you are or I'll fill Tychon with needles!" Vitger blustered. He was getting unhinged at how outwardly calm and composed Solae was. Regardless of what she felt internally she possessed the confidence and grace of an assassin seeking an excuse to pounce.

"I landed our ship through the storm. Are you asking to race me? How about we ask Tychon to best on whose reflexes he thinks are faster," she dared. "I'll ask you to drop it once, nicely, before we test all the enhancements I was given that Duke Tan didn't put on his notice."

Vitger hesitated. He had sincerely not anticipated the blonde beauty in questioning being so lethal. Capturing Solae had been predicated on the assumption he'd always have the upper hand physically. Now that he was literally staring down the barrel of someone who was willing and able to murder him he was faltering. He didn't want to forfeit his life, especially when he was sure that Solae would kill him before letting him take her, and she'd have the opportunity to do so given their circumstances.

"Rene, would you please come get your bag?" Solae asked sweetly as she closed the gap between herself and Vitger and whipped her pistol hard into his wrist, forcing him to drop his own stun gun reflexively. Vitger yelped in pain and screamed obscenities at her. He had started to lunge, intending to grapple over her much more efficient pistol with the unconscious Tychon still underfoot, but Solae drove her knee hard up into his crutch. Vitger let out a strangled cry and crumpled to the ground. Regaining her grip on her weapon the marquise stood over her captive with an aura of haughty victory. There was no compassion for the sad excuse of a man writing on the ground in agony. She strongly suspected he had a certain reaction to the sight of her that made her strike all that more potent.

"How long do we have until Tychon wakes up?" she demanded. Vitger was whimpering over the damage to his extremities and could not offer an answer. Sighing and rolling her eyes she tried to nudge the giant next to them with her foot. "Looks like you'll have to move everyone's favorite fuel retailer to one of those containers yourself, Rene."

Rene felt his heart slide back out of his throat as Vitger slumped to the ground. He had already been in motion as Solae closed the gap on the would be kidnapper, cognizant that the moment of maximum risk was when the two combatants met, and he reached her side in a heartbeat. With mechanical reflex he kicked the stunner away, sending the little weapon skittering over the concrete and out of reach of a sudden lunge. Fortunately, such a lunge seemed beyond Vitger who was totally cowed by Solae and his sudden reversal of fortunes. Rene resisted the urge to kick Vitger in the stomach, he had a momentary flash back to Bowie giving him a little remedial hand to hand training, explaining that the first rule was to always kick a man when he was down. As the adrenaline of the the situation burned off, the background emotions of anger and embarrassment flooded up within him.

“I’ll be happy to,” he growled, seizing Vitger by collar and belt. The merchant thrashed as Rene’s picked him up and pitched him bodily into the back of the container in which he had been imprisoned. Vitger wailed, his arms flailing before he hit the interior wall of the container with a crunch. Without ceremony he pulled the chain tight and snapped the lock closed. Turning, he swept Solae up in his arms crushing her to him and kissing her passionately.

“Thank the stars!” he breathed, “you are ok.”

Solae laughed incredulously at the statement, carefully slipping the pistol into a pocket on her garment.

“You were the one locked in a container,” she reminded him, her nose crinkling from the fluorine residue that coated his body. Rene waved the distinction away, although his face was on the wanted notice, he was small fish, of no value save as a stepping stone to her and although he would never say it, he would gladly sacrifice his life to save hers.

After a moment, he reluctantly let her go and knelt down over Tychon. The fisherman continued to twitch but his breathing was steady. Rene carefully began to pluck the metallic needles from the other man, feeling the last flickers of electricity as tingle between his fingers. Small spots of blood stained Tychon’s tunic where the needles had struck his chest, but he didn’t think the injuries were serious.

“He will be awake in a few minutes,” Rene reassured Solae.

“How did you find out we were here?” he asked as he straightened, wiping his palms on his pants, before reaching into the duffle bag and pulling a pistol from it. He checked the load by rote and tucked it into his waistband. Solae gave him a quick run down of her adventures this morning and Rene’s eyes widened both at her skill and her audacity. In spite of knowing better, it was easy to fall into the trap of imagining her to be helpless. Yet again she had given the lie to that assumption. Rene smiled and Solae cocked an interrogative eyebrow.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said with a nod towards the shipping container. Thinking of Vitger made his face settle into a blank mask. Back on New Concordia, Rene had executed a slaver who had kidnapped and trafficked Syshin, and tried to do the same to Solae, but there he had a clear if technical legal authority. Vitger couldn’t be allowed to live, his existence constituted a threat both to Solae and to Tychon and his family, but in his own mind he had been obeying the law. Rene didn’t relish executing someone, even someone as apparently despicable as Vitger, in the name of security.

“Why are you only wearing one boot?” Solae asked, unexpectedly jolting him out of his grim reverie. Rene glanced down at his sock and snickered.

“Anything is a weapon if you're willing to make it one,” he replied, glad to have a moment to avoid thinking about the next move. Given the condition of the warehouse he was glad that he had been given the standard round of inoculations and shots. He wrapped Solae in his arms again.

“Thank you for saving me,” he told her, “you were amazing.”

"I appreciate the praise, but I hope I never have to do anything like this again," she said sincerely. Though she had ancestors that had military training and experience- certain members of her lineage were diplomats during times of war on more distant systems- it was truthfully not a skill set she wished to add to her repertoire. Solae greatly preferred to be able to converse and negotiate without strategically planning an imperial strike if her adversary did not make necessary concessions. More than one of the empress's predecessors, including her father, had been a vocal advocate for ambassadors carrying a treatise in one hand and a weapon in the other. Some of the marquise's contemporaries theorized this harsh methodology had done significant damage to political relationships. It was this strain, this agitation and fear, that may have been the catalyst for the likes of Duke Alexis Tan.

"I can alter his records," she suggested slowly as she mentally chewed over her plan as she spoke. "It would be relatively easy to show a sale of fuel to us, in our real names, that will paint him as complicit to the authorities. I don't know if he's reported your capture yet but if he has it will result him in getting his comeuppance, and if he hasn't reported it yet it will give him plenty of incentive to keep his mouth shut."

Tychon groaned as he started to regain consciousness. This had been a rough day for him even taking into account the typhoon that had landed only a few days earlier. He had spent the morning digging through the ruins of his neighbor's homes with Rene, albeit with great success considering, and then had been stunned by Vitger not once but twice. If she had been a doctor Solae would have prescribed him a week of bed's rest and pampering as his reward for enduring through the turmoil. Somehow the aristocrat doubted Tychon was the sort that would stay off his feet unless both legs and arms were broken. There was a streak of determination that ran through him a mile wide; it was no surprise that he got along with Rene so well.

"I'm sorry I didn't arrive earlier," Solae apologized.

"What the hell happened?" Tychon asked. He was confused not just because Vitger was no longer looming over him threateningly but also because Solae had appeared in what seemed like a blink of an eye. He was still staring at her after he had gotten to his feet. Undoubtedly he was trying to reconcile the fact that the 'princess' with the golden hair has somehow single-handedly become their savior from an individual twice her size.

"Rene can give you a play by play. We need to move quickly before anyone else that saw the original bounty and who thinks like Vitger finds us here. Rene, I need you and Tychon to figure out how much fuel we'll need to get to the nearest planet with a PEA. The more hops we make before we find somewhere with a PEA, the more worlds we put in danger, and the more traction Duke Tan's coup will build. I'll log a transaction in his system showing it... as a gift, I think, for saving his nephew was it? We'll take the credit we were going to give to Tychon, or reclaim it is in that container with him, and donate it to the citizens of San Roayo for their rebuilding efforts."

"Lady Solae," Tychon interrupted, feeling compelled to use the honorific because of the generosity she was showing. He had only glimpsed the currency but he knew what they had been willing to pay Vitger would go a long way in helping restore a community as poor as theirs. Like any other hero he did not see that he nor anyone else had done anything exceptional to deserve such a monetary reward. What he failed to take into account was that the marquise was bull-headed enough to force it upon him no matter how many objections he might raise.

"With all due respect Tychon, I won't let you refuse the offer. To make this work we'll need everyone to conveniently forget seeing us here. If one of the gentleman you and Rene worked with today lets it slip we were all around town and were not apprehended it will invite Duke Tan's wrath. I can promise you from what I have seen his crusade is ruthless. Do you think you could convince them?" she asked a little anxiously. It was not a small favor to request but she hoped it was possible. The noblewoman had faith in the Syshin and they had in turn been loyal, kind, and understanding with her.

"Yeah, sure," Tychon nodded. Clearly it was easier to agree with Solae's leadership than attempt to debate. Her proposal was sound and her voice intonation was rich with the authority of someone who was less open to suggestions than her words might imply.

"I'm going to his storefront, then, to log into his system. Contact me over the transmitter when you can tell me how much fuel we'll be moving, Rene," she declared, turned on her heal, and departed with a hurried pace.

Both of the men watched Solae go in something of an air of shock. Tychon, who hadn’t seen her take down Vitger was reacting to seeing her in her full persona as a noble of the Stellar Empire for the first time. The previous evening they had been mostly in the dark or concealed by clothing and the pair of them had left before Solae awoke. Rene’s shock was like that of a man who had narrowly missed being hit by a car, or, more accurately, narrowly watched the woman he loved being struck by it. A rush of relief flooded through him, relief that she was ok, and relief that he wouldn’t have to murder Vitger in cold blood, he would have done it had it been necessary but he was immensely relieved that Solae’s plan solved the problem.

“Seas,” Tychon breathed in the tone of a prayer.

“Right?” Rene agreed before checking Tychon over. The fisherman had a dozen punctures and plenty of minor wounds and small electrical burns but beyond that seemed to be ok.

“Rene, I’m sorry I know you said to run but I couldn’t just leave…”

“Forget it,” Rene advised, “anyone you walk away from right?” Tychon nodded in agreement.

“Right,” he concured, obviously relieved that Rene wasn’t angry with him. Glancing around Rene found a roll of cargo tape on one of the cluttered work benches. Snatching it up he opened the container that Vitger was trapped in, stepping back and pointing the pistol as Vitger should have done. The precaution was needless however as the merchant lay moaning incoherently. Rene stepped up into the container and grabbed the man roughly, trussing his arms with the cargo tape with practiced ease. The tape had a synthetic adhesive with a tensile strength of several hundred kilos and had to be removed with special chemical solvents, it wasn’t something that Vitger would be able to get out of without significant aid. Rene quickly rifled the man's pockets and retrieved a small folding knife a few credits and some candy of dubious quality all of which he tossed out of the container. Vitger stirred and moaned but Rene ignored him. He opted not to tape the mans mouth, he had no love for Vitger but he didn’t want him to panic and choke on his own vomit, not when the container was almost sound proof. Stepping out he closed the door and replaced the chain and lock sealing the merchant as effectively as any holding cell.

“Alright, lets get to work,” Rene said, ignoring the pain in his chest where eletrical current had violent spasmed his muscles.

“Maybe once your dressed,” Tychon grinned and tossed Rene’s boot to him in an underhanded throw.

Rene’s initial concern for finding a suitable transport proved unfounded. While the storm had driven most of the coral gathering fleet to ground, the gas emporium had its own vessel, safely stored in one of the warehouses on a demountable trailer. Tychon explained that the plant here made deliveries to smaller island communities once or twice a year and kept the vessel dry between runs. Coral gathering boats had to be cleaned every few weeks to remove molluscs and chaining algae that grew on the hulls, a process which was frustrating enough to justify removing a boat from the water if you didn’t use it regularly. The transport boat was not dissimilar to the barge Rene and Solae had used to cross the straight, save that its midsection bulged with three large tanks and there were a pair of large diesel electric motors mounted on retractable outriggers.

In short order they attached long hoses to the tanks and began to fill them with liquid fluorine from reservoirs built into the foundation of the building. As the pumps chugged a thin sheen of condensation appeared on the metallic skins of the tanks, running down the sides in rivulets. Rene was once again reminded how narrow his education was, or at least how lacking in the basic skills of the world. Without Tychon he couldn’t have managed the fairly simple task but the fisherman’s rough and tumble life gave him familiarity enough to operate all the machinery with Rene acting as unskilled, if willing, hands. Rene supposed that in their own ways they were both specialists, though Rene’s specialization was far more esoteric and far less useful in the lives of most people in the Empire.

“How much fuel do you think you need to reach this Pi-ay?” Tychon asked, having misheard PEA and assumed it was a world of some sort. Rene rather wished he hadn't overheard that but if the man couldn’t be trusted they were already lost.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, as yet he didn’t even know what world they would make for, that would have to wait for an analysis of the data Solae had pulled from the communications center.

“But I plan to fill the tanks with as much as we can carry.” Before they had left Mia had given Rene a run down on what exactly was required and how much they would need, if his calculations were right they had more than enough here to make several jumps and landings.

“You said your ship is inland, can you move it?” Tychon asked as he through the last closure and began disconnecting the thigh thick black rubber hoses from the tanks. Rene shook his head.

“No its mired in mud, or volcanic silt at least,” he explained, visualising the Bonaventure and her precarious position. Once the water had run off, which might have happened already, they could run up the plasma thrusters and bake the ground hard but that would trap the landing skids beneath baked clay rather than simply mud.

“Poppers,” Tychon said with a shrug when Rene explained this. The solider blinked, taken aback by Tychon’s dismissal of a serious problem. When he saw that Rene didn’t understand he went on.

“Your spaceship is fairly hardy yes? Just dry out the ground and then use a few poppers to shatter the clay,” Tychon went on as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What is a popper?” Rene asked, still puzzled. Tychon reached into his pocket, possibly looking for cigarettes, realised that Vitger had taken everything of him before he tossed him into the container and abandoned the effort.

“Small explosives we use to break up coral,” Tychon explained.

“We have dozens on the boat, you can take them, it will be along time before we are ready to gather again.” Rene shook his head in bemused wonderment.

“Tychon I could kiss you,” Rene declared, elated to see a complex problem evaporate before his eyes.

“Your fiancee might misunderstand,” Tychon said with a chuckle.

“We still need to get the fuel to the ship,” Rene said feeling a little of the excitement drain out of him. He wasn’t at all sure they had enough fuel left to run the thrusters long enough.

“There are several hundred meters of hose here,” Tychon said, making an expansive gesture at the warehouse. They began to gather up coils of hose, stacking them in neat towers on the exposed decking. Once they reached a certain height Tychon secured them to lugs with tie downs.

“Can we leave tonight?” Rene asked as they finished the task. Now that the bounty was posted locals might be looking for strange ships and while Rene doubted that any surveillance system on Panopontus was up to spotting the Bonaventure from orbit, there was little sense in taking chances. To his disappointment Tychon shook his head.

“The currents are against it,” he explained, nodding towards the sea, or what Rene presumed was the sea as they were inside.

“You would have to spend hours fighting them and landing would be tricky, better to wait for tomorrow,” he counseled and then flashed a broad smile.

“Besides Julia and Damaris would have my head if I let you slip away without saying goodbye.”