Solae was relieved to find the store front vacant and unlocked. Despite being in close proximity to the sea, and a building rather than a vessel, it was rather reminiscent of the state of the Bonaventure before they stole it from the slavers. There was a palpable layer of grime over every surface that spoke to how Vitger knew appearances would not affect his sales. Similarly, the smugglers had been confidant their filth would not harm their bottom line so they had been quite content to let a thick muck build on equipment in disuse. Salt, chemical residue, dirt, sand, and grease were caked in crevices of the door and the natural indentations of furniture. When she had left the warehouse Solae had been certain she had given Rene and Tychon the worse of the two jobs. Suddenly her faith in that assertion was waning.

The marquise firmly closed the door behind her and turned the lock. Should either of her companions need to gain entry they could knock or communicate through Rene's device. With purpose she then turned to the windows and shuttered them closed as well with little difficulty. This might have been a more unusual sight had the typhoon not just passed. With storms of such magnitude it was not strange for merchants to take just as much time to recover as their customers. Even if there was no outward damage to the structures Vitger used for his trade, people might not know the status of his personal residence, or they might wrongly conclude that he was aiding his neighbors rather than hoping to earn a profit.

Because it was so integral to his business transactions Vitger had evidently kept his console in better condition than possibly every other one of his possessions. The screen had smudges, and it could have used a scrub around the edges, but was more than she had dared to hope for. She perched on the edge of the chair in front of it and pulled off her scarf. Keeping her hair bound and wrapped so tightly had begun to ache. With the freedom the locked door and shutters provided she could rest assured no one would stumble into the spectacle of the noblewoman with lustrous aureate hair. The loops she had wound her mane into created pleasantly soft curls from her chin past her shoulders. Silently Solae mused that all the best styles required pain before or during their execution; when she was a child she made accusations to her mother that beauticians were sadists when they tried to coax her into fancy dresses and fashionable up-dos.

"Right then," she sighed.

Vitger's hardware was less sophisticated than the communications center. Despite its simplicity, Solae navigated to wrong subsections of the programs he used for sales more than once. In truth she was stumbling blindly; as adept as she was with this avenue of technology nearly everything on this console was foreign to her. There was no Mia to guide her as she jumped around digitally looking for what she needed. The uncomfortably sultry artificial intelligence was sorely missed, not just because of the guidance she offered, but the companionship. Her love for Rene had not faltered- but she was a social individual that was most satisfied when networking.

The planetary network.

Deviating from her initial goal momentarily, Solae moved over to Vitger's messages. Afraid to so much as glimpse at whatever unsavory missives he had received, she instead began to compose. Broadcasts alerting him to her true identity meant the planetary network was functional and accessible from this console. The bounty on her head originated from New Concordia and it stood to reason that if correspondence was being delivered from other worlds and dispersed on the planetary network, it was also being transported elsewhere from Panopontus. Duke Tan would be controlling information but not blocking absolutely everything; to do so would raise red flags across the empire more quickly than he could mobilize his soldiers. Mundane letters from relatives, friends, and lovers to one another would be permitted if they lacked any hints about the coup underway.

It was an opportunity she couldn't let slip by. Seizing her chance she wrote three innocuous notes to people she knew in the sector that were trustworthy. Panopontus was wholly ignorant of the brewing war so she knew messages would not be scrutinized and monitored with the same fervor they would have on New Concordia. Solae was cautious, however, and utilized linguistic cryptography in each of the three. Not every linguist could decode puzzles from text, though most could, and these three in particular were highly educated, sharp, and astute peers. Perhaps it was a folly plan, or they'd be lost before arrival, or she'd be ignored, but taking the gamble was better than nothing. Each was signed with a pseudonym, contained no information on her location nor destination, but alluded with the cypher to the strife and peril she faced. If any of her acquaintances could offer help they could send 'Mia' a similarly encrypted post on one of several diplomatic interstellar forums.

Invigorated by her dalliance into espionage- minor though it was- the task of manipulating Vitger's records seemed easier. After a few minutes of exploring she started to revise his numbers and annotations. Solae was almost gleeful leaving the trail of crumbs. If Vitger had been an upstanding man of this city she would have never dreamed of concocting damning evidence he was a willing accomplice to two 'dangerous rebels.' Tychon and Julia had her loyalty for their virtuous compassion so she would do everything in her power to hide their interactions for the small family's safety. That Vitger had been greedy, unapologetic, crass, violent, and forced her to brandish a weapon made him the enemy. Striking Rene made him a nemesis she'd not easily forgive.

"Rene?" she called over on her transmitter. If he wasn't receiving this time she'd make a short journey to the warehouse to assault him in frustration herself. "How much are we offloading? How many tanks?"

"We're going to fill all three," he called back over.

"Is that as much as we can take?" she asked. Rene knew the struggles ahead of them; she was certain it was. "All right, I'll be done here shortly. When are we leaving?"

"Tychon says the tide would make it too difficult to make it back to the ship tonight. We'll have to leave tomorrow," he informed her, then added, "Julia and Damaris will want to say good bye."

"Once you're finished with the warehouse come over here to the office. I need someone to help me put my hair back in the scarf again," Solae sighed audibly with deep regret. Vitger was unsurprisingly not a fine gentleman with a quality mirror with which to gaze upon his reflection. She needed the men to absolutely confirm no errant strands were visible outside their cloth trappings.

Rene slipped into the office, leaving Tychon to finish the last few tasks of loading the fuel. Both men were suffering the after affects of the stunner needles but work was as good as rest for dealing with the occasional after spasms of the neural disruptor darts. Genetic enhancement would help Rene’s expensive physiology deal with the trauma, Tychon would have to rely on his natural toughness alone, which, come to think of it was probably more than enough.

He crossed the room in a rush and wrapped his arms around Solae, pulling her to him and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. The hood fell down releasing her hair like cascade of liquid gold and undoing all the work she had done to conceal it. The spectre of disaster flitted through Rene’s mind as it imagined different possible endings to today’s events. A dart might have stopped his heart if Vitger had gotten unlucky, Solae might have come to the warehouse with him instead of going to the communications center and been taken. A dozen other equally ruinous variations, all of which ended with Solae being handed over to the rebels or killed.

Although he knew both from his training and experience that no one could be everywhere and do everything, he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let such a lapse in judgement happen again. He would get her to safety whatever the cost. After a few moments he loosened his grip on her, though he didn’t let her go completely.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, meaning more than the disruption to her hair, though meaning that also. His heart hurt with love for her and with fear for her at the same time, a fear that he never felt for his own life. He began to run his fingers through her hair, gathering it back up into her hood, the simple gesture surprisingly intimate even in such surroundings.

From outside came the sharp hiss of high pressure hoses disconnecting as Tychon worked. Rene realised that his body was trembling slightly with reaction. Adrenaline that hadn’t been burned off churned his stomach and made him feel queasy. Stars above, he hoped whatever information Solae had retrieved from the communications center would yield a solution. Rene was dedicated both to his duty and to the Stellar Empire as a whole, but for the first time he found himself wondering if maybe it wouldn’t be better to find some deserted world and wait out the storm, rather than risk the life of the woman he loved.

"It's not your fault there is a bounty on my head last time I checked," Solae impishly reassured. There was little more she could say that she thought might bring him any comfort. It was minimally his fault they had landed through the hurricane in the spot they had, and perhaps that he had exposed himself in a way that led to his capture, but he could hardly be blamed for the limited planetary systems accessible in one jump from New Concordia, the state of the vessel they had stolen, or the myriad of other issues they faced. Truly it was the marquise herself that posed the most danger to the couple. Rene was much more easily disguised and more of a challenge to recognize, whereas the smallest toddler could identify the noblewoman from her hair alone, and it was her genetic sequence that the rebellion was desperately seeking. Had she not been discovered in his company Rene could be living a much quieter and safer life already.

"Come on, let's go before Tychon gets suspicious that we're doing something other than talking," she joked with a bemused smile as she patted his arm. Turning towards Vitger's console she finished her meddling, wiped the screen clean of any identifying fingerprints to be cautious, and set it to a sleep mode as it wouldn't be seeing any more immediate use. Somehow she doubted any forensic experts would be deeply investigating the premises- and even if they did it would be impossible to discern anything other than Solae, Rene, and Vitger had all been there, which fed into the fabrication of them all working together.

"Ready to get some dinner?" she asked Tychon as they emerged from the dingy seaport office. "I'm guessing there is no where to park all this fuel in your back yard so we'll leave it here and come back in the morning?"

Tychon grunted in acknowledgment and wiped his brow. "Should be fine for a night. Can't imagine anyone is gonna come looking for Vitger and even if they do they won't hear him in that container. I can let him out tomorrow after you two are free and clear," he suggested. On the surface this was a practical suggestion, but it was clear that the man also wanted his neighbor to be punished for his greed and betrayal. Rene and Solae both had their lives threatened multiple times over the last week; this was the only time for Tychon and it was personal. Vitger was no stranger or soldier acting in his best interest. That he knew Tychon well, that they had been friendly, and that he was willing to murder him in cold blood for wealth and a pretty face would not be anything forgiven much less forgotten any time soon.

"I can't apologize enough for putting you in this situation, Tychon," she said with an incline of her head.

"Rene already explained it to me. I understand... Solae," he replied uncomfortably. Solae wasn't really a princess but she was close enough that he didn't feel quite right not using any sort of honorable address or letting her bow her head in deference. He was a peasant and yet she was treating him with more respect than most of his own social station.

It took another ten minutes or so for Rene and Tychon to put away everything that needed to be secured with their departure. Solae watched the sun lowering itself towards the horizon and was grateful that it was growing closer to dusk. During the night time they were in far less danger; their symmetrical features were less visible, the golden hue of her hair was nearly indiscernible, and their statures drew far less attention without the ability to distinguish detail. Thankful as she was for the scarf she was already dreaming of being free of its confines. Her scalp ached from having a tightly wound arrangement at the base of her skull.

"Let's go," Rene said softly and gestured for her to follow Tychon, who was already eagerly taking long strides towards a gravel and crushed seashell road that led back towards the city and his residence.

"I sent out some messages to friendly contacts I have in the area," she whispered to Rene as they walked alongside each other. Perhaps it was childish and juvenile, but she had reached for his hand, intertwined their fingers, and held it as they kept a more leisurely pace behind their host. All three were glad to be rid of the visual reminders of Vitger and his depravity but sprinting down the street would be too bizarre for nearby residents not to notice. "Only the ones I was certain were loyal to the empress, of course. It will take some time before they are received but we might find someone that can help us. Sending out an alert on the PEA won't guarantee our safety. Duke Tan will probably still want me so he can try to garner support via the PEA, perhaps someone that can intercept the empress's forces, and once he doesn't have a use for us he'll certainly want us dead. We'll need to find a place to hide from the coup's soldiers and from anyone that might still hold a grudge against you for the past. I'm most optimistic about a woman I know named Eira and a fellow linguist by the name of Kovit."

"Solae..." Rene started.

"I've had title since I was born but never did anything with it," she pointed out in anticipation of him expressing some sort of doubts about their plans, "If we can warn the empress there will be recognition and reward, including a chance to have a blessing on our marriage, and a chance to do something for the people that have helped us like Tychon and Julia and the Syshin. If we give up now then we'll forfeit being able to tell the courts of the wonderful people that Duke Tan's treachery didn't reach. Can you imagine what a voice for this planet, its working citizens, and the Syshin could do? I can't abandon that hope just yet."

Rene squeezed Solae’s hand as they followed Tychon back through the darkening streets. The fisherman was unusually quiet, perhaps focused on his brush with disaster or simply feeling uncomfortable with his guests. The social strata of the Empire were prous at lower levels but grew more rigid the higher one climbed. The revelation of just how stratospherically high above him his daughters rescuers were made him uncomfortable and raised a wall between them, even if only in his own mind. For Rene it was a surprisingly bitter sensation, he knew that he was incredibly privileged to have grown up as he had, one among literal trillions, but everywhere he went he was out of place, cast out of his own class, yet unable to move into another. He squeezed Solae’s hand again though he couldn’t quite articulate the feeling.

It was nearly pitch black by the time the arrived back at Julia and Tychon’s home. The stars were out but the moon was nearly eclipsed and cast little light. What illumination there was came from fires that people had built in their yards, mostly with scavenged building materials, and the occasional generator powered illuminator. The people of San Roayo lived almost hand to mouth and few of them had been willing to spend money on luxuries like redundant generators when more immediate concerns. Rene wondered how long it would be before any organised disaster relief would reach San Roayo and other similarly devastated regions of Panopontus. Ordinarily relief would arrive within days, but with the rebellion interdicting shipping and controlling communications, it could be weeks or months. Duke Tan wouldn’t care about that of course, maybe most nobles wouldn’t care but for all the charges Rene might level against his father, her couldn’t imagine the Elder Du Quentain allowing his clients to suffer. Noblesse Oblige had been one of the few concepts in which his father had taken a personal interest in instructing his son and it pricked Rene’s soul to think of people being neglected by their rulers when they needed them the most. Rene didn’t know that much about Solae’s family, but he was willing to bet that she felt much the same way.

Julia let out an audible sigh of relief as Tychon and the two off-worlders entered the kitchen. She had been holding something beneath the level of the kitchen bench which Rene was willing to bet was a weapon of some sort, though perhaps not a firearm. Rushing across the room she hugged Tychon tightly around the waist. Rene saw the other man wince, as well he might given the fact that he had been shot with a needle stunner on two separate occasions. From the corner of a doorway Damaris peeked, apparently having been sent to bed but equally unwilling to miss out on the excitement. The chemical luminators were glowing more dimly than they had the first night, though the still provided ample light.

“Thank the seas you are alright!” Julia declared. Tychon sat down awkwardly and Julia peeled off his shirt despite his attempts to object. The front of his chest was a mass of purple bruises, punctuated by welts and shallow wounds where the needles had struck.

“What under the seas happened to you?” Julia demanded, but rushed off to retrieve a small medical kit before Tychon could explain. Once she returned she began to dab at the wounds with a pungent smelling antiseptic and Tychon told her the story. Julia’s face grew darker by the moment as she heard of Vitger attempt to kidnap Rene. Tychon had really be collateral damage, but that was of little comfort to Julia.

“And you Rene,” Julia demanded when she was done treating her husband.

“It really isn’t necessary…”

“What is it with men always downplaying their injuries,” Julia demanded of Solae crossly. Rene responded by lifting his shirt. His bruises already had the yellowish green colour that one expected after three or four days and the puncture wounds were already neatly scabbed over. The increased healing factors in his genes didn’t make him immune to harm but they did help him to recover faster than a normal man might. The extent of genetic manipulation used by the nobility was not common knowledge but rumors did circulate.

“Besides, I only got hit the once,” Rene explained as Julia set down her first aid kit and produced three bowls of cold food. The dish appeared to be some sort of mangrove root, sliced thin and then fried in fish oil. Rene found the texture to be mildly unpleasant but that still placed it far above a lot of things he had eaten in the past few years. Tychon produced a bottle of wine, apparently brewed from some sort of local berry and poured them all a glass. Rene accepted it politely, though what he truly wanted to talk to Solae privately, to discuss what she had learned and the people she had contacted while at the communications center. They had been on the defensive thus far, reacting to the moves of the Rebels rather than making any overt moves of their own. It felt good to think that they might be able to take the offensive soon, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that would mean.

______________________

Trallius Major
Day 7

The war room was quiet save for the low background hum of live processors. Emperor Alexius Tan’s tall leather boots, deliberately military in style despite his own lack of service in that arena, rang on the marble floor as he paced. The war room had started life as a large ballroom, a fact that its blue marble floor and richly carved walls still attested to, but over a period of months it had become the nerve center of the Duke’s Rebellion. Powerful computer consoles were bolted to the floor, fed by conduits of fibre links that vanished into holes drilled into the priceless wall carvings, holographic projections shimmered in the air displaying data on a dozen different situations currently going on throughout the Eastern Cross. Traullius Major, as a sector capital, had dozens of better locations for such a task. Fleet command, one of the early targets of the rebels possessed a hundred times the facilities as did any one of the major administrative complexes, even the data centers in the palace were better suited from a hardware perspective. The problem was that each of those systems had been set up by Imperial Command and had, until recently, been operated by Imperial personnel.

When he had initially conceived of the idea of overthrowing the weak and pathetic government of which he was the titular head, Tan had realised that secrecy was essential. No facility that Imperial Intelligence knew of could be truly safe, and so, under the guise of a major remodel of his palace, he had converted this wing to serve as his base of operations. At the very center of the room stood a large cylinder of gold inlaid quartz. It sat on a pedestal from which cabling radiated like a spiders web to each of the consoles. The quartz pulsed with an inner light as trillions of quantum entangled particles spun and flickered in response to signals from its sister units all over the Stellar Empire. Only high level Imperial communications were sent via the PEA, instantly delivering the will of the Empress and her bureaucracy across billions of light years, orders for Fleet movements, Imperial decrees, Intelligence reports, and all of it completely impenetrable to Tan. He glowered at the PEA, willing the thing to give up its secrets.

“Your Highness.” Tan nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected words. Several of the technicians who had been studiously studding their screens while the Duke glowered, also started.

“I’ve told you not to sneak up on me General!” Tan snapped, irritable to be startled. General Antigony Bhast, commander and chief of the Dukes forces, smiled apologetically. At least, the Duke had learned to interpret it as a smile. Bhast was a veteran of a dozen campaigns and had risen through the ranks through her own drive and cunning, her eyes focused well beyond the horizon, perhaps on nothing in this universe. She was difficult to read, even for him.

“That is why I stomped over here like a cadet on parade My Lord, unfortunately you were too absorbed in your contemplation of the PEA to notice.” Tan grimaced and made a gesture of dismissal fluffing his mustache in a habitual gesture.

“Have you something to report or have you just decided to take up startling your Emperor as a hobby?” Tan demanded. Bhast smiled again, though the expression didn’t touch her cold eyes. She gestured at a nearby screen and it flickered to life, displaying footage of a starship streaking into the sky, streaming atmosphere through punctures in its hull the holographic overlay of a crosshair made it clear that it was gun camera footage. The ship vanished into the sky and the loop began again, starting with the ship rising from a plantation of some kind. A side bar appeared giving the ship name as ‘Bonaventure’ followed by class, registration number and various other pertinent datum.

Rather than give the general the satisfaction of asking what the footage was, Tan merely waited for Bhast to go on.

“This was shot on New Concordia. Three days ago,” Bhast said at last, making another gesture. Holographic portraits of two individuals flashed up one showing the familiar and beautiful face of Marquessa Solae Falia, the other an unfamiliar young man in drab battle dress.

“It seems the Marquessa fled the planet aboard the vessel, the pilot will be disciplined for firing on so high value a target,” Bhast explained in evident disapproval. Tan stared hungrily at the picture of the noblewoman, perhaps the one surviving person in the Eastern Cross who could unlock the PEA network. She had been so close and now…

Tan reached out a hand, pointing a finger at the portrait of the man. The system, a complex set of holographic cameras, interpreted the gesture and bought the portrait to a quarter mask of the screen. Rene Quentain. Private. Service Number 7203499. The holo was clear, taken from a military or immigration database rather than from live video. Tan frowned.

“A nobody,” he declared after a moment. Bhast nodded her head, though in acknowledgement of the words rather than agreement.

“We aren’t sure, Marine neo-nomyns being what they are, but analytics suggests some genetic enhancement. There is a Du Quentain family on Capella.”

Tan shook his head shrinking the image by closing his fingers.

“So he is what? Imperial Intelligence or something?” the Duke asked, enlarging the portrait of Solae.

“No way to know, not yet anyway. Perhaps a nobody in the right place at the right time,” Bhast said in a neutral tone of voice that declared she didn’t believe that for a second.

“Those idiots let her slip through their fingers,” Tan growled.

“I trust that…” Bhast was already nodding.

“Governor Cohen and his family have already been executed for crimes against the people,” the general confirmed.

“But his intelligence chief did provide me with this analysis.” The hologram shifted again to a star chart of the worlds in the immediate vicinity of Panopontus. Colored streaks of light mapped out the jump lanes across the starscape.

“They pulled satellite imagery of the ship coming down, a local tramp freighter taking slaves off book we think.” A grainy satellite image of the ship landing and a figure climbing up onto and slipping inside followed by what might have been muzzle flash.

“It didn’t have a chance to refuel before it lifted and we were able to sample its trail and calculate the ratio of the fuel burn and consumption rate.” A sphere appeared around New Concorida, representing the outer limit of the ships projected jump range. Six worlds light up with a bright red. Crelian, Trap 351, Pondak’s World, Panopontus, Jaseem’s Reach and Port St Croix. Tan frowned distastefully.

“So we know they have to be on one of these six worlds, but we don't know which. There was a Marine detachment on Trap 351 wasn’t there?” he asked his chief. The Eastern Cross was comprised of several hundred worlds, there was now reason of the Duke to be aware of every settlement, but he was familiar with most of the garrisons from the past weeks brutal extermination campaign.

“Yes, destroyed four days ago by Captain Gellan’s squadron, orbital strike,” Bhast agreed.

“Analysis suggests Trap 351 as the most likely choice, particularly given this Quentain’s presence, Port St Croix was the next most likely followed by Pondak’s World. The Intelligence chief on New Concordia dispatched vessels to all of the ports as soon as he could, though these were commendered merchantmen rather than warships of course.“

“Of course,” Tan responded sourly. He glared at the star chart trying to put himself in the heads of the fugitives. The obvious choice was to run to the nearest Imperial base. They clearly hadn’t done that or they would have been snapped up by the squadron at Trap 351. The next obvious choice was to make a run for the celestial center of the Stellar Empire, which meant passing through the jump nexi at Aquillia or Dunbarton. Such an attempt bordered on the suicidal as the ships had description of Falia and orders to stop any ships from passing through the system.

“I want units sent to all six worlds, pick teams of experts to hunt them down,” Tan declared decisively.

“Already done my Lord,” Bhast responded, but the man who called himself Emperor had already turned to resume staring into the impenetrable heart of the quartz, though in his mind he saw only a beautiful face framed by aurite hair, and all the power it represented.

"I've been thinking," Solae began conversationally to no one in particular, though Rene would clearly gain the most benefit from the discussion she was about to instigate, "I don't believe that Duke Tan necessarily has quite as large as an advantage as we initially speculated. While he will likely still descend on Panopontus, and other planets in relative close proximity to New Concordia, the impact it will have on the three of you will be minor comparatively so long as he doesn't realize we were housed by your family."

"What do you mean?" Julia inquired curiously. Tychon was a simple man who didn't much care about the political landscape but now that they had been thrown into it his wife was much more intrigued. This was a rare glimpse into the world of the wealthy, the privileged, and the powerful, something she may never again have such insight into. There was something to be said about understanding the people that made so many decisions that had a direct impact on their lives.

"We can all agree he must have been planning and preparing for this coup for some time," the marquise stated assertively. "Before he launched his initial assault he would have consolidated his resources and moved as many of his assets to his home on New Concordia to make them accessible. The people loyal to him almost certainly did the same with his forewarning- but I doubt that any of the nobility he assassinated did."

"Does that matter?" Julia asked though she knew it did or else Solae would not be bringing it up now.

"Families like mine, the Falias, do not have just one residence on one planet nor in one city. We have holdings on several worlds and in more than one sector. As a security measure, and for the sake of convenience, our funds are spread across more than one account so that traveling or managing day to day operations for a businesss venture on opposite sides of the universe- figuratively speaking- won't be impeded. It creates incredibly complex accounting for some noblemen and noblewomen, but it means if I take a ship to Cappela I do not have to physically carry credit with me nor do I have to worry about how long it will take for Cappela's banks to acknowledge what New Concordia shows to be in my account. Does that make some sense?"

"So he isn't as rich as everyone he killed put together," Tychon remarked with a rueful barking laugh.

"Not at all. With the time he's had he's probably forced his way into the New Concordia treasury and stolen everything there, but he won't be able to get any further regardless of how talented his saboteurs are, and his position as a Duke won't let him levy on any bank accounts outside his control. If any person of title could use their identity to get into another person of title's finances there would be a war even the empress would be unable to stop," Solae joked lamely.

"What this all means is the resources he has are limited. Trade in and out of New Concordia can't continue as it was because then news of the rebellion would spread. Duke Tan can't forge new agreements either as that would require revealing what has transpired and what position of authority he has assumed. Other planets will refuse to trade once they understand, if not because of loyalty to the empress, but because it's economically safer to stay in good relations with an expansive empire than a fledgling one, and because any noble associated with trading with Duke Tan will forfeit his comfortable status within the empire, including all the attached luxuries."

"And people are gonna get suspicious after a while of not hearing from your embassy?" Julia asked quietly.

Solae nodded. "They will. Duke Tan has to act quickly and claim as much as he can before the imperial fleet arrives. He'll prioritize planets with the most useful resources that don't have to be shipped off-world for processing, and planets with the least amount of military presence to minimize his losses, and depending on how arrogant he is he'll try to also select worlds with less nobility that he has to convince to bow the knee or not undermine his power."

"After the devastating typhoon here on Panopontus, and so much of your coral being exported before it is turned into goods of value, he'll set his sights on others first," Rene added more quietly as he slowly ate his dinner.

"Progress is going to be slow for Duke Tan," Solae confirmed with a nod, "and in another week or two even if we can't reach a PEA there will be small groups sent to investigate why diplomatic cables and decrees are receiving no response."

"How long after that until they know?" Julia inquired softly with a lowered voice.

"I don't know. Rene is a marine so he might have a better idea but... that might take some time," she admitted. "Do you think Damaris would fancy being a marquise herself?"

Tychon choked on his drink and very nearly spit it all out on the table. Rene, who was seated next to him, patted him on the back several times to help him clear both his throat and lungs. For her part Julia was just staring at Solae in stunned silence. After everything they had already been through Solae was glad she could elicit such a shocked reaction from her new 'family.' Before they could vocalize a protest she cleared her throat.

"Should I make it safely to Cappela I think I will be given quite a bit of social latitude," she declared. It was the understatement of the century. Given her proven fealty to the empress she would almost certainly be rewarded handsomely. Marquise was not the ceiling on titles granted by the throne and it was all but guaranteed that with the current trajectory that Solae would be crowned with a higher status than what she currently held. Even if she did not, it was the favorites of the reigning ruler that set standards for the rest, and public critique of someone so recognized would be shunned at a minimum. Without children Solae could declare anyone heir to the Falia line she wished. Her cousins could argue and litigate the matter but they would find counsel reluctant to represent anyone against an intergalactic hero.

"Miss Solae!" Tychon finally stammered.

"One of the few boons of my parents being deceased is that I am technically the matriarch of the Falia family as the most direct living descendant," Solae continued on undeterred. Rene could see that she was highly amused and enjoying herself. She evidently found it very satisfying to praise and impart gifts onto those that were deserving but so unprepared for her generosity. "That means only the empress and Rene can try to tell me what to do," she said with a wink at her soldier fiancee.

"That really isn't necessary," Julia tried to argue furtively.

"Julia," Solae said with dramatically feigned scorn, "are you also going to refuse the credit we brought to pay for the fuel that Vitger so kindly donated? I should be getting to bed." She stood, kissed Rene on the cheek, and made her way to bed as Julia tried desperately to move her lips in coherent words. Though she was unable to form an argument it didn't truly matter- Solae was so obstinate that they all knew the minute she had decreed that she and Rene would be turning over the credit in their pockets for the recovery of San Roayo that absolutely nothing would convince her otherwise. There was a far better chance of success arguing with the reinforced walls of the communication center downtown.

The low subsonic thrum woke Rene before dawn. Solae shifted beside him and he tightened his arms around her naked body instinctively. She made a pleased sound and wriggled distractingly against him. Rene felt himself begin to stiffen in spite of the fact he knew he should be focusing on the sound that had woken him. His fingers stroked her hair for a moment longer before he forced himself to sit up. From head to toe his body ached. Just because someone was genetically enhanced didn’t mean they could shrug off the effects of electrical trauma. It didn’t really matter. That which could be ignored was irrelevant. Solae made another sleepy sound, their lovemaking had kept them up later than was probably wise. It had been different, more restrained than usual due to the fact they didn’t want to wake the whole house but passionate and intense nonetheless. He didn’t want to have to face the world right now, he wanted to wake Solae up and remind both of them that no matter what was going on out in the galaxy, they were both here and both still very much alive.

The cheap glass windows were beginning to rattle in their frames. The door swung open and Tychon’s head appeared. In the dim predawn light he looked drawn and skeletal, though Rene knew that was a trick of illumination.

“Jumpers?” Rene asked, pulling the blanket up to cover Solae. Tychon nodded his head obviously not surprised that Rene had already woken to the sound.

“We will be right with you,” he said curtly. Tychon nodded and closed the door. Solae opened her eyes and looked up at him in sleepy interrogation.

“Jumpers coming, probably nothing to worry about,” he explained. Solae sat up fully awake now. Jumpers were a catchall term used for various atmospheric rotary aircraft that were in use throughout the Empire. Each vehicle had a bank of four or more rotors mounted in separate housings that kept them aloft. Jumpers were more maneuverable and far more efficient than pure jet aircraft would have been, and could take of and land vertically to deliver everything from medical supplies to troops.

“Could they be for us?” Solae asked in concern. Rene shook his head.

“There are too many, and if they were coming for us they would have been here quicker, this is probably a survey team or the first stages of a relief effort.”

Judging by the sound the jumpers were coming in from the south east, that meant they wouldn’t overfly the Bonaventure’s hiding place, not that they could spot the ship in the darkness with its systems powered down. Once daylight broke though, an overflight might very well reveal the ships location.

Rene dressed quickly, pulling on a spare set of Tychon’s fishing gear, comprised of a waterproof yet breathable shirt and a pair of heavy duty pants with numerous pockets for equipment. Despite Tychon’s offer of shoes he kept his own boots. They were comfortable and practical as well as being a vestige of his uniform that he was reluctant to give up. It didn’t make any intellectual sense but emotionally he felt like so long as he kept his boots he was in someway honoring the memory of Bowie and the other marines who had died in the Rat Trap.

Solae’s analysis of the Duke’s position made more sense the more Rene thought about it. That was only natural, she was a diplomat trained to think in those terms afterall. It also explained the exorbitant reward being offered for Solae. Tan needed the PEA not just to communicate with his partisans, but to convince other aristocrats that he had a chance, he needed to contact others and encourage them to rise up as well. The Eastern Cross was a wide territory, but history and economics both showed that if the Empress could focus her forces, no one magnate could hope to oppose her. It might take weeks or months for the bureaucracy to dispatch investigators, and for the death of those investigators to be noticed and trigger a military reconnaissance. If Tan didn’t have the PEA system working by then, it was all over bar the firing parties. That should have made Rene feel better, but the Empire Triumphant was an abstract, and the short term danger to the woman he loved was far more important to him.

It also meant that Solae’s entreaties to the other aristocrats in the Cross were more likely to bear fruit. While major families were likely to have either joined or been destroyed, smaller ones would continue to oscillate between the two camps. Tan represented a serious threat and was willing to buy partisans for his cause, but as Solae had said, those that stayed loyal and particularly those who actively opposed the rebels would be rewarded. Tan’s brutal had created a great many open positions afterall. Even knowing Solae was alive might be enough incentive for fence sitters to continue waiting, and of course, more incentive for the Duke to hunt her down and drag her off in chains. Rene’s anger began to kindle at the thought of Solae’s body being part of the reward for her capture. Quietly, he promised himself that if fate ever gave him the chance, he would discuss the matter with Duke Alexis Tan. Discuss very briefly.

Julia Tychon and Damaris were already up and gathered in the kitchen. The girl looked upset that Solae was going to be leaving her large eyes downcast. Julia seemed to be unable to decide between relief and fear whereas Tychon merely looked resolved. Rene wondered if Julia had told her daughter of Solae’s offer. Probably not. He rather doubted any of them realised how serious she was. Solae’s family had suffered greatly in the past weeks and it was both her right and her responsibility to strengthen it. Adoption was a long established legal custom, though it was more usual between noble families, its use on commoners was not unknown. Damaris herself might suffer for being elevated to the nobility without the usual suite of genetic enhancements, but that would be no bar to her advancement in Imperial service. Few people would snub a member of the Falia clan and Damaris’ children would stand as high and proud as any member of that ancient lineage. Solae had mentioned some cousins of hers who converted the title. They were likely to throw a fit as spectacular as it was useless if a fisherman's daughter was inserted into the clan ahead of them.

“It sounds like they are landing at the Harvest Field,” Tychon said as he took a pot of coffee off a chemical heating unit. The Harvest Field was a large airfield on the northern end of San Roayo, the shippers warehouses lined the large open field where the stabilized coral was gathered before being shipped to the capital and the star port.

“Are you sure we don’t need to worry?” he asked nervously. Rene nodded his head.

“I don’t think we should tarry, but if they were looking with us they would have come in as a combat drop. This is probably just relief from the capital, or people surveying for relief anyway.” Rene didn’t mention that it did mean a large influx of people who might recognise Solae for what she was, and an errant noblewoman in a place like this was bound to set of alarm bells.

"Are you upset with me?" Solae asked Damaris with a gentle smile. She motioned towards the table and pulled out a seat for the adolescent, waiting for her to take it before pulling out the adjacent chair and setting it directly in front of her. They sat there, knees to knees, and the marquise took her young friend's hands in her own. This was as close as she could get to being eye level with someone so many years her junior that did not benefit of genetic modification making her taller. Tychon was taller than Solae, but not quite so tall as Rene, and it was incredibly unlikely his daughter would reach ever reach their heights given Julia's contribution. Nobility argued that the stature made them more godly, more impressive, and emphasized supposed natural leadership skills. For diplomats this was a deterrent to peaceful and intimate negotiations.

"While I am gone I want you to do something that is very important," she told the girl. "When I come back we'll talk about what you've decided you most want to be when you're an adult.. and I will do everything in my power to help you. Your mom, your dad, Rene, even I didn't get to chose anything we wanted, but that's something I want to do for you."

"You couldn't chose anything you wanted?" Damaris asked skeptically. She still looked sullen but Solae's proposal was starting to inject her with hope and excitement. Nothing would completely eradicate her disappointment that the aristocrat was leaving but this future gift certainly softened the blow.

"Even a princess has things they are told they can or can't be," she admitted softly. "I enjoy doing what I do now, but there were other things I wanted to do or be that my mother and father forbid. Have you ever seen a princess getting dirty fixing a space ship? That's why I want you to pick anything. You can be a lady of the courts, but you'll have to study really hard everything that a lady must know like other languages, who the famous artists of the galaxy are, how to eat at an imperial banquet, modern politics, the history of the Stellar Empire's establishment, and business management. If you don't want that you could be a doctor, a farmer, a lawyer, a scientist, an engineer, or anything else in the universe. It is a tough decision so ask your mom and dad to take you to the library to research each profession that interests you, okay?"

Julia and Tychon did not have intimate knowledge of what it meant to grow up wealthy and privileged, but they knew what she was saying to be true. Every individual, regardless of status, had certain expectations and restrictions put on them from birth. As elite members of the upper class Rene, Solae, Lord Armon, and their peers dedicated most of their childhood to an intense education on all facets of life. When they approached maturity professional pursuits were explored but only within proper societal norms. Rene already knew that Solae had been denied several hobbies that had piqued her curiosity. She could not reverse time and change the minds of her parents, but she could give Damaris an opportunity she never had, including the ability to choose title or reject it for something simpler but still out of her reach.

"It sounds hard but... I could really be a princess if I wanted?" Damaris repeated, still rather unconvinced.

"Yes. I don't have any children, so if your mom and dad allowed me I would name you as my heir. That would mean that if I died, and I was married to Rene and he died too, you'd become the next Marquise Falia, which is pretty close to a princess. If the empress makes me a duchess, then you'd be Duchess Falia."

"What if you do have children though?" Damaris persisted.

"I'm not certain yet if that will be possible," Solae responded carefully. Her perfect composure faltered for the briefest of moments and all the adults in the room could see the pain etched into her features. There was no reason to dive into the details of the surgery that prevented unwanted pregnancy for those who could not and would not subject themselves to the scandals of peasants. It was not a topic that Solae felt quite ready to approach so early in her relationship with her soldier lover. Damaris had not been wrong to pursue her line of thinking, especially since it was relevant to the discussion at hand, but someone more mature would have known it was a sensitive subject regardless of the audience. The truth was that the golden-haired scion dreamed of a family some day, one filled with laughter and joy, with compassion and warmth, and her interactions with Damaris were proof of the maternal instincts she held.

"Before we go I also have something for you," Solae told Julia. She rose from her seat and produced a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. "If you decide to leave Panopontus for any reason, I've listed all of the Falia holdings closest to here. They are still rather far away, but if you produce this they will be able to confirm that I wrote it with forensics, and they will host you until we're able to get back into contact. Think of it as an emergency back-up plan."

"Yes, well, perhaps we'll take a vacation after this is over," Julia said, trying not to become flustered or emotional.

"Would you mind if I kept your scarf for now? I can ship it back once..."

"Nonsense," Julia stated indignantly. "You gave us enough credit I could buy a new scarf for myself every day for the rest of my life if I wanted, so you'll take this one scarf of mine and keep it. I won't take it back, Lady Solae, not now or ten years from now. Use that to remember us and everything that happened here."

"Maybe not the Vitger part," Tychon interjected sourly with a dry sense of humor.

"We should get going before it gets closer to dawn," Solae said to Rene quietly. "It will be easier to take off from the caldera and avoid being followed if they can't spot us in the darkness. Between Mia and myself we should be able to minimize most of the external lights. By no means am I saying it will be an easy or smooth ride, but we'll avoid detection until we break through the second layer of the atmosphere at least."

Julia nodded and stepped forward enfolding Rene in a hug. Rene returned it awkwardly until she released him and hugged Solae in turn. Damaris repeated her mother's action, gripping so hard that it would have been painful if she were full grown. The upper orders eschewed physical contact on most occasions and despite circumstances the peasants forthright physicality was still a little uncomfortable.

Damaris wiped the tears from her eyes and smile, trying to put on brave face on the departure. It must seem to the girl like something from a holodrama. Being swept out to sea in a great storm, marooned on an island, meeting a beautiful princess from the stars. Rene supposed that when you thought of it in those terms it did sound exciting. Damaris had a child's view of it, she hadn’t been on the starship when it hurtled into the storm, or woken up in a cage stinking of fluorine worried that the person that she loved was in mortal peril. Rene found that he envied her.

The night was still black when Tychon, Solae and Rene set out. The streets weren’t as deserted as might be imagined. The throbbing wings of the jumpers had roused others from their sleep. To the people of San Roayo, the aircraft represented help, the knowledge that they weren't alone on a world which had savaged them. To Rene the knowledge that they weren’t alone was less than comforting. Men from the capital meant men which might be hunting for them, certainly it meant people who would recognise Solae’s hair, and the oddity would be enough to make them stop and look closer.

The warehouse was in darkness when they arrived. Tychon had shut off all the light before they left the previous afternoon, to ensure that there was no reason for any curious passersby to stop in an potentially discover Vitger. This district was almost completely dark, there were few residences and no one to stir by the arrival of the jumpers. Rene thanked the stars for small mercies. They carried small hand torches which illuminated the street with cones of light. Rene’s skin prickled unpleasantly, his instincts told him that they were making targets of themselves, that gunmen need only fire on the points of light, but that was the training talking and it wasn’t a useful response here.

“I’ll get the boat ready,” Tychon offered as they stepped into the office, his feet clinking on the fallen needles that had gone wide in Vitger’s attempt to take them captive. Rene nodded his head, the fisherman was far better qualified for the task, and he had one of his own to perform.

“I’ll speak to Vitger,” Rene declared. Solae looked at him, though he wasn’t exactly sure what the expression on her face meant. They had made the decision to let him live, but they had responsibilities to Damaris and her family too. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, but it had to be done.

The door of the shipping container was still locked and bolted. Rene had been afraid that Vitger might have somehow escaped or been rescued even though he knew that was vanishingly unlikely. It swung open easily and the acrid scent flowed out, mixed with the rank stink of human waste. The beam of Rene’s light illuminate Vitger who huddled in the corner to the extend his bonds allowed. The man had soiled himself and tried to shield his face from the sudden, and doubtlessly painful, light. He had soiled himself and he looked half mad with fear. It must have been terrible to wake up in the dark unable to move and with no way of knowing if anyone would ever come back for you. Rene wasn’t a cruel man and he had to remind himself that both Solae and Damaris’ family were depending on him.

Vitger moaned as Rene climbed into the container armed only with a spray can of adhesive removal agent. The merchant shrunk back from him but Rene seized him by the shirt and sprayed his taped mouth with the dispenser. There was an oddly sweet scent as the bonding agent decayed and then Rene ripped the cargo tape from his mouth.

“Please… please don’t kill me,” Vitger blubbered. Rene shoved him back against the container wall, hard enough to smack his head against the insulated plastic.

“Shut up,” he commanded, his voice cold, haughty and commanding. The stink made his stomach churn and bile rose to the back of his throat.

“Look I’ll give you anything… just…” Vitger whined.

“Shut. Up.” Rene repeated and Vitger quailed before him though he couldn’t physically shrink away.

“If you do exactly as we say you will survive,” Rene told him flatly.

“Yes! Any…” Vitger cut off as Rene shoved him hard against the wall again.

“Close your mouth and listen,” Rene growled.

“In a few hours Tychon is going to release you,” Rene told him in a flat matter of fact tone. Vitger sobbed with what might have been relief.

“If you ever tell anyone what happened here, the authorities are going to find somethings in your files that won't go well for you. Maybe they eventually believe you, but not until after the interrogators are done with you,” Rene explained. Imperial interrogation techniques were harsh though they weren’t needlessly cruel. What a rebel duke desperate for answers might do Rene didn’t want to think about.

“You can’t do that! You are just a rebel!” Vitger sputtered desperately. For the first time in the conversation Rene felt his anger rise. Vitger wasn’t an evil man, perhaps not even a disloyal one, he genuinely believed that Rene and Solae were rebels, but he was a worm and Rene felt the injustice of the situation attach to the whimpering merchant like a lamprey.

“Not that it matters,” Rene responded, his voice as chill and clipped as asteroid ice.

“But I am the highest ranking military official on this world. The woman you were fantasizing about is an Imperial Ambassador. As far as you are concerned Vitger, she is the Empress Mercedez Viatrente herself!” Rene snapped his fingers digging into Vitger’s shoulder like pincers.

“And if I were you Vitger, I’d pray for the good health of Tychon and his family, because we will be back here, and if any when we come back, if anything has happened to them, if so much as one hair on anyone of their heads has been harmed, I swear by all the Stars I will find you and you will wish that the Duke’s Interrogators had gotten to you first!”

Rene ripped a strip of tape from his belt and slapped it back over the mans mouth, quieting his sobs. He stood and walked stiffly from the container, dropped from the end, and closed and locked the door. Adrenaline and bile churned in his stomach and he let his head rest against it for a moment. He wasn’t a cruel man, but he needed to be hard, hard enough to protect Solae.

"What do you think you'll want to do after all this?" Solae asked Rene as he leaned against Vitger's container looking haggard.

"What?" he asked bewildered. The question and its timing was so unexpected that for a moment he forgot about the difficult situation they were in and the taxing conversation he just had. This was a tactic he had seen Solae use before. In her own way it was one of her ways of trying to cheer up someone who was immune to a more direct approach of fluffy compliments. A shrewd individual would typically spot flattery as a blatant attempt at manipulation, no matter how benevolent, and this could make them even more worn. Diversion to a new topic was a better way to move the mind on a pleasant track of thought.

"If we get to a PEA, we alert the Empress, we survive until her forces arrive, and we're shipped back to Cappela as heroes, you don't necessarily have to remain a marine- especially if I clear your name. It would be suspicious to reward only the marquise and not her dutiful bodyguard that contributed so heavily to the success of their mission. I'm not suggesting it will be a quick process but you should have a goal... besides marrying me of course," she said with a coy smile.

"Ship's ready!" Tychon called out as he poked his head into the warehouse.

"Saved by the interruption," Solae remarked with a wink though she didn't seriously expect an answer right then. Rene seemed to be only concerned with survival and nothing more. What she wanted to think of was something bigger, something to hope for, a dream he could seize that maybe he had forgotten. The coup and the brewing war was horrible, the attempts on their lives were traumatic, but that didn't mean they couldn't keep seeking ways to spin their negatives into victories.

Tychon had docked Vitger's ship; it already had three full containers of fuel from the efforts of the day prior. With only moonlight and what his vision allowed as it accustomed itself to darkness he had managed to lower the boat into the sea, tethered it to a small albeit practical structure that had survived the typhoon, and prepared it for the journey. He gestured both Rene and Solae over once they emerged from the building. Gentle rolling waves were lapping on the shore at his feet peacefully. None of them could hear the more subtle sounds of the ocean above the dull roar of the jumpers as they surveyed San Roayo.

"After you," Tychon offered.

"Rene can drive the ship, Tychon. It's better if you stay here," Solae diplomatically explained. The words hadn't even left her mouth before Tychon was shaking his head in protest.

"Lady Solae..." he began.

"Sir Tychon," she interjected.

Tychon blanched. Just like on any other planet sometimes the common folk would use polite honorifics with one another, but hearing a marquise as esteemed as Solae, whose position in the societal structure was so comparably lofty, call him 'sir' was rather horrifying. The noblewoman was already being more respectful than was necessary given her status. Tacking a lord's address before his name was yet another breach of protocol. "I'm no sir," he insisted.

"I'm rather tired of being Lady Solae, though, so if you persist in calling me Lady Solae I think it's only fair I be permitted to call you Sir Tychon," the blonde-haired beauty reasoned.

"I know these waters," Tychon stated with an obvious dodge of saying any name. "I'll be faster getting you to the caldera and you need to take off before the jumpers see you. I'll help you fuel and bring back the ship when I'm done. Shouldn't be spotted so long as I keep my lights off and I'm quick. No one will be looking for a fuel ship, they're all either looking at the damage to the city or their sensors will pick up you leaving, which will be a big distraction."

"I really don't want to put you in further danger, Tychon," Solae remarked with hesitation. Tychon's arguments were strong and, loathe as she was to admit it, she was quite persuaded.

"Everyone will be in a lot more danger if you get lost on your way back or go too slow, won't they?"

Solae looked to Rene but he shrugged. There was no perfect answer that would provide the fisherman's expertise and yet keep him safe at home with his family. She strongly suspected that her soldier fiancee had the same apprehensions she did but didn't have an alternative solution that was available- and they couldn't to afford to tarry longer. He was letting her take the proverbial reins on this decision and deferring to her judgment.

"We need to hurry," Solae sighed. She stepped up onto the short metallic dock and then down onto the ship. With their cargo it wouldn't be the most luxurious travel accommodations but there was sufficient room for all three of them. If the two men were too cramped she could sit on Rene's lap. It would look silly to a bystander but they would be veritably invisible in the night- not that Solae much cared about appearances after everything they had endured. Her image was the least of her worries with the exception of her highly identifying hair color.

Tychon cast off the lines off with the ease of long practice and returned to the controls. The smooth whir of a flywheel proceed the deep thrum of the engines as the pumps began to pressurise and then they were moving away from the dock out into the harbor. Though the boat must have had emergency lights, Tychon had deactivated them somehow so they were all but invisible save for the soft purr of the pumps driving the ship out onto the black water. The stars shone down from above but the moonlight was too slight to provide much illumination. Although it was still an hour or two before dawn the eastern sky was lighter with the promise of the coming dawn.

If the darkness bothered Tychon it didn’t show he maneuvered them easily out of the harbor and onto the open sea. The water was choppy and slapped against the hull as a wind rose to cap the greenish sea with white caps. Once they were well clear of the land Tychon touched another control and the outriggers began to extend on their hydraulic struts. An electrical tingle ran through the craft as the outriggers shimmered with induced current and the ship rose on the induced current to ride on its hydrofoils, the choppiness faded to be replaced by a greasy smoothness and they began to pick up speed as the drag of the hull through the water decreased.

“We couldn’t run on hydrofoil earlier, the waves would have swamped us!” Tychon called, raising his voice to be heard over the rush of the wind. Rene hadn’t been going to ask, he didn’t know enough about seafaring to have an opinion, but he nodded as though he understood. The boat was very cramped, it hadn’t been intended to carry a load nearly as large as this, but the problem was of volume rather than weight. San Roayo shrank behind them until it became an indistinct grey blob on the horizon.

Rene allowed himself to relax at last, the tension in his body easing as the threat posed by exposure to civilians lessened. The citizens of San Roayo were no worse than any in the Empire, better perhaps given the way they banded together to pull survivors from the rubble, but few people would resist the kind of reward the Duke was offering for Solae’s capture. The common people had no way to know that the Duke was, infact, a traitor to the Empire, so far as they were concerned turning Solae in was an act of patriotism, not betrayal.

Rene sat in the rear corner with Solae on his lap to give Tychon room to operate the controls. He was trying to plan out what their next move should be but Solae’s question back in Vitger’s shop had wormed its way into his mind. What did he want when this was over? Assuming they survived and got out of the Eastern Cross of course. Much depended on how things went in the coming days. If they warned the Empire and foiled the rebellion the Empress would certainly shower Solae with glory. Whether and how much that largesse would extend to Rene was an open question. Amelia’s murder, the murder of one of the Empress’ handmaidens, was tantamount to raising arms against the Empress herself. WIthout evidence to exonerate him, evidence that might not even exist, he couldn’t be certain that he would be pardoned. Worse yet, making the request might be considered to be violating the custom of taking a new name when enlisting in the Marines. Simply asking the question might make him Renard du Quentain again, subject to all penalties proscribed by the law. It was possible that he might asked to be raised to the nobility under his new name but that meant forever turning his back on his family title and estate. Two weeks ago that wouldn’t have been a problem but being with Solae had reminded him of who he was and what he was. It wasn’t fair to her to approach her as an upjumped commoner, she was a noble daughter of an ancient house and as such deserved more than that. Rene’s mouth twisted into a grin. Solae looked up at him questioningly.

“I was just thinking,” he said, squeezing her gently in his arms for a moment before gesturing back over the frothing wake of the vessel to the pale smudge of land that was San Roayo. By now the land was indistinguishable from a bank of fog or distant rain. Over the bow the island on which they had landed was visible as the peak of the half collapsed caldera. It was remarkable how much faster the trip went when you had a real boat and not a retrofitted wreck to make the journey.

“That our world, must seem needlessly complicated to people on the outside,” he confided. Rene knew that the sentiment was at least somewhat illusory. There were many things in Tychon or Julia’s world which were alien to his way of thinking as well. He squeezed Solae to him.

“I don’t know what is going to happen,” he confessed as the caldera grew larger on the horizon. The sky was beginning to lighten and the first rays of sunlight could only be a few minutes away. There was so much uncertainty. The odds were that they would be dead in the very near future, if she was lucky in Solae’s case, it was hard to imagine for a future much beyond that.

“Whatever happens, I want to be with you,” he told her, his voice caught with emotion and he forced himself to smile.

“Even if that means I have to be your gardener,” he joked, though it stuck a little in his throat. Solae deserved someone who could be her real partner, a true equal. Rene Quentain of the Imperial Marines could never be that to one of the great Nobles of the Empire.

"If you want to be a gardener I won't stop you, though I think it would be a gross waste of your talent and abilities," she said with a roll of her eyes as she reached back to ruffle his hair. Both Solae and Rene knew this really wasn't about a secret desire to pursue his passions in landscaping and herbalism.

"You need to have more faith," she scolded him. That was not to say she was not without doubts- she certainly had a mental breakdown after landing their ship through the hurricane- but it defeated the entire point of preparing for every outcome if one dismissed the more positive possibilities without serious consideration. They couldn't approach their goals with half a heart or be so shell-shocked at their success they didn't take proper advantage of a narrow window of opportunity. If and when they relayed their information to the empress Solae firmly believed they ought to know exactly what they wanted for rewards and how to navigate the political world. Right now they were simply surviving. Were they to enter safe sectors they'd be eaten alive if they tried to 'wing' the courts in the same manner. The Stellar Empire favored the bold, the shrewd, the composed, and the prepared.

Tychon glanced back towards Rene and Solae at the rear of the boat sheepishly. He could very easily hear their conversation over the waves and the engines due to the close quarters. The diplomat was not attempting to conceal what she was saying; she trusted Tychon this far and it would be callous (if not suspicious) to be trying to whisper in Rene's ear while he steered them across the ocean. If the patriarch was risking his life to give them aid the least they could do was show him respect as a peer and friend.

"Think of how the empress might view the situation," she pointed out. "This is not the only coup she has faced nor I imagine it will be the last. Her father left her a legacy of instability and there are always power-hungry individuals in any universe. She needs to set an example. The average citizen will not side with Duke Tan, but they will also not go out of their way to profess loyalty one way or another- they will seek the path of least resistance, of the least risk to themselves and their livelihood, unless they have compelling motivation otherwise. If we send our warning then the empress will have two people who have gone above and beyond. Instead of hiding we have pro-actively sought her out. Not just the aristocracy will want to know what rewards are granted to her most devout supporters."

"To the nobility the empress will want to send the message that she is generous, certainly, but what of the peasants? Of the soldiers? Of the labourers, fishers, farmers, and untitled? Would the empress want them to think they are to be ignored? That their heroism means nothing if they are not a lord or lady? You became a marine to clear your name, to be forgiven for something you did not even do, and so you must serve and sacrifice. If her imperial highness does not consider this sufficient payment and looks only to me- well, then she is dissuading people of many worlds to dare to reject usurpers, and teaching all of her realm that others might prize them more than she."

Tychon could not hide that he had gone almost slack-jawed at this speech. Not just anyone felt free to critically evaluate the ruler of their civilization with such objective candor. Some small part of him was in awe, another embarrassed to be intruding on a discussion of the high-born however inadvertently, and another was horrified at the lack of reverence.

"You too, Tychon. If I manage to return to Capella, I want you to think of what you'd like to do with your life. I have no use for my riches and, in light of this nightmare that is the rebellion, I intend to help my newest friends fulfill their dreams. You can tell me it is too much but know that I'll just use my best judgment to estimate what you want, then, so you may as well make sure I'm not making expenditures that run counter to your actual wants," she proclaimed.

Tychon opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it after a glance to Rene, and closed it quickly. A few more minutes stretched on before he called out over the tide breaking on a beach, "We're here!"

"One side of the caldera is partially collapsed. Do you think we can sail around to find which one it is?" Solae asked as she stood to get a better view. All their eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the night sky but it was still difficult to make out much more than shadows of rock formations. The trio squinted as they tried to discern the shape indicative of the opening that the marquise had mentioned. It would be easier to navigate their way to the Bonaventure itself if there was less distance to travel on foot.

"I can have Mia- that's our artificial intelligence assistant- turn on some of the lower lights to help visibility when we're fueling. The external sensors may be functioning well enough she can hear us now. Should I try to ask her to turn them on now so we're not quite so... functionally blind?" she inquired with Tychon more than Rene on account of his expertise.

Tychon nodded, though by now Rene knew the man well enough to understand that it was a place holder rather and an agreement. He was in unfamiliar territory and was doubtless afraid of making the wrong decision. Of course at sea, as in life, the worst decision was a failure to make one.

“Yes, um, I mean, if you think it is safe La… Solae,” he replied. They glided over the submerged reefs with ease and Rene began to see the versatility of the hydrofoils on a world like Panopontus. The barge that had ferried the three of them too shore had been too deep a draught for this kind of work. Behind them a trail of slightly phosphorescent algae marked their trail across the dark water. Doubtless they were of a type with the algae that had set the Caldera aglow when then energy of the landing had woke them.

Solae took a communicator out and spoke into it before nodding her head. Rene was slightly disappointed that no light was immediately visible, but if Tychon was he showed no sign, instead he curved his course northward circling the caldera. It was only a minute before they caught sight of a dull glow a cleft in the side of the caldera. Massive waves must have battered it over the millenia and eventually would shatter it completely turning the caldera into a lagoon, but that was the work of centuries or millennia.

The trim little craft arrowed in towards the beach at a broad angle, Tychon was taking any chances of wrecking them though that was caution rather than need. The caldera had once been the crown of an volcano and hence the water, following the slope of the mountain, deepend quickly here on the leeward side. The waves drove them towards the edge of the caldera but here again the deep water was a boon, converting what would have been white caps on a shallower stretch of coast into an insistent slapping.

The hum of electricity cut and the hull sloshed into the water as Tychon turned the hydrofoil off and picked up a large anchor of sharply angled metal, he tossed it over the side with a splash. The sudden silence was disconcerting after the constant high frequency hum of the hydrofoils and Rene found himself feeling jumpy. After a moment Tychon touched another control and an electric winch began to retrieve anchor cable around a small spool after a moment the line went slack and the boat jerked violently. Rene nearly lost his feet by Tychon merely looked embarrassed.

“Sorry,” the fisherman said, though the smile on his face was that of an expert watching amatuers in his domain. With careful manipulation he paid out cable from the winch allowing the boat to drift closer and closer to the wall of the caldera until the steep rocky shore stood only a few meters away.

“Someone will need to secure a line to the rocks,” Tychon called, easiy audible now that the wind and the engine noise were gone. Rene stepped to the rear, the section of the boat, closest to the land and took a length of coiled rope from Tychon.

“Should I tie it to a landing skid or…” but Tychon was already shaking his head.

“The rocking of the boat will chafe it against the rock if you do that,” he explained and drew a small device from a compartment. The thing resembled a large stapler.

“This will put a tie int the rock, it will hold us long enough,” Tychon explained. The fisherman clearly would have prefered to be handling this part, but as Rene had only the barest notion of how to operate the boat, he was the obvious choice. Taking the stapler he clipped it to his belt and leaped the two meters to the caldera, catching at the tough viney growth which covered the steep rise to stop himself sliding back into the water. Carefully, he pressed the stapper to the bare rock and pulled the small trigger in the butt of the thing. There was a sharp pop of compressed gas and the stapler kicked against Rene’s hand. When he withdrew it, a two inch eye bolt had been driven into the stone, similar to those climbers used to ascend rock faces. Rene fed the rope through the eye and looked back at Tychon, uncertain how to tie it off. The fisherman shook his head and made a ‘throw it here’ motion. Rene put his food on the bolt and tossed the coil of remaining line to Tychon who secured it to the boat, which steaded now that it had two points of contact. Evidently the winch had enough play in it that the rocking of the waves wasn't a problem. Rene turned back to the rock and placed two more studs as hand holes and then climbed into the lowest point of the tumbledown.

In the caldera beyond, the Bonaventure stood much as they had left it, save that the water from the hurricane had drained away. As Solae had surmised the landing skids were sunk several inches deep into the volcanic ash that formed the lumpy grey floor. Emergency lighting by the main hatches and at the nose and stern of the vessel burned a cheerful green. The nose light blinked off for a moment and then lit again, leaving Rene with strange notion that Mia had just winked at him. A grin spread across his face. He turned to see Tychon speaking with Solae, he had an inflatable raft in his hands but she shook her head, put one foot on the line and jumped over the remaining distance to catch onto the vegetation as Rene had. He grinned wider at his fiance and reached down to help her up into the cleft.

“Welcome home,” he said with a smile as she looked over the edge of the caldera to where the bonaventure stood cheerfully illuminated.

“If the mistress cares to inspect the house,” he said with a courtly bow made slightly ridiculous by the fact that he was reaching down with his free hand to catch another length of rope Tychon was tossing him. The other end of it was secured to a length of flexible hosing, though it would take both men to muscle that up over the caldera wall.

“I’ll make sure that the gardens are in order.”

The bottom of the caldera was no longer filled a large pool of water; much of the liquid had evaporated leaving only remnants of algae and a thick, dense mud that felt stable under her feet one moment and like quicksand the next. There was no real danger of being trapped and sucked down into the muck, but Solae still tread carefully if only so as to not risk the loss of a boot. Moving more lightly and quickly was key to keep the wet earth from fracturing. Rene and Tychon were close enough nearby to offer assistance if she became mired, yet the noblewoman had her pride, and didn't want to paint herself as a lady who was overly reliant on her male companions for mundane physical endeavors.

"Lady Solae," Mia purred. She lowered the ramp to the hold obligingly without needing to be instructed.

Solae sprinted up onto the metallic gangway and let out a sigh of relief. They had joked about it recently, but the Bonaventure truly had become their home. The marquise was uncertain if any of her other holdings would ever have the unique appeal of this vessel. The Bonaventure was responsible for their escape from death, was hers and Rene's first place of their own even if stolen, and was a refuge during a tumultuous time when all else was in a constant state of change.

"It is good to hear you again Mia," she greeted sincerely. The synthetic sentience's inappropriate tone was comically refreshing and seemed to lighten a bit of the load off her shoulders. Never would she have imagined that computerized flirting from a female voice would be any comfort. As layers of stress were peeled off her psyche she strode inward and to the cockpit to assertively take the pilot's seat. Reluctant as she was to be at the controls again there was a necessity for the most skilled navigator to take the helm if they were to successfully evade nearby jumpers. Just because the jumpers were currently providing humanitarian aid, or assessment in anticipation of future aid, did not mean they could not or would not give chase to a fleeing foreign spacecraft.

"Will Sir Rene be joining us?" Mia inquired breathlessly.

"Yes, yes he will," she laughed lightly as she powered on the screens adjacent to her. "He and our newfound friend, Tychon, are going to be refueling and helping to free the ship in preparation for take off. While they are doing that I thought it was best if you and I began to look at the available destinations. Can you please pull up stellar charts of the nearest accessible planets?"

"My apologies, Lady Solae, but I need more parameters. What fuel limitations and planet requirements should I utilize to best find a match to yours and Sir Rene's needs?" One might have thought that data analysis might be a dry enough topic to make Mia slip back into a more formal tone. Instead of sounding dry and severe, however, she sounded what could only be described as both sultry and excited. Computers weren't capable of true emotion but the aristocrat idly wondered if they didn't have some sort of response to being in disuse as opposed to actively performing tasks.

"Let's narrow the field to worlds with a PEA and the shortest jump. I don't want to use all our fuel on the first trip in case we arrive and discover the PEA is broken or destroyed," Solae declared as she leaned back in her seat thoughtfully. Returning to Cappela itself wasn't an option because of the distance. They could theoretically try to push themselves to the brink by jumping as far as possible, but the strain on the freight ship and themselves could result in permanent damage if not destruction. There was a reason that there were PEAs for sending imperial missives across the universe: there was no perfect way to go from one point to another instantaneously no matter how many resources were at hand.

"The closest planet with a PEA is Zatis," Mia began. "I have a duty to warn you, Lady Solae, that is largely governed by a criminal element which does not show deference to authority figures of the Stellar Empire."

"Why does it have a PEA if that's the case?" Solae asked, knitting her brows together as she pulled up an image of Zatis on her screen. Topographical images indicated the surface was rocky with three large oceans and relatively little greenery given the size of the five continents. If she had spent more time studying astrogeology she might have been able to discern why vegetation was so sparse. Unfortunately most of her education had focused on politics, modern etiquette, history, and the finer arts than sciences. Her late parents did not know what a disservice they had done.

"Records indicate that the Stellar Empire has a standing agreement with Zatis not to interfere with their activities in exchange for allowing them spies as well as providing certain information including, but not limited to, illicit dealings by the nobility, black market trading, private weapon deals, and mercenaries specializing in eradicating targets. Official imperial stance is that is better to have a treatise with Zatis to monitor the worst criminal activity rather than driving it underground completely."

"I see. And the PEA is to facilitate this arrangement?" Solae deduced shrewdly. "If they won't be ruled by the Empress I have my doubts that Duke Tan will convince them to declare their allegiance."

"Lady Solae..." Mia started with a hint of worry in her dulcet tones.

"I know. They will not be loyal to our cause and the bounty will be an attractive bait. Even taking that into account, it sounds like the sort of place where we will not need to hide our weapons, give our real names, and many people disguise ourselves. Besides, I trust in Rene's ability to protect us- don't you?" It was a rhetorical question. Before Mia could try to answer a query that the marquise truly did not want to discuss, she followed with a command. "Chart a course for Zatis. Once Rene boards we can discuss this with him further if he decides we need an alternative."

"Yes, Lady Solae," Mia chirped.

"How are you doing out there in the gardens?" Solae asked as she picked up her communicator keyed to the frequency of Rene's matching device. Erring on the side of caution she decided not to use the external broadcast; besides, this was the easiest way to hear a clear reply from Rene should his hands not be full with his own task.

The mud squelched underfoot as Tychon and Rene hauled the fueling pipes across the uncertain footing. The muddy surface of the caldea sucked and pulled at their boots. It was tough work, particularly because the hose kept sticking against the crack in the rock and one of them would have to hike back an unsnare it, but the hose was to heavy for one man to move alone so they couldn’t spare one of them to watch it. Finally, sweating and half coated in mud and volcanic ash, Rene lifted the hose to the fueling nipple and clamped it shut. With some difficulty he pried open the manual fuel controls and removed the safety pin from the emergency fuel dump control, a large lever of faded red plastic.

“Stand clear!” he called, even though Tychon was already well clear of the discharge ports, it paid to be careful afterall, and then threw the lever. Liquid helium three sprayed from the three discharge ports on the starboard side in a cloud of gaseous vapor, flash freezing the water and cascading rainbow iridescence across the water. The sound was loud enough that Rene had to cover his ears with his hands, but it was short lived. The tanks were already low and the high pressure drove the fluid out in a few seconds, sublimating it to gas as it passed through the one way valves in into the atmosphere. A green led light up in the control box, indicating that the tanks had been evacuated.

“How are you doin out there in the gardens?” Solae’s voice rang in Rene’s ear. He grinned although couldn’t see the expression.

“All is well M’lady,” he replied with a warm feeling spreading through his chest.

“Can you light starboard 3? We need to run out the lines,” he asked. There was a moment's hesitation as Solae either found the control or relayed the instruction to Mia, and then the rearmost starboard thruster, the one furthest from Rene, roared to life. With its petals irised fully open the thrust was dispersed enough that it only rocked the vessel slightly. For a moment it poured fire down towards the ground and raised a hissing cloud of sizzling steam, then it stuttered and went out, all the fuel expended. Because starship reaction mass needed to be ionically pure they had to empty out both the tank and the lines before they refueled. WHile Helium 3 wouldn’t react with fluorine, a sudden drop in purity would cause the reaction to fluctuate unsteadily, not something you wanted to worry about when the word ‘fusion’ was in anyway involved. Rene was once again glad for all the shit jobs that had been heaped upon him during his training. If he had known that pulling extra duty on landing craft would save his life, he might have gone to it a bit more gladly.

“Alright Tychon, Start the pumps,” Rene called through cupped hands. The hoses thrashed for a moment as the powerful pumps on the boat came online and Rene felt them thrum beneath his hands as fluorine began to pulse through the lines beneath his hands. A minute later Tychon appeared from the gap in the caldera wall, a sack cloth bag thrown over his shoulder and a small wooden handed shovel in his hands. Rene sighed eloquently. Join the Marines they said, see the galaxy they said.

It took Rene and Tychon almost a half and hour to place one of the poppers under each landing skid. It was a dirty job, digging down through the ashy mud to set the small explosives before covering them back up and packing the dirt down on top of them so that the blast propagated properly. Rene was a little uncertain about the whole idea but Tychon was certain that it would work and the Marine could only defer to his greater experience. They made a sorry pair when they both clambered up the access way, covered in mud and soaked to their skins, but the job was done and Rene was eager to be away. The pumps had transferred over 80 percent of the fuel, and would complete the job within another ten minutes.

“Sir Rene,” an arch yet slightly disapproving voice, greeted him as he stepped through the open airlock.

“You are hardly in a fit state to entertain your paramour!”

Tychon blinked taken aback both by the disembodied voice and by its sensuous tone. AIs were common enough in the upper echelons of Imperial society, but it was unlikely that there were more than one or two on the entire planet of Panopontus.

“That is Mia, she is our…” Rene trailed off as he realised that he had no idea how to end the sentence.

“I am Lady Solae’s Major Doma,” Mia purred. Tychon blinked clearly having no more idea of who or what Mia was than he had a moment ago.

“Uh, I am Tychon, pleased to meet you,” he replied uncertainty.

“Welcome Sir,” Mia replied, “If you would proceed to the bath house…”

Rene surrendered and ten minutes later he and Tychon, freshly showered stepped onto the bridge where Solae sat at a holographic terminal. The had dressed in the cast offs they had salvaged from the previous crew, which if not perfectly clean were at least comfortable. Rene smiled, well they didn’t have much time for shopping on this planet fall.

“I uh..,” Tychon began glancing around the bridge in wonder. It was a fair bet he had never been on a starship before. The Bonaventure was hardly the bright light of anyone's fleet, but the level of technology casually on display was certainly greater than anything Tychon had ever seen.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Tychon burst out, “for saving my daughter and all that you have done!”

"Tychon, you did just as much for us- or more- in my mind. Nobility is called wealthy because of our material possessions, but you shared your wealth of a wonderfully loving family, your time, and your loyalty. As I am sure Rene can tell you that is in short supply in the aristocracy. I have every intention of visiting you again in the future so believe me when I say that I'll have to be dead before I won't keep that promise," she said with a wink. "Mia?"

"Yes, Lady Solae?" the artificial intelligence purred through a speaker positioned directly behind and to the right of where Tychon was standing. He jumped, clearly startled, though it was unclear if it was the sudden sound or the inappropriate sultry tone of a 'woman' in so close proximity that he found more alarming. The older man edged away from the speaker in a couple discreet, yet stiffly awkward, shuffles.

"I think it's only fitting we give Tychon a short ride, don't you? It would be shame if he drove us to this island, fueled the Bonaventure, and then didn't get to experience her flying before he left. We endeavor to be good, gracious hosts do we not, Mia?" It was hard to tell if Solae was doing this truly as a reward for Tychon or purely because it gave her such a strong sense of satisfaction personally. Truthfully it was a little of both. Very few scions in all the empire took as much delight in gifting others as she did. The marquise sincerely found joy in sparking such emotions in others regardless of the 'cost' involved.

"O-Oh, that's not necessary..." Tychon tried to protest. Experience should have taught him that trying to dissuade Solae was a fruitless endeavor in most things but he felt compelled to try. Like many of his peers who spent their entire lives on a singular planet, he had not spent any time inside a vessel that traveled between the stars, and it was more than a touch frightening of a concept in execution.

"Where will we be flying to, Lady Solae?" Mia inquired as if Tychon had not voiced any half-hearted objection at all.

"We'll just hop over the side of the caldera," Solae explained calmly as she turned back towards her navigation console. "Mia, I'd like you to use our thrusters to heat the ground underneath the ship as much as possible. Rene and Tychon have placed something called 'poppers' underneath that we need to detonate if we're going to get free of the mud trapping us here."

"Understood Lady Solae. May I suggest that Sir Rene and Sir Tychon take seats as is standard safety procedure for any lift offs or landings?" she cooed sweetly.

The pair barely had the time to scramble for a place to sit before they heard the hold's ramp slide back inside, the door hiss as it sealed itself shut, and felt Mia engage the thrusters as directed. The Bonaventure shuddered briefly as the force from the thrusters struggled against the ensnaring muck. They were jerked upwards no more than a few seconds later as the poppers exploded under the baked earth and forced the mire to release the Bonaventure. Solae was prepared, however, and using the controls at her console kept them from going too far into the atmosphere. The ship eased the last few meters up over the edge of the caldera's wall, glided forward so the rear had clearance, and then began a smooth descent.

In the distance all three could see the the shadowy outline of San Roayo. It was not yet daybreak but the arrival of the Jumpers had awoken the city prematurely. Lights glittered in the windows of those fortunate enough to still have functioning lanterns or secured power sources. Because they had no need for subterfuge the Jumpers were easy to spot with their external lights, meant to keep similar aircraft from colliding with them due to the low visibility conditions, and bright beams surveying the ground beneath them for a visual assessment of the conditions. The cabin the trio sat in was dark with their only illumination the displays that Solae was utilizing to pilot.

"I'm sorry it's not a better view," Solae apologized. No one might want to admit it aloud but it was undeniable that San Roayo in all its glory would have been breathtaking. It was obvious she was crippled without being close; there were large swaths of nothingness on the southernmost edge of the coastline.

"It's beautiful," Tychon breathed, slack-jawed with awe. He had never seen his home like this and would not, in all likelihood, see it from a higher vantage point such as this unless Solae and Rene successfully returned. It was something to pensively look forward to though not the most enticing boon of their possible reunion.

"This should be a lot easier without a typhoon," Solae said with a sideways glance to Rene. The Bonaventure, still facing the sea, finished its gradual dip until it was a few kilometers above the sand. The noblewoman had anticipated the heat from their thrusters creating complications if they landed on the beach, so rather than rely on them completely for control she had dialed them back once they had cleared the top rim of the caldera, and let gravity tug them down in a carefully monitored fall. It was not the softest landing the freight shipper was capable of but it was exponentially better than when they had gone through the hurricane.

"Mia, would you please extend the ramp for Tychon?" Solae asked politely.

"Of course, Lady Solae. Is there anything else you require, Sir Tychon, before you leave us?" she asked breathlessly. Had it been a flesh-and-blood being it would have sounded like an open invitation to her bedroom instead of a considerate farewell.

Tychon blushed furiously at Mia’s tone and shook his head mutely. Rene supposed it was possible that one eventually got used to Mia, but he certainly hadn’t as yet. The Hydralics groaned as the ramp was extended and Rene stood and clasped the fisherman forearm to forearm.

“I hope we meet again,” he said honestly. Solae rose from the controls for a moment and murmured her farewell to Tychon and then Rene walked him to the landing ramp, the air outside was biting with ozone roiled from the thrusters but if it bothered Tychon he gave no sign of it. Rene paused for a moment, and raised his hand in farewell, and then touched the control that began raise the ramp. Tychon turned and shouted something, but it was lost over the sound of the Bonaventure.

A sudden beeping came from the cabin and Rene swiviled his head to see what was going on, before he could however Mia’s voice interrupted him.

“There are several aircraft lifting from the local air field,” the computer explained with the sensual relish of a debutant announcing that her parents wouldn’t be home for several hours. The sensors on the Bonaventure were not Fleet quality, but even the most rundwon tramp needed to be able to chart interstellar space and so they were more than enough to pick up a couple of jumpers lifting in response to an unexpected starship launch. Rene swore and turned to glance through the narrowing aperture but Tychon was already trotting away toward the treeline, plenty far enough that they could light the thrusters.

Ducking back through the companionway Rene clambered into his seat beside Solae and strapped himself in. The sensor board registered the contacts almost two miles away, almost precisely in the center of San Roayo. It was very unlikely that they were armed, and even less likely they would fire on the vessel without knowing to whom it belonged but there was no percentage in waiting around for what, at best, would be an awkward discussion. Solae waited till his buckle clicked and he nodded to her, letting her know Tychon was clear, before she lit all six thrusters and they rocketed skyward, drawing enough Gs to squeeze them both against their seats. The ship rocked and buffeted as it sped up through the atmosphere, leaving the slow moving aircraft far behind. There would be logs of the encounter of course, but at the very worse they would be identified as an interloping freighter, dozens or hundreds of which plied this area of space.

The atmosphere peeled back like a veil and suddenly they were faced with the dark backdrop of space. Behind the Bonaventure streams of vapor trailed like a comet’s tail as the last of the water vapour and atmospheric material burned away. The sensor switched seamlessly from their atmospheric mode to their stellar configuration and Rene’s display a three dimensional view of space centered on Panopontus sprang to life. A trio of small bright dots trailed notations. One was BVT, the computer designation for the Bonaventure, the others were labeled COS and CAP. Rene touched each dot and expanded the names. The transponders identified the as the City of Saint Lawrence and the Cappadocia, both unremarkable freighters of unremarkable registry. There were no warships or suspicious vessels on the screen. Rene leaned back allowing himself to feel safe for the first moment since they had dropped out of jump space days before.

“Looks like we are clear,” he breathed swiveling his chair to smile at Solae, his face transfigured with relief.

“So what is our next move?” he asked before throwing his arms around Solae and kissing her in relieved delight.

Solae could not help but tense slightly at the innocent question of where they were headed to next. Internally she knew it was not her fault, at least not not entirely, that they were escaping from the trials of one world only to thrust them into yet another complicated scenario on another. The marquise had certainly not been the mastermind behind the coup. More than once she had caught her mind wandering to the strategic weaknesses in Duke Tan's plot that she would not have missed. Regardless of where the blame could be placed she knew that her response to his query would dampen his spirits considerably.

"Mia, can you take us clear of Panopontus and to the jump point we charted earlier?" she asked politely with a diplomatic sidestep of Rene's inquiry. There was a knot forming in the pit of her stomach in anticipation of his distaste for their next stop and how quickly his joy would erode at their poor prospects. Ironically the devastated city of San Roayo had more wealth in the form of stability and hope than the duo that was clearing their orbit.

"Lady Solae, I can not make final preparations until Sir Rene has informed consent of our destination," Mia purred as if they were in the midst of discussing an illicit affair rather than interstellar travel. Solae was stricken with the sudden desire to retire to the captain's quarters with her lover and pretend the rest of the universe simply didn't exist. Had they any chance of actually staying indefinitely free and hidden she might have seized the opportunity. The rebellion forces had made mistakes but none so large that they would miss the small vessel adrift one jump from New Concordia.

"Yes, I understand," she sighed with resignation in her voice. "The closest planet with a functional PEA is Zatis."

"Sir Rene, I am obligated to inform you that Zatis has an extremely prevalent cultural criminal element," Mia told the soldier beau with such overt sensuality that Solae felt like an intruder on intimate pillow talk. The artificial intelligence hadn't particularly bothered her before, because they did not interact all that often, but she could only imagine the reaction of Lord Armon's less brief paramours. Not all of them would have been fans of a computer emulating the seductive tones traditionally reserved for romantic entanglements.

"Criminal element?" Rene repeated with obvious warranted concern.

"Yes, Sir Rene. The Stellar Empire has an arrangement with Zatis wherein they do not interfere with illegal activities, and let the planet informally govern itself, so long as the empire is notified of certain crimes against the Stellar Empire as a whole. Additionally, the Stellar Empire is allowed espionage agents to monitor the more egregious transactions that takes place."

"If they won't let the empress rule over them then Duke Tan should have a more difficult time as well," Solae interjected quickly. What went unsaid, however, was that there would be that many more people who were not loyal to any ideals and would want to claim the bounty (and more) on Rene and Solae. Mercenaries would be more common than heroes on Zatis- if any of the latter existed on the surface at all.

"It's a gamble but no one on Zatis will think anything of people in disguise. It's our best shot at getting a message to another outpost or embassy before we're found. It's not the optimal solution but we can't run forever. I promise that once we've sent our warning we can retreat to wherever you think is best. Stars, we can come back here to Panopontus if you believe Duke Tan would be fooled by returning to a place we already departed," she suggested.

"Sir Rene?" Mia asked breathlessly waiting for his judgment.

Rene sucked in his breath, at the suggestion. Zatis was something of a special case in the sector, though there were other places in the Stellar Empire where making concessions was easier than crushing a planet. Sometimes the only thing that would stop the locals from shooting at each other was bringing in Imperial troops for them to shoot at. Bowie had been born on Zatis, or so he claimed, and if half the stories were true it was no place he wanted to take Solae. Rene opened his mouth to object but then closed it. Solae wasn’t a fool, even if she sometimes tended to underestimate risks, she wouldn’t suggest Zatis lightly. It had a PEA that was at least theoretically operational. They had no way to know what if anything the Duke had done, but it was a fair bet that he had people there, an Imperial Intelligence presence would be too much to ignore, but if nothing else the locals wouldn’t be in the Dukes pocket.

“Mia are there any records of who the PEA operator on Zatis is,” Rene asked.

“Unknown…,” Mia purred, as though it were some sexual secret she was looking forward to exploring. Rene sighed in slight irritation.

“Mia can you access the data dump from either of those two Freighters, do they have any information on the conditions on Zatis?” he asked.

“Neither vessel has touched at Zatis in the past year Sir Rene,” Mia informed him. Of course they hadn’t because no sane merchant would go to such a place, and if they did, they would certainly scrub the data from their automated systems. No sane person would go there. The thought lingered in his mind, perhaps this course was so unpredictable that it actually became an advantage.

Rene tried to juggle the different factors in his mind but he knew that it was an almost impossible task. There were too many factors, too much was unknown to allow him to do anything other than guess. At least this had the virtue of being a plan, a definite goal they could work towards. During his training Rene had learned the lesson that no decision was worse than failing to make a decision and that when in doubt attack. His heart twisted at the thought of putting Solae in danger, but then she was in danger wherever she went until they were back in Imperial space, or the Rebels were crushed. Feeling the weight of the decision he opened his mouth and said:

“I aggre with Solae Zatis it, is, set course Mia,” he declared. Solae made a small adjustment to their vector to align them with the jump point.

“Wait,” Rene said, “We shouldn’t jump while those other ships are in sensor range,” he said, indicating the glowing dots on the PPI.

“Mia set course back to New Concordia,” he instructed, “We can jump a light hour away then alter course, if they are interrogated it will look like we are doubling back.” Solae confirmed the course after Rene explained his logic and the ship leaped into jumpspace and away from Panopontus, leaving a shivering oily feeling in Rene bones. Almost as soon as it began the jump ended and they were dumped back into real space. They were now almost a light day from Panopontus, whose star was just a slightly brighter dot in the void. No ship sensor was accurate enough to track a ship out this far. Solae bought them onto the new heading and Rene flashed her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Well M’lady,” he said with a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, “how many great ladies will be able to claim to have been to a place like this.” The jump drive engaged, hurling them towards Zatis and all the uncertainty. Rene reached and and squeezed Solae’s hand. Whatever happened, at least they would be together.

__________________________________

“I am beginning to dread these little chats General,” Duke Alexis Tan said with a scowl as the last of the courtiers cleared out of his self styled throne room. Since declaring himself Emperor the Duke had replaced the columns that supported the roof of the audience chamber with large columns of blue black spherite each treated with laser impingement to create tiny particles of phosphorescence within, mimicking the star scapes of important worlds in the Eastern Cross. The technique was designed to mirror the Celestial Palace on Cappela through the nods to individual worlds was a touch more egalitarian than the rendering of the Cappelian starscape that adorned the Empress’ Throne Room.

General Antigony Bhast, the Duke’s head of Intelligence and covert operations, was a practical woman who viewed such frippery as a frivolous waste of resources, though intellectually she could understand the value of a shared feeling of nationhood, her cold analytical mind tended to convert things to simple equations of force. It was hard to quantify a feeling, and so she found it hard to give them equal weight to numbers of men, ships and munitions.

“I regret that,” Bhast responded, her tone so neutral that not even a veteran political operative like Tan dould interpret it, though it's very blandness suggested something.

“I assume from the lack of an urgent message that you haven’t yet managed to capture our wayward Marquessa?” Tan asked, his tone light but the slight tightening around his eyes betraying his anger and frustration. The lack of instant communication had been a hindrance at the start of the Rebellion but it was rapidly becoming a thorn. When Imperial forces finally responded to events here, the lack of such communication would be devastating.

“We have not,” Bhast responded austerely. She lifted her forearm and entered a series of commands into a communicator around her wrist. The air around the Duke’s throne shimmered as an active cancellation field dropped into place from the outside the throne appeared a blur of color and no sound penetrated the field save for a soft buzzing of junk low frequency sound waves. Inside the pocket of silence a holographic projection sprung to life. Some were the familiar picts of Solae Falia, taken from surveillance footage and official Imperial archives. The remainder were of a tall rather striking man in grainy security cams.

“We have made some progress my Lord,” Bhast said, touching a key. A series of of new images flashed up. One was a post recruitment ID photo taken from a Marine Corp medical file. Another was a younger version showing the same man at a glittering gala with a woman on his arm.

“Our mystery gunman revealed,” the Duke said, leaning forward with interest that banished his former pique.

“One Rene Quentain, a private in the Imperial Marines,” Bhast agreed, then quirked a finger to enlarge the more glamorous image.

“As you know it is common for those enlisting in the marines to adopt false names, normally this to cover some petty crime, or escape some trouble on their homeworlds. In this case it's a little more impressive..”

“This isnt the Du Quentain who murdered a handmaiden is it?” Tan asked, enough of an Imperial aristocrat to be shocked by the scandal of it.

“The very same,” Bhast responded dryly.

“What are the odds of him ending up with her? It can’t be just chance can it? Some kind of deep cover imperial intelligence?” Tan asked, scowling at his intelligence chief.

“Something dosen’t add up,” Bhast agreed.

“If he is some kind of deep cover Imperial agent, why use something so close to his real name, there were some rumors about spies on New Concordia but as best I can tell he was assigned to a battery in the middle of nowhere. Hardly prime intelligence gathering duty.”

Tan glowered at the photos for a long moment trying to puzzle out what could have bought a disgraced former aristocrat and the most important noblewoman in the sector together.

“Reach out to our contacts on Zatis, see what you can find out….”

"How far are we from Zatis?" Solae inquired as soon as they had lurched out of the jump point closest to the planet in question. Stars and black holes were the anchor points, typically called 'horizons,' that allowed such quick interstellar travel. Occasionally there was a world only an hour or two away from one but it was never practically habitable. The marquise knew from experience it would take some time to arrive at their destination.

"Twenty-two hours and twenty-three minutes," Mia purred.

"Excellent. That gives me plenty of time to start dissecting the information I downloaded at the communications center," Solae announced as she squeezed Rene's hand and rose from her seat. There were a few different interfaces capable of porting in data collected and stored on external sources. Fortunately the cockpit's was within reach and had been previously tested when Mia herself was uploaded. The diplomat used an unassuming thick cable to connect her device to The Bonaventure.

"Mia, can you extract everything on here for me? I think the hold is probably the best place to start making a map," she mused aloud. It would be difficult to much more than pilot or read quietly to herself in this miniature command center. While it might be efficient for steering the ship it would be woefully inadequate space for spreading out everything into a visual array.

"The hold, Lady Solae?" Mia asked breathlessly as if she lived for the sort of excitement that could come from decompressing figures and documents.

"I want to be able to make hand-written notations and plot all our evidence into something a little more complicated than can be handled in a conventional display," the noblewoman tried to explain. "It'll help me make sense of things and see the patterns that are more intuitive than statistical. I'd still like you to run your own analysis, Mia."

"What should I analyze, Lady Mia?" there was a sultry trill that sounded much more like genuine excitement than it ought to. Artificial intelligence was purposefully programmed as to not anything remotely similar to feelings no matter how accurately they emulated emotions. Solae was finding, however, that some clever coder had made Mia seem to want to be put to use. Perhaps it was an invention meant to make users feel more at ease given commands, or because they didn't want their machinery 'complacently' idle, but it was nice to feel camaraderie with the computerized entity.

"We're investigating the murder Sir Rene was accused of. You and I know he is innocent but the rest of the universe does not. We're going to find out what ripples were caused by Amellia's death and Rene's presumed guilt. Flag any intersections- people who benefited from both even if indirectly. We want to correctly track social gains such as stature, monetary gains from trade agreement forged as a response to this crime, and we also want to track the losses. People are more likely to take a risk for a big reward than pure revenge," Solae prattled on as she made her way towards the hold. There weren't many writing instruments or loose sheets of paper but she would make do with what was available. She had always found scribbling things down manually in shorthand helped her recall more easily. All the genetic advancements in the Stellar Empire couldn't make learning and memorizing a completely effortless process.

"Understood, Lady Solae," Mia acknowledged.

By the time Solae had reached the hold and called up the data packet on her screen she was already overwhelmed with how much raw intelligence there was to process. Most, and regrettably maybe all, of it would be of little use in their endeavor. The murderer might be hiding among these little shreds of truth but most of Capella was innocent of any meddling with either the deceased handmaiden or her exiled paramour. With a flick of her hand she decided to focus first on the Du Quentain family themselves, starting with the patriarch. Her heart fell into her stomach as his image and attached article appeared in perfect clarity.

"Alric Du Quentain has wed..," she murmured. The notice was dated less than a year after Rene's enlistment. Given the standard length of engagements, either Rene's father had been planning this as soon as he heard his son was accused or he had rushed his betrothal. The former scenario would imply that the elder Du Quentain had never once believed that his heir was innocent of murder... or at least he was as good as guilty. The latter scenario would suggest some sort of societal or economic struggle that would compel a widower to finally marry. Few aristocrats wed for love and Alric did not strike her as a romantic figure.

Solae swore under her breath. "Mia, page Rene and tell him he needs to come here right now."

The space vessel was not so vast that it took much time to get from one area to another. Rene came jogging, his brow creased in concern, because Solae's message sounded urgent and that provoked worry from the paramour. Solae stepped in-between the soldier and the digitized portrait of his father that was in crisp color on the screen behind her. Although he could have glimpsed it there was little chance he could have caught more than a glance of the image- the text was too difficult to read without drawing closer.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Rene asked her.

"Rene, your father remarried and... had another child," she said as she took one of his hands into her own. He might be shocked. Rene might have even considered this might happen. Male nobility had their sperm frozen and stored at sexual maturity for a variety of practical reasons so there was no fertility issues in an older man; for all intents and purposes their genetic contribution was no different than if they were in their prime. All that was required is they find a woman or surrogate of child-bearing age. For the prestigious lineages there were many that would volunteer for a position because the union would net them power, influence, wealth, and a modicum of control through their progeny.

Rene gripped Solae’s hand in mute shock. Intellectually he had always known that is father might remarry. The importance of dynastic succession was drummed into aristocrats as soon as they were old enough to understand the concept. With Rene unable to inherit, and the likelihood he would die in Imperial service in any case it was natural that his father would seek to secure the family position. This might be done through adoption, usually of a promising member of one of the cadet branches rather than a commoner as Solae had promised to do with Damaris, or it might be done by the simple expedient of producing another child. It wasn’t so simple of course, the cost of producing a genetically modified child was enormous and there were lengthy and protracted legal implications for both the genetic donors, a point that made his father rapid remarriage all the more unusual.

The hologram projector whirred to produce a still image of Alric and an attractive younger woman, perhaps a few years older than Solae. She had raven dark hair and sharp features as she stood in an elaborate wedding dress of gossamer worm silk, clasped with a set of stunning fire sapphires. Alric himself was a taciturn looking man whose lips were pulled into the slight smile which was the most Rene had ever seen from the man. He wore a tailored uniform of an Imperial Captain, with a commodores stud on the right shoulder. The background was of the summer house on Capella, far to the north in the mountainous northern ranges. It was an idyllic place in the summer though Rene had loved it year round. Reaching into the hologram field touched the empty air at the corner of the picture and a box of text appeared below it.

Alric Perseus du Quentain, Baron of the Court, and Knight of the Companions, marries Gisella Chastain in a private ceremony. An icon appeared offering more information but Rene disregarded it, unwilling to read an article that would be more gossip than fact and doubtless mention how the noble Alric had been deprived of his original heir due to that heirs heinous murder of a handmaiden of the Empress.

“The Chastains?” Rene asked, they were an old family that had fallen out of favor during the convulsions of the last few decades before. The had enjoyed a reputation as loyal servants at the beginning of the previous regime and had been slow to abandon Phillipus Viatrente as he descended into madness and paranoia. Rene seemed to remember that they had gained considerably from the various confiscations and prosecutions of that time. It must have been rather a coup for them to land a union with the du Quentains, though it would by no means cause a scandal.

“Don’t the Chastains have connections to the Falias?” Rene asked furrowing his brow, trying to remember the tangled genealogies of the Imperial court. Like all nobles he was most familiar with his own house and their historical allies and antagonists, even genetic scholars couldn’t keep track of everything without the aid of computers. Fortunately Mia correctly interpreted this as a question for Solae and didn’t interject with whatever data she had on hand.

Rene touched another of the miniaturized holograms and it sprang into a full sized picture of Gisella cradling a newborn child. It was a stock pose that all noble mothers performed, in deliberate imitation of the Madonna of ancient legend rather than expression of actual maternal affection, something which would have been unusual in such highly designed children. Rene bought up the ledgend.

Gisella Chastain du Quentain welcomes first child, Lucrecia du Quentain.

A shiver passed through Rene, he didn’t know how to feel, certainly he had known his father would do something to ensure that the house did not pass to their distant and hated relatives but the intellectual knowledge and the actual fact were two seperate things. Could this be in some way related to the murder of Amelia and his framing for it. If so why? Certainly the marriage was a good one for the Chastains but that seemed rather a small reward for the risk of serious Imperial displeasure. Mercedez Viatrente was a good ruler in Rene’s opinion and that of his fathers, maybe a great one, but she was as hard and ruthless as a tiger shark when it came to the throne and her position upon it.

“I don’t know what it means,” Rene admitted feeling his heart thud in his chest. He wasn’t sure why he felt the way he did. It shouldn’t be dangerous to look at the files, after all, it was archival information, they weren’t actively penetrating any databases and it was hardly as though Solae could be in much more danger. Did he feel he had been replaced? His father had hardly waited to the ink was dry on his enlistment paper before he had begun the process of replacing him. Did this family have something to do with it? Or was he merely placing his anger at the situation onto a wicked stepmother.

“I don’t know,” he repeated blankly, squeezing Solae’s hand in a blind search for comfort.