"I will wait for him here," Bel'sian countered uneasily. That she hadn't bolted from Solae which was, in the diplomat's mind, the first success. Ordinary citizens of the Stellar Empire had a simplified and glorified notion of what it meant to be an ambassador. They dreamed of men and women donned in extravagant outfits, so perfectly poised, graceful, and articulate, that they instantly charmed everyone they met. The reality was that many endeavors were orchestrated in stages. It was more common than her peers would admit for there to be a fatal breach of etiquette, an approach made with ignorance of vital cultural tradition, an overabundance of pride coming across as too aggressive, or an excessively cautious introduction giving a weak first impression. These missteps were not common knowledge despite being plentiful. With someone as apprehensive as Bel'sian the goal was to ensure she didn't retreat in fear of the unknown.

"I can understand wanting to do so," the linguist said with a nod in a placating voice, "but he simply can't step away from the soldier. She's barely clinging to life and just before I left he was needed to help administer some much-needed medication to her. If you like, you can walk to your camp before us and we will pack up your things. Would that make you feel better about our intentions?" she suggested. After all the strong-willed individuals she had encountered on her journey throughout the sector, from Thorne and Ten, to Oanh Park and Min Ho Park, to Tychon and Julia, it was jarring to have someone so timid. Mentally she chastised herself for applying that label. Bel'sian had to be a quite brave and independent Kalderi to have left her home. Perhaps it was human bias to consider her trepidation in such a negative light.

"You're not going to make me do all the work, are you?" Rosaria whispered. The teenager had not taken into account that the Kalderi could have more exceptional hearing as a species. It was only after Bel'sian made a soft sound like sounded like mirth in her throat that she blushed, embarrassed she had been overheard.

"Is this your... offspring?" Bel'sian inquired, still firmly planted on her side of the building.

"No," Solae answered, careful not to be too quick or firm in her response, lest she offend her companion. "I do not have any children yet. We're not sure who her parents are, but I am happy to be responsible for her, and to help make certain she can create a future for herself. Not all humans have as strong a sense of community as the Kalderi," she tried to delicately explain. Bel'sian was confused and perplexed. The duchess wasn't sure if she aided or hindered her cause to win over the trust of the other female with her comment.

Just as the flaxen-haired aristocrat parted her lips to offer words of comfort and reassurance she heard a peculiar noise that Bel'sian had also no doubt noticed. The alien had gone rigid, glancing around, trying to determine the source of the sound and what it might to denote. Rosaria stared between the pair until she too heard a rumbling, the crack of distant trees, and the occasional clatter of rocks colliding before strangely falling silent. Of the three it was the noblewoman that first made the deduction. Part of her training as a diplomat involved courses on the various types of posts she might have, how to navigate foreign terrain, and the hazards of worlds that were unstable due to recent terraforming. "Fresh" planets were so popular that settlers would plant themselves on the surface years before they were deemed safe and the empire would have the duty to send negotiators to try to coax them to leave rather than undertake the risk of staying.

Grabbing Rosaria by the wrist Solae darted forward, pushing Bel'sian towards an opposite corner of the structure that did not have empty holes for windows or doors. The intact wall was sufficient to offer them a layer of protection if there was, in fact, earth or water rushing towards them as she predicted. Bel'sian cried out in protest at the manhandling, reflexively wanting to wrench away, but she was shoved into the niche with more strength than she could overcome. Rosaria was slightly less resistant but still tried to shake off the inexplicable steel grip indignantly.

Thick flows of mud burst around them as it veritably explored into the room, oozing through the open portals to the north, the stream several feet tall. Bel'sian gasped in shock- this was not a phenomena that the Kalderi were terribly familiar with, at least not in the area she hailed from- while Rosaria recoiled in disgust and horror. Boulders with a height greater than any of them were pressed into an adjacent ruined section of wall before the weight of the mud and debris behind it forced it through, ripping out a chunk of white rock that was lost in the dark sludge. As the mire encroached on their tiny sanctuary all pretenses of composure bled away. They moved to huddle together with Solae, who had prioritized getting the others to safety before herself, on the outer rim of this makeshift sanctum.

The derelict mansion groaned under the current of mire, sowing panic and creating a distraction, as the wave surged higher and edged inward. Solae released Rosaria as tumbling group of stones that had been swept into the torrent of muck collided with her. The initial impact itself was not deadly, but one leg became trapped underneath the invading filth, and she fell hard to the ground, her head thudding as it struck the stone. Rosaria screamed and tugged on her unconscious savior, crying for the first time she could remember, barely cognizant of the fact her mistress was alive. In that moment she was genuinely scared she'd lose the ounce of happiness she had. Paranoia gave way to despair and Bel'sian was powerless to do anything more than watch helplessly as the tragic scene unfolded. She waited no more than a minute, when she was confident the brown miasma had ebbed slightly, before she awkwardly walked forward and put a hand on the girl's shoulder.

To ears listening for the rumble of an approaching starship, the mudslide didn't immediately spark panic. It wasn't until the crack of trees and thudding of rocks joined the cacophony that Rene realized something was amiss. Cursing he ducked out of the escape pod and into the rain. The cold water soaking his torso shocked him momentarily until he remembered that he had taken off his armor but retained his helmet.

"Stars," he breathed as he watched mud and rubble sluice down the hillside in a torrent, carrying trees and bushes along with it, bursting around rock outcroppings to ancient and sturdy to move like an incoming tide. Brownish spray raised from the muck like fog and the very hillside seemed to slump.

"Solae!" Rene shouted at the same instant that Bouradine shouted Bel'sian's name. The two criers differed in timbre but were filled with the same cocktail of panic and dread. Rene reacted faster than Bouradine also, breaking into a run towards the path Solae had taken to retrieve the Kalderi, his turn of speed carrying him the hundred or so meters in less than twenty seconds. He skidded to a halt before the rubble the slide had bought down however, hands balling into fists as icy dread tore through his guts.

"Solae!" he shouted again when a voice sounded in his ear.

"Mistress Solae has been injured," Mia reported. For once the computer had none of the playful seduction it normally effected, a fact which chilled Rene more than he could have imagined a few seconds ago. The slide was moving sluggishly now, the potential energy that geolgy had given it thousands of years ago spent in its moment of cataclysmic fury.

"Injured, she is alive then?" Rene demanded, belatedly remembering the communications devices Solae had improvised. Rather than waiting for a reply he immediately cut into the commo circuit.

"Rosaria, Rosaria report," he demanded. Turning to look back in the direction of the Bonaventure. It was impossible to see anything through the rain so he flicked a switch on the side of his helmet and bought up a thermal view. Sure enough the six pencils of red heat which marked the Bonaventure's plasma jets could be seen edging their way across the open land between the foot of the forested ridge and the campsite.

"Mia direct Yarue to land between the campsite and the mudslide, close to my location as possible," he instructed. That lowered the odds for Savachev but soldiers did that for their political superiors all the time. He needed the ship close by if he were going to have any chance of helping Solae.

"Rene?" Rosaria's voice was tight with panic, edged with hysteria even across the distorted communications channel.

"Rosaria what happened," he demanded. It felt as though his heart was about to claw itself out of his chest so hard was it pounding. If he had still been wearing his armor, the stress readouts would have been rising towards panic, a response that the prospect of death in combat had never evinced from him.

"She saved me..." Rosaria mumbled, "she threw herself between us and the mud..." Rene resisted the urge to shout at the girl to pay attention. Even a veteran might be permitted a moment under these circumstances, and snaping her head off wasn't going to make the task of getting information any easier.

"Bel'sian!" Boradine shrieked, clutching at his head as he finally caught up to Rene. The merchant's eyes were wide and frantic and he seemed to be about to stride into the mud when Rene thrust out a hand, blocking his passage. Bouradine was older than Rene, more heavily built, but he lacked years of brutal training and genetic enhancement and the simple guesture stopped him dead.

"Bel'sian!" he roared again, tears starting from his eyes, and his face falling in an agonized mask that Rene himself must have worn a few moments before Mia reported that Solae was injured. Injured, but not dead.

"She is with us," Rosaria replied over the communicator, though Rene struggled to hear her over the shouts of the merchant.

"She is alive," Rene told Bouradine, only to be rewareded with a gabble of half formed sentence fragments which all added up to 'is she ok'. Rene held up a hand for Bouradine to be silent but the hysterical merchant was unable to restrain himself.

"Bouradine, shut up," Rene ordered without noticeable effect. Dasin looped out of the rain, scales glistening. The Syshin looked from Rene to Bouradine in askance.

"Dasin, take master Bouradine and get some emergency flares, mark a landing site for Yarue, Solae, Rosaria and Bel'sian are alive, I'm getting the details now," he ordered. The Syshin didn't hesitate, he grabbed the struggling merchant and hauled him back down the path, Bouradine resisted for several seconds before the notion that Bel'sian was alive and there was some concrete plan to rescue her seemed to catch hold and he turned and raced back the way he had come.

"Say again Rosaria," Rene said, able to turn his attention back to the conversation that had been going on while he dealt with Bouradine.

"We are trapped in an old mansion... stars... stars I think we are buried alive," she whined beginning to hyperventilate.

"Its ok Rosaria, I'll get you out, are Solae and Bel'sian alright?" he demanded, despite his words his tone made it clear that his concern for the Kalderi was a distant second to that of his golden haired paramour. Fortunately Rosaria was in too much of a state to notice.

"Get us out... right... how are you going to do that?" she asked, which, now that she mentioned it was a dammed good question. The rumble of the Bonaventure was growing louder, Rene looked back over his shoulder and saw not only the thrusters, still picked out in infrared, but also four emergency flares burning behind him.

"Mia, pinpoint the location of Solae's transmitter and display it on my helmet, create a wireframe of the hillside," he instructed. Instantly a red dot appeared below the wireframed hill, nearly ten meters beneath the surface a red dot blinked. Surprisingly glowing projections seemed to indicate a room of some kind and all three women. Obviously Mia's link was able to give her more useful information than Rene could have hoped. Ten meters meant millions of tons of dirt and rock, more than he could hope to move with what he had available on the Bonaventure. A half dozen plans entered his mind and were immediately rejected as unworkable. What was it his father had said, the solution to every problem is inherent in the problem itself? Well the problem was that the love of his life was buried underneath tons of mud and water. Water...

"Ok, I have a plan, Rosaria, carefully, and I do mean carefully do what you can to dig Solae free, I need the three of you to huddle as tightly as you can in that corner you are in, I'll keep you updated," he advised. The roar of the Bonaventure's landing thruster ceased, having built to a roar which Rene's helmet had blocked out for him. Turning around he saw the ship settle unsteadily onto the ground. Bouradine and Dasin were already headed towards him, both looking worried and sick. He waved them back towards the ship.

"Bouradine, get Savachev aboard and into the medical computer, Dasin, help me get the fuel hoses unhooked."

In the short amount of time that Rene had redirected Rosaria's attention in conversation, she was so incredibly frazzled that she had all but forgotten about Bel'sian, and had noticed nothing more than the Kalderi was not injured. As she moved forward to try to attend to Solae as she had been instructed to do, she was surprised and startled as the taller female approached and crouched next to the unconscious woman. A few minutes ago the star-crossed lover had been to terrified to do anything more than than panic. Something inside Bel'sian had clicked, however, though she was not sure what. It could have been the subconscious recognition she was the responsible adult that should be contributing to their escape, the courage she had deep inside her that was so unusual for her race, the outpouring of empathy for someone who had let themselves be harmed to save her, or self-preservation instinct that urged her to act rather than react. Regardless of what was the specific catalyst, she was significantly more calm and composed, focusing on what problems could be solved than those that could not.

"I will help," she said firmly.

Rosaria was in no position to reject her offer. The teenager was stronger than some others her age, but Thorne had not exactly been grooming her for physical labor of this variety, and they would need both strategy and brute force to pull the duchess free of the muck. There was also a comfort in knowing she was not alone in her endeavor. Bel'sian was a stranger, and of a foreign species, yet a sense of camaraderie as they united against the natural disaster was universal. Anecdotally predator and prey would work together at times of peril to increase their chances of success. That two bipedal humanoids could find common ground when buried under an ocean of sludge was a rather predictable outcome.

"He said we need to carefully dig her free," the adolescent pointed out as she sat on her knees and tried to figure out the best way to approach her task.

"I will start on this side," Bel'sian said with a gesture. Seeing that Rosaria was overwhelmed, she continued to explain her train of thought. "We will move it slowly from her legs, and when we can see more then we will pull the rest of the way." Her Imperial common was admirable for an individual that had such minimal contact with the civilization. Bouradine had told her that she was fluent, lavishing her with praise, encouraging her to build up her vocabulary, but she was finding it difficult to communicate clearly what she wanted to convey.

As they raked back the thick earthen ooze with their fingers it became abundantly clear this would be a highly unpleasant chore. Not only was it sticking to their hands in clumps, the pair worked in nearly total darkness, the radiant light from the bits of technology they carried the only illumination. There was enough air trapped in the space with them they were not in immediate danger of suffocation but already their frayed nerves made it feel stale. That they carried was a testament to their mental fortitude and determination. The dim, confining vicinity would have made it all too easy to fall into utter despair. Quietly and diligently they scooped away the debris, making the 'wall' of mud that had fallen on Solae's legs shift precariously. When this occurred they would pause, watch for signs of trouble, and wait to make certain it was stable before cautiously continuing. The slide had come to a stop, giving them the small advantage that their sanctuary wouldn't flood with a new wave rolling down into the valley.

"Who were you talking to?" Bel'sian inquired, tossing a handful of the sludge to the side where she was making a small pile. She didn't want to draw attention to the fact that both legs were undoubtedly injured from the weight on top of them. Neither she nor Rosaria could render effective first aid and to dwell on it could be detrimental to their time constraint.

"Oh, I was talking to Rene," the girl answered, furtively trying to clean gunk off the diplomat's trousers.

"That is her... soldier? Bodyguard?" Bel'sian asked, trying to find the right words. The concept of a political attache was a bit beyond her. The Kalderi civilization had leaders, warriors, mediators, and orators that did not necessarily intersect with all the functions they performed. Bouradine had tried to briefly explain the empress, the dukes and duchesses, the lower nobility, and all the varying careers when she probed him for information on humanity. It was such chaos to her that she wasn't quite certain if it scared her or impressed her that anyone could assume so many roles, or that that independent members of a society could have such synergy without selfless devotion to community.

"Yeah, something like that," Rosaria shrugged, "but he's mostly upset because she's his fiance."

"Fi-ahhh...?" Bel'sian trailed off as she attempted to recreate the syllables and recall the order in which they were used. Somehow it felt like an even more peculiar string of sounds than the rest of humanity's common tongue, as if it didn't quite belong with the overall rhythm.

"Fiance. They are going to get married," she said as she squinted at the winged being opposite her. "I guess you probably have a different word for it. Dasin and Yarue just call them 'mates.' For us you find someone you love, you ask them if they want to be with you, and then if you want to be together forever, you have a ceremony where you make it all official and make promises to each other out loud." It sounded a little more ridiculous the more she elaborated. The Syshin had been disgusted when there was an off-hand comment that having a 'mate' in human society was not actually binding until death, and that either spouse could sever the bond, finding someone else or choosing to be alone. Seeing their visceral reaction helped her appreciate how poorly the same news might be received if she tried to present it to the Kalderi. Solae wanted to make a good impression; she wasn't about to stick her figurative foot in her mouth and ruin it by admitting how worthless a wedding was to her, or how irrelevant it could be to the average layperson. Thorne laughed at the fools swearing undying affection.

"And are Dasin and Yarue other human soldiers?" Bel'sian postulated as she cleared off one of the linguist's knees fully. Her feet would give them resistance if they tried to tug her free, but she was increasingly confident they would be able to haul the blonde to the far corner of their chamber in a few moments' time, barring another crisis.

"No, they're aliens- Syshin. You'll see. Solae isn't like other people- other humans I mean. She cares about everyone," Rosaria told her, her voice faltering as she was pulled back into the reality of how she could have been buried under several feet of rubble, crushed or suffocated in seconds, and how someone who talked directly to the empress and gained her blessing pushed her out of the way without a second thought.

"We will pull now," the Kalderi decided unilaterally. "Do like I do," she instructed as she hooked her long, slender fingers under the shoulder. Yanking on the arms would be more effort and risk further harm, whereas in the crevice between torso and limb was secure. Wiping away an errant tear, and nodding numbly, Rosaria followed suit and they very delicately dragged the aristocrat out of the mire. The grunts and groans they made as they strained to tow her the last few inches echoed in their cavern. On two sides there were stone walls and a ceiling remained partially intact overhead, the edges of which disappeared into a brown slope. Had the upper levels been destroyed all three of them would have been killed by the deceptively dangerous soil avalanche.

"Can I talk to this... Rene?" Bel'sian politely requested as she sat on the floor, sliding the noblewoman to the corner to the best of her ability.

Knitting her brows together in confusion, Rosaria hesitated, perplexed why the odd adventuring painter would need direct contact. After a pause she plucked the communicator off her shirt and handed it over as well as the matching earpiece. She wanted to have a more sophisticated transponder but she was a lanky adolescent not yet finished with puberty, so Solae was hesitant to fabric something that might need to be replaced if she hit another growth spurt. "If you want to," she consented in her typical, moody, feigning-detachment tone.

"Can you show me how to turn it on?" The connection was made silently as the moody juvenile made an appropriate activating gesture. "Ah, thank you. We have freed the Solae," Bel'sian announced with her heavy accent on particular consonants that were drawn out in her own language. "Her legs are damaged, and she hit her head when she fell, but she does not have wounds to the other parts of her body. There is... blood you call it, but there is not so much. Kalderi would put a flat... I do not know the word, under the legs. When you find us, I think she will need something flat to put under her legs or we could make it worse. We are now in the corner," she added once the trio had retreated as much was possible. Rosaria had pulled her mentor's head into her lap in a rare moment of tender vulnerability.

For a moment Rene thought Rosaria had been injured, his mind leaping to the only conclusion for which it had evidence, he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but before the words could escape logic caught up with him.

"Bel'sian, thank you, I'm going to start...."

"Is she ok?!" Bouradine demanded, probably only hearing his beloveds name. The merchant rushed towards Rene as though he could extract information by physical proximity. Rene thrust him back with an outstretched palm, probably harder than he would have if Ohna Park's words about being careful how much stress to put Solae under weren't echoing in his head.

"She seems to be alright," Rene reported in a concilatory tone and the merchant sagged with relief, as though the fact they werent buried under metric tons of rock wasn't a problem. Rene was familiar with, had been taught as a child, the principle that so long as the person in charge appears to have a plan, people will be surprisingly willing to accept that it will work. It was human psychology, to believe something because you wanted it to be true, Rene had been taught that maxim also.

"I'm going to try to get some things down to you that will help us get you out, but I need you all to get into a corner and huddle together, I know its not easy but try to stay as calm as you can to conserve air," Rene directed. Yarue and Dasin were hauling the heavy fuel hoses up the hill. The rain continued to slash down in sheets which Rene's helmet kept from actually hitting his faceshield by means of an electrostatic charge. With the visors visual correction and the sensors built into it the view was nearly as good as it would have been in clear weather.

"What do you want us to do," Yarue demanded dropping the hose to the ground at Rene's feet. Syshin didn't sweat quite like humans did, but the slight flaring of scales showed Rene that the effort had been considerable. Rene bent down and lifted the hose, muscles bunching heft the considerable weight.

"Go back to the ship, there are sections of conduit piping in the hose, they are about a meter long and..." Yarue cut him off with a dismissive guesture.

"We know what conduit piping is Rene, we have worked on spacecraft remember?" Yarue admonished him. The Syshin seemed more irritated than the assumption justified but Rene didn't have time to worry about that now.

"Right," he said in a neutral tone, juggling the dozen different tasks that needed doing in the next few minutes in his mind.

"Bring me twelve lengths of it. Dasin, Bouradine, get the secondary fuel hose into the stream and get the pumps going at max, keep tank number 2 empty and pull out the filters," he ordered.

"MOVE!" he snapped, as they hesitated for a moment and they all scattered to their tasks. Shouting was an odd relief, a rare conjunction of what he needed to do and what he wanted to do in a crisis. Bel'sian was still speaking in his communicator but he hadn't been able to give her his attention. Mia helpfully placed the conversation as a text crawl at the bottom of his visor display. Rene had a sudden image of her doing exactly the same thing for Lord Armon, helping him avoid a faux paux by concealing the fact he hadn't been listening.

"Alright that will have to do," Rene responded, checking the wireframe position indicator which now showed the trio huddled in a corner of the building.

"Able Spacer Savachev has been stabilized in the medical computer," Mia reported. Rene, who had completely forgotten the wounded woman in his concern over Solae nodded.

"Keep her sedated until directed otherwise," he decided hastily. Given the extent of the burns and the sepsis in her blood, it was unlikely that the spacer would be in any condition to be a problem any time soon, but the Marines believed that life was dangerous enough without taking unnecessary chances. Yarue was returning with Dasin, each carrying a pair meter long metal tubes in their arms. Rene guestured them over but they stopped a few meters away, with set expressions.

"Hurry up," he commanded but the Syshin did not move. Rene had the odd sensation he was in a dream where he couldn't quite make things happen the way they ought to.

"Explain to us your plan," Yarue stated in a hard voice. The words were a shock, more unexpected than if Yarue had started to dance.

"I don't have time too..." Rene began anger born out of his worry for Solae putting a cold edge to his voice. The part of him that would always be Renard Du Quentain reached for a horsewhip to drive servants who would not comply.

"We are you equals," Yarue went on calmly, "we cannot help you if you treat us as good for nothing more than fetch and carry."

Rene opened his mouth and then closed it again. They might be right and it was what Solae would want so he forced down his irritation and told them as quickly as he could. While he had expected them to object to the plan, to tell him he was insane and that it would never work, they instead nodded calmly.

"I will fetch plastic sheeting from the ship," Yarue announced, placing his own tubing on the ground. Dasin came forward and passed the first tube to Rene who, after consulting his visor, thrust it halfway into the ground at a point that Mia estimated was two meters to the right and ten meters above the trapped women. It sank easily into the mud and Rene took the second tube and attached it to the first, sealing the two with a quick weld from a multitool in his webbing, then he and Dasin heaved down, driving the tube further into the ground until their combined weight could move it no further. Rene picked up the heavy hose and shoved the end into the tubing.

"Mia, full draw on the fuel pump," he directed. The heavy duty hose began to suck and gurgle as the ship began to pump the mud and water inside the tube back down the line into the number two tank. The muck passed into the pressureize tank and was thrust out the far side by his instruction to Mia to keep the tank empty in an impressive geyser of brownish filth. Rene deactivated the pump and they attached the next pair of tubes, sinking it further into the hole now that the mud filling it had been sucked away. The advanced the tube another meter before they felt it clang on a rock. They both shoved but there was now give in the soil. Rene was soaked in sweat by now, grateful for the helmet that kept it out of his eyes.

"Bel'sian," he called over the communicator, "you might hear a bang, its nothing to worry about," he told them and then unslung his plasma rifle. He pointed the weapon down the tube, waited for his sight to predict his aiming point and then pulled the trigger. A bolt of eye burning red light slashed from the end of the rifle, down the tube and impacted with the rock. There was an audible crack and then a jet of steam that leaped from the tube, scalding Rene's hands. He cursed and pulled the weapon back, but it was a cheap price to pay when they were able to shove the pipe another meter into the earth. Dasin had by now arrived with plastic sheeting, and even better, a section of pipe that had been cut out to create hand holds so they could shove more efficiently. He lay the sheeting down to give them better purchase than the mud they were now completely coated in. By adding pipes and alternating flows of water and suction, they sank their improvised derrick downwards. Rene prayed each second that the air would hold out and that the mudslide wouldn't shift again. Fortunately the rain appeared to be slacking which he hoped was a sign there wouldn't be a second slide. He checked in with Rosaria and Bel'sian frequently, though he never talked for long, not wanting to use up any precious air. As feverishly as they worked nearly a half hour had passed when the felt the clang of the metal pipe hitting the ceiling of the structure.

"I hear it!" Rosaria called excitedly over the communicator, "What do we do now?"

"I need you to huddle in that corner, I'm going to breach the roof but there is no way of doing it without at least some debris," he cautioned.

During the half hour window the women had in the darkness, buried under mounds of sediment and stone walls that still stood strong, they had little they were able to do. While they waited they separately struggled with the isolation and the impact the environment was having on their emotions. They knew help was coming but that did not make it any easier to tolerate where they were forced to stay with only their hope as comfort. For the Kalderi this was the thing of nightmares. Their culture prized their wings and the freedom it imparted, their architecture always prioritizing wide, open spaces, to such a degree that the concept of the door as humans used them was offensive. By contrast the teenager was drawn into the nightmares of her upbringing, of being caged by an overbearing, morally bankrupt, and sociopathic woman that wanted her to one day be her lover and her successor. It didn't matter that she was not gay. No one had even asked her what her favorite color was, much less her sexual orientation.

"We should turn her on her back," Bel'sian said softly, as if she was afraid that speaking any louder might be ominous.

Because the duchess had been trying to push her companions away from the mudslide that toppled through the open entryways into the building and had destroyed crumbling sections of the structure, she had been turned the corner of the room when she fell. Typically a person would try to brace themselves from impact when they pitched forward. Unfortunately, she was so distracted by her cause, and was overtaken so quickly, that not even her enhanced reflexes could compensate. Solae had pitched forward when a heavy weight struck her backside all at once, and it was simply impossible to prevent it resulting in injury. It almost would have been better if she had gone in the opposite direction.

Rosaria nodded in agreement, deferring to Bel'sian because of her age and confidence. They remained strangers to one another, but the crisis had forged a bond due to their common goal of survival.

With painstaking care and delicacy they rotated the diplomat from her stomach to her back, with Bel'sian keeping her legs stable while Rosaria held onto her shoulders, a part of her mistress that was thankfully undamaged. Visibility in their cocoon of muck and rubble stayed poor and made them exceedingly cautious. Perhaps they could not apply first aid in a meaningful manner, but they could try to make the best of a poor situation, and make the unconscious soul more comfortable. Solae didn't need to be awake to benefit. They could provide care so that her breathing was clearer, her limbs were not bent at odd angles that would cause muscle pain, and relieve any other obvious pressure from an overtaxed body.

Her petite nose, the shape and size of which women went under the scalpel to recreate, was crooked, bruised, and swollen, half-congealed blood creeping out of one nostril more than the other. A huge contusion was on one side of her forehead where a notable lump was forming. She was concussed but without any deep laceration that would require stitches or be a concern for blood loss. Seeing such a lovely face disfigured by her ailments was so jarring that it made Rosaria start to quietly cry again. Though it was hidden from view, the crushing force that had descended on her calves and feet had fractured and shattered several bones. The skin was mottled with dark purples and reds where it remained hidden under her trousers. Her lower extremities had been compacted against the floor in such a way that it had been impossible for any bone to just in any direction. Technology was sophisticated enough to allow reconstruction- once she was rescued from the cave.

"She will not die," Bel'sian said encouragingly. And it was true. They were in much more danger of suffocating, starving, or dehydrating than having the linguist succumb to her injuries, none of which were fatal on their own. Had the aristocrat not been concussed or thrown into shock by the agony she must have felt when the wave of terrain collided with her, she would have been sitting with them, undoubtedly giving them reassurance herself.

"I know," Rosaria said, drying her tears with the back of her hand, assuming her bravado as one would don a suit of armor. She didn't want to appear weak or stupid. Bel'sian had not accused her of either; it was Thorne's indoctrination that made her struggle to feel it was acceptable to express herself and that not everything she had been taught was a vulnerability was necessarily disadvantageous. There were distant, muffled sounds from beyond of the Bonaventure as the hose began to suck up huge swathes of mud before ejecting it elsewhere.

"How did you meet?" she inquired, hoping that the conversation might be a welcome distraction for both the Kalderi and teenager.

"When I was a baby I sold to a woman who was trying to train me to be like her, to take over her business," Rosaria shrugged as if it were an unremarkable story. Bel'sian politely did not interrupt as her eyes widened at the notion of an infant being sold. "Rene found me at the woman's house and freed me. I didn't really have anywhere to go, so I decided to join him and Solae when they left that planet. I knew I definitely didn't want to stay on Zatis."

"I see. Is it... normal for humans to buy each other? Bouradine did not tell me of this," Bel'sian asked with furrowed brows. Her love for the man had not been mitigated; she was merely curious about what he hadn't told her in order to shield her from the ugly sides of his civilization. If she searched her heard she would have to admit that she had been similarly hesitant to expose the flaws and schisms of her own people.

"Yes. No. Well... it depends. We're not supposed to, but there are places where the rules are broken. Solae and Rene are very against it, though. Solae also wants to help liberate- that means give freedom to- the Syshin, who aren't treated very well by a lot of humans. She wouldn't tell you herself, but before Dasin and Yarue no one has ever trusted a Syshin to give them such a nice position, or pay them, or teach them things. I think I like her because she doesn't care what others think and just does what she thinks is right, no matter how many people it upsets, or how hard it is. Mistress Thorne, the woman that owned me, and her friends weren't like that at all." Rosaria was sharing more than she might have otherwise because of the unusual circumstances. The alien next to her was easy to talk to, did not seem to be judgmental, and had nothing better to do than listen to her whining. She would have felt exponentially more awkward making the same sort of confessions to the former marquise's face.

Just as Bel'sian started to contemplate another topic to broach they heard the clang of something striking the roof of their sanctuary. Excited as she was to be free of the building after the last half an hour, she winced at the harsh noise and Rosaria's yelling, and found herself anxious about what the rest of this plan entailed. When word traveled through their communicators that the breach would possibly scatter debris she was even less enthused. She was thankful all the same, just with reservations, and fearful that in the last moment this plot would be quashed by an unknown anomaly.

The much more excited adolescent moved closer to her older counterpart and the two of them bent over Solae to shield her from any debris that could fall from the ceiling. Neither of them wanted to get hurt, but it was prudent to protect the one of them that was worse off, and for whom a stray clump of petrified wood caught in the blast could spell disaster. "We're braced and ready," Rosaria exclaimed to give him the sign he should fire his charge.

Rene hefted the small breeching charge in his hand, feeling its weight and wondering for the hundredth time if he were doing the right thing. There was always the chance something would go wrong with the blast and if he mangled the end of his improvised derrick there was no chance of saving Solae and the others. He had debated using the plasma rifle for this, but he might need several shots to completely breach, which would mean pumping the excess energy into the chamber where the women sheltered, killing them as certainly as asphyxiation shortly would. The thought of Solae gasping for breath in a lightless hole was enough to overcome his moment of paralysis and he stripped the priming cord out of the charge and dropped it down the tube.

"Fire in the hole!" he yelled and then both he and Yarue leaned their full weight onto the tubing. Rene felt the crump of detonantion through the metal pipe like an electrical shock. Muddy water blasted from the end like a gyezer, and then, to Rene's incredible relief, the pipe sank another meter into the earth.

"I see it!" Rosaria shouted, excitement and hope in her voice as the end of the pipe came into view in the near darkness below.

"Is everyone ok?" Rene demanded the strain of suppressed worry evident in his voice.

"Yes we are all right," she replied a moment later before adding, "There is alot of water and mud comming in around where the pipe came through." Rene nodded although she couldn't see the expression. The blast had cracked the ceiling enough to allow the pipe to come through, but there was no realistic way to seal it completely. It wouldn't be a real problem though, not if the moved quickly enough.

"Ready?" Dasin asked, hefting the meter long package he had prepared. Rene nodded and the Syshin stepped to the pipe and thrust the object inside. It slid down into the darkness smoothly and he quickly added a pair of canisters about the size of a pressurized can of lubricant.

"Do you see them?" Rene demanded. It was possible they would bind or hang up on burrs in the side of the tubing, in which case they would have to blast them down with water. It wasn't going to make the job any easier if they had to half flood the small refuge to get the supplies down there.

"I have them," Rosaria reported. Rene let out an audible sigh of relief. Bundled in the emergency raft were three oxygen recyclers, three chemical lights and several feet of breeching mesh. Breeching mesh was designed to bring down sections of wall to provide an ingress point for an assault team. Ordinarily it would be deployed by a lancher that would sling it into place, but Rene had instructed Yasin to remove it from his weapons kit.

"Ok Rosaria, Bel'sian, I need you to do exactly as I say..."

It was a tense twenty minutes. Even with the oxygen problem solved by the activation of the air recyclers, Rene couldn't help but worry. Even at this late stage of the plan, if the hillside shifted or settled, the resulting force might snap the pipe making rescue all but impossible. Rene had a back up plan, but it was desperate and even he was more relived than he could express when Rosaria reported they were ready. In the chamber below the orphan girl and the exiled Kalderi had followed Rene's instructions, laying the blasting mesh over the ceiling and inflating the emergency raft Ten had provided. Rene suspected he had done so after hearing of their escapades on Panapontus, but whatever the reason he once again found himself grateful to the kingpin. Perhaps, if Solae were ever to take her new position as Duchess he could lure him into her service with the promise of a full pardon for his crimes. It was a shame to waste such a shrewd individual. The raft was designed to handle storm conditions at sea, enfolding the occupants with a 360 degree bubble of reinforced plastic weave that couldn't be capsized or submerged. Even the tough weather resistant fabric wouldn't have handled rock on its own however. This problem had been solved by pumping the raft full of vacuum sealant a carbon sealant meant to repair hull breeches in starships. The carbon slurry inside was precisely calibrated to from a tetrahedral lattice, that was both light and nearly as strong as steel it also had the benefit of expanding rapidly to fill a space and so had inflated the raft with little difficulty before hardening into what, in effect, was an armored capsule.

"Ok we are inside and have sealed the entry," Bel'sian reported. Rene had been impressed with how calm the alien had been given the situation must have been even more a nightmare for her than it had been for Rosaria. She had followed his instructions without argument, haste or panic, for which Rene was very grateful. Rosaria had held it together also, an impressive testament to Alayla Thorne's conditioning, the girls natural reserves of courage or both. It was a minor miracle they had both avoided a panic which would have almost certainly been lethal. Of course, the next part wasn't exactly safe either.

"Ok," Rene replied, "you are going to hear the blast, and then mud and debris are going to bury you. It is part of the plan, just keep calm and we will do the rest. Is Solae secure?"

"Just like the last time you asked, yes," Rosaria replied, her voice betraying the edge of tension in the slightly barbed reply. Rene supposed he deserved that, objectively he was worried about all three of them, but only one of them was the woman he loved, and the woman whose safety he had been charged with protecting by the Empress herself.

"Alright, detonating..." Rene thumbed the trigger. There was a crump and another blast of air and water from the pipe. Then the hillside slumped beneath them. Rene cursed as the ground gave way beneath him, sucking him waste deep into the earth. The armor on his legs saved him from serious injury as Yarue and Dasin, who had been standing back, shouted in alarm and raced forward, sezining him by the arms. Rene cursed himself for a fool for not anticipating what would happen when the void below was collapsed.

"Are you ok?" Rosaria's worried voice came through the comms.

"Yes, yes, its fine, little miscalculation out here," Rene responded as the Syshin pulled him free. Carefully he made his way over to the pipe and was relieved to see it hadn't been torqued by the miniature collapse.

"Alright, we are going to start," Rene informed Rosaria. Yarue hauled the reaction mass hose over to the pipe and closed the connection with a wrench. Rene threw the switch and the hose pulsed to life pumping hundreds of litres a minute down into the void below. Rosaria had tied the raft to the end of the pipe with cargo ties and as the water pumped down it created a void beneath the improvised life pod. Dirt and mud fell into the void and natural buoyancy lifted the pod. At least that was the theory.

"I think its working," Rosaria said excitedly.

"The pod has ascended thirty five centimeters," Mia confirmed, apparently gleaning the information from the position of the transmittors. Rene and Yarue hauled up on the piping, lifting it upwards as water continued to pour down it at firehose pressure.

"Easy does it," Rene cautioned, "we have a long way to go yet."

Up until they had been enclosed in the sphere that offered them so much protection, Bel'sian had been coping remarkably well with the circumstances. Kalderi did not enjoy closed spaces. Their architecture reflected the inherent, arguably evolutionary preference for open areas, to the point they did not have fully solid portals in and out of building structures. For a species that was capable of flight it was a completely understandable preference. The cavern in which the trio had been trapped had started to make the alien somewhat claustrophobic, yet it was the even smaller confines of the raft, and its curved bottom that pressed the three together, that truly made panic rise in her throat. Before she had been able to close her eyes, stretch her legs, and utilize calming techniques to retain a sense of inner peace. Now that she was more cramped, it was impossible to ignore their predicament, or the fact the limbs attached to her back were unable to stretch comfortably. Never would she have guessed that been buried alive could have been preferable to anything else.

"Rene, can you put Bouradine on the communicator?" Rosaria asked in an even tone once she noticed the very obvious signs of Bel'sian beginning to lose her nerve. She didn't pretend to really know much about adult relationships, much less understand them, but she had witnessed the way that Solae and Rene interacted with each other. They seemed to know how to reassure each other better than she ever could, how to communicate better, how to relate to one another on a more intimate level. Since it was clear that Bouradine and Bel'sian were also a couple- something she was still trying to wrap her mind around- then it stood to reason that the most effective way to keep the winged woman from going postal was to have her lover talking her through this bizarre experience.

"What?" she heard the older male grunt, not unkindly, but because it was such an unexpected request and because he was busy, toiling under miserable conditions, and undoubtedly taxing his endurance with the labor necessary to enact his plan.

"I think Bel'sian really needs to talk to Bouradine," she repeated with emphasis in hopes she could diplomatically convey the mini crisis that was unfolding. There was a long pause, which she would later find out was Yarue volunteering his communicator, going to the ship to attach it to Bouradine, and returning back to his post. The delay was frustrating for all, but the strained tone in Rosaria's voice, as well as the fact she hadn't really made any other demands, ultimately made them yield.

The Syshin's stamina was not to be underestimated. Though the Stellar Empire's culture was unequivocally reprehensible subjugating them, it was cruelly accurate in its evaluation of their strengths, particularly their strength. Despite the enhancements that the nobility had, they could not measure against the physiology of the benevolent humanoids, who were mere generations from an existence where they had to rely on physical prowess to survive in a harsh world. Philosophers argued that the enslavement was partially due to the fact that humanity felt threatened by the Syshin's raw superiority in certain aspects (height, mass, musculature, and speed namely). To ensure they remained on top they had to dominate, using their technological advantage to maintain their status as the great, 'unrivaled' galactic force. Anyone who could divorce themselves from the wanton discrimination, however, could gleam their untapped potential. They were not as trained as the marines Rene could have had under his command, but in crucial moments where perseverance and literal might were imperative, they were perhaps better.

"All artists take their inspiration from the world around them, but it isn't all landscapes my love," Bouradine was telling Bel'sian over the open channel in a soothing voice. Everyone outside the veritable pit had seen he was beside himself with worry, but he managed to keep the fear out of his spoken words, focusing instead on giving his partner a focus and distraction.

"I don't know what you mean," Bel'sian replied in a more feeble tremor.

"They express themselves with color and shapes to convey a feeling," he explained. "I know right now you might feel terrible, but you can concentrate on what you are going through, the sensations, the emotions, and in a few minutes when you are free again you can put it on a blank canvas. You can make something beautiful from something that right now is awful. Artists say it heals their soul when they explore their memories with art."

"The canvases and the paints are..." Bel'sian murmured. She was softer now as the edge of hysteria left her tone, neither tranquil nor about to have an anxiety attack, somewhere in-between.

"Much more easily replaced than you, my love," Bouradine answered.

They had a light conversation back and forth, Rosaria leaning back in the bubble. She and Belsian were facing opposite directions with Solae between them, on their laps, to help keep her stable. The teenager kept her hand on the duchess's for tactile affirmation she had not grown cool to the touch and that her pulse could still be felt. Occasionally she, Rene, or Mia would provide an update on their ascent, but there was little to do but wait inside the flotation device. As immobile debris, rocks and small chunk of building, obstructed the path, the sludge had to be watered for several minutes until the pressure could build high enough to make the orb push through. More than once the three males on the hill of mud had to retreat a few steps to secure their footing, regroup, and restart their operation.

Approximately thirty-two minutes after they began they reached an impasse. A jut of thick rock that was connected to the remnants of the structure's floor prevented the pod from hitting the top of the foamy cavity. Cutting it with a tool would not help since anything sharp or hot enough to cut through the thick stone would also blast through the barrier of the escape capsule itself as well. They reversed the function of the hose and sucked the grime off the top of the container, until they could see the hull that needed to be breached, and Yarue and Dasin lowered Dasin so that he could stand on its surface. It was firmly enough wedged that it barely rocked when his feet hit the slippery outer shell. Bouradine came running with a portable stretcher from the Bonaventure since Mia had all but commanded him to keep her mistress from moving more than was absolutely necessary until she could be assessed.

"It is not rising," Yarue stated flatly. The rain had finally abated but the wind sweeping the hillside was now chilling the Syshin to his bones, he didn't complain, but his discomfort was obvious. Syshin weren't cold blooded, despite their reptilian appearance but their evolutionary environment was warmer than many of those early humans had colonized. According to Mia the raft was now only a meter beneath the increasingly unstable hillside. Rene hadn't considered the fact that floating the trio of women the way he had would create what was effectively a huge sinkhole filled with quicksand. Bouradine and Yarue had partially solved the problem by hauling sheets of structural plastic from the Bonaventure to spread the weight of the rescue team as evenly as they could across the increasingly soupy soil. Why the pod wouldn't ascend any further Rene didn't know but a meter was close enough.

"Alright, help me unhook it," he told the Syshin as he closed the feed line by throwing the knife switch. Even through his gloves his hands ached with the effort of so much manual labor. Adrenaline and other stress hormones were beginning to wind down and he suspected that he wouldn't still be standing if it weren't for his genetic enhancements.

"Mia, reverse the flow," Rene told the AI as the hose came away from the remaining section of guide pipe. The pipe had been dissasembled section by section as they drew the raft upwards and then cast aside to be swallowed up by the muddy soil. The telltale flicked from green to red, and the hose sucked and gurgled as it drew water and mud back along its length. Awkwardly Rene thrust the end against the soil and it began to slurp up mud like a child's straw. Dashin and Yarue began to shovel away mud with their own entrenching tools, though that was orders of magnitude less efficient.

"I see it!" Bouradine called as the bright yellow high visibility skin of the raft came into view. Another thirty seconds of work head cleared two square meters of the rounded top of the raft and Rosaria's excited shouts could be heard both over the comms and as a muffled report from inside.

"How are we going to get in?" the merchant demanded, trailing off as Rene pulled a powered cutting bar from his belt and sliced through the top of the raft in a long wide circle. The vacuum sealant that had protected the passengers inside the raft was tough, but it gave beneath the counter cutting diamond blades like wood beneath a jigsaw.

"Thank the stars!" Rosaria squeaked, blinking and rubbing with irriation at her eyes at grit which the cut had drifted down over the three passengers. Rene felt a surge of relief as he caught sight of Solae, her chest still rising and falling despite her obvious injuries.

"Bel'sian are you ok?" Bouradine demanded, rushing forward and crumbling the wall of mud which protected the hole. Several gallons of filthy water sloshed down into the pod and the merchant lost his footing and slipped forward. He would have tumbled head first into the raft if Dashin hadn't grabbed him by the ankle and yanked him backward, saving Rene from having to shove the merchant back out of the way.

"I am safe beloved," Bel'sian called and then the alien leaped upwards and out of the raft. It was an extremely uncomfortable action for a human to watch, like a caterpillar hauling itself out of its cocoon with all four of her limbs and legs involved. She seemed to pause halfway out and then pivot, reaching down to take the unconcious Solae's arms as Rosaria sat her mistress up. Bel'sian lifted and then Rene and Yarue got a hold of the noblewoman and hauled her out, depositing her as carefully as they could upon the plastic. Rosaria was last to come out, all but sobbing with relief as Rene and Yarue hauled her up. By now a considerable volume of muck had sloshed into the raft and it was beginning to sink once more.

"Get clear," Rene instructed them all as Yarue and Dashin lifted Solae on a make shift litter.

"I think we have all had enough mud for one day."

___________

Within ten minutes they were back aboard the Bonaventure, Bel'sian and Rosaria swathed in blankets. Rene and Dashin carried Solae to the medical computer where the injured Savachev lay connected to the machine by several tubes. A red hologram showed the spacers injuries along with the word 'critical' in red text. In the confusion of the rescue operation Rene had forgotten about the spacer and hadn't considered the fact she was still connected to the computer. A military model would have a crisis module which would allow the computer to treat multiple patients at once but the Bonaventure could only handle a single patient.

"Patients condition is critical, disconnection not advisable," the computer reported as Rene keyed the disconnection sequence. He hesitated for the barest of moments. If Solae were awake she would certainly object to risking Savachev's life for her own sake. Rene punched the sequence and began the disconnect. Solae wasn't awake, and even if she had been, it was his duty, both to her and to the Stellar Empire, to safeguard her. Savachev had taken the same oath he had when she had enlisted in the Fleet. By any definition, Solae had to take priority. With a hiss of compressed air the spacer slid out of the computer, kept unconscious by the analgesic that had been pumped into her. The suppurations on the burns was gone, covered with a spray of synthetic skin. A sheen of sweat still coated her, showing that the infection still hadn't been purged, but Rene was going to have to hope that between what the computer had already done for her and whatever antibiotics they could administer, that she could be kept alive. With Yarue's help he lifted the spacer off the cot and onto a stretcher, and then carefully laid Solae on the cot. With a hum the computer drew her inside and began its work with a series of whirs and clicks. Rene slumped back, feeling all of his remaining energy leave him. Thank the Stars. Thank the Bloody Stars.

The medical software and their corresponding instruments hummed as they worked in tandem over the unresponsive duchess. More quickly than any human could have ever operated the small laceration was analyzed and mended, a topical treatment was applied to reduce the bruising, and Solae was injected with a cocktail of drugs that would reduce swelling and help stimulate her recovery. What it was unable to synthesize, however, were the benefits of rest. Arguably Mia would have woken her mistress if she didn't have compelling historical evidence it would be better to let her 'sleep' off the worst portion of her healing process. An AI did not have the same emotional capacity as a human being. There had been experiments in creating software that would make them feel that had either ultimately failed or succeeded so well it became inherently dangerous. Scientists had quickly discovered that they were ill-prepared for a sentience that could review and react to their morality or lack thereof, especially since a machine had such vast capabilities that were not confined by fleshy mortality.

What was more worrisome than the mild concussion was the crushing damage the diplomat had sustained to her legs. In the heat of the moment she had reflexively pushed Rosaria and Bel'sian out of the way without considering the circumstances. Anyone who knew her could have complete confidence that she would have done the same even if would have left her crippled. The massive amount of weight on her lower limbs had fractured the bone in multiple places, internal bleeding, compartment syndrome, nerve destruction, and skin that was so badly wounded it was almost uniformly a dark color rather than its normal pallor. Anti-bionics were administered to stave off infection as well as anesthetics while surgery was conducted in the privacy of the pod. Technology would accelerate her return to mobility, yet this was not a top-of-the-line rejuvenation chamber. Zatis, for all his planning, had not anticipated this level of reckless selflessness. For a few days at a minimum she would be moving more slowly and awkwardly.

For their part, Dasin and Yarue had been reluctant to leave Rosaria in charge with the two strangers while Solae and Rene recuperated. Because of the importance of cooperation, consent, and compromise in their society, neither could in good conscience retire to their shared quarters unless they made a mutual agreement. Despite all the horrific treatment at the hands of Thorne they were still Syshin philosophically and culturally. Rosaria went to take a shower, disgusted at the mud, satisfied that Rene had not died from his exhaustion, and reassured that the eccentric linguist would survive without her presence. Bouradine and Bel'sian were left to watch in confusion as the duo of aliens bickered in their tongue about who should be inconvenienced to stand watch.

"Is there anything we can do?" the Kalderi ventured. What they were debating was unknown to her, but it was impossible to not notice that there was a disagreement. The slender female and her merchant partner were sitting near the two patients. They felt a sort of responsibility for the soldier since they had been the ones to first discover her. Similarly the lovers couldn't just walk away from the small entourage that had found them and prevented a mudslide from severing their relationship permanently. They owed the nobleman and noblewoman a debt of gratitude. The least they could do is wait until the larger group was all physically able to hold a conversation about what had transpired and how to approach the future.

"We must choose who stays," Yarue said curtly. He wasn't mad as his short tone might imply; he was tired and annoyed that Dasin was stubbornly refusing to be the one to go lay in their room. Each wanted to sacrifice for the other.

"Who stays?" Bel'sian queried as she shifted her weight and lightly fluttered her wings in bafflement. "Is one of you... leaving?" she asked more hesitantly, looking to Bouradine to make certain her common was correct. He nodded in approval. Hearing a tall masculine humanoid with combat armor and a thick accent have an exchange with a haltingly fluent waifish feminine humanoid in a dirty smock was a bizarre spectacle to say the least.

"One will go to sleep," Yarue answered, "the other stays to watch," he added as he gestured to Rene, Solae, and the soldier as an afterthought. He knew how to follow orders- he just was not as invested in the marine as the humans obviously were. Years of mistreatment left a scar and helpless as she was, it was hard not to see her as a representative of the violently oppressive arm of the Stellar Empire.

"We can keep watch," Bouradine volunteered amicably. "I'll wake you up if anything happens with the duchess," he promised.

Dasin and Yarue stared at him. Besides each other the best at reading their facial expressions and body language was Solae, who had both studied the Syshin and whose profession focused on being able to facilitate communication, regardless of whether it was oral, written, or otherwise. 'Large' emotions were much easier to read than the subtler nuances of doubt, apprehension, or uneasiness. Their silence was what ultimately clued in the trader that they were not terribly enthusiastic about his proposition.

"I owe her my life," Bel'sian interjected. "We promise you that we will not leave until we talk." She didn't quite know how to articulate the rest. Eloquent as she was in the Kalderi language, she knew they would not understand a grand speech given in her native tongue.

"We accept," Dasin agreed before Yarue could object. "The computer will alert us when she wakes," he said. He wasn't quite comfortable with addressing Mia as casually as the humans were- not yet. Something about the fact she was a computer that had control of the vessel and spoke so oddly made him passively uncomfortable with the artificial entity.

---

For over an hour the Bonaventure was quiet. Rosaria, after showering, had made herself scarce in her room while she tried to erase the trauma of being almost buried alive (not recognizing that by most criteria she actually had been). The male crewmen slumbered. Bouradine and Bel'sian chatted quietly, their hands intertwined as they whispered so as to not disturb anyone. Given the unpredictable weather outside they were content in the warmth and shelter of the spacecraft. During the respite Mia had guaranteed any natural disaster disturbance would trigger her emergency protocols and allow her to fly them to somewhere safe. She elected not to inform them that her auto-piloting was rudimentary and that the take off and landing would be quite rough; her code determined this was not data they needed to know.

Underneath the tinted panes of the medical capsule Solae began to stir. With the worst symptoms of her concussion alleviated she started to buoy back towards consciousness gradually. Laying on her back, no matter how high quality the cot, was not her preference, and when she started to try to twist to her side and was unable, it jerked her closer to being awake. Eyes moved underneath their lids, lashes flitting, until they ever so slowly opened. She inhaled quickly as the confines of the space started to make her panic. Her last memory had been in a pile of rubble with a wave of heavy sediment crashing down over top, drowning out light, closing her off from the world. To say that her pod was not an ideal environment for her psychologically was an understatement. "Let me out, let me out!" she hoarsely demanded as she pushed on one 'wall' with her hand. "Mia? Mia, I demand you let me out!"

Rene slept deep and dreamless with exhaustion. Even for all his genetic enhancement, all his physical and mental conditioning, the events of the day had pushed him far closer to the edge than he had ever come. Physical exhaustion was something that all marines came to terms with during the brutal six months of training they underwent upon induction, but during that time Rene had been able to keep his emotions separate, able to maintain his intellectual objectivity.That had not been the case with Solae trapped under uncountable thousands of tons of soil, a mere tremor of the earth away from a slow death by starvation or suffocation.

As he slept afternoon slipped into night and the chilling of the air squeezed the last rain clouds from the sky in a final spiteful cloud burst. The heavens cleared to reveal the bluish glow of light reflected from the gas giant, and an aurora which must always have been present but drowned out by direct sunlight, began to play across the northern horizon in flourishes of green and blue with occasional explosions of bright pink pastels.

The electrical jolt of the alert signal from his comm implant woke Rene with start, months of training sending his hand towards a weapon he wasn’t carrying before he was fully aware of the action.

“Lady Solae is awake,” Mia’s voice rushed breathily as Rene lifted himself up of the deck where he had all but collapsed. At some point someone had propped a pillow under his head and a canteen of water lay a few feet away. Pain rippled through him, deep aches in his muscles from the intense work of hauling the hoses around as improvised excavators, blistered and raw hands from pulling and shoving on the pipe casings and a network of cuts and scrapes from pieces of sharp rock. He was filthy, coated from scalp to toes in a carapace of dried mud and grit. For an absurd second he wondered if he should shower before he presented himself to the duchess and then lurched across the deck on stiff legs into the bay where the medicomp stood humming, its sound proofing drowning out whatever noise Solae was making as she slapped at the inner side of the glass. Mia was full capable of opening the unit if she thought it best, but the AI clearly didn’t feel it/she had enough information to make that decision. Rene’s glance at the read outs was incidental as he triggered the release switch. If Solae was well enough to move then she was in no real danger, at least nothing that the medicomp itself wouldn’t be able to fix over time. There was a hiss of pressurised air and the sudden sharp scent of antiseptic as the glass shield drew back freeing the duchess.

“Oh thank the Stars,” Rene all but gasped, leaning forward to kiss Solae’s forehead in a fervent prayer of relief, ignoring the chirps of disapproval as the mud and dust flaking off his body spoiled the sterile field.

"Lady Solae," Mia purred with what sounded like a bizarre mixture of seductive concern. The duchess had wondered if her former paramour, Lord Armon, had sought out an AI that could perform every function with inappropriate innuendo. If she had paused to really ponder what her sophisticated computer sounded like, she would have realized it almost sounded a lady trying to role-play a nurse, something that she couldn't deny more than a few members of the nobility would find much more appealing than she did. "The injuries to your legs could not be completely repaired while you were under anesthesia. Only restricted equipment, which is not compatible with the Bonaventure is able to safely accelerate the complete recovery of a patient. It is recommended that you continue to rest. If you would like for me to provide a sedative..."

Disregarding the implied warnings she should remain laying down, the diplomat sat up, which she passively understood was the most she could easily do. She reached forward and wrapped her arms around Rene, ignoring how incredibly filthy he was. In its own way the mud was a tactile reassurance. If her fiance had bathed she might have worried about how much time had passed, questioned if everything had been a bad dream, if he had been caught in the disaster, if he had been harmed himself, if he had helped rescue them or there had been another intervention. The crumbling soil dispelled her worries that she was trapped in a bad dream. Even in her absolute worst nightmares there was never any odor like the muskiness her beau had- though she wouldn't point it out and ruin the moment. They had bigger problems than his lack of shower.

"No sedative," Solae insisted. There was sufficient localized numbing agents in her legs that they weren't causing her any pain. Her pants had been cut away and disposed of, her battered legs cleaned, and heavily bandaged, with braces that would allow her to awkwardly walk if necessary. It was top of the line treatment for a battlefield but not nearly as efficient as a highly sought after imperial rejuvenation chamber. Doctors had created ways with synthetic materials to make braces even more custom fitted and practical so that patients, be they leaders in positions that did not allow the whisper of weakness, or grunts in an active war zone, could be active for the majority of the recuperation period.

"You both look awful," Rosaria observed dryly as she appeared from the kitchen where she had been getting a snack. Bouradine and Bel'sian had brought provisions from their camp site and had a small meal together a short while ago, not wanting to impose on their hosts, and feeling too indebted to accept any gifts of food or drink. The couple had withdrawn to another part of the vessel to afford Rene and his beloved some privacy. Rosaria- who had been alerted by Mia just as Rene had- was not nearly as reserved about inserting herself in a scene or offering her opinion.

"Rosaria..." Solae's words drifted as she spoke, still clinging to Rene as if he was her anchor to the world of the waking.

"Bel'sian and I are both uninjured, but Mia is right, you should rest," Rosaria asserted in a rare moment of wisdom. She had not been entirely divested of her selfish nature. Thinking of others did not come as naturally to her as it came to the heir of the Falia family line, but very few people in the known universe could claim that level of benevolence.

"I want to lay down in my own room," she insisted, "not in this thing. What about the soldier? Is she all right? And Yarue and Dasin?" One of the monitors displayed her blood pressure and heart rate, both of which were slowly rising as the pitch of her voice did as well. "I should check on everyone," Solae murmured more to herself than to anyone else in the room. "Everyone here is my responsibility."

Rene shook his head as much in exasperation as contradiction to Solae's wishes. There was no doubt that if she and the Stellar Empire survived this upheaval she would make a fine duchess, providing she didn't work herself into an early grave in an attempt to look after everyone else.

"It is the opinion of your Military Liaison that you should spend several more hours in the medicomp," Rene began dryly. Roasaria nodded emphatically. It was yet to become clear to Rene what the girl was making of the traumatic events of the morning, but by her repeated comments about Solae putting herself in danger to save them, it was obviously having an effect. Rosaria herself was not free of scrapes and bruises and could probably have done with some time in the medicomp herself, unfortunately the principle of triage dictated against it.

"However," he continued with a sigh, "it is the understanding of your fiancé, that such a thing will not happen." A slight smile crooked his lips as he bowed to the inevitable.

"The soldier... spacer? whatever, is still in pretty rough shape," Rosaria blurted.

"I put her back into Rene's armor after we took her out of the medicomp, you know, to keep her stable," the girl tumbled on clearly proud of herself. Rene nodded with slow approval.

"Good thinking," he told her, meaning it sincerely. It was a comfort to know that even when he had been unconscious with exhaustion someone was keeping their head. The armor supply of medications wasn't unlimited, but it was aimed towards stasis rather than healing, designed to keep a solider alive until professional medical help could arrive, it was very possible that the onboard supply had helped to keep Savachev alive after she had been withdrawn from the automated medical bay. Rosaria beamed with pride at the compliment.

"As for checking on everyone, I will have all the ships company present themselves to Her Grace," Rene joked as he gathered Solae up, the plastic gown which protected her modesty while she was in the medicomp crackling in his arms.

"After I get her to her room, and after I get Savachev back into the medicomp."

"Sir Rene," Mia cooed in a characteristically inappropriate smoldering tone. "While Duchess Falia is capable of resting in her own room, her mental faculties have been temporarily medically compromised by the medication administered to help relieve pain, reduce inflammation, accelerate the healing process, and improve circulation. I regret to inform you that Duchess Falia should wait until the dosage of such prescriptions can be safely reduced before she should make any major decisions. Legally she can not enter into contracts, verbal or written, at this time." Half of what the AI said sounded like a scripted portion of her program that was dictated by a group of consulting attorneys that had thoroughly reviewed the code. Given how widespread electronic assistants were it was not all that surprising, but the fact she sounded slightly like a worried motherly figure was odd. The attachment Mia had to her mistress was unusual to say the least.

"So... she's drugged up?" Rosaria bluntly asked for clarification. Dasin, who had received the ship-wide alert that Solae had woken up, was wandering into the room from where he had been down the hall. Yarue was nowhere to be seen. Though the two Syshin were roughly the same age, same species, and had the same experience under Thorne, they were by no means identical. While Dasin was a little groggy from being woken from his nap, he was not quite as exhausted as his companion, who was still dead asleep.

"Your assessment lacks the nuance of the situation..." Mia began.

"Yes, I'm drugged up," Solae admitted. It wasn't as if she couldn't tell. She was aware of her surroundings, yet they were surrounded in a slight haze, and the fact that her legs didn't hurt was as clear a sign as there could be that the medicomp, via Mia, had given her something to make her condition manageable. Normally she wouldn't advocate for ignorance, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know what potent cocktail was running through her system.

"Dasin can help me put the solider in the medicomp," Rosaria volunteered, earning her a curious look from the male in question.

"I thought that Rene said he would..." Dasin interjected, confused why he had been suggested without the polite gesture of asking first. He was beginning to think that all humans had a quite unattractive habit of ordering around what they perceived to be 'aliens' because of some passive superiority complex. The way he was commanded so casually left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Rene stinks. I mean I can smell him across the ship," Rosaria said, dispensing with approaching the subject diplomatically. "I can't lift the soldier myself, but Dasin is stronger than any of us except Yarue maybe. We can get her back into the medicomp while Rene takes a shower." At first blush it seemed like she was taking charge, or issuing an ultimatum, but it was really a plea for everyone to collect themselves somewhat before they began having serious conversations about what to do with the lovers, the Kalderi alliance, and subsequently Duke Tan, who was no doubt plotting their deaths from across the galaxy. Jumping from one crisis to the next without remembering for everyone to wash, rest, or eat meant that they were disorganized, unfocused, and not able to look at the bigger picture. They had to keep their heads and compose themselves if they wanted to strategize. Intuitively, Rosaria understood this, perhaps from all her years being groomed to be a criminal mastermind for once Thorne retired.

"That is a great idea," Solae sighed, finding herself unusually candid.

Dasin glanced between the humans and lifted his shoulders in what was his race's version of a shrug before ambling over to the unconscious soldier. With Rosaria's help, who had studied the armor somewhat, they began the delicate process of dismantling it to extract its patient. They had forged a sort of rapport. It was still too early to call it a friendship, but there was a sense of camaraderie, of individuals going through a crisis together. The teenager flashed him a smile when she thanked him for his assistance. She didn't say it aloud, but she was thanking him not just for their current endeavor; she would remember how he, Rene, and Yarue rescued her from the mudslide for the rest of her life. A brush of death that put things into perspective as they often did. In her defining moment, she had been shown that compassion and loyalty were not weaknesses as she had been taught, and that they could be found in living beings that did not look like her, act like her, or speak like her. She was beginning to truly trust.

"I miss trees," Solae sighed, "the trees on New Concordia. I think I dated Lord Armon because he had a beautiful garden. I was so happy to be on a world that had such a breathtaking landscape... and it mauled me. When this is all over- if it's ever all over- I'm going to see if the Falias have any homes with big gardens. I'll ask the empress for a garden with lots of trees and not so much dirt. She'll think I've lost my mind," the noblewoman laughed. "It will warm her up for when I discuss the Syshin, I suppose. Once she's sure I'm crazy, not too much will shock her."

"I suspect, that if you are alive to ask, the Empress will be happy to comply," Rene joked, though the humor had a touch of the gallows to it.

"I like the forest too, as a boy I spent alot of time... wandering I guess, but also hunting and fishing on our estate," he smiled fondly remembering days spent wandering the alpine wilderness. His family swordmaster, a grey haired old soldier named Cheralin, had accompanied him at first, teaching him they ways of the wilds. Rene's father had been distant but had obviously approved of his son's inclinations as better training for life than time immersed in video simulation games, cars, women, or the other past times of the idle rich. The landscape here was sere and uninviting to Rene's eye, and worse it lacked meaningful cover and concealment. Rene wondered what the landscape was like on Traulis Major, the current ducal seat, of course there was no reason that Solae, if she ascended to her proper station, couldn't move the court wherever she liked. That might even be an advantage as it would allow them to effectively begin the sector beauracracy anew as they purged it of Tan's loyalists.

"Lets get you to bed your grace, and we can discuss Imperial largess in more detail," he suggested. Carefully as he could he reached down and lifted Solae from the medi-comp. His tired muscles screamed but he pushed through it, Solae wasn't in condition to stand up unaided and none of the others would be as comfortable as he was man handling the duchess. He carried Solae across the room and down the short hallway to the captains cabin as Rosaria and the Syshin got Savachev onto the bed of the medical computer and initiated the auto treatment cycle.

No amount of Ten's money had been able to make the small cabin luxurious, but it was far cleaner and better stocked than it had been when Rene and Solae had taken possession of the craft. Rene lay his love down on the bed and then sniffed critically. Rosaria had a point, the combination of sweat and mud was bad enough but the byproducts of fear, fear for Solae, and adrenaline combined to give him an unpleasant reek. Excusing himself he stepped out and into the refersher station. Stripping out of his filthy garments and allowing the combination sonic and water shower to sluice him clean. His body burned and throbbed, especially his hand and arms which had been stripped raw by manhandling the casings they had used to drill. He had blisters which would be sores by the morning, but that was a cheap price to pay, doubtless he could find some salve in one of the first aid kits. Turning of the shower he dried himself and dressed in a white cotton T-shirt and a pair of dark grey fatigue pants. He unhooked his pistol from his weapons belt and inspected the weapon, wiping it clean with his soiled shirt and assuring himself that mud hadn't made its way into the barrel of the mechanism. By rote he worked the action, ejecting one of the thumbnail sized ammunition discs, then removed the magazine, reseated the round and reloaded then gun. Satisfied, he slipped the weapon into a cargo pocket. He was probably being paranoid, but he was technically on duty and though neither Bouradine or Bel'sian seemed to be a threat they were still strangers. Satisfied he tossed the remaining dirty clothes including his utility belt into the laundry bin and headed back to the cabin.

"Master Quentain," Bouradine called as he emerged from the shower, the merchant had clearly been waiting for him to do so. Bouradine looked nervous although perhaps that was his normal look rather than a reaction to the circumstances.

"It is Colonel Quentain," Rene corrected, then grinned slightly to show that it was something of a joke.

"Although I'd prefer Rene when we are in private," he continued with a slight grin. There was enough rank on what was effectively a tramp freighter without adding to the formality by demanding titles when they weren't needed.

"Col.. Rene," Bouradine continued, "Might I speak with Lady Falia? I'd like to know... well you know..."

"You want to know what she intends to do with you and Bel'sian?" Rene concluded, cutting through the fellows hesitation. Bouradine's head drooped in a nod that was at least partially resignation.

"If you take me back to Ranal Pindi, Totlya will kill me, kill me sure. I don't have a chance of winning a challenge and he will make sure I die as much because I am a human as I am a rival for Bel'sian. There are those among the Kalderi who view what we are doing as an abomination. I'm not a coward but I have to be realistic," Bouradine continued in a rush. Rene cocked his head slightly. Did Bouradine really think Rene would judge him as a coward for not wishing to engage in a fight he couldn't win? Clearly he did, and perhaps at some deep primal level Rene did make a judgment, intellectually however, he knew that Bouardine was a merchant and no warrior. There was no shame in refusing a fight one couldn't win and no cowardice either.

"For your first question, no you may not speak with Solae," he began holding up a hand to forestall an objection which was already forming on Bouradine's lips.

"Her grace needs time to recover from what she went through, time for the drugs to clear out of her system," he explained. Even if Mia hadn't made a point of mentioning it, he wouldn't have wanted her to be rushed in deciding what to do about a problem so politically complex. Bouradine's face worked in a moo of frustration.

"I will tell you that whatever Solae, that is Duchess Falia decides, it will be just," Rene said, laying a hand on Bouradine's shoulder.

"She isn't the sort to sacrifice someone on the altar of political expediency," he continued. That was certainly true, though Rene didn't see there were a lot of options other than returning Bel'sian at least to her people. They needed Kalderi support and they couldn't risk alienating a powerful potential ally.

"I..." Bouradine began looking uncertain and miserable but at least he didn't appear to be on the verge of taking precipitous action. People in emotional straits often made questionable decisions and it would have upset Rene to have to shoot Bouradine if he tried to hijack the ship as the only method to protect himself and his lover.

"Solae will see you as soon as she is able, and we will discuss our next move," Rene told him, deliberately using 'we' to imply that it was a true discussion in which Bouradine had a stake and a voice. The merchant had helped save Solae afterall, even if he had been motivated by Bel'sian's presence. Rene would do as Solae ordered of course, even if that meant shooting Bouradine and dumping his body outside, but he couldn't imagine her ever giving such an order. Rene gently turned the merchant back towards the hold. Bouradine seemed to be about to say more but thought the better of it and stepped off back towards the core of the ship. Rene watched him go for a few moments and then turned and headed back to the cabin.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he stepped through the door.

While Rene was in the shower Solae took a moment to look herself over. There were strange synthetic lattices on her legs that functionally were braces to help give her the support she needed if she had to walk since her muscles and bones were still mending. She wouldn't be doing cartwheels for a week at least, but it was a temporary solution that she could appreciate was pragmatic. As an aristocrat on New Concordia on the rare occasion a noble was hurt, such as when Lord Armon flippantly decided to duel an acquaintance for the favor of a certain lady, resulting in both parties being injured, there were facilities nearby with a robust medical facilities. A viscount could walk into the center with a broken limb and expect to be pampered, to have every available resource utilized, and to walk out later just as healthy and refreshed as if he had been in a spa. If she visited someone in the hospital they were reclined in a plush bed, in designer pajamas, with no apparatus to be found marring their pristine image.

She dragged her finger across a section of her thigh where a mottled bruise was already fading, undoubtedly because Mia had pumped her full of all sorts of medications to help expedite her healing. Marveling at the bizarre pattern that stretched from just below her hips to her toes, she let her mind drift to the rescue during which she had been unconscious. Solae didn't regret what she had done, but she did feel a strange sense of guilt. As the marquise, and now the duchess, she had a responsibility to her friends, even if she did not consider them her subordinates. For better or for worse she was their leader. Throwing herself into a situation that left her incapacitated made her feel as if she had failed them somehow.

Even worse than any perceived shortcoming with Rosaria, Dasin, Yarue, Bel'sian, and Bouardine, was that she had obviously traumatized Rene, whom she cared more about than the rest, regardless of whether or not she would say it aloud in front of them. As out of sorts as she was, she had seen the panic etched on his features when he retrieved her from the medical pod, and the relief that washed over him when he saw that she had not been horribly maimed or worse. The last thing she wanted to do was make him as terrified of losing her as she was of losing him. They were each other's emotional anchors; she had lost both her parents and had no family, and he was still a man accused of murder, who was estranged from his father. She didn't want to be another source of anguish.

Running a hand through her hair, she stared up at the ceiling and let the drugs coursing through her bloodstream artificially induce drowsiness that would not have been possible if she felt all the pain her wounds must have created. There was an almost imperceptible hum that permeated throughout the Bonaventure. In a yacht or imperial vessel there would have been more of an effort to insulate sound. Cheap freighters such as their current vehicle did not bother with the expense of making the various heating, cooling, and electrical systems run absolutely silently.

Just as she was starting to drift off to sleep she heard the murmuring of a conversation down the hall. "Mia," she called out, stifling a yawn, and pulling the sheets further up over herself. "Who is that out there? Is that Rene?" the diplomat asked, more curious than concerned.

"Yes, Duchess Solae. Sir Rene and the merchant Sir Bouradine are having a verbal exchange," Mia proclaimed in an even softer, sultrier tone than normal. If the linguist had to wager a guess, it was because she had some sort of absurd protocol dictating how loud she could broadcast a sound to a recovering patient.

"Excellent, can you transmit into the room?" Solae asked. When Mia didn't immediately comply she smiled to herself and then added, "or I can just go out there myself. You did say I could walk..." It was a bluff but a computer such as her AI could not take the risk that she was telling the truth. With seconds she heard a slightly more muted broadcast in her room of the discussion between Rene and Bouradine. It felt a little intrusive, since it was as close to eavesdropping as you could be immobile in a bed, but it wasn't as if their subject was confidential. Rene also had to know, as Solae did, that unless they requested their privacy that they were never alone in their vessel- their souvenir from New Concordia was always quietly observing.

When her lover stepped through the door she patted the mattress beside her to indicate he could take a seat or lay down himself. "You know the saying that it feels like a spaceship landed on me? I didn't expect to ever have to use the phrase so literally. It's horribly uncomfortable see my legs like this and feel them not all the way. My brain keeps trying to make sense of it and doesn't know how to make the right connections. Imagine your arms being asleep where it's tingly, and you can move it, but it's also amazing unpleasant. I'm starting to think Mia's suggestion of getting some more sleep isn't such a bad one."

Stifling a yawn she turned her head on the pillow and then tried to wiggle herself over to create more space for him if he wanted to join her. There would be no intimate encounter today, considering what they had both been through, but she was honestly just as content and enchanted with his presence. Going to sleep and waking up beside Rene was its own special kind of reward, something she wish Rosaria, Yarue, and Dasin could know some day if they found their own partners. Somehow she knew the Syshin would more easily open themselves up to the possibility of love than her young protege.

"I have an idea for the star-crossed couple," she continued, this time unable to suppress a yawn. She was slightly droopy, her mind was hazy, and she was pretty certain the pain relievers were just short of causing hallucinations because she intermittently had the peculiar sensation of flying. "Only one of them is Kalderi, the other is human," she reasoned. This clarity was not a result of her present but rather the brainchild of their travel to this planet. Solae hadn't wanted to volunteer her rough plot of how to proceed until she was absolutely certain the circumstances would fit her assumptions. "Under the treatise, and common courtesy, both cultures need to be honored, not just the Kalderi. We can broker a compromise that allows them to be together or, if that fails, I'll nicely paint them into a corner about Bel'sian's agency and ability to decide who she wants to be with. Yarue and Dasin are half a breath away from accusing them of being backwards, so if I give them an opening to accuse them of forcing one of their females against her will to a male, without her consent- well, that would offend the Kalderi enough they'd scramble to prove otherwise."

She didn't want to stoop to manipulation. Confident as she was that Dasin and Yarue would be willing accomplices, and complicit in her agenda, she didn't want to point out fallacies of another species when humanity had so many. If she had to, though, she would open the door to save two people that were obviously so madly in love they were willing to risk their lives to be together. The Kalderi couldn't both boast of being a sophisticated, more advanced race, and practically enslave one of their citizens to another. For centuries they had looked down on humans for being violent, basic, and cruel, and if they had an impartial spectator in the form of Syshin, who had been maligned and abused for equally as long, comparing them to the worst sins visited on them by humanity- they couldn't suffer that. They wouldn't suffer that. From what little she had seen, the Kalderi were curious about the Syshin, and wanted to cultivate a relationship there. It would be impossible to do so if the Kalderi did not show that they could value consent highly.

The duchess flopped an arm over and interlaced her fingers. Small abrasions from injections were on her arms, but they were otherwise unblemished, as if she hadn't been trapped under rubble for hours. "Can you stay for a bit? Tell me about your father, more than you did last time. I have to make a good impression on him next time I see him," she said with a lopsided, dreamy smile.

Rene smiled and climbed into bed beside Solae, carefully manuevring himself so he could slide his arms around her waist without pressing on her injured legs. It felt really good to have her against him, warm, vibrant and alive. While she had been buried he hadn't allowed himself, consciously, to face the fact that she might be killed but some part of him had plunged into the black abyss of what life might be like without her. To feel her against him was an affirmation that she was real and still with him.

"Make a good impression," he mused with a smile as he brushed a lock of her gold white hair with his finger tips. He supposed that if they both survived that such a meeting was at least possible. Legally he wasn't Renard du Quentain any longer, but he remained his father's son, both in his own eyes and in Alric's. Probably in the eyes of the Empress to which might or might not complicate matters. What the Empress might have to say about a Sector Duchess marrying a common soldier was beyond Rene's abillity to predict, and it was hard to tell whether his heritage would complicate or simplify the situation. Solae was technically a vassal of the Empress, but there was limited leverage a sovereign could bring against a Duchess.

"He ..." Rene hesitated, momentarily caught between the desire to present his father in a good light and an unwillingness to speak less than the whole truth to the woman he loved. As ever he chose to be honest.

"He was distant when I was a boy, never cruel or disinterested, just kind of mentally away," he told her, thinking back to excitedly reporting some minor accomplishment of education to his father. Most often Alric had nodded and offered a few pro forma words of encouragement, but not really engaged.

"He was an Admiral before I was born, though he had retired, or been retired by the time I was born, the Emperor Phillipus was always wary of effective officers of high rank," Rene explained. That had been true, Alric had been granted the rank of Imperial Adviser as much to get him away from a military command as to get him to Capella where Phillipus and his secret police could keep an eye on him.

"I always got the impression that he would rather have been out there in space than stuck on Capella. He was away alot, he spent alot of time with the Empress when she was cloistered away as a girl. I think Phillipus thought that it would keep him occupied, an important but pointless post," Rene said. He cleared his throat.

"He did his duty though, he always does that," Rene told Solae. Noble families rarely had close and loving relationships with their children, as most of the child rearing was usually done by servants.

"And he cares about family," Rene said, a slight smile tugging at his lips for the first time since he had begun speaking.

"When I was thirteen I was fencing with another nobles son, I had beaten him several times but we were the top two in the class so we kept getting matched up. One day he made some crack about my mother being a commoner, she wasn't really but she was a scientist by inclination and it wasn't an incredible match politically. I broke his nose before the tutors broke it up. They threw me out of the competition. When my father heard about it he called me into his study, told me he was proud that I had stood up for my mother, and that if I ever did something so impulsive and stupid again he would break my nose for me," Rene chuckled.

"He said that nobility isn't something that is on the outside, that it is inside of us, and that so long as you know who you are and what you stand for, what other people say really dosent matter."

Once he had crawled in beside her, she tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes, listening to the soothing vibrations his voice made as it rumbled in his chest. The comfort he provided made it easier to imagine going to sleep and waking up the next morning as if everything that transpired was nothing more than a bad dream. Prescription drugs had been a source of addiction for longer than she could remember, but now she could appreciate why it was not just the 'lower class' citizens that fell prey to their allure. Peasants had lives of hardship, economic turmoil, and physical labor, be it through their profession or because they lacked servants to perform tasks for them that the aristocrats were able to avoid, such as domestic chores. On the other hand, the nobility had intense social pressure, emotional stifling, and ruthless competition in every facet of their life that meant the duress broke more than would ever admit it. They turned to drugs more than their less financially blessed peers for escapism and as a coping strategy. Solae was not buckling under the weight of her responsibilities, yet she couldn't discount that there was an odd chemical elation, one that was carried higher with the gentle pressure of Rene's arms around her waist.

"My parents weren't sure what to do with me either," she sighed as she listened intently to his description of his father. She was under no delusion that he would want to be her father, given how distant Rene made him out to be, she hoped they would be able to have some manner of familial relationship. "They loved me in their own way, just like it sounds like yours loves you." The duchess wasn't sure if she was reassuring him or herself with her commentary, but didn't want to think about it. Her parents had been involved, albeit critical, and had given her attention than many of her peers. What she had realized during their travels, though, was it wasn't the soft, gentle, understanding, and compassionate sort of love that others experienced. What she wanted for any children she had in the future- and she would have them, with or without the Empress's blessing- was to be a parent who really dedicated themselves to being that pillar of support and availability children of scions so often needed.

Quietly she wondered what it must have been like to be an admiral during the reign of the previous emperor. No one in her family discussed him much, but what she had gleaned, the late marquis and marquise were largely left alone because they were horribly eccentric, divested from imperial politics, and lacked any ambition for achieving a greater title. Because they were not threatening, having no military background or strong attachments, they were allowed to conduct their lives as they wished so long as they didn't interfere with his plans. More than one lord and lady had taken the approach of trying to be as unnoticeable as possible.

"It sounds like he cares more about how someone conducts themselves than who or what they are," she said, trying to stifle a yawn and failing, "since it sounds like he picked your mother on criteria than 'best political match.'" Whether it was romantic love, shared values, admiration of her character, or some other set of standards she couldn't suss out. Regardless, it bode well for her introduction to him at a later date. Her lineage was almost impeccable, but there was no denying that a marine and a duchess were not ideal, and it was important to her that she had Alric's support as Rene's last immediate family member other than an infant half-sister. It was also less likely her radically progressive philosophies would rattle him as much as some of the diehard, cold, calculating nobles that treated every union as a business transaction where no one could diverge from rigid confines of behavior.

Suddenly it occurred to her how close Rene's father was to the empress. Seeing the empress over the relay had been such a shock that it hadn't occurred to her to prod about why the Du Quentain patriarch was there, and the only other person present. There had been too many other pressing matters for her to question the coincidence. Now that she heard he had been close to her since the empress was a young girl, there were subconscious thoughts clicking into place, as pieces of the puzzle gravitated towards each other in a more coherent pattern than days or weeks ago.

Unfortunately, she wasn't quite coherent enough to make all the brilliant deductions she would normally; instead, she let herself be gripped by irrational concern over her fiance's affections. Proximity to the empress made her paranoid that Alric would prefer the imperial figure to Rene's actual lover, and that preference and influence might bleed over, resulting in their return to Capella being punctuated by unfavorable comparisons. Of course, if she was thinking clearly she would know that even if the empress fancied the marine, his past, coupled with his current enlistment, would make him an ineligible partner= but Solae wasn't really thinking all that clearly. She pressed her lips together in agitation at her inner musings briefly as she wound herself up. Just as quickly as the paranoia appeared, however, it disappeared.

"It sounds like he's close to the empress," she finally mused in a somewhat sulky tone. "That has to make some people jealous," she continued as if she never had fleeting fits of envy, like any other human being. "I bet some people would like to be in his place, trusted like he is..." After drifting off, she exhaled slowly, and subconscious conclusions were revealed when a small bit of mental fog parted. "If he cares about family, hurting you would hurt him, right? Do you think someone like that did it? Made you look like a killer to drive your father and the empress apart, tarnish your name, and hurt him?" Hazy recollections were that he said something once about being in high standing with her highness, which made her grumble as she wound her fingers into his shirt. "Just remember when we get back to Capella that I believed you were innocent first," she commented to make sure she staked her claim clearly.

"I know who knows my heart," Rene told Solae, stroking her gently and leaning close to kiss the back of her head. Unique in Rene's experience, Solae had judged him not on his rank, his family or even on his alleged crimes but only for himself. He tightened his grip on her protectively. He thought about her words wondering if his framing might be nothing more than an attempt to drive a wedge between his father and the Empress. Certainly Alric had shown that his loyalty was to his sovereign rather than siding with Rene, though what such a choice might have looked like Rene couldn't be sure. Could it be some ploy by the Chastains to weld their line to the Du Quentains? That seemed an obvious choice, but it was so obvious that there was no way his father wouldn't have investigated it when the match was proposed. Rene was also mature enough to realize that he himself might want his fathers new wife to be involved in the plot. It was natural to feel animus at the one who supplanted you. He thought back to the fleeting vision of his new mother in law, hardly older than him on the PEA link. At the time she had seemed flustered, but then who wouldn't be to receive a call from the murderer whose fortune you had usurped. Then there was Duke Tan's coup, it was obvious it was part of something bigger, something beyond the eastern cross. There was no reason the Empress would go to the Winter House other than to hide, the Praetorian Guard wouldn't allow her to do so without extremely extenuating circumstances. What if it had never been about him at all, simply about Amelia? Rene struggled to recall details of her family linage. All the Empress' hand maidens were of old families, usually younger daughters who would not inherit and whose family preferred the political currency of access to the Throne. His mind turned in futile and familiar circles, lacking information to make anything more than a guess.

What if all the reasons were facets of the same plan. Rene stiffened in shock. What if rather than one motivation, it was a complex of ends all targeted towards the destruction of the Empire. Amelia killed, posioning another of the great familes against Alric, the Chastains maneuvering or being maneuvered to lay claim to the Du Quentain fortune, the Emperess being forced to question who her supporters really were.

"My father wouldn't have stood by and watched me be executed," Rene said with sudden certainty. That was what he had been missing. He sat up suddenly convinced.

"Solae, they never imagined Id keep free long enough to enlist in the marines, I probably wouldn't have managed it if I hadn't spent months in the palace with the Praetorians," there were still fuzzy spots in his head unanswered questions but at long last the riddle seemed to be gaining some sort of coherence.

"Whoever did, thought I'd be snatched up by the palace guard and executed over my fathers objections, what if, after I was dead evidence was produced that showed I was innocent, killed by an Empress every bit as vengeful and unhinged as her father. At a stroke it would have driven a wedge between the Empress and my father, probably fractured the senior fleet command as well." Pieces began to fall into place.

"All of a sudden, rebellions break out, attempts on the Empress' life, no strong leadership from the Throne, communications disrupted save for a handful of people in control of the PEA networks. I don't think what happened to me was anything personal, just one of dozens of initiatives aimed at creating enough chaos that someone could either kill the Empress and assume power, or cause so much uncertainty that they could raise their own banner as a source of stability against a weak and feckless sovereign. Stars I bet if we go back through you notes we can find other incidents designed to do exactly the same thing."

Solae was silent for a long moment as Rene bolted upright and began to string together a theory that gave reason to the inexplicable murder of his beloved. For the briefest of moments her eyes drifted shut and she had to force them back open again so as to not be a terrible fiancee ignoring very important deductions. She would have loved to say her investigative nature, dedication to imperial stability, and unwavering devotion to unraveling the mystery were the only reasons she remained awake, but she would be lying to herself. The loss of tactile reassurance, warmth, and comfort, albeit brief, were akin to being dumped with cold water. Grumbling internally she did her best to pay attention. A considerable amount of effort was put forth to not stare at his jaw, his cheekbones, the way his shirt hung off his shoulders, the way he had tousled his hair after his shower, or physically attractive attributes. She couldn't have done anything if she wanted to, not in her sorry state, but she was could admire the view while her higher functions frizzled in and out erratically.

"I don't like it," the diplomat announced as she pressed her lips together in a sign of displeasure. What he said made enough sense. There was never any doubt in his mind that he was innocent and from what information she had about the crime, they were not dealing with anyone amateur. The high-profile target, sophisticated methodology, fabricating evidence to pin the murder on someone else, all while leaving no trace who the real culprit with smacked of a professional. Although she had surmised as much when he initially told her about the killing, that didn't necessarily eliminate suspects. Capella was laden with the wealthy, titled, and privileged, all of whom had a retinue of individuals capable of committing unsavory acts (to put it mildly). Differentiating between whether it was an ex-military attache from a duke or a covert assassin marketed as a mercenary from an earl was the real challenge. Their best way to find the guilty party was uncovering what specific motivation there was to slay his ex-fiancee in the first place.

"We haven't stopped Tan, we've only slowed him down a little," she sighed as she turned her head into the pillow. "We can't possibly save the empire from a huge conspiracy." It sounded pessimistic, but Solae didn't fancy herself a hero. Perhaps when she was really, really little she had dreams of becoming the savior of the interstellar empire just as she had dreamed about being a professional dancer, discovering a long lost prince, or learning magic from a fairy. Much had changed between then and now. By the time she was an adult her ambitions were more realistic and involved maintaining her financial stability, getting married, starting a family, reviving dead languages, and being appointed as an ambassador that would forge important peace treatises of mutual cooperation.

The longer she was with him, the more convinced she was that Rene was indefatigable. When he had been accused of callously taking the life of his lover, he had found an avenue to reinvent himself, and thrived. When New Concordia was attacked by one of their own, he had managed to survive when all the marines were ambushed, and then even saved her. He was resilient in a way that was hard for her to understand. Others, like her, would roll for the punches only so long before they felt defeated and demoralized. For a moment she wondered if Alric or Rene's late mother were the source of his unwavering strength, or if it was an unexpected result of the combination thereof.

The silver-tongued linguist was more deflated. Rather than reducing the suspects, they had increased their number exponentially, for it would be exceedingly difficult to flush out insurgents in a political coup, as a common strategy was that some remained 'undercover' until a change of power had successfully occurred. Instead of taking on Duke Tan, their duty obligated them to take on Duke Tan and numerous allies, to wage war, to save and secure the Stellar Empire from those that wished to do it irreparable harm. Solae was not a soldier. In normal circumstances she would make first contact and provide advice to leaders as to the best way to compromise on cultural traditions for the sake of trade. Being flung into the line of fire was hard enough. Now that the only way to restore Rene's reputation and clear his good name was to triumph over their enemies completely felt impossible, especially since she hadn't even won over a major ally! The Kalderi were still uncertain about her and one moody teenager and two Syshin bodyguards would not save her from Tan's clutches if he got close enough.

"This isn't what I wanted," she moped quietly, her voice muffled by the synthetic fiber of the pillow she had buried her face into. It didn't seem fair, and, drugged, tired, and reeling from a traumatic event, their ominous discussion made her want to reject reality. She wanted to run away where there weren't guns pointed at her, enslaved races, and danger around every corner that could result in everyone she knew dying again.

Rene let out a breath from between pursed lips feeling somewhat deflated. Solae was right, creating a vast and unseen conspiracy didn’t make any of their immediate problems or priorities different. He climbed back into bed and resumed holding his fiancee.

“Truthfully, I’m not sure what we can do even about Duke Tan,” he admitted.

“I’m not afraid to… well that is it's my duty to fight to stop him of course, but I’m not going to risk your life in some foolish gesture,” he squeezed her gently as he spoke the words, they were the honest truth if ever he had spoken it. There might well be aristocrats whos support of Tan was half hearted, but they were unlikely to jump ship until something more substantial than a rival claimant to the Duchy appeared.

“The most we can do right now is keep you out of his hands, which is a huge blow if he is coordinating with conspirators elsewhere in the Empire. Without the PEAs his friends have to be wondering if he really went along with whatever their plan was.” Rene supposed that Tan might have sent messengers on fast ships to inform his co-conspirators of his difficulties, but maybe not, depending on how powerful and ruthless the conspiracy was it might be safer for Tan to keep them guessing. Rene wondered what he might find if he ever got into the Duke’s records. It was unlikely that he kept a list of his conspirators, but there would be enough strings there to start seriously unraveling the rest of it.

“Even if the Kalderi helped us in a military way, and from what I have seen of them any kind of large scale military commitment is unlikely, that might hurt even. The Empress is the puppet of the alien scourge who destroyed our ancestors!” Rene parroted in a tone one might hear on one of the holocasts which focused on political punditry.

“Sorry, I know you're tired,” Rene apologised, falling silent. For a time his thoughts continued to spiral in wild unproductive directions. Then slowly the stress of the previous day and the relief that Solae was all right began to steal over him like a weighted blanket.

“It will all be alright,” he reassured his lover. Intellectually he knew there were huge holes in that statement. What they could, or even should be doing was open to debate. Deep down however Rene really did believe it would be alright. Though he would never admit it, he held a naive belief that if he did his best and his cause was just that things would work out for him. That was nonsense of course, but it had the advantage that he kept looking for a chance long after others would have given up, and because he was looking for one, he generally found one eventually.