Truthfully, Solae was beginning to doubt that keeping her out of Duke Tan's hands was doing much of anything for her cause. It avoided her bringing legitimacy to his coup, it was better for her health, and it kept him from reaping the boon of her resources and linage, but it wasn't hurting him as acutely as she would have liked. Despite being a duchess, she felt largely inconsequential, as if she were an annoying bug flitting around his room that sooner or later he would have successfully swatted if he could not do so himself. Every move they made was on the defensive with the possible exception of the rescue of their two Syshin comrades. He was still inordinately wealthy, he had still claimed the Eastern Cross with little resistance, he still had allies that had been threatening enough to force the empress into retreat, and his army was well-armed, well-trained, and brutally effective. Slowing the war machine was not akin to making it stop. Eventually the conspiracy would unite under one banner and there would be a reckoning.

There was nothing they could do where they were now. They could try to save a soldier's life, they could try to survive, and forge a better alliance with the Kalderi, enough that when Duke Tan found his way to their corner of the universe he would realize that humanity was not unrivaled in strength. For all that she had seen of him, and of their own civilization, she was fairly certain that the Kalderi had technological superiority. Slow as they were to anger, and reluctant as they were to engage in violence, there was no doubt in her mind that they could defend themselves against invasion. Innovation did not move backwards. If the planet destroying ships of so long ago were not their military, nor associated with it in any way, the firepower they had would be spectacular. Solae got the impression they would only use it to defend themselves, yet there was comfort in having a place to which to retreat, a sanctuary that no ruthless despot could penetrate. It would have to be enough.

Then again, people were fickle. During her time as a diplomat the embassy, translating and interpreting various correspondence, she had learned that power changed people in unusual ways. Nobility, enlisted military members, and the disenfranchised might flock under Duke Tan's power so long as they believed his offer was the best available. Someone in the ranks would possibly get greedy and try to use the instability to take his position. Followers would grow impatient for their rewards. Revolution would give clarity that change was not always for the better. If Tan was unable to follow through on all of his promises, or wasn't what they imagined, betrayed oaths, or made any minute mistake, silent eyes and ears would question him. Every step he took would be compared to the status quo. Victories must be swift or the restless and immoral would lose interest, would withdraw their support, would yearn for the past, or jockey for leadership.

The linguist's eyes drifted closed as she mused on what could stir up more unrest in his faithful. Rene's warmth, his arm draped over her, his soft words, the scent of soap lingering on his hair coaxed her slowly into slumber. She wanted to believe it would be all right. If there was a divine being, they were more than overdue for a blessing and guidance, for answers to how to turn the tide without compromising their morals. Never had her family been religious, but she found herself passively, unintelligibly, muttering a prayer as her consciousness slipped away.

She slept soundly for a an hour, two hours, three, with no dreams. The heavy dosage of medication and the exhaustion as her body tried to heal itself as quickly as possible kept her mind from being able to do anything more than sink into a void of deep rest. Before she had drifted off she had hoped for peace before awaking to the complex, frustrating, discouraging reality of the world. Solae was not so blessed. As the effects of pharmaceuticals gradually wore off, and as her fatigue became less oppressive, her overactive imagination tugged on the recent memories of trauma that none of them had an opportunity to resolve with themselves, much less with a therapist that wasn't a machine running a software algorithm.

There was a distant whistle in the nightmare that grew in volume and more shrill in pitch. As she turned, looking for the source, blank space was rebuilt into a warped illusion of the embassy. Stunned mute, she didn't relive history, and instead took the full force of the missile that shredded the building. Concussive force blasted her backwards as it collapsed around her, rubble toppling endlessly as if a mountain of infinite rock was self-imploding of its own volition. The golden hair-blonde coughed and started to crawl in the small gaps. As she inched closer to what she thought could be an exit, or at least a place where she could stop and find shelter, it was filled with scrap metal, debris, dirt, or mangled corpses that she forced herself not to recognize. Gradually she became aware there were voices outside where she could not see joking, laughing, taunting her from beyond their graves- slavers, mercenaries, and thugs that they had encountered and in most cases thwarted during their adventures. The weight on her shoulders, back, and legs became too heavy to bear as she became buried alive, helpless to save her friends, her family, those that had been murdered or left behind.

She began to cry quietly in the middle of the horrific sequence, but as it reached a crescendo she began to scream aloud, undoubtedly scaring her fiance as she intermittently twitched and thrashed, trying to free herself of phantom boulders. Even Mia, their faithful assistant, was drowned out by the shrieking that filled the former silence of the room.

Rene jolted awake with the instinct of a hundred 'stand to' drills he had gone through in his training. Before he was concious of what he was doing he was up, snatching up the gun belt some part of his subconscious recalled he had looped over the back of one of the cabins two chairs. It wasn't until his pistol was in his hand and he was scanning for a target that the world resolved itself into something more definite than a blur of motion and shapes that seemed classified as 'safe' or 'threat' in his mind. In a rush of self knowledge he realised he was naked and holding a gun while Solae was screaming and sobbing. He cursed himself mentally. Time in the marines had made him both physically and mentally into something other than what he had once been. He wondered if he would really fit into any society if, by some chance, he survived all of this. Setting the gun down on a cabinet he climbed back into bed and gathered Solae up into his arms. She felt very frail as he held her against his chest, feeling her sobs against the beat of his heart.

"I'm here," he told her quietly, knowing better than to indulge in platitudes like 'it is ok' or 'there is nothing to worry about. The truth was that being buried alive and waking up in a medical computer were only today's portion of what had been a long and horrifying series of events, begining with the destruction of everything and everyone she knew. Little wonder she had nightmares. Rene felt the bitter sting of helplessness, aware that while he could guard her physically, there was little he could do to lift the weight of a sector that had been thrust onto her shoulders.

"I'm here," he repeated again, holding her close.

As Rene returned to the bed and wrapped his arms around her, Solae was slowly soothed out of her violet mid-nightmare thrashing, the tactile reassurance soothing away the panic induced by her horrifying dreams. The diplomat's wailing ebbed to a quieter sob and shifted into silent tears before dissipating entirely. Her night terrors' grip on her was loosened by the physical presence of his reality. Visions of being trapped under impossible mountains of rock simply could not be sustained when she became subconsciously aware she was being embraced. Corpses and taunts dissolved into nothingness. She wouldn't soon forget the troubles that plagued her, but their torment would fade long enough that she could rest or function outside of reliving them over and over. Once she was cognizant, having such an incident would likely propel her into admitting they could use a professional therapist if they intended to rejoin civilized society again and not be irreparably damaged by their trauma.

"I'm tired," she breathed groggily as she started to wake. Brushing hair out of her face, she remained where she was pressed next to him, apprehensive that if she moved even an inch away that she would return to the phantom realm of death in which she had been entrenched. "I'm tired of running from him," she explained with a sigh. There was no need to divulge a name as only man represented the threat to their life and chased them across the universe doggedly.

"Sir Rene," Mia interjected in her typical sensual tone, though there was the barest hint of disapproval as if she had witnessed Rene's race for his gun and couldn't help but make her displeasure known. "I can summon the others for an audience with the duchess when you are ready." Technically, Solae still could not make the decision herself. Standard protocol was at least twenty-four hours must pass before she could accept directives from someone who had been compromised by the use of pharmaceuticals or illicit drugs. Her mistress was coherent but she was bound by the technicalities.

"I need to talk to Bouradine and Bel'sian," the linguist groaned, not moving from her position of being curled at her lover's side. Knowing she ought to do something and convincing herself to actually lift herself from under the covers was another matter. Fortunately she had adapted to the bizarre combination of numbness and sensation in her legs and did not find it as jarring a hours before. The synthetic braces silently accommodated her as she restlessly bent them at the knee and stretched them out. "Pants are out of the question," she added with a sigh. A social faux pas was the least of her worries... assuming, of course, she found the motivation to do anything more than dose with Rene holding her.

"What you need to do," Rene replied judiciously, "is rest." The statement was probably in vain as though she might be tired it was clear from the strength of her nightmare that mere physical sleep was unlikely to help. Time would cure the wounds on her psyche if anything wood, though if Rene had access to the sort of rejuvination chamber he had used on New Concordia he would have put her in one immediately. For a moment he toyed with returning to New Concordia and doing just that, but there was no way to know if the facility would be safe, and shooting it out with with the GIDs seemed likely to be counter productive at best.

"Fine," Rene said with a sigh, perhaps conducting the kind of business she liked, diplomacy and politics, would be a better balm than anything else he could come up with at the moment.

"But not just yet," he told Mia. Crossing to the refresher he fetched bowl of warm water and a sponge and returned to Solae. Sitting her up on the edge of the bed he dipped the sponge into the water and began to bathe her, rubbing the warm water gently over her skin with as much gentle precision as he could muster. The simple act of cleaning was an incredibly intimate one, and even dhisheveld by her wounds, Solae's beauty all but took his breath away. Carefully he rubbed and scrubbed away the remnants of medical gels and the sweat of sleep, calloused fingers gently massaging tight muscles as he went, the pressure of his finger tips drawing tension from her as he worked. He moved slowly enough that the air dried her body, leaving her with that peculiarly warm sensation that a towel or sonic dry cheated a person of. He moved slowly from her face down her body, being especially gentle with her wounded legs until she had been completely cleansed.

"You will have to forgive me but marine training didn't focus much on styling hair," he told her with a smile.

"But if you direct me I believe we have a skirt and blouse that might serve as receiving clothes."

Surprisingly, Ten had not thought to pack many blouse and skirt combinations that could be utilized for 'formal attire.' There was a lovely pantsuit type ensemble, spectacular gowns, and casual wear for traveling and exploring (since it had been made clear to the criminal mastermind that they did such things), but he was not apparently a fan of the ensemble they were looking for. Solae laughed and made a joke about how he would probably lightly chastise her for failing to be fashionable. Too physically tired and mentally exhausted to worry about her clothes, she settled on a basic white and blue blouse intended for the pantsuit and one of Rene's fatigue pants, which were large enough to fit over the apparatuses on her legs. It wasn't what a duchess would typically wear, but she didn't care much about keeping pretenses. Bel'sian had already seen her buried alive and Bouradine was allegely much more worried about what her plans were than if her garments were technically appropriate under the Stellar Empire's etiquette guidelines.

"Mia, please call them in," the diplomat said as stared at her pants with amusement for about the tenth time since she unilaterally decided she would borrow his extra pair. "What do you think? Never thought I'd get into your pants this way, did you?" she said with an impish eyebrow wiggle and a laugh. Humor was one of the many way she dealt with her trauma. There was no therapist to be found and she didn't want to impose her feelings on anyway. Rather than worry her companions, she deflected and joked, as if she wasn't horribly broken inside.

"Yes, Duchess Falia. Bouradine and Bel'sian will be along in a moment," Mia purred as if too was able to be consoled by the apparent change in Solae's behavior from a sobbing, terrified mess to being reluctantly authoritative, jesting, smiling.

"Oh, my apologies Mia, but please call all of them except the soldier. If she's still resting, she ought to remain that way. I'd like Yarue, Dasin, and Rosaria here as well. It'll be tight quarters, but it should be a short enough meeting that it won't be much of an issue," she explained for the benefit of Rene rather than the AI. He looked perplexed, but if he had an objection he almost certainly knew that the computer would defer to Solae's judgment if she could find an excuse to do so, and there wasn't a threat to the noblewoman's health in having a few more people in her audience.

"I understand, Duchess Falia," Mia replied with what sounded like a touch of hesitance. It didn't matter. If she had to figure out how to walk down the hall herself, she would do it. Being a leader was not simply making decisions and dictating what others ought to do. In her mind, she needed to keep them involved, and solicit input when necessarily. The plot she had in mind for resolving matters with the Kalderi had several possible solutions and they involved more than herself and the star-crossed couple.

They had to wait a few minutes as everyone was roused from their naps, Rosaria particularly grumpy as she hadn't settled down for the night all that long ago. While the soldier was absent, her conditioned had improved in the past few hours, and Mia was all too happy to report that she was no longer deemed 'critical.' The marine wouldn't be healed for quite some time with the medical supplies they had on hand, and they had no plan exactly what they would do with her, but the good news was welcomed. With such a bleak forecast the smallest ray of sunshine was worth noting with excitement.

"I'll be brief," Solae began, an unusual way to start any sort of gathering, much less when you were a duchess. "We need to return Bouradine and Bel'sian back to her world and the Kalderi, however" she quickly added when the pair looked stricken with fear and disappointment, "we will not allow their relationship to be dissolved simply because another suitor wants to stake a claim. I propose rather than have Bouradine fight for the right to be her mate, we rely on the time-honored tradition of a proxy." Yarue knitted his brows together and the linguist took a moment to translate into his tongue since his comprehension was not perfect when it came to the the Stellar Empire's common language, especially when they delved into complex concepts.

"What if they refuse?" Bouradine quickly responded, so nervous he was practically sweating at the mention of a confrontation.

"Using proxies has more than one precedent. Think of the simple use of ambassadors," she said, gesturing to herself. "It's impractical to demand that the leader of a culture, world, even a city be all places at once, so they will appoint others to speak for them and with their authority in their absence. The logic is very similar with using a proxy. We would argue because Bouradine is not familiar with their culture and customs, he is authorizing someone better prepared to act on his behalf."

"But don't they require the actual person to do the... I don't know what it is, duel?" Rosaria countered, a little irritable, cranky, and groggy as she stifled a yawn.

"Traditionally I believe so; however, we have options there as well. We can demand a thorough explanation why it must be Bouradine. After all, he has the resources to hire people to protect Bel'sian, and it's an antiquated notion that a mate has to have battle prowess. Should that fail, we could point out that they have already accepted the human tradition of humans standing in the place of other humans for private agreements, such as when I arrived and spoke for the Stellar Empire on a whole. It's not the only approach I can think of, but I think it's our best approach," she said with a reassuring smile.

"Can a Syshin be a proxy?" Dasin asked after a moment's pause. "Humans buy Syshin all the time to make them act for them," he pointed out. Solae saw the logic, but she was pretty sure his motivations were because of how personally offended he was that a female wouldn't have the agency to be with whomever she pleased, regardless of whether certain males felt snubbed. His culture was so centered on consent that the Kalderi had unintentionally provoked them with the way they spoke as if the female's opinion was not the only deciding factor.

"I haven't had enough time to study Kalderi culture, so you'd have to ask Bel'sian, but... in our ancient past a woman could chose a champion that would defend her and fight for her since she was not supposed to do so herself. We could try to convince the other Kalderi that you are Bouradine's champion or, alternatively, that you are Bel'sian's, and represent her ability to chose for herself, though I suspect it would be a much harder sell," Solae contemplated thoughtfully, torn on what was the best way to tackle the issue. One thing was for certain- very few Kalderi would stand a chance against a Syshin. Where the Kalderi had flight and superior technology, the Syshin were towering figures, that were stronger, faster, and tougher than a human, which was what made them so appealing in underground gladiatorial rings.

Bel'sian seemed to consider it for a moment before lifting both her palms in what Rene had come to recognize as the Kalderi equivalent of a shrug. Creatures that evolved to fly were more deliberate in shoulder gestures than humans.

"I do not know Your Grace," Bel'sian admitted in her mellifluous voice.

"Such a question would need to be decided by the elders, precdent for an action is respected among my people, if you can convince them that such a precdent exits they may honor it. There are those who are fearful of your people, who will seek to prevent any accommadation," she concluded. Rene cocked an eyebrow.

"Fearful of us?" Rene asked in a quizzical tone, "the last conflict between our people didn't exactly give you much reason to fear." Rene choose not to mention that the massacre of colonists, no matter how deserving, and the subsequent collapse of human civilization had nearly destroyed the race. Bel'sian made a dismissive guesture.

"You misunderstand Colonel," she replied, "though I think you may overestimate the capabilities of the Kalderi as a... a race, it is not the technological threat your people pose that worries them." It was possible that Bel'sian was the best source of information regarding human/Kalderi relations alive, her time with and obvious affection for Bouradine gave her a grounding in things human which simply would not be available to her venerable elders. Rene could tell that Solae was paying keen attention, having sized on an invaluable conduit of understanding.

"It is not your technology that we fear, though the numbers and ruthlessness of human warriors," she paused and inclined her head towards Rene to prove that she didn't mean it as an insult, "is not insignificant and we recognize that there could be significant loss of life and theft of technology before the Kalderi as a people were able to respond." Rene considered that. It had taken the Kalderi almost a generation to bring the Jeweled Armada to bear, what that said about their internal decision making processes or governmental structure Rene was not sure. During his time on Ranal Pindi there had been almost no mention of the wider Kalderi galaxy, the focus remained almost entirely upon the community. Perhaps they were like an avalance, difficult to start into motion but inexorable after that.

"Then what?" Rene asked curious and eager to keep the girl talking.

"It is our ideas," Bouradine piped up unexpectedly. All eyes swiviled to the merchant who looked suddenly uncomfortable.

"That is why they find our art so fascinating, our ideas are... alien to them I suppose you would say. Individuality, freedom of movement, collective solidarity, these are strange ideas to them." Bouradine, just as Bel'sian, was uniquely qualified to comment, he probably had more practical insight into the race than xenothropologists who had spent their entire careers studying the Kalderi.

"Dangerous ideas," Bel'sian confirmed, though she looked excited rather than scared.

"Our society is entirely communal in mindset as well as in practice," Bel'sian continued. It was evident that this line of thought had been well developed, and Rene could easily imagine the two lovers debating the topic over long hours.

"The idea that someone would voluntarily cut themselves off from one community, and join another, as you did when you joined your Marines Colonel, is unthinkable to them, a virtual suicide" she magnified. Them, as opposed to us, Rene thought. It was possible that Toltya's motivations were not purely romantic or sexual, but part of a broader cultural impulse to control Bel'sian, who might well be the Kalderi equivalent of a radical free thinker and potential political firebrand. He choose not to comment on her analogy of his decision to join the Marines. Rene knew that Solae would never allow the Kalderi to forcibly enslave Bel'sian, regardless of political calculus, but it was clear that there was much more going on beneath the surface than the simple elopement of two lovers. The fact that there was such an interest in art though, probably suggested the existance of a faction within the Kalderi that, if not allied, was at least not hostile.

By no means had Solae expected this to be an incredibly easy task, but she would by lying if she didn't admit to herself that she wasn't incredibly frustrated, and quite discouraged, at the information that was being presented to her. She didn't have the time or luxury to host a series of debates with the Kalderi leaders thoroughly explaining the merits of allowing more individual expression within a society. Clashes of cultures took years, decades, potentially even centuries to resolve depending on how disparate they were. Ancient Earth, the birthplace of humanity, had a history steeped in conflict over cultural differences, some of which persisted today. Most planets were a melting pot of the people who had settled them and changed over time, but some had become pockets of traditions stretching back millennia, and were fiercely protective of their customs and values.

"Mia, I'd like you to start compiling data," Solae instructed, knowing that the AI was monitoring her vitals and would raise the issue of how the stress was affecting her unless she was prevented from being able such concerns. Internally the diplomat was trying to calm herself. While she knew the nightmare was nonsense, all her fears and trauma lumped together into an impossible scene, it had a lasting effect on her psychology. The diplomat struggled to focus on resolving the problems rather than feeling defeated by them and all the ones looming ominously in their future.

"Understood, Duchess Falia," Mia purred, making some of the small gathering in the room look uncomfortable as she continued. "What would you like for me to compile?" she queried in a breathless, sultry tone.

"I'd like a history of the use of proxies, starting with more modern usage, and particularly when two rivals are competing for the affections of a lady love interest." It was a rare thing in the present day, but anecdotally it still took place occasionally when certain women encouraged their suitors to engage in contests to prove their superiority. Naturally, the more proficient combatants were partial to duels and feats of physical prowess. "Work backwards from today to the most ancient records to which you have access, and once that is completed, expand the search to examples of using proxies in larger conflicts and those unrelated to courtship."

"A parse of my databases indicates matches in excess of a million such examples with those parameters," Mia responded after a brief pause, no doubt due to the search to estimate exactly what size report would be produced by the request. This answer did not surprise, Solae, and she suspected that Rene was similarly nonplussed. Billions of people, over thousands of years, was such a large source that it was inevitable that unless they slapped on the most strict of limitations they would end up with a colossal amount of matches. The Kalderi would spend hours, days, maybe even weeks depending on how thorough Mia was and how many they recruited to study the findings.

"Thank you, Mia. Give as much context as you can for the fifty most recent examples of modern rivals competing for a love interest utilizing proxies. You can be more brief for the rest, but I want it to be as exhaustive an accounting as possible before we return to the Kalderi," she decided. The more precedent she could prove for having Rene or the Syshin standing in as a proxy for Bouradine the better; besides, it was a tried and true tactic to give an overabundance of evidence to support a claim. The Kalderi, like all intelligent beings, were more likely to make concessions rather than comb through an analyze thousands upon thousands of historical accounts.

"Unfortunately, all I can do for you is ensure that Miss Bel'sian is treated fairly, and that her partnership with Bouradine is recognized and honored. I'm not here to command anyone," she said, mostly to the merchant that technically could be considered under her jurisdiction, "but I strongly recommend you stay with them for your own safety for the time being." In the back of her mind she hoped the couple could also pave the way for other unorthodox pairs, or that they could at least broker better understanding between the species, though she was not overly optimistic that either the merchant nor his female companion were either willing or able ambassadors for such noble efforts. Not everyone wanted to be such a mediator and among those that did, there were many that failed spectacular, some of which she had observed in the embassy at which she had worked what felt like so long ago.

"For our safety?" Bouradine asked, puzzled. "Does this have something to do with that soldier that crashed near our camp?"

"Maybe," she sighed, not meaning to be cryptic, but not having all the answers herself. The marine had been in critical condition when she had been pulled out of the medical pod. Solae was reluctant to wake her and try to wrestle a coherent story out of the brave woman until she was in a better place with her health. "The former Duke Tan of the Eastern Cross has declared himself emperor and launched a coup against the empress of the Stellar Empire. Because of his betrayal, I was made the Duchess of the Eastern Cross," she explained, watching as color drained from Bouradine's face in horror at the implications. "The former duke is very ambitious man who I sincerely doubt will honor the treatise between the Stellar Empire and Kalderi. He's power-hungry and ruthless and that, combined with the fact he's had several victories without any resounding defeats, will make him emboldened to take risks."

"Do you... think he will come to the Kalderi?" Bel'sian inquired anxiously, her wings fluttering behind her back nervously.

"I think it would be foolish to believe he won't try," Solae sighed, silently taking Rene's hand as there were small tremors that traveled through the fingers, indicating just how terrified she was of the horrors that unfolded on New Concordia being visited upon their peaceful neighbors. "We came for help and to warn the Kalderi. As incompatible as they might think we are, for their own protection we must persuade them to see how dangerous he is. He is a tyrant who will try to reshape everything in his image, and I can assure you, that your communities will not be preserved or spared."

A long silence hung for a few moments over that pronouncement as the two lovers considered the threat which had swept up over the sector while they had been out of contact. Bel'sian looked at Bouradine and nodded.

"If you will agree to speak for us your Grace, then we shall return with you," the merchant responded gravely.

The conference continued for a few minutes more, both Bouradine and Bel'sian seemed to accept that they would be returning to Ranal Pindi. The fact that Bel'sian wasn't objecting too strongly suggested she at least held on to hope that Solae would be able to make good on her promise not to separate them. That was good, Rene would have been willing to stun both of them and bring them back as prisoners if that was what it took to complete Solae's mission, but he was pleased it hadn't come to that. He realized that Solae had deliberately led with their problem and then moved on to Duke Tan, probably in a deliberate attempt to make their own personal problems look small and thus encourage compliance. If that was the case, then it certainly seemed to have had the desired effect.

"How did the soldier come to be here?" Bel'sian asked as the discussion turned more general. Rene, who had been pondering that himself suddenly recalled the data chip he had retrieved from the escape pod. In the confusion of the mudslide and the chaotic aftermath he had truthfully forgotten all about it.

"This probably has the answer, but I haven't had a chance to review it yet," Rene said more for Solae's benefit than the two lovers. She gave him a nod and continued to speak with Bel'sian as he crossed to the rooms small terminal and sat down, inserting the chip into the reader. A challenge appeared and Rene entered the last access code he had been given. The computer prompted him for a retinal scan and he complied. The words Lt. Colonel Renard Quentain flashed onto the screen followed by 'Access Granted'. He frowned surprised that the record had his current rank, that made the information on the chip very new, days old at best. Three options appeared. A locked dispatch addressed to Her Grace of the Eastern Cross - Solae Falia and a similar though now unlocked communication to himself. The third file was what he actually expected to find, the black box recording of an Imperial Navy Destroyer designated the Gwyidion Kay. He hesitated momentarily, unsure as to whether he should immediately pass the message on to Solae. He glanced over his shoulder and found her still speaking to Bouradine and decided to wait. Resisting the urge to open his own communication he tapped the icon for the black box. Data began to spew over the screen. Rene engaged an active sound canceltion field by flicking a switch.

"Mia this is starship vector data, can you compress it to a visual for me and run all bridge commands and communicaitons as a crawl below?" he asked. To his mild surprise the screen immediately flickered into the view from a ship dropping out of of a jump. Handsome crew men stood at their posts silently and a holodrama actress in a naval uniform stood on the bridge command lecturn, her name tape reading Ap'Gwyn. Rene shook off his momentary disorientation. He shouldn't be surprised that the AI was not only about to carry out a complex instruction but also made it as sexy as possible.

"Mia please use historical footage of Captain Ap'Gwyn, if you have access to it," he said dryly. The picture shimmered into that of a severe woman with a hawk nose and dark piercing eyes. She was in her early forties with prematurely graying temples.

"Contact!" one of the sensor operators shouted and a red pulse flickered on a command screen. He tapped a few keys. The blackbox data showed that the ships had just jumped into the Dunbarton system. The first of the twin systems which formed the chokepoint into the Eastern Cross. Even in Mia's dumbing down of the flight recorder data there was alot to keep track of.

"Thirty light craft in close to the primary," the sensor operator reported.

"Mia please display their sensor data in standard fleet format as a sidebar," Rene instructed. A plot position indicator appeared beside the action on the bridge. It showed a swarm of contacts into the system, clustered around sole habitable world in the system. Like all such worlds there was considerable orbital infrastructure, designed to support in coming shiping that was stressed by the long, low Q graident, jumps, and to provide a base for the Fleet should they need to defend the area. Judging from the Gwyidion Kay's sensors, that was just what Duke Tan's fleet of light pirate chasers was doing, attempting to block the Fleet from entering the Eastern Cross. Only that wasn't going to work. the Gwydion Kay was a modern destroyer, and according to the sensors she was in company with two other ships of similar build, the Halifax and the Song of Ostri. Rene had no formal naval training, but he had spent long nights listening to his father and his cronies talking about naval matters, thirty retrofitted freighters weren't going to be able to stop a trio of state of the art warships.

"Hail them," Ap'Gwyn was saying. Rene fast forwarded through thirty minutes of exhanges, during which Tan's forces, first plead innocent, then claimed that the destroyers had been misled by false orders, then started making threats, all the while both fleets accelerated towards each other, Tan's slowly, Ap'Gwyn hard enough that the crew had to strap in. The black box didn't contain a copy of Ap'Gwyn's orders but clearly they had been sent with the understanding that Tan's forces were hostile. At about a light second's distance, Ap'Gwyn ordered her flotilla to open fire. Mia's simulation lacked the gut rattling immediacy of heavy torpedos being launched at twenty G acceleration, or the spine shivering crack of railguns punching projectiles down range at noticeable fractions of light speed. Rene frowned as three of Tan's warships vanished from his plot, destroyed by fire from the flotilla before they were even in range.

"Incoming," a sensor operator reported, his computer generated voice lacking any emotion whatever. Rene watched as hundreds of missles ripped from the enemy fleet in a ragged volley. To maintain that fire rate they had to be mounting them externally, a dangerous practice often used by pirates and others who didn't plan on being in a situation where the enemy might strike first. Ap'Gwyn reacted in text book fashion, altering course and drawing up and away from the ecliptic of the system, assisted by the gravity of a nearby gas giant. Point defence batteries opened up, spewing tungsten pellets in glowing streams, ripping appart incoming missles with computational precision. Even with the massive barrage the destroyers, working together should be able to ...

"Contact," the sensor operator reported in the same bored mechancial voice. Rene, who had just seen another two score of icons appear at practically knife range couldn't help but imagine the mans terrified scream. Another fleet, larger than the decoys that Tan had stationed where the navy expected them, had been hiding in the upper reaches of the gas giant. Missles streaked up out of the gas at almost point blank range. Ap'Gwyn's face, recorded by the bridge cameras and thus accurate among so much of Mia's fabrication, never moved from its set expression. The woman must have zero-g lubricant for blood. It should have been over right then, the destroyers were committed and at such speed now that altering course was all but impossible but Ap'Gwyn nodded as though she were in a tactics exercise in a class room rather than fighting for her life.

"Adjust course to one zero, six three, niner zero," she ordered calmly. Rene boggled as without a moments hesitation the naval officer dove her little fleet straight into the gas giants upper atmosphere, plunging through the enemy formation like three knives, slipping under then initial ballistic courses of incoming enemy missiles. The weapons would wheel around and come back, but that would take valuable seconds. In the meantime the naval units spat death in long glowing tracers picked out by gas, their heavy weapons meant to support battleships ripping the ambushing force to glowing rags within a handful of heartbeats. The tactical read outs displayed twenty three of Tan's ships obliterated within a few seconds as the destroyer flotilla plunged past them in a perfect zero deflection attack.

Burning gas erupted into a blazing halo across the bridge view port as the velocity of the Gwydion Kay's long acceleration ignited the gas that contacted it. The effect of the dive was two fold, gravity added to the speed of the maneuver, helping to wrench the ships out of position, and the friction of the not quite void slowed them unpredictably. All the while the point defense systems hammered at incoming from two different directions. By now the guns would be white hot, starting to seize as replacement barrels were rotated into place. The Halifax vanished from the sensor read outs, Rene winced a moment before the log reported - ISN Halifax destroyed. He could easily imagine the hit blasting appart the destroyers engines and hurling it against the thicker lower atmosphere like an egg against concrete.

"Burn for extraction, and keep firing," Ap'Gwyn ordered as the two surviving ships burst from the halo of gas that formed the outer limits of the atmosphere. The sensor log reported thirty four enemy craft destroyed or crippled. A remarkable job considering the violent maneuver and the ambush. Song of Ostri reporting damage to her aft nacelles a line of text reported a moment before Ap'Gwyn's simulacrum demanded an update on the destroyer. Even though he knew it was only a simulation of events that were by now days old, Rene's guts clenched as the icon representing the Song of Ostri dropped slowly back into the cloud of oncoming ordinance. ISN Song of Ostri destroyed. The Gwydion Kay continued to accelerate away from the gas giant, by now its point defence system was begining to overheat from sustained firing, Ap'Gwyn mauvered so that her thruster plume washed directly back over the incoming projectiles, even though that wasn't the optimal course for the jump point. The dorsal and ventral PDC's blazed in short sharp bursts as the destroyer picked up speed, giving her more time to shoot down enemy incoming. Ap'Gwyn's rail guns fired back at the nearer group, ripping three more enemy ships open as easily as a child with a stick beheading a flower. Then one of the PDC's jammed. A missle struck amidships and the simulated Captain was hurled off her feet. Systems flashed red and alarms began to wail. Multiple hull breaches, system failure, fire control gone. Ap'Gwyn must have known her ship only had seconds to live as the spiteful wave of incoming missiles closed the distance.

"Abandon ship!" she called, still looking calm and unruffled. Six seconds later the display went blank with the message ISN Gwydion Kay destroyed. There was another minute of footage, appended from the life pod in which Savachev had escaped. It showed the enemy craft closing, shooting at those few life pods which had escaped in the six seconds between the Gwyidion Kay's crippling and her death. It had been pure luck that her own pod had been on the far side of the expanding ball of gas which had been the destroyer and her crew of nearly a thousand. Rene realized he was clenching his fist so hard that his nails were digging into his hand. He relaxed it only with an effort. Three thousand dead spacers. He swallowed at the lump in his throat. The waste of it all made him angry. All this so that Tan could have a slightly bigger throne. So he could feel his voice was slightly more important. Rene wanted very badly to scream, to break something and then his training kicked in and the analytical part of his mind took over. His pulse slowed gradually and he was able to think once more. End of Recording. The menu blinked back to the unopened files. He selected his own. To his surprise his father's face appeared. Alric Du Quentain looked considerably more careworn than Rene remembered. He was wearing fatigues in a grey on white Alpine Pattern. A glowing green timestamp dated the recording to a day after Solae had finally managed to use the PEA.

"Colonel," Alric began, his voice cold and without emotion.

"There has been an attempted coup on Capella," he declared without ceremony.

"The Empress is alive and safe for now but the enemy controls the orbital approaches until loyal Fleet units arrive to break the deadlock. Communications are uncertain as many of the PEA stations have been compromised. The enemy is sending out false orders to create confusion among the armed forces." Rene nodded, if the plotters couldn't stop the Empresses orders from getting through, they could at least flood the command net with false orders that would create enough confusion to delay a swift response.

"Your orders are to do what you can to keep the forces of the Traitor Alexis Tan from intervening in the wider conflict. We can prevent full scale civil war only if we can keep the enemy divided long enough to regain control. I am placing you in command of Captain Ap'Gwyn and her squadron, use them as you see fit but above all keep Duchess Falia safe. As long as Tan dosen't have her, he can't coordinate with his coconspirators." Alric's eyes flickered momentarily to something of screen and he turned and nodded decisively and said something that the microphone didn't pick up before turning back to the camera. There was a burn on the side of his fathers neck, something Rene recognized as a graze with a plasma weapon.

"I've attached what reliable intelligence I have for you to this communique," Alric continued. There was a long pause and for the first time in his life Rene thought he saw something like doubt or indecision in his fathers face.

"Renard I...," the older man began and then the moment passed.

"Good luck Colonel, Marshall Du Quentain Out." The pickup went dead. Rene sat for several seconds in silence, wondering what it was his father had hesitated over saying. Renard I love you. It might just as easily have been an instruction not to get bogged down fighting Gids but sense he might never know, Rene figured he might as well go with what he wished his father had been going to say. Almost reluctantly he dropped the cancelation field and stood up. Solae's eyes tracked over to him from her own conversation. He nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Some matters have come up we should discuss your Grace," he said as diplomatically as he could manage.

In the time that Rene spent watching the space battle unfold, Solae had been giving greater context and detail to Bouardine and Bel'sian of what she knew about the conflict. The Kalderi woman had been shocked, horrified, and distressed to hear the lengths to which an ambitious duke and his minions might go in a quest for power. The diplomat considered withholding or sanitizing the more graphic recollections, yet she knew it wouldn't her audience any favors to gloss over or prune the abhorrent facts. It was for their own good that she swallowed her trauma and clinically discussed what had occurred with a level of detachment her mother would have been proud of. Bouradine was more eager, not out of interest in the self-styled emperor himself, but because he was trying to digest the nuances of their situation. The coup affected more than his personal life. Every merchant with any connection to the Eastern Cross would be affected by the conflict. With no indication the rebellion could be squashed anytime soon, he needed to brace himself for losing his livelihood, and possibly needing to shift temporarily into a new career.

Rosaria tired of the conversation quickly and excused herself. She was, after everything, still a grumpy teen who had her sleep interrupted. Once she was certain that the decision had made to return to Ranal Pindi, she found the rest of the discussing boring, a repetition of things she already knew or was ambivalent about until she was better rested. Mia promised to provide her a precise transcript and/or recording for her review in the morning. Solae swore she heard a touch of disappointment when the girl turned the offer down emphatically.

Yarue and Dasin remained, though she honestly couldn't suss out why they were reluctant to find a reason to return to their private quarters. Undoubtedly they knew from her dress and posture that she was still injured, as did Bel'sian and Bouradine, though the Syshin had more attachment to her and would have been more bothered. Mentally she wondered if they were actually intrigued by some new facet of her story, if they were uneasy because of her injury, or if they felt some misguided guilt in what they perceived to be a failure to keep her safe. Twice now she had a brush with death- and both were because of her own weakness and foolhardy choices. It seemed that she was a greater threat to herself than anything else in the known universe. She might have joked with her bodyguards if she thought they might see the humor rather than expressing annoyance and frustration.

"So these P-E-A..." Bel'sian started, glancing to Bouradine and Solae to confirm that she had the acronym correct, "they are what this man seeks? And he can not use them without you?" The expression on her face was one of confusion, more than when they had described their other perils and problems. The duchess could empathize that the 'alphabet soup' could be confusing for a non-native speaker as she herself had struggled with slang, abbreviations, and other linguistic hurdles unique to foreign tongues. Though they had not spent terribly long on Ranal Pandi, she also suspected that their technology was very different in how it was designed and what uses it served.

"Yes, as far as we know. I'm no expert," she admitted with a soft, congenial smile, "but to the best of my knowledge, there's no way to 'hack' a PEA, though there's been no lack of trying. There are hard-wired fail-safes that I was told my embassy superiors told me would make it melt down irreparably if it was compromised in any way or too many access failures were detected. It could have been hyperbole or it might have been true. The Stellar Empire has been known to take drastic actions with expensive and crucial assets." Solae could remember how excited she had been when she was approved to use the PEA. At the time of Tan's assault, she was still doing what almost everyone considered 'grunt' work in translating correspondence and helping ensure that missives made it to the appropriate recipient. No one had truly anticipated how precious they would be the the looming coup.

"I do not understand," the Kalderi confessed, perplexed.

"Communication is vital, and a PEA is the only way for anyone to send messages from the Sector without using ships, which I am sure you can imagine take much longer. They chased us- or rather I should say they chased me- because if I was captured, they could prevent word from spreading of their treason," Solae elaborated patiently. The Syshin were all too aware of how crippling a broken line of communication could be. Their race had never advanced sufficiently with their technology to be able to correspond with communities on planets within the same sector, and with the empire being so guarded, they had never been able to rally in a meaningful way. Those oppressed on Zatis had no way of reaching out to those on New Concordia, which was one of the many reasons that Dasin and Yarue had joined the Bonaventure's crew- so they would have the means to find and speak with those they had lost.

After a short pause, Rene still engaged with the terminal at which he said, the aristocrat inquired gently, "Is it not that way with your people? You mentioned they are slow to act?"

Bel'sian made a gesture with her hands that the others in the room intuitively understood to be akin to shaking the heads for humans to indicate this was not the case. "The Kalderi have ways to communicate with each other quickly," she said, purposefully vague since she was uncertain how much could be safely divulged. "Decisions are not so swift. Everything we do is communal, but there may be disagreements on what is best for our community, and so it takes much time to reach resolution. There are times when we are split evenly between choices and we must study an issue at length before a consensus can be reached."

"It is a different kind of bureaucracy," Bouradine added with a shrug and sheepish smile. "You see a bit of it with the art," he pointed out, so as not to make it seem he had gleamed a secret flaw of the Kalderi from Bel'sian alone. "Art's beauty is subjective because not everyone has the same taste. A lady might prefer a painting in muted tones, a gentleman impressionist jewel tones, and another only collect sculptures. If you have a husband and wife come to the shop to pick a decoration for their home, they have a different perception of what is best for their communal dwelling, and it's hard for them to articulate. Nuances, shades of grey where the right and wrong is less clear, or there isn't a clear right or wrong, gets them just as tangled up as us, they just aren't as selfish as our nobles, no offense your grace."

"I agree with you," Solae smiled, this time more genuine. "I take no offense because I know I am unconventional at best. I was born a marquise, but I honestly had never held the ambition to ever set foot in the Capella courts. Hopefully, this new station will afford me an opportunity to help the Syshin free themselves from the shackles of injustice." Rene stood at that moment and walked over to them briskly, his face betraying that something was very wrong, though only his lover seemed to notice the subtle clues of his anxiety. As he referred to matters to be discussed, she sighed rather heavily.

"We will rest. Thank you, Duchess Falia," Bouradine said with an awkward bow of his head. Taking Bel'sian's arm, he exited the room, whispering in her ear, perhaps trying to shed some light on the social insinuation of such an interruption or reassuring her. After the long day they had, somehow she felt that the Kalderi was the more calm one in the relationship compared to her human paramour.

"Are you healed?" Yarue asked pointedly.

"I need more time, but I'll recover," Solae promised with a charming smile under which she hid her pain. Yarue was dissatisfied and stretched his mouth into something akin to a frown but thought better of arguing. Without another word he and Dasin exited, the latter of which cast a concerned glance before they departed.

Rene summarized for Solae what he had learned, since neither of them believed it wise for her to watch the recreation of the battle itself. Proud and dignified as she was, she was still weak and weary from her ordeals, and the trauma was so fresh that they could not jeopardize her mental health spiraling further if she bore witness to the destruction of three battle ships. By the end of his synopsis, her shoulders sagged in discouragement, and she couldn't hide the despair that was painted across her delicate features. Since they first started running from the former Duke Tan, she had pinned all her hopes on getting to a PEA so that she could call the empress and be saved. The small flicker in her chest was snuffed with cold, dark reality that there was no one else that would be coming, no reinforcements, no one capable of raining retribution on the depraved, power-hungry man that had murdered everyone she ever knew and loved.

"We should consider staying with the Kalderi if they will shelter us," she finally said. There was no interest in the empress's locked correspondence. Whatever was sealed inside did not appeal to her in the present. She was no general, there were no soldiers, they had only enough arms to defend themselves, and their ship wouldn't win in firefight with a small, two-man fighter, much less anything more grand. It was hard to see how any information or advice the empress could impart would be of benefit. She had been buried alive hours ago, not yet a full day had passed, and now she was grappling with a future that was wretchedly bleak. "They are the only place we could be safe," Solae added softly. If Capella was compromised, there wasn't a world on which she could be confident they wouldn't face co-conspirators of Tan's.