Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

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.

The Betrothed

The picture perfect descent of the princess elect from the vehicle, stepping down with the hand and support of her royal fiance, was a stark contrast to their cool conversation. Surprisingly this was also the cause of their conflict. With two people so adept at being professional and portraying a certain image, they were less aware than others where their mask ended and their personal feelings began. Tobias was not shocked at this turn of events, but he stood back stoically, displeased. He didn't know what was harder to watch: someone he adored as much as Rhiane being rejected by his cousin's pride or the two of them pretending nothing was bothering them the instant that the media began to snap photos from afar. It was just a matter of time. When the two of them were together it was as if a pin had been pulled from a grenade- and whether they would explode in passion or anger was anyone's guess.

"Your highnesses," one of the older ladies as she bowed low, almost comically so. For this small village having the crown pay a visit was unimaginable, much less somewhere as unremarkable as the school. Their awkward etiquette was a result of having little time to prepare, unfamiliarity with the crown's protocol, and frayed nerves. "I am Orchidea Vitacco, the school's principal. This is our counselor, Aida Gilardi, and our most senior member of the staff, Efrem Lepro. I believe Ms. Black is familiar with Pio Zattala; he tells me they attended together. He now teaches the seventh year students."

Pio Zattala was not nearly as handsome as the prince with his coiffed blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes. What he lacked in chiseled features or exquisite clothes, however, he made up for in a charming personality that was unlike either of Rhiane's suitors. When he smiled at her it was a wide, bright smile, and there was something in his presence that was congenial. Neither Luke nor Tobias could truly claim that they were as outgoing or friendly as this commoner man was, but he made a good impression nonetheless, and was veritably the sort of individual that could be plastered all over advertisements about the hard-working, unintimidating, and kindly masses of New Rome. This was one of the reasons that the former farmer had Sebastian request he be included as a guide for their tour. If she was going to have a difficult day, she might as well have one with a former flame, one that appreciated her and would make it more enjoyable. That her betrothed would possibly be jealous was an added bonus. He had his redheaded witch and she had her old classmate.

"We've met a couple times since then," Rhiane admitted with a smile that easily reached her eyes and was utterly sincere. "It's a small town, so it would take effort to avoid someone," she joked to lighten the mood. Assuming that no one else in their entourage would want to talk to low-born residents of her birthplace, and that the disrepair of the school building would make them even less enthused to converse with these poor educators, she took the proverbial reigns. "I hope we haven't imposed on you too terribly. I know how important classes are to your students and I hate that we might be interrupting," she added more graciously. The reporters from afar were practically swooning with her humble manners.

"We are honored," Efrem said emphatically. His eyes were slightly misty, overwhelmed by the reality of who was before him, and how far one of their own had come in the world. Seeing him so genuinely touched by their arrival made Rhiane feel a pang of guilt that she never intended to return to her home. She stood by her reasons for her decisions, but she couldn't deny the collateral damage, and that winning the right to be Luke's fiancee had been a victory for more than herself. A tiny municipality that half of the country couldn't point out on a map would be forever touched by her renown. Little girls would dream of her, idolize her, and look to her as proof they could achieve their dreams for generations.

"Everyone is very excited to see you," Pio added. The 'you' could have been plural- but he was looking directly at Rhiane when he said it. Faces had appeared in some of the windows as adolescents gawked at the caravan of cars and men in suits. For them this was a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle they would tell their own children about when they were adults. There was no questioning whether or not they were a disruption; they were.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

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.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"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.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Solae was highly displeased at this turn of events. Truly it was not Rene's fault that it started to rain or that the soldier could not be safely carried to the ship. She knew from experience how stressful it could be, however, to be solely responsible for piloting the spacecraft, and she didn't wish that level of anxious pressure on anyone. Were they under a different set of circumstances she would have made a passionate argument against forcing the responsibility on her Syshin companion. He had only just started to learn the art of navigation of control and his teachers were a relative amateur who had been at the helm less than a month and an AI was improvising an instruction program for their lessons. They were out of options and the injured woman's health was the most important factor in their decisions, but that did not mean she had to be happy with the ultimate outcome.

"Rosaria, let's get going," the duchess said to her charge as she turned towards the path leading from the makeshift campsite to the ruins. She should have known that the inquisitive youth would have questioned their quick departure. In no mood for an extended discussion on the matter, she bristled internally when she didn't hear footsteps behind her. Perhaps she had been too encouraging about letting the girl speak her mind as often as she wanted.

"But why aren't we going to stay here and wait for the Bonaventure?" she ventured, oblivious to how much her aristocratic companion did not want to debate the subject. To her it made sense to delay. Unlike the adults in the party, she didn't think quite so thoroughly or as far ahead, partially because of her age and partially because her life had been so suffocatingly contained before she was liberated from Thorne.

"You might have noticed the colonel said that strapping the armor to her with her burns wouldn't be fun. We won't be any help here," she explained as patiently as was possible, "and I don't think she wants an audience to that pain more than necessary. It would be improper and disrespectful to longer." Once she had finished chastising she glanced over her shoulder to address Rene directly. "We'll be back with Bel'sian as soon as we can to have group conversation. At the very least it will be warm and dry in the ship." The area Bouradine had set up was habitable, just less than ideal, and could not compare to the space and facilities of a freighter. More and more the diplomat was beginning to appreciate what a godsend the slaver's vessel was even if its origins were horrifying and it was several models out of date.

Rosaria jogged to keep up with Solae's brisk pace as her long strides carried her further from what would soon be a ghastly show as quickly as possible. Once she caught caught up with her pace, two of her steps to the linguist's one, she furrowed her brows in worry. "Do you think she'll be all right? The soldier that is?"

"You're really that concerned?" the former marquise asked with mild surprise. She had been a little pessimistic they had intervened too late and Rosaria wouldn't be able to empathize or sympathize with others. There was a raging debate over nature and nurture, yet there were centuries of evidence that rearing a child in a vacuum of emotions could turn them into cold-blooded monsters. Toddlers that weren't shown love could become callous, detached adolescents, and over ten was nearly a guarantee of severe psychological damage. Rosaria was flawed but was miraculous, an exceptional beacon of hope, proof that upbringing was not always a correlation to damnation. They had a long ways to go, but the progress was reassuring. "Rene wouldn't have taken off his armor and volunteered the kit if he didn't think it had a chance to work. Besides, Ten gave us enough medical supplies for a platoon of marines, and the equipment we have will make a huge difference in her condition."

The walk took them longer than she anticipated, almost twenty minutes, before they ended in the ruins. Gradually it became apparent that a significant portion of the trail they followed had once been an actual road that had become overgrown with vegetation since it had been abandoned by civilization. Scraggly shrubbery, piles of rubble, animal droppings, and other bits of wilderness stayed at their sides, never quite able to root itself where they tread, the less refined technology persistently maintaining structure underneath the dirt, grime, and leaves.

If she had to hazard a guess what they approached was once a breathtaking estate constructed of expensive stone to resemble a long-forgotten culture that was fashionably popular in the era. Exterior walls had survived; the doors and windows had not been so fortunate. The two ladies trekked up to on archway that had only rusted hinges left of its door and cautiously walked inside. Creatures must have sought shelter from the weather here intermittently, mud tracked in that outlined countless prints that were foreign to the educated aristocrat. In the corner was Bel'sian, and easel in front of her as well as a half-painted canvas. In retrospect it made sense. For a culture that so valued the artistic expressions of humanity, at least a handful of them must feel compelled to try to replicate the process, to create their own wonders.

"Miss Bel'sian?" Solae said quietly. It was better if they didn't get too much closer without making an introduction first. Failing to announce their presence and then startling her by appearing at her elbow would make a negative first impression by the most gracious of socialites. "I am Duchess Solae Falia, and this is Rosaria."

Bel'sian turned, eyes wide, in what Solae was fairly certain was alarm. Facial features were hard to read, but body language was blessedly universal, making it exponentially easier to communicate if they encountered a language barrier. First contact protocol utilized reading subtle physical cues extensively when there was no common tongue known. "Where is Bouradine?" she demanded, frightened.

"He's fine," Solae replied with a practiced calm, soothing tone. "My attache is helping him and a wounded soldier that was in his care. We didn't come to hurt either of you or take you anywhere you don't want to go," she added, "just to talk. The Kalderi were troubled about your disappearance. I can lead you back to Mr. Bouradine and my retinue. You may not be familiar with the human empire, but I swear to you on my empress that we have honest intentions. We are here to talk and help," she reiterated.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Bouradine, who was much more attached to living beyond the next few minutes than having a misunderstanding blown out of proportion, quickly pulled out his pistol and veritably tossed on the ground as if it was a live grenade that he had to immediately distance himself from to survive. It was not the method in which Rene had instructed him, but the pistol still had the safety lock engaged, and bounced harmlessly in the dirt. The merchant was not a real threat; he was panicked, with a basic knowledge of firearms only as a means for self-defense, and neither equipped nor willing to engage a marine in combat. Terror tended to make people who didn't have martial training or nerves of steel react unpredictably. That he flung his weapon was probably an expected outcome for the soldier, though he said nothing on the matter, nor did he his body posture indicate anything, not even the relief he surely felt when the minor threat had been eliminated.

Just as the colonel leaned down to cautiously retrieve the pistol, his duchess slipped around the side of Rosaria. Everyone was so fixated on the 'enemy' in front of them, and the curious confrontation with the man, that they had been too distracted to notice what the wayward noblewoman was doing. Dasin belatedly stretched out an arm just as she was out of reach, while their teenage companion nearly jumped out of her skin as her mistress glided past. Solae knew that if she had taken another route or waited a second longer someone would have stopped her. While what she was doing might take a year off of Rene's life or give him gray hair premature, she was a cunning woman of determination, and she would no more let her friends stay in her way than she would her adversaries.

"We can worry about propriety later," she declared by way of introduction. "I am Duchess Solae Falia and we come as friends. The Kalderi were worried about their missing citizen, but we can address that after we tend to the injured. We have better medical supplies on our ship," she added as she did a visual assessment of the wounded woman. Rene would be a better judge of what sort of treatment she needed, but the Bonaventure would have an actual bed and equipment that they had acquired during their travels. Ten, mercenary man of ambiguous morals that he was, had stocked them with enough to last them weeks of constant scuffles easily. "Dasin, Yarue, do you think the two of you could carry her to the ship? No offense to Rene, I think you'd have an easier time of it," she said with a bright smile. There probably wasn't an aristocrat in the sector that would so fondly remember being slung over a shoulder.

"D-duchess?" Bouradine stammered again, perplexed. His eyes grew wider as he drank in the refined features of the golden-haired woman in front of him that was so direct and compassionate. He couldn't quite decide what was more bizarre- that he had been found, that a duchess had visited his abandoned planet seeking him out, that she was there apparently on behalf of the Kalderi, that she was personally concerned about the health of a single marine, that she had two Syshin with her, that the Syshin were dressed in uniforms, that the Syshin's uniforms were obviously tailored for their specific use, or that she spoke to them with respect when the empire habitually treated them as slaves. Fiction was less strange than the scene unfolding in front of him. Too stunned into silence to object, his stare traveled around the group.

"Yes, we can carry her," Dasin affirmed, "easier together as two if she is hurt, but we are here to protect you." His large eyes went from the half-conscious warrior to the diplomat who looked on with worry.

"My life isn't in danger, though, and hers is," Solae pointed out. "Where is Bel'sian, Mr. Bouradine?" Without consciously meaning to the reluctant leader had taken control of the situation and, just as unconsciously, Bouradine respected her inherent authority. Later he would reflect about what made her so compelling. The fact of the matter that whenever an individual acted as if they were a responsible person to make decisions (as the linguist did not), those around the individual in question would respond in kind so long as they were reasonable.

"Are you going to take her away?" the merchant panicked.

"No, I would never take someone anywhere against their will. Dasin and Yarue can carry the marine to our ship, and we will prove to you that we are the honorable members of the empire we claim ourselves to be, so Rene will escort you there as well. Once this lady has been stabilized we can discuss how we all came to be here. Rosaria and I will go to Bel'sian. You have my word as a Falia, we will do nothing more than talk to her and bring her to the ship."

It wasn't as if there was a true choice. Bouradine recognized they wouldn't just leave after coming all this way. Looking at the marine, and then at the earnest blue eyes in front of him, he sighed. There was no better option than trusting. If he was reading the 'room' correctly, the trio of armed men would back up whatever their leader asked of them, and she was quite set on her plan- enough that he doubted the muscular man with the rifle could dissuade her. Besides, had they meant to kill him, they would have done so already and departed for their next target. "She's down the path," he said with a gesture towards the worn path towards the ruins.

The Betrothed

Rhiane struggled to keep control of her facial features internally, though none of her inner conflict reflected on her visage, which still had a smile plastered on it as she glanced towards the crowds that were lingering behind the perimeter created by the bodyguards and press escort. The very suggestion was absolutely preposterous. Not only was it wretchedly insulting, she could only imagine what his reaction might be if she very casually offered to have one of her flings provide him with a list of possible wedding rings for him to chose from. Of course Luke did not put himself in her shoes. Decades of life within the palace as the pampered crown prince meant that he never had to empathize with anyone else and could instead focus solely on the pressures of his role in the monarchy. She did not assume that it was an upbringing without extreme stress, she was just certain that he had been allowed to become selfish, to enjoy an existence where his thoughts and emotions were valued much more highly than the vast majority of his usual interactions. In a way she almost pitied Anette for not knowing how inconsequential she was to him.

"Humans are very fallible creatures," she murmured in response after a prolonged silence. It was only as they were getting into the SUV that she decided she would respond to him in any meaningful way. "I'm sure I'll be asked about my ring in the future, and I might accidentally let it slip that not only did I pick it out myself, it was from a list prepared for my by your ex. A story like that wouldn't be an issue for you, would it?" she asked innocently in that sweetly furious voice she used when she was incensed to a cold rage.

The former farmer knew exactly would happen if she 'mistakenly' divulged the ring process to the media. Just like any others article of news surrounding the crown it would be dissected and sensationalized to the extreme. There would be a rush to discover the identity of the ex and, if no one immediately made the deduction, there would be a veritable parade of his past dalliances broadcasted every night to estimate the probability they were the one referenced. Any credence they had lent to their charade would crumble under the weight of her tale and the illusion of a enviable romance would shatter. Admittedly it would not necessarily be a death blow, it would just be a crisis they could not afford, even if much of the blame could be shifted onto the princess elect for divulging what she knew she ought not to. With so many eyes on them it would be a challenge to punish her effectively without tarnishing their image further.

Realizing she was stomping on what may have been a horribly ill-conceived olive branch she sat down in her seat, strapped on her seat belt, and pulled out a borrowed device that Tobias had lent to her. Because Luke had failed to go to bed with her last night, and had spent so long with his mother and the red-headed demon, he had yet to meet the conditions under which she'd accept the phone model he had tried to gift her previously. "For the record, I believe Callie and I would have the same opinion on jewelry. When someone picks out something for you, even if it's not precisely what you might have selected yourself, the sentiment makes it more beautiful than it would be otherwise. I'm sure she'll be pleased with her present," she explained as if they were debating nothing more than his purchase. Nolan and Tobias wouldn't expose their private conversations, but it still wasn't an argument she wanted to have in front of them all the same.

For the entire ride to the school she was suspiciously silent, reading articles from her hometown's various publications and blogs. Many candidates for the contests to win Luke's hand in marriage had worn jewelry; she was the exception, not the norm, and none of the final contestants except Rhiane were so devoid of accessories. When she formally moved into the palace she had no necklaces, bracelets, watches, and only very simple hoop and stud earrings with no decorative extras for a change in attire. Any time she had made an appearance with any such trinket it had been selected for her by a stylist, though she had been somewhat consistent that, the few times her opinion was requested, she elected for something less ostentatious. Similarly her dresses had been like her paintings, focused on vivid color, decorative artistic embroidery, and traditionally appealing artistry than it was about being fashion forward, expensive, or the most eye-catching. She had always been someone who valued skill over glamour, which was why the luxury of the wealthy elite did not impress her as much as the elaborate pottery in one of their first tour stops.

The caravan of expensive vehicles came to a stop in front of an old school weathered with age. It was not derelict, having been cleaned the last couple days with intense fervor, but no amount of washing could hide it was far from the new architectural wonders where the highest pedigree of teachers assembled to greet the children of the country's leaders. Large trees with leaves the color of a blazing sunset flocked the entry to the school and were interspersed throughout the front and sight yards. Cars, the sort driven by the lower and middle class, filled the parking lot, with not a soul in sight. The moment the engines idled an older gentleman, two older ladies, and a man approximately the age of the couple sprang out from the front doors- their greeting party. One of the older ladies was the principal, the older gentleman a member of the local school board that oversaw the educational system in the town, and the other older lady was a counselor stationed at the school. Oddly enough the somewhat handsome man in his late twenties or early thirties was not on their itinerary, clearly a late addition.

"Ah, it's an old friend," Rhiane smiled, sounding not at all surprised. Tobias lifted his eyes to glance at her in the rear-view window. Something about the way she had grinned, and the choice of the word 'friend,' told him that this was her doing, and was part of a plot that would shake up what had been original envisioned.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"What do you think it means?" Rosaria inquired, ever the inquisitive young woman. While the duchess was reluctant to make assumptions about the internal thoughts of any other intelligent life form, she was relatively certain the teen was eager for confrontation in equal measure to how much Solae and Rene were anxious. To Rosaraia it was still something of a novelty. For the adults, however, they had enough experience to be cautious and apprehensive. The diplomat was optimistic that the encounter would go well, but the appearance of a military escape pod was an unforeseen wrinkle, and suggested that this would not go nearly as smoothly as she secretly wished it would.

"This doesn't change anything," the former marquise quickly interjected to head off any inquiries if this meant they would advance with their sidearms drawn. The few weeks spent together, as well as recent prodding about a 'real weapon,' made her anticipate the next unspoken question. It was still only one escape pod. She didn't want to jeopardize a peaceful exchange of pleasantries by having their guns aggressively in hand. Privately she assessed that there was little to no chance whatever soldier stole the pod would be on par with her fiance's skills. Modest as he was, time and time again he had proven himself to be an exceptional combatant, and she was confident it would play in her favor in the future as well. It was much easier for her to make demands (and excuses) for keeping him by her side if were was a tangible benefit that he provided. Had she fallen in with a tradesman or craftsman it would be next to impossible to include him in her daily duties until after marriage.

"What is the allegiance of your military?" Yarue asked after a moment of contemplation. He had been briefed on the coup staged by Duke Tan, but needless to say he had no education on the empire on a whole, and had little knowledge about the intricacies of their structure. Both he and Dasin were still trying to wrap their head around the brewing galactic war. Syshin was a peaceful species on a whole whose actual physical fighting with each other was limited and hardly ever to the death. The very concept of killing each other for power was a foreign and had to be explained multiple times.

"With the exception of Rene, the imperial marines on New Concordia were murdered outright, no doubt because of their unwavering fealty to our empress. Duke Tan does have troops, and some of them may be imperial marines, but it's unlikely he's had as much success gathering their support as others. We're far enough from the battles that I don't think they will know what's happened in the Eastern Cross yet and, even if we assume they did... it doesn't make much sense for a soldier to defect here, by himself, on an abandoned planet. Whomever used that pod being unaligned is the most probable scenario," she mused aloud.

There was a small chance she would have authority still over the wayward citizen that had touched down here. The armed forces indoctrinated respect for figures in the upper strata of the society more than most. If that failed, whomever used the military escape pod may defer to Rene, if not for his rank than because of his service and skill. Perhaps it was naive of her to try to cling to her optimism in arriving at the conclusion that the appearance of a detachment of an imperial destroyer would not prove detrimental. Surely the influence of a treasonous narcissist would not work against them here in the farthest reaches of their sprawling civilization.

The terrain proved to be more a hindrance than their discovery. While Rene could easily keep his pace, and Rosaria to a lesser degree, Solae's genetic predisposition to athleticism had been mitigated somewhat by her sedentary lifestyle. Yarue and Dasin fared the best on the rocky downward slope; their race was unaccustomed to the tundra, but they had evolved to be able to scale much less hospitable landscapes on their homeworld, where the weather created towering dunes and mountains of stone rubble were more prevalent than grassy plains. Dasin subtly moved to Solae's opposite side from Rene to silently prepare to help catch her if she stumbled, not wanting to injure her pride or impose on Rene's role as her 'mate.'

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I'm not the first official Imperial contact," she objected, "it was settled before. I would argue technically the people who settled it before had the right to name it then, regardless of whether or not there was officially an empire," Solae pointed out. They could narrow down the possibilities of what year the world they had landed on was terraformed, but not with absolute precision. In the olden days the process was not nearly as efficient as the present day technology. Their ancestors might have had to weight a considerable amount of time between beginning their endeavor and actually determining that their end result was safe enough to visit. The modern era had sped up the process, though it was widely joked that the bureaucracy involved did not hasten how long it took from inception until clearance was given for building.

"Is it possible to find its old name?" Yarue inquired curiously, genuinely uncertain of the limitations of their records. Because the Syshin were less 'advanced' as a civilization they did not have the robust databases of their oppressors. They had been discovered by wayward explorers centuries before they would be able to invent a ship that could traverse their solar system, much less be capable of intergalactic travel. This was one of the many reasons their prowess did not given them an advantage against the species that subjugated them. Truly they had never stood a chance against the innovative weaponry that came after first contact, when morally bankrupt attaches realized that they could be laborers, and giving them freedom or basic rights could be circumvented.

"It's very unlikely," Solae conceded after a moment's pause for thought. Rene wasn't wrong in his assertion that she had the unique privilege and authority to grant a new name to these lands, it was just that she felt strangely reluctant. Some part of her felt it was ethically wrong, even if the wild beasts, mountains, and seas did not care one way or another. If anything it was more disrespectful to have a designation of letters and numbers. Idly she chewed on the inside of her cheek. An arrogant man would name the first remarkable discovery he made after himself. To the golden-haired woman it was the least desirable of all her choices to the point she would quite literally rather name it 'Rock' or something similarly absurd.

For their part both Dasin and Yarue had fallen characteristically silent again, but Rosaria, who had never before stretched her proverbial wings, leapt at the opportunity in front of her. "I can name it instead if you don't want to," she offered as if it was a selfless gesture. She was fooling no one except perhaps herself. The Syshin exchanged knowing looks and she saw the edges of her valiant escort's lips twitch in either amusement, frustration, or a mixture of both.

"I appreciate it," Solae began graciously as they continued to walk, and she could see a hopeful overeager glint in her younger companion's eyes, "but there's a certain protocol to these things. Either we'll follow the tradition or..." she let the unfinished thought hang in the air playfully. The men in the group didn't let it bother them. Sooner or later it would be resolved, one way or another, and none of the three were particularly invested in what the final decision was; it wasn't as if their quest would be altered by such a detail. Rosaria, whose patience was wafer-thin, stared at her incredulously waiting for the next word. The duchess's acting talents shown as she feigned a prolonged lapse.

After slightly more than thirty seconds but less than a minute Rosaria, flushed, interjected, "Or what?"

"Oh, well," Solae started, noting a sly smirk from Rene who took a certain measure of pleasure seeing her tease the demanding teenager, "If we aren't going to follow tradition we can defy it purposefully to make a statement of sorts. Many, many centuries ago there was willful social or civil disobedience that was more commonplace. You wouldn't necessarily break any laws in a tangible way that might merit punishment, but you could sidestep them, or ignore ones that relied on patterns of behavior to gain acceptance within the community.

There was only one answer that Rosaria would give to such a query, which Solae had shrewdly anticipated. "We're not sticking with tradition, right?" The excitement in her voice belied the fact that she mistakenly believed that she, a girl not yet through puberty, might name the second planet she had been on after Zatis, the third in her young life.

"If we're going to thumb our noses at tradition to make a statement, we need to craft it carefully, so that it has lasting impact and shines a light on injustices. Dasin, Yarue, what would you name a place like this?" she asked the pair of former slaves. They were both startled out of their passive listening and were so shocked at the gravity of the suggestion that Dasin stumbled over his two feet briefly before catching himself and righting his posture.

Expecting they could be there for hours, if not days, weeks, months, or years, trying to persuade one of the Syshin that her offer was genuine, she laughed lightly and smiled reassuringly. "We'll name it Huodan, a word that means togetherness and community in their tongue. I couldn't possibly name it after all the lives lost on New Concordia," she explained in a more muted, less jovial tone, "and my parents are out of the question. They quite enjoyed their privacy and adventuring such as we have would not have appealed to them at all. Instead I elect to christen this world with a name that reflects both our goals and also commemorates our success in finding each other."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Why can't I have a real weapon?" Rosaria objected. She was a teenager but the petulance in her voice was vaguely reminiscent of a whining child half her age. The duchess wished she could have said she had never heard or seen an adult throw a tantrum over a perfectly reasonable decision; the truth was a great number of the aristocracy had honed their skills in being overtly upset into a fine art. Her recent promotion fortunately meant that noblemen and women would be more reluctant to show this side of themselves. The lower one was in the complex socio-political strata of the empire, the greater the chance of becoming the target of the frustrations of the a lord or lady, regardless of whether it was an irate tirade, chastisement, or unwarranted punishment. Such petty maneuvers of the court were distant enough that the diplomat found herself smiling at the similarity rather becoming annoyed herself.

"That weapon is real enough," Solae pointed out. She had secured one pistol (for lack of a better term) for herself and her younger counterpart. Unable to bring herself to carry a lethal firearm, hers and Rosaria's were loaded with exceedingly potent tranquilizers. In her heart of hearts she knew that Rene would be more comfortable with her being able to defend herself with more force. By her own admission she had nearly been dragged off by slavers once, almost been apprehended by Duke Tan's mercenaries on Zatis, and had to threaten a man that held her paramour captive. The need, coupled with recent training, was a perfect scenario for her to take the plunge, but it was a step she could not take. Merely thinking of having that sort of power under her fingertips made her queasy. She did not trust her judgment in life and death a fraction as much as she inherently trusted her fiance's.

"This is bullshit," Rosaria grumbled. Yarue and Dasin were visibly rankled at the criticism, which was veritable slander against their mistress, but the linguist put up a calming hand and smiled.

"Well then, you can spend some of your free time composing a thorough argument for why you have earned the right for a 'real weapon' as you put it. I'll accept it in either written or verbal format, and I will review it with Rene when it's completed," she said with a grin that made it clear she was enjoying this far too much. For someone as gifted with all the methods of communication it was a fun exercise to undertake. To a recently freed youth that had come to resent aspects of her formal education it was absolute torture. It was not an assignment without merit. Solae wanted Rosaria to explore her emotions, not dismiss them as Thorne had taught her, so long as she took the time to realize that not every feeling deserved action.

Honestly it was an unspoken agreement between the adults that Rosaria was not ready for a lethal weapon. Yarue and Dasin had the physical prowess to defend themselves. Something about them made Solae have unwavering faith that they were sufficiently responsible not to abuse the 'privilege' of being allowed in the firearms cache. None of the four could say the adolescent had yet earned their confidence she wouldn't be reckless, excitable, or panicked depending. Thorne had groomed her to take over a criminal enterprise. From what they had seen, however, she had no experience with the world outside her tutor. They were just acclimating her to the universe and encouraging empathy. Handing her a loaded plasma rifle could undo their progress and the Syshin were skeptical that she didn't have a ruthless streak underneath her trauma.

The wilderness posed a challenge to the crew of the Bonaventure unlike other planets. When they had touched down on an oceanic planet there was a sea separating the ship from its resident duo. On this deserted world there were forests, mountains, and other obstructions that could cause interference, without the benefit of the infrastructure they had found on Zatis or with the Kalderi that allowed quick, efficient contact with the vessel and its resident AI. Freak weather, unknown creatures, and towering constructs meant that it would be difficult to reach Mia unless they found a better connecting link.

With the assistance of Mia, Solae had repurposed some scrap pieces of technology to fabricate an improved relay. It must much less subtle than her regular communication devices, but wouldn't be as hindered by structures or hills, depending on how far they had to travel given that the two they were visiting could flee to remain hidden. A cord of metal and plastic curled over one ear and up onto her temple with synthesized silicone helping it stay in place. A small visor could be rotated up above her hairline or over her left eye if she decided that computer analysis was required. Fashionable socialites would be horrified at the sight of her. Caring nothing for aesthetics, and even less what her peers would think of her reliance on a machine, she had been excited about testing out how it would affect their exploration.

"Are you sure that is... safe?" Dasin inquired with what she knew to be a Syshin expression of concern on his features.

"I am ethically barred from assisting humans in manufacturing, using, or maintaining any item that could cause harm to another human unless in self defense," the AI interjected in a seductive purr over the speakers.

"That is her way of saying yes, it is safe. She can't give us absolutes, since mathematically there is always a minuscule probability that things could could awry, but it's statistically negligent. I'll be fine," Solae assured, putting her hand on Dasin's forearm with a friendly smile. He relaxed a little. When they had first met neither Syshin welcomed contact of any sort. Within a week they had started to warm to Solae in particular, who used it as a way to express affection, or convey a positive message when words were insufficient.

"If you would lead the way, kind sir," she added, looking to Rene. It was safer for him to "run point" but she played it off with some humor so as not to alarm her companions. Their theory that the two they were seeking were lovers was still in the front of her mind, but the closer they got to them the more apprehensive she was that they had misjudged the circumstances completely.