Rene was simmering eggs on a pan when Mia called him. The eggs were as large as apples and had a slightly bluish hue, he had no idea what they were, not Terran chickens certainly. Life had not provided him with much opportunity for culinary training, beyond how to make a ration pack marginally less disgusting but he at least had the presence of mind to cut the heat to the pan before he bolted for the bedroom.

He flew up the stairs two at a time, the stolen pistol in his hand and the sword hooked through his belt. What ‘minor medical distress’ meant to an AI was an open question and he would rather not find out that Mia had underestimated the problem. Plenty of minor problems could be fatal when their margin of survival was already so low. Blood infection or hemorrhagic fever were ‘minor’ issues if you could afford to spend a few days in hospital after all. Besides, if he were honest, the dreams had left him jumpy. Part of his mind expected to find Solae dead on the velvet soft colors just as he had found Amellia.

The door to the bedroom slid open before him as Mia unknowingly rebuked him for his worry. The sound of retching came from the ensuite bathroom and he slowed his sprint to a walk. The door was open so he cautiously stepped inside. Solae was on her knees attempting to vomit, though clearly all she could do at this point was bring up bile. The bathroom itself was tiled in an expensive herringbone of some sort of natural wood, while the toilet itself was a shifting nacreous think, like an opal but less pleasing to the eye. 
He wrapped a knuckle on the door jam politely, although there was no possibility she hadn’t heard the thundering of combat boots or the clatter of equipment as he raced through the house. 

“Solae? I’m sorry… I mean are you alright?”