Rene lowered the pistol he had drawn from his belt till it was flat against his trouser leg. The grizzled old man in tactical armor clearly saw the weapon but didn’t seem too concerned. As the man had said, had they wanted to shoot them they could have done so before the sniper abandoned his, no her, perch. He was just jumpy. The hike from the manor had been largely uneventful, they had kept to garden trails and back roads as much as they could. There had been occasional Gid patrols in the distance, along the larger roads but Rene had the sense that they were in the eye of a hurricane. The locals were clearly locking down the spaceport, that much was evident from the crawling pace of traffic on the major roads they had skirted. Low wheeled trucks loaded with rice and other produce destined for the markets of Armistice, stretched out for miles. Clear evidence of roadblocks and lengthy searches. The searchers were also out ahead of them. Rene caught the distant flashes of aircraft and jumpers in the distance, doubtless supporting a search on foot. The stay at Armon’s manor had thrown the Gids off the scent but he wasn’t fool enough to think their good fortune could last forever. Although if what the fellow said was true maybe a little longer. The big man gestured at the gun with the nod of his chin.

“What do you think your chances are,” Min Ho asked speculatively. Rene’s eye flicked side to side, considering his options.

“Fifteen or twenty percent, depending on how much your partner likes you,” he replied, although truthfully, the optimum moment to strike had already passed.

“Twenty  on a good day then,” the woman chortled, gesturing urgently at the entrance to the two story home. Rene let the pistol slip back into his pocket. Min ho relaxed slightly, although it was hard to say exactly what in his posture conveyed the impression.

The interior of the house was cool after the smouldering heat of late afternoon. It was simply laid out, a large kitchen and dining area with large bedrooms off to the side. Earthenware pots, some sealed with wax, lined shelves of knotty tropical wood on the entire length of one wall. Bundles of dried beans and herbs hung from rafters of the same dark tropical wood as the shelving, filling the room with a spicy exotic aroma. A small fireplace burned in a corner over which a pot of fire blackened iron hung simmering, a vegetable soup of some kind at a low rolling boil. A simple stairway led to the upper story and down into what was either a root cellar or an armory. Rene supposed there was no reason it couldn’t be both. 

The woman bustled in behind them and closed the door, propping the improbably large rifle behind it so the weapon would be concealed to anyone entering that way. The make was unfamiliar, though it had the look of the big anti-material rifles that vacuum commandos used. She caught Rene’s glance at the soup and tsked.

“We have generators, we are just saving the power cells incase these fools burn down the whole city. In case you were wondering,” she commented with acid directed in the direction of armistice with a gesture. Rene hadn’t been wondering. He was so used to the peasant hovels out near the Rat Trap that it hadn’t even registered that there was no electric power on display. 

“Ma’am,” he responded with neutral politeness. He glanced at Solae, though he wasn’t sure what he expected to find on the marquessa’s face. She too was diplomatically blank for the moment.

“You obviously know who the lady is,” Rene said, his stance still guarded but no longer coiled to strike like a Leshi viper.

“Who are you?” he nodded at the mans impressive armor, “concerned citizens?”