In the darkness Rene dreamed. It was at first a kalediscopic thing. Flashes of real events, plasma fire flickering out into the darkness, Solae’s hair catching the sunlight, the smell of blood at the berm of the rat trap. Older memories too, somehow glassy and disconnected, riding at Caralia Major, his family estate, swimming in the cold mountain stream till his lips turned blue. Then there were things that he didn’t think had happened, though his dreaming mind registered them as just as real. He saw himself in the uniform of a fleet admiral, commanding a firing party to execute a criminal. He was the criminal facing the guns, determined to go game and make his last words something witty. Blue waters of some tropical ocean gave way as he plunged into them from a steep cliff dive, rising with a triumphant whoop above the cerulian wavelets. He was an older man, clutching a railing in the Imperial palace as he looked out over the burning city beyond. He was seated on the Imperial Throne in the Hall of Crystal as rank after rank of nobles bent their knees to swear fealty. He tried to shake his head, willing himself to wake from what he now knew to be a dream.

“Reintegration 70 percent,” a dark and distant part of the universe stated to no one in particular. Rene’s eyes fluttered open in the darkness. His limbs didn’t respond to his commands, even his eyes seemed disconnected from his mind, blinking in steady five second intervals as though his body were animated by a metronome. High tech medical facilities didn’t use chemical analgesic. Neural disruptors were used to disconnect the systems responsible for reporting pain or any other sensation. It allowed for procedures to be carried out faster and with a much higher rate of feedback than chemicals would have allowed but it did tend to fragment the patient's consciousness for a few minutes following reconnection. The air tasted overwhelmingly of antiseptic, the first sensation of which he was aware. Others followed rapidly, he realised he was cold, he remembered he was naked, he was in a rev chamber. He felt great. That surprised him. Dozens of minor pains and discomforts he had been carrying were gone, evident by their lack in a way they hadn’t been in his keyed up adrenaline soaked state. He didn’t think he recalled ever feeling this good. Artificial hormones and endocrine complexes had been added to his system, giving him a feeling of rest, of sharpness and rejuvenation, no less welcome for being completely artificially induced. 

He sat up as the top of the chamber slid aside. The room was empty save for a neatly folded set of clothes. Awkwardly, as his muscles were still unsure of whether they should respond, Rene swung his legs over the side and clambered down. He took the dark gray pants and white shirt and began to dress, his fingers growing more familiar with each task. The fact he didn’t have a weapon disturbed him, though he could now remember giving it to Solae. The name bought him fully back to the world of the living. He had been injured and had gone into the Rev chamber, she had been managing the estate. Right.

“Argon, where is Solae?” he asked tersely. 

“She is in the formal dining room Master Quentain,” the computer responded. He pulled on his boots, the only article of clothing that was his own and snapped closed the seals then stood and headed for the elevator.

To Rene’s surprise the formal dining room was a wash of activity. Syshin were gathering up parcels of food and other provisions. Electronics and other trade goods were being stacked neatly for transport. There were a number of weapons, evidently looted from the building’s armory stacked at one end of a large formal dining table. Two Syshin stood over them with cane knifes in their hands and uncomfortable looks on their faces. Rene wondered if the liberated slaves would be more willing to use them than the rank and file at Amber Horizions had been. Lis was in one corner, doing his best to look inconspicuous, the Syshin shot him occasional hostile glances but evidently hadn’t decided to murder the former butler just yet.

“This you,” a Syshin voice rumbled, Rene turned to see the big Syshin who had attacked him thrusting Armon’s sword towards him hilt first.

“Kalrio,” the alien growled. Rene blinked in confusion but closed his hand around the hilt of the blade. He wasn’t wearing a scabbard so he thrust it through his belt as best he could.

“I don’t speak…”

“My name. Kalrio. I thank you for...free people,” the Syshin went on, clearly struggling with the Imperial.

“Kalrio,” Rene said as understanding came to him.

“You are welcome I am…”

“Solae of the Empire has told us what you are,” Kalrio responded and turned and walked away without another word. Rene noticed that his burned back was sticky with some sort of ointment or salve that glistened under the artificial light. He frowned at the aliens puzzling reactions but could only shrug his shoulders. His heart rose as he finally spotted a flash of golden hair. Solae was in a corner working on something at a terminal. He moved quickly across the floor to her, the noise of his approach causing her to turn her eyes widening in surprise. 

“Your treatment was completed twenty minutes ahead of the initial estimate master Quentain, this may account for the Mistress’ surprise,” Argon interjected but Rene wasn’t listening. Part of his mind had been terrified something had happened while he was out, even though he knew Argon would have told him. He swept Solae up into his arms and kissed her, a broad smile breaking across his face.