Solae had fallen unconscious although she would not be able to recall herself at what point the world went black. Her memory was scrambled and blurred by overwhelming sensations that had collided aggressively with medical distress. Inertia slamming her into one side of her seat (as it had done to Rene), deafening noises, vertigo caused by reckless acceleration and deceleration, and a litany of other stimuli had been too much for her body to handle. Unable to process the whirling images and sounds around her she had been ejected into [i]nothing.[/i] The marquise did not dream for she was not asleep. Every mental process not dedicated to self-preservation had been shut down as if she herself was a ship focusing only on life support systems. She might have drowned in that void without waking had it not been for the timely intervention of the very man who had saved her many times before.

The injection of both adrenaline and anti-inflammatory medication was followed by the faint whistling sound of Solae's breathing, which was being forced through a swollen windpipe, morphing itself into a less troubling wheeze. Sputtering she began to cough up phlegm speckled with the unintentionally inhaled byproduct of combustion that had been the source of so much irritation. As restricted airways shrank back and allowed more oxygen color began to return to her cheeks. There were still injuries that would take more time to remedy, such as the hip wound that was perpetually strained to the point its healing failed to progress, but none were lethal. Solae would be uncomfortable but not in any true danger.

"Rene," she groaned. Eyes fluttered open a few seconds later; she had not needed to see the soldier to instinctively know his embrace. The diplomat tried to move herself upright but even with chemical assistance her muscles protested sufficiently she abandoned the attempt. Everywhere ached. Her legs were sore from sprinting, her hip throbbed where sutures barely held in place, her torso was bruised from both falling in the altercation with the slavers and them being tossed around in her console seat, her neck was damaged from the heat, and there was a gash on her cheek from a protruding sugar cane stalk, yet she was happy to be alive. They had escaped. Nothing that plagued her now had permanent consequences. Time, supplies she knew were on board, and rest would aid in her full recovery.

"Rene... let's get married," she proposed without any grace. Her head was swimming and she was disoriented, unable to focus on any his facial features individually, but she was not delusional. "If... if something happens to me you can inherit everything that passed on to me from my parents," she continued. Both of her cousins could object and stake a claim on the Falia fortune but it would take ages for them to have even a chance of success given the complicated legal system. Their names would be dragged through the mud due to their distance to Solae prior to the attack on New Concordia. Being labeled as greedy did not stop many, not when there were vast sums of money being contested, but it would do them no favors. Even now she could hear accusations of them being petty, not truly caring about their lineage, about being indirectly responsible for her family's passing for not intervening even if impossible, possibly how they did not deserve their status.

Although they were safe now, and the Stellar Empire was closer than it had even been before, the linguist was truly beginning to grapple with her mortality. She had enough brushes with death she had no illusions that she was invulnerable. The vessel on which they were traveling was not a carrier equipped for blazing speeds or equipped with communications that would immediately secure their future. Solae was internally pensive and scared of not only another attack of the rebellion but what would occur after she was gone. They might need to travel for weeks before finding the right general to listen to their report and in that time anything, absolutely anything, could happen. Between herself and Rene she was the weakest link.

While an engagement, and marriage, as preparations for her demise might be unpalatable she could not deny she had an ulterior motive. Speaking to the Syshin had made it apparent to her that the actual bond between herself and Rene was fledgling at best and had no proper name. They were not dating because there hadn't been a chance for romantic outings to the theatre, a restaurant, or a perfectly manicured park. Boyfriend and girlfriend were not applicable labels either since they had not had the need to have an explicit discussion for the few. Being a [i]girlfriend[/i] suggested a more flippant attachment as the scions that utilized it were not seriously courting on a whole and instead were using one another for mutual gratification. Only a fiance and fiancee meant much of anything in the world of the elite as it was a contractual obligation to not turn on one another, not to discard one another so easily, that there was even a chance of something more lasting and meaningful. Solae did not fit into the conventional marquise mold but she was undoubtedly shaped by some of their social expectations and thoughts.

It was equal parts selfish and selfless. Perhaps Rene, kind and gentle as he was, would see only the latter. She had warned him to turn away from her before she was unable to let go. There had been no doubts in her mind she would become possessive and needy as both time and dire circumstances entrenched him more deeply in her heart. Now that he had refused to do so Solae found herself finding reasons to try to grip onto him in desperation.