"Well I am glad you enjoyed the spectacle because I have no intention of repeating it," Solae remarked sourly. Her soldier companion had seen her terrified, anxious, injured, assertive, diplomatic, empathetic, and appalled, but perhaps never quite in such a foul mood as she was now. The marquise punched her own release plate, threw off her harness, and abruptly stood up. Both her arms and legs were shaking as an aftereffect from the tensing of her muscles during their descent, a direct result of duress, which made her momentarily unstable on her feet. A few seconds later and she had stepped away from the safety of her conformed navigation seat and its accompanying console. Needing something to do she twisted her long hair and curled it into a loose bun which she pinned into place with a small metal rod that she kept tucked into her hip pocket for exactly this purpose. It was hardly an updo that was worthy of someone of her station and the simple alloy was more ugly than decorative but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"Lady Solae, I would like to congratulate you on a successful landing," Mia said. She was either oblivious to Solae's brooding or attempting to assuage any negative emotions with flattery. The artificial intelligence was impossible to understand whether she was being inappropriately seductive or an unwelcome intrusion into a conversation to which she was not a party. "Your excellent coordination and reflexes are to be commended. In my analysis you make a superior pilot and should handle future operations of the [i]Bonaventure[/i]."

"Absolutely not," was the linguist's immediate protest to the proposal. "Either of you could have landed on the part of the planet not covered in this storm but we picked this spot- and for what? The [i]Bonaventure[/i]'s almost certainly been damaged, perhaps even to the point we'll be stuck here longer than if we had landed somewhere else and moved the ship to the caldera after the storm passed, my nerves are frayed, we're lodged in the mud, and we have no boat to ferry us between here and the closest hint of civilization if anyone has survived. We're alive but for how long? If we're stranded in this spot as a result of our choice we'll be discovered by the rebellion with no means to escape!" Without waiting for a rebuttal she turned and stalked her way out of the cockpit and down the narrow corridor to the hold. The true enemy was the Duke staging this coup and yet she felt worse now than she had when they were slowly orbiting Panopontus.

Solae wanted to feel that they were making progress. She had become engaged to the man of her dreams after he had saved her life more than once. The universe, however, continued to conspire and the pressure she was under to successfully touch down a freighter not meant to withstand gale-force winds in a precise location had been crushing. Her mind flickered back to the parents she had lost, the friend whose life had been drained in front of her eyes, knowledge her family home had been ransacked, her co-workers being butchered, her family home being destroyed, witnessing slavers, and fleeing without any real confidence there would be victory. With a sigh she sat down on one of the long benches that had once been utilized to store Syshin. At her core the marquise doubted she had made a difference.

Besides Rene the only things she had to show from the last week were perhaps a dozen Syshin that had been returned to Amber Horizon safely, a deteriorating vessel stolen from degenerates, and funds siphoned from the same criminals' account. Mia's consciousness had been transferred to the spacecraft but a backed-up version of the synthetic being was also remotely saved elsewhere. Leaning over Solae buried her head in her hands and tried to smooth away her ire. Everyone, she reasoned, had days they felt as if their actions were futile.