"Let's put her in the Captain's Quarters," Solae suggested. There really wasn't anywhere else she felt comfortable placing the poor girl; she was already traumatized and she could only imagine how much more terrified she'd be if she woke up in the crew's bunks. The pair of travelers had done their due diligence cleaning but they hadn't anticipated needing the crew's sleeping space as there were only two of them and they enjoyed sharing a bed. As a result they had decided to use the smaller room for storage and failed to change any of the linens. From a distance there wasn't any smell but if one were to crawl up onto the sheets it almost certainly had an unpleasant odor. Though the child was unconscious she also suspected the mattresses were even more lumpy for the [i]Bonaventure's[/i] former underlings than the captain and that rejuvenating rest would be harder-earned with hard springs and uneven batting.

Rene nodded and they proceeded into what was currently functioning as their bedroom. Solae would have offered assistance but the truth was that the soldier was more than capable of carrying Damaris by himself. Genetics had not graced the female linguist with even half the upper body strength her counterpart had before he was forced to join a physical profession. She had never asked him exactly what he was capable of bench pressing but she would be shocked if it was not in excess of her own weight. A few times he had lifted her with so little effort she was in awe of him. Sometime during her years at the embassy she had grown accustomed to men who ran just enough to say fit, used technology to sculpt and tone, and were only as athletic as was aesthetically required. She liked that her paramour could dead-lift a crate without straining and grunting as if he was about to collapse in the process.

Once Damaris had been laid down they covered her with the sheets, tucking her in, and left the canteen on the nightstand. A glass might be preferable but there were two reasons that the canteen was chosen instead: the nipple made it harder for her to gulp down too quickly for her own health (though she had proven it was still logistically possible) and they had already earned her trust that the canteen's water was not drugged or tainted. Solae didn't want to jeopardize any faith that had been placed in her. She knew that to the impressionable youth they were still strangers, ones not even from her world, and that they needed to be conscientious about moving at a pace that proved they had no ill intentions. Rather than closing the door behind them they left it slightly ajar, enough to let light from the attached hallway drift in, and giving her a clear exit once she awoke so she could seek them out with as little anxiety as possible.

Solae motioned for Rene to follow her as she went to the kitchen and began rummaging around for something appropriate for Damaris to eat. She felt responsible for the girl, even though she was not her own daughter or ward, and was reluctant to feed her anything but the best they had to offer. Adults could elect to make choices to eat less-than-optimal snacks or meals, they were responsible for themselves and had the capacity for making that choice, but it was different with children. If either of them wanted to live off crisps and deep-fried starches they had that right. Allowing someone years away from being considered wholly autonomous, someone who was still growing and developing, and who had different needs, would be negligent and/or slightly immoral.

"I can't believe anyone survived washing ashore," she said softly as she shook her head. Tucked away behind meals that were the pinnacle of gluttony were a few sealed cups of vegetables in containers which, once a tab was pulled, would steam cook within minutes. The marquise pulled out the two varieties available and set them on the counter with a sigh. "I know it's not your area of expertise, but maybe you can look her over a little after she wakes up? I don't think she has any major injuries but the least we can do is make certain and treat the scrapes she has before ferrying her home. Which I suppose is something else to discuss, isn't it?"

"What do you want to do?" she asked, leaning back against the economical metal cabinetry. The irony of the fact that their spaceship was largely absent of staining due to its lack of luxurious porous surfaces was not lost on her. Marble, granite, wood, and other more desirable materials would have soaked up blood, bodily fluids, grease, and other drippings that the prior inhabitants had left behind. Because construction had been limited to more easily obtained alloys mass-manufactured for cargo ships, military vessels, and ergonomic transports, there had been nothing prone to staining, and the galley in which they stood not was relatively spotless. "We still need fuel. If you want to take the inflatable and go tonight I can watch over Damaris by myself. Stealth isn't quite my forte but I can't imagine asking her to get on a boat anytime soon even it is to go back to her parents."

"Miss Solae," Mia purred. The aristocrat nearly jumped a foot in the air. Their artificial intelligence companion had been so quiet (so as not to disturb their new guest) that she had honestly forgotten about her presence. Hearing the synthetic voice had startled her and she laughed lightly in embarrassment before Mia continued. "The [i]Bonaventure[/i] appears to have been modified to perform night landings without the detection of law enforcement. While I can not condone the spirit in which these modifications have been made, they may be of use to you should you not want to alarm the nearby colonies."

"Thank you, Mia. Do you think the inflatable can handle the waters, though?" She asked Rene as she furrowed her brow in serious contemplation. "Maybe we need another plan... it's risky for you to go out there by yourself," she worried aloud. There was no practical reason their plot would fail. Solae was simply nervous about letting Rene out of her sight for any length of time, let alone on a mission with any amount of risk, and with no way to contact him if things went awry.