Rene endured the questions without immediate response. He didn’t blame Solae for not liking the current plan. There were alot of things that could go wrong, starting with the very real risk of drowning while they tried to cross the straight. He sat down on an upturned packing crate and tore open one of the simple single use medical packs that they had liberated from the plantation back on New Concrdia. He wiped off his shoulder with some gauze only to watch the blood well up from the cut almost immediately. It didn’t hurt exactly it was just an ache that was a little more intense than the general ache his body had developed. Swimming in storm tossed seas was a pretty high energy activity and even in top fighting condition he couldn’t expect to come away scott free. There was a small container of spray sealant, about the size of a pen, which he picked up and primed. Wiping the blood away once more he triggered the sealant which hissed out in a greyish mist, spraying his shoulder with a combination of antiseptic and a bio-synthetic glue which dried almost instantly to the consistency of latex. It wasn’t quite clear but it was translucent enough that you could see through it without difficulty.

“Thank you,” he said smiling at  Solae as  set a cup of coffee down by his uninjured side.

“I think it should probably be stitched,” he said after a moments consideration and fished the surgical stapler from their hoard of medical supplies. He turned the stapler butt first and handed it to Solae who looked deeply uncertain.

“Just hold it over the wound and press that toggle on the side,” he encouraged. The stapler cast a dozen horizontal laser beams in a grid pattern over the wound. A moment later the beams narrowed into short discrete targets as the program recognized the wound and calculated the necessary size and shape of the sutchers needed.

“Press it down where the…” But Solae had already grapsed the idea and pressed the stapler down so that the dispenser lined up with the first target light, it gave a warning click and then a snick snack sound as it delivered the first staple. Rene felt the tug in his flesh but the topical analgesic in the spray seal stopped him from feeling any real pain.

“See? We will have you certified as a combat medic in no time.” It took Solae only another minute or two to place the seven stitches the computer deemed necessary. When she was done Rene applied another blast of spray sealant to cover the sutures up. When she was done he took her hands and kissed them, turning them over and kissing her palms as well in the fashion of noble lovers.

“Solae, I wish I had more answers for you,” he said at last, returning to her original questions. He wanted very badly to tell her that everything would be alright and that he had a plan for every eventuality. He wanted her to know that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her and that she was perfectly safe. Lying wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed and he wasn’t about to start lying to Solae just to make her feel a little better. Besides, he thought ruefully, as a diplomat she could probably have seen right through him.

“The truth is I don’t know. There is no way for us to know what conditions are like in San Roayo. We won’t know until we get there and see for ourselves.” He had a few vague notions about putting fuel on a ship and bringing it close enough that they could run lines to the Bonaventure, that shouldn’t be a problem on a world built on maritime agriculture. Stealing the fuel didn’t bother him in the abstract, he was afterall, the ranking member of the Imperial Military on this world and it was technically within his jurisdiction to requisition supplies a time of war, but as Solae pointed out using a little currency might smooth things over and avoid worse problems. It might equally make sense to take the Bonaventure to the fueling depot directly, even though that meant waiting till the Caldrea dried out enough for them to break the landing gear free.

“Fuel and inform... information,” he said musingly stumbling over the words, his mind felt a little hazy from hours of work in the enevating rain. How long had it been since he had slept? There wasn’t time now so he settled for gulping down the coffee, hoping that the caffeine would clear his mind. The tide would be going out for the next several hours. The retreating water would beach the barge again and he needed to use that window to get their makeshift engine aboard, then wait for the incoming tide to refloat her. High tide would be the best time to risk the reefs, giving them the maximum amount of clearance. He tried to keep the timeline straight in his mind. Once he got the engine aboard he could snatch an hour or two of rest.

“We have got to get access to that uplink and find out what is going on.” His father had always said that in any crisis the first thing to do was think, and the second was to act. The Marines had a similar theory assess, orient, act. Repeat until either the crisis was over or you were dead.

“Are you going to take me to my papa?” a small voice asked from the hatchway. Rene looked up in shock to find Dramaris, wrapped in the sheets of her bed peeking from around the corner. The IV was still in her arm though it had disconnected when she had got up. Rene realised belated that he had forgot to activate the alarms that would have warned him of just such an action.