Tychon led them into the small guest bedroom, packing his wife’s craft supplies away with a quick care that Rene found touching. Damaris practically clung to his leg and he didn’t object. Rene couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for the man. Judging by the dirt on his clothing he had been out there digging survivors out of the rubble, all the while feeling that his own child was dead. It must have seemed a miracle to have the girl back whole and healthy, Rene supposed that in a way it was. The whole Eastern Cross might be descending into civil war, but at least here, at this village, they had done something good. Of course that assumed that their presence didn’t bring ruin on their kindly benefactors. 

“I’m sorry we weren’t expecting guests,” Tychon said, not for the first time, as he hastily cleared space on the bed for them. He gave Rene a measuring look when he thought the marine wasn’t watching. Tychon was no soldier, but he had the look of a man who had led a hard life, and recognised a dangerous man when he saw one. Rene didn’t think of himself as imposing but his genetic modification, aristocratic features, and the lean lithe grace that combat training imparted gave him a presence that marked him as someone to be wary of.

“So what kind of fuel do you need Sir Rene,” Tycon asked a trifle awkwardly as he finished stacking boxes into a corner. The bed wasn’t huge but still larger than the captains bunk that Rene and Solae shared on the Bonaventure. A handmade quilt covered it, green and blue with a pattern vaguely reminiscent of coral stitched into it with a slightly reflective thread. Carefully, Rene set his duffle bag in a corner, controlling his reluctance to set aside a weapon with some difficulty. You couldn’t be ‘on’ all the time, and trying to be was dangerous as well as pointless.

“Just Rene is fine,” the soldier objected, his current status in the Stellar Empire certainly didn’t grant him the right to the title, and even if it did, this wasn't a setting in which he would have insisted on formality. 

“ And anything with an isotopic purity greater than .95 SD’s will be fine,” Rene went on. Starships reactors worked by combining any one of a half dozen different elements in a fusion reaction that was contained in a magnetic suspension rig. The actual material used for fuel didn’t matter so long as it was light and it was pure. Even advanced reactors couldn’t handle heterogeneous fuel sources because the uneven fluxes quickly magnified until the containment failed. Larger vessels had conditioning equipment which could homogenize the fuel but the space and cost of such systems made them impractical on small tramps like the Bonaventure. Tychon sucked in his lip.

“We keep liquid fluorine to stabilize the coral, it's probably pure enough for you, I know a guy who works there,” the man said with a nod of approval. The room was small and with three adults and a child present the air was close. Rene didn’t imagine that showers would be a priority any time soon, not without electricity to run the pumps.

“Will he sell it to us, we need quite a bit,” Rene asked. He had been prepared to steal fuel if they needed to but would have been just as happy not to run any unnecessary risks. Tychon’s grin grew broader.

“He will when I remind him that I pulled his nephew out of a collapsed warehouse. Don’t you folks worry, we won’t forget what you have done for us.” He bade them goodnight and headed for his own bedroom, half carrying half dragging his exhausted but excited daughter with him. Rene sank wearily into of of the chairs which had been cleared of the clutter of a decade, feeling the weariness and stress of the voyage settle into his bones. Solae smiled at him and crossed the room, she unbuttoned his salt crusted shirt and drew a moist towel from a dispenser in the first aid kit and began to wipe away the salt and sweat, the nearest approximation to a bath that was available in the present condition. Rene’s muscles twitched and quivered with tension and exhaustion. It had been a very long time since he slept for more than a snatch. He opened his mouth to speak, he wanted to talk about the communications station and about plans for getting the fuel to the ship but Solae silenced him with a kiss and continued to clean him up.

“I love you…” he mumbled, his eyelids suddenly very heavy. Solae put a finger up to his lips to stop him from speaking but his head lolled to the side as he slid into exhausted dreamless sleep.