Both of the men watched Solae go in something of an air of shock. Tychon, who hadn’t seen her take down Vitger was reacting to seeing her in her full persona as a noble of the Stellar Empire for the first time. The previous evening they had been mostly in the dark or concealed by clothing and the pair of them had left before Solae awoke. Rene’s shock was like that of a man who had narrowly missed being hit by a car, or, more accurately, narrowly watched the woman he loved being struck by it. A rush of relief flooded through him, relief that she was ok, and relief that he wouldn’t have to murder Vitger in cold blood, he would have done it had it been necessary but he was immensely relieved that Solae’s plan solved the problem.

“Seas,” Tychon breathed in the tone of a prayer.

“Right?” Rene agreed before checking Tychon over. The fisherman had a dozen punctures and plenty of minor wounds and small electrical burns but beyond that seemed to be ok.

“Rene, I’m sorry I know you said to run but I couldn’t just leave…”

“Forget it,” Rene advised, “anyone you walk away from right?” Tychon nodded in agreement.

“Right,” he concured, obviously relieved that Rene wasn’t angry with him. Glancing around Rene found a roll of cargo tape on one of the cluttered work benches. Snatching it up he opened the container that Vitger was trapped in, stepping back and pointing the pistol as Vitger should have done. The precaution was needless however as the merchant lay moaning incoherently. Rene stepped up into the container and grabbed the man roughly, trussing his arms with the cargo tape with practiced ease. The tape had a synthetic adhesive with a tensile strength of several hundred kilos and had to be removed with special chemical solvents, it wasn’t something that Vitger would be able to get out of without significant aid. Rene quickly rifled the man's pockets and retrieved a small folding knife a few credits and some candy of dubious quality all of which he tossed out of the container. Vitger stirred and moaned but Rene ignored him. He opted not to tape the mans mouth, he had no love for Vitger but he didn’t want him to panic and choke on his own vomit, not when the container was almost sound proof. Stepping out he closed the door and replaced the chain and lock sealing the merchant as effectively as any holding cell.

“Alright, lets get to work,” Rene said, ignoring the pain in his chest where eletrical current had violent spasmed his muscles. 

“Maybe once your dressed,” Tychon grinned and tossed Rene’s boot to him in an underhanded throw.

Rene’s initial concern for finding a suitable transport proved unfounded. While the storm had driven most of the coral gathering fleet to ground, the gas emporium had its own vessel, safely stored in one of the warehouses on a demountable trailer. Tychon explained that the plant here made deliveries to smaller island communities once or twice a year and kept the vessel dry between runs. Coral gathering boats had to be cleaned every few weeks to remove molluscs and chaining algae that grew on the hulls, a process which was frustrating enough to justify removing a boat from the water if you didn’t use it regularly. The transport boat was not dissimilar to the barge Rene and Solae had used to cross the straight, save that its midsection bulged with three large tanks and there were a pair of large diesel electric motors mounted on retractable outriggers.

In short order they attached long hoses to the tanks and began to fill them with liquid fluorine from reservoirs built into the foundation of the building. As the pumps chugged a thin sheen of condensation appeared on the metallic skins of the tanks, running down the sides in rivulets. Rene was once again reminded how narrow his education was, or at least how lacking in the basic skills of the world. Without Tychon he couldn’t have managed the fairly simple task but the fisherman’s rough and tumble life gave him familiarity enough to operate all the machinery with Rene acting as unskilled, if willing, hands. Rene supposed that in their own ways they were both specialists, though Rene’s specialization was far more esoteric and far less useful in the lives of most people in the Empire. 

“How much fuel do you think you need to reach this Pi-ay?” Tychon asked, having misheard PEA and assumed it was a world of some sort. Rene rather wished he hadn't overheard that but if the man couldn’t be trusted they were already lost.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, as yet he didn’t even know what world they would make for, that would have to wait for an analysis of the data Solae had pulled from the communications center.

“But I plan to fill the tanks with as much as we can carry.” Before they had left Mia had given Rene a run down on what exactly was required and how much they would need, if his calculations were right they had more than enough here to make several jumps and landings.

“You said your ship is inland, can you move it?” Tychon asked as he through the last closure and began disconnecting the thigh thick black rubber hoses from the tanks. Rene shook his head.

“No its mired in mud, or volcanic silt at least,” he explained, visualising the Bonaventure and her precarious position. Once the water had run off, which might have happened already, they could run up the plasma thrusters and bake the ground hard but that would trap the landing skids beneath baked clay rather than simply mud.

“Poppers,” Tychon said with a shrug when Rene explained this. The solider blinked, taken aback by Tychon’s dismissal of a serious problem. When he saw that Rene didn’t understand he went on.

“Your spaceship is fairly hardy yes? Just dry out the ground and then use a few poppers to shatter the clay,” Tychon went on as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What is a popper?” Rene asked, still puzzled. Tychon reached into his pocket, possibly looking for cigarettes, realised that Vitger had taken everything of him before he tossed him into the container and abandoned the effort.

“Small explosives we use to break up coral,” Tychon explained.

“We have dozens on the boat, you can take them, it will be along time before we are ready to gather again.” Rene shook his head in bemused wonderment.

“Tychon I could kiss you,” Rene declared, elated to see a complex problem evaporate before his eyes.

“Your fiancee might misunderstand,” Tychon said with a chuckle.

“We still need to get the fuel to the ship,” Rene said feeling a little of the excitement drain out of him. He wasn’t at all sure they had enough fuel left to run the thrusters long enough.

“There are several hundred meters of hose here,” Tychon said, making an expansive gesture at the warehouse. They began to gather up coils of hose, stacking them in neat towers on the exposed decking. Once they reached a certain height Tychon secured them to lugs with tie downs.

“Can we leave tonight?” Rene asked as they finished the task. Now that the bounty was posted locals might be looking for strange ships and while Rene doubted that any surveillance system on Panopontus was up to spotting the Bonaventure from orbit, there was little sense in taking chances. To his disappointment Tychon shook his head.

“The currents are against it,” he explained, nodding towards the sea, or what Rene presumed was the sea as they were inside.

“You would have to spend hours fighting them and landing would be tricky, better to wait for tomorrow,” he counseled and then flashed a broad smile.

“Besides Julia and Damaris would have my head if I let you slip away without saying goodbye.”