Up until they had been enclosed in the sphere that offered them so much protection, Bel'sian had been coping remarkably well with the circumstances. Kalderi did not enjoy closed spaces. Their architecture reflected the inherent, arguably evolutionary preference for open areas, to the point they did not have fully solid portals in and out of building structures. For a species that was capable of flight it was a completely understandable preference. The cavern in which the trio had been trapped had started to make the alien somewhat claustrophobic, yet it was the even smaller confines of the raft, and its curved bottom that pressed the three together, that truly made panic rise in her throat. Before she had been able to close her eyes, stretch her legs, and utilize calming techniques to retain a sense of inner peace. Now that she was more cramped, it was impossible to ignore their predicament, or the fact the limbs attached to her back were unable to stretch comfortably. Never would she have guessed that been buried alive could have been preferable to anything else.

"Rene, can you put Bouradine on the communicator?" Rosaria asked in an even tone once she noticed the very obvious signs of Bel'sian beginning to lose her nerve. She didn't pretend to really know much about adult relationships, much less understand them, but she had witnessed the way that Solae and Rene interacted with each other. They seemed to know how to reassure each other better than she ever could, how to communicate better, how to relate to one another on a more intimate level. Since it was clear that Bouradine and Bel'sian were also a couple- something she was still trying to wrap her mind around- then it stood to reason that the most effective way to keep the winged woman from going postal was to have her lover talking her through this bizarre experience.

"What?" she heard the older male grunt, not unkindly, but because it was such an unexpected request and because he was busy, toiling under miserable conditions, and undoubtedly taxing his endurance with the labor necessary to enact his plan.

"I think Bel'sian [i]really[/i] needs to talk to Bouradine," she repeated with emphasis in hopes she could diplomatically convey the mini crisis that was unfolding. There was a long pause, which she would later find out was Yarue volunteering his communicator, going to the ship to attach it to Bouradine, and returning back to his post. The delay was frustrating for all, but the strained tone in Rosaria's voice, as well as the fact she hadn't really made any other demands, ultimately made them yield.

The Syshin's stamina was not to be underestimated. Though the Stellar Empire's culture was unequivocally reprehensible subjugating them, it was cruelly accurate in its evaluation of their strengths, particularly their strength. Despite the enhancements that the nobility had, they could not measure against the physiology of the benevolent humanoids, who were mere generations from an existence where they had to rely on physical prowess to survive in a harsh world. Philosophers argued that the enslavement was partially due to the fact that humanity felt threatened by the Syshin's raw superiority in certain aspects (height, mass, musculature, and speed namely). To ensure they remained on top they had to dominate, using their technological advantage to maintain their status as the great, 'unrivaled' galactic force. Anyone who could divorce themselves from the wanton discrimination, however, could gleam their untapped potential. They were not as trained as the marines Rene could have had under his command, but in crucial moments where perseverance and literal might were imperative, they were perhaps [i]better.[/i]

"All artists take their inspiration from the world around them, but it isn't all landscapes my love," Bouradine was telling Bel'sian over the open channel in a soothing voice. Everyone outside the veritable pit had seen he was beside himself with worry, but he managed to keep the fear out of his spoken words, focusing instead on giving his partner a focus and distraction.

"I don't know what you mean," Bel'sian replied in a more feeble tremor.

"They express themselves with color and shapes to convey a feeling," he explained. "I know right now you might feel terrible, but you can concentrate on what you are going through, the sensations, the emotions, and in a few minutes when you are free again you can put it on a blank canvas. You can make something beautiful from something that right now is awful. Artists say it heals their soul when they explore their memories with art."

"The canvases and the paints are..." Bel'sian murmured. She was softer now as the edge of hysteria left her tone, neither tranquil nor about to have an anxiety attack, somewhere in-between.

"Much more easily replaced than you, my love," Bouradine answered.

They had a light conversation back and forth, Rosaria leaning back in the bubble. She and Belsian were facing opposite directions with Solae between them, on their laps, to help keep her stable. The teenager kept her hand on the duchess's for tactile affirmation she had not grown cool to the touch and that her pulse could still be felt. Occasionally she, Rene, or Mia would provide an update on their ascent, but there was little to do but wait inside the flotation device. As immobile debris, rocks and small chunk of building, obstructed the path, the sludge had to be watered for several minutes until the pressure could build high enough to make the orb push through. More than once the three males on the hill of mud had to retreat a few steps to secure their footing, regroup, and restart their operation.

Approximately thirty-two minutes after they began they reached an impasse. A jut of thick rock that was connected to the remnants of the structure's floor prevented the pod from hitting the top of the foamy cavity. Cutting it with a tool would not help since anything sharp or hot enough to cut through the thick stone would also blast through the barrier of the escape capsule itself as well. They reversed the function of the hose and sucked the grime off the top of the container, until they could see the hull that needed to be breached, and Yarue and Dasin lowered Dasin so that he could stand on its surface. It was firmly enough wedged that it barely rocked when his feet hit the slippery outer shell. Bouradine came running with a portable stretcher from the [i]Bonaventure[/i] since Mia had all but commanded him to keep her mistress from moving more than was absolutely necessary until she could be assessed.