So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from Hell

Blue skies from pain

Can you tell a green field

From a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade

Your heroes for ghosts?

Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?

Did you exchange

A walk on part in the war

For a lead role in a cage?

Pink Floyd - “Wish You Were Here”

Nassat knelt on the ground, his head bowed, in front of the mound of soil, his eyes closed as he murmured, while the others stood a respectful distance apart. They also bowed their heads as they kept vigil alongside the Saurotaur, as many of them echoed his benediction in their own words, each saying farewell to Sergeant Major Jehiel Lin.

Jiyazh remained silent, following the lead of the others, though he found the ritual to be a strange one. For the Khonhim, the death of a warrior who fell in battle was an occasion to be celebrated, not mourned. They would share many tales of their life, as friends and family came together to honor him, and while perhaps the rites were bittersweet, they were never sorrowful.

Nassat lifted his head and opened his eyes but showed no interest in moving. He stared at the simple marker they had erected, lost in his own thoughts, as the others glanced at one another, each unwilling to intrude on his grief.

Perhaps it was unsurprising that Jiyazh was the one who approached him, kneeling at his side, as they contemplated Sergeant Lin’s final resting place together.

“...the first time I met him, he terrified me,” Nassat murmured, as Jiyazh regarded him. “I had never known a human before, and as he screamed at us, I remember fearing for my life.” A brief chuckle escaped his lips, though he quickly suppressed it. “It all seemed so easy for him. So natural. As he trained us to fight, I knew I could never match his skills in battle.”

“Speaking as one who has fought both against and alongside you, I would disagree,” Jiyazh said after a moment.

Nassat shrugged off his words. “I was lucky. Nothing else.” A distant look came to his eyes, as he gazed at something only he could see. “On Uzaunx, when your forces bombarded us, he and I were the only survivors of our company. What we went through together…”

His voice trailed off, shaking his head as he tried to banish the ghosts. “I made him a promise that day. That when his time came...I would recite for him the Prayer for the Dead.” Nassat sighed, as he turned to face Jiyazh at last. “He was more to me than an advisor. He became my mentor...and my friend.” Nassat closed his eyes, and whispered, “And I shall miss him.”

Jiyazh turned to gaze at the mound of dirt. “...if he were here now, what advice would he give you?” he asked.

Nassat took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Do what you have to do,” he said, as he rose to his feet at last, taking up Lin’s battered rifle.

Scanning the ruined amphitheater, Jiyazh could only nod. “Words of wisdom indeed.”

Before he could respond, Nassat spotted Musashi and Graybird approaching. “Sir...you need to see this,” Musashi said without preamble, before glancing at Jiyazh. “You too.”

The Khonhim and the Saurotaur shared a look, falling in behind the humans as Graybird led them to his improvised commo bunker. They could see the face of Azhum Ganakh on the display, stained with soot and dried blood.

“Dhyaksh, we have little time,” he said in a rush. “Chugaz Uydan’s dishonorable actions have split the fleet in two. Many have turned against him, but he still commands most of the fleet. We waged a bitter battle but could not prevent his escape.”

“...he escaped again?” Musashi said in disbelief.

“Yes,” Azhum nodded. “Most of the fleet still stands with him. The rest have sworn themselves to your banner, Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz,” he said with a respectful bow.

Jiyazh nodded. “Where have they gone?” he asked.

Azhum paused for a moment, glancing at the others surrounding him, before responding. “He has set a direct course to the Triumvirate worlds.”

Nassat gritted his teeth. “We must stop him,” he said.

Azhum regarded the Saurotaur. “You ask much. Even those of us who have turned our backs to Chugaz Uydan have little love for your kind. Many of us hope he succeeds.”

“If Chugaz Uydan attacks, it will mean the end of our race,” Jiyazh predicted, his expression troubled. “Not today, nor tomorrow, but it will come to pass. Their nation is vast, and as he wages his war the humans will rearm themselves as quickly as possible, with whatever they can. He wounded them, but the wound was not a mortal one...and there is no more dangerous an opponent than one bent on vengeance.”

The Khonhim rebel looked as if he had bit into a lemon, but he did not refute his words. “What would you ask of us, Dhyaksh?”

Jiyazh took a deep breath. “We must bring an end to Chugaz Uydan’s reign...and to do so, we will require allies.” He regarded the others nearby with a wry expression. “Even if they were once our enemies.”

Azhum hissed through his teeth, before lowering his eyes. “It will not be easy, Dhyaksh...but those of us sworn to you will obey.”

“Send your shuttles to us,” Jiyazh commanded. “Once aboard we will set our course and pursue Chugaz Uydan...to the end of the galaxy if need be.”

“We will launch immediately,” Azhum vowed.

“Excellent,” he said with a thin smile, “for we have much to discuss.”

“We will be ready,” he assured him, before disappearing from the screen.

Space was at a premium aboard the Khonhim ship Dauntless, as they struggled to accommodate the new arrivals. The vessel bore many scars from its battle with Chugaz Uydan’s loyalists, but as Jiyazh scanned her with a practiced eye, he pronounced her fit and ready to serve. If only all his problems were as simple.

The Khonhim eyed their new Tetrarchy “Allies” with suspicion, a sentiment returned in full measure. Jiyazh and Nassat stood side by side as they struggled to contain the more dangerous elements from both camps, but each knew an uphill battle awaited them.

“Have you pinpointed Chugaz Uydan’s target among the Triumvirate worlds?” Jiyazh asked.

Azhum shook his head. “The distance is too great,” he admitted. “We could only determine the general direction.”

“Even if you had, there’s no reason he couldn’t change course at the last minute,” Musashi pointed out.

“We must contact the Tetrarchy, and warn them,” Nassat said.

“Without a specific target, a general warning could prove far more dangerous in the long run,” Jiyazh said. “We need more data.”

“At this range, more data will be difficult to come by,” Azhum replied. “We are already at the limitations of our equipment.”

“Then we must provide them with our best guess...and pray we are correct,” Nassat said.

Jiyazh turned to look at the map. “There must be many of those supporting Chugaz Uydan that do so only from inertia,” he mused. “He will want victories as soon as possible to maintain their loyalty...as many as he can, as quickly as he can.”

“If he manages that, it will tempt many of your own supporters to join him,” Azhum admitted. “Victory is a powerful narcotic.”

Nassat rose to his feet and studying the map, before pointing at a section of the display. “Here,” he said with sudden confidence, “the Chennoor cluster. A dozen worlds near one another. He could launch strikes on many of them before anyone could respond.”

Musashi nodded. “It’s only conjecture at this point...but I agree. If I wanted to rack up as many victories as possible, that’s where I’d strike.”

“It is better than nothing,” Nassat replied. “Will there be any difficulties in contacting the Tetrarchy?”

“I somehow doubt they will listen to anything we have to say,” Azhum said.

“Not necessarily,” Graybird interjected. “With a few modifications, we should be able to spoof a Tetrarchy signal...enough to get our foot in the door, at least.”

“Even if such a thing were possible, our ships will not be enough to stop Chugaz Uydan, and he has a significant head start,” Azhum said. “If we warn the Tetrarchy...do they have anything left to prevent his assault?”

All eyes turned to Nassat. He returned their gaze for a moment, before bowing his head.

“...I don’t know,” he whispered.