It is my duty to save life and to aid the injured. I will be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties quickly and efficiently, placing these duties before personal desires and comforts.

These things we do, that others may live. - Motto of the US Air Force Pararescue “PJ’s”

Chevalier Deuxième Blye Tagata entered the compartment and spotted the rest of her team. “Prash, Amar, follow me. The Grand Master wants to see us.”

The Knights looked up from the pile of equipment they were inventorying. “A mission?” Prashant Dibra asked.

“Considering everything that’s happening, I’d say it’s likely,” she agreed, before turning to the newest addition to her team. “Are you ready for this?” she asked Chevalier Quatrième Amar Svoboda.

“It can’t be worse than Sonoitii Prime,” the former Valkyrie shrugged, the pair following her into the corridor.

Blye said nothing, keeping her own counsel. There wasn’t a Terran in Alliance space that didn’t know about that battle. Amar didn’t talk about it much, but what little he had told them hinted at it being a bloodbath. He’d transferred over to the Knights soon after, the cohort of an old friend, and once she observed his skills firsthand, she’d immediately snatched him up for her team.

She hoped he was right, but given the mounting reports of the Yīqún invasion, Blye was concerned, though if she were being completely honest with herself, she’d been even more worried they’d end up falling between the cracks while the rest of the clan mobilized. As it stood, the Knight’s Hospitaller were facing the greatest humanitarian crisis in almost two hundred years.

The trio made their way through the cramped passageways of the Knight’s flagship, the KHCS Malta. The ship was buzzing with activity, with medical staff and supplies being bustled about everywhere she looked. The machine race’s attack had caught the entire Perseus Arm by surprise, and now people were scrambling to salvage what they could. The situation was grim, and getting worse.

Several minutes later, they arrived at the conference room. Blye buzzed for admittance, the hatch dutifully sliding open a few moments later. Stepping inside, she spotted Grand Master Osman Makar conferring with the senior staff. He’d eschewed his formal robes for a simple tunic and slacks, looking up as they entered the compartment.

“Blye,” he nodded, pointing to a handful of unoccupied seats, “I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got a lot to cover, and not much time.”

“Yes, Sir,” she answered, as she and the others sat down. Pulling out her tablet, she passed it over to Prash to take notes while their clan leader finished up with the others.

“Get our people moving,” he ordered the staff, the small group bowing in acknowledgment before filing out of the compartment. The Grand Master slumped into a chair, taking a moment to compose himself, before turning to Blye and her team.

“The Yīqún are hitting systems throughout the sector,” he informed her, “and the Alliance is struggling to come up with a strategy to stop them. Unfortunately, we had no warning of their reemergence, and their blitzkrieg assault has left us all reeling. We’re still reacting, gathering our forces, and that isn’t likely to change anytime soon.”

“Yes, Sir,” Blye repeated. “What do you need from us?”

The clan leader sighed. “I’d hoped to keep you out of harm’s way,” he told her, “given your involvement with…” He paused, glancing at Chevalier Quatrième Svoboda. “Have you briefed him regarding the Gyrfalcon mission?”

“We’ve brought Amar up to speed,” she confirmed, though she sidestepped mentioning it hadn’t actually been her doing. When he arrived on Malta, the former medic explained that his team leader, then Corporal, now Sergeant Rúna Aukes, had told him about their mission to Earth. It was yet another reason she’d drafted him for her team.

The Grand Master nodded once more. “Well, that simplifies matters,” he acknowledged. “I won’t lie, I don’t like the idea of putting you in the field, Deuxième, not with the knowledge you carry regarding that mission. I simply don’t have any other choice. This is an ‘All hands’ situation, and the Alliance desperately needs every trained Knight we can spare.”

“We’re eager to assist, Sir,” she informed him, speaking for the others. After the mission to Earth ended, she’d returned to Malta, briefing the Grand Master and his senior staff on everything they’d learned. As a reward, they’d placed her in accelerated training, earning her Deuxième rating several months later. Since then, she’d languished aboard ship, repeatedly requesting a new assignment, only for her application to be denied each time. She’d wondered for some time now why she was being held back, but at least now her suspicions were confirmed.

“I know,” he smiled, but it was a haggard expression. He pulled up a display on the screen, a star map of the local quadrant. “Alliance forces are consolidating at these key locations,” he explained, pointing to a handful of systems marked in red. “They are all systems the Yīqún haven’t hit yet, population centers and military facilities that we must protect. Unfortunately, for every system they’ve spared, plenty of others haven’t been so fortunate. I’m certain it’s no surprise that casualties among the Alliance and non-aligned worlds have been... catastrophic.”

“I’d feared as much, Sir,” she said quietly, before mentally shifting gears. “Sir, what about the Eleexx weapon, the one that defeated the Yīqún two centuries ago? Why haven’t they used it?”

Osman Makar’s shoulders sagged, his features looking even more drawn than when they’d entered. “The Eleexx deployed their disruptor weapon within days of the first attack, Blye. It failed. It seems the Yīqún are now immune to its effects.”

Her jaw dropped. “Holy Mother Terra,” she whispered. This was bad, far worse than she’d first envisioned.

“We have intel passed on to us by the Avatars,” he continued. “It appears the Eleexx were experimenting with Yīqún software, incorporating it into their security systems. They thought they’d contained it, but…” He shook his head sadly.

“Son of a bitch,” she said in shock. “And it got loose?”

“Actually, it would appear it had help,” he explained. “A group of rogue Chell got their hands on a copy, before unleashing it on the galaxy.” He grimaced at the admission, his expression filled with anger and disgust. “This was a terrorist attack, Blye, on the entire Perseus Arm.”

“The Chell?” she said in shock. “But they’re… brainwashed slaves,” she stammered. “How in the hell did they even manage to…”

“According to the Avatars, some of the Chell are resistant to the Tu’udh’hizh’ak’s indoctrination,” the Grand Master informed her. “Since the attack, however, they’ve been ruthlessly purging any trace of their organization. At least it’s spared us from any further surprises,” he said gloomily.

“The one is bad enough, Sir.” Her mind was still reeling at the revelation.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” he replied. “This is by far the worst crisis our clan has ever faced. Which brings me to your mission.” Blye and the others sat up straight as Osman Makar highlighted another world in blue. “Taing’zem. It belongs to the Tsengju, one of their mining colonies, and they’ve granted us access. The Alliance has designated it as a refugee and relocation site, which is where we come in.”

Blye searched her memory. “The Tsengju… avian species, yes?” she asked.

“That’s correct,” the Grand Master agreed. “It’s centrally located, has adequate port facilities because of their mining operations, but far enough off the beaten path that hopefully it won’t draw the Yīqún’s attention.” He turned and faced the trio. “We want you to set up a field hospital and begin humanitarian operations as quickly as possible.”

Glancing at the rest of her team, Blye recognized just how big a job they were facing. “Where do we stand on staffing, Sir?” she asked, as she started running through her mental checklist.

Osman Makar grimaced yet again. “At the moment, your team is all we can spare,” he told her.

Her jaw dropped. “Sir… three of us, to set up field operations for a brand-new refugee center? That’s nowhere near enough personnel. We’ll likely be dealing with thousands of displaced individuals. We’ll need food, medical supplies, housing, sanitation…” she began, listing the basic requirements for the task at hand. It was an impossible mission, and they both knew it.

“The clan is stretched thin, Blye,” he said wearily. “We’re setting up dozens of sites, all across the Perseus Arm. That’s not counting the requests we’re getting for trained medical staff to aid the various Alliance military forces currently fighting the Yīqún. We simply don’t have enough trained bodies to go around.” He sighed, shaking his head. “However, we’ve received firm commitments from our partners to assist our efforts. The Ixians have promised us a security force, the Bamidh will direct as many supplies as they can spare to your location, the Yait’xaik have earmarked a sizeable workforce to aid in your efforts, and the Baishain have freed up a small naval detachment to help defend the planet. Plus, whatever bodies the local Tsengju government can make available for us, of course. We’re still working on garnering further pledges of support from the other Alliance members, but at least it’s a start.”

That so many other races had made personnel available softened the blow somewhat, but they were still facing a herculean task. “How many refugees can we expect?” she asked, steeling herself for the worst.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I suspect any estimates I make will be drastically low. Anywhere from thousands, to millions.”

“Millions?” Blye gasped. “Sir, you can’t expect us to…”

“Of course not,” he interrupted, “I’m not insisting that you perform miracles. We’re working on a network to guide individuals escaping the Yīqún to the nearest center able to absorb their numbers. We’ll try to even the load, but it’s going to take time to get the system up and running. And even when it is operational… Blye, we’re talking about people running for their lives. Terrified beings rarely make rational decisions. They’ll go where they think they’ll be secure, whether or not we have a safety net in place. If you’re overwhelmed…”

He closed his eyes, reliving some dark personal moment. “If that happens… salvage what you can,” he finished.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

The Grand Master rose to his feet. “A Bamidh freighter will dock with Malta sometime tomorrow,” he said, “to take on supplies. They’ll transport you and your team to Taing’zem.” His eyes locked on to hers. “There're many individuals counting on us, Blye,” he stressed, “almost the entire Perseus Arm. They need our help, and we are going to do everything in our power to see that they get it.”

“Yes, Sir,” she answered, more firmly this time. “We won’t let them down.”

“I know you won’t,” he nodded. “One last thing… you’ll be dealing with several species and individuals, each with their own agenda. That may be the most difficult hurdle you’ll have to face. But the Alliance has agreed to place our clan in charge of the resettlement efforts, which makes you the senior official representative of not only the Knights, but the Alliance as well. That camp is your kingdom. Don’t let them push you aside, but by the same token, recognize the limits of your authority. You’ll likely need the negotiating skills of a Tinker, not the sword arm of a Knight, in order to make this work.”

“I understand, Sir,” she nodded.

“Then may Holy Mother Terra guide your efforts,” he smiled, extending his hand.

Blye reached out and took it, and then gestured to the rest of her team. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us,” she said as they rose from their seats and headed for the exit, passing another team that was just entering the compartment. She gave them a polite nod, sparing a moment to wonder where that group would end up being sent. Other side of the galaxy, most likely.

When they finally returned to their quarters, Blye immediately got down to business. “All right, I need your thoughts, gentlemen. What’s your impression of our mission?”

“Setting up a refugee site from scratch? With that kind of capacity?” Prashant shook his head. “It won’t be easy.”

“Understatement of the century,” Blye agreed. “Nevertheless, those are our orders.”

“One thing stood out to me,” Amar informed her. “He said the Ixians were providing security. That’s lucky for us. I fought with them on Sonoitii… well, after they switched sides,” he shrugged. “Thing is, they’re excellent fighters, and you can trust them. If we can’t get Valkyries, they’d be my next choice.”

“That’s good to know,” Blye said in approval. “In fact, I’d like you to be our liaison with their outfit. Once we meet up with them, find out how we can help one another.”

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed, “I’m on it.”

“Just remember that we’re not fighting this war,” she cautioned. “Our mission is to keep the refugees safe. Unless we come under attack, we need them to be peacekeepers, not warriors.”

The medic gave out a low whistle. “That might be tricky, ma’am. The Ixi are the closest thing to samurai I’ve ever come across. Honor’s important to them, but they don’t carry those swords just for show.”

“Neither do we,” Blye said evenly. “Make sure they understand their role in all of this.”

“I’ll try, ma’am,” he nodded.

“In the meantime,” she continued, turning her attention to Prash, “I want you to oversee the Bamidh when they’re handling our cargo. They have a decent reputation, so I doubt we’ll run into any difficulties… but you and I both know what it’s like to be at the mercy of an alien ship and crew.”

The young Cinquième scowled. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll make sure they don’t pull anything funny,” he vowed. “But yeah, at least they’re not To’uuk.”

The former Valkyrie blinked in surprise. “You traveled on a bug ship? Why?”

“They didn’t give us a choice,” Blye sighed. “Before it was over, they’d killed a fellow Knight and stolen our supplies.”

“Fuckin’ bugs,” Amar snarled. “I hate those assholes.”

“Hopefully we won’t be forced to traffic with them,” Blye said, changing the subject. “While you both are dealing with your charges, I’ll be focusing on the Tsengju. If they’re offering their planet for resettlement, you can bet there are strings attached. There always are.” She sighed and pulled out her tablet. “In the meantime, make sure our medical files are up to date. Given the situation, we could end up treating almost any species, and this is a time where we don’t dare make mistakes. Questions?”

Both men shook their heads. “Then let’s get started… and pray Holy Mother Terra is looking out for us.”