Two days after their arrival, the Knights lost their first patient.

She was an elderly Qi-Tam, suffering from Tseingkuo Fever. A treatable disease under normal conditions, but three weeks of starvation and contaminated water had savaged her already fragile immune system. The initial symptoms are subtle and easy to miss, and by the time they realized what they were dealing with, it was already too late. She slipped into a coma and died within hours of being diagnosed.

Blye sat vigil in their makeshift field hospital, though there was nothing she could do. If they had just caught it sooner, if they hadn’t been overwhelmed with so many in need, if they weren’t so shorthanded…

She tried to rationalize what happened. That they would lose people was inevitable. All they could do was strive to minimize the butcher’s bill. This wasn’t the first patient she’d lost, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the professional detachment necessary for times like these was nowhere to be found. She’d always felt too much, gotten too close, and it had cost her dearly over the years. Blye knew what she was risking, yet here she was once again holding a dying evacuee’s hand, despite the danger to her own mental health.

The Qi-Tam’s breath grew ragged and labored, as she fought to the last. Taking the alien’s fine-boned hand in hers, Blye tried giving her some small measure of comfort, even as the end drew near. She was panting now, her body lacking the strength to draw in a full breath, and the Knight watched as her chest fell for the last time. She checked for a pulse and found none, before glancing at her chronometer and making a final notation.

“Time of Death, 0241 hours,” she said softly, before wrapping up the tiny alien’s grey body with a sheet for burial. She’d have to check with the other Qi-Tam in camp and see if there were any specific funeral requirements to be observed. The old woman had died alone, without family, and with the Yīqún terrorizing the galaxy, it was unlikely anyone would claim the body. In a few years, her grave would be overgrown and forgotten.

Almost as if she’d never existed at all.

The sound of footsteps pulled her attention away from the deceased alien. Prash ducked his head as he entered the clinic, grimacing as he spotted the shrouded corpse. Looking back at Blye, he asked, “Are you all right?”

“We all knew this was coming,” she shrugged. “I’m fine.”

The young Cinquième didn’t look convinced, but he put that on hold before switching topics. “We just got a message. Our Yait’xaik workforce just entered the system, and they should arrive on-site in the morning.” He managed a brief smile. “Figured you could use some good news right about now.”

“Thank Mother Terra,” she sighed in relief. There was simply too much work to be done in the camp, and though some refugees pitched in where they could, most were too starved or ill to offer much help. The three Knights had been running themselves ragged, trying to hold things together, and any assistance at this point was a literal godsend. “Do we know how many are on board?”

“About twenty, according to the message,” he answered. “Not as many as we’d hoped, but at least it’s a start.”

Blye tried keeping the disappointment from her face, and mostly succeeded. “We'll make do,” she said for the umpteenth time. “Somehow.”

“Figured we’d get them started digging latrines and putting up shelters,” Prash suggested. “With any luck, we’ll have everyone out of the elements in a couple weeks.”

Her head jerked up as a sudden thought struck her. “That reminds me, have we received climatological data for the region? With a jungle just a stone’s throw away, I’m guessing we don’t have to worry about blizzards, but what about drought? We need to be prepared.”

Prash shook his head. “Haven’t seen any… in fact, we haven’t heard much of anything from the local government since we arrived.”

“I’ll add it to the list, next time we chat,” she said sourly. “At least that might be something they’ll actually follow through on.”

“They still stonewalling you?” he surmised.

“They’d have to speak to me first,” she snorted. “It’s clear the powers that be told their assistants to keep us at arm's length. They haven’t even acknowledged the water situation, let alone looked into alternate sites. The purifier is just barely keeping up with demand, but when they bring in more displaced individuals for us to look after…” Blye wearily shook her head. “I don't know what we’re going to do.”

“That’s not even considering what happens if it breaks down,” he agreed. “I wish Maggie were here. She’d cobble something together that would spit out enough fresh water to start a resort.”

The pair shared a brief chuckle before growing serious once more. “I doubt Freya will stop by anytime soon,” she said sadly, rising to her feet. “In the meantime, I need to check in with the other Qi-Tam, and ask them about last rites.”

Blye spared the body one final look, before exiting the structure.

The shuttle with their Yait’xaik relief workers landed a few hours later. It was an inauspicious occasion.

The crew herded the volunteers out of the ship like cattle, only to slam the hatch shut behind them. The sound of the engines firing was all the incentive they needed to get to a safe distance before the small craft lifted for space, leaving Blye and the others scratching their heads.

“That was rude,” Amar observed.

“Forget it,” Blye told him, before turning to the new arrivals. “Welcome,” she smiled, “we’re glad to have you here. My name is Blye Tagata, and these two gentlemen are Prashant Dibra and Amar Svoboda. On behalf of the Knights Hospitaller, it’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

The yellowish amphibians blinked at one another, milling about in confusion before one of the group stepped forward. “... where are we?” they asked.

“Taing’zem,” Blye answered, a bewildered expression on her face. “Where did you think you were?”

“We were not told,” they replied. “They ordered us aboard the ship, locked us in a compartment, then dumped us here. No one has explained why.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait a minute… your government promised us relief workers to help get this camp running. They never told you about that?” she said incredulously.

“They said nothing,” their representative echoed, a trace of anger now coloring its words. The others muttered in agreement.

“I don’t believe this…” Prash groaned, while Amar stepped forward.

“So where exactly did they find you?” he asked them. “Don’t tell me they just grabbed you all off the street.”

The grumbling came to a sudden halt, as the group looked en masse at their spokesperson, who was now staring at their feet. They mumbled something in reply, low enough that the Terrans stared back, perplexed.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Blye asked.

“... Uddaz Prefecture Correctional Facility,” the alien repeated, louder this time. “They promised us time off our sentences.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Amar swore, his hand gripping his quarterstaff tight. “They sent us convicted felons.”

“No!” one of the other amphibians blurted. “We are not unredeemable outlaws! Our crimes were trivial!”

“Well, that’s just peachy,” Blye said sarcastically. “And what, pray tell, did you do to get sent up the river?”

The Yait’xaik sighed unhappily. “Tax evasion,” they admitted.

“Oh goody, white-collar criminals,” Prash groaned. “Cause that’s so much better.”

Blye just wanted to scream in frustration, but it only took a moment to recognize that would help no one. She took a moment to get herself centered, before motioning to the other Knights to let her handle it.

“All right, obviously this isn’t an ideal situation,” she said evenly, “but we’re all here now, and it looks like we’re stuck with one another for the duration. I need individuals willing to help these people. We have latrines to dig, and shelters to build, and plenty of other tasks that need attending to. So how about we come to an arrangement? I don’t care about what you did before, as far as I’m concerned, you all start off with a clean slate. I only care about what happens here. You give me an honest day’s work, treat the refugees decently and with respect, and in return, I promise to treat you fairly, and put in a good word with your government when this is all over. Do we have a deal?”

One of the others shouldered their way to the front of the group. “And if we refuse?” they demanded.

Spinning on the ball of her foot, Blye whipped down her staff and upended the Yait’xaik, dumping them onto their back. Before they could react, she reversed the pole and rammed the butt end into their gut, before spinning it once more and driving their head into the dirt. The alien froze, staring up at her in terror.

“Then I will be very upset,” she said calmly. “Any other questions?” She glanced back up at the group, who were now all backing away and frantically shaking their heads. “Excellent,” she smiled, easing off on her staff and extending her hand to the fallen worker. They eyed it warily, before finally taking the proffered extremity, groaning as she pulled them to their feet.

“We wish no trouble,” the spokesperson said in a rush. “You will have no problems with us.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she nodded. “We’ll get you all something to eat, and then I’m putting you to work. If you have questions, come to one of us,” she said, indicating her and the other Knights. “Prash, if you could get them started?”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded. “Follow me,” he told the group, before leading them down to the camp.

Sighing, Blye leaned on her staff and shook her head. “You still have that pistol?” she asked Amar.

“... cause something tells me we’re going to need it.”

The work party got off to a slow start, since only a couple of the Yait’xaik had any practical experience. Luckily, digging holes isn’t exactly a complicated task, while the prefab shelters were designed to be assembled with only a few tools and little to no training. By the end of the day, the crew was finding their rhythm.

That night, they buried the elderly Qi-Tam, who had died the night before. The other members of her species all attended, though none claimed to have known her well. Blye said a few generic words before they lowered her into the grave. They marked the site with a stake, a simple placard with her name and date of death bolted on for future reference. The Knights collapsed into their bedrolls, utterly exhausted.

The next day saw another death, an infant this time, one of the insectoid Durzix. The egg had hatched prematurely, most likely due to the stress of being moved during the evacuation. Underdeveloped and malnourished, the hatchling failed to thrive, dying in its mother’s arms. Another grave, another funeral, another notation in the log. The old and the young suffered most during perilous times, a grim fact Blye was forced to acknowledge while vowing to put the deaths behind her and soldier on.

Another three days, heralded by some good news for a change. Their defense forces had arrived, the Baishain with half a dozen corvettes moving into orbit to provide cover and early warning, while the Ixian contingent landed dirtside with a short company for policing and security. The Knights waited to meet their shuttle as it landed just outside camp, along with representatives from the species housed within the camp itself. Upon its arrival, the blue-skinned aliens marched out of the open hatches in two columns, forming a square as the senior officer took his place before the detachment.

“They look impressive,” Prash nodded in approval.

“Trust me… they are,” Amar agreed. “Fought beside them and against them on Sonoitii Prime. Liked it a lot better when they were on our side.”

“Let’s go say hello to our new arrivals, shall we?” Blye suggested as the group moved to greet them.

As they drew near, the commander snapped to attention, slamming his sword against his chest. “Yuutsah’Zhoz!” he shouted.

“Yuutsah’Zhoz!” the company thundered in reply, as dozens of swords crashed against armor in unison.

Blye and the others halted in their tracks, surprised, except for Amar, by the Ixian’s war cry. Once she recognized it for what it was, she moved forward once more, coming to a halt scant meters away from their formation, with her retinue still in tow.

“Greetings,” she said warmly. “I am Blye Tagata, Chevalier Deuxième of the Knights Hospitaller clan, and I bid you welcome to Taing’zem.”

The alien sheathed his sword, stepping forward as well. “I am Spata Juzheing Zhai, commanding this cohort. As one warrior to another, it honors us to serve.”

“I like to think we’re healers first, and warriors second,” she observed, “but your presence honors us as well.”

The Spata gazed down at the traditional long sword belted at her waist and smiled. “Perhaps you will do me the honor of testing our blades,” he suggested. “For prestige, not blood,” he clarified.

“I’d like that,” Blye grinned, “the first moment I have free. Which, the way things are going, won’t be anytime soon I’m afraid.”

The Ixian nodded somberly. “These are indeed dangerous times,” he agreed, “and much is asked of all of us.” Drawing himself up to his full height, his bearing grew stiff and formal once more. “As commander of this encampment, what are your orders?”

And there it was. She’d heard from Amar the Ixians were all about honor and duty. Nice to see it confirmed. “My orders are simple,” she answered. “Keep the peace within the camp, and protect it from dangers without… hopefully, barring the loss of life. These people have been through enough.” The surrounding representatives signaled their full agreement.

His expression was grave as he raised his sword once more. “It shall be done,” he vowed, before turning on his heel and addressing the gathered warriors in their own tongue... to pass on her orders, she presumed. As he finished, the throng shouted, “Yuutsah’Zhoz!” once more. It seemed to be a phrase of acknowledgment, as far as she could tell. She’d have to ask the Spata about it at some point.

“Come,” she beckoned, “let’s get your cohort settled in, and we’ll show you around. It may not look like much at the moment, but one day... this place will be something to be proud of,” she said fervently, as she led them down to the camp.