Establishing the quarantine was no simple task. In some ways, it was the biggest challenge the Knights had faced since their arrival.

There was no small amount of grumbling from the camp when they pulled workers off other projects. There were still far too many refugees sleeping under the stars, and with the monsoon season rapidly approaching, the situation was growing tense. Blye did her best to placate the crowd, but when faced with an ever-growing mob who had literally lost everything, pleas for patience fell on deaf ears. They were thankfully still holding the line, but just barely. Although other races weren’t susceptible to the disease, there were some ugly incidents where innocent Q-Tam were attacked and driven away.

The Qi-Tam themselves were the biggest hurdle, as the medical staff attempted to trace the infection. Many refused to cooperate, hoping to avoid quarantine, only to learn the hard way that Blye was taking absolutely no chances. If she even suspected someone was evading her questions, or worse, lying about their contact with the infected, they quickly earned themselves a one-way trip to the quarantine site, escorted by armed Ixian guards. Others tried to hide, either losing themselves amongst the other Qi-Tam or taking refuge in the jungle. Every one of them had to be tracked down and forcibly removed, all of which took precious time.

And all the while, the disease spread.

The rising infection rate started bringing around some of the more resistant members of the group; faced with their own mortality, many started actively cooperating with Blye’s efforts. But some managed to slip through the cracks, as new infection hotspots inevitably appeared. The camp’s graveyard was receiving new tenants almost daily.

But after several days of laborious effort, they passed the crisis point. New infections began dropping off, the fatalities slowly leveled out, and after three whole days had passed with no fresh outbreaks, the trio breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The worst was behind them. Now they could focus on treating the sick, and ensuring it never happened again.

Wearily trudging back to the clinic, Blye plopped down into a chair and tried not to groan from the effort. They had worked an insane number of hours trying to prevent the crisis from spiraling out of control, and it had left all of them utterly exhausted from the effort. It was worth it though, as she took a moment to reflect. The number of lives they’d likely saved…

“... excuse me, Doctor Tagata?”

Her head jerked up with a start. Velsa was hovering nearby, a nervous expression on her face. “There’s a call for you. They say it’s quite urgent.”

She rubbed her eyes, then slowly rose to her feet. “Who’s calling?” she asked.

“A Captain Siyaayah,” the Ksot nurse informed her. Blye’s puzzled look must have been obvious, as she added, “He claims to command the ships in orbit.”

That took her by surprise. They’d had almost no interaction with the small squadron of Baishain vessels protecting the planet. The ships came and went on their own schedule, and since there had been no sign of the Yīqún, they’d had no reason to land. Occasionally they’d submit a report, but even that was desultory.

“Did he say what he wanted?” she asked, her confusion growing by leaps and bounds.

“Just that it was urgent, and that he needed to speak to the one in charge,” Velsa disclosed. “He wasn’t interested in discussing it with me.”

Shaking her head, she told the nurse, “Thank you, Velsa, I’ll talk to him.” She nodded in reply and went back to rounds, as Blye made her way to where the communication gear was located. A blinking light informed her there was a caller on standby as she pressed the “Accept” icon.

A feline head covered in thick gray fur appeared, the alien staring back at her with intensely bright yellow eyes. Triangular tufted ears twitched at the top of his skull as he addressed her. “Chevalier Deuxième Blye Tagata?” he inquired.

“Yes, that’s correct,” she agreed. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

“We’ve just received word from an inbound vessel,” he informed her. “They have several wounded on board, and are requesting medical assistance.”

“Yes… yes, of course,” she said immediately, shaking herself from her reveries. “Are you in contact with them now?”

“We are,” the Baishain captain confirmed.

“If you could give us an idea of what we’re dealing with… number and types of injuries, the species involved, estimated time of arrival... that would be a great help,” she explained.

“We will transmit your request,” he replied. He paused for a moment, as she realized there was something else on his mind. She wasn’t an expert on his species, but something about his posture and body language hinted at words unsaid.

“Is there a problem?” she asked him.

The captain went rigid before offering a curt nod. “I feel it is my duty to inform you that the Aggaaddub command the ship in question,” he told her, dropping a bombshell in her lap.

Her head rocked back in shock. “The Troika? Here?” she whispered.

“One branch of it, at least,” he agreed ominously. “Under normal circumstances, I would ask your instructions in dealing with their request, but given the situation…” He paused once more, gathering his thoughts. “Should you ask that I turn them away, I am afraid I must refuse,” he said curtly. “Their vessel could easily destroy the ships under my command, and we would be powerless to stop them. I have no more love for the Troika than I suspect you do, but I will not order my crews to their deaths fighting a hopeless battle.”

And there it was. He’d made his position brutally clear, not that she blamed him. A dozen warring emotions swirled about her as she wrestled with her decision, but in the end, there was only a single choice.

“The Knights Hospitaller offer refuge and medical aid to all who request it,” she said tautly, “... even the Troika. Allow their ship to enter orbit and do not impede their efforts in any way.”

The relief in his expression was almost palpable. “I shall pass on your message at once,” he informed her. “If there is any other service I may provide… within reason… do not hesitate to ask.”

“I'll keep your offer in mind,” she told him. “Tagata, clear.”

The Troika. Here.

Holy Mother Terra.

“... no way, no fucking way!” Amar shouted. “There’s no way in hell I’ll help those murdering bastards!”

Blye fought to keep her temper under control. She’d known from the start that news of the Aggaaddub’s imminent arrival would be unwelcome, but this was worse than she’d expected.

“I understand your anger…” she began, only to have her assistant jump to his feet.

“Do you?” he snarled. “You weren’t there, Blye. You didn’t watch your brothers and sisters getting cut down by those fucking lizards. They killed one of the best men I’ve ever known, just shot him like he was nothing, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to save him.” His entire body trembled with rage. “And you want to treat those slimy fucks? Well, you can do it without me.”

Gritting her teeth, Blye faced off with him. “You swore an oath,” she reminded him. “To aid all who ask, and defend them with your life. Are you now going back on that pledge?” She was trying to be patient with him, trying to remain calm and understand what he’d gone through on Sonoitii Prime, but his outburst was cutting to the very heart of what it meant to be a Knight.

“That oath said nothing about this,” he fired back. “You want me to treat them? Fine.” He yanked his sidearm free and held it up. “How about I treat them to an 11.7mm enema, right through the back of their fucking skulls?”

Prash moved to Blye’s side. “Put. That. Away,” he said darkly. Amar glared at him, then angrily shoved it back in its holster.

Taking a deep breath, Blye reached out and touched his arm. “You have to make a choice, Amar,” she told him. “Are you a Knight… or a Valkyrie?”

For a moment, it seemed as if he’d stand his ground. They could feel the rage coming off him, like the heat waves of a desert sun… and then he crumpled, his expression shattering like glass. Embarrassed, he turned away.

“... Tawfiq was my brother,” he whispered, his eyes now wet with pain. “He’d been through so much in his life, but he was always there for us. When the Aggaaddub gunned him down…” He sniffled, wiping his nose. “I tried to save him… oh God, I tried, but there was so much blood…” His shoulders convulsed as he sobbed in pain.

Blye and Prash were there beside him in a heartbeat, pulling him in close. “I know,” she said gently, “... I know.”

Their very presence gave him permission to grieve, to let out all the anguish and heartache he’d been keeping inside. They just held him, and let him weep in silence.

Finally, he wiped his sleeve across his face before turning to Blye. “Please don’t make me do this,” he begged her. “I’ll do anything else, but please, for the love of Terra… don’t ask me to do this.”

“Alright,” she said softly, “I’ll station you at the quarantine site. I doubt they’ll go anywhere near that place.”

“... thank you,” he whispered.

Prash’s head snapped up. “Oh, God,” he said in sudden horror. “The vault.”

The three Knights stared at one another in shock as the potential ramifications sank in. “We can’t let them learn of its existence,” Blye said with sudden resolve. “They’d descend on us like a meteor shower and destroy everything we’ve worked so hard for here. And the people…”

“I suppose it's too late to send them packing,” Prash said sarcastically.

“Captain Siyaayah up in orbit has already made his position on that point quite clear,” Blye informed them. “He’s not willing to risk his ships in a fight they will almost certainly lose. I don’t blame him for that.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Besides, the question is moot. Our oath still stands.”

“Then how the hell are we going to keep them from finding out the truth?” Amar asked her. “Because you’re right, if they find out there’s a Precursor artifact here, they’ll do the same thing they did at Sonoitii Prime, and we won’t be able to stop them. The refugees? They’re as good as dead.”

“Then we fall back on our cover story,” she said firmly. “We stress that it’s a quarantine site and that it’s off-limits for everyone’s protection.”

“We’ll need the Ixians to back us up on that,” Prash pointed out.

“They will,” the former Valkyrie said with conviction. “They hate the Troika as much as we do.”

“I’ll speak to Spata Zhai at once, and impress upon him the need for secrecy,” Blye agreed. “I’m certain he’ll do everything in his power to keep them in the dark.”

“That still leaves us with another problem,” Prash said uncomfortably. “There are over ten thousand individuals in this camp, from half a dozen different worlds. The vault isn’t a secret to them, and all it takes is a single collaborator sucking up to the Troika to turn this camp into a charnel house.”

“Jesus…” Amar swore in defeat. “Well, that’s it then. We’re done. There’s no way we can keep the whole fucking camp quiet.”

Blye thought furiously, struggling for an answer. “Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way,” she said after a moment.

“What do you mean?” Prash asked her.

“I mean, you’re correct that we can’t keep the entire camp away from them,” she explained, “so we don’t even try. Instead, we keep them away from the camp.”

“The lizards won’t listen to a damn thing we tell them,” Amar snorted. “They do what they want, when they want, and nobody interferes. Nobody.”

“They will if they believe it to be in their own best interest,” Blye reminded them. “All we have to do is convince them of that.”

“How?” Prash demanded.

Blye managed a sly smile. “I would have thought the answer was obvious. We put them under quarantine.”

“On what medical grounds?” Prash insisted, not letting up. “What are the odds they’re coming here with some infectious contagion?”

“The odds are slim, I admit,” she agreed, “which leaves us with a single card to play. The same one we used on the Taisen Jit.” Blye looked at them both expectantly, awaiting their reaction.

She didn’t have to wait long, as Amar’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You want to deliberately infect the Aggaaddub?” he goggled. “Why don’t we just shoot ourselves in the head now and save them the trouble?”

“It’s risky, I know, but what other choices do we have? We can’t turn them away, we can’t let them find out about the vault, and we can’t keep that big a secret forever. If either of you has a better idea, I’m all ears, but from where I’m sitting? This is our best shot.”

Prash took a deep breath. “Blye, you know I’m on your side, but this is crazy. If they get wind of it…”

“I know how it sounds,” she said, interrupting him, “but I swear, it’s not as bizarre as you might think. Just… take a moment and look at it from their perspective.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” Amar replied, shaking his head.

“Think about it; for millennia, the Troika have been the absolute masters of the Perseus Arm. They’ve stood head and shoulders above everyone else, treating the other races with utter disdain and contempt. How do you think they see us… anyone who’s not them, I mean.”

Prash shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea. As serfs, maybe? Or maybe cattle would be a better comparison.”

Blye jabbed a finger in his direction. “Exactly. That they came here seeking help? That means they must be desperate.” A cold, cruel smile slowly appeared on her face, looking distinctly alien on her usual pleasant features. “The high and mighty Troika, forced to rub elbows with the dirty savages,” she mocked. “Is it any wonder then, when the filthy creatures' mere presence infected them with some horrible disease?” She crossed her arms, giving them both a smug look.

The two men stared at one another. “That… could actually work,” Amar said at last, dumbfounded.

“Let’s hope so,” she said fervently, “because if it doesn’t?”

“We’re dead.”