“I realize this is none of my business, but… pregnant? Here? Do you honestly think that’s a good idea?”

Blye collapsed into a chair, still suffering from an adrenaline crash following their showdown with the Aggaaddub. Her muscles trembled and she felt weak as a kitten, while she simultaneously tried to keep from hyperventilating. She wearily shook her head at Prash’s question.

“It was a calculated risk,” she explained. “I’ve been expecting a confrontation with our Troika guests ever since their arrival, and unfortunately, we have few options at our disposal. I didn’t know if the concept of an unborn child would make any difference to them, but sadly, we have damn few cards to play. So, I played it.” She shrugged helplessly. “And it paid off… at least for the moment.”

Amar just stared at her, aghast. “You’re purposefully putting your unborn child in harm's way… literally on the battle lines. How can you justify the hazard to the baby?”

“Spare me,” she snapped, her eyes going dark. “Every day of a Terran’s life is dangerous, from before we’re born till the day we die. Our ships are death traps, we barely manage to stay one step ahead of starvation, and we’re under constant threat of attack. If we were to wait until it was safe to have kids, we’d have died out two centuries ago.” She glared at him, daring him to disagree.

“Blye, this is different,” Prash said reproachfully, “you know it is. You’re deliberately using your own child as a bargaining chip. This isn’t like you. You’ve always been the most empathetic, most compassionate person I’ve ever known, but this?” His hands went to the sides of his face as he struggled to make sense of it. “I’ve seen you angry. I’ve seen you frightened. I’ve even seen you ready to lay down your life… but I’ve never seen you do anything this cold-blooded.”

“Maybe because I’ve never been in a situation like this before,” she fired back. “We’re responsible for ten thousand lives… ten thousand scared individuals who have lost everything. We should have a hundred Knights here managing this camp, but instead, we’re forced to make do with three. And that’s not counting the less-than-bare-minimum support we’ve been getting from our supposed allies, not to mention our own clan. And this was all before the damn Aggaaddub showed up to make our lives a living hell.” Blye glared at them both, her arms crossed in anger. “So let me make one thing clear; I will use any tool at my disposal to save these people… including my own flesh.”

Prash and Amar shared a nervous look before the former Valkyrie winced in sympathy. “I just pray you don’t have cause to regret this, Blye,” he said at last. “There’s a reason we keep children away from battle.”

“And if the battle is on your literal doorstep?” she challenged him.

“Then we move heaven and earth to get them out of the line of fire,” he answered. “Children are innocents, Blye, you said so yourself. And they sure as hell didn’t sign up for any of this shit.”

Her nostrils flared as she fought back an angry retort. Instead, she eyed him coolly. “You’ve talked about the battle of Sonoitii Prime. About the horrendous losses you took. You’ve told us how, at the end, when all hope seemed lost, how even the wounded were given weapons and propped up to fight. Men and women on their literal death beds, forced to do battle one last time. Mercenaries that were missing limbs, that were blind, that were breathing out of a fucking tube, for Terra’s sake!” She pointed an accusing finger at him, her hand still shaking. “So you tell me, how is this any different? We’re desperate, gentlemen. We’re on the ragged edge out here. Which means it’s either this… or let the Troika slit our throats and the throats of those we have sworn to protect.”

She pushed herself out of her chair, giving them both one last look. “And if you can’t accept that, then you both need to ask yourselves what it is you’re doing here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have rounds to make.”

Blye exited the room without another word, leaving the two junior Knights alone with their thoughts.

“... I honestly don’t know what to say to that,” Prash said at last. “I mean, she’s not wrong.”

“No, she isn’t,” Amar reluctantly agreed. “But even taking everything she said at face value, there’s a line, man… and part of me can’t shake the feeling that she just crossed it.”

“... Terra, help us,” Prash whispered.

After the confrontation with the Kaihautu and him reversing his decision to close the camp, the Knights were no longer confined to the clinic, though their movements were regularly shadowed. They were cautious about testing their limits, but it seemed as long as they steered clear of the vault, they were left unmolested. By now, the need for the quarantine had run its course, especially after so many Qi-Tam deaths at the hands of the Aggaaddub guards. The disease had burned itself out, and since their new overlords had established a cordon of their own around the Precursor computer, Blye had Spata Zhai reassign his warriors elsewhere. Given the overwhelming Troika presence, no one was even remotely tempted to wander near the site.

Two days later, all hell broke loose.

Spata Zhai burst into the infirmary, startling Velsa before shouldering his way past her in search of the Knights. “Chevalier Tagata!” he shouted, bringing Blye and the others running.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“You must come with me. Now,” he said in a rush. “You and the other Knights.”

“What the hell is going on?” Amar asked as he stepped into the medical ward.

“The Tsengju have resumed their food deliveries since the Kaihautu’s sudden change of heart,” he said tightly. “The first convoy just arrived.”

“I mean, isn't that a good thing?” Blye asked him, still confused.

“Of course it is,” he snapped, “only now the refugees are frightened the Aggaaddub may block the convoys in the future. They are in danger of overwhelming my guards in their frenzy to secure as much as they can, for fear there will be no more.”

“Holy Mother Terra,” she whispered in horror, her dark skin going ashen, “... food riots.”

Her head immediately snapped to the others. “Grab your staffs and medical kits now!” she thundered, snatching up her own as they hurried to comply. Swiveling back to the Ixian, Blye grabbed his arm. “Take us there!” she cried as the quartet raced from the clinic, with the Spata leading the way.

“What’s happening?” Amar shouted as they raced like the devil.

“Food riots are bad, man,” Prash shouted back, “turns people into animals. If you don’t stop them before they become an uprising, you’ll have hundreds dead.”

“... and the vendettas that follow are even worse,” Blye confirmed as they crested the hill. They skidded to a halt as they came in sight of the convoy, the sounds of the crowd now filling their ears. It was a raw, feral clamor that sent chills up one’s spine, a red primal hunger that the lizard brain... that primitive chunk of gray matter in charge of feeding, fighting, and fucking... understood all too well.

In the clearing below, the lorry transports had circled into a defensive perimeter, with Spata Zhai’s warriors on the roofs facing outward, their weapons at the ready. Surrounding them was a crowd of thousands, clamoring for their rations. They shoved and jostled against each other, pressing in towards the trucks, with only the threat the Ixians represented holding them at bay. They fired sporadically over their heads, trying to scare them off, but it was a ploy of desperation… and they knew it.

Based on the crowd’s agitation, they were moments away from witnessing a bloodbath.

“Come on!” Blye screamed as she charged down the gentle slope, the others trailing behind her. Still more refugees were streaming in from all directions, terrified of being left out in the cold, as the four of them started fighting their way through the mob. It was like battling a wall of flesh as the Knight grimly went to work with her quarterstaff, smashing her way through the horde, praying she didn’t kill someone in the process.

But she had to get in there if she was going to have any chance of stopping it before it spiraled out of control.

With many fervent prayers to Mother Terra and her clan mates at her side, Blye Tagata bashed her way through the riotous crowd, leaving more than a few broken bones in her wake. There was no time for fancy maneuvers or clever tactics, just hit and hit and hit until you were through.

Bursting through the mob, they immediately drew the attention of the Ixians, their weapons swinging over towards the new threat, only to be pulled away at the last moment in relief as they recognized the Knights and their own commander climbing up to join them. Blye directed Prash and Amar to her left and right as they landed at points roughly equidistant in the encircled caravan. The pair bounded away, leaping from truck to lorry as they took their positions, bolstering their positions as she cast about for a way to be heard over the din.

Thankfully, Spata Zhai was one step ahead of her, passing over a handheld amplifier. “STOP THIS!” she screamed, as the crowd began to realize her presence. “What are you doing?” Blye demanded, with the onlookers finally taking notice.

“Look around you!” she continued, not missing a beat, “look at how many of you are bleeding. How many of your brothers and sisters have you trampled in your desperation?” she cried out, as they began to nervously look about them, but they were still balanced on a knife’s edge. This was merely a pause, nothing more.

She had to convince them. She had to.

“Look at me!” she howled. “You know me! You know I’ll fight for you, that I’ll always fight for you!” More heads turned her way, as more of the crowd came to a halt, and listened. “I know you’re scared,” she continued, “I’m scared, too. But we have survived everything this war has thrown at us, and we will keep surviving, just as long as we remember who we are.”

“... and who is that, Terran!” someone shouted from the throng. Well, no one said this was going to be easy.

“Who are we?” Blye answered, with her head held high. “We are Glevack, and Durzix, and Qi-Tam, and Ksot, and Yait’xaik, and Baishain, and Ixian, and yes… even Terran. We’ve survived because we stood together, with no one above the rest. All of you will receive a fair portion of what this convoy has brought us, that I swear. But it will be done properly, with equal portions, just as we’ve always done.”

She could feel the mood shift, as her words began taking hold, only to have them yanked back away as someone else shouted, “And what if there are no more convoys?”

A voracious growl accompanied the question as she faced her anonymous accuser. “Then we’ll find a way,” she vowed. “We will share what we have equitably, and if someone goes hungry?” She shrugged in recognition of the genuine possibility. “At least you’ll have comfort knowing your friends and neighbors are going hungry as well.” Blye paused, taking a deep breath. “That we’re going hungry, just like you.”

Looking out over the crowd, she waited for their judgment, her staff in hand. Terra, let them hear my words, she murmured in silent prayer.

And by some miracle… they listened.

The atmosphere didn’t change all at once. In small but growing pockets scattered amongst the throng, she could see shame in their faces as people realized just how close they’d come to barbarism. They had been civilized beings once, before being torn away from all they’d know. Clerks, solicitors, and merchants, living in societies that were often far older than any that had existed on Earth. Fear of starvation, fear of the Aggaaddub, fear of the unknown, all had served to push them over the edge. But by the grace of Mother Terra, and sheer force of will, she’d managed to drag them back from the abyss.

This time, at least.

Blye could see from the corner of her eye the Ixians and her fellow Knights relax, as they realized the worst of the storm had passed. Her heart was pounding a million beats a minute, but for now, all she felt was relief.

She lifted the amplifier once more. “Since you are already here, we will begin the disbursement of rations. Spata Zhai, please take charge of that.” The blue-skinned warrior gave her a deep and chivalrous bow, formal acknowledgment both for accomplishing the impossible and her position, before issuing orders to his guards. “Any of you who require medical attention,” she continued, “one of us will come find you.” Prash and Amar took their cue and climbed off the trucks, wading into the crowd as they began searching for the injured.

As the excitement of the moment slowly dissipated, she suddenly felt completely drained. With a weary sigh, she shook her head.

“... don’t break my heart like this again,” she implored, appealing desperately to their better natures. If anything, the crowd’s remorse seemed to deepen. Maybe there was still hope. Blye prayed there was.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for preventing my warriors from being forced to act as executioners,” he said gratefully.

Smiling, she covered his hand with hers. “I’m just grateful it worked,” she told him.

He turned and looked out at the gathered throng, now being chivvied into lines by his men in order to hand out rations. “When first we met, I thought you would have made a splendid Ixian,” he told her before a gentle smile graced his features. “But now… I realize that would only have squandered your talents.” Inclining his head respectfully, he withdrew, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Blye began climbing back down off the lorry, as she prepared to search for those injured. Some by my hand, she realized sadly. That she’d helped to avert a tragedy did little to assuage her remorse, though with a great deal of work that would lessen in time.

Blye felt something wet land on her cheek. Brushing it away, she saw it was merely water and was ready to shrug it off when a second landed on her forearm, a large liquid dollop that hit with a solid smack before dripping off her skin.

Looking up, she realized the clouds above her had grown gray and thick over the last few days, as a third drop landed on her forehead… moments before a heavy peal of thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance, as a deluge erupted over the crowd.

The rains had come at last.