“... you can’t be serious.”

Prash sat down beside Blye’s cot and placed his hand on her forehead. “I’m not still running a fever,” she snapped. “Don’t you dare just dismiss this.”

“Blye… you’re talking about having visions,” Amar said guardedly. “You must understand how that sounds to the rest of us.”

“I believe her,” Velsa sniffed.

“No offense, but that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement,” Prash fired back, earning himself a glare from the Ksot nurse. “You’ve been filling her head with this worship stuff for weeks now. Of course she’s having dreams about it,” he pointed out.

“Excuse me,” Blye growled, leveraging herself up to a sitting position, “do you mind not talking about me as if I wasn’t right here?”

“... Sorry,” the two men said in unison, both suitably chagrined.

“And why is this so hard to believe?” Blye continued. “I’ve got an Ancient computer talking directly to my brain, and you don’t have any issues with that.”

“That’s different,” Amar reasoned with her. “For one thing, Aleph is real. We’ve all seen it… hell, I’ve interacted with it myself.”

“And just who do you think built Aleph?” Blye pressed him. “You can’t deny the Precursors existed, Amar. Even the Oivu agree on that, not to mention the Troika wouldn’t be pressing us so hard if they didn’t believe it too.”

“The Oivu also said they disappeared a billion years ago,” Prash reminded her. “How could they possibly be speaking to you now?”

“Who knows what they’re capable of?” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Everything about them is shrouded in mystery, so I ask you again… why is this so hard to believe?”

“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation,” Prash muttered, before taking another crack at it. “Blye, you’re a Knight and a healer,” he stressed, “someone who believes in science, not superstition. Taking a mental leap like this, without a shred of evidence to support it… what would you call it?”

“... Faith,” she answered softly, rocking them back on their heels. “You’re right, I can’t prove anything I’ve seen,” Blye admitted, “and I know full well how it looks, especially given my recent illness. I understand why it's so hard to accept, and I won’t lie, part of me questions it too.” She shook her head as if she were trying to convince herself, before shrugging. “But I can’t deny what I’ve seen either, or how deeply it speaks to me. And what exactly is so radical that I’m telling you, anyway? We know New Terra exists… or Threshold, if we’re going to call it by its original name. And having to prove ourselves worthy? Why is that such a stretch? No one’s been able to access the planet since the Precursors vanished… no one, except us. Doesn’t that, by its very definition, make us worthy?”

The two men didn’t respond, instead eyeing one another in confusion. Instead, it was Velsa who stepped forward while the others grappled with their reply.

“I do not understand you,” she said bitterly, “you, who all along have told us to have hope, to believe that something better would come. Well, it has,” she stressed, gesturing towards Blye. “What I find even stranger is that your own clan embraces the concept of faith, and yet you seem to have none yourselves, not unless you can analyze it with the tools of science.” Moving to stand beside Blye, she folded her arms and gave them both a withering stare. “Some things are beyond what we can see and touch and measure.”

“Is she supposed to be your acolyte now?” Prash said uncharitably, ignoring her entirely. “And if we’re going to drag the clan into this, ask yourself what the Grand Master is going to say when you tell him you’ve started your own religion. Because that’s what you’re talking about, whether or not you want to admit it. You’ve already got a ready-made congregation just waiting to worship you, Blye, and I get why that might be alluring.” He knelt down beside her, taking her hand. “But that’s not the Knight I know. The Blye Tagata I’ve served with never once cared about herself, only others. So please, I beg you, don't fall into that trap. Because let’s face it, you’re no more a goddess than I am.”

“Is that what you think this is?” she said in disbelief. “You think this is about my precious ego? Nothing could be further from the truth.” She sighed and shook her head. “I wish I could show you what I saw in my visions, Prash. Blame them on my fever if you must, and I admit my being ill might have been a catalyst, but it was so real.” Velsa startled at her words, as Blye struggled to describe what she’d experienced. “I can’t just dismiss it as nothing more than a fever-induced hallucination. I just can’t.” She shrugged helplessly. “I wish I could explain it better than that, but there’s a part of me that can’t simply walk away from this. I have to see it through.”

“And the cost?” Amar tactfully pointed out. “Not just to you, or us, or even the child you’re carrying, but to the refugees. You bring something like this into the mix, especially now? With everything that’s happening?” A look of horror came over him. “Blye, you’ll unleash something here you won't be able to control.”

“I pray you’re wrong,” she told him, “and I swear, I will do everything within my power to prevent that from happening. But I can’t ignore this.” Her head drooped as lay back down on the cot. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted. I need to get some rest.”

It was obvious her fellow Knights were far from satisfied, but they acquiesced to her request, nonetheless. Velsa waited until they were out of earshot, before seating herself beside the cot. “Blye, there’s something that you said,” she began, “something that concerns me.”

Pulling the blanket up around her, Blye quirked an eyebrow. “What did I say?”

“About your visions,” Velsa explained, “when you said you wished you could show the others what you’d seen.”

She cocked her head, confused. “Yes, and?”

Velsa reached out and briefly touched the alien device now grafted to her skull. “You said you wished you could show them what you’d seen,” she repeated, this time with emphasis.

A sharp intake of breath betrayed her, as Blye belatedly recognized the danger Velsa was alluding to. She thought furiously, comparing what she knew of the brain’s neurological function versus how she suspected the implant operated, before finally shaking her head. “I don’t know, Velsa,” she said at last. “The subconscious interprets images differently during REM sleep, instead of how the brain normally processes visual data. How different, I can’t say, but if I had to guess, someone observing my dreams via the implant would likely see things all jumbled and out of focus.”

Leaning in, Velsa said softly, “... if they were dreams.”

Blye rubbed her temple, wincing in pain as she mulled that one over. “I’m not sure what the difference between a ‘dream’ and a ‘vision’ is, Velsa. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

The Ksot nurse slowly nodded. “It’s not as if you could just stop dreaming.”

“There are a couple of medications that will suppress the dream state… Prazosin and Risperidone specifically, but they both come with dangerous side effects, especially for someone in my condition,” she explained, first touching her implant and then her belly. “I don’t dare risk it. More importantly… I don’t want to.”

She nodded in understanding. “Then what will you do if the Kaihautu sees your visions himself and demands to learn more?” she asked.

Blye was silent for some time.

“I don’t know, Velsa,” she said finally, “... I just don’t know.”

“So, what do you think? Is she crazy?”

Prash shot the other Knight a look while he studied the latest batch of samples. “Of course not,” he snapped. “Whatever it is she thinks she experienced, she’s still lucid. She’s just… seeing the universe differently than we do.”

Amar remained unconvinced. “Some might say that’s the definition of psychosis.”

The Chevalier Cinquième turned to face his counterpart. “Don’t even go down that road,” he warned, “we’ve got enough on our plate already. So she has visions. So what? She did just have brain surgery, so a little neurological impairment is to be expected. It’ll pass.”

The former Valkyrie folded his arms. “And what if it doesn’t? What then?”

“Then we’ll handle it,” he said through gritted teeth, sliding another batch into the spectrometer, “just like we’ve handled everything else on this godforsaken mission.” Prash took a moment to compose himself before speaking once more. “I won't lie though, it’s a complication I could have done without.”

“Listen,” Amar said in hushed tones, “don’t you see how dangerous this is? We’ve been walking a thin line ever since the Aggaaddub arrived, and yet how many have died because of them? A hundred? More? But this,” he hissed, pointing back towards Blye’s cot, “this could escalate the situation to where it turns into something we can’t contain. With the Troika already at our throats, and the refugees treating her like she’s some sort of living saint… Prash, this has all the earmarks of becoming a fucking holy war.”

Despite himself, he shuddered at the thought. “I have to admit, I don’t like the way Velsa is encouraging her,” Prash confessed. “It’s like she’s her herald or something.”

“Or her second in command,” Amar agreed. “Whatever she is, she’s pumping fuel onto the fire.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he told him, “Blye is still head of this mission, and unless I see some clear sign of mental breakdown, I’m not challenging that. She’s my superior, and more importantly, she’s my friend. We went to Earth together, for Terra’s sake!” he said, throwing up his hands.

“... that fucking mission,” Amar said ruefully, shaking his head, “I swear, it’s brought nothing but disaster. The whole damn Perseus Arm is in flames because of it… and it’s why most of my battalion died on Sonoitii Prime.” He glared at Prash. “I don’t give a shit about her ‘visions’,” he said, using finger quotes. “They’re not worth the hellfire they’ll bring down on top of us.”

The other Knight started to respond, only to be interrupted as the spectrometer beeped as it completed its test. He gave the machine a cursory glance, only to do a double take when he saw the results. Prash spent a few moments confirming the data, then looked over at Amar as he handed them to him. Reading it for himself, his eyes widened as both men’s gazes traveled down to the innocuous-looking petri dish.

According to the spectrometer, the dish contained a poison deadly enough to drop an adult Aggaaddub in their tracks… just as Blye had requested.

“You are correct, that is disturbing,” Spata Zhai agreed. “I take it then you do not believe in these ‘visions’.”

“No,” Amar replied, shaking his head. “I’m certain it’s a symptom of her recent illness. That, or…” His voice trailed off, as he found himself unable to say what was on his mind.

“Or what, Chevalier Svoboda?” the blue-skinned Ixian pressed him.

Meeting his gaze, he said deliberately, “Or the strain of the past few months have taken too great a toll.”

There was a pause as he let that sink in. “I pray you are wrong,” the Spata said finally, “but given everything she has endured since her arrival… well, I have seen others broken by less.”

“I wish you could talk to her, and get her to see reason,” Amar said despondently. “She respects you.”

“I regret that I cannot,” the Ixian sighed. “Blye was quite correct in keeping me at arm's length, ever since that infernal device was forced upon her,” he spit out. “The risk is simply too great, for both her and myself.”

“I get the reasoning,” Amar conceded, “but this is different. I’m worried about her. I’m afraid she might do something… drastic.”

Spata Zhai raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It’s all that mystical nonsense that’s in her head now, and Velsa is just making it worse,” he said with sudden vehemence. “Maybe it’s because I’m an outsider… I started off as a Valkyrie, before becoming a Knight… and the Knights are more devout than what I’m used to. Most are followers of the Terran faith, the religion that sprang up after losing our homeworld, and it’s fairly benign, mostly. But the levels she’s taking it to…”

He got a distant look in his eye, as the Ixian observed him with curiosity. “Faith can be a powerful thing, Spata. They say it can move mountains. Our histories are filled with tales of individuals enduring horrific tragedies, only to persevere because of their faith. It’s the thing that’s helped us survive as a people, ever since the destruction of Earth.” He turned, his gaze boring into the alien warrior’s. “But it’s a double-edged sword. Faith without control can become an inferno, burning everything and leaving nothing untouched. And far too many of those ancient tales end with the hero… or heroine… dying a martyr’s death.”

“And you fear that is her intent? To sacrifice herself?” the Ixian asked quietly.

Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a small, sealed container. “She ordered us to develop a poison deadly enough to kill an adult Aggaaddub in seconds. It took time, but we finally found one. One of the local forms of aquatic life, as it turns out, uses a toxin to hunt its prey. We refined it and made it much more potent.” Amar set the canister on the ground and slid it over. “She didn't say what her intentions were, but I have my suspicions. If I’m right…” He shrugged helplessly.

“You suspect she plans on assassinating our good friend, the Kaihautu Yugha,” he surmised, receiving a reluctant nod in return. The Ixian picked up the container, examining it. “Has it been tested?”

“On cell cultures,” Amar explained. “It destroyed those effortlessly. But until it’s tried on an actual Aggaaddub, there’s no telling if it’s effective.”

“I see.” The canister disappeared inside his pocket. “What is it you hope to accomplish, Chevalier Svoboda?”

“I just want to avoid a bloodbath,” he confessed. “The others don’t know I’m here, or that I brought you that,” he said, indicating the toxin, “and honestly, I don’t know who else I can trust.” He sighed once more, as the strength seemed to ebb from his body. “I’ve already survived one holocaust, Spata Zhai, and I would do literally anything to keep it from happening again.”

The Ixian nodded, rising to his feet. “You did the right thing, coming here,” he told the young Knight, who rose as well. “You should return before your absence is noticed. As for the rest…”

“... leave that to me.”