The Engineering team was already nearing the shuttle bay when they received Blye’s message. Until now, they’d been operating under radio silence for security, but with the ship disabled, that was no longer an issue. Still dragging his fellow Knight with him as they swam through the corridors, Amar was the first to respond. “Blye, what’s your status?” he asked her. “Is there a problem?”

She almost wept at the sound of his voice. “Our ride sprung a leak,” she informed him, “so I had to find a replacement. What’s your situation?”

“We’re en route to you now,” he answered. Those that are left, anyway, he silently amended. “Mission accomplished. This ship isn’t going anywhere.”

“I figured as much when the gravity cut out,” she said wryly. “What’s your ETA?”

He thought for a moment. “Ten to fifteen, depending on traffic,” he answered. “We’ve got casualties, so be ready.”

“Understood,” she said quietly. It had been too much to hope for that the mission would go off with no one getting hurt… or worse. “Prash?” she inquired, praying for good news.

“Alive and stable,” Amar reported. The details could wait until they were safely aboard.

“Thank Mother Terra,” she whispered. She could only imagine how many casualties they’d suffered… too many… and though she knew every one of those losses would hit her hard, the thought of never seeing Prash or Amar again was almost too much for her to bear. They’d survived this nightmare together, and there would always be a bond between them because of it.

It’s not over, not until they’re all safe on the planet, her inner critic reminded her. Don’t go counting your chickens just yet.

“Keep the hatch secured until we get there,” Amar warned her. “With the back quarter of the ship missing, there’s plenty of Aggaaddub who are gonna be looking for a ride. Don’t let them take yours.”

“Copy,” Blye responded, her fingers searching for the hatch control. “Locking it down now.”

“We’ll be there soon,” he vowed. “Stay safe. Amar clear.”

Wiping away the moisture in her eyes, Blye felt a profound sense of relief knowing her fellow Knights were still alive and were heading back. But that still left another of their extended family unaccounted for, and she desperately wanted him back safe as well.

“Blye Tagata for Spata Zhai. What’s your status, over?”

Green globules floated in the compartment, along with a smattering of other colors. While Ixian cupraglobin and Aggaaddub hemocyanin looked remarkably similar at first glance, their architecture and nucleic acids were quite different. Two unique and completely separate evolutionary systems were involved, though despite their outward appearance, their scents were poles apart. An experienced tracker could easily tell one from the other, but with the chaotic swirl of free-floating body fluids in the air, even Spata Zhai was having difficulty telling one from the other.

Not that it mattered.

They still held the bridge, fending off the latest assault, but the handful of survivors left were all wounded, just barely holding on. Spata Zhai shared a look with his fellow Ixians; they all knew the Aggaaddub were readying themselves for another attempt, and the odds of holding them off this time were not encouraging. It didn’t matter that the ship was dying, the other team’s success had ensured Implacable would never terrorize another world. But even in its death throes, it was still a threat, unless they somehow drove a stake through its mechanical heart, a task easier said than done. It was nothing short of a miracle, despite the horrific cost, but it wasn’t over yet.

Which is why he almost didn’t answer the Chevalier’s call. In the end, he realized, unless he responded, she’d likely do something foolish, and that would be a tragedy. With a sigh, he logged into the comm channel. “This is Zhai,” he responded. “The Bridge is secure, for now. Troika forces are preparing for another assault.”

Amar cut into the circuit before Blye could reply. “Then blow the Bridge and get out of there!” he snapped. “It’s all over, there’s nothing left worth dying for.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that,” the Ixian said calmly. “You and the others take the shuttle and go. We will cover your escape.”

“What? No!” Blye shouted in horror from the shuttlecraft. “Damn it, don’t play the martyr Zhai! There’s no reason to do this!”

“In fact, there is,” he informed her. “Despite the other team’s success in Engineering, there is still a threat. As long as we control the Bridge, we keep the weapon systems locked out of local control. If we should fall, however, the individual gunners could still rain destruction onto the planet.” He shrugged in mute acceptance. “Therefore, we hold, for as long as we can.”

“There’s no need,” Amar pleaded with him, “half the damn ship is missing! It’s over, Zhai. We won. Now get your blue butt back here!”

“Your mission has indeed ensured our success,” the Ixian agreed. “Losing Engineering and the engines has triggered a cascade failure among the ship’s systems. It is already building; soon it will destroy this craft, and everyone on it.”

“So get out of there!” Blye shouted at him, echoing Amar’s words. “There’s no reason to get yourself killed!”

“And what of your charges on the planet below?” Zhai asked softly. “As long as this ship remains, they are in danger. The Troika will not care if their mission is a failure, or that their commander is dead. That they have destroyed the ancient computer will not dissuade them either, nor will the sheer futility of such an act. No… all they see are troublemakers who must be crushed because we dared raise a hand against them.” He paused for a moment. “That is who they are, who they have always been. For five thousand years we chafed beneath their yoke, until an unlikely race of vagabonds and nomads had the audacity to say, ‘No more’.”

There was a chuckle in his voice that almost made her smile. “I suspect you do not realize how preposterous the Alliance seemed to the rest of the Perseus Arm. The very notion of defying the Troika on any matter has long been seen as a death sentence, until your people showed us they were not the all-powerful beings they claimed. The courage taking that step required… even now, it astounds me.”

“We had no choice,” Blye said quietly, “and absolutely nothing to lose.”

“When your back is to the wall and the enemy’s blade is at your throat, your options do indeed become quite clear,” he concurred. “It is obvious to me now that you Terrans would be the ones to raise the banner and fan the flames of rebellion, for who else could?”

There was a sharp intake of breath as Amar whispered, “Holy fuck.”

The tone of his voice was enough to drag Blye’s focus away from the Ixian. “What?” she demanded.

“Sonoitii Prime,” he whispered, “when we made the deal with the Oivu. They said we would be the catalyst for change in the galaxy.” The Spata’s words had struck him hard. “I never gave it much thought, mostly cause I’ve been too busy trying to stay alive. But now… how did they know what was coming?”

“I don’t know,” Blye told him. “But I do know that too many have already died. Blow the Bridge, Zhai, and get out!” she begged him.

“I fear the Aggaaddub forces gathering for yet another attempt to take the Bridge prevent me from complying with your request,” he said gently. “My place is here, Chevalier Tagata, as perhaps it was always meant to be.”

“Haven’t enough died already?” she snarled, fighting back the tears. “Will you force me to carry your ghost as well, alongside all the others?”

There was another pause before the Ixian finally responded. “You asked me once what I feared,” he told her. “Do you recall my answer?”

She remembered the conversation vividly. It was burned into her brain, branded with a glowing iron. “Dishonor,” she whispered, as the realization of his words struck home, “and dying in your bed.”

“Indeed,” she heard him smile. “This is a good death, Blye Tagata, as good as I could have ever hoped for. Do not cheapen it by making me grovel, not when you have already given me your blessing.”

At first, she didn’t understand what he was telling her until she recollected the words she’d spoken to him that day. Thrown by his confession of what he truly feared, she’d blurted out what had seemed like a fitting reply.

May you die well.

“Go,” he told her, “and we will keep you safe. The people still need you, Chevalier Tagata.”

The sound of movement at the hatch tore her attention away for a moment, until Prash suddenly cursed, “God damnit!”

“Sorry,” Amar mumbled. “Forgot the shuttle had its own gravity generator.”

“Prash? Amar? Thank Mother Terra,” she said in a rush, wishing she could see them. “Are you both alright?”

“He’s got a nasty shoulder wound, but other than that we’re okay,” the former Valkyrie told her.

“And the others?” she asked hopefully, as the sounds of others moving about in the shuttle reached her ears.

“A handful,” Prash struggled to get out, “that’s all.”

“No… “ she whispered, as the tears threatened to make a reappearance. So many deaths, and Spata Zhai wanted to add his own name to the list as well? No, a thousand times no!

But she also knew he would not budge, that he was determined to see this out to the bitter end, on his terms. Perhaps he was not the most complicated soul she’d met in her travels, but he was by far the most resolute.

“I won’t forget you,” she said softly.

“Nor I you,” he answered, his voice like a gentle caress. “Now go. We will watch over you… one last time.”

Amar slipped into the pilot’s seat beside her, programming the startup sequence. “The others are secured, or soon will be,” he informed her, before adding his own farewell. “It was an honor knowing you, Zhai,” he told him. “Even when we were enemies, your people fought bravely, and with integrity.”

“It is I who am honored,” Zhai said fiercely, “to stand by your side while you reshape the galaxy.” The sound of weapons fire echoed through the comms. “And now I must go. As must you. Yuutsah’Zhoz… my dear friends.”

And with that, the circuit went dead.

Blye wept as the shuttle detached from the battlecruiser, beginning its descent toward the planet. The cockpit was silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts, until she asked, “What does that mean? Yuutsah’Zhoz?”

“I asked Paygan Xeing about it once,” Amar told her. “He said it meant, ‘Own the day’, in their ancient tongue.” He paused, smiling at the memory. “He also said it wasn’t just a battle cry, but a way of life.”

“Own the day,” she whispered… as Implacable exploded in a ball of plasma, brighter than the sun.

A massive crowd stood, awaiting their arrival as the shuttle landed. Almost the entire camp had turned out, both eager and fearful to learn the outcome in equal measures. As the hatch opened and the Knights emerged, a mammoth roar greeted them, the cheers and hurrahs of half a dozen races joining into a symphony of pure joy.

The mood quickly grew somber when they finally realized just how few others appeared with them.

Relatives and loved ones of the volunteers thronged closest to the landing field, eyes searching for their husbands and wives, their daughters and sons, their mothers and fathers. Here and there tearful reunions were celebrated, holding them close for fear of losing them once more, but far more common were the cries of anguish, falling to their knees as they realized their beloved would not be returning to them. The sound hit Blye like a tsunami of pain, staggering her, so much so that Amar was forced to grab her arm and steady her as they made their way down the ramp. As they neared the throng, a hush came over the crowd, waiting for her to speak.

Save for the weeping, of course. Nothing would silence that.

What am I supposed to say to them? Blye thought in despair. How can any utterance of mine make up for what I’ve done?

Prash teetered on unsteady feet as he moved to her side, wincing at the pain of his ruined shoulder. “Just speak from the heart,” he said gently, “you’ll find the words.”

Swallowing nervously, Blye wished she could see their faces. “My friends,” she said hesitantly, struggling to find her footing, “today is both a great, and terrible day. The Aggaaddub vessel Implacable, the gun pointed at our heads for these many weeks, is no more.”

Another roar from the crowd greeted her announcement, swelling into a crescendo, until she raised her arms and begged them to allow her to continue. “But this victory came at great cost, and for that, I can only beg your forgiveness… even though I do not deserve it.”

Confusion swept through the ranks, her speech leaving them rattled and at sea. “You put your trust in me, and I have failed you. It was my duty, my mission, to protect you all, and I have failed there as well. There is nothing I can say, nothing I can do, to bring back all those we have lost… but if it were up to me, I would gladly trade my life for theirs.” Tears filled her eyes once more as she whispered, “... I wish to Mother Terra that I could.”

“This wasn’t your fault, Blye,” Amar told her, shocked by her words.

“Then whose fault was it?” she demanded. “They placed me in charge of this camp, so not only was the responsibility mine, but the culpability, as well. As the ancient saying goes; ‘The buck stops here’.” She leaned heavily against her staff, suddenly haggard and bone weary. “With Implacable no longer intercepting our communications, I will place an immediate call to Grand Master Makar… and insist I be relieved for cause.”

She stumbled away from the shuttle, using her staff to guide her as she slowly made her way back towards the clinic. The crowd parted silently before her, unsure what to make of their patron saint, now that she had publicly announced her abdication.