Blye perched on a log in front of the clinic, while hundreds of the camp’s residents sat before her, arranged in a semicircle. She considered the question posed to her for a moment, before finally shrugging. In the distance behind them, they could see shuttles taking off and landing, disgorging much-needed supplies and personnel now that Implacable was no longer a threat.

“I don't think there’s a simple answer to that,” she said after a moment. “Certainly not a universal one. Any question as big and open-ended as, ‘What is our purpose?’, is by definition subjective, and my answer probably isn’t the same as yours. That’s a question we all have to answer for ourselves.” She smiled even as she waited for the next question, only to have another individual rise and pick up the thread.

“Then what would your answer be?” one of the Durzix in attendance queried.

“My answer?” She thought for a second. “Well, I’m a special case. My clan was founded on the principle of service, so that’s been my goal for as long as I can remember. I’ve tried to put the needs of others first, ahead of my own, though with mixed success I’m afraid.” Her face darkened for a moment, as she flashed briefly on the memory of boarding Implacable, before recovering quickly. “But I truly believe it’s how we treat others that defines who we are, and what we hold dear. We all need help from time to time, and by being there for a friend, a family member, or a complete stranger, we’ve made their lives better by some small amount. Just imagine for a moment, if we all did that, every day. Think how much better our lives would be, all our lives,” she told them, spreading her hands wide.

“In fact, let me leave that as my parting challenge to you,” she continued, as the crowd nodded in agreement. “Help someone every day, without the expectation of reward. Do it because it will make things better, in some minuscule way. It doesn’t matter what it is, it could be literally anything. Even something as simple as listening to them describe the troubles in their life. A sympathetic ear can make a tremendous difference, after all, don’t we all wish to be heard?” she asked them.

The crowd erupted with cheers and whistles, with each of the races in attendance expressing their admiration and respect in their own unique ways. She let them get it out of their system, before raising her hands to ask for silence once more. “My point is, I don’t have all the answers,” she told them, “no one does. And anyone who tells you otherwise is looking to use you, so don’t let them! Find your own answers, ask your own questions. If I can leave you with any advice at all, it would be that: be true to yourselves, and kind to others. If you can follow that simple guide, you really can’t go wrong.”

Rising to her feet with the aid of her staff, the crowd roared its approval, giving her a standing ovation as they applauded her. Blye slowly made her way through the throng, touching hands and offering words of encouragement as they pressed in around her. Many were forced to settle for a brief moment of physical contact, their digits brushing against her cloak, and yet were thrilled with the experience. A hug here and there slowed her progress as she did her best to connect with all of them, but there were simply too many. As she arrived at the other side, she turned and faced the crowd, giving them all one last wave, before presenting herself to the small cluster of individuals awaiting her presence.

“I don’t know how people do that on a regular basis,” she sighed, deflating. “It’s gratifying to be sure, but mostly I find it draining.”

“Practice,” the Grand Master chuckled, “lots and lots of practice. I’m guessing then you’re not upset at leaving your adoring fans behind.”

“I never asked for this,” she said unhappily, “and being honest, I find the whole thing unnerving. But if they insist on following me around and asking questions, then the very least I can do is try to give them the best advice I can. I owe them that… that, and so much more.”

Her shoulders sagged a bit as turned her head, reliving yet another dark moment. The Grand Master nodded, mostly to himself, as he recognized the symptoms. While they were prepping her for her eventual surgery that would hopefully restore her eyesight, they’d need to plan for therapy sessions as well, in order to deal with her post-traumatic stress before it crippled her.

Of course, these days everyone was suffering from PTSD, thanks to the Yīqún. Psychologists, therapists, and their alien analogs were doing a booming business as of late, though they would have all preferred to not be so much in demand. “Are you ready to depart?” he asked her.

“My bag is already packed, just need to say my goodbyes,” she answered, as she searched the group with her sightless eyes before Prash maneuvered his way to her.

“I’m going to miss you, Blye,” he told her, his arm still bound up tight and wrapped against his chest. “We’ve been together for a long time, since back before Azhakom, and you taught me everything I know. I’ll hold the fort as best I can until they send a replacement… though I’m not sure anyone is going to be able to fill your shoes.”

“My feet are actually kind of small,” she smiled, reaching out so he could clasp her hand with his good arm. “And you’ll do just fine, you have my complete confidence. Though if things are still stretched as thin as I think they might be, don’t be surprised if they make your appointment permanent.” Giving his hand a squeeze, she said softly, “You’re ready, Prash. Ready to take the next step.”

He blanched at that, before glancing over at the Grand Master for confirmation. His clan leader’s expression was decidedly noncommittal on the subject, something that filled his soul with sudden horror before he shook it off. “Well, if it happens, I’ll have your example to guide me,” he told her, his throat closing up with emotion as he gazed at the device grafted onto her head. “I wish…” he began, before his words disappeared into silence.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “What happened wasn’t your fault, so don’t blame yourself. Promise me that.”

“I promise,” he vowed, though perhaps not as strongly as she’d hoped, before carefully wrapping his arm around her shoulders and hugging her tight. “Stay safe, Blye,” he said softly.

“You too,” she answered, before finally letting him go, the male Knight stepping back as another took his place.

She felt a cool scaly hand grip hers. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” Velsa said nervously. “You taught me so much. Blye, you opened my eyes,” she said with passion, her hand quickly flying to her mouth as she realized the words she’d just uttered. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she stammered, while Blye merely chuckled at her verbal faux pas.

“It’s okay, Velsa,” she smiled, covering the Ksot nurse’s hand with hers. “People in our line of work shouldn’t get flustered over medical realities. Besides, you were of greater help to me than you realize. You believed me, when I barely believed myself. You don’t know how much that meant to me, in my darker moments.”

The alien woman flustered, before bobbing her head. “You showed me how to have faith again, when I had all but lost it,” she finally managed. “If I was of any help to you, even in the smallest way, then I have been more than repaid.” Blye clasped her shoulders, giving her a warm squeeze, before she stepped back as well.

To her surprise, someone pressed a flask into her waiting palm instead of the handshake she’d been expecting. “From our well,” Akuum Wuzah murmured, the Glevack engineer most responsible for its creation, “should you ever find yourself in need of relief during your travels.”

Clasping the canteen to her chest, she reached up and cupped his face. “Thank you, Akuum,” she told him. “Keeping these people safe required more than our fair share of miracles… but yours was the first.” The alien flushed a dark purple as he bowed his head. “You saved their lives,” she reminded him, “and that is a gift without measure, in the finest traditions of the Knights Hospitaller.”

“Safe travels, Blye,” he murmured, before stepping back.

Sensing others moving in to say their farewells, she tucked the flask into her bag before pivoting to meet them. “I gotta tell you, this mission has been one hell of an introduction to the Knights,” Amar chuckled, taking her hand. “But I learned a lot from you, and I hope this isn’t the last time our paths cross.”

“As do I,” she smiled. “I know the transition hasn’t been an easy one for you, coming from the Valkyries, but you’ve done good work here, and I know you will continue to excel in the years to come.” She smiled and gave him a hug, only to be surprised when he cleared his throat and pulled away.

“Actually, I have another reason for being here today, besides saying goodbye,” he told her, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Someone stepped up to join them while she cocked her head in confusion. “Blye, this is Paygan Kuosha Xeing, of the Ixi Brigade. We met on Sonoitii Prime, under… unusual circumstances.”

Blye froze, confused by the introduction. “It is an honor to meet you, Chevalier Tagata,” the Paygan said formally. “We have a mutual friend, Sergeant Rúna Aukes. She speaks highly of you… as do the members of my race who had the honor of fighting at your side.”

She stared at him with her sightless eyes, her mouth moving, yet no words would come. “Did… did you know him?” she said hoarsely, her voice strangled by a whirlwind of emotions. “Did you know Spata Zhai?”

“I regret to say that I did not,” he replied, taking her outstretched hand. “But everything I have learned of him informs me that is my loss. I would have enjoyed hearing his stories and would have trusted him to guard my back.” He paused for a moment. “As you might imagine, that is not an honor lightly granted among my kind.”

Tears filled her eyes as she bowed her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“So. It is as your companion feared,” he said after a moment. “Chevalier Svoboda sent word to me, informing me how you blamed yourself for Spata Zhai’s death. I rerouted my transport to this world immediately.”

His admission threw her. “Why?” she asked in confusion.

The Paygan placed a gentle palm against the side of her face. “Because I have had experience with Terran mourning,” he said softly, “and honor demanded I come here to help you find some measure of peace.” He smiled at her. “Besides… I owed it to a friend.”

“You’re on an impossible mission, Paygan,” she said bitterly. “Spata Zhai died saving me, saving all of us,” she gestured, sweeping her hand to indicate all those surrounding them. “He could have made it to the shuttle. I begged him to, but…” A tear rolled down her cheek as she found herself unable to finish the tale.

The Paygan sighed, as he reached down to take her hand. “He chose the place to make his stand,” he told her, “as must we all, eventually. We will not soon forget the deeds of our brother, for he exemplified what it means to be Ixian. I envy you, Blye Tagata, that you had the chance to know him, and were with him at the end… at least in spirit.”

The dam burst as the tears began to flow, as Blye wept for him. “I understand your pain,” the Ixian said gently, “but I tell you this: tears are not how he would wish to be remembered.”

“Then how am I supposed to honor him?” she demanded, wiping a sleeve across her face.

The Paygan chuckled. “By celebrating his life, not mourning his death. That is the Ixian way. I am certain you have many moments you can recall of your time together. Think of those. Cherish those. For no one truly dies, not so long as they are remembered.”

She cast her mind back to the times they’d spent together. “He told me his greatest fear was to die in bed,” she sniffled. “At least he was spared that.”

“And in so doing, saved countless lives,” the Paygan agreed, “perhaps even an entire planet. I can only hope that when it is my time, I die with half the courage he showed. I would consider that to be a life well spent.”

Blye sniffled once more, wiping her eyes, before nodding to the Ixian. “I’ll try,” she told him, “but it won’t be easy.”

“The important things rarely are,” he chuckled. “It was an honor to meet you, Chevalier Tagata. I hope our paths may someday cross again.” Slamming his fist to his chest, he saluted the Knight, nodding at Amar before turning and taking his leave.

“A strange man,” she mused. “How exactly did you meet?”

“It’s… a long story,” Amar sighed.

“You’ll have to tell me some time,” she said curiously, shaking her head, when the Grand Master appeared at her elbow.

“Ready?” he asked her.

Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she took up her staff. “I am,” she answered.

He offered her his arm, which she gladly took. She paused for a moment, recalling the day they’d first arrived on Taing’zem. So much had happened since then. So many memories, though not all of them pleasant ones. “I will miss you, my friends. Keep a candle lit for me, and hopefully I’ll return to you one day.”

“We’ll be here,” Prash told her, as the crowd began to cheer and chant her name.

Blye waved at them one last time, before the Grand Master guided her towards the waiting shuttle. Once they were out of earshot, she sagged, leaning heavily against him. I’ll never get used to that,” she mumbled.

“We’ll see,” he said enigmatically. “There is another matter I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

“Yes?”

“I see you are with child again,” he smiled. “When we get you settled in on Malta, I’ll start searching for a suitable adoptive family. Same qualifications as before?” he asked her.

Her hand went down to her belly, just barely starting to show. “No… not this time,” she said softly. Blye turned to her clan leader as they approached the shuttle. “I’m keeping my child.”

The Grand Master smiled as they mounted the ramp. Minutes later, the shuttle rose from the hard-packed dirt, as it lifted itself up into the sky.

THE END