As the Paygan fell, a hush came over the crowd, with both factions bowing their heads in respect. The Ixian was a popular figure among both Terrans and his own kind alike, and as his lifeblood spilled onto the deck, all present keenly felt the loss.

Rúna, however, was having none of it.

“Doc, front and center!” she shouted, falling to her knees and cradling the dying man’s head. “Stay with me, goddamnit!” she snarled, as the Knight landed beside her and dug into his medical kit, fighting to stop the bleeding. The Paygan gurgled on his own blood, fading fast, as she looked to Amar in desperation. “Help him!” she begged.

“He needs immediate trauma surgery and a massive transfusion of blood,” he told her. “Even if this ship had a sickbay, he’d never get there in time. I’m sorry, ma’am,” Doc said despondently.

In anguish, she looked at the other Ixians. “Help us carry him to your ship!” she begged them.

A look passed between the blue-skinned aliens. “The Paygan has fallen to your blade during honorable combat,” his Second answered. “Even if saving him was possible, doing so would be the last thing he wished. He gambled his life, and it is now forfeit.” He shook his head. “To save him now would make a mockery of our most sacred traditions, for what is the point of daring all for honor, only to cheat one’s way back after suffering defeat?”

She stared at them in shock, before frantically whipping her head around as she searched for something, anything, that might save him… when her gaze landed on the Protean assassin, just as the ambassador’s had moments before.

“Samara, get your ass over here!” she thundered. The former terrorist raised an eyebrow as she glanced at Genvass, who nodded his encouragement. With a shrug, she joined the others trying to save the Ixian’s life.

Rúna looked up with despair in her eyes. “Help him. Please,” she pled with her. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I can try,” Samara answered, “but no promises.” There was a momentary pause as something shifted behind her eyes as she knelt beside the others. Her efforts were sure and focused as she examined the wound before looking at the Valkyrie.

“The wound is mortal,” the cognate informed her. “I fear there is little I can do.”

“You’ve brought Samara back from the brink of death dozens of times!” she said frantically. “Surely you can do the same for him!”

“We have also made significant alterations to her physiology,” the cognate explained to her. “I am unable to do the same for the alien since we cannot link with him. In the time he has left, the only procedure available to us would be to introduce nanites into his system to repair the damage, but they are configured for our shared genome, not his. In their current format, they would merely hasten his demise.”

“Then reprogram them!” she snapped. “Samara is always going on about how fucking brilliant you guys are. Surely you can manage that.”

“To do as you ask would require extensive knowledge of his anatomy and genetic profile,” the cognate said pointedly. “Without that data, any efforts of ours would likely prove terminal.”

“He’s already dying!” Rúna screamed in frustration. “For Terra’s sake, what have you fucking got to lose?”

The Precursor wearing Samara’s body gave her a curious look, before inclining her head in accord. “We shall try,” they said simply, prior to placing their hands directly over the wound. The Paygan’s eyes fluttered as the cognate fought to save him, though it was far too soon to know if their efforts were having any effect.

The Ixians watched the Valkyrie’s efforts to save their commander in silence, unsure what to make of this strange turn of events. Finally, the Second spoke up once more.

“This is not our way,” he said awkwardly. “The Paygan has fallen in combat. Do not rob him of the dignity his choice has earned him.”

Rúna simply glared at him. “I was the victor, which means his life is mine to do with as I see fit, is it not?” she asked him point blank, “as long as my actions are honorable.”

“... Yes,” the Second reluctantly agreed, “that is true. Still…”

“I choose to spare his life,” she argued, interrupting him, “so are you going to help us or what?” Rúna glowered at the other Ixians until finally a stretcher was brought out for him.

“We will transport him to our medical facilities,” the Second said at last, “though I suspect there is little that can be done.”

“We’ll see about that,” the Valkyrie muttered under her breath, as the entourage transferred over to the Ixian vessel, with Genvass tagging along behind. As they arrived at Sickbay, the Second held up his palm.

“Medical personnel only,” he ordered, before turning his attention to Samara. “That includes you.”

“It is only through my efforts that your Paygan is even still alive,” the cognate stated bluntly. “If you prevent me from accompanying him now, he will die.”

The pair glared at one another before the Second finally caved. “Very well,” he agreed, “but we will guard you closely as you work.”

“As you wish,” the cognate allowed, before being hustled into surgery.

Rúna’s blood-stained hands shook as she tried vainly to wipe them clean. “That stiff-necked, prideful lunatic,” she said to no one in particular.

“What are you talking about?” Genvass inquired.

She looked at him curiously. “You mean you didn’t see it?”

“See what?” he asked her, now even more confused.

“At the end, just before my attack,” she clarified. “The Paygan dropped his guard.”

“I don’t understand,” the ambassador replied, shaking his head.

“That stupid bastard let me win,” she snapped. “There was no way my sword should have gotten anywhere near him. That last lunge was a feeble attempt, and we both knew it.” She turned away as her body trembled. “He intentionally let down his guard so I could deliver the killing blow.” Tears glistened on her cheek as she wept, her shoulders heaving as she cried great racking sobs.

Genvass had no reply for that. Seriously, what could you say? So instead he wrapped his arms around her and let her weep, stroking her hair and whispering benign platitudes until finally, the worst of the storm had passed. Wiping her eyes and nose, she gave him a quick nod to prove she had herself back under control as she disentangled herself from his embrace.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“Not sure yet,” she admitted. “Better, maybe, at least a little.” She shook her head in frustration. “I just don’t understand why the hell he did it.”

“Because he cares for you,” Genvass said softly, “so much so that he would rather surrender his own life than take yours.”

Her head snapped up in shock. “Not in a romantic way,” the ambassador clarified, “but as a friend. You know him better than I do, but I suspect that when the moment came, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.”

Rúna spent several moments processing that, struggling to make sense of it all, before casting a forlorn look at the hatch leading to the Medical bay. “I feel so damn helpless,” she admitted.

The ambassador barked out a nervous laugh. “Welcome to my world,” he chuckled ruefully, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve felt useless since this mission started?”

She managed a brief smile. “So what do you do?” she asked.

“Flail about helplessly,” he shrugged, “though lately, I’ve suspected that might not be the most useful response.”

“It isn’t,” she agreed, “but you’re not giving me much to work with here.”

“Then do what people have always done under these circumstances,” he suggested.

“What’s that?”

Genvass found a place to sit down and then took her hands in his.

“Pray,” he said gently.

The Paygan slowly opened his eyes, scanning the surrounding space, before sighing in resignation. “If this is truly Ushinu, the realm of the honored dead, then my tutors have much to answer for.”

“You’re not getting off that easy,” Rúna informed him, appearing at his side.

He stared at her for a moment, then looked away. “Why am I here?” he asked quietly. “You had no right to interfere with my death.”

“You gave up any claim you might have to your life when you intentionally dropped your guard,” she told him. “In fact, you surrendered your life to me. I chose to return it instead.”

The Ixian sighed once more, then returned his gaze to her. “You have no idea just how badly your act of kindness has complicated matters,” he said at last.

“I don’t care,” she said fiercely. “I’ve already lost too many people I care about to let another friend die, not when I could save them.” She pulled up a chair beside his sickbed and sat down. “Why did you do it?” she said at last.

“Why did I drop my guard, you mean?” She nodded in agreement as he suddenly had difficulty meeting her scrutiny. “You know why,” he said at last. “We Ixians do not fear our death, not so long as it has meaning. When you challenged me, I understood. You were fighting to save your people, just as you always have.” He smiled at that. “And despite all that has happened in recent months, I still find your race to be worthy of esteem.” His eyes met hers. “We both know the contest was mine any time I decided to finish it. But when the moment came…” He closed his eyes and shrugged. “… I made a different choice, instead.” The Paygan opened his eyes once more. “The wound I sustained was a mortal one, Rúna. I knew that the moment your blade struck home. By all I know, I should not be here.” He gazed at her intently. “Tell me then how I survived what should have ended me.”

“Nanotech,” she explained. “The nanites introduced into your system were able to repair the damage.”

His expression grew frigid. “I was unaware your race had perfected such technology,” he said icily. “Which means, of course, that it is yet another ‘gift’ from your long departed ancestors, via your associate Samara, I assume.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “You know Samara?”

“We’ve never met,” he said dryly, “but I am well acquainted with her… colorful history. We have extensive files regarding her, as do most races, I suspect. They would be fools not to collect information on the galaxy’s most dangerous predator.” The Paygan eyed her carefully. “I am, however, surprised to find the two of you working in concert.”

“Desperation makes for strange bedfellows,” she sighed. “Besides, we have a history of our own, I suppose. We were on a mission together a few years back.”

“The mission to Earth, you mean, aboard the Terran vessel Gyrfalcon,” he riposted, “where you learned of the Precursors, and the system you now call home.”

“And just how the hell do you know that?” Rúna demanded.

“As I said… extensive files,” he chuckled. “Among my other duties, I am still an Exploring Officer, or had you forgotten? Tasked to gather intelligence for my emperor. Once you attracted our official notice, comprehensive files were assembled regarding you as well.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said unhappily, “though I still liked it better when I was just an anonymous corporal.” She took a moment to center herself before shifting gears. “Your officers were kind enough to grant us a few minutes of privacy, but our situation hasn’t changed. Unless we can stop this, the whole damn galaxy goes up in flames.”

The Paygan nodded. “We have delayed long enough. Send them in.”

Rúna rose and went to the hatch, opening it to admit several other Ixians, as well as Ambassador Shaafvaazif. He hung towards the rear of the group, while the Paygan’s Second went to his commander’s side.

“While I am pleased to see you, Paygan, your unexpected recovery presents us with certain… complications,” he said cautiously. “Upon your apparent death, I, of course, assumed command.” He grimaced awkwardly. “Which raises the subject of who now leads the fleet. Regrettably, regulations do not cover this unusual turn of events.”

“I assume you transmitted this same question to the Emperor?” he surmised. “What was his Majesty’s reply?”

The gathered officers shared a look of embarrassment. “I regret to inform you we have not yet had a response to our query,” his Second admitted.

“So, the infamous sluggishness of Imperial bureaucracy remains as predictable as always,” the Paygan chuckled. “In that case, and given the lack of any superseding orders, I will therefore resume command of the fleet.” He paused for a moment, and then said pointedly, “You may, of course, challenge that decision. I would ask that you allow me time to fully recover from my injuries before testing our blades, however.”

“That will not be necessary,” the Second said in a rush. “I have no wish to challenge your authority.”

“In that case, I will join you on the bridge shortly. Maintain our position, and alert me if the situation changes.”

“At once, Paygan,” his Second said with a bow as he and the others exited the compartment.

He waited until the others had departed, before turning his attention to the Terran ambassador. “I fear we have little time before your leaders spring whatever trap they have planned,” he said darkly. “I assume your recommendation still stands?”

“It does, Paygan,” Genvass agreed. “We have no information regarding their plans, but given what we do know, facing them is a dangerous game. You saw what Peacemaker did to the To’uuk, and I assure you that vessel will lead their attack. Perhaps you have the strength to defeat them, but even if you do, it will be a pyrrhic victory. You can’t want that.”

“Of course not, but there are those amongst the fleet who feel otherwise, elements not entirely under my dominion.” Genvass started to speak, but he waved him off. “Oh, they accept my leadership easily enough, though mostly because should the fleet suffer disaster, it will be my head that rolls, not theirs. That being said, they are also the ones most eager for this fight. They are convinced that victory, pyrrhic or otherwise, is within their grasp. Should I attempt to restrain them, I fear they will attack of their own accord.”

“Our friends are still fighting on New Terra,” Genvass said. “All we need is just a little more time.”

The Paygan sighed, feeling the intensity of his wounds. He gave the ambassador a forlorn look.

“Time, I fear, is the one commodity I cannot control,” he said at last.