Taking over the enemy camp wasn’t quite the walkover they’d hoped for. While they seized most of the key strongholds without firing a shot, there was no way that hundreds of Terrans overrunning their base would go completely unnoticed. The Valkyries prioritized securing the weapons and ammunition, plus communications and their remaining vehicles, but several fairly nasty firefights broke out before they could take complete control. Even then, many of the POW’s refused to accept their new status, especially among the Zaitai.

Their attempts to overthrow the Terran guards were put down quickly, and without mercy.

Despite their incredible victory, the Valkyries were close to the breaking point. They desperately need food, water, medical attention, and most of all, rest. Still outnumbered by the enemy, they herded the POWs at bayonet point up against a natural rock wall. The Terrans then surrounded them on the remaining three sides, before explaining the rules: if there were any attempts at all to attack their jailers or try to escape, they would open fire on the crowd and gun down both innocent and guilty alike until it stopped.

All further acts of rebellion ceased immediately.

Their biggest threat now dealt with; they turned their attention to the ships in orbit. Colonel Holme sent them a tersely worded message: that they were now in control of their mercenaries and that they would guarantee their wellbeing, but only if said warships backed the fuck off. Any efforts to land additional forces, attack Fiddlers’ Green, or attempt a rescue would be met with swift and bloody reprisals against their captives. At first, the officers in orbit refused to give credence to his threats, believing them to be a ruse.

As luck would have it, they had a solution to that.

“Am I allowed to ask where I am being taken?” Paygan Xeing inquired as they led him to the communications center, “Or will you simply execute me once I am out of sight?”

“The colonel just wants to talk to you,” Rúna explained, “and no one is being executed today that I’m aware of.” The rest of the squad formed a cordon around the prisoner, with Kai holding back and letting her take the lead, given her unusual relationship with the alien commander.

“Indeed? I would find comfort in your assurances, if they did not so directly contradict the rather explicit orders given us at gunpoint.”

“What else could we do?” she demanded. “You were the one telling us to surrender or die.”

The Paygan grimaced. “I regret that, Corporal, but I had no choice.”

“Yeah, well… neither do we,” she fired back. The Ixi warrior inclined his head, conceding her point, but said nothing else. Truth be told, she wasn’t really up for an extended conversation either.

Entering the small prefab building, they found the colonel waiting for them. His uniform was stained with blood, none of which appeared to be his own. “Paygan, we meet again,” he said with a terse bow. “My apologies for the circumstances.”

“Colonel,” the Ixi replied, sketching an abridged bow of his own. “Forgive me if I do not congratulate you on your victory.”

“Of course,” he answered politely. “Allow me to come straight to the point. We have been in communication with your ships in orbit, explaining to them your… change in status. I’m afraid, however, that they do not believe me. Unless someone convinces them otherwise, I suspect that soon they will begin firing on our position.” He shrugged. “Obviously, neither of us wants that.”

“Indeed not,” the Paygan said sourly. “I assume, then, that you wish for me to speak to them on your behalf.”

“I would prefer you spoke on your own behalf,” he informed him. “I need a go-between, not a puppet.”

“How can you be certain I will not betray you, if given this opportunity?” he pressed him. “Despite your present position of power over us, we are still enemies.”

“Oh, I expect you’ll try,” he said affably. “I would if our positions were reversed. That being said, any message you pass on to your compatriots will be on a ten-second delay, allowing us plenty of time to keep you from passing on any information. We’ll also be watching for any coded words or phrases; in case you were thinking along those lines.”

“I see,” the Ixi said quietly, digesting that bit of information. “And what is it exactly you envisage me telling them?”

“Only the truth,” he replied, holding up his hands. “That we captured your forces and are holding you prisoner, and that any attempt to attack us from orbit will annihilate your people right alongside ours.”

“And that is all you ask of me?” he insisted, still suspicious.

“For now,” the colonel nodded. “Afterwards, if there is an afterwards, there’s another matter I’d like to discuss, but let’s deal with what’s in front of us first.”

The Paygan was silent for some time, mulling over his decision. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “I will act as your intermediary,” he said at last, “with the understanding that I am doing this solely to guarantee the wellbeing of my warriors and our allies.”

“So noted,” the colonel agreed, stepping aside and gesturing to the comms set. “The transmitter is yours.”

Stepping forward, the Ixi commander pressed a button and spoke. “This is Paygan Kuosha Xeing, speaking from the surface for Navxoda Ashhaz Zaingxu, commanding the Ixi warship Shining Blade.”

There was a long pause before someone responded, an image of an older Ixi warrior appearing on the screen. “Prove you are who you claim to be,” the alien demanded.

“Do your eyes deceive you, Navxoda?” he asked lightly. “But if it is proof that you seek, the last time we spoke you called me an ignorant grub worm, while I characterized you as an over-bred, pampered grimalkin.”

Rúna shot a questioning glance to the sergeant. “Smack talk,” Kai shrugged.

“Oh,” she said softly.

The captain’s image took on a grave expression. “Do you speak under duress, Paygan?” he asked him.

“No, my words are my own,” the Ixi answered. “But the Terran commander speaks truly. He and his forces have indeed… captured us.” He looked away, barely able to get out the words.

The captain’s response was immediate. Sucking air through his teeth, he hissed, “If this is true, it will displease our clients,” he said darkly.

“This I know, all too well,” the Paygan answered. “Regretfully, that does not alter the truth. They have allowed me to speak with you in order to deliver this message: that should you attack the Terran forces from orbit, you will attack us as well. It would be impossible to strike one without hitting the other.”

“I see.” Suddenly, his face was a mask. “I will pass your warning to the other Navxoda… and to our clients as well.”

“I thank you, old friend,” he said with a deep bow.

“Perhaps you should not,” the ship captain replied. “For I fear our clients will demand that we fulfill our contract to the letter, regardless of any… irregularities.”

The Paygan froze as the two aliens stared silently at one another, before the Ixi leader bowed once more. “I understand,” he whispered. “Thank you, for your counsel.”

“I owed you that,” the Navxoda answered. “I only regret that I cannot do more.”

“It is enough,” the Ixi leader smiled. “Until the stars grow cold, my friend.”

“Until then,” the captain answered before signing off.

The colonel had watched the exchange closely and now turned and faced the Paygan. “He just tried to warn you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” the alien said quietly.

Holme pinched the bridge of his nose. “God damn it all to hell,” he swore.

“What?” Rúna insisted, staring at both of them. “What just happened?”

“They’ve checkmated us,” the colonel scowled. “The Paygan explained we’d taken them as hostages, only for the captain to say the Troika still wants us dead and will probably shoot the hostages just to get to us.” He cocked his head, regarding the Ixi warrior. “Isn’t that right?”

“I regret to say that it is,” he concurred. “I am sorry.”

“No... no way,” Rúna snarled, glaring at them both. “After everything we’ve been through, all the brothers and sisters we’ll never see again, that even after pulling a victory out of our ass at the last fucking minute, we still lost?” The colonel and the Paygan merely stood there, silently acknowledging the truth of her outburst, only enraging her further. “Well, fuck that! There must be something!” Crossing the short distance between them, she confronted her commanding officer, jabbing his chest with her finger. “You promised us!” she howled, “You swore we wouldn’t die here in vain, that this was where we’d turn it all around! Do something!” she begged him.

Colonel Holme ignored her massive breach of etiquette, instead folding his hand over hers. “I haven’t given up,” he told her, “but I won’t lie, the odds are growing longer every minute. That being said, there might still be a card or two left to play,” he said cryptically, before turning back to the Paygan. “Once we return you to the others, I imagine you will tell them what you’ve learned?” he asked.

“Of course,” the alien nodded.

“And just how do you think they will respond?” he inquired.

Now it was the Paygan’s turn to hiss through his teeth. “I do not know,” he admitted. “Not well, that much is certain. Some will refuse to believe the Troika could do this, while others will be convinced the only path to their survival lies in destroying you, regardless of the cost.”

“They could be right,” Holme reluctantly agreed, “if they can manage.it. But whatever happens, you telling them the truth will set off a bomb. Many will die on both sides; your people, and mine.”

The Paygan eyed him curiously. “Just what are you proposing, colonel?”

An odd look played over his face. “There’s an ancient story, from our homeworld,” he told him, “about a group of warriors walking along a trail.”

Kai and Rúna stared at each other in confusion, as the Ixi commander gestured, “Go on.”

“Well,” he continued, “the first warrior looks to his friend and asks, ‘What’s the punishment for being late?’ His friend shrugs and says, ‘Death, of course’. The first warrior nods, and then a little further down the trail he asks, ‘So, what’s the punishment for mutiny?’ His friend looks at him curiously, and then answers, ‘Death for that crime as well’.”

“A curious tale,” the Paygan said politely, “but I fail to grasp its meaning.”

“Because I’m not finished,” the colonel smiled. “So the second warrior finally turns to his friends and says, ‘Why are you asking me these questions?’ His friend sighs, and tells him, ‘We’re late’.”

The alien blinked in surprise, and then suddenly threw back his head and laughed out loud. “Marvelous!” he chortled. “A clever witticism indeed. I look forward to sharing it.”

“I didn’t tell you that yarn just to entertain you, Paygan,” Holme said carefully.

All traces of humor disappeared. “I know all too well that you did not,” the Ixi commander replied, “but what you are suggesting is impossible.”

“Is it?” the colonel asked.

“It is,” he reiterated. “You imply that our options have dwindled to a binary set: remain as we are, and possibly die at the hands of the Troika, or else join in common cause with you and cross swords with them. While I understand well the offer you lay before me, I fear you do not.”

“I beg your pardon?” Holme looked irritated at his response.

“I meant no disrespect, colonel,” he answered quickly, “but I doubt you have considered all the implications of what you propose. At this moment, the only thing preventing the Troika from ordering Shining Blade and the other ships to fire on this position is our contract with them. Remove that, and there is nothing stopping them.”

“Then what’s left for us?” Colonel Holme asked him, spreading his hands wide. “As the corporal put so eloquently,” he reminded him, nodding at Rúna, “we’ve come too far to simply give up now. I refuse to believe there isn’t a solution that both of us can accept.”

“I think you ask too much of the universe, colonel,” the alien said with regret. “In my experience, I have found joyful endings to be rare indeed.”

“Fine, then… you suggest something,” the colonel challenged him. “Unless you’d rather sit here meekly until the end, like a beast awaiting the butcher.”

The Paygan’s eyes flashed with anger. “Others have died on my blade for lesser words, Terran. Mind your tongue.”

“No offense, but at the moment you don’t seem to have a blade,” Holme pointed out, “and if you think your threats scare me, then you don’t know my kind at all.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I stand by my words. Either offer your own solution, since you don’t like mine, or we can sit here, and all die together.”

“Foolish Terran,” he spat, “how can your kind have not learned this simple truth: no one crosses the Troika. They have no peers, no rivals. They stand alone, unchallenged.”

“That’s… not exactly true,” Rúna said cautiously, interrupting him.

The Paygan glared at her. “And just who is this mysterious contender?” he demanded, his hands on his hips.

“The Oivu,” she answered.

“The Oivu? Ha!” he sneered. “Mere merchants, nothing more. Their ships are not even armed.”

“Which should tell you something right there,” the colonel pointed out, “considering how dangerous this corner of space is.”

The alien paused, considering that. “Very well, I will grant you they travel this region of space unmolested, even by the Troika,” he admitted begrudgingly, “but if you are hoping they will save us, then you are an even greater simpleton than I imagined. They do not involve themselves in the affairs of others, and if you are hoping to buy ships or weapons, anything they provide does not come cheaply.”

Holme turned to Rúna. “I’m afraid he has a point.”

The young corporal stepped forward. “Tell me something, Paygan… does anybody actually like the Troika?”

“To like or dislike them is immaterial,” he retorted with a wave of his hand. “We respect their power.”

“Please, just answer the question,” she pressed him.

He glanced down at the blade still belted at her hip. “Very well,” he acceded. “No, corporal, we do not care for the Troika, and I can think of no race that does. There are sycophants aplenty to be certain, parasites hoping to earn their favor, but even they secretly detest them. They are capricious and arrogant, viciously striking anyone they suspect of rising above their station. We have chafed at their dominance for millennia, but nothing changes. They remain powerful, and we remain weak.”

The colonel looked at her curiously. “What are you getting at, corporal?”

He wasn’t alone. The others in the room were all staring at her as well. Rúna blushed at the sudden attention, before swallowing and forging ahead. “Two hundred years ago, every race in the known galaxy banded together to fight the Yīqún. Even us lowly Terrans, and we paid a heavy price for it.” The humans in the room bowed their heads in remembrance, while she and Kai shared a knowing look. “My point is, why can’t we do it again? If everybody hates the Troika, why not form a new Alliance, one to fight the biggest assholes in the Perseus Arm?”

“Because the Troika would never allow it,” the Ixi leader sighed. “Any attempt to do so would be dealt with swiftly and surely.”

“Even if the Oivu were the ones broadcasting the message?” she wondered aloud.

His brow furrowed in concentration. “I… do not know,” he said at last. “What you are suggesting... it is unheard of. The very notion flies in the face of every convention I know.” He pondered the idea, turning it over in his mind, before finally shaking his head. “Besides, even if it were possible, what the Oivu would charge for such a service would be astronomical. I doubt any race could meet their price.”

Rúna glanced over at the colonel. “What if one could?”