The view from the shuttle was not encouraging.

The Taisen Jit had entered Taing’zem orbit several hours earlier, hours spent coordinating with the Tsengju authorities who inhabited the planet. The ship’s crew were busy as well, loading their gear onto the small craft capable of landing on the surface. It would take several drops to bring it all down, so getting everything right was essential.

No simple thing when the ship’s crew wants you dead.

Learning the Knights had injected them with a toxin had not gone over well. The actual circumstances no longer mattered, in their eyes the Terrans had crossed a line. By mutual accord, both sides avoided one another, keeping any contact to an absolute minimum. The humans stayed in constant contact with one another, wore their suits when they slept or ventured out of the compartment, and went armed at all times. It had been a tense couple of weeks, but now that they’d arrived, they could part ways and never have to deal with one another again.

The trio rode down together on the first trip, eager to see the new campsite and get to work. The imagery from orbit showed dense jungle next to a wide section of flat terrain that looked to have been logged off. A wide river slowly meandered nearby, an absolute necessity given their needs, but something about what she was seeing left Blye feeling ill at ease.

The shuttle pilot killed the engines once they’d landed, popping the hatch before sealing himself away on the bridge. The Terrans exited the craft and set foot on the planet’s surface as Blye gazed at their new home and bit off a curse. Not only was there a delegation of Tsengju awaiting them, likely for some kind of ceremony slash formal signing, but it seemed the first refugees had arrived ahead of schedule.

Hundreds of them.

There were individuals from a dozen races; families, small children, sick and injured, bands of nascent troublemakers already forming, the desperate, the frightened, and those who had already lost all hope. Others had taken them from their ships and homes, scooping them up and then dumping them here. There were no signs of structures, other than a few ragged huts thrown together with whatever scrap they could scavenge. As they removed their helmets, her nostrils wrinkled at the stench. Sanitation was already an issue, and if they didn’t get a handle on it soon, the entire camp was ripe for some opportunistic disease to come sweeping through with a vengeance. Worst of all, however, was the glassy look in their eyes, the dull lassitude she recognized all too well.

These people were starving.

Whoever dumped them here hadn’t bothered to supply them with enough food, and by the looks of the Tsengju delegation, they’d been waiting for the Knights to deal with the problem. Mother Terra forbid any of them to step up and take charge.

“Jesus,” Amar whispered. “Is it always like this?”

“No.” Prash said wearily, “sometimes it’s worse.”

“All right,” Blye sighed, “no rest for the wicked. I’ll meet with the bureaucrats for the official handover. Prash, I want you to determine who, if anyone, is leading those refugees, and find out what their most urgent needs are. Amar, start getting that shuttle unloaded… food and medical supplies first. Questions?”

The two men shook their heads, splitting off for their respective tasks, while Blye made a beeline for the avians. By the looks of things, the sooner they were out of here, the happier they’d be. Well, that was fine with her… once they’d gotten a few things straightened out between them.

She arrived at the delegation, sketching a brief bow. “I am Chevalier Deuxième Blye Tagata, of the Knights Hospitaller clan,” she announced. “Who is in charge here?”

A brightly plumed bureaucrat stepped forward, its long neck and legs reminiscent of a heron from old Terra. “I am Facilitator Tsun Prang Gen, official representative of the Tsengju Confederation. On behalf of my government, I bid you welcome to Taing’zem. Your clan’s generosity of spirit to those in need is both renowned and, I regret to say, sorely needed in these troubled times.” He bobbed his head and long neck in a display of deference.

“Thank you, Facilitator,” Blye said politely. “As you can see,” she said, indicating the starving evacuees, “time is of the essence. I assume you have something for me to sign?”

The avian blinked at that, caught by surprise by her haste and audacity. She had the distinct impression that this was not “How Things Were Done”. As luck would have it, she also didn’t care. Tsun sputtered for a moment, then produced a standard tablet and stylus. “This is most irregular...” he began, only to be interrupted almost immediately.

Snatching the tablet, Blye scrawled out her name and shoved it back towards him. “These people are in desperate need,” she informed them. “They require food, medicine, and shelter. When can we expect delivery from your government?”

That got a reaction from the Tsengju. “We have already provided the land…” Tsun tried again, getting the same result yet again as she cut him off at the knees.

“Land that no one was using,” Blye pointed out, “with only limited transportation access, no infrastructure, and no attempt made to correct its deficiencies… though I’m certain whoever donated it will receive a hefty exemption over the next fiscal year.” The furtive glances that followed told her she’d struck a nerve. “In case it escaped your attention, these people are in the midst of starvation on your planet, Facilitator. My question to you is, what do you plan on doing about that?” She folded her arms, awaiting his answer.

The avian goggled, looking left and right for support, but suddenly it seemed his fellow bureaucrats wanted nothing to do with this particular hot potato. They sidled away on both sides, leaving him alone and in Blye’s eye line. “I… that is…” he stammered, looking for a way to escape.

The Knight wasn’t having it. Grabbing him by the upper extremity, she pointed him towards the nearest group of refugees. “Those children likely have a week before they start dying from malnourishment,” she told him, forcing him to look them dead in the eye. “Now I’m certain their early arrival caught your government by surprise, and that you’re doing your absolute best to see they’re provided for, but whatever the delay is, it needs to be addressed now, before it’s too late.” Having finished her impromptu speech, Blye turned up the charm. “Don’t you agree?” she asked sweetly, suddenly all lightness and smiles.

The Facilitator had the look of a punch-drunk fighter at the end of the tenth round. With his peers looking on, he had no position to retreat to, but Blye had left him an out that allowed him to save face. “Yes… an error of logistics…” he stammered, “... I will look into it immediately.”

“Thank you, Facilitator, that would be most appreciated,” she said sincerely. “Their very lives likely depend on it. Now if you will excuse me, I’m afraid there’s a great deal of work ahead of us.” Extricating herself from the group before he could change his mind, Blye made her way to where Prash now stood, who was observing the proceedings with a wry grin.

“Watching you squeeze the locals for more aid is nothing short of breathtaking,” he chuckled. “I don’t think he has any idea what the hell just happened.”

“Perfect,” she smiled, before switching gears. “Have you learned anything yet from our guests?”

“Some,” he admitted, before turning to the dark-furred Glevack standing beside him. His pelt was thin in places, highlighting his gaunt frame, as he gazed skeptically back at Blye. “This is Thashalch Hem… did I get that right?” he asked the alien, who gave them both a brief nod, before he continued. “Anyway, he says they arrived two or three weeks ago, he’s not exactly sure. Someone dumped them here without supplies. They’ve been foraging in the jungle for food, but with little success.”

“We cast lines in the river, hoping to land something to feed our families, but the water is bad,” the alien wheezed. “Even boiling it does little to improve the taste.”

“Damn it,” Blye cursed, “we need to test that water. If it’s contaminated…”

“I know,” Prash said unhappily. “I’ll make it a priority.”

“We need food and medicine,” Thashalch blurted out. “Many of our people are sick. We need help,” he begged them, his eyes filled with desperation.

“You’ll get it,” Blye vowed. “Prash, help Amar unload the shuttle. Let’s get them fed first, and then we can start addressing their medical needs.” She turned back to the Glevack. “If any of your people can physically assist, I would most appreciate it. If not, we’ll make do.” Somehow, she thought to herself.

“A few, perhaps,” the alien shrugged, “I will ask them.” He turned and trundled off, searching for able-bodied volunteers.

“Any idea when the rest of our contingent is due to arrive?” Prash asked once he was out of earshot.

“None,” she sighed. “Soon, I hope. Until then, we’ve got our work cut out for us. Better get started,” Blye urged, as the pair began retracing their steps back to the shuttle.

They spent the next several hours unloading the shuttles as they arrived once they’d provided the refugees with a simple meal. The Knights divided the group by species, checking their database to determine the safest meal for each alien race. Their nutritional needs varied from one to the next; what was safe for a Durzix might be deadly for a Tai-Okeeq. It complicated an already difficult situation, but they had no choice. Luckily, their clan had experience in these situations, creating ration bars to cater to most physiologies. It was a stopgap measure, but for now, it was enough.

Captain Shunaadh arrived on the last shuttle, a reunion Blye wished she could avoid. Prior to departing the Taisen Jit, they’d injected the rest of the crew with the promised antidote, with one notable exception. They’d saved their commander for last, concerned that if they inoculated everyone prior to their departure, the Bamidh traders would no longer have any incentive to keep them alive. Saving the captain for last was the only way to ensure the would-be hijackers would hold up their end of the bargain.

Blye insisted on doing it herself, with the others as far removed from the site as possible. It was still well within the realm of possibility that Shunaadh might turn on them once he’d received the antidote, so she wasn’t taking any chances. The Bamidh bared his arm as she pressed the hypo against his flesh and squeezed the trigger.

“That is it?” he demanded, rolling his sleeve back down and rubbing his flesh.

“That’s it,” she confirmed. “It will take a few hours for the antidote to completely neutralize the toxin, but by the time you’ve left Taing’zem space it will have safely broken down in your bloodstream and been expelled.” Blye returned the hypo to her medical kit before looking back up at the captain. “It should never have come to this,” she said quietly. “We dealt honestly with you. Had you simply done the same…”

“Spare me your platitudes,” he snarled. “You Terrans can waste precious time and resources on those fated to oblivion, but I intend on surviving the Yīqún. That means seizing every advantage that comes my way, without concern for petty details such as whose feet I may be trampling.” His sneer was filled with rancor, glaring at her as if she were some diseased animal.

“The only way we survive this is by working together,” she told him. “It’s what prevented the Yīqún from annihilating every living world two centuries ago.” Except Earth, she thought bitterly but kept that notion to herself.

“When this is over, we’ll see which of us is still standing,” he snapped. “But rest assured, you will pay for what you’ve done.” With that, he spun on his heel and stormed off, returning to his shuttle. Minutes later it blasted for orbit as Blye watched the craft ascend to the heavens, holding her breath in case he took his revenge right then and there. When the ship finally disappeared from sight, she let out a shaky sigh of relief.

“Any problems?” she heard behind her. Turning in surprise, she saw Amar leaning against the stacks of crates, his hand casually resting on the sidearm belted at his waist.

“No more than usual,” she shrugged. “I appreciate the backup, but now that our Bamidh friends have departed, the pistol gets put away. I don’t want to scare our charges, they’ve been through plenty as it is.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “I came to tell you Prash ran a water sample through the analyzer. It’s no wonder it smells bad. There are traces of cadmium, sulphuric acid, and cobalt, not to mention a couple of nasty microorganisms that are blooming because of the pollution.”

“Those bastards!” Blye shouted, her hands clenched in fists of sudden fury. “They put us on a toxic waste dump!”

“Prash is pretty sure there’s an abandoned mine somewhere upstream,” Amar confirmed. “Explains why they were so happy to lend us the site.”

She spent the next minute seething with rage, letting loose a string of curses that would have shocked those who knew her only as a compassionate healer. To his credit, Amar didn’t bat an eye. She suspected he’d heard worse during his time with the Valkyries. Finally, she forced herself to calm down, before taking stock of their current situation.

“All right,” she said at last, “we need to deal with this. We have water purification equipment somewhere in this pile,” she grumbled, waving her arm at the stacked crates. “We need to dig it out and get it running ASAP. Get Prash and that Glevack… Thashalch,” she continued, dredging up his name, “and anybody else that can help. Tell them no more drinking the river water until we can start purification.”

“I’m on it,” he nodded. “Anything else?”

Sighing, she reached for her medkit. “This is going to be an all-nighter, and unless we get more help soon, tomorrow isn’t looking any better. I hate doing this, but… ten milligrams of Dexedrine for each of us. Just enough to get us over this first hurdle.”

“Won’t be the first time I’ve dipped into the goodie bag,” he told her. “We’ll handle it.”

“Just don’t make it a habit,” she warned, “we’ve got enough on our plate as it is.”