Prash, Amar, and Velsa stood beside the operating table as Blye tried to make herself comfortable, all of them already masked and gloved. Kaihautu Yugha, along with one of his officers, were crowded into the operating theater as well, though they had eschewed any outward signs of maintaining a sterile field. At least they weren’t crowding the table, which was a minor comfort, but while Terrans and Aggaaddub were incapable of infecting one another, who knew what pathogens they’d brought in with them as hitchhikers? With any luck, her fellow Knights had sprayed them down with disinfectant, but she wasn’t holding her breath.

As if things weren't risky enough already.

Prash brought over their portable CT scanner while Amar carefully locked her head into place with a surgical halo. A twitch or a sneeze under these conditions would have dire consequences, so the metal halo frame held her skull in position with a series of adjustable screws. It was not a pleasant sensation, even though she knew far worse ones were coming.

Velsa was busy setting up the IV, swabbing her arm as she inserted the needle and taping it down, before moving onto the drainage bag attached to the catheter. Blye wanted to look away, her face flushing with embarrassment. Despite her years of medical training, her knowledge that this was merely another normal aspect of surgery, the intimate nature of the device made her far more self-conscious than the thought of having a chunk of skull removed. It probably said something about her priorities, but she wasn’t interested in running down that stray thought just now.

Not with what she was about to undergo.

Finishing with the halo, Amar leaned in. “Do you need me to make any final adjustments?” he asked.

“... it’s fine,” she said through gritted teeth. In fact it was painful as hell, but it was also necessary. Besides, it was doubtful any fiddling with the device would improve her situation.

That done, Prash began scanning her skull for the procedure, taking his time in order to be thorough… so much, in fact, the Kaihautu grew visibly irritated at the delay. Her fellow Knights and Velsa remained unperturbed, however, refusing to budge with her safety unless he physically intervened. The alien commander grumbled but said nothing.

Something soft and cool touched the back of her neck, as she felt gentle fingers apply ointment to her skin. “Lidocaine,” Prash explained, as if she hadn’t figured that out already herself, “to numb you for the occipital block.”

“I have actually done this before,” Blye snapped, angry and frustrated at being used as a guinea pig and treated like some ignorant novice. His hand pulled back, as the silence of abashed shame filled the room. Wincing once more, she let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry,” she mumbled in apology, “it’s just my nerves talking.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” he answered, “curse as much as you want.”

The fact they were being so damned understanding about her plight only irritated her further, forcing her to clamp down hard on her strained emotions. She needed to focus, to maintain her professional detachment. Letting her fears take over now was the surest route to disaster.

The Lidocaine soon did its job, numbing the area surrounding the base of her skull. “Blye, we’re ready to inject you for the nerve block,” Prash explained.

“Go ahead,” she answered, as she started concentrating on her breathing to try and relax… as much as was possible, given the circumstances, at least.

“Fifteen milligrams bupivacaine,” he ordered, before she felt pressure on the left and then the right sides of her C1 vertebra, as he blocked the occipital nerves with the injection. Within just a few minutes, the entire back of her skull and neck were completely without sensation.

“Okay, Blye… it’s time,” Prash told her. “We’ll start the IV drip, and when you regain consciousness, the worst of it should be over. Are you ready?”

“Ready,” she told him, even though she was anything but. “Worst of it” her ass. Sure, she’d sleep through the part where they sawed opened her fucking skull, but that still left the segment where they started digging around in her brain. She wanted to scream, she wanted to escape, she wanted to get the fuck out, but in the end, she did none of those things.

Instead, she prayed.

Mother Terra, I’m scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Please help me. I know the only time I pray is when I'm afraid, but I promise to do better. Just please get me through this. Don’t let me become some brain-damaged husk of flesh.

And if you can’t, then please… at least make it quick.

“... begin dexmedetomidine infusion,” she heard Prash tell Velsa. “Blye, count backward from one hundred.”

“... One hundred… ninety-nine… ninety-eight… ninety…”

And then darkness.

Coming back out from under anesthesia was always a disorienting process. At first, everything feels dreamlike and slightly surreal. Am I awake, or still unconscious? you ask yourself, though even as you’re probing you begin to realize that it’s a question no dreamer ever considers, therefore you must be awake. But it still feels off, like you’re wrapped in clouds of cotton, as your body flushes the last dregs of sedatives from your brain. It takes time.

But eventually, your awareness sharpens as you take in your surroundings. Things slowly come into focus now that you’re fully cognizant. Then comes a moment of relief, a release of long-held breath, as you finally accept that you didn’t die on the table after all. Normally, it was an occasion to rejoice and cherish.

For her… it meant the nightmare was just getting started.

“Blye, are you awake?” Amar asked her.

“...yeah,” she answered groggily, “I’m here.”

“Can you tell me your name?” he continued, checking her memory.

She sighed, already tiring of this game, but knowing it had to be done. “Chevalier Deuxième Blye Tagata,” she recited, “appointed administrator of the refugee camp on the Tsengju Confederation planet Taing’zem.”

“Very good,” he said with obvious relief. “Are you in any pain? Nausea? Difficulty in motor function or mental recall?”

Running through a quick mental checklist, she could cross off most of those concerns. “Still woozy from the meds, but I’m okay,” Blye informed him. “How are my vitals?”

“Heart rate and BP are both slightly elevated, but well within acceptable limits,” he informed her. “So far, you’re doing very well.”

“And the craniectomy?” she pressed him, her nose detecting residual traces of scorched hydroxyapatite, the calcium mineral that gave human bone its strength. “Any complications?” The nerve blocks were still in place, and she felt nothing.

This time Prash answered. “Completely textbook,” he informed her, the sound of him suddenly breathing easier equally apparent. “I’ve exposed the visual cortex, and there’s no sign of trauma or infection. So far, so good,” he assured her.

“Enough talk,” the Kaihautu rumbled, speaking for the first time. “Implant the device.”

There was a pause, and while the only one she could actually see was Velsa, her rigid and inscrutable face still conveyed a sense of dread. They’d focused so diligently on each step of the procedure itself, they’d allowed themselves to overlook its ultimate goal.

“... I’m sorry, Blye,” Prash whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. The tortured anguish in his voice was heart-wrenching.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, gamely putting on a brave front, “I’ll be fine. I trust all of you to see me safely through.”

The Kaihautu glared at them, his patience rapidly wearing thin. Bowing to the inevitable, Prash said, “The device, Amar.”

She heard the case being opened, the scrape of metal against metal as it was removed and handed over. “Blye, I need you to tell me everything you experience,” Prash explained, “no matter how insignificant it might seem. This device ties into the visual cortex at multiple points, and if we get any of them wrong…”

His voice trailed off, not wishing to inflict the rest on her, though she was perfectly capable of filling in the blanks for herself. She felt liquid dripping down her neck, the disinfectant and nutrient bath designed to protect her exposed brain tissue. She tried to stay calm, to focus on her breathing, anything… but all she could feel was gut-clenching terror.

“... Ready,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Making the first connection… now,” he told her, as a flash of light exploded in her field of view, startling her. Her body flinched at the image, immediately drawing their attention.

“What did you see?” Amar asked her.

“A flash of light,” she mumbled, “like… a distant ship detonating in the dark,” trying to interpret what she’d seen into something they might grasp. “It only lasted for a moment.”

“Okay,” Prash said with a sigh of relief, “that’s good. We want the least invasive nerve clusters we can find so that one sounds promising. We’ll mark it as Site 1-Alpha.”

Once again she had to bite back the urge to remind them she knew all this, that she had far more experience than they did, only to be reminded of something a professor of hers had once shared: “Knights,” he said with a chuckle, “make the worst patients”. The few times she’d had to treat a fellow Knight had borne out that observation. The blend of total confidence in one’s abilities, paired with an utter lack of control, was a dangerous combination indeed. So she remained silent, fighting to quell the irritation she felt, recognizing it as yet another manifestation of her fears.

“Okay… first site is locked in,” Prash continued, “moving on to the next.” There was a pause as he repositioned his efforts, before he spoke up once more. “Located Site 1-Beta. Making the connection… now.”

Blye gasped as her surroundings vanished, replaced by the interior of a ship making a hard burn. Glancing about, she saw she was strapped into a crash couch with Prash at her side, the ship shuddering as it strained its physical limits. Her body was suddenly flung against the restraints, only to be thrown back against the couch a moment later. She gripped the handholds in terror as the g-forces slammed into her body…

… and then, just as quickly as it had appeared it faded from view, returning her to surgery.

“What?” Prash asked in alarm, “What did you see?”

“A visual memory,” she realized. “I was back on…”

She bit down hard, stopping herself in the nick of time. The Troika might not be aware of her participation in the mission to Earth; the Kaihautu didn’t act as if he recognized her, but she was equally certain they had to know the name of the ship. She’d been a hairsbreadth away from saying its name. Maybe she was just being overly paranoid, but the consequences of saying the name Gyrfalcon wasn’t something she wanted to test.

“... on the Peregrine, when we were escaping the attack on Freya,” she improvised, praying no one had noticed her stumble.

There was a pregnant pause, as all three Terrans glared at the Aggaaddub, the race responsible for the attack. A lot of good people died that day, and the scales were still unbalanced. Someday, she vowed.

“Right… the Peregrine,” Prash answered, recovering quickly. There had been a lot of ships in the system when they’d attacked, it being shortly after Rendezvous, and it was unlikely the Troika had a complete roster of names. She’d chosen a related name for her fictitious vessel, and it was obvious he recognized her gambit for what it was.

A rumble of laughter came from the Kaihautu. “A most glorious day,” he boasted, ignoring the daggers being fired his way from the Knights. “Our only mistake,” he sneered, “was not finishing the job.”

“... do you want this done or not?” Prash seethed, his emotions pushed to the breaking point.

“Do not test me, Terran,” the alien commander growled. “Be grateful I even allowed you to perform the procedure, instead of one of my own.” He cocked his head, considering that. “Though I will grant the odds of success fell somewhat dramatically, if we implanted the device.”

“I knew it wasn’t out of altruism, Kaihautu Yugha,” Prash smoldered, “but if you could refrain from intentionally antagonizing the surgical team while her fucking brain is exposed, we would be most appreciative.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue like poisoned honey with every word.

The reptilian chuckled once again but refrained from offending them further. Prash took a few calming breaths while Amara mopped his forehead before resuming their efforts. “All right,” he said finally, once he had himself back under control., “mark that site as 1-Beta. Moving on…”

The surgery dragged on for hours, testing multiple sites. Twice she’d fallen asleep, only to be forced back awake by a shot of chemical stimulants. Her reactions varied, from none at all to massive blinding visions that threatened to overload her optic nerve. There were a few tense moments, times when her body reacted badly to what it was being put through, but the team’s skill and professionalism managed to prevent outright tragedy.

Throughout the procedure, the Kaihautu watched them with a practiced predator’s eye, seeing everything and filing it away for future reference.

They narrowed down the list, choosing the optimal sites to make the permanent connections. Working with careful deliberation they hard-wired the neural-optical interface directly into her brain, testing the linkages. As she reported unobstructed vision from the device’s lenses, the team breathed a heavy sigh of relief, powering the device down as they put her back under prior to closing up her skull. With that done, they wheeled her while she slept to Recovery.

It was some hours later when she regained consciousness. Blye listened to her heartbeat, strong and steady, the sound of her breathing. Amazingly, she’d survived. Lifting her hand, she tried to probe where the device was now attached, only to have her appendage intercepted.

“You’re awake,” Prash said with obvious relief. “We were starting to worry.”

“Give me the highlights,” she rasped, her throat parched. They placed a straw against her lips as she drank greedily, taking in some much-needed hydration.

“I think the worst is behind us,” he informed her. “Your vitals are strong, and there’s no sign of infection. We’ve closed you up, though it's a temporary measure. I don’t want to risk anything more permanent until we know it’s safe.”

“Smart,” she nodded in approval, squeezing his hand. “I’m proud of you… of all of you.”

“I never, ever, want to do that again,” he said fervently, finally letting down his guard.

“I know the feeling,” she said wryly. “Where’s Amar? I want to thank him as well.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Err… I’m holding your hand,” the former Valkyrie answered, with obvious confusion in his voice.

Blye froze.

“What’s wrong?” Prash asked her.

A single tear slid down her cheek.

“... I’m blind,” she whispered.