A quiet pall of dread hung over the camp as twilight gradually settled into darkness. With over ten thousand inhabitants, there was a constant buzz of activity and conversation that never entirely went away, but now an eerie silence seemed to permeate the settlement. Blye woke during the night, her sleep broken and restless, making her way to the clinic’s entrance as she listened to the gentle sound of the rain, shivering in the dark while she wrestled with the hefty burden the Spata’s note had placed upon her shoulders.

There was a part of her that had sighed in relief when she realized the Ixian was preparing to stand up against the Aggaaddub threat. She’d been carrying the weight for so long, fighting what seemed to be an unwinnable battle by herself that the thought of handing it off to another left her on the brink of tears. She just wanted it to be over, to lie down and rest and not think about how every decision she made affected so many innocent lives.

That siren’s song was so sweet, so tempting.

With a heavy sigh, Blye turned away, leaning on her staff as she headed back to her cot. What people often forgot was that the sirens of myth were evil creatures, using their hypnotic melodies to lure the unwary to their deaths. If she did as he asked, if she hid away while he fought the battle that was rightfully hers, Spata Zhai and the rest of the camp would suffer the same fate. She couldn’t let that happen, not while there was still a chance she could alter Fate’s course.

Blye lay in the darkness, staring at nothing, seeing nothing, as she made her choice.

The distant sound of an approaching shuttle found the Knights finishing their midday rounds. There’d been a questioning silence, an unspoken tension that permeated the air as Prash and Amar awaited her orders. Instead, she’d focused on the familiar, maintaining their daily routine as if this were just another ordinary day. As the hours dragged on they hovered nearby, their apprehension ratcheting to a fever pitch as they silently pleaded with her to even acknowledge the situation they now found themselves in. Instead, she said nothing, her only orders being to treat their patients, and see that the camp was properly looked after.

But as the engines grew louder, she could ignore her decision no longer. “It seems we have incoming guests,” she told them, far more calmly than she felt. “Best we stand ready to greet them upon their arrival.”

“Are you sure that’s… wise?” Prash asked pointedly. With Velsa close at hand, it was all he dared say.

“As certain as I am about anything,” she said with a weary smile, trying to make light. She could only imagine the desperate looks the two men must have been shooting back and forth, while she made her way across the clinic and began donning rain gear.

“Maybe we should wait,” Amar suggested, as if it were the most rational option available. “What if they’re not here for you?”

“Then it would be a first,” she quipped, adjusting her poncho and grasping her staff. “Come. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

There was a pause as the two men wrestled with their conscience before they too readied themselves for the inclement weather… and whatever else that lay in store. Blye felt Velsa’s familiar presence as she offered her arm for support, leading her out into the courtyard as the shuttle’s engines grew in pitch. They were getting close now, on final approach, and Blye tried desperately to quiet the nervous flutter in her stomach as she awaited the Kaihautu’s appearance.

Moments later, she sensed the presence of another at her side, opposite the Ksot nurse. “I am surprised to see you this day,” Spata Zhai murmured. “I would have thought your duties far too pressing.”

Just as with her fellow Knights, there was much they couldn’t say aloud. He was asking why she hadn’t heeded his warning and stayed away. It was an important question, one worthy of an honest answer.

Turning to face him, Blye said softly, “... My place is here.”

There was a moment of silence as he digested that. “So it is,” he agreed at last, bowing to the inevitable. He took her hand and pressed it to his chest, much like the formal salute the Ixians used. “Knowing you has been a great honor, Chevalier Tagata,” he said stiffly, as she sensed some alien formality being observed she neither knew nor understood.

“And you, Spata Zhai,” she answered, as he gave her hand one last squeeze before releasing her and moving to stand by her side. There was nothing else to be said. Whatever plans he had laid would take place with or without her, all she could do was stand ready and hope for the best.

Fine grit and dust pelted them as the thrusters reached a crescendo as the craft set down on its landing gear, the turbines slowly winding down as the pilot killed the engines. The airlock hatch cycled open as the troop ramp slammed into the mud, tensing as she waited for the Aggaaddub commander to disembark.

But it was Amar’s horrified whisper, “Holy Mother Terra…. what is that?” that she realized just how badly the script had gone off-kilter.

“What? What do you see?” she whispered back frantically.

“There’s someone with the Kaihautu,” he tried to explain, “... or some thing.”

“It’s an abomination,” Spata Zhai hissed, “an experiment gone wrong.”

“... a Protean? Here?” she said in shock. After the mission to Earth and her experience with Samara, she’d made a point to learn all she could about the Protean Clan and the ones whose surgeries and gene therapies had gone awry. Many of the clan’s forsaken suffered from mutations that left them as little more than helpless lumps of protoplasm, but they were deserving of their compassion, not disgust.

“That’s no Protean,” Prash said in a strangled voice. “I don’t know what it is.”

Blye’s head whipped back and forth, searching desperately for answers, until Velsa gripped her arm tight and said hoarsely, “It’s as if a Terran and Aggaaddub… mated,” her voice filled with revulsion.

“But that’s not… that’s not possible,” she said in disbelief.

“Whatever that thing is, it’s not the product of mere procreation,” the Spata sneered. “That creature was born in an Aggaaddub laboratory, though I shudder to think what those involved must have suffered,” his tones now softening, tinged with a hint of anguish.

“Will someone please tell me what you’re talking about?” Blye all but shouted in frustration.

“I’m not sure I can,” Prash answered, “but…” Taking a deep breath, he tried once more. “It almost looks like an Aggaaddub at first glance… tall, scaly… but when you look closer, the size and proportions are all wrong. The scales are patchy, even sickly looking, while the face is almost… human.” He sounded nauseous, as if he were moments away from vomiting. “The limbs, some of the torso… Jesus… I’d swear they took a Terran prisoner and one of their own and… carved them up.” He fought desperately to hold on, before saying, “Blye… that thing is a Frankenstein.”

The images that word conjured up flashed through her mind like a whirlwind… and as a physician, they were brutally graphic. Humanity had lost much of its history and lore following the destruction of Earth, but the ancient fable of science gone mad, of grave robbers and body horror, the cautionary tale that warned some things were not meant for mortal man to know, still held sway in the dark recesses of the human soul. That the Troika would even attempt such an experiment, let alone succeed…

“Holy Mother Terra,” Blye whispered, as she realized the monstrosity’s purpose. “They’re using that creature to bypass us. They’re going to try to interface with Aleph directly.”

Prash let out a string of muffled curses, while Spata Zhai’s sharp intake of breath betrayed his grasp of what she was saying. “Can they do it?” he demanded, her mind whirling at the implications.

“I don’t know,” she said at last, “even with a DNA sample, I’m not sure I could tell you. We have no idea what Aleph was looking for when he recognized our genetic profile. If our theory is right, if we are descended from the Precursors in some way, then yes… it’s possible whatever the Aggaaddub cooked up might fool the sensors. But it’s equally possible it won’t, and if that happens…”

“What?” the Ixian insisted. “What will happen?”

Blye just shook her head. “Nothing good, I suspect.”

“Either way,” Amar warned them, “I believe we’ve just outlived our usefulness. We are now officially loose ends waiting to be dealt with.”

“He’ll want to make sure,” Blye piped up, thinking furiously. “Until it’s been tested, he won’t kill the goose that lays the golden eggs. Not until he knows if it works.”

“Then we have little time,” Spata Zhai said grimly as the Aggaaddub contingent approached them. “Stay safe, all of you… and be ready for whatever comes.”

“And what do we have here?” Kaihautu Yugha laughed, though there was no humor to be found in his words, merely the cutting, caustic edge of a poisoned blade. “A welcoming committee, come to greet us. How wonderfully courteous of you.”

“Kaihautu,” Blye said politely, bowing her head.

“Forgive me, where are my manners?” he chortled, the sneer in his voice hidden no longer. “Allow me to introduce a long-lost relation of yours. Chevalier Tagata, meet Srijan.”

Now more than ever, Blye cursed her forced blindness. She desperately wanted to see this creature the others had described for herself. “Welcome to Taing’zem,” she said, maintaining the illusion of courtesy.

“... Terrans,” the creature rasped, its voice like broken glass dragged across a violin’s strings. “May I kill them?” it begged its master.

“Not just yet,” the alien commander replied, showing genuine amusement for the first time since his arrival. “No, I believe we have some business to attend to first.”

A feeling of despair washed over her, as all her worst fears were confirmed. “I assume you wish to visit the vault,” she said evenly, clamping down hard on her emotions.

“You assume correctly,” he responded. “There’s an… experiment, I wish to run.”

The universe seemed to freeze, coming to a grinding halt as she examined her options. She could refuse, which would trigger an immediate battle right here, one they were ill-equipped to fight. If she went with him, however, that would likely only delay the inevitable by a span of minutes. Perhaps an hour, if things went especially well, but the ultimate result would be the same, her face down in the mud with a bullet hole in the back of her head. The others would suffer the same fate, and as for the refugees… perhaps he would ignore them, though that seemed doubtful. More probably, he would turn his warriors loose on the camp, allowing them to indulge themselves as they gunned down the helpless civilians for sport. Or perhaps he might order the ship in orbit to wipe the ground clean with its superior weapons, but no matter what option he chose, the people she had sworn to protect would likely perish at his hand.

There had to be a way to stop it. There had to… only she didn’t know how that would even be possible. The one thing she did know, however, was that this was neither the time nor place to make her move. If she struck now, the guards would mow them down in seconds.

Pick your moment, Blye cautioned herself, and don’t hesitate when it comes.

An eerie sense of calm came over her as she decided, an almost Zen-like state her old master of arms would have lauded. “Shall we proceed then, Kaihautu?” she asked him, nudging Velsa forward while frantically motioning the others to remain behind. It was bad enough to be taking the Ksot nurse down into that pit, but she literally could not do this alone. Her caretaker stumbled, catching herself only with Blye’s help, before swallowing her fear and clutching onto her arm with a death grip as they headed for the vault. The Aggaaddub commander seemed surprised by her actions, caught off guard by the course of events. Perhaps he’d expected her to balk, to refuse his command, but he recovered quickly, proceeding towards the Precursor site with the creature in tow.

The Kaihautu blathered away at her, already certain of his victory, but she ignored all of it. He was speaking simply to hear himself talk, bursting at the seams with pride and vainglory, none of which required a response from her. Quite the opposite; if she had responded, he might have taken notice of her or her dearth of companions. The Spata certainly had contingency plans in place… his note had all but said so… even if she had no knowledge of what they might be. But whatever they were, he’d need room to maneuver, and that wouldn’t be possible in Aleph’s underground chamber. Her fellow Knights she’d wanted kept safe as well. She owed them that. Not that anywhere in the camp was “safe”, but there were varying degrees of shelter to be found here… and none at all where she was headed.

The creature, unlike its master, said nothing, but Blye could feel the heat of its gaze as it glared at her with murderous intent. Velsa hid from it, using her as a shield, not that she blamed the young nurse. From the others' description, it must look hideous, but however gruesome its appearance, that paled in comparison to the seething naked hatred she felt coming off it in angry waves. It didn’t take a genius to understand why. Was it Terran… or Aggaaddub? What memories did it retain from its donors? Where were its loyalties? At first glance, it seemed obvious that it was sworn to the Troika, but was it possible there was some glimmer of Terran allegiance in its makeup as well? And what about its masters? As hideous as Prash and the others found it to be, did the Aggaaddub view it as anything other than a necessary tool? Were they as repulsed by its appearance as her own people were?

And what about Srijan itself? Did it hate its own existence as well? And if so, could she exploit that somehow?

Questions she must answer soon, as their brief journey came to an end. The sudden halt to the rain, coupled with the smooth surface beneath her feet, announced their arrival at the vault itself. Leaning on her staff, she made her way to the elevator’s controls, pausing to prick her thumb with the small blade she carried for this very purpose. Smearing her blood on the console, the elevator started its descent, transporting her down to the ancient computer for what was likely to be the very last time.