Fire Warrior

“...major damage to the 5th and 17th weapons-pods...”

“...3rd phalanx move into... 3rd phalanx? Come in?...”

It was an endless stream of negatives and failures, leaving Tyra sighing heavily as it went on and on and on. A small kor’vesa hovered up to his side and blinked a cyan light.

“Report,” he said glumly, anticipating more bad news.

“Second hangar reports dropship Tap’ran docked,” the tiny machine droned, resonant voice absurdly incongruous with its size. “Aun’el T’au Ko’vash is aboard.”

Tyra turned in astonishment, staring at the hovering machine with wide eyes.

“Confirm!” he demanded, fighting to keep the excitement from his voice.

“Aun’el T’au Ko’vash is aboard,” the drone repeated faithfully.

“Helm!” Tyra hissed, stabbing at control drones in a blur of activity. “Set course for Ra

Whatever relief the crew enjoyed quietly at the news was short-lived. El’Siet looked up from his console — his dark expression effortlessly bursting Tyra’s bubble of excitement. “We’re under way, Kor’o...” he said, a minute frown betraying his concern. “There’s damage to the toroq rear engine. The gue’la are matching speed.”

Tyra felt his relief turning in on itself, washing over him in a wave of fear and disappointment. A tremor ran through the bridge as a strafing wave of gue’la fighters glided across the viewscreen.

One of the kor’ui controllers pressed a chime, attracting his attention. “Kor’o? We... we have incoming...”

“Incoming what?”

“Assault craft, Kor’o. Infantry assault craft.”

Tyra let his eyes close slowly, feeling the enormity of the revelation soaking in. Dozens of expectant faces regarded him from every direction, arranged throughout the bridge in silent expectation. He flicked at a small control, opening a cha

“All hands,” he said, fighting against the wavering of his voice. “Prepare to repel boarders.”

Lusha watched Kais hurry away, the change of armour unable to disguise him amongst the other shas’las. He walked differently: a rolling, predatory gait that the others hadn’t yet adopted, marking him out as plainly as any scarred wargear. He’d been changed by the morning’s madness, there was no doubt about it. Exactly what he had become, Lusha sighed, remained to be seen.

Up and down the rounded corridors of the Or’es Tash’var dilating emergency lights pulsed in time with the sonorous fluctuations of a siren. Maintenance drones, hovering high at the zenith of the hallway arch, prattled machine code and exchanged optic signals without slowing. Kor’la crewmen, tall frames appearing spiderlike amidst the clattering groups of fire warriors, hurried from place to place on myriad errands.

And always, every few heartbeats, came the jarring, ugly rush of another impact, another gue’la assault craft gouging its way through the warship’s hull, splitting apart at its prow in a toothless sneer of melta charges and jagged angle grinders to disgorge its huddled cargo of human soldiers. The quiet corridors of the tau vessel had become a battleground, and every able-bodied fire warrior had been sent into the fray to prevent more landings.

Except Lusha. He had more specific orders.

“This way, Aun’el,” he said, his respectful tone unable to fully disguise his impatience. The ethereal too was watching Kais depart, his expression difficult to judge beneath the medipack tied delicately around his brow.

“That shas’la,” he said, voice clouded. “He carries a great weight.”

Lusha tried to steer the ethereal away, “He’s done well, Aun’el.”

“Oh, I don’t disagree, El’Lusha... But is it not said that even when broken, a sword may still cut?”

“‘Broken’, Aun’el?” he replied, hearing his own words echoed in the allegory. “Beyond repair, do you suppose?”

The ethereal looked thoughtful. The blast door separating the pair from the rushing shas’las sealed with an organic breath. Ko’vash pursed his lips.

“We shall see. Come.”

Ko’vash turned towards the command deck elevator and strode away, robes billowing. Lusha hurried after him, gun cradled alertly at his side.

“I’m not convinced this is wise, Aun’el. Your safety is paramount.”

“Nonetheless, El’Lusha — I wish to visit the bridge. I must speak with the kor’o.”

“I appreciate that, but—”

“Good. Then you may act the bodyguard on the way there, if you must.”

“Orders of O’Udas, Aun’el,” he said, enduring the ethereal’s stubbor

“Hmm.”

The elevator sealed behind them, delicate patterns of interlocking colours glowing on the interior walls as the carriage began to rise. Lusha let his eye wander across the ingenious skeins of pastel lattices, focusing the mind as it explored. Like everything aboard the Tash’var, even the fio’sorral artworks were unsurpassed. The idea of gue’la troopers stamping their filth across the warship’s serene spaces filled him with disgust — irrational and untaulike. Troubled at his internal impetuousness, his thoughts returned implacably to—

“You’re troubled by young La’Kais, El’Lusha.”

Ko’vash was staring at him, dark eyes narrowed shrewdly. Lusha frowned, perplexed by his own transparency. In all his tau’cyrs of service he’d met many ethereals and learned — by and large — to contain the impossible sense of awe induced by their presence. Still, rumours always abounded...

“Aun’el... Are you reading my mind?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, El’Lusha.”

“Then how—”

“Think of me as a student of tau nature, Shas’el. I watch things and...” he smiled thoughtfully, “And follow my nose, as the gue’la would say. Your concern is palpable.”

“I knew his father. He’s... I think he’s lost, Aun’el. He needs guidance.”

The ethereal sighed, eyes closed. “Shas’el — you know as well as I that one ca

“I know, Aun’el, but—”

“If La’Kais is lost, Shas’el, his first step to recovery lies in wanting to be found.”

“And how does he do that?”

Ko’vash smiled, a bitter, humourless grin that seemed incongruous amid his serene features. “Carefully, El’Lusha. Carefully.”

The elevator walls dimmed as the carriage decelerated, doors slewing open with a sigh. The bridge opened up before them: an arena of dashing kor’las and blurring drones. A barren-voiced AI, reacting to some hidden optical sensor, no doubt, declared, “Aun on the bridge.”

Immediately a knot of high-ranking kor— and shas-perso

A distant roar broadcast another boarding impact, contact vibrations shuddering the length of the ship. A row of panels glowed orange, damage sensors emitting their sonorous warnings. A harassed shas’vre seated at a command console diligently began directing troops towards the new insertion zone, knowing that every assault craft left undamaged, protruding from the hull like a knife hilt from a corpse, was a docking point for the vast gue’la troop carriers, winching into position even now.

“Prognosis, Shas’vre,” Lusha grunted, keen to take command. The controller barely looked round.

“A knife’s edge, Shas’el. It could go either way.”

“How many breaches?”

“Twelve boarding groups. Eighteen more were destroyed in transit.”

Lusha nodded, impressed. “My compliments to the gu

“Not nearly enough of them, Shas’el. Not nearly enough.”

A firm hand landed on Lusha’s shoulder, surprising him. “I thought I might find you here, El’Lusha. Never one to take a well-earned rest, I recall.”