Damocles

by Various

  ‘Cancel that last command,’ she transmitted. ‘Manta wings, rapid insertion forces, reinforce and clear the indicated dropsite of enemy operatives. Concentrate fire on the outermost tanks, congest and deny mobility wherever possible. All battlesuits to stay airborne, but without ascending within view of inbound gue’la walkers.’

  She eye-flicked details onto Oe-ken-yon’s latest isometric, turning her attention back to the metal goliaths pounding down the jungle road towards her.

  Suddenly a pair of blunt-nosed shells whistled past her, each larger than her torso. Three more thundered over the canopy scant metres from her position, detonating amidst a knot of Crisis battlesuits and forcing the survivors to hunker down low. Shadowsun too dropped like a stone, touching down in the blood-slick peat of the jungle eaves. A dome of ruby energy crackled around her as Oe-hei intercepted a lasgun shot aimed for the back of her head. She whipped round, her fusion blasters whining high as her targeting reticules sought a gue’la to kill.

  Her cross hairs glowed gold over a small human female clutching a tattered net like a blanket. Glittering crustaceans crawled at her feet as she mouthed something too quiet to hear.

  ‘- - - ARE YOU THE STAR PRINCESS - - -’ the autotrans spooled.

  ‘I’ll have your head, you xenos hag!’ shouted Kor’sarro, barrelling off the forest road. His augmented sense of smell could pick out the dry clay tang of his foe’s fusion weapons even over the foul bouquet of battle. She would die at his hand yet.

  A glimmer of distorted light and a patch of pale cloth caught the khan’s eye to the right. He stormed towards the undergrowth like an enraged bull, the trophy-skulls on his power pack catching at the looping vegetation of the boughs above. It made no difference. Nothing could have kept him from his quarry then. Her head would be his.

  Sure enough, there she was – the xenos witch, blurred in outline but frozen in place in front of some foolish Terryn child that had chosen the wrong day to stray. Moonfang raised high, the khan launched himself headlong at his prey only to clang hard against an invisible wall and bounce back into the trunk of a twisted tree.

  A shimmering outline blurred in front of his vision for a second. ‘Surprise,’ the shimmer said in accented Gothic, putting a multi-barrelled cannon to the khan’s head.

  Shadowsun came to her senses in time to see the human war-leader dive to one side, tucking and rolling as Shas’vre Drai blasted the trunk behind him into splinters. Nimble despite his size, the gue’ron’sha warrior came up into a crouching run, outdistancing Drai’s volley as it carved through the foliage. The war-leader caught the small human female around the waist and hurled her into a thicket of bushy flora. Shadowsun took a double shot as soon as the diminutive human was clear, but the human warrior’s own force field glittered bright, absorbing the fusion blasts with an ultrasonic ring of protest.

  Drai stomped forwards, his burst cannon blazing balls of plasma. The warrior turned his armoured shoulder to deflect the volley and shot blind with his bolt pistol once, then twice. The first of the bolts ricocheted from Drai’s armoured mantle. The second punched right through his lens array and detonated within his brain.

  As Shas’vre Drai slumped to the floor, the gue’ron’sha warrior launched himself right towards Shadowsun, silvered sword swinging hard. Appalled by the sudden death of her friend, she stumbled backwards with her firing impulses at maximum.

  Both her fusion blasts went wide.

  Just as the massive warrior slashed a mighty backswing at Shadowsun’s neck the battle flashed monochrome, the jungle lit starkly for the space of a single searing moment. Oe-nu dropped out of the canopy and fell smoking to the earth. Driven by the weight of rage and grief, the swordblow would have taken Shadowsun’s head had Oe-nu not pumped every iota of its power into her personal forcefield.

  Even so the human warlord’s sword landed a telling blow. Its cruel edge carved deep into Shadowsun’s breast, opening the muscle of her heart and smashing her backward into the mulch.

  The last thing she saw as her lifeblood pulsed onto the jungle floor were blazing angels silhouetted against the Voltorian sun.

  Epilogue

  ‘Awaken her,’ said Aun’Va, his serene expression tainted with distaste.

  The thick-set earth caste scientists bowed low, hurrying to impart the correct chemical balance to Shadowsun’s recuperation pod. A data strip at the side of the pod flashed copper, then gold. A string of numbers blipped across its front as it hissed open in a cloud of condensing air.

  ‘O’Shaserra,’ boomed the Supreme Ethereal, ‘The time for sleep is past.’

  Commander Shadowsun slid one eyelid sideways, then the other, blearily struggling to focus on the figure in front of her.

  ‘Oh,’ she slurred, ‘It’s you.’

  An awkward silence blossomed. The earth caste attendants turned quickly away.

  ‘Given your condition, I shall forgive that lapse of protocol,’ said Aun’va. ‘You may seek atonement for your slip at a future date.’

  ‘Whatever you say,’ croaked Shadowsun, her long-unused voice difficult to read even for an ethereal. ‘Please, tell me one thing before we proceed. What was the fate of the Voltoris expedition?’

  ‘Unmitigated disaster, my child,’ said Aun’Va gravely. ‘Eight hundred and twelve tau lives were lost to the gue’la’s guns before extraction was complete.’

  ‘And yet… and yet I still live?’

  ‘For now,’ said Aun’Va. ‘I understand your reinforcement cadre was able to wound your gue’ron’sha assailant to the point of neutralisation.’

  There was another long silence. Shadowsun’s eyes were cast down, the Supreme Ethereal unable to see the depths of sorrow that pooled there.

  ‘The shame of your defeat is difficult to erase, O’Shaserra, if not impossible. Yet the empire shall prevail. The Dovar expedition proceeds as planned, and the earth caste assure me that you will be at maximum operational efficiency within a single kai’rotaa. It seems the Greater Good still has use for you.’

  ‘Then I shall serve it,’ said Shadowsun, a measure of conviction returning to her voice.

  ‘You shall, until death.’

  Shadowsun set her jaw firm as if to receive a blow. ‘Will I be subjected to the Malk’la ritual for my failure?’

  ‘I have not yet decided. I shall seek the counsel of Aun’Shi. In the ways of war, he is more learned even than I.’

  ‘A wise choice.’

  ‘Of course it is, my child. Now, I sense a matter disturbs your soul, a matter that keeps you from realising your true potential. This conflict must first be resolved if you are to defeat your foes and retake your rightful place at the head of the Third Sphere expansion.’

  ‘What matter is it to which you refer?’

  The Supreme Ethereal paused, cocking his grey head to one side by an almost imperceptible amount before answering.

  ‘Let us speak of the Traitor Shoh.’

  Broken Sword

  Guy Haley

  Chapter One

  Recording 7-9998-14 Gue’vesa. Institute of Human Affairs, Lui’sa’loa, Bork’an. Retrieval code 14a-159. Personal memoirs of Gue’vesa’vre Dal’yth J’ten Ko’lin, gue’vesa auxiliary diplomatic protection la’rua 8448.

  This is all about Skilltalker.

  I’ve been asked to record this as honestly as I can, so I will. I don’t think you’re going to like everything I’m going to say, or I don’t think you would if you weren’t all so damned sure of yourselves. Probably you won’t listen to those parts, or you’ll discount them. I’m only a gue’la after all, and a first generation one at that.

  I’m recording this in Gothic. I’ve not had the vocal surgery yet, so I’m afraid my Tau’noh’por will be as senseless as it would be offensive to listen to.

  Okay. Let’s begin. I am Gue’vesa’vre Dal’yth J’ten Ko’lin. In another life,
I was, and still am to myself and among the other human auxiliaries… the gue’vesa – I mean – Jathen Korling. I was originally of Gormen’s Fast, now G’men in Ksi’m’yen Sept, but all that’s behind me now.

  This is my testimony.

  Firstly, Por’el Bork’an Kais Por’noha – Skilltalker – was my friend. I’m still cut up about his loss, more than I am about my team, if I am to tell the truth. But that’s what you want, right, the truth? I’m uneasy about this. Telling the truth back in the Imperium was often a good reason to get killed. You’ll have to forgive me if I appear hesitant, but as you have been so good as to trust me, then I suppose I can only return the favour and hope for the best.

  You say we are given a choice. You know as well as I do that there is no choice. My choice was given to me while I was slowly bleeding to death on Gormen’s Fast. A kroot rifle blade had cut clean through my femoral artery. Everyone else from my platoon was dead. I’d got a tourniquet on it but I didn’t have long, and already the kroot were starting to feast on the dead. I tried not to watch that, but the noises…

  I figured, you know, that was it. I was done for. Praise the Emperor, long live the Imperium of Man, goodbye Captain Jathen Korling.

  The shas’vre of the warrior team that had blasted half my men to shreds called the kroot off, they checked the dead, found me. Medical support was there within seconds. The medic must have seen my stripes because a few minutes later there was Skilltalker, giving me the Greater Good chapter and verse while a bunch of earth caste patched me up. I cut through what he was saying, I was dog-tired, used up; half dead, in point of fact. I’d been put on the front to die – a shield for the high-brass, only they’d died and I hadn’t. I’d had enough of high words to last me a lifetime.

  He was patient, and took my interruption with good grace.

  ‘I betray the Imperium for your Greater Good,’ I said. I’d heard how it worked. I’d seen tau tech openly for sale, even seen a couple of the water guys roaming about Mainstreet unopposed. I’d heard about the planets that surrendered without a shot. I’d also heard that the tau killed everyone that didn’t throw in with them. Enslaved those that did, sometimes murdered the willing anyway. You’ll forgive me again, I’m sure. Honesty, yeah? This is what we were told, you’re xenos scum, worst of the worst, that make traitors of honest men. ‘What if I don’t?’

  Skilltalker smiled, showing me his big square teeth. Such an expressive face, he had. You’re stolid to us, you know that? Most of you wrinkle your noses when you’re happy, and shas’la always look kind of pissed off, but other than that you tau don’t do facial expressions. I’ve had all the careful lectures about how aliens can’t appreciate the Tau’noh’por, the concern that comes with that lack of understanding. I don’t think you realise that you’re condescending, unaware of your own limitations. Sure, even after they resculpt my vocal cords, I’m never going to manage the threefold stances of subtle disharmony, no matter how many times you make me dance through it. I can’t differentiate between the fourteen tones. Fine. Come back and tell me off when one of you can wink.

  Skilltalker was different. All the por’la have such telling faces, but Skilltalker was different even from them. There was such warmth and humour to him. I… I miss him, you know?

  ‘Then you may die with honour,’ he said to me.

  This wasn’t a threat. I think he could tell he had me already. He said this with a real twinkle in his eye, like we were in on a joke together.

  Death or life. It’s never a real choice, is it? Not for the sane. ‘Where do I sign?’ I said. He laughed. That was a noise I was going to appreciate as time went on. He loved life, Skilltalker.

  I was carried off on a stretcher by the fio’la. As I was lifted up, I saw I was being carried right past a line of other scared, wounded men who’d just watched one of their officers turn his coat at the drop of a medpack, and that was that. Skilltalker was giving his lecture to them as they pushed me into the transport. I don’t think a single one said no. You are not a stupid people, I’ll give you that.

  I was relocated to Dal’yth, along with a lot of other Fasters. I’m not complaining. Good luck turning it around, I say. You’re welcome to it.

  I’ve been back here on Dal’yth these last five months… a half tau’cyr, convalescing. They’ve got me working alongside the water caste in the acclimatisation programme, dealing with new commonwealth citizens relocated from across the Damocles Gulf. I watched the gue’la coming in from Mu’gulath Bay. Pale, half-starved, terrified. Watching their fear go is the most remarkable thing. Watching their amazement grow is the second most remarkable thing. I thought Gormen’s Fast was a dump, but compared to the hives of Agrellan, it was okay, and this place is a paradise.

  You give us all a choice, but there really is no choice, not a real one. I know that.

  I remember when Hincks got it, gunned down by those swine outside of Hive Chaeron. I went to see his widow a few days ago. Nice place she’s got now. Good support from the sept authorities. Hincks’s kids are growing up to be model citizens. His boy says he wants to go into the gue’vesa auxiliaries like his uncle Jathen. He’s a healthy lad, tall and strong. I can’t help think what kind of life he’d have back on Gormen’s Fast. Probably be half-blind from working in the gossamer plants. Or dead. And yet there he is, cared for and fed and as strong as an ambull calf. Remarkable.

  I’m still waiting for the catch.

  Chapter Two

  Whenever I think about those last days with Skilltalker, my mind always goes back to the Devilfish, when we were on our way to Chaeron. An Imperial transport is crowded, dirty. Usually stinks. They’re always hot. It’s like they weren’t built for people at all. A Devilfish is not like that. You’ll never know unless you ride in a Chimera. I hope you don’t, for your own sake, because you’ll be going nowhere good. The Imperium treats aliens a lot worse than you do.

  We were on Agrellan – Mu’gulath Bay, before it was Mu’gulath Bay. At that time I’d been attached to the diplomatic corps for five months. It had been twenty months since I’d taken up the generous offer of joining the efforts of the Greater Good. I’d seen a lot of things I’d never thought I’d see in that time; most of it good, but not all of it. I’ll never forget Colonel Boroth of the Ossoun planetary defence force lining up for battle and then ordering his entire army to throw their weapons down to the sound of trumpets. He didn’t lose a single man.

  But I’ll also never forget the descent of the hunter cadres onto Thelion IV when they said ‘no’. The dead there…

  On the face of it, the Tau’va, for me… It looked good. It is good. Not just in the civilian side, but in the military. Gone was my temperamental hand-me down lasgun. We had pulse carbines. Weapons worth a damn, and armour! Plating that actually, might just conceivably stop a shot. And the comms, vox equipment to make a Space Marine envious, for me! Those toys were mighty tempting to a lot of us; some of my squad had come over precisely because they were hungry for tau tech. Or because they were afraid of it.

  We were an odd little collection. Hincks, from Gormen’s Fast, like me, only a few hours left to live. Goliath, we never did get him to tell us his real name, but he was big enough for the one he’d chosen, and that was good enough for the rest of us. A pirate once, or so I heard. Holyon Spar, who swore he’d run away from a rich family of rogue traders, but whose word couldn’t be trusted on anything else, so I didn’t trust him on that either. Helena, who came from some mudball agri world I’d never heard of that had been conquered half by accident.

  And then there was Othelliar. He said he was from a human world never brought into the Imperium, until one day the fleets of the Master of Mankind had showed up, they say they’re not interested in the light of the Emperor and all that, and that was that for his home. He hated the Imperium, I mean really, really hated it. I’ve seen fanaticism before. I’m not talking about the way you tau defer to the aun; that’s
instinctual, I can tell. I’m talking about fanaticism by choice. Because if there’s one thing we humans do have over you – in most circumstances at least – it’s choice. Mad priests, unbending officers, officials blindly following orders… They all choose to do those things, the Emperor alone knows why. But Othelliar’s hatred of the Imperium, well, that was something else entirely. It scared me. He was too far gone with rage. Unstable. I’d mentioned this a few times to my superiors, but I’d been gently fobbed off with ‘every sentient must be allowed a chance to shine,’ and ‘we all contribute to the Greater Good in the best way we can.’ I feel like a fool now.

  There we were. Skilltalker’s protection detail. Humans chosen to visit humans with the water caste – this was all plainly explained to me – to show that there really was nothing to fear from the Tau’va. With us was Krix – what we called him, it was as far as we could get with his name. A kroot warrior, and Skilltalker’s bodyguard. Yeah, I know he was there to protect him from us as much from the enemy. We were a calculated risk, after all. What was there to stop us bolting for home when we were deep in enemy territory? That’s the thinking. If you’ve ever lived on an Imperial planet, you’d know that wasn’t going to happen. Also in the back with us there was Fior’la Bork’an Bue’lai. Bu. A tech demonstrator, show the natives some shiny beads, impress them with the superiority of the tau cause. Sometimes there were others with us, sometimes there were not. It all depended on the mission. This was a dangerous mission, and so the usual assortment of other hangers-on were not present. The bare minimum embassy. Privately, I didn’t rate our chances much. But Skilltalker was all smiles and polite chatter with all of us – each in our native dialect of Gothic, of course.

  He was never scared. I remember, I asked him once if he was ever frightened. He wrinkled his nose at me and made that bubbling sound that passes for laughter in the tau.