by Various
‘J’ten,’ he said. He always used the tau version of my name, even though he could pronounce the human perfectly. He was making a point, except, well… except for that once. ‘What is there to be afraid of?’ he said. ‘We go where we are directed for the needs of society. If I were to die, then it would be for the Greater Good. That is all I ask from my life, to further our glorious cause.’
I looked at him dubiously. He grabbed my shoulders with his wide fingers and peered into my eyes, his face an exaggerated copy of human concern. I couldn’t look back for too long, and looked away. Tau eyes are so big and dark. I’m afraid I’ll not be able to look away. Sometimes… sometimes I think I can see stars in them. Sounds stupid, but it’s the truth.
‘You do not quite understand yet, friend J’ten. I can see that. You are motivated still by self-interest. Only when one forgoes the need to further one’s own goals, to put behind them the need to satisfy their own desires, can one truly achieve one’s greatest potential…’
‘Unity with the polity through service of the polity, for the Greater Good. Tau’va,’ I finished for him.
He smiled and chuckled again, shaking my shoulders slightly raffishly. There was something mischievous about him. It’s why I liked him, I suppose. ‘You see! You know it. You know it, friend J’ten! Only by believing it will you know true satisfaction.’
‘I don’t think I’ll ever fully grasp it. Forgive me,’ I said. I was mindful of my words. Back then, our friendship was only slowly growing. He was my superior. He was an ’el, I only a ’la. I’ve never got over it. Even if I ever am made a gue’vesa’el, same rank as he was, I think I’d probably feel the same. First among equals, and all that; tau come first. I can’t quite shake that conquered feeling.
He put his tongue out through his teeth and hissed through the gaps. That was my first inkling that he and I were getting to be friends. He had stopped mimicking purely human expression around me, and behaved, just a little, more like a tau. ‘Do not worry. Your children will understand, and that is all we ask of you. That and your loyalty.’
‘You have that, Por’el Skilltalker, I swear,’ I said. If for no other reason than if I’d have gone back to the Imperium, I’d have been shot.
You know, him mentioning children, gets me thinking about it, remembering it now. I’d like to have children some day. Never thought I would, but the Tau’va is a better place for them than the Imperium ever could be, and that’s got me hankering after the family life. And then I think on this; Skilltalker once told me that breeding outside of each caste is forbidden. And I wonder, how long until this rule applies to humans, how long until our best characteristics are bred true like they are in grox? And in tau.
You asked me to be honest. Our culture’s sacrosanct, so I’m told. Pair-bonding, family units, freedom of choice in our spouses, the works. I’ve seen that honoured. But I also think on Hincks’s kid, all full of the Greater Good. How far will he go, or his children, in embracing your ideals? You won’t need to push much. We’re mutable culturally, we humans. How much, I wonder, sometimes late at night, do you really want of us?
That conversation was months before the mission. By the time we were coasting at treetop height over the petrified forests of Agrellan, I was a ’vre, and Skilltalker and I had taken to socialising together. We were on our way to Hive Chaeron. Each of the twelve hives was getting a little visit from water caste – lay down your arms, embrace the Greater Good. No harm will come to you. Blah blah. Chaeron was our mark. This was a few days before O’Shaserra’s killing blow, but everyone always gets one last chance to surrender. That’s the way you play it.
The Devilfish. Quiet enough to talk in. The engines hum. It’s cool. We’re comfortable. Marvellous technology. Bu told me quite a lot about how it all works before he got reassigned. As much as I could understand anyway. It’s hard for me. I still half-believe in machine-spirits. Although I understand it’s all nonsense now, it’s hard to shake the faith. You’ll have that problem with a lot of us. Human culture is irrational, I’ve been told. But I’m not so sure everything we believe is so irrational. I’ll tell you something. Agrellan – Mu’gulath Bay – is not a good planet. Something happened there, something really bad. All we gue’vesa could feel it, like a shadow on us. I could taste it, practically, in some places. The creatures in the forests, the forests themselves… It’s not a natural place, not entirely. I heard the Nagi wouldn’t come down there at all. But the tau? You’re oblivious to that kind of thing. So don’t lecture me quite so hard on the irrational. There’s something there. I know it, even if your kind can never feel it.
Looking at my team in there, I had a foreboding that something wasn’t quite right, I think. We had our helmets off, everyone was checking their weapons, standard drill. We barely had anything in common. Different dialects, different worlds, except me and Hincks, that is. Different morphology even: skin, height, eyes, hair. Like I say, humanity’s a diverse race, us there in that back of the Devilfish? We were practically a fio’la biologist’s dream sample.
I was thinking about ta’lissera. Ta’lissera indeed, Skilltalker wouldn’t stop badgering me about it. But what could have bound us together? We were too different, I told him. We’d come from too many worlds, from too many nightmares.
I kept saying this to Skilltalker, and he’d kept asking me to think about it. Ta’lissera, that is. It seemed important to him that we bond, even though the Shas’ar’tol had made it clear to us all the bonding ritual – any bonding ritual – was only to be undertaken if we wanted to do it. Our culture was not tau culture, they made that clear. We could take what we wanted and ignore what we didn’t like, except, of course, the Tau’va.
‘That, friend J’ten, is why they were chosen, precisely because of their differences,’ he’d said. We’d been in a Kor’Shutto on the way to the front. The Damocles Gulf is heavily fortified after the heroic defence of Dal’yth. It was a defence installation first and foremost, but they did have a bar. We were in it. They served a passable imitation of human ale. He took a whey drink. Always made him a bit tipsy, eager to talk, even more so than normal. ‘Do you think it is coincidence that these people are here together under your command. You are their gue’vre. Think of how the problem is for our own ethereals. Many aliens, some divided into many cultures, and the many septs of the tau.’ He closed his hands around one another. ‘But you see? Each of my fingers is a different finger, but they all work for the good of the greater organism – me. And I…’
‘Work for the Tau’va.’
He mockingly saluted me with his drink. Once, the cheesy smell of it had made me gag, but I’d got used to it, like I’ve got used to so much else.
‘I see great things for you, gue’vre. This is one of many challenges for you. You must mould this la’rua, and make them one. Each element individual yes, and so they should remain! But individuals each working for the common cause.’
‘So together we might better serve the Tau’va.’
He smiled. ‘You have it!’ Then he realised the full meaning of my expression and tone. An expert on human affairs, Skilltalker, but sometimes slow on the uptake. Sarcasm was a tough one for him, you’re all so damn sincere. Even the por can never be the races they mimic so well. It’s their biggest weakness. ‘Why this, this, this…’ He drummed three broad fingers on the table. Cynicism is not a concept that the tau have. I supplied the word.
‘Cynicism! Ah, yes.’ He was delighted and became annoyed again. ‘The Tau’va is not for the Tau’va’s sake! This you do not understand. The Tau’va is for my good,’ he pointed at my chest, ‘and it is for your good. The Greater Good means you, me, the fio servers here, the nicassar, thraxians, kroot… Whomever you care to name. All who embrace it serve, and all who serve it are served by it, yes?’
He seemed pleased with himself, as he often did after one of his little lectures. The beer got the better of me.
�
��Permission to speak my mind, por’el?’
‘Yes, yes! By all means, friend J’ten! You should always say your thoughts. How else are we to work together properly?’
‘You are patronising, you know that?’
He understood patronising all right, and was offended. ‘I do not mean to be.’
‘No problem.’ I took another drink. It was getting late. In one k’un’cyr the lights would dim and we would be ushered off to bed. ‘This is why you’re so keen for me to make my team bond.’
He shook his head and bared his broad teeth. Grazer’s teeth, I always think of them. ‘No, no, no J’ten! Not make. Just do. Or do not. It is your choice, but I do believe that if you do undergo a ta’lissera, it will be better for you all.’
‘To fit in?’
‘You are impossible.’ He muttered to himself and rolled his shoulders with exasperation. Amid his melodic, glottal stream of Tau’noh’por I caught, ‘Fu’llasso.’
I laughed. ‘A mind knot? Don’t tell me I’m getting to you finally.’
‘Ah! Your Tau’noh’por improves,’ he said. ‘You are an example, J’ten! You are ready to embrace our culture more than some of the others. It will only benefit us to have you more properly committed to our vision. And it will benefit you, it is the superior way after all.’
I didn’t want to disagree. We were quiet a space. A chime sounded. The third shift would come to an end soon. The air caste had assigned third shift to us as our activity group. They expected us to sleep now. Already another group would be waking to start their day. The space stations of the air caste are crowded.
‘So, have you?’ he said at length.
‘What?’ I said, feigning ignorance.
He wasn’t going to be put off. ‘Chosen a ta’lissera. Surely there must be something acceptable in your culture that will stand. An oath-swearing, or celebration.’
There was, but I hadn’t. I’m not sure why I put it off so long now. A streak of stubbornness? Not wanting to subsume myself into tau culture entirely? Was I clinging to my old identity a little too hard? I don’t know. ‘No,’ I said. ‘No I haven’t.’
‘What are you thinking about, boss?’ Goliath asked me in his guttural Gothic, bringing me back suddenly into the present of the Devilfish. His pulse carbine looked laughably small in his hands. The earth caste had given us weapons specially constructed for human physiology, but with Goliath they’d hit the upper limit of the size range.
‘Nothing, I said. Nothing at all.’ I glanced at my mission clock. ‘Suit up people! Five minutes to dust off.
When I caught Skilltalker’s eye, he was smiling. He knew what I was thinking about. I’m sure about that.
Chapter Three
Report of Nagi’o Joauuulliiallo, third level synaptic adjudicator of nagi synchronous collective 45978. Direct cranial engagement interrogation. Subject gue’ron’sha of semi-autonomous Imperial Uash’o ‘Raven Guard’, Tio’vre Six, Kau’ui Three.
[Supplementary note : The nature of the ‘Space Marines’ is well known to us, but we of the nagi 45978 synchronous collective were surprised by this subject’s resilience to the mind rip nevertheless. We have ascertained that this is partly owing to the latent capability to interface with multiple dimensional realities present in all gue’la to lesser or greater degree, but the greater part of our difficulty originated from the subject’s extensive psychological conditioning. The requisitioning of two lesser collectives was required to break through the subject’s mental blocks. Despite our overwhelming mental superiority, the subject remained defiant to the end, resulting in the deaths or terminal disjunction of all members of one of the lesser collectives (may they find ultimate joining beyond the membranes of activity). Many memory artefacts are present in this interrogation report, but we were able to extract much audio-visual information concerning Imperial gue’la tactics and organisation. That they are so heavily factionalised was the chief surprise to our water caste and n’deemi intelligence experts. We nagi humbly submit that this is encouraging news, surely so divided and decrepit an empire, no matter its size, cannot hope to stymie the efforts of the glorious Tau’va in this critical phase of the Third Sphere Expansion.]
I am Brother-Sergeant Herek Cornix of the Raven Guard. I am Brother-Sergeant Herek Cornix of the Raven Guard. I am…
I am aboard the Wings of Deliverance. I go to a meeting with my Chapter Master, Corvin Severax, my lord and my leader. I would do anything, should he command it. I am aboard…
I am not aboard the Wings of Deliverance. This is a trick. Get out of my mind. Get out, get out! I am Brother-Sergeant Herek Cornix of the Raven Guard, and you will not break my will!
[At this point, more pressure was applied. Earth caste enhancement machines were engaged in greater number. Several of them burned out, killing a full half of the lesser second collective before we were able to break into the inner spaces of the subject’s mind.]
I… I am aboard the Wings of Deliverance. We are in orbit around hive-world Agrellan, the principal planet of the Dovar System, far from the sacred grounds of Terra, yet strategic, for it commands the Dovar Gap through the Damocles Gulf. Xenos contest it, and their temerity will not go unpunished. We of the Raven Guard come here to mete out such punishment as we deem fit. The battle-barge rumbles with repeated broadsides and weapons impact. Enemy rounds penetrate our void shields every so often, but so vast is the Wings of Deliverance that it is untroubled and sails on.
I am Herek Cornix, and I go to see my lord. We are arrived but lately in the system, and I am called into his presence first. This is an honour.
I wear my armour. This is right. Sable, emblazoned with the white emblems of my order. It is newly repainted with the badges of my deeds and rank, and freshly polished. We are at war. We must be ready at all times. It is said by the shadow captains that the enemy we fight has a degree of honour uncommon in xenos, that they are likely to give us fair warning before attacking in order to offer us terms. But this is our way, all done in accordance with the Codex Astartes. We stand ready at all times.
I pass through the great spinal way of the Wings of Deliverance. The blast shields are closed, but as I ride the transit way to the bridge complex, I see Agrellan below us through one open spotting cupola. It is a vile planet, tainted by long-ago war. Its atmosphere is poison to human beings, its forests grim places full of mutated wildlife. The lingering effects of a virus bomb, I am told, and something darker. Weapons fire sparkles around it as our picket ships duel with tau interdiction vessels. We have taken them by surprise. Elements of the first reinforcement fleet are hurrying to our aid from out-system. But the tau are many, and although our might is such that we can hold them back, quick judgment suggests that we cannot do so indefinitely. I wonder therefore, what our strategy will be. I am proud that I, before all others, will discover exactly what Lord Severax has planned.
I reach the support block bearing the bridge complex. I am allowed through by our Chapter Master’s honour guard. The atrium is vast and pleasing to the eye. Statues of heroes of our Chapter stand in solemn repose in the shadows. Their names are mysterious, known only to those who should know. This is as it should be. Ours is the way of the shadow war.
I am directed by servitors to one of many grand elevators. The doors, decorated with great skill by our serf-artisans, are inlaid with jet and polished coal, depicting a great raven, head down and wings crossed across its breast. Now I near the presence of my lord, my hearts quicken. Few are invited into the presence of Lord Severax, but I, Herek Cornix, have been granted this honour. Whatever the reason, I swear that I will prove worthy of the task set me. I will not shame myself.
The elevator takes long minutes to ascend the main support to the bridge complex. The Wings of Deliverance is our mightiest vessel, a battle-barge of great age. I am humbled by its majesty.
At the top I am met by members of the Shadow Conclave, our lord
’s most trusted servants. They lead me silently along hushed ways. We pass the great doors to the primary bridge. They lead me upwards on sweeping stairs, and usher me into the personal audience chambers of my lord.
The space is great, made all of dark stones and blackened iron. Nevertheless, the presence of my Lord Severax fills it utterly, from shadowy corner to gloomy embrasure.
Severax sits upon a dark throne of onyx, the black chalcedony. Subtle bands of white compete with the hard highlights of the throne’s carvings to confuse the eye. Much of his face is lost to darkness, yet I look upon it! He is a living idol to our lost primarch. He is a true son of Corax. His skin is as white as pale stone, his hair as black as jet. His eyes are penetrating and black. His nose is aquiline – features we all bear, but he is flawless where the rest of us are as yet half-formed. Four hundred years of war have beaten the impurities out of him, as the impurities are beaten from the blade upon the anvil of the smith. He is our exemplar. He is the Raven.
Shadow Captain Kayvaan Shrike is present. I am surprised to see him, as he has been most active on the surface, bringing relief to our embattled brethren from the White Scars Chapter. With him also are an Adeptus Mechanicus magos, his red robes embroidered with the badges of the biologis sect. Beside him stands an inquisitor I do not know and have not seen before. This is no surprise; their methods are even more secretive than ours. He is old by the standards of the ungifted, but his bearing is full of strength. His hand rests within the basket hilt of a power rapier, his off-white clothes the only sign of lightness in the chamber’s gloom. Cybernetic pseudoravens flap overhead, cawing and whirring. Otherwise the chamber, its galleries and broad floor fit to host half the strength of our Chapter, is empty.
‘We greet you, Brother-Sergeant Cornix,’ says Shrike to me. Severax does not speak. He sits and looks at me, the black coins of his eyes unreadable.
