Damocles

by Various

  We stepped out. The floor was covered in carpets showing already wet patches from damp trapped inside the tent. The fabric of the habitat was beaded with condensation. The place was luxurious, but grimy. A long wooden table ran the width of the tent. Two guards in scarlet dress uniforms, crested, golden helmets and respirators stood to attention behind it, flanking a fat man in a similar outfit who sat in a ridiculously overly ornamented chair. He had a face like thunder, and a mouth full of food. Many dishes were laid in front of him. The whole meeting, his fork never stopped moving. His head was bald and beaded with sweat, his eyes sunk in folds of flesh. A thin moustache and tiny, triangular beard clung to his flabby face.

  ‘Ah, Lord Grunkel,’ said Skilltalker, pressing his hands together and speaking with unalloyed delight. ‘Such a great pleasure to meet you face to face. I am Emissary Por’el Bork’an Kais Por’noha. I bring you greetings from the tau, we are five castes, one people, and I am here with full authority to invite you to lay down your arms and join with us. We offer a bright future for all who side with us, a new way of life. We have much to offer a faithful friend. All are bound to the dream of bringing a new and better way to the universe. All are working to the Greater Good. I hope you will choose to share the culture, technology and protection of the tau empire, as your kind here with me today already have.’

  Grunkel grunted and glared at me. ‘I’ve heard your standard offer before, as I have heard of these traitors. I am sure, if I were to ask him, that he’d tell me how wonderful it is to live with stinking xenos and spit on the law of the Emperor. I’m not so naïve to believe that he could possibly be either entirely honest or not coerced. I’m not interested.’ He wiped his mouth and hands on a napkin, then stood and gestured at the chairs. ‘Nevertheless, I invite you to please, sit. I dislike aliens but am not a barbarian. This meeting was called under fair terms and I intend to uphold them. I offer you what little luxury we have. The blockade has been hard on my people.’

  Grunkel’s fat belly and the small fortune’s worth of off-world delicacies led me to believe he was suffering far less than his subjects. Always the way.

  ‘Most unfortunate. I am sorry for the miseries of your people.’ said Skilltalker. And damn it, he meant it, not that Grunkel believed him. A chair was pulled out for the tau by a liveried servant, and he sat gracefully. Water caste are taller than fire warriors, something else that often proves a surprise to us. ‘We have many supplies of a high grade. Upon your surrender, they will be immediately dispatched to your city, along with aid teams and marshalling officers, all of them are fully briefed and ready to aid your government in providing for the new citizens of the Tau’va.’

  ‘What’s that? Commonwealth or something?’ Grunkel poured a generous measure of wine into a glass and handed it to Skilltalker. He wouldn’t have known that alcohol has no effect and less appeal for the tau. He also wouldn’t know that the water caste’s bodies, thanks to the efforts of the earth caste, are mostly inured to poisons. Skilltalker drank the wine. No doubt it tasted vile to him, but he smiled with appreciation. ‘Empire, more like,’ said Grunkel. He reached for a roll of bread and broke it in two, stuffing one piece into his mouth. He spoke as he chewed and waved the other half at Skilltalker. ‘You come here, bringing traitors, hoping to show me how safe and fine life is under the tau. Do you take me for a simpleton? I am not fooled.’

  ‘They are not traitors!’ said Skilltalker. ‘Not traitors to civilisation and peace. You may ask gue’vesa’vre J’ten Ko’lin whatever you will. The presence of my protection team here vouches for the honesty of the Greater Good. They are my guard. They accompany me everywhere. Their weapons are at my back every day and every night. They could, if they so chose, end my existence at a whim. But they do not. They work for the Greater Good, as do I. They serve me willingly, and I for my part serve them willingly, by serving the greater ideal of the Greater Good. This is what Tau’va means.’

  Grunkel sat back with a sigh, pushing out his belly. I’m glad I had my helmet on. The smell of non-Tau’va humans gets to me now. Tau are fastidiously clean creatures, although they smell strange to me still. Humans can be, but in places like Agrellan, where everything is in short supply, including water, hygiene’s not a priority, even in the monied classes. In short, Grunkel reeked. Of sweat, of unwashed clothes, but most of all of privilege built on the suffering of others.

  ‘I’ve heard such offers all before, at one time or another. Not always in the same pretty words, and not always together. We’re isolated out here, the Imperium’s eye is elsewhere. It’s up to men like me to make sure that the rule of the Emperor does not falter, but it does.’ He glanced at me. ‘Pirates, renegades, xenos… The Damocles Gulf is a playground for them all. We have to fend for ourselves, make sure the light of the Emperor and the Imperium does not fail. Tell me, tau. How are you different to the hrud? Your kind will infest our world as surely as they would. And what makes you different to the orks? Your threats are more coy than theirs, but I hear them all the same. And your weaponry, as has been pointed out to me by other emissaries like yourself, is far better than that carried by the greenskins.’ He leaned forward with a grunt. With a gut like that, he must have been in constant discomfort. He picked up more food, some kind of stringy meat, and dipped it into a pot of sauce. ‘You offer us nothing but slavery, hidden behind the words of friendship,’ he said, before taking a bite of the meat. Sauce dribbled into his beard.

  Skilltalker was dismayed. ‘No! No, none are slaves. We all work together, for the Greater Good.’

  ‘Do you know, your kind, how large the Imperium is? Do you?’ Grunkel smiled nastily. ‘I’m sure treacherous men like your J’thing here has filled you in. The Imperium of Man is the largest empire in the cosmos. It stretches from one side of the galaxy to the other. Your little “commonwealth”, no matter how dynamic it feels itself to be, runs up only against the bulwarks of the Imperium – we here beside the Gulf. And although you may breach the walls in one place, you cannot hope to take the fortress. Once you have drawn the attention of the High Lords of Terra, my alien “friend”, then your kind will regret its arrogance, shortly before it ceases to exist altogether. If you sincerely believe in your messages of cohabitation and peace, and I am not convinced at all by those, then in the same spirit I offer you some sage advice of my own. Withdraw back over the Damocles Gulf. Fortify your frontier, and pray that the Imperium deems you too little of a threat to bother crushing, because crushed you will be. No matter your technology, no matter your self-belief. You goad a giant, and wake it at your peril.’

  Quite the speech, I thought. Skilltalker’s expression was open and sympathetic. ‘Oh great lord of the Imperium, thank you for your advice, but I fear it cannot and will not be acted upon. That is not our destiny. Our destiny is to carry the message of the Greater Good to all, and bring peace to the galaxy.’

  Grunkel twisted his lips and shook his head in disbelief. ‘You believe yourselves so superior. And, heretical as it might be to say so, you might be right. I have seen your technology. But you are few, and we are many.’

  ‘And you cannot see that your time has passed,’ countered Skilltalker. ‘Here, let us show you some of the technical and social benefits we can offer you, as equals, all working together as one.’ He waved Bu forward, but Grunkel scowled at him. Bu came to the table only to stop before setting his demonstration unit down. As far as I could tell, he was hurt by the rejection. But they’re stoic, the earth caste. Annoyingly stoic.

  ‘I’m not interested. You can take your impure alien junk and shove it into whatever passes for an alimentary exit in your species.’

  Charming, I thought, and this is the upper level of Agrellan society.

  Skilltalker looked glum, although the manner of expression made it abundantly clear that it was sorrow he felt for Grunkel, not himself. ‘As stars are born, burn bright and then decay, so do empires. Do you think that your species has a monopoly
on power? Archaeologists of our earth and water castes have discovered evidence of lost civilisations that predate both of ours by tens of millions of years!’ He held out his hands, as if he would wring a drop of reason from this rock of Imperial rectitude. ‘Why, yours is not even the first empire of mankind – our contact with worlds you have forgotten about tells us that. I assure you, it will be the last. Your people will live on within our commonwealth, whether or not you yourself live to see it. And I rejoice that it is so, for genocide is shameful and unnecessary. Would that we could welcome you all into our fold without bloodshed. If you fear the retribution of your kind, do not. Work with us! The more of you that do, the less power the tyranny of your masters will hold over you. Be safe, be free.’

  ‘Free?’ snorted Grunkel. ‘Freedom’s a dangerous myth. I say again, I’ve heard all this before, Skilltalker. You think that your army waiting out there,’ he gestured upwards, ‘makes me more inclined to take your duplicitous offer, or less? You underestimate us if you think we shall all be so easily intimidated. There were water caste here before the last attempt you people made to take our worlds. I’ve seen your broadcasts, read your propaganda.’ He looked directly at me as he continued to speak. ‘All very marvellous, but better, I say, better the righteous rule of the Emperor of Mankind, better the chains of honest servitude than an alien boot on the neck in a false equality.’

  He threw down his meat, leaned back, sighed and laced his fingers over his gut again.

  ‘I am sure you will be very disappointed, xenos, but this is my answer – there will be no surrender of Hive Chaeron.’

  Skilltalker nodded, understanding and disappointment artfully expressed by his remarkable face. ‘I understand. I thank you for this meeting.’ He stood, and bowed, hands crossed across his chest in the tau way. ‘If you should survive the attentions of our hunter cadres, I hope we may meet again, and that your opinion will have changed.’

  With that he headed for the airlock. Krix followed, turning to and fro, alert for any sign of ambush. Bu and I followed.

  ‘Wait!’ called Grunkel. Skilltalker stopped. ‘I have a question for your human slave.’

  ‘J’ten?’ asked Skilltalker.

  I turned. ‘Go ahead, Grunkel.’ Not using his title pleased me greatly. It didn’t faze him. I reckon he was a kind of pragmatist, Grunkel. He was no coward, either. I feel for men like him. Sure, he was a pig of a man, a tyrant. But the system he existed in demanded he be one. He knew he stood a good chance of dying. What could he do? He was playing the odds; a pity for him that he laid down the wrong hand on the table.

  ‘Tell me, “J’ten”, if that is your name. Is it truly as he says? Is it better for you as a slave of theirs or as a subject of the Emperor’s?’

  I regarded him through my helmet vision system for a moment. It put distance between us, that technological interface. Looking at him that way made him seem disconnected from my life, ridiculous even. All that made my time before the Tau’va seem almost impossible. I almost believed it had been some kind of nightmare. Almost.

  ‘What do you think?’ I said to Grunkel. I then spoke to Skilltalker. ‘I advise us to depart now, por’el.’

  Skilltalker hesitated. He was such a professional, making it clear to Grunkel that he was considering my words. I was no lackey.

  ‘Very well, gue’vesa’vre. I concur. Farewell, Lord Grunkel.’

  We left the tent. The last time I’d done something like this, I’d been on the other side, back when I was still Jathen Korling and I was a captain in the Gormen’s Fast planetary defence force. I knew as soon as the tau came in – in greater force that time, I might add, our water caste visitor lacked Skilltalker’s flair for humility – that we were outgunned. We could all see it, all except Colonel Artreuse. Looking back at our audience with Grunkel, maybe he saw it too. Maybe he was just too proud to accept it. It’s no easy thing to accept that your time is done.

  Grunkel was more of a pragmatist than Artreuse, but not as much of one as Boroth. We roll our dice and take our choices. I made mine. Grunkel made his. I’m alive, and Grunkel’s dead. What does that tell you?

  Evening was coming on outside. The hive’s upper levels, jutting so far above the curve of Agrellax, still glowed amber, but the walls were grey with shade, and the forest floor already lost to night.

  ‘They’re up to something,’ I signalled the squad. ‘Hincks, Othelliar, take point. Goliath, Helena, close in on the por’el. Holyon, stick by me. Might be worth getting Kor’la D’yanoi Yel’fyr to fire up the drones.’

  Bu grabbed my sleeve, his other arm cradling his ignored tech demonstrator. ‘We wait here. No go. Por’el thinks we be safe.’

  ‘That’s not his job, it’s mine. He’s too invested in ideas of honour and mutual gain to see how devious these swine can be,’ I said. ‘I don’t like it. Something’s up.’

  We rounded the corner into the landing glade. Kor’la D’yanoi Yel’fyr had been hauled from his cockpit, struggling to stand on legs suited to zero-g. Men stood around, their weapons pointed.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘They’ve gone and done it.’ This was no fear for myself speaking, you understand. I knew what was going to happen. My guts clenched. These men were all going to die.

  ‘Drop your weapons! Stand down. You are to be taken prisoner!’ their officer shouted.

  ‘Oh the damned idiots,’ I heard Helena whisper.

  ‘Don’t do this!’ I said, switching my helmet to broadcast. ‘Stand down, we are a diplomatic mission with full immunity as agreed before the meeting.’

  ‘There can no consideration for xenos scum and traitors! How marvellous can this Greater Good be? You have fallen into a trap.’

  With a half-platoon of lasguns trained on me, I let my weapon fall, my squad followed suit. I would not be party to gunning down men I would have once fought alongside. This was small consolation.

  ‘No my friend,’ I said softly. ‘You have triggered one yourself.’

  This is the way it goes; once weapons are raised and threats offered, everyone gets a chance to surrender. The por’el turned to me. Now was the time. They might take it better from me.

  ‘Now, for the love of the Emperor, lay down your arms.’

  The Guardsman laughed. ‘You have no love for the Emperor, traitor!’

  They moved forward to arrest us, but never made it.

  Fire came hissing out of the trees, the gentle burr of sound-suppressed burst cannons. It was so quiet that the Guardsmen only realised they were under fire when three men exploded into hunks of flesh.

  An instant of shocked silence, and then the clearing erupted into pandemonium. Men threw themselves in all directions, too busy trying to save their own skins to open fire on us.

  One of the Devilfish’s drones popped out of its housing and rushed towards Skilltalker, encasing him in a glowing sheath of energy. The Guardsman had been instructed to bring him down, it seemed, for large amounts of weapons fire came his way, but he stood there impassively, protected by the superior technology of the Greater Good.

  When they realised what was happening, they turned their guns on us, shooting Hincks dead out of spite. Krix went into them, moving so fast that the first three men he killed didn’t even register his presence. He screeched fearsomely, and the remaining Guardsmen ran from him, right at the stealth teams hidden in the fringes of the forest.

  ‘Stop! Stop! Enough! Cease firing! Let them be!’ ordered the por’el.

  The stealth teams’ blood was up, and it took a repeat of Skilltalker’s order before the shooting stopped. Bodies lay everywhere around the clearing. Guard came running up the path to be met by our raised weapons. The stealth teams emerged behind them, their shapes visible as a glimmer on the air. This time, when asked to drop their weapons, they complied.

  ‘Such a waste, such a waste,’ said Skilltalker softly. He walked around, looking at the
carnage, still protected by the shield drone. Krix was looking at the bodies longingly, but he wouldn’t eat, not in the presence of the tau.

  Bu helped Kor’la D’yanoi Yel’fyr back into his pod, as he was practically helpless at this level of gravity. My men surrounded the Guardsmen, bunching them up in front of the Devilfish. One of the stealth teams headed off to the tent. There was a brief round of gunfire, and then they came back, their bulky forms behind Grunkel and more Guardsmen. All told, we’d taken about thirty prisoner.

  ‘What shall we do with them?’ I said.

  ‘Leave them,’ said Skilltalker. ‘This is a diplomatic meeting, and I will abide by the laws of it, even if they do not.’

  ‘They’ll only fight O’Shassera,’ I said.

  ‘Then they will die. But that is their choice. It will not be mine. Destroy their weapons.’

  My remaining men got on with that while the stealth teams watched the prisoners. I looked at the smoking corpses, checking them for signs of life. Skilltalker saw a waste. I saw idiocy. Grunkel was standing in the flood of the tide and denying his feet were wet. That was the real shame of it. Times are changing. Most of my kind just don’t know it yet.

  ‘Stupid,’ I said to Grunkel. He stared back, hands clasped behind his head, in the same boat as his men for once. He was a cold-eyed whoreson, that’s for sure.

  ‘Not stupid,’ said Skilltalker, talking more to Grunkel than to me. ‘This is an act of defiance, a petty act. Now look, your men are dead, and for what?’

  ‘You brought men too,’ said Grunkel, somewhat petulantly, I thought.

  Skilltalker smiled sadly. ‘Only because the perfidy of your kind is well-known. I thank destiny not all of you are the same. Our offer still stands. Please reconsider. I wish to see you working with us, together, and not dead in this manner. It is a waste.’

  ‘Go to hell, xenos.’ Grunkel snarled through his respirator. ‘I’d rather die.’