Blades of Damocles

by Phil Kelly

  Farsight was already running calculations and theoretical approaches, devising new and exciting mont’kas. The giant battlesuits were the keystone on which truly majestic military strategies could be built. Underneath the cerebral thrill of it, he felt a genuine emotional charge, like a naive young cadet seeing a Crisis suit up close for the first time.

  ‘I only wish I had whole rotaa to spend in here,’ said Farsight sadly, ‘but my immediate duty to the Tau’va calls. We must confer.’

  ‘We are nearly at our destination,’ said O’Vesa, waddling over to another vestibule chamber with a dual door. ‘You will need to present your bio-sign here, I’m afraid. Only ethereals and those of the highest rank who also have special dispensation may enter. I myself have permanent access.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Farsight dully, clicking his fingers dismissively in front of the oval sensor pad. A moment later the door lights turned from grey to gold; the sensor software had detected the still-living skin cells he had dislodged with his gesture and analysed their genetic structure in a heartbeat. O’Vesa pursed his lips in disapproval and placed a thumb respectfully on the pad, his own light turning gold in response.

  A moment later both doors irised open and Farsight slid inside. Another vestibule, this time without signage of any sort, leading to a corridor lined with black window ports. The lack of information presented here struck Farsight as odd, given the earth caste’s obsession with it. Somehow it was more disturbing than the sight of a corpse-strewn battlefield. There was a lack of honesty here, he could feel it.

  O’Vesa led Farsight down a long corridor. As he passed each window, the scientist tapped each blacked-out lozenge with his data wand to render it briefly transparent, blink-capturing the status of his projects in the process.

  Aware that he was likely under scrutiny, Farsight carefully kept his face neutral and his eyes front – one of them, at any rate. The other he slid to observe the windows as he passed. The earth caste genius led him on, oblivious. Though O’Vesa seemed to think such matters beyond a simple warrior, Farsight had been given reasons to mistrust O’Vesa in the past, and suspected that even a microdec’s glimpse of what lay beyond the black apertures could be incredibly revealing.

  One glance afforded a snapshot of strange, wiry nests of cables and neurode discs wrapped around floating spheres. Another showed a magnificent hoverdrone dais with a regal ethereal seated in profile upon it; the image shed light as a hologram rather than reflecting it. Further down the corridor Farsight caught sight of a massive cannon the length of the entire room, oblong in cross section and replete with glowing power sources.

  As O’Vesa turned a corner and took a different corridor, another lozenge window was rendered briefly transparent to reveal a series of tall glass cylinders. Each held a slumbering tau with tubes and wires jutting from its skin, its eyes, its scalp. The nearest, though he could have been no more than twelve years of age, was the spitting image of Commander Brightsword.

  This time Farsight could not keep silent.

  ‘Honoured O’Vesa… was that Commander Brightsword in there?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ said O’Vesa. ‘That particular donor has been voluntarily involved in our hypergenics program for many kai’rotaa now. Just as well, really. I need an individual to test a pair of counter-intuitive weapons I have devised, and he has precisely the right mindset.’

  Farsight kept his peace, though he felt his blood grow hot at the implications. Unless the clone had been brought from inception to full maturity in the space of a few days, it had existed – and perhaps even had a sentient mind – whilst the original Commander Brightsword had still been alive. It was against all the rules of scientific reproduction, as far as Farsight understood, and it made him feel very uncomfortable. He would not put such unsanctioned experimentation past O’Vesa, though; not after what he did to Farsight’s mentor Ob’lotai, reborn as the artificial intelligence the fire caste called Warghost. Even now, many kai’rotaa later, that was not a matter he cared to think about for too long.

  Farsight realised one of his hands had subconsciously strayed to the hilt of his bonding knife, and hurriedly clasped them in front of him. He forced down his anger. Those were old wounds, not to be reopened, not here at any rate.

  ‘Ah, here we are,’ said O’Vesa. ‘The analysis suite. The data I gleaned from our guests is still raw, but I have made batch copies nonetheless.’

  ‘You keep using that term, “guests”. I assume you are telling me a number of gue’ron’sha gained access to your facility.’

  ‘That is correct. They gained access through the subterranean commune Ver’haya Nineteen Five. Observe, if you will, the anomalous behaviour I recorded when they faced one of our water caste.’

  At this O’Vesa played footage of a squad of cobalt-armoured Space Marines demolishing a tau magister’s living space. He heard the grunting battle cant of the gue’ron’sha, recognising most of the syllables and even the odd word from his studies. One of their number dealt the killing blow to the water caste magister by stamping on her chest just as she pulled a pulse pistol on his comrade.

  Farsight scowled. A moment before the kill, it had seemed like another of the warriors – his red helm of rank obvious despite the dim light – had been reticent to land a blow.

  ‘Compile this for me, if you would. It may bear closer inspection.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So they broke into a commune, then found their way in here. Given you are analysing their data rather than their remains, I can only surmise they cut their way free.’

  ‘I sent stealth drones after them, and made Commander Shadowsun aware of their presence,’ said O’Vesa reasonably. ‘The matter is in hand.’

  ‘You told Commander Shadowsun instead of me?’ said Farsight.

  ‘I did indeed.’

  ‘Despite everything we achieved together on Arkunasha.’

  ‘Why, yes. It felt like the right thing to do.’

  A long silence filled the analysis chamber.

  ‘That footage is a mere prologue, in any case,’ blustered O’Vesa. ‘Look at the data trail they left behind in the testing zones!’ He made his way over to an analysis cradle that was already rendering a dozen types of data upon its broad, flat holoscreens, and brought up a dozen more with a flick of his wand. Despite his simmering emotions, Farsight couldn’t help but divert an eye in its direction.

  The analysis cradle detailed everything from the material tolerances of the Imperial war-tech to ballistics reports and weapons parameters. There were even remote radioscopic autopsies assessing the physiology of the Space Marines. Used correctly, it was enough information to give the fire caste a real edge, and revitalise his own analysis projects regarding their war capabilities. Farsight could feel himself becoming elated at the thought, the fires of anger flickering to be replaced by those of enthusiasm.

  ‘This is fascinating,’ said Farsight. This time he really meant it. ‘O’Vesa, this is of paramount importance to the war effort. You are standing on the crest of a silver mountain here.’

  ‘I believe I am, yes.’

  More images flitted past – scenes of the Space Marines fighting a Broadside, a warband of cybernetic kroot, a macrostealth suit, and a ballistics unit of truly colossal size.

  ‘These prototypes need refining, of course,’ said O’Vesa.

  ‘I wonder to which you are referring, O’Vesa,’ said Farsight, his tone flat and cold. ‘The unsanctioned battlesuits, or the facsimile kroot I specifically advised you not to construct?’

  O’Vesa turned away, tinkering with his data wand.

  ‘If the Shapers get word you are analysing their kindreds in such detail, let alone making programmable analogues of their people,’ said Farsight, ‘you will have endangered our relationship with our closest allies, and in doing so, weakened the entire Tau Empire.’

 
‘I merely sought to harness as much relevant data as possible,’ protested O’Vesa, ‘I leave political matters to the water caste. As should you.’

  Technically, the scientist had a point. Farsight put the matter aside, resolving to come back to it once the immediate conflicts were resolved. He motioned for O’Vesa to continue, and the gue’ron’sha continued hacking their way through the artificial version of the kroot home world. Halfway through the footage, Farsight noted many of the Space Marines removing their helms. There were several clear captures of their faces.

  ‘This was harnessed by a chameleodrone as they conferred in what we call the safe cave,’ said O’Vesa. ‘An area specifically designated for opportunistic recording.’

  Two of them, Farsight recognised. They were the same warriors he had engaged at the reservoir. His hands curled into fists at the memory.

  The images played on, now showing the lunar deathscape. The Space Marines were fighting hard, engaging the gue’ron’sha simulacra O’Vesa had assembled after Vespertine. Explosive bolts shattered ablative armour, gauntleted fists cracked into faceplates, and chain-toothed swords chewed through artificial limbs in showers of sparks. By the look of it, the invaders were outclassing their supposed analogues completely.

  ‘These gue’ron’sha fight with merciless skill,’ said Farsight, ‘but with little in the way of subtlety.’

  ‘I imagine it was not easy for you to watch them attack the unarmed magister,’ replied O’Vesa. ‘Would that act be considered dishonourable conduct by your caste?’

  Farsight nodded slightly, deep in thought. That footage was curious. He could not shake the suspicion that one of the Space Marines had been reticent to strike the magister down before the other officer stepped in to make the killing blow.

  Only a few rotaa ago, a kind of honour had been shown by the captain that had duelled Brightsword. The Space Marine had called off his support firepower, and that action had indirectly cost him his life. Farsight had held his own fire in response, allowing the two warriors to fight, one on one, to the death.

  A small part of his soul questioned whether he would have stayed his hand if the Space Marine had not commanded his own allies to cease fire first. His decision had resulted in Brightsword’s demise, robbing the fire caste of a great champion, but he had died well, in the service of the Tau’va. The duel had been fought fairly, not through formal agreement, but through some unspoken warrior ideals shared by human and tau alike.

  Though Farsight had spared the life of a gue’ron’sha medic earlier in the battle, he had not hesitated to capitalise on the aftermath of the honour duel, slaying the crippled captain moments after its conclusion. Perhaps it was he that had shown a weakness of the soul that day. Perhaps the gue’ron’sha code was more stringent than he thought.

  And yet the image of a booted foot crushing the life from the helpless water caste magister was hard to forget.

  ‘Would you care for a compile of this data now, despite the fact it is still pre-assimilation?’ said O’Vesa, waving a notation hoverdisc towards Farsight. ‘Once it is properly sorted and analysed, I shall of course make it widely available through the proper channels. Still, I know your talents are diverse enough to make use of the raw data.’

  ‘My thanks,’ said Farsight, bowing formally as he received the disc in both hands. In truth he was taken aback. For the genius scientist to part with his data harvest before he had thoroughly analysed and quantified it was sacrifice indeed. It was akin to a fire warrior parting with a powerful prototype weapon before having a chance to test it in battle.

  ‘Oh, speaking of your diverse talents,’ said O’Vesa. ‘Tutor Sha’kan’thas was asking after you. A question regarding whether your gifts are, in fact, rather too widely spread for the Greater Good.’

  ‘What?’ said Farsight, a cold splash of fear hitting his chest. The very concept of blending castes was taboo. For an officer to be accused of straddling those lines was severe indeed. In the event Tutor Sha’kan’thas’ claim reached the ethereals, Farsight could be stripped of rank – and perhaps even subjected to the deadly trial that awaited all those branded vash’ya.

  The commander steeled himself, compartmentalising the news and forcing focus upon his thoughts. Personal considerations were nothing next to the wider war effort. ‘Tutor Sha’kan’thas can wait,’ he said. ‘There is a war raging outside, and my first duty is to the safety of my people. Tell me where these rogue gue’ron’sha squads went. I shall lead a team after them myself and contain them before they do any more damage to our domain.’

  ‘Naturally I extrapolated their course. There is a very high degree of probability they are heading for the Ath’adra Command Facility.’

  Farsight felt his fear intensify dramatically, skin prickling with anxiety.

  ‘Ath’adra? Are you sure?’

  ‘Within reasonable parameters,’ said O’Vesa. ‘Does that alarm you? You seem alarmed.’

  ‘The ethereal council is meeting there,’ muttered Farsight, turning on his heel and running towards the door.

  Tutor Sha’kan’thas ran through his arguments once more, reassuring himself their causal paths were proof against even the most discerning observations. Farsight was vash’ya, he was certain of it. He had known there was something wrong with that upstart from the beginning, back at the Mont’yr battle dome. At first, he had mistaken it for genius, and encouraged his student in every way. It had been he who had given the aspiring fire warrior his first name element – Shoh, meaning ‘inner light’ – in response to his superb insight.

  But Shoh had proven too precocious, too cunning, and had destabilised an entire batch of cadets as a result. Not only had he flouted regulations by forcing his induction several kai’rotaa before it was due, he had memorised and exploited every facet of his instructors’ preferred war-styles, then used that knowledge to unpick every new simulation like a master thief unpicking a lock. Before long it had become disruptive. The youngster had solved the tutors’ convoluted training challenges with the ease of a kroothound sniffing out a dead body.

  That disruption had not gone unnoticed by Shas’ar’tol high command. Two rotaa later, Shoh had the rank of shas’la conferred upon him by none other than Commander Puretide himself, and Tutor Sha’kan’thas and his peers had been relieved of their duties, sent to the front line against the Arachen of the Western Veil.

  Sha’kan’thas had survived, one way or another. He eventually won back his former title, though he had been told he would never rise further in his field. Meanwhile he had watched with bitter ire as Shoh swiftly rose to the rank of commander – far too swiftly for the Greater Good. In the process the prodigy had proven himself capable to the point of arrogance, excelling in every field. He had shown the flair of a gifted orator when addressing his cadres, both at Zephyrpeak and here on Dal’yth. Perhaps worse still, he had usurped the duties of the earth caste when he field-repaired his own malfunctioning battlesuit under the waters of Dal’yth Reservoir. One incident was more than enough for an enquiry, but both together were ironclad evidence of Farsight blurring the caste lines.

  Tutor Sha’kan’thas had sequestered evidence of the Zephyrpeak incident from the fire caste’s archive, and had corroboration of the reservoir anomaly from his brief interview with O’Vesa. The latter was held on the recorder-discus he now held in his clammy palms. O’Vesa the Stone Dragon was held in such high regard in his field, with a long-held reputation for unflinching honesty and for having all the political acumen of a gun drone. Farsight was between castes all right – even O’Vesa had said as much. For all Tutor Sha’kan’thas knew, the commander was a natural pilot as well.

  The tutor heard the hiss of a door irising open up ahead, and found himself sitting bolt upright, a trickle of sweat making its uncomfortable way down his spine. A tall female ethereal drifted into the corridor. Held aloft by an elegant repulsor belt, she glided toward him with the sign
of greetings-in-adversity.

  A strange feeling of doubt wormed its way into the tutor’s mind. He desperately wanted the dangerous firebrand Farsight put in his place, ideally to have him demoted for the good of the Tau’va. But should the hearing go too well…

  Tutor Sha’kan’thas put the dark thought from his mind. As always, the ethereal caste would do the right thing for the Greater Good. Their wisdom was unimpeachable.

  So why did he feel like he was holding a sharpened knife instead of a recorder-disc?

  Chapter Ten

  PREDATION/THE HIDDEN THREAT

  In the deep black void beyond the Eastern Fringe, a living cataclysm glinted against the night.

  At first it was only the outrider elements that reflected starlight from ice-crusted carapaces, but as the sands of time trickled on, a trillion dormant bio-forms emerged from the nothingness.

  No lights winked upon the prows of the ships of this sentient armada. No engines growled in the darkness. Even the most acute waystations utilised by the Ultramar and Tau Empires found it all but indistinguishable from stellar debris.

  The bio-fleet moved slowly, well under the speeds that triggered alert responses. It drifted forward with inhuman patience. Its coming was all but silent, invisible to a wide range of sensor spectrums. By the time it was detected, it would be far too late.

  The killing cold of interstellar travel still clung to the bio-fleet, but as it neared the light and warmth of the star systems ahead, instinctive biological reactions brought its myriad organs and composite lifeforms to wakefulness. Ice sheets cracked and sloughed away. Nictating eyelids slid back over pupils the size of bio-domes. As the drifting grotesquerie began to focus, innumerable eyes gleamed blackly in the void.

  Cold. Deadly. Insatiable.

  Spread before the bio-fleet was a banquet of life stretching from the tip of one spiral arm to the other. Light-year swathes of biomass, all waiting to to be claimed. The fleet would consume it all, leaving nothing but barren rock and childless stars in its wake. No real delineation would be drawn between human, Space Marine or tau, nor between plant, insect, or bacteria. To the fleet it was all just biomass to devour, to assimilate, to spawn again as new organisms ready for the next invasion.