by Phil Kelly
Y’eln could not shake the feeling that something malign was inside the room with her. She turned, and her heart turned to stone inside her chest.
A spectral apparition, hideous and simian, leered from the corner near the communal basins. She grabbed her notation disc and made to still-capture it, but the thing faded from view. She blinked, her forehead wrinkling. There was no more evidence of the creature’s presence than a lingering, unpleasant smell.
Y’eln forced her heartbeat to slow, telling herself the phenomenon was due to lack of sleep alone; there was no need to raise the alarm for a night-cycle hallucination. She had been under so much pressure recently that mental distress was only to be expected.
There was a crackle of green energy in the corner, and the gangling creature reappeared. Its reedy laugh haunted the cusp of hearing as it met her gaze, sunken eyes burning green in the skull-like mask of its face. It pointed a long, gnarled finger right at her, and then slowly drew it across her throat.
Y’eln screamed. In the darkness around her, a hundred starving tau children began to cry.
6-0
Research bay 21, Bio-dome 1-1, North Hex, Arkunasha
The utter sterility of the research bay was a balm to the fires raging across O’Shoh’s mind. Here, order reigned supreme. Every elegant white curve, storage pod, press-niche and dataport had been systematically cleansed by rad-drones. In the bays and laboratories of the bio-domes, not a single lifeform existed without the earth caste’s consent.
In the centre of the bay was a large, lozenge-shaped cryocasket, held aloft by a hoverplinth. The casket was large enough to accommodate a stealth battlesuit. O’Shoh walked around its edge, eyes panning across its sensor spectrums. His broad forehead creased, numerals from the radiological scans reflecting in the deep sheen of his skin.
The readout showed the skeleton of a large ork, its details picked out in blue-white light. Dense muscle was rendered around it in indigo, its skin a thick layer of violet.
Such animalistic power in the brute’s frame, thought O’Shoh. It was little wonder the orks proved so formidable at close quarters.
The earth caste scientist who had introduced himself as El’Vesa walked slowly around the cryocasket, stubby fingers tapping upon a hovering notation disc. O’Shoh watched with interest as the scientist’s wide eyes flickered up and down the cryocasket’s data displays. His face was rapt.
The commander made a small gesture for El’Vesa’s attention, but was not surprised in the least when it was completely ignored.
Shas’vre Ob’lotai stood with his arms folded in the corner of the room. The old warrior had been waiting outside the research bay when O’Shoh approached, greeting his commander with a small smile and the locked fingers of the Tau’va. He knows his commander well, thought O’Shoh.
El’Vesa’s notation disc moved in to scan Ob’lotai’s life signs, but a swift backhand slap sent it wobbling away with a bleep of alarm. Luckily, its owner was too preoccupied to notice.
‘It is a prevalent theory amongst my caste,’ said El’Vesa, suddenly looking up at O’Shoh, ‘that the smaller orkoids are the young of the species, and that their females are hidden underground.’
‘Is that the case?’ said O’Shoh, one eye still watching the data spooling across the cryocasket.
‘It may well be. I personally believe the smaller, slave caste orkoids to be only distantly related to the warrior caste.’
‘How so? Genetic castoffs, perhaps?’
‘We can only speculate at this time. I theorise that the orks are hermaphroditic, and are capable of asexual reproduction – perhaps via podding, or a form of posthumous fission. This cadaver may allow me to reach a conclusion. For that, you have my thanks.’
‘We just need to know how best to kill them,’ grumbled Ob’lotai, ‘not how to make more.’
‘Our esteemed comrade El’Vesa believes identifying their breed patterns might yield an early countermeasure,’ said O’Shoh, ‘and hence prevent further generations being birthed. Am I correct?’
‘Quite so,’ said El’Vesa, showing his broad, flat teeth in a smile. The scientist tapped at one of the cryocasket’s sensor suites with a wand-like data probe. Translucent streams of holographic information twirled out from the probe’s end, feeding into his notation disc. ‘We kill them before they are born.’
The crisp, sterile air of the research bay seemed to somehow grow stale. Ob’lotai was standing bolt upright, his features hard as stone. He stared daggers at the earth caste scientist. It was a look O’Shoh had seen before, and never without consequence.
‘A war waged against the young is without honour,’ said Ob’lotai, his voice cold and full of danger as he quoted the tau maxim.
O’Shoh moved over to stand by his old friend, putting the hand of calm upon his forearm.
‘Ob’lotai speaks wisely, of course,’ he said smoothly. ‘The orks appear bestial, and beasts at our door must be culled. Yet they are undeniably sentient. We cannot bring disgrace to the fire caste by essentially attacking their young.’
El’Vesa finally looked up, a shadow of confusion on his features as he pulled a pair of second skins onto his nimble hands. ‘More self-imposed limitations,’ he said, his head cocked to one side. ‘Regardless,’ he continued, knocking on the cryocasket, ‘there is much to learn from our silent friend here.’
Turning away, the stocky scientist tapped a deft sequence on his notation disc. The cryocasket’s vents hissed tiny broadsides of ice-cold air, and the skin on O’Shoh’s forearms puckered slightly.
The lid of the casket raised, slid silently to one side and folded away. The temperature inside the room dropped even further before the environ nacelles in the ceiling compensated for the change in temperature. Yet they could do little to override the eye-watering stink of burnt ork flesh.
The monstrous corpse inside was twice the size of a fire caste warrior, even one as large as Ob’lotai. It lay twisted, trunk-thick arms contorted either side of a torso hollowed front to back by a plasma bolt. Its grotesquely protruding jaw hung open in a silent bellow of pain. Above it, porcine eyes squinted from wrinkled pits.
El’Vesa thumbed his data probe, and a suite of microcameras unfolded on its swivelling tip like the petals of a flower. Leaning over the lip of the cryocasket, the scientist held it inside the creature’s blackened torso, muttering clipped observations to the notation disc hovering nearby.
‘Anomalous ork specimen, full maturity. Closest known physical analogue undoubtedly the krootox. Similarly exaggerated musculature, extremely fibrous.’ El’Vesa poked at the cadaver’s flesh with a gloved finger. ‘Extraordinary muscle mass suggests an alpha life form. This was a prime specimen. Compliments to its procurer, Commander Shoh.’
O’Shoh nodded once in recognition, beckoning Ob’lotai in close to inspect the corpse. His old friend took a single step forwards, his distaste palpable.
‘Cause of fatality… the aforementioned commander,’ said El’Vesa, glancing at O’Shoh with a slight smile. ‘Massive plasma trauma to the torso. Near instantaneous demise. Many vital organs missing entirely. The remnants…’ El’Vesa lifted a flap of grisly red-black meat to expose a dribbling swamp of flesh, ‘are already in a state of decomposition.’
Ob’lotai wrinkled the flat of his face as ever-fouler smells emerged from the corpse’s innards. O’Shoh filtered them out with a flicker of thought, instead focusing on the data spooling along the base of the radiograph.
He started, stepped back for a moment, and then came in close.
Sure enough, the violet layer around the indigo muscle mass was bleeding a constellation of tiny bio-signs. Each was far too small for the naked eye to see, but the hoverplinth’s sensor suite was picking them up in great number. It displayed them as tiny specks expanding out into the room. O’Shoh felt queasy to think he may be breathing in tiny flakes of ork skin.
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br /> ‘Honoured El’Vesa,’ said O’Shoh, covering his mouth. ‘I believe there are microscopic bio-signs breaking away from the cadaver.’
‘Autoimmune response inactive,’ said El’Vesa, lost in his analysis. The scientist thumbed a sequence of buttons on his camera-tipped wand. ‘Nervous system catastrophically compromised. In theory, we can still explore its parameters with minor auxiliary electrical stimulus. Hypothesis test one imminent.’
There was a crackling snap, and the cadaver jerked, its fingers clenching, before falling still.
‘Honoured El’Vesa,’ said Ob’lotai, ‘is that really–’
‘Hypothesis test two, doubling electrical stimulus.’
There was a blue flash, and the corpse convulsed hard. O’Shoh moved in, eyes narrowed.
‘Please, El’Vesa, this may not be wise.’
‘And test three…’
Another flash, and the corpse twisted upwards with a belching exhalation of gas that turned into a bellowing roar. Eyes red, it shot out a gnarled claw and caught O’Shoh by the throat.
‘Abort!’ cried El’Vesa, stepping back and dropping the data-wand in shock. ‘Abort!’
O’Shoh put his legs against the hoverplinth and pushed, doing his best to lever away the ork fingers gouging into his neck. Its grip was unbreakable. He could feel his lungs beginning to burn as he struggled for breath.
The greenskin elbowed itself upwards, reaching out its other arm and backhanding the earth caste scientist into a wall-mounted press-niche. A hidden drawer of shaped foam hissed open at the sudden impact. El’Vesa sprawled senseless to the floor, knocking stubby laser scalpels from their insets.
Ob’lotai came in hard, shoulder-barging the thing’s arm in a crunch of snapping bone. The ork roared and whipped its head sidelong, gouging one of its tusks into the meat of Ob’lotai’s forearm.
Fighting the instinct to prise away the greenskin’s thick fingers, O’Shoh reached for the bonding knife at the small of his back. Black spots swam in front of his eyes as he tapped open the ceremonial scabbard. His legs burned with the effort of staying braced. He let his knees give way suddenly, and the creature pulled him close.
Close enough for him to embed his knife into its neck.
The ork reared backwards just as Ob’lotai hammered a blocky fist into the side of its head. The hoverplinth rocked crazily, and with a crash the cryocasket toppled over.
Still held around the throat, O’Shoh was yanked down to the floor. Yet the sudden twist caused the ork’s grip to slacken. Seeing a weakness, O’Shoh slammed the flat of his hand hard into the brute’s arm. Its elbow joint buckled, and it let go.
O’Shoh staggered back, wheezing in lungfuls of raw pain. The greenskin sprawled sideways from the upended cryocasket. Thrashing in a puddle of its own blood, the ork grabbed the knife stuck deep in its throat and ripped it free.
As the half-dead thing was pushing itself upright, Ob’lotai kicked it square in the jaw. Enraged, the greenskin reared up and brought both arms round, smashing its fists straight through Ob’lotai’s guard. The blow sent the big shas’vre sprawling into the corner of the room, his head colliding hard with the edge of a metal table.
O’Shoh scanned the research bay for his bonding knife, but found a laser scalpel instead. He scrabbled over to it before keying it to maximum yield. A thin rod of ruby light blazed at its tip. Behind him, the ork reared up to its full height, bellowing in confusion and anger. Through the gaping hole in its chest O’Shoh caught a glimpse of Ob’lotai, slumped and bleeding. Unbidden, the lessons of Puretide rose to the forefront of his mind.
Where the foe has strength, blind it.
O’Shoh darted around the ork’s flank and pointed the laser scalpel towards its face with a shout. The hulking greenskin took the bait, looking around with jaws yawning wide. The commander whipped the laser scalpel across its eyes.
Black gore bubbled from the ork’s sockets as it flailed its arms around wildly. O’Shoh rolled underneath its rangy swipes, but a dirty nail caught him across the forehead, nearly taking one of his own eyes. Heavy claws smashed into neatly stacked sample dishes, scattering them across the floor.
Where the foe has certainty, confuse it.
O’Shoh backhanded another cluster of sample dishes stacked on a curved bench nearby, sending them clattering to the other side of the research bay. The blinded ork turned its head towards the noise, ruined eyes weeping black fluid. It took a thudding step before sniffing the air, its grotesque nostril-slits flaring.
When the foe seeks you out, deceive it.
Raising the laser scalpel, O’Shoh climbed atop the empty hoverplinth and pointed the ruby tip at one of the environ nacelles in the ceiling. Almost immediately a fine rain of analgesic liquid sprinkled down, its crisp tang unmistakeable.
The blinded creature sniffed for O’Shoh’s scent again, but the smell of medicinal fluids filled its nostrils instead.
The ork bellowed its anger to the ceiling. It swung a club-like fist, denting the wall behind. O’Shoh made himself small, rolling towards a fallen plasma saw behind the cryocasket. The ork spun with shocking speed at the noise, fanged maw yawning. O’Shoh grabbed the first thing to hand – El’Vesa’s notation disc – and smashed it into the greenskin’s teeth, thumbing the recall button. Tiny holographic anatomies flickered amongst strings of ork drool.
A gnarled fist came in hard, smashing O’Shoh across the room. He felt ribs break, and the sick burst of a lung puncture. The ork staggered after him, listening for sounds of movement, but the malfunctioning notation disc jammed in its mouth was replaying El’Vesa’s observations at deafening volume.
‘The ork physiology is extremely robust,’ blared El’Vesa from the notation disc. ‘Its precise physical limits are currently unknown.’
The beast bit through the notation disc, splintering it into shards of plastic and fizzing wire. El’Vesa’s recorded voice gave a distorted swoop, the sound surreal over the beast’s frustrated growl.
And when the foe shows weakness, slay it.
The ork lumbered by, completely robbed of its senses. O’Shoh emerged from the fallen cryocasket and scooped up the plasma saw with the end of his foot. He flicked it up to waist height, caught it and thumbed its activation node as he padded around the back of the greenskin. The saw’s urgent buzz filled the air as it projected a crackling beam.
The monster turned. O’Shoh swung the saw diagonally upwards with a shout. The sparking beam at its tip carved the top half of the ork’s head from the bottom.
Blood flew, and the remains of the notation disc shed fat sparks. The mutilated cadaver toppled forwards, its jutting chin crunching down hard.
O’Shoh watched the creature’s corpse for a moment, but it remained still. He spared a quick glance for El’Vesa’s unconscious form.
The scientist was still breathing. Good enough.
The commander scrabbled over to his fallen fire caste comrade. Ob’lotai was sitting awkwardly in the corner, drawing only ragged, shallow breaths. O’Shoh’s bonding knife was stuck deep, punched up through the warrior’s breastbone. Blood pulsed around the blade. It fanned out across the floor in a red delta.
‘We need to get you to a proper med bay, old friend,’ said O’Shoh. ‘It’s bad – I won’t deceive you – but likely not fatal. This will soon be but another scar.’
The veteran’s watery black eyes met O’Shoh’s. The expression there was one of profound sadness.
‘Shoh… you must… keep your focus,’ he panted. ‘We must… rise above… the beast within…’
Ob’lotai fumbled his fingers together in a clumsy gesture of unity, and slumped to the floor, as lifeless as stone.
7-0
The Rust Wastes, Southern Hemisphere, Arkunasha
O’Shoh sat alone in the control bay of the disc skimmer Constellation of Hopes. In silence he watched the r
ust dunes slide by under the viewing area’s transplastic floor. The communion console nearby pulsed an urgent red, its musical alert chords soft but insistent as it flashed up El’Vesa’s holographic ident. He ignored it, just as he had ignored it a dozen times before.
The commander gripped his bonding knife tight enough to hurt. He noticed with detached interest that his knuckles were white, a range of scarred bone like the caps of the Kan’jian peaks. His mind flew back to his ta’lissera bonding ritual, and his heart beat faster still. He had shed blood there, on Mount Kan’ji, forming a sacred bond with two young tau who meant more to him than any other.
More even than poor dead Ob’lotai.
The old warrior’s body had already been sequestered by the earth caste, sealed away in preparation for the death rite. Ob’lotai, his closest friend, whose lifeblood still stained O’Shoh’s hands and his bonding knife. The ceremonial blade was black with the stuff.
After his ta’lissera ritual upon Mount Kan’ji, a tiny trail of Kauyon-Shas’s blood had stained the side of the knife’s ornate leather grip. He had never washed it off. It was a treasured remnant of the sacred bond they shared, and their connection since their parting. Now it had been obscured by the blood of another, and was likely gone forever.
The realisation drove a spike of despair into O’Shoh’s gut. To use the ceremonial knife as a weapon outside the ta’lissera was bad enough, but for an alien to profane it by killing a trusted member of the Tau’va? That was unbearable. It was as though the ork had taken part of O’Shoh’s own body and stabbed it through the heart of his friend. It had robbed him of his calm, his perspective and his self-belief in one grotesque act of vandalism.
As the command disc hovered effortlessly across the Arkunashan dunes, a mangled corpse slid into view far below. Then another, followed by the remains of a third.
