Edit: I wrote this up in a word processor and then posted all at once. I just realized that some context might be necessary! I wrote this piece yesterday, with a great deal of inspiration from both Shas'el Tael's wonderful Counterpoint, and Doombringer's two pieces: Origins, and Shan'al Ol'nan. I haven't got a codex or any of the Black Library novels, so I took a great deal of care getting the fluff as right as I could. Accordingly, it would be great if some of the more experienced fluffmeisters who give this a look could tell me where I've gone wrong. Aside from that, all comments are greatly appreciated, especially constructive criticism. It's my first time writing short fiction, and I'll need the help!

I probably won't have the chance to update this too often - I've got a double-credit metaphysics seminar with a stack of reading as long as my arm this semester - but I'll try. In particular it may take me a while to compile enough information to confidently write the mysterious gue'la foes. Thanks everyone for reading,

-Tim

All images copyright Games Workshop or open source. Used & modified without permission.

---

It was after midnight, with sparse, drifting clouds obscuring the stars and a small sliver of moon. The city of Bei’fau glittered over the saltwater bay. A few kilometres away, a nearly invisible streak blurred down through the sky like a black shooting star. Inside the plummeting Devilfish, Shas’ui’Tash’var’Co’da’yen rode through the sickening vibration as the chassis coped with the strain of terminal velocity. What an ui’t of a night, she thought. She was short for a Fire Caste warrior, but not squat like the Earth Caste tau. Lithe and wiry, she didn’t look as muscular as other Shas, but early scepticism over the success of her eugenic programming had bred a chip on her shoulder. Her slender build belied strength so surprising, she’d earned the nickname “Kroot’ui,” behind her back. Now, she was strapped alongside her squad, hurtling towards the ocean at breakneck speed, wearing a pressurised drop suit. The disposable suit kept the blood from leaving her head when the Fish pulled high-g manoeuvres. Her six-tau pathfinder reconnaissance squad had been out on a pilot training exercise since sundown – covert littoral insertion, orbital dead-drops. Their specially modified Devilfish APC was towed up into the upper atmosphere by heavy-duty tug-drones, and, with all systems blacked out, they performed a nosedive into the ocean. Sensor-blind, the pilot was supposed to engage the anti-gravitic drive seconds before impact, braking from terminal velocity, and plunging under the surface at barely safe speed. Their usually nervy pilot had been having trouble with the timing - braking too early. After many attempts, the tug-drone fuel was running bingo and they hadn’t hit the water yet. Co’da’yen was tired, her team was exasperated, and she was surprised Bei’fau’Uash’O hadn’t broken the simulated comm-silence to pull the plug on the exercise already. It had been a long night. She thought of getting back to the barracks and finally getting sleep when the anti-grav kicked violently in, scattering her thoughts in a wave of nausea. She could feel her organs squishing themselves into her ribcage, and her blood thumping against the pressurised drop-suit as the APC’s vibrations surged to full-out thunderous quaking. Experience told her the pilot had hit it right this time, and she mentally recited a sio’t meditation in preparation for impact. The jolt of hitting the ocean surface pushed her to the edge of unconsciousness, and she cursed the Fio theoreticians for pushing the manoeuvre so close to physiological limits. Still, they had a job to do finally, and the thrill of performing her genetic destiny eclipsed her unsettled stomach. Now out of reach from the theoretical enemy’s aboveground sensors, the Devilfish booted its systems, and Co’da’yen felt her neural link tap into the local network. Or rather, she didn’t. Uash’O wasn’t online. Her helmet’s tactical visual overlay scrambled as the military neural net program rapidly adjusting to compensate for the absence of previous command structure. All C&C functions were re-routing to... her? That couldn’t be right. Co’da’yen quickly pulled up a live map of Bei’fau’s total deployment geography. No forces registered. The Fish’s transponder wasn’t picking up anything other than her pathfinders. Her team was alone.
"Shas'la, systems report!"
“All systems green, Shas’ui,” the pilot called back, “no damage on entry. What are your orders?”
Co’da’yen considered her options. Her team were the elite covert-ops force of the Tau military, and they had been deployed behind enemy lines many times. Being alone without support was nothing new. She broadcast her response to the whole team.
“Shas’Tash’var’ar’tol will already have an RRC inbound, they will need intel on the ground. We move in to Bei’fau and do the insertion we’ve been training for.” She hit the master arm, signalling weapons-hot. Then, she pulled up a map on her helmet’s overlay, and marked the shoreline insertion point for her team, “To’Tau’va!”

*****
“We are arriving on schedule, Kor’el,” the Kor’ui piped up from his navigational console.
“Excellent,” replied Kor’el’Ksi’m’yen’Sun’yi’Y’eldi, as he rose from his chair, “inform the Shas’el immediately.” They were en route to Bei’fau’ya, a small agricultural planet on the outskirts of the Tash’var sept. They had dispatched to respond to a long range distress drone, but because Shas’Tash’var’ar’tol was still embroiled in the seasonal orkoid uprisings in the opposite end of sept space, only his vessel and its single attached Rapid Response Cadre were available to respond. He idly ran over the data on the planet again. Apparently, Bei’fau’ya produced a lot of rice in magnificently engineered, stepped mountain paddies, though Sun’yi knew it far better for its only city’s use as a military training centre for urban cadres and brown-water operations. As he rose from his chair, commander Sun’yi struck the paradigmatic figure of the Air Caste. He was exceptionally tall, even for a Kor, and stood a full head-and-a-half taller than his tallest inferior. Sun’yi surveyed the work of the bridge staff as he moved about. The Command and Control centre was the nervous system of the cruiser. It was a circular chamber with a large, holographic viewhub projector in the centre of the room. Around it, like ripples in a pond, were three-deep trenches with consoles manned dutifully by Air Caste operators in curved, crescent seats. From these stations, they monitored everything from historical starcharts to the torpedo count, and each was able to pump their data into the main viewhub. Each console section had a Kor’ui at one corner coordinating their la’rua team and providing oral reports when necessary. Fondly, Sun’yi let himself drift into memory as he strode about, remembering his earlier days as a Kor’la Barracuda pilot over the deserts of T’ros. They had had to specially retrofit his cockpit to make room for his height, and the grumpy old Fio’vre had been very unhappy about it. Still, his superior reflexes and lateral force tolerance had made him an expert natural flier. He exhaled a sigh. In a cockpit, you always had eyes-on, and you learned always to look first, act next. Not so for him now. Now that he commanded a cruiser, he was required to pop out of long-distance jumps effectively blind. Sensors could not operate after skimming the Vash’aun’an because of interference. El’Sun’yi did not like being blind, and war, he meditated to himself, favoured the side with the most eyes.

This fact was, however, what made the communal holographic viewhub at the centre of the chamber one of the Fio’s greatest technical triumphs. In the pressure of a combat situation, the bridge team was able to instantly process and manipulate vast quantities of data in an easily digestible visual format. Sun’yi remembered his gruff old Kor’vre instructor, “it means you see, think, plan, and do faster than the enemy.” It had been a long time since he had been in training – three trials of fire ago. He was older now, war-weary. It was no longer the old days, when pure subterfuge could capture an entire sept of systems. Consolidating the Third Sphere was costing a lot of blood. He inhaled sharply, feeling the well-conditioned air of his starship pass through his sinuses. It had been a long time. His reverie was broken by the chirping of the Kor’ui at the helm.
“We are entering the Bei’fau’ya gravity well in, 4, 3, 2...” the Kor’ui broke off as the planetary system popped up on the viewhub.
“...Multiple hostile contacts on close-range sensors, mass-classes 6 through 4, low Bei’fau orbit, evasive Sha’is-7...,” the Kor’ui continued to rattle off enemy information, as the holographic planet became awash in hostile icons. Rapidly analysing, Sun’yi barked orders, “Arm torpedoes, prep the birds for launch. All stations, blackout signatures. Helm, bring us about, bearing two, two, six – I want darkside geo-synch plus three with satellite-one,” As he spoke he saw the viewhub update with his new trajectory, curving away from the planet. They were outmanned and outgunned – there was no way his cruiser could survive combat with all the craft in the planet’s skies - but no one had seen them yet. If the cruiser kept a low electronic profile they just might make it behind that moon....

*****
Several decs later, Shas’el’Vior’la’Myr’ray was still furious as he paced through the halls of the cruiser. His huge, muscular frame lunged restlessly through the corridors of the ship, displacing flustered Tau’la wherever it went. His shrewd, dark eyes glared ahead and he mulled over his unenviable position. He was deep in hostile-occupied territory, with no hope of reinforcements. Myr’ray sighed; war was a clever animal. No one had made a mistake, but they were the victims of circumstance. He knew how thinly Shas’ar’tol’s resources were stretched this season, how bad the be’gel raids were. No more than one cadre could be spared for a small agricultural world – but this? It was completely untenable! Sun’yi, Aun guide him again, had had the presence of mind to scurry into orbit behind the planet’s only moon, shielding them momentarily from detection, but they couldn’t hide forever. Meanwhile, the comm staff had been unable to raise any Tau presence on the surface in the decs since they’d arrived. A Tio’ve - three Tash’varese cadres! - had been on training exercises in the city, but now they had disappeared without a trace. So here they sat, like the eggs of the flightless dho’doa, ready to be plucked. Myr’ray’s frustrated mind moved in circles; they could not sit here forever, as the element of surprise slowly wasted away, but if they moved they faced defeat in detail. He paused his stride, seeking to calm himself with a sio’t meditation, but it was no use. Until the hot-blooded Tau could bring his keen, tactical mind to bear on a viable action plan, his temper would keep flaring. Luckily, at that moment, one of the small por’vesa drones that hummed about the ship caught him in the hall and played its message: he was needed in Command and Control for a briefing. Myr’ray set off resolutely to C&C hoping the intelligence was good enough to put his concerns to rest.

Moments later he was striding over to where Sun’yi stood consulting with the dour, stocky Fio’vre chief engineer and the Kor’vre Barracuda wing leader.
“Tau’fann comrades,” Myr’ray fought the anxiety in his voice, “what news?”
“Tau’fann, Shas’el,” Sun’yi replied as the others bowed. Myr’ray detected a slight furrowing of his friend’s brow. Sun’yi knew well how much the Fire Caste commander disliked inaction. “We have much to tell you – Kor’vre?” Sun’yi motioned to his colleague.
“Thank you, Kor’el.” The wing leader turned to Myr’ray and directed his attention to the viewhub hologram, deftly manipulating the three dimensional space with his hands They were looking at their ship hiding behind the moon, with the planet looming large beyond it. “As you know, Shas’el, I have been running a Barracuda CAP with low electronic profiles and sensor suite retrofits. In these patrols, we have been able to peek beyond the moon here, here, and here,” he said, picking out the air patrol’s glowing paths around the satellite. “With these glimpses, we managed to make contact with the thermospheric polar comm-sat relays. They were powered down, probably knocked out by some sort of EMP concussion, but we managed to bring their AIs back online.”
“You were able to do that without alerting the hostiles?” Myr’ray queried, “I’m impressed.”
“You are gracious, Shas’el,” the Fio’vre grunted in her low voice. “We transmitted a tight-band emergency boot protocol and programmed the relays to bury their sensor activity under electronically ‘loud’ systems checks. As long as no one looks too closely, we should be able to keep the ruse up for a rotaa or two.”
“And until then,” continued the wing leader, “we have a consistent, clear picture of Bei’fau’ya’s orbiting gue’la hostiles and a skeletal idea of what’s happening at the surface level.”
“So it is gue’la, then?”
“Indeed Shas’el, but they are using unfamiliar vessels we have not encountered before. Allow me.” The Kor’vre swooped the image in on the planet itself, winking seven angry red blips into existence along faint orbital trajectories. “These three cruisers are geo-synchronised directly over Bei’fau city. They’re mass class 6 – the size of our vessel – and seem to be mostly for military transportation. Precise orbital vector data from the relays calculates them as empty, excepting minimal crew. Any forces they might have contained are probably on the ground.”
Sun’yi carried on, “These present little threat to us. They are outfitted with defensive weapons, but they should be no match for this cruiser. The real trouble is these four corvette escorts, mass classes 4 and 5.” The icons lit up in sequence, following his words. “Their weaponry is crude, but destructive, and we cannot manoeuvre our way out of four dogfights at once.”
Myr’ray frowned, seeking a tactical opportunity in the mess. “Excuse me, Kor’el.” He reached out to the hologram and took hold of the image, spinning the planet about until they were looking on from what had been the far side of Bei’fau’ya. The city and moon were on the other side of the planet, along with all the hostile orbiting corvettes. Pointing at the blank topology, Myr’ray questioned, “why could we not simply prepare the cadre’s atmospheric Manta insertion in this hemisphere? We could then have your comrades fly us, nap of the earth, to the occupied capital. With the element of surprise, a combat SAR mission might be possible, even against a superior force.”
“The Kor’el proposed this as well, Shas’el,” the Fio’vre replied, “but I was uneasy about the lack of surface information. When my engineers tweaked the sweep protocols on the relays, we found several latent jamming layers embedded in the background cosmic radiation. We pried through this and,” she gestured to the viewhub, “the entire planet is effectively under surveillance by some sort of class 2 survey vessels.” The planet came alive with dozens of small icons trawling over the surface. “They’re not expressly military, as far as we can tell – they’re essentially massive sensor arrays – but there are too many eliminate without one contacting the real military force...”
“And without the element of surprise,” Myr’ray concluded, “any search and rescue would be folly. What are these sensor arrays for? What are they surveying?”
“Exactly,” El’Sun’yi interjected, taking control of the briefing, “That is the real question. These survey vessels seem to be blasting the planet with deep, VLF pulse-scans. So whatever it is, it’s deep in the world. But things become even more curious from here. Observe.” The hologram blurred as it zoomed in on the city of Bei’fau, skimming down over the mountainous agricultural zone, the paddy-steps like a giant’s stairways. Sun’yi spoke as the view settled over the metropolis, “These are only historical data,” he said, as he created a shimmering bubble over the hologram, “we were not originally able to detect anything inside these limits because of this active dome of energy interference. For all that our standard sweeps tell us, the entire city could be destroyed, along with the surrounding countryside.”
“Aun help us!” Myr’ray exclaimed, “could that be so?”
“We very much doubt it is, Shas’el,” the Fio’vre cut in with a rare, wry smile. “We can’t get anything into the area, but were able do dig up a lot of buried traffic coming out. We speculate communications can only exit, but not enter. We cannot decrypt their outgoing signals, but we can trace them backwards!” By way of explanation, the shimmering sphere projected over Bei’fau dissolved and unit counters appeared on the streets and in the sky, blurring and blinking in and out as they moved about the city.
Sun’yi continued where his engineer left off, “The ship-board computers are taking the best estimates of force type and projected deployment from what little we’re able to eke out through the distortion bubble. Our best projections put their ground-forces in the city at about one six-cadre Tio’ve with significant air-to-surface capabilities and an armoured detachment. They’re mostly engaged in patrolling the city, but there is one pocket of concentration here, just outside the city, that has not moved.”
“That is curious. What are they doing?”
Sun’yi looked at his friend dead in the eye. “They’re digging.”

Part Two

Edit 2: Just the friendly public works kor'vesa, filling some plot-holes with rockcrete. Improved 46.2%
Edit 3: Additional improvements added. Now at 49.0%
Edit 4 & 5: Added link and coverpage. 56.5%

Wow. Excellent! Love all of the tech-speak.

*Bookmarked* Can't wait for the next part!

Thanks so much for the read. I'm glad you liked it. As I said in my revised introduction I haven't really written before - I've just read a lot. I was a bit worried over all the tech-speak. It's a lot of handwavium, and I didn't want it to go too overboard.

This is really great stuff. I felt immersed in the scenes and all your tech talk really helped. I'm excited to see what direction this will take! I'm surprised that this is your first time at writing! You have done very well for your first effort!

Thanks for the encouragement Wolf! It's not my first time writing anything, but all my previous work has been poetry though! I'm about 750 words into part two, but I'm stalled doing a bit of research and some story-mapping. I think I'm going to have to fill some plot-holes in Part One.

Unless people want shorter sections? If enough people who read this PM me, I could post every change character perspectives or locations.

No, longer is nice. It lets you get more engrossed in the story.

Part 2 incoming... BAM!

---

Down on the world’s surface, six dark figures were slowly slinking towards the rocky shoreline that rose up to the magnificent architecture of the coastal metropolis. Slithering through the muck, Co’da’yen could feel the fine, sandy ooze seeping uncomfortably into her clothing. She pushed a halt command through her pathfinder team’s neural link and they all froze. “Eyes on the ridge,” she pushed, “and drop your re-breathers.” Up ahead, the city of Bei’fau was dark but for the eerie lighting from unfamiliar skimmers flitting about the skyscrapers. They had disembarked from their submerged Devilfish a few dozen tor’lek from shore, and the team had swum the remaining distance to reach the dark sand. Cursing the cold water, Co'da'yen mentally reviewed their assets. They had their pulse carbines, a rail rifle, several EMP grenades, and a pair of six-legged, urban surveillance drones. These Mal’caor’vesa, each about the size of a dinner platter, were designed scuttle ahead of the team in the tight confines of urban combat, clearing rooms covertly before the team breached. The only asset they lacked was information - and they were lucky tonight. The wind was blowing out into the bay, and Co'da'yen took a deep breath of inland air, letting it percolate through the hypersensitive olfactory organs in her sinuses. The salty scent of decaying seaweed and tide pools mingled with the starchy, freshwater smell of the terraced rice paddies far away. Deep in the folds of the air currents, she smelled gue’la flesh, but somehow, something was not right about it. Gue’roi was usually easy to pick out – especially with the concentrators in a pathfinder helmet. It stunk pungently of the perspiration and body salts secreted from the gue'la's moist pink skin. This was different though, it was gue'la, but it was muted, buried – deadened somehow. She parsed another breath for scents, picking up faint traces of unfamiliar machine oils, and... what was it? They were too far inland to tell. The coast was clear though, so she pushed the order to advance. Rising out of the surf, they sprinted over the pebbled beach into the cover of the rock slope. One two-Tau fireteam took lookout positions over the grassy lowlands while the remaining four took a breather. Co’da’yen removed her helmet, feeling the night breeze on her dry, blue skin. She found herself watching their hoofprints vanish under the sweeping break of successive waves. How had the three cadres in Bei’fau disappeared like so many tracks in the sand? Her mind raced for a moment, then quickly she snapped herself back to the present. First things first.
“La’rua,” she asked, “what do you make of the gue’roi?”
“It is not their familiar stench, Shas’ui,” responded La’Jiyho, her fire-team partner “but it is undoubtedly them.”
“Agreed,” piped La’Gor’san. The Bei’fau native looked skyward, “And whatever gue’la they are, they are in orbit.” The group went silent for a few moments looking upward as they judged the sky against star charts from their didactic implants. Gor’san was right; seven stars didn’t match.
“La’Ufo” Co’da’yen spoke up, calling the Devilfish pilot, “is PolSat still down?”
“I’ll try the uplink again, Shas’ui. Standby.” Co’da’yen held her breath, thinking rapidly. If the polar relays were destroyed, they had little chance of making contact with any help that might be sent. The orbiting hostiles would keep any Cadre sent in support out of reach. Even with the APC’s advanced array, they wouldn’t be able to reach beyond orbit without telemetry data, and with Uash’O’s local transponder network inoperable, they needed something to else to boost their signal. The relays would be perfect.
“Shas’ui.” It was the pilot.
“Go ahead La’Ufo.”
“I have a ping on PolSat, but no uplink. My ping shows it talking, but to whom I cannot tell. The atmospheric comm-freqs must be jammed. It sends no acknowledgement of our signals.”
That was almost good news. Active sensors – the “ping” – showed the relay sending signals, and that meant there was someone, somewhere it was talking to. If only it could talk to them! It was good to know there were friendlies either on the ground or in the skies, but they had to deal with the interference or they had no way of coordinating anything. Co'da'yen recited the sio't in her head. Warriors fight together, but die alone.
“The ECM’s origin?”
“The city centre.”
“So be it,” Co’da’yen resolved. “Shas’fann, uplink with PolSat is crucial. We move double-time up the coastline, keep low profiles, and evaluate Bei’fau’s eastern gate. Meanwhile, La’Ufo will advance into the harbour to feed us MASINT collected by marker beacon. We enter the city next nightfall and destroy that ECM device. Questions?” With hard looks her Shas’la donned their helmets in response. Co’da’yen burned with pride and slammed her helmet on her head. “Then let us teach these gue’la about manifest destiny!”

*****
“TAU’FANN, KOR’EL. YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUIRED IN HANGAR FIVE.”
“Jikita’aun!” Sun’yi swore at the por’vesa drone as it retreated out into the corridor. He checked the time – barely a few decs of sleep – and rose from his bed with a heavy sigh. The pad slid into the wall as Sun’yi donned his uniform and booted up the didactic implant inside his right temple. As soon as he checked the info=feed, he began to sprint for the hangar as fast as his lanky gait could carry him. Someone had contacted the polar relays!

Sun’yi burst into the vaulted hangar and was greeted by the familiar, sleek profiles of the Barracuda fighters. The row of aircraft stretched down to the hangar’s end, and the entire deck was filled with the tumultuous ebb and flow of the various kor'vesa that kept the CAP flying. As aircraft rose on an elevator from the launch bay below, lumbering tractor drones rumbled over to drag them to a berth. Re-arm kor'vesa carefully lugged ordinance to the Barracudas' drop-down bays, and small, snakelike re-fuel drones rose up from their slots in the floor to shunt helium and replace it with fresh hydrogen. Swarms of small mechanical drones worked in teams to whisk off and replace armour panels, revitalise internal systems, and repair micrometeorite damage. Against the wall, on a long, elevated platform, squat Earth Caste engineers managed the workflow of their charges and discussed equipment calibration with Air Caste pilots. Searching the platform, Sun'yi's expectant eyes quickly found Myr’ray. The Shas was in an alcove with the Fio’vre, nodding with interest as the engineer manipulated a 3D blueprint on a small viewhub. Sun’yi strode over to meet them, dodging a tractor drone on its way to the latest aircraft arrival.
“Tau’fann Kor’el,” the Shas’el grinned as he looked up, “we are graced with good news for once.”
“From whom was the signal sent? Have we managed to triangulate their location?”
With an apologetic bow to the Fio’vre, Myr’ray cleared the blueprint and took prise of the viewhub hologram. He brought up a small hologram of Bei’fau city. “The Fio’vre backtracked the signal to this point, merely seven tor’kan west of city limits. It was a pathfinder Devilfish trying to uplink with the relay. Of course, the relay AI could not find them through the disruption bubble, and without its reply, they will not know that it heard them. It follows that they will not know that we know they are there. It seems they risked a ping, so they must know they have allies, just not that it is us.
“From the APC’s serial we were able to pull the active personnel from training records on the day Bei’fau’s distress call went out. They were conducting simulated orbital dead-drops so they were off the network for much of the day, which is how they must have been missed by the invasion." The city dissolved, replaced by the six pathfinder’s psychological profiles and operational history. "Interestingly, this gives us a rough enemy timetable. Given the length of time the Fish was off the network, the window was very, very small - something less than 5 decs. This suggests that the military force down there is highly organized.” He pulled the Shas'ui's record and enlarged it. “The stranded team is led by her, Shas’ui’Co’da’yen. She earned the name ‘Nightmare’ on Gro’tah during the Y’he invasion. She was running recon on her first mission deep in the jungle when the cadre’s supporting cruiser got hit out of nowhere by some spaceborne organic suicide bomber. She was picked up 8 rotaa later, the only survivor of the entire pathfinder complement. We are lucky. Ui’Co’da’yen is exactly who we need on the ground. Given her profile and experience, I believe that she will be moving towards the city to eliminate the disruption bubble and contact the polar relay. Evidently, we need to get a message to Ui’Co’da’yen’s team.”
The Fio’vre crossed her arms and frowned, “Unfortunately, we have no Remoras, and a Barracuda could never slip through the blockade over the city. Even with all systems running at minimum it would be saal’s play to detect and destroy it. Still, establishing even one-way communications would give us vital, ground-based intel to work with.”
“And?”
“The universe holds no greater engineers than the Fio, Kor’el.” the Fio replied seriously. She brought up the blueprint again, “I have Fio’la’rua 2 and 5 gutting the interior of a Barracuda cockpit. With most of the contents removed like so, we will be able to strap a modified DX39 inside.” She picked up the holographic shield drone, demonstrating how it would nestle on its side in the cockpit. “Once we have reworked the piloting software, we will insert a stealth field generator here. We detach the cockpit from the fuselage as during an emergency ejection. Given the separated module has its own anti-gravity thrusters, it is able to guide itself. I will rig the canopy with small kles’tak detonators for releasing the drone once inside the low atmosphere. It is auto-manoeuvrable, stealth-equipped, and capable of delivering a self-mobile AI package. It is the perfect delivery mechanism.”
The aging Kor'el was becoming excited, “And how will our drone find the pathfinders once it hits the ground?”
“Ah, with the Shas’el’s help on operating doctrine, I have plotted likely routes the Shas’la’rua might take, and my programmers have created a special search protocol for the drone’s AI. To’tau’va, Kor’el, we will locate those pathfinders.”

*****
Far below, dawn was just below the horizon. The six pathfinders slunk rapidly between the rocky ridge overlooking the beach and the grassy, shrub-filled lowlands. Their helmets swivelled to and fro searching for any sign of gue’la patrols. Co’da’yen was beginning to wonder if the intruders had withdrawn to the city when her overlay suddenly erupted with an alarm.
“Contact,” grunted La’Jiyho from her right flank as the team hit the dirt. His markerlight's hyperspectral mor'tek-tor'il-wave picked up a group of bodies a tor’kan or so ahead. Though obscured by the brush, they glowed hot on her overlay through the obstruction. Co’da’yen’s didactic implant tallied 12 bodies.
“Weapons hold,” Co’da’yen pushed calmly through the comm, “keep them lit.”
“Affirmative.”
“I have no visual, can you magnify?”
La’Jiyho pulled out a field scope, locking it magnetically onto his helmet’s optics cluster. Co’da’yen pulled up Jiyho’s real-time video-link as he magnified the patrol. They were gue’la, but these weren’t like any gue’la she had seen before. They were huge, and seemingly half-vehicle. Extensive mechanical modifications marred their bodies, including large weapons replacing their limbs. Her implant detailed a deadly assortment of heavy weaponry: plasma cannons, fully automatic gyrojet grenade launchers, and close-combat power claws. An icon flashed as the stress readings on her team spiked, and she could see their heartbeats race. The grotesque beings drove instead of walking, heavy tank-treads spinning where their legs should have been. Most unnervingly, their faces were shockingly expressionless. The gue’la were such an emotive race, their faces so malleable, so animated, that these soulless, empty faces sent chills down Co’da’yen’s spine. Behind them, they towed an anti-grav barge that carried something the size of a Piranha under a massive, ornate shroud. The cover was enveloped in archaic, embroidered symbology, and from time to time a mysterious gue’la - he? she? It? – would appear from its shadows. It was garbed in deep red robes trimmed in black and white markings like the primitive gears in a little Fio’saal’s engineering primer. Out of its back protruded all manner of sinister robotics: pneumatic arms, metal tentacles, and claws. As if each was motivated by its own disturbed mind, the limbs kept stroking and picking at whatever was under the shroud. The pathfinders lay still, watching the procession move eastwards towards the spires of the city, now only a two tor’kan or so away. The threatening convoy finally ducked away into a small valley, and the Shas relaxed visibly.

Jiyho broke the silence first.
“What, by the wisdom and grace of our holy Aun’va, was that?”

Part Three

Edit: Readability has now been improved by 23.2%. Please excuse the friendly public works kor'vesa!
Edit 2: Cumulative improvement now 33.6%.

This story really keeps getting better and better. It's so well written! I really like your inclusion of Tau words and phrases. And you don't have a codex or any BL books? Where did you learn this stuff!?

Do you have any tips for people trying to write a narrative? For my Tau Log I wanted to include some short stories that show my characters in action. I just have a hard time really getting my thoughts fleshed out on paper though. Any advice/tips you have would be welcomed! I've already received a lot of help from ATT members, but I can always improve!

Where did I learn this stuff? When I write, I do it with my .pdf copy of Couterpoint open, and like a million threads where Doombringer weighed in on fluff issues! I also do a lot of fussing around on the Lexicanum, various 40k forums, and on Wikipedia entries on modern military technologies. Occasionally, I'll consult with the US Marine Corps Doctrine Manuals that're somewhere on this site... ah here. The Command and Control document begins with a story to illustrate its precepts, and I found it extremely helpful in imagining a realistic communications network.

Advice? I've got two suggestions, one each for both the long- and short-term.

(1) Read what you want to write. Heck, read anything! It's the best advice I got in my creative writing course for poetry. Reading gives you an instant familiarity with the language and plot construction of professionally edited, commercially approved writing. That knowledge is invaluable, because it allows you to synthesize a broad range of story-writing into your own style, and gives you a bank of ideas to draw from when you get stuck.

(2) Show, don't tell. I always hated the way this rule is phrased, but it's also good advice. Instead of telling a reader what's going on, show them. Exposition is boring to read, so if possible, you want as much information to be picked up "incidentally" as possible. For instance: Here, I set the scene by just telling the reader that the hangar full of planes and working Tau.
It's okay, but contrast it with: Here, the reader just follows Sun'yi across the room, and incidentally picks up the same information as before, without having to sit through a bunch of exposition. They both have their place, but showing is often better.

This also applies more broadly to narrative-building for your cadre (I've been following your thread, by the way, good stuff!). The questions I'd ask are:

• Why do you want to write a short story for your nid-fighters?
• What important qualities or characteristics do you want to demonstrate?
• They've developed some interesting customs - why? How do these customs evince the cadre's character?
• More importantly, how can you dramatise all this so that the reader discovers these things?

I hope that helps, keep updating!

Wow, this stuff really helps out a lot! Thank you so much. (This is actually some really good info. Maybe there should be a Sticky that contains advice like this for aspiring authors...)

You've given me a focus now and I think that is what I need. (When left to my own devices I tend to lose foc- Hey, who wants to go for a bike ride!?) Seriously though, I won't clutter up your thread with writing of my own, but perhaps I may drop you a PM after I've written a little; maybe even the answers to your questions. But thanks for your kind words on my Log; I didn't think so many people liked it!

Anywho, that's enough about me. I'm looking forward to your updates!

That.. was a good read. I am also humbled at your thoughts on Counterpoint, additionally so, because I have been lax in publishing the final chapters.. among a dozen ADD suffering projects. Though in my transit as I travel, no doubt writing will pass the time.

I like your gradual introductions and scene work, also your military writing is very tight. Not so much as to be bashing your head with quasi-doctrine, but enough to show organised structure to language and communication of such individuals.

Critique? Hmmm, very simple stuff and something I constantly re-read to find in my own work. Double word usage. for example;

First paragraph, Part Two

Now, it seems pedantic, but the close usage of a word or its extensions cause a mental ba-dum-tish! in my mind. If ever there was a time for a thesaurus, this is it.

A variation to play with in my mind;
"..she found herself watching their hoofprints vanish under the sweeping break of successive waves, leaving no trace of their passing. How had the three cadres in Bei’fau disappeared so similarly? She considered for a moment while watching the scene, then quickly snapped her mind back to the present, first things first:"


Noted this one read poorly, just some word swap outs.

Maybe a play on;
"Their abandoned Devilfish was submerged several dozen tor’lek behind them, the team having swum the remaining distance to reach the darkened shore. They had brought their pulse carbines, a rail rifle, several EMP grenades and a pair of six-legged surveillance drones. The la'rua's two Mal’caor’vesa, each about the size of a dinner platter, already scuttling on ahead to expand the team's sensor perimeter."


Overall, only issues I had with it over a quick read. Oh! The fio bay was cool, but there was an over emphasis on the amount of fio'la running about, by the fourth inference I really did have the impression.. there were a lot of Fio about

The scene with the Fio and the Shas'El was nicely put together, enjoyed that one.

type on!
Tael.

Very interesting! That writer's resource you posted was very helpful. Waiting for the next chapter.

Goodness! Thanks very much Tael, for the comments and - I presume - the promotion!

Fear not pedantry, good sir, for thine ministrations to my humble manuscript are the very... uh... something of... uh... they're spot on. Concerning the "disappear ba-dum-tish", I think I forgot to take my own advice and read that section aloud! I detest these kinds of errors. Rereading the hangar scene also made me laugh. You'd think there were Fio'la clambering over each other like rats! Actually, I'm thinking that it might need a small overhaul of content too. It occurred to me that Fio'la might not be engaged so much in physically mucking about with aircraft maintenance, but would instead be coordinating the work of drones. My vision of the hangar deck has changed substantially, and I already have the urge to change it! In turn that would mean that things (hopefully) would get a lot less crowded!

I have dispatched the public-works kor'vesa. To'Tau'Va!

You have me solidly beaten. I truely am shockeed that this is you first fluff story! Below Val'kyra is my first attempt at writing period. I would also like to quietly add....MORE!

-Airborne

Thanks Airborne, I actually followed Val'kyra before writing my piece (I lurked for a veerrrrry long time!), and it was great to see it unfold. Your writing got better as you progressed, which was truly inspiring.

Again, I want to stress that my story didn't just leap forth fully formed from some deep wellspring of personal imagination. I read a lot before I ever started to compose it, and as I did compose it I read even more, edited ruthlessly, and "killed a lot of darlings." Speaking in metaphor: if Caveat Imperator were a sculpture, she would be bathed in my blood, sweat, and tears (... ewwwwww). She would also have felt the work of many, many hands in her making; I'm indebted to so many sources, not the least of which are: my creative writing professor from three years ago, the cautious encouragement of my partner, my overeducated parents' library, and the huge font of wisdom and inspiration that is ATT. Thanks guys!

On a more sombre note, Part Three may take a while. For any of you who think philosophy is an easy major, I have 197 pages of readings with names like "Naming and Necessity" and "A Theory of Justice" to do by Friday. It kind of sucks, because I'm really excited for what I have planned for the next part. I think it's going to be really fun to write!

I liked this story. I liked this story so much.

Then that simple like bloomed into obsessive, stalkerish love the moment I read: "The group went silent for a few moments looking upward as they judged the sky against star charts from their didactic implants. Gor’san was right; seven stars didn’t match."

What I'm trying, poorly, to say is that I really like your story and want it to have babies with my story. Or, I mean, maybe not. Whatever. Don't want to be coming on too strong.

---

Now that we've established my unadulterated passion for all things Didi et Gogo, a few comments and criticisms:
- I was thrown a little at the very beginning. My first inclination was "when they hit the water, something in the Devilfish broke, and that's why the Pathfinders are all alone on the comm." I thought the tau reacted too quickly without first checking technical issues - but given that my problem could easily be hand waved ("All systems are green, Shas'ui. It isn't us," said the pilot.) I really can't harp on this too much.
- You must have watched BSG. Awesome! Also, our descriptions of a Tau bridge are strikingly similar; even if not intended, I find the continuity extremely pleasing.
- I hate to admit it, I really do, but I sometimes got lost on the tau words - like, for instance, our protagonist's nickname. That said, you did a good job eventually defining it later, so I can't complain.
- You write the tau really, really well: competent, driven creatures that use technology intelligently. No piece I've ever read has captured the tau sense of manifest destiny as well as you - every tau in this story knows the Empire will succeed. Except arguably the aged Kor'el, and even he is a believably tau character. I also like the politeness your tau show; I can never capture that in my writings.
- Co’da’yen is a cold professional, as best I can read her. It struck me as odd that she be the one to blurt out at the end of the second section. Just sayin', just sayin'.

Seriously, the only reason I have so many is because it's much easier to respond to a well-written work. Thank you for posting such a magnificent story; I eagerly await the rest.

Ah those are some nice edits. Reads a lot smoother through the infiltration sequence. Look forward to the third part, till then.

~ Tael.

Kroot'aun. I can't fall asleep when I've received such compelling comments!

Elliott, of course our stories could have babies, but I fear the Tau of their progeny would destroy or assimilate the Imperium, the Craftworlds, the Hive-fleets, the C'tan, Commorragh, all Ork spores, and the Chaos Gods. All that would be left would be stories about how nice it was when the Old Ones invited the Tau over for tea parties.

I'm actually really proud of the star-matching bit. It was such a stroke of inspiration, and it just conveys how darned good I wanted the pathfinders to be. They're integrated so seamlessly with their technology that they can tell from the ground how many spacecraft are in local orbit just by looking at the sky. They are not your mother's recon troops.

(1) I've actually felt on several re-reads that the dialogue after the event is lacking somehow. This was it.
(2) I watched BSG religiously, and all I can say is that if I am ever the Prime Minister of Canada, I will make it constitutional law that all spacecraft must be run like Cold War-era submarines. Also, the similarity is kind of eery - I hadn't seen your story!
(3) I did try to strike a balance, but I'll revisit that if I can. My goal was to not explicitly explain any of the military jargon if I could - i.e. show don't tell - but it's really hard. I'll see if I can sneak some better "show" style explanations into there.
(4) Thanks for the compliment, looking over the manuscript you sent me, I have a relatively simple quick-fix: cut out contractions. I debated whether contractions should be used for the sake of military efficiency, but I thought, "they're supposedly speaking in complex poetics," and decided to capture that formality instead.
(5) I agree.
The public works kor'vesa has been dispatched according to your recommendations, Shas'el! Expect improvements of 8-10%

Tael, your advice helped a lot. I trimmed your suggestions, as my style is slightly less imagery-laden. (...a fact that I find fascinating in general. The way that others suggest ameliorating one's writing is like a small glimpse into - no, a small glimpse from another person's conception of the piece.)

Sigh. As usual, school is whupping my d'yi. Progress on Caveat Imperator moves steadily along, if not rapidly. I'm about 1250 words into this next "and the plot thickens" section. Hopefully I'll be able to post in the... NOW!

I just finished the section. It's not perfect, but the edit button is my friend and I'm tired. In particular, I've taken some leaps of faith on the answers to some fluff questions. I expect some of these will have to be modified or excised later, but we'll see. In other news, my envy of Tael's professional-looking Counterpoint coverpage finally boiled over. I downloaded the GIMP, found a tutorial for Sepia-fying images, and rolled off a gajillion little chapter-headers and stuff. You can check out all the ones I made here, Enjoy,

-Tim

---

Considering his surroundings, Jakrad Terriwin al Kubanesch tested the soaring chamber with a yell. The vocal eruption echoed through the cavernous foyer of Bei’fau’s Ar’tol governance building, dying eventually after climbing far away into the lofty heights above him. The foyer was oddly empty now. The bustle of what must have been a crowded centre of government was gone and the Rogue Trader was alone in its empty shell. It was like looking at a skull, Jakrad thought, the seat of the body’s government drained of substance. Glad to have the moment of solitude, he closed his wild hazel eyes and his mind wandered. It was a masterful piece of architecture, he thought, drifting in meditation, and he reached out a soft hand to contemplate the smooth rise of a spiral walkway. The walkway rose steadily around the circular perimeter all the way to the top of the tower, fifty or sixty stories above. He cursed softly. The xenos had done it with no evident superstructure, no visible support girders – as if the land had risen forth from itself and coalesced into an administration building. Ingenious. Too bad he had gassed the little blue buggers. The Imperium made such a big show of exterminatus orders, but there were more efficient ways of getting populations out of your way - especially if you were interested in souvenirs other than radioactive glass. His forces had, in fact, just finished clearing the corpses from the building where he stood. They would be finished loading the trucks outside soon, and moving all the bodies to rot somewhere beyond the city limits. Jakrad was not squeamish about death - indeed he was no stranger to xenocide - but that many dead things begin to smell.

Then, his mind slipped. Jakrad thought of how different his surroundings were from the contrived, claustrophobic spires of the Hive city where he was born.

To think back on the past was dangerous. There were dark and maddening secrets that lurked in those corners of his mind. Jakrad had been born buried in the under-sewers of an Imperial megapolis an orphan, and the things he had seen as a child had broken him. The monsters of his childhood still haunted him, dragging him towards the clutches of total insanity. His meditations had slipped from his control, and now his mind fumbled as it wrestled inwardly with the clawing hands memory. The eerily familiar tactile hallucinations began to creep across his skin. Jakrad let out a whimper he felt slender, feminine fingers slide around his throat in a languid caress. Were they Hers? He whipped around, crying out Her name,
“Elena!”
But instead of the fragile girl he was greeted by the empty smile of a monster. Her eyes were cold and black, and her slender hands gripped his neck like claws. Jakrad’s eyes rolled back and he stumbled and fell to the floor, smattering cold sweat and saliva on the smooth surface. Gasping for air, his mind grappled and convulsed. He had to keep Her fingers from grasping his heart. Another psychic spasm broke his grip on reality and then he could see Her clearly looming twice his height. His eyes spiraled and twitched, unseeing in his head and his teeth ground together. The bones in his body could feel Her supple, evil shape corrupted and mutated. She raised her hand, the palm scarred with the branding of a thief, and She pointed at him. Jakrad burned with insanity and raised his arm over him, collapsing on the ground. As darkness closed over him, he heard the distant calls of someone he knew.

He awoke to find himself gazing up at the disappearing vault of the Tau building.
“You’re awake, my liege?” It was the low basso of his master-at-arms, Froman Tillich, echoing in the chamber.
“Yes, Froman. Get me water.”
The master-at-arms was an odd character, almost as infamous as Jakrad himself. Few but the Trader knew the true story. They had escaped the hive together when Jakrad received the Warrant and had been blood brothers ever since. Now, Froman held out his canteen, looking on with concern. Jakrad reached fretfully for the Warrant of Trade. The thin cylindrical case on his belt, a leather-bound sheath was worn to a shine from years of absentminded caresses. It was his anchor, his aegis, his reminder that adventure could always carry him further from the haunting past. Signed before the Heresy in the hand of the exalted Primarch Rogal Dorn, it placed him amongst the ranks of the Rogue Traders. Eccentrics, playboys, warlords, demigods – they were by their peculiar legal status, exempt from much of Imperial law. Though Warrants normally passed from one generation to the next hereditarily, some invented bizarre processes to determine where their powers went after death. One of these Trader eccentrics had chosen Jakrad to inherit his Warrant. It turned a billion worlds into his playground; under charter's protection he could travel anywhere he pleased, beyond the reach of Imperial law and sanction. And travel he had, running from the monsters of the past. Gripping the case, Jakrad was buoyed, swimming upwards again, away from the dangerous reminiscence. He recited a mantra in his head, each word pulling him higher as he chanted in silent rhythm. I have danced with the Ynnoett on the ice-world Hauhth and wrestled with cokodrils in the swamps of Dagoobeh, Jakrad gripped his Warrant tightly and rallied himself further, I am judge and executioner, owner of a thousand worlds! He spoke aloud the final words: “History is not my master.”
Composed, Jakrad sat up to face the imposing frame of his master-at-arms.
“Froman, what news from the dig?” Jakrad asked,
“My liege,” he replied in his rich bass, “they have recovered eight more fragments from the surrounding country, but the Explorator claims progress at the main site is slow.”
“Well Chief,” Jakrad grinned unsettlingly, “let us go talk to our good Cultist friend and see what he can do to speed things up.”
“As you wish my liege.”

The huge doors slid silently open at his approach and he withdrew from the shadows of the Ar'tol building and his troubled conscience, stepping into the light of the sun. His protectors were bunched in closely about the door, ten deep and twenty men across. Their front ranks remained watching the now empty, lifeless street while the inner ranks closed in on him to protect him with their body mass. The 200 young warriors were the only people he trusted in the galaxy; he had personally raised each of them from their infancy, snatching the sewer-dwellers from the subterranean darkness of Hives, the abandoned misfits of far flung tribal societies, the unwanted children of women taken as spoils of war. He had scraped the bottom of the social barrel for the outcast babes of the human race and taken them in as his own. Jakrad had nurtured them, carefully propagandized and programmed them, and when they had finally grown they guarded him with their lives. Some said men couldn’t be trusted like a lobotomized combat servitor could be – Jakrad knew Traders who wouldn’t let anyone near them but machines – but he thought bodyguards with minds intact were better. They were able to shoot and to die, but more importantly, they were able to think. Though many had suffered horrible wounds defending Jakrad from his many would-be usurpers, those wounds had become strengths. After careful cultivation of contacts in the Mechanicum his coterie had served as guinea pigs for radical fringe augmentations. Enhanced by numerous and fearsome biomechanical weaponry, they were a wall of metal, flesh, and violence. They served him well.

Through the rows of guards, Froman Tillich, Jakrad’s chief guard appeared, carrying the Trader’s heavy-duty carapace armour. There had been xeno drone sightings in the city, though none had been rooted out. One could never be too careful.

*****

Shas’el’N’dras’M’an had earned her name, “Nomad,” wandering the arid mountains of her native planet as a little ’saal. She could not remember how she had convinced the watchful Por Nurturers to let her run off, but she had sought nooks and caves in the rocks where she practiced meditation – imagining childish new sing-song sio’t verses, and reciting them with mock duty. She had so few memories of that time, having left with the N’dras Exodus before she had even passed her first Trial of Fire. Perhaps it was better that way, she thought. The Exodus was a confusing time, and if the Aun do not speak of it, it is best left unsaid.

Now the Shas'el found herself in caves like those of her youth, but under terribly different circumstances. M’an’s command, a Kavaal of three Tash’varese Cadres, was packed deep below the rice paddy mountains of Bei’fau - alongside the paltry remains of other surviving military units. Above them, in the city, tens of thousands of Tau lay dead, victims of some hideous gas. M’an strode alone through the unnaturally consistent maze of passageways, ducking occasionally when her towering, two-tor'lek height grazed the dark rock ceiling. Her Shas’vres were elsewhere, she liked to be alone to contemplate – something her subordinates probably chalked up to the “untrustworthy” nature of her Homesept – but she didn’t care. Thinking clearly was more important. Cramped in the darkness of labyrinthine corridors, her Shas huddled together around the blue light of portable generators, their cold glow twinkling in the crystals embedded in the walls. Some tended pulse rifles or nibbled from their fortified ration-bricks. Their available matériel was sparse, only whatever man-portable equipment had been salvaged during the invasion. Her troops were exhausted from the absurd game of hide and seek they were now playing with the gue'la scum. It was a terrible mess. Suddenly, an Earth Caste Tau appeared from around the corner. Bowing slightly, he fell in step with her tall stride without missing a beat.
“Tau’fann Shas’el, we have not yet met, but I am Fio’la’Tash’var’Nir’uda. I was not with the Fio’fann who originally discovered the Anomaly, but they have recruited me in their rotation to make up for their small numbers.”
“Tau’fann, Fio’la, what news?”
“The geological survey team has re-mounted the sub-sonic listeners. Their preliminary evaluation is that our IEDs worked as expected, but they have not bought us much time."
"How much, Fio'la?"
"No more than four to six decs before the gue’la intruders continue to drill after us. With all the seismic data amassed, the team was able to estimate the augers' weight at 450 to 480 bar’kan.”
“So we are safe again for now.” M’an muttered. The system could not work for much longer. Soon the Fio geologists would tell her the massive augers were nearing their position again, they would pack up, plant their booby-traps, and escape still deeper into the caverns. The few Fio attached to her cadre who had escaped with her forces had rigged ingenious improvised explosives – cooking oil and hydraulic fluid! – but they could only delay the relentless advance of the augers. Permanent damage would require real, military-grade kles’tak they didn’t have. Eventually, the caverns’ space would run out, and they would have their backs against the wall.
“Thank you, Fio’la. Tell your brethren their continued labours are appreciated.”
As the Tau walked away from M’an she wracked her brain for answers. How had the invaders managed to strike upon the city so quickly? Did the discovery of the Anomaly in the mountains somehow precipitate the invasion? Most importantly, how were they going to get out of this mess? With a few exceptions her line troops were green with only a cyr or less of combat experience. They had been dispatched to Bei’fau to learn new operational doctrines for the rim of Tash’varese space. None below the rank of 'Ui had fought a real campaign. Until now, they had been blooded only on ragtag bands of feral orks, or on mop-up missions after larger operations. As she continued her tour through the caves, she read the faces of her warriors for morale. Worried eyes avoided her gaze, and brows furrowed above tight frowns. Many of her troops were reciting the sio't of sacrifice under their breath, and their breathing came in the little, rapid chuffs that denoted stress in her species. She felt a small twinge of sadness, feeling the beloved Empire falter. If only she knew how the Aun-forsaken gue'la had done it!
Instead of a sio’t of sacrifice, M’an recited one of perseverance. The Spheres were not won by climbing the backs of the dead. Her mind was decided and she began preparing a speech in her head. She dispatched the first Shas’la she found to gather every Shas’ui and Shas’vre in the chamber. The dense layers of rock played havoc on their comms, and all messages had to be run through the caverns on hooves.

Soon, M’an entered the main chamber herself. Her hooves crunched on the shale chippings covering gently sloping floor as she searched for an optimal place from which to speak. The main chamber was a huge natural room, one of a regular series that dove deeper and deeper into the mountains core. Mysteriously, the Fio told her, though the tunnels twisted and turned, the cavernous chambers appeared at regular depths. As the Tau had escaped further and further into the tunnels, the chambers had become more and more spectacular, and this one was no exception. Each re-location brought the crystalline formations that populated the caves closer and closer to the ceilings. Now they were massive columns, refracting the cold light of M’an’s electric lantern into a thousand tiny rainbows that illuminated the entire chamber as if under a blue sun. It was a large enough room to hold a thousand or so Tau. It would easily hold her ten officers of ’Ui rank and higher. M'an leaped up onto a fledgling column to get a vantage. From here she could see the whole room, and her voice could carry to everyone. She was not one for speeches, but in these desperate times....
“Shas’el!” It was the same Fio’la as before, running from the corridor as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. “Shas’el, come quickly, the Fio’ui has discovered the source of the anomaly!”
“Fio’la, explain yourself! What is it?”
A hurried consultation with the breathless engineer and her eyes went wide. A small smile crept across her lips as a plan began to form in her head. It was not exactly doctrinal, but her options were few, and this? This was remarkable news – unbelievable! She already knew it would raise her Shas’vre’s eyebrows, but her bond-brothers would have to swallow their concerns. Risk begat reward, and the gue’la would never expect this!


Part Four

Edit: Preliminary fixes for clarity. Population calculations will engender more edits.
Edit 2: Retooling of significant latter portions. Much of Bei'fau population now dead (oops!)

Ooh la la, look who has some fancy graphics now! Are those made by yourself, or are they Tael's work?

I enjoyed this chapter because it gave me an insight into a world I am not familiar with. The Rouge Traders are fascinating to me because of their relative independence in Imperial Society. They just seem so exotic! I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes. Keep it up!