Ha! Ooh la la indeed! Nah, they're not Tael's, though I'm flattered that you thought they might be.

I just used native colour-match utility to figure out the hex codes for site colours, then, following this tutorial for making sepia photos, I substituted the blue colour for the orange. A little cropping and so forth, and I had nice monochrome images that fit thematically with ATT.

I'm glad you liked the Trader, I had a lot of back and forth about whether he would be good or totally crazy. I opted for a mix, I think.


As a general shoutout: If anyone has read the Mechanicum novel, I'm going to be needing a fair bit of canon Adeptus Mechanicus info, and some help would be appreciated. Please PM me if you think you can answer my questions - promptness isn't super important.

Well shoot. Now you have tempted me to make some graphics for my own project log! Thanks for the link, by the way.

When I think of Rogue Traders, I think about the explorers of old who traveled to places like Antarctica and all the other horrible places God never intended man to go. They seem to have that mix of zeal, curiosity and absolute insanity. I think you're achieving that well.

As for the Mechanicum, I have no info on that.

I'm surprised that I managed to finish this - I've been slogging through A Theory of Justice and I almost put the story on hiatus. However I just wrote this in two sittings yesterday and today, and it hardly took me two hours each day to do it! I hope that the ease of writing it doesn't belie suckiness. So often I have to badger my writing into goodness that I'm suspicious....

Comments and critique, as always, are welcome and encouraged. I'm curious whether the suspense I'm trying to build is working? I hope that everyone enjoys it!

+++
Well, it's had a master-edit now. There are still some things probably wrong with it, but I think I'll let them slide for now. I added a largish section where Jakrad considers his relationship with Iulius the Magos. Hopefully this gives it some more heft than before, as I thought the portrayal of these two characters was the slimmest and sloppiest.

-Tim

---

It was dawn. The dark indigoes of the clouds were giving way to the delicate pinks reflected from the sun below the horizon. The easy lap of the ocean sifted gently over the soft sands of the beach, and the grasses rustled in the light wind. Soon the white-hot sun appeared over the waves, and its light glinted off the glass of Bei’fau’s distant spires. As the stars vanished in the light of day, a few seemed to smudge momentarily. Squinting, one could almost make out the smudge, a blur drifting down from the heavens. It was as if it were visible only out of the corner of an eye, but disappeared when looked at directly. The blur glided this way and that, finally disappearing into a small copse of trees overlooking the ocean. The calm was disturbed with a rapid series of small thuds and little flashes of white light that sent a flock of birds into startled flight. Two metal stalks emerged above the treeline, hovering there for a moment before they rose further, revealing a Tau drone. Still somewhat groggy after its unorthodox delivery, the drone’s AI finished its preliminary threat assessment of the surrounding area, and – finding it safe – went through its systems checks. The long descent from the moon had shaken its central memory unit enough that there could be gaps in its protocols. Finding that none of its hardware had been permanently damaged in the perilous transit through the atmosphere, the drone’s AI booted its primary protocols. Loading the probable route of its pathfinder quarry it set out to find them, skimming low through the rolling, grassy hills. The hunt was on.

*****

“This is it then.” remarked Jakrad as he stepped out of the Rhino armoured transport into the mass of his bodyguard. Before him lay the dig site, a massive hole into the side of the coastal mountains that hemmed the city into the sea. It was a pit of mud and rock, almost a mile in diameter, and swarming with members of the Adeptus Mechanicus and their cyborg servitors. Several huge drilling machines, wide and tall as a mighty Land Raider tank and twice the length, were boring into the living rock as servitors rigged with massive hoses cooled the spiraling drills with seawater pumped from a few kilometres south. Squirming in the churning grey ooze behind the drills, hundreds of labour servitors toiled to haul away the detritus left in their wake. Jakrad cringed. It had cost him a fortune in political and monetary capital to coordinate these assets. Setting up the pumping stations throughout the city and acquiring the chain gangs of ex-criminal servitors from the Mechanicus had been a nightmare. There had been no way around it, but they were a vulnerably long part of the logistical chain, and it bothered him. As confident as the Explorator and his camp were, he had his suspicions about their vaunted gassing of the city. He had destroyed populations before, and you never could tell who might survive. Anyone resilient enough to survive genocide always caused problems. The Rogue Trader scowled. They had to finish this dig quickly and unearth the Machine, or the Tau might be able to send reinforcements. He had dealt with their xeno empire before – and they were tough fighters with frightening strong philosophy.
“Shall I take you to the Explorator, my liege?” It was Froman Tillich who broke his brooding.
“Yes, Mr. Tillich. Take me to the rat.”
The two hundred bodyguards squelched through the sludge into the pit, moving slowly and cautiously towards the centre, where a rudimentary metal scaffold overlooked the movements of the drills. It was the obvious nexus of the operation; a swarm of servo-skulls swirled around it, flitting off to various locations about the dig and city. They monitored progress and gathered information, bringing it back to the man on the platform at the centre of the action. This man was Iulius Excelsiae, Magos Explorator, and techpriest of the Cult Mechanicus of Mars. The red robes of his office were caked in dirt and mud, and his many mechadendrites – wiry, twining metal tentacles grafted directly to his nervous system – curled about him excitedly as he watched his magnum opus unfold. Unusually for a cultist holding Magos rank, he did not have any other overtly visible augmentations besides the dendrites, though Jakrad knew that underneath the robes he was more machine than man – a clockwork with an obsession. As the Trader and twenty of his bodyguard tramped up the stairway of the scaffold the whirl of servo-skulls parted and the Magos whirled around. His face was shrouded beneath his hood and his back was turned, but Jakrad could feel the man’s neurosis burning from where he stood.
The Magos spoke without turning round: “Jakrad Terriwin al Kubanesch. The Omnissiah has blessed this place. Welcome to this hallowed ground.”
Jakrad had no time for religious reverence, “What is this you’re telling me about delays, Excelsiae? We’re running out of time, and my regiment can’t hold off a counter-invasion. You remember our agreement?”
The Magos whirled around and his eyes locked with Jakrad's. “I remember, Trader. I would never forget your ‘help.’” He drenched the last word with irony.
“Throne’s damn right you won’t! When I found you on that moon you couldn’t even get off the little rock. You wouldn’t even be standing over your God’s damned right fist if it weren’t for me and mine, so you’d better get your men back on schedule!” Jakrad would drive his advantage as hard as he could. Explorators were not very well liked by their more conventional cultist brethren. There was precious little that the Imperium or a Mechanicum Forge World would have done to refurbish the mission of someone like Excelsiae in the first place, but when he became stranded on a desert moon his luck had truly run out. Jakrad had offered the Magos a devil’s bargain, and Iulius had sold his soul.
“Let the xenos come, al Kubanesch,” he spat, “we will be on schedule, and they shall know the light of the Omnissiah’s wrath.”
“Emperor’s balls they will!”
At the insult, the techpriest’s dendrites flared up, but his voice stayed eerily calm: “You are a fool, Trader. Anger will not alter the will of the Machine God. Even you shall learn to respect this resting place.” Jakrad’s bodyguard closed ranks, menacingly training their lasguns on the cultist, but he was oblivious to the threat. The Magos turned away absently from the bristling weapons and continued. “The Signal’s emanations have induced the growth of crystals in the rock. I believe this is what wears at the ceramite of the drill-bits and disrupts their machine spirits. My Enginseers are praying and working as hard as they may to put them back in rotation, but it has compromised my estimates.”
“How long?” Jakrad growled.
“The Lexmechanic now foresees another three of this planet’s days.”
“I swear on the seat of His Golden Latrine that I will leave you here to fend for yourselves if it takes any longer!” Without waiting for a reply, the Rogue Trader stalked off, thundering down the steps of the scaffold into the grey muck. “Fire up the Rhinos,” he yelled ahead, as his bodyguard scrambled to keep up, “and tell them to take me to my harem!”

Some time later, Jakrad was deep in thought in his transport as it trundled along the empty streets towards the temporary buildings that formed his headquarters. The three-day delay could be worked around if they didn’t recover all the servitors. He hated wasting assets, but once he had the Machine it would hardly matter anymore. It was a damned shame to leave them all though. Penal servitors always had uses. He scowled. He trusted the Explorator less and less. The grip he had over him had weakened as the Mechanicum cultist neared the prize, and now he was open in his defiance.
“My liege?” The concerned basso of his master-at-arms interrupted his thoughts from the bench across from him. Since his morning episode, Froman had been very cautious when he withdrew in himself. The hallucinations had been getting worse in the past months.
“I am in my mind, Froman, don’t fret. But I think our clockwork friend is planning to betray us.”
“The Magos? How so?”
“I don’t know. But he no longer feels the fear that he should. If he gets a hold of the Machine before we do...”
“Even if he does, what could he, sir? All the ships in orbit are our own, and he cannot move the device off the planet without transatmospheric haulers. There are no combat servitors and we command a full regiment of troops.”
“But I can feel him planning something Froman. He just doesn’t need us like he used to. Even back on that damned moon I thought he might have held something back. No man accepts the bargain we struck! How could he agree to let me have the device after only twenty four hours of tinkering? He would not have sold me his whole soul, not for any price.”
“He is obsessed, my liege. He would have sold his soul for a two-penny whore.”
Jakrad frowned deeply, “No, Froman. He wouldn’t have. He is obsessed, it’s true, but I know something of obsession.” Froman’s face darkened as Jakrad spoke. “If my mind is still here, Froman, so is his. That Machine is something of immense power – it’s been buried under this world since before the Heresy. He has hidden something from us, some power it has. I know it!”
“My liege – my friend.” Froman shifted his muscled bulk forward on the bench and looked his master in the eye. “Beware of finding demons in every shadow. You have enough to haunt you.”
Jakrad sighed. “Perhaps you are right, old friend.” Jakrad would be glad to get to his quarters and his women. The stresses of his day could melt away in a moment of lust. He could forget the morning’s lapse in the warm embrace of flesh. He settled back in silence.

As the Rhino neared its destination a small servo skull unclamped itself from the hull, and, unseen by anyone, drifted away to whisper in its master’s ear.

*****

Co’da’yen’s hackles were on up. Her team was exhausted after their nocturnal run over the countryside, and now, with the sun rising in the sky, they needed sleep. But, she thought, reciting the sio’t, the price of war is constant vigilance, and this latest development was unsettling. She had thought that her pathfinders were safe in the run’al, outside Bei’fau’s eastern gate. The small dwelling was identical to thousands of others throughout the empire, a small subterranean room closed by a hatch. Concealed from scanning sweeps, a pathfinder squad could hole up in these for long-term surveillance of objectives, collecting data so that when they pulled the cadre forward into battle, the outcome was the most decisive victory possible. Co’da’yen and Jiyho had been blearily holding first watch when an alert had brought them to the run’al viewport. It had picked up the electromagnetic signature of an unidentified object that they were now uneasily watching as it floated towards them over the hills. The signature was too small to be from a piloted vehicle, so it must be some sort of kor’vesa, though what kind they couldn’t tell. She wished that the Devilfish were available to provide a scan, but it was off in Bei’fau’s port, gathering intel on the centre of the orbital comm disruption. They had been dodging the sinister kor’vesa of the gue’la all night – those bizarre abominations made of their own skulls – so it might be one of them? Perhaps one had seen them and was searching for their hiding place? She checked the vitals of the four sleeping pathfinders and considered pushing a wake alert through the neural link, but she eased her mind off the trigger.
“La’Jiyho, what do you think?”
“Hard to say, Shas’ui. It searches, but if it searches for us I cannot say. I find it curious though. Its signature masking system is extremely efficient. With technology like that, well... if it were not coming from the hills –”
“- you would swear that it was Tau,” she finished his sentence. “We think alike Shas’la.” They lapsed into silence for a moment. Suddenly, Co’da’yen scowled and switched the run’al viewport’s filter from its combat electromagnetic spectrum analysis to pure visual. Slowly, a smile crept across her face. “Aun be a fool, La’Jiyho!” she whispered. “We are too tired. Look without EMS filter. That is one of our kor’vesa! A shield drone, from the silhouette.”
“Aun be a fool indeed Shas’ui! I wonder if it searches for us?”
“Well, let us find out!” She allowed a small surge of giddiness wash over her, but snapped herself back quickly before opening the hatch. ...constant vigilance. They couldn’t afford any mistakes. She peeked her head out and hefted her pulse carbine out of the gap. Fingering the lower button of the double-trigger, Co’da’yen trained her markerlight at the approaching drone making it burst into light on her tactical overlay. The multipurpose beam was most often used to mark hostile targets, aiming the wrath of the Tau military machine, but it could also be used as a signal light for other Tau units. From the hideout, Co’da’yen could see the drone spin around and point directly at her as it acquired the beams point of origin. It tilted towards them, making a beeline for their position, and its presence announced itself on Co’da’yen’s neural link. It added itself to her squad, and she let out a soft “oh!” as it began uploading a huge packet of information into her didactic implant. The rush of information was dizzying, and she swayed a little. Gripping the side of the hatch, she gathered her senses. This was no ordinary drone! It had been sent by a Rapid Response Cadre. The cadre knew of their presence! It was El’Myr’ray’s RRC too – Co’da’yen had heard of his exploits in the Nh’ba’dsia Campaign. The Vior’lan had walked the edge of a knife, they said, placing his cadre so artfully between the numerically superior Nebadese that he multiplied his force’s power tenfold. Already calculating with the new information she opened the link with La’Jiyho, letting the information flood his brain too. His eyes went wide.
“Shas’ui! We have reinforcements!”
“And one-way comms, yes. I will have La'Ufo make the Devilfish force-transmit to PolSat. Myr'ray will be able to link with our battlenet, though not we with his.” She brought up a city map on Jiyho’s overlay. “The eyes in the sky placed a hostile concentration at the end of 47th and 22nd, here. Their intel says that the hostiles are digging into the mountain face. We need to get that RRC on the ground, but to do that we will need two-way communication. The orders from the Shas’el maintain our original objective, but accelerate the timetable.”
“We move out earlier than dusk?” her fireteam partner asked.
As he spoke, the drone arrived, and Co’da’yen gracefully lifted herself out of the hatch, caught the device, and pulled it into the hideout in one swift, powerful motion. Only once the hatch was closed did she respond. Her reply was cold, and she addressed him uncharacteristically by rank alone: “Shas’la, if something beneath this world is precious to these murderers of children, then by the Aun they shall not have it while I breathe.”


*****

High above, in orbit around Bei’fau’ya’s moon, Kor’el’Sun’yi sat in his chamber, watching the steam rise off his mug of Pech’caffe. It was one of the few luxuries he afforded himself, and he went to considerable lengths to procure it. Something was bothering him about the invasion, but what, he couldn’t say. Long ago he had dismissed the idea of survivors – the gue’la were too savage, too thorough to leave any Tau alive. He had seen the method before, almost certainly gas. Still, he was troubled. His brain began the low throb of caffe-sickness, and he sat back in his chair, feeling his thirty cyr of military service creaking in his bones. Disinterestedly, he began to leaf through Shas’Bei’fau’Uash’o’s deployment records on his small 3D interface for the hundredth time. The verdict was the same: there were some Shas who could have survived the gas, but too few to have to have survived the gue’la that followed. The pathfinder squad was still their only functioning ground-based asset. Almost just to spite his frustrated mind, he brought up Fio’Uash’o’s deployment records and began looking at the history up until the invasion. Sun’yi’s eyes widened as he looked over the last Fio report of the day, by a geological survey team in the mountains. It was the last report of any Tau on the planet. Blinking and struggling his tired eyes into focus, he brought up the history of the days preceding the attack, flagging every instance where the survey team went over the same sector in the mountains. They had been looking at some anomalous energy signature emanating from deep below the mountain paddies, when suddenly they had hit something bizarre. Sun’yi threw all the information aside and engaged a search of Bei’fau’s geological history for the past years – there it was, twenty-five years ago. When he had still been a Barracuda wingman, the Fio of the Bei’fau colony had stumbled upon an odd geological formation and an energy signature emanating from the mountain. Quickly, he pushed the data to the Shas’el and his Fio’vre, and hauled himself out of his chair. His bones couldn’t rest yet. They had work to do.

Some decs later the three seniors of their respective castes had gathered in the Fio’vre’s quarters. Fresh pech’caffe had just been distributed to everyone sitting about the holographic projection table in the middle of the room, and the Fio’vre was in the middle of answering the last few questions about the Kor’el’s findings.
“...ah, I see what you mean, Shas’el. I am not a geologist, but from the records it seems the tremors of early construction were what set off the original Anomaly. It is impossible to say for sure. Given that it was not disruptive to the colony’s growth, Fio’Uash’o never pursued the heteroclite signature, and more detailed investigation did not take place until recently. The strains of the Third Sphere affect the Fio as well, and we have few scientists to spare in most new colonies. It seems however that the mountains next to the city displayed vastly improved rice production compared with a few cyr back. In fact output displays a remarkable geometric acceleration of yield. The geological survey team was dispatched when unique crystal formations were discovered. Then they discovered the cavern network.”
Myr’ray interjected, “So what do you suppose made the caverns, Fio’vre? If the tunnels were really as unusual as these reports make them out to be, it suggests sentient construction, does it not?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Shas’el. Again, I am not a geologist, but a military engineer. Still, it is evidently what the gue’la are after.” The Fio’vre glanced shrewdly at Sun’yi, who had been quiet for a while. “Kor’el, you seem to be holding something back?”
“You know me too well, Fio’vre,” Sun’yi frowned, “I am indeed keeping something from you both. As Puretide said, ‘Hope in war is dangerous for friend and foe alike.’ Perhaps... well, bear with me.” He leant forward and brought up an image of the dig site. “The survey Fio entered into the cavern network through this point here. Not a five-rai’kan walk from there is the 31st Tash’var’Kau’ui under Shas’el’N’dras’M’an just finishing up their urban training manoeuvres in this designated area. The last report from the Fio team expresses uncertainty over the cavern system they discovered, and asks for a military assessment. That is the last logged record before, presumably, the gue’la gas the city a few rai’kan later. My Aun-forsaken hope is that El’M’an is down there now, with as many of her troops as managed to duck into the cover of the caves.” Sun’yi lay back in his chair and surveyed the responses of his comrades.
“Kor’el, my friend,” Myr’ray replied slowly, “your hope is mine as well." He rose abruptly from his chair and started pacing the room, as his deductive mind moved with his steps, "in fact I believe that the remnants of her cadres are almost certainly still down there." he paused, "I am also convinced that what the gue’la seek below the surface of Bei’fau’ya is a weapon.”
“Shas’el? What do you mean?” the Fio’vre asked, alarmed.
“This energy signature, this ‘Anomaly’ is the sort of aberration I have only seen before on campaign in the tombs of artefact worlds where dangerous, alien technologies forbidden by the Aun lay hidden. Kor’el, the geology team asked for a military assessment. What geology team is not familiar with geological energy signatures? Were this some emanation from Bei’fau’ya’s crust, some tectonic peculiarity – well, you Fio know your work better than to call for the Fire Caste! No, The gue'la came with an express purpose, and a plan for genocide. They knew that there was something buried down there. Whatever it is, it is powerful enough - dangerous enough to call for them by itself across the void of space. Nothing emits energy like that that is not treacherous, and nothing is sought after by lesser species with such fervour unless it sheds blood. Yes, I am certain, I would swear by my bond-oath it is a weapon.”
The Kor'el spoke with quiet resolve, "Then the gue'la must not have it. How soon before Ui’Co’da’yen and her team hit the disruptors?"
“The timetable has the objective neutralised in approximately four decs.”
The Kor’el smiled. “Then we shall not rest yet, comrades,” he motioned to a drone, “get me the wing leader. This is going to be - delicate.”

Part Five

Edits: Excuse the friendly public works kor'vesa!

Nice, read very well. Though hiccups at the double mentioned copse description. The drone discovery sequence was enjoyable from a tech standpoint.

Also.. now I know why my pech'caffe orders are being delayed, flaming expeditionary forces and their supply priorities.. hmph!

- Tael.

Oh Tael, if Myr'ray and Sun'yi knew your pech'caffe was running dry, I'm sure they would send a package to your manta by kor'vesa express!

I'm glad it read well, though you're right about the copses. I was writing a little too much like a movie script, and the suspenseful hiatus the second "copse" sentence was supposed to create didn't work. I just excised the line.

Another great update Didi! I enjoyed this chapter a lot since we got to see a bit of the world from all the characters perspectives. Looking good!

++I'm sorry, I can't come to the story right now.++
++I'm out fighting a Warhound Titan with my bare hands.++
++I'll get back to you when I'm done, thank you for your patience.++

Yes, unfortunately I have discovered that I have too little time to update the story until things cool down a bit with my (over-)commitments. I apologise to anyone who was following Caveat Imperator, but Real Life^TM has struck again. Boo and hiss. Thanks everyone who's commented or PMed me so far, I promise that I'll have this back up and running as soon as I can find the time. I can't just leave three pages of furious legal-pad-planning sitting around for nothing!

Cheers,

-Tim

This is very irresponsible. You're choosing to do real life stuff instead of write stories about little blue space men? Where are your priorities man!

No worries Tim. You take your time and then get back to this when you're ready. We'll a;ll be waiting!

Hey everyone, I'm back, as some of you have probably noticed from my scattered replies to a few threads over the past week or two. I am dedicated to finishing Caveat Imperator, but it'll take a little while and I wanted to explain why.

It's been a bad year for me. My mother died this summer from breast cancer that metastastisized to her brain. It is a difficult way to see someone die. Like Alzheimer's, it is as if there are two deaths. Unsurprisingly, it has been a struggle. Her absence has caught up with me more and more as the shock wore off and my scholarly commitments came at me harder and faster.

I'm committed to finishing - even as just a point of pride - but my motivation has been sapped, and the effort now will be greater than when it was fresher and easier to be excited about. Death grants a sort of terrible perspective, and even important matters begin to look a pointless. Still, I've actually recently taken up a bit of editing on what I already have (I'm horribly displeased with Jakrad's introduction), and will be unleashing revamped Parts Three, Four and, eventually Five and beyond. Co'da'yen et al will see justice done on the gue'la scum.

Be in good spirits,

-Tim

Oh my, I'm so sorry to hear about your mother. Please accept my condolences for you and your family.

In light of the death of a loved one, writing stories seems a little...less important? But if anything, thank you for the time you've taken in writing this in the first place. Remember to take time for yourself to do things you enjoy; it will help you to avoid getting burned out.

Hello everyone,
I've just finished some significant edits to Part Three, so check it out. I'm still not really happy with it, but writing from the perspective of an insane Rogue Trader with a dark, mysterious past and a lot of neuroses is straining my skills. Mostly it's just been cleaned up and I violated the "show don't tell" rule a bunch of times for the sake of simplicity. I may get the next two sections edited in the following two weeks, though I just started a new job (6hrs a week as a research assistant for a medical ethicist!) so who knows?

I hope people are still interested too. I know that the hiatus kind of killed a lot of the momentum, and other than a few diehards I'm not sure if I'm getting viewed? I never really kept track of the page views function. Cheers,

-Tim

I'm still reading, and I like the Part 3 revisions.

I love your story (perhaps not as much as Elliott though ) and trust me, you're definitely still getting views.

Keep at it!

My love for all things Caveat Imperator does not warrant that face!!!

Well Elliott, at least it wasn't this face:

Anyhow, all jokes aside, I did my substantial edit on Part Four now too. I've got a very small bit of Part Five in the oven already, and am ahead of schedule on what I thought I would be able to accomplish, so I'm happy. It was kind of arduous to get things close to where I want them on Jakrad and Iulius. I find it easy to write characters who I want to root for, and it's difficult for me to get someone really weird on the page. A good experiment, even if it's not really working!
Oh, and thanks for the PMs too!

Hey, I just had a long car ride so I finally got around to reading all the chapters I've missed - I brought them up on my laptop before I got out of wifi range. (now I've got a neckache) Oh well, it was worth it! Definitely a great read, like I said before, all the tech speak is swell, and the plot twists are interesting and exciting without being... cliche? overused? unbelievable? A very compelling story overall.

---

Also, I'm very sorry to hear about your mother. Honestly, I have no idea what to say...I cried when my hamster died, so this must be tough for you.

Well, it's been, what? Over a year. Probably thought I was gone for good! A lot has happened, between now and then. My mother died, I've applied for graduation, and lost a girlfriend. Still, I finally got this instalment in place. It'll probably be a while before I can pump another one out (hopefully not a year again!), but such is life. It's a pity too, I think that the real key to success in this kind of endeavour is consistency. People are more inclined to read something if they know it's coming every week or two. Oh well. Writing these things gets really complicated as one approaches the end!

Anyhow, I hope people enjoy it. It was probably the most difficult to write, and I'm still not sure about the firefight sequence....

-Tim

---

Co’da’yen inhaled deeply, grimacing at the taste of the recycled air in her helmet. Scent was one of the most important senses available to a scout, and as a pathfinder, she had only turned off the olfactory concentrators and sealed her helmet once before. That time had been on Gro’tah, when the air was filled with the deadly spores and gases of the ravenous, bug-like Y’he. Her current situation - though less terrifying than tyranid invasion - was nonetheless an assault on her nose. Much as the Shas’ui might grimace at the taste of canned air, she felt she might vomit if she turned her scrubbers off. She and her team had been dragging themselves through the pitch-black sewers of Bei’fau over the past several decs, and they were about to arrive on target. Dosed with the genetically targeted cocktail known colloquially as K’re, “triple-strength,” Co’da’yen had worked sleeplessly through last night, piecing together the city gate patrol patterns using video records from their observation post. Being the hunter cadre’s sleepless eyes, pathfinders were selected for their abilities to cope with bizarre hours and lengthy deployments, but war was an unforgiving master. Sometimes, a little chemical push was needed. Bless the Auns, they thought of everything! In the early morning they had slipped past the bizarre, half-machine guards, entering Bei’fau’s limits and ducking into the kor’vesa disposal network. The drones that normally dealt with the city’s rubbish had gone offline when the chemical bombs had struck, so the ways were clear, though rank. They had followed the Mal’caor’vesa, which had ranged ahead, ensuring that the invaders had not infiltrated the sewers. The Shas’ui allowed herself a small smirk. It was a boon that the gue’la were so foolish as to believe her peoples’ technology was evil. If the soft-skinned brutes were not so superstitious, they might have discovered the disposal network on Bei’fau’s central AIs and prevented her squad from popping up right next to their asset. They would pay for their arrogance. She still felt a little jittery from the K’re. Though her biochemistry was as tailored to the drugs as possible, sometimes there were hiccoughs. She checked her vitals to find them still comfortable thresholds. Just the thrill of the hunt. Suddenly, they were right under their objective. Above them, in a spaceport warehouse, sat whatever bizarre technology was disrupting communication and stymieing an uplink with the cadre behind the moon.

“La’Ufo, what does the beacon say?” She pushed to the devilfish several tor’kan away in the harbour.
The pilot piped in, broadcasting to the team: “I tally twelve un-mounted hostiles in pairs. Two pairs at the north entry, two pairs at the west entry and four pairs are mobile.” The squad of pathfinders listened and watched intently as the data from the APC’s multi-spectral marker beacon uploaded the signatures of the guards to their neural interfaces. They superimposed the locations of the guards over three-dimensional warehouse blueprints pulled from the database. Ufo continued: “There’s a massive radiation signature in the middle of the floor, here. It must be your target, Shas’ui.”
Aun burn it, Co’da’yen thought. Twelve guards! Each of her squad would have to account for two enemy soldiers. This would be difficult. She spoke slowly at first, piecing together the strategy as she went.
“We begin here,” she began by mentally marking their position across the neural link, “inside the southeast corner. If we exit here, then the hoof patrols on the ground level are at still at the northeast and southwest corners...” she trailed off pensively.
“What if we used the spider ‘vesa’s self-destruct sequence?” Jihyo asked.
“Yes,” Co’da’yen could see it in her mind’s eye, “we’ll have what? 40, 50 rai’kan or so to get in position before they detonate. La’Jihyo and I will exit first and go north. Eliminate the ground patrol silently with combat knives, then we deploy the ’vesa.”
Close combat was disdained by the Tau line regiments – but this was only a by-product of accepted battle doctrine. Line cadres were never supposed to get that close to the enemy. Urban recon units like Co’da’yen’s found themselves in close confines with hostile troops, and they had been trained accordingly.
She continued, “Team Riwa with the rail rifle exits right on our heels. Scale the ladder to the catwalk and take the southeastern patrol, knives again. Set up the rail to take out the opposite catwalk patrol before they make line of sight. Team Gor’san will sprint for the southwestern ground patrol, and take out the two with carbines while confusion is still high. As soon as you hear the rail or the drones, all weapons free! When the guards are down, I will plant the EMP. La’Ufo, as soon as we breach the room, doubletime the ‘Fish to our position. We should complete extraction inside two raik’or. Understood, Shas’la?
They reviewed the plan one more time, eyes closed in their helmets. The first two patrols should fall silently, and then the drones and rail rifle would go off almost simultaneously. After that, it should be simple mop-up, and a sprint for their ‘fish. Habitually, Co’da’yen pulled up the heartbeats of her squad one last time. Their rhythms were elevated, but everyone was relaxed. They were born for this.

*****
Jakrad was exhausted. His evening had been full of sordid revelry, but now, with his harem dismissed, he was finally ready to fall asleep. He got up from the bed and paced towards the low sink to wash his face. The chamber was a bit cramped for him, having been built by the Tau for visiting Ethereal caste overseers, but the quarters were as opulent as he could manage without enduring the rumbling ride up to his tradeship in orbit, and he was too tired to bother tonight. He should be safe behind his bodyguards.

As he plodded back to the waiting embrace of the bed, a sudden snap emanated from outside, followed by a cascade of crackling and the sound of harsh yells. The floor shuddered and the muffled din of shattering debris ricocheting erupted from the corridor. The Rogue Trader dove for his laspistol and frag grenades, levelling his sights on the doorway from behind the bed. The door slid open to reveal Froman, covered in blood silhouetted against a raging fire in the hallway. The bodies of his guards were strewn about and only a few more were visible at the end of the way, snapping off occasional bursts of lasfire.
“My liege, we have to go!” Jakrad leapt over the bed and sprinted to the door, but it was already too late. As he reached the threshold, a tank broke through the walls and crushed the remaining guards, its sponson heavy bolters thumping angrily. One of the explosive bolts slammed into Froman’s leg, and Jakrad instinctively covered his eyes a split second before feeling the splinters of Froman’s bones lodge themselves in his cheeks and forearm. Jakrad dragged his man-at-arms back into the room, lobbing a frag grenade into the orange glow of the corridor as the emotionless faces of Skitarium Hyspaspists leapt through the debris about their tank to charge the chamber. Three of the tech-guard soldiers erupted in a white flash, showering their comrades with their gore, but the rest ran on unperturbed. Jakrad fired wildly into the crowd of oncoming soldiers, but those that fell were merely trampled by those behind. The last thing Jakrad could remember was the butt of a Skitarius’ lasrifle whipping into his field of vision.

First, Jakrad realised he was laying down. Then, he felt his head. It was as if His Emperor’s Own Space Marines were trying to open his head from the inside with thunder hammers. He reached up to touch his forehead, but felt an unexpected searing pain stab him in the skull. His left temple was swollen, tender, and still bleeding. Slowly he recalled what happened, and, groaning, sat himself up. His movements were immediately followed by a shuffling above him. Squinting, the Trader began to look around. He was in a cell. No more than twenty paces along any edge, it was a perfect cube with interwoven plasteel bars on the top. Above him it was dark, until a light grew from somewhere beyond view. It seemed like some sort of ferrocrete bunker, Jakrad thought. Then the Magos Explorator appeared above him, lighted by two servo skulls and flanked by a Skitarium Tribunus.

“Hello, al Kubanesch. Now that my support has arrived, I felt that your services would no longer be needed. I grew tired of your insults. Do not speak!” Iulius screamed, as Jakrad opened his mouth. The Explorator’s dangerous mechadendrites flared and crackling with electoo power. “The only reason I must keep you alive is your trader status, but the Ordinatus Scaelum will be in the hands of the Mechanicus soon. Then you shall be free to socialise with whatever xeno company finds you. I daresay they might be unhappy that you have gassed their planet though. Goodbye, Jakrad Terriwin al Kubanesch.”
And with that, Excelsiae whirled away, and his footsteps echoed down the hallway as the growing darkness engulfed Jakrad.

*****
Ui’Co’da’yen leapt up the ladder, hooves softly pattering on the smooth dull rails of the access ladder with Jihyo close behind. She could almost see the whole warehouse but for the huge, clunky machine in the middle of it. It was a huge cylindrical device, about five Tau long and at least three high, and it resembled a jet engine. Cables, hoses and wires ran every which way over its length and from its centre it emitted a peculiar, warm orange glow. But with the lay of the land in mind, it was time for them to do the wet work. Just north of her was her target pair of guards, standard gue’la imperials. She was already stalking quickly toward them, her combat blade drawn and gripped firmly in her left hand. She and Jihyo paced closer to the enemy until the only one tor’lek separated them from their prey. The guardsmen were taller and stronger than her and her Tau, but she had surprise. The two Shas leaned in and threw themselves at their prey in an expert lunge. Co’da’yen felt one hoof hit the ground, two, and then she launched herself upward, left hoof finding the guardsman’s hip bone as her right hand gripped the man’s body armour at the neck. Fluidly, they climbed up the gue’las’ bodies as the momentum of the Shas’ charge carried the men staggering forward. Before they could utter a sound, the Tau knives circled their throats and punctured the larynx. Releasing a quiet, bloody gurgle, Co’da’yen’s prey dropped heavily to his knees and the Shas’ui slipped down to ease the dying man quietly to the floor. Calmly, she released the ‘vesa from her back, letting it scuttle toward the entryways. A throaty gue’la yell erupted from the west entry as she heard the thump of the bodies from Team Gor’san’s knives. Chips of ceramic floor exploded around her as lasgun fire snapped from the ground and catwalk above, only for have the booming whip-crack of the rail rifle cut it short, followed by the twin detonations of the Mal’caor’vesa’s failsafe devices. As she raised her carbine toward the last patrol, she could see human scum fumbling for their weapons. It was too late. Their bodies were torn apart by the cross-fire from the entire team’s carbines – the high-velocity plasma pulses easily vaporising their body armour like paper. The whine of the Devilfish engines on maximum could already be heard approaching outside and the pathfinders began sprinting for the extraction point. Picking up and running, Co’da’yen set an EMP grenade on a long fuse, and lodged it in the bizarre, humming monster in the middle of the warehouse before she ran to the waiting ramp of the APC.

Don't have the time for a detailed response, but I have to say that that was very enjoyable. I like how you have described the Shas and what makes them unique from other races. Your use of Tau words and concepts helps keep the story feeling suitably alien, yet still easy to relate too.

As for the human side of it, I'm gonna have to read the other chapters again to become familiar with our Rogue Trader here. He is a bit of a mystery...

All in all, a great update and definitely worth the wait. I'm excited to see what will happen next!

At least you haven't lost your incredible writing skill!

Mate that was a great addition. While you are still breaking the "show don't tell" rule in a few places, it still flows well and doesn't detract from the awesome. I can't think of what I'd do [cause I'm hopeless, but yknow] but you'll probably catch a couple of things in editing anyway.

I liked this part:

It sorta made me smile - Tau are still Tau, no matter how badass they are they're not superheroes. You portray them extremely well.

You've satiated the ravishing hordes... for now

There was an update to this and no one told me!

GUYS, this is how the Mont'au started. <crazy eyes>

Thought I should get some work done on this during a lull before finals.
Some notes:

• I removed the last section of the previous part. It was the only way to make the story work. It wouldn’t have made sense given where the story’s going.
• This will be shorter than the other updates, though I find time to update and expand it in edits, I will. Some people probably prefer shorter updates anyhow.
• Kind of a teaser: I’ve had fun with this. If anyone’s interested, check it out.

Enjoy.

P.S. Many thanks to FrozenNights for his helpful advice on military brevity words. I hope I've got a balanced proportion of realism and artistic liberty.

-Tim

---

Iulius Excelsiae's mechadendrites wreathed him in a sinuous halo, arcing angrily with the occasional crackle of electric energy. The echoes circled and evaporated into the heights of the Tau Ar'tol government building. Excelciae's face, though obscured by his hood, was enraged. He nonetheless asked the man before him his question in an even tone: "What did you say?"
Though any normal human being would have feared for his life in view of such a threatening display, the Skitarium Tribunus kneeling before the Explorator did not have the luxury of such ineffective emotions. The Adeptus Mechanicus preferred its military forces to operate without petty psychological weaknesses, and its Magi Biologis ensured that Skitarius soldiers were appropriately augmented and lobotomised. The man's response was therefore cold and unapologetic: "Magos Explorator, the Disruption Core has been destroyed. Communication is now open between the surface and orbit. The Trader's ship has discovered his imprisonment and is attacking our fleet."
"Impossible! I cannot have made a miscalculation. I have been monitoring Jakrad's communications and he was never aware of the Core. None of his troops could have discovered it!" The soldier absorbed the shrill tirade impassively, and Iulius forced himself to calm, his dendrites swaying to tense standstill about him. "Will we win the fight in space?"
"Yes, Magos Explorator."
"Good, then you must capture whatever agent slipped our grasp. I cannot have a saboteur about. We must make orbit with the Ordinatus on schedule. Report back with the fleet information when the battle is done, and bring me a lexmechanic. Dismissed."
"Of course, Magos Explorator."
The mechanically augmented captain saluted smartly and strode purposefully out of the audience chamber without a backward glance. Moments later, the stooped figure of one of Excelsiae's lexmechanics shuffled over the smooth floor to where the Magos stood.
"What news, lexmechanic Thierry? How go the drills?"
"Magos, they have hit a cavern and this has accelerated the timetable. The crystals no longer trouble the drills and the enginseers maintain their operation without incident. We will have the Ordinatus in a matter of hours. I divine five before the drilling phase is completed."
"Good Thierry. You are dismissed."
This was good news. Iulius silently called his cloud of servo skulls to him, slipping silently on their small anti-grav units from various hiding places about the giant hall. Each was dispatched to his various footholds on the planet. The Praetorian Guard the massively augmented shock troops of the Skitarius military, who protected the convoys collecting the scattered remnants of the Ordinatus Scaelum would double their pace. He sent many to recall the mind-slaved deep ground scanner-skimmers that continued the search about the planet. Jakrad—that evil snake—had been right. Time was running short. Given that he hadn't found all the sacred pieces of the holy machine by now, he was forced to abandon them to escape Tau space. If his space forces faced significant losses at the hands of Jakrad's Tradeship he might not be able to carry all the Ordinatus’ elements anyhow. The Mechanicus would simply have to content itself to reproduce whatever he could not salvage. The remaining servo skulls in his network fanned out across the city. He would find the cursed operative of Jakrad’s who had spoilt his perfect plan if it was the last thing he did on this planet.

*****
Kor’vre’Ksi’m’yen’Soo’karu leapt lightly into the cockpit of the waiting Barracuda air superiority fighter and slipped his helmet over his head, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the familiar optic cluster that would serve as his window to the outside world. The back of his flight suit locked itself, first magnetically then mechanically, onto the back of the bucket seat. Cables threaded out of the seatback, connecting him to the various flight systems of the spacecraft, and he smiled curtly as the HUD uplinked with his neural interface, directly overlaying his vision with all his flight information. The neural interface technology for spacecraft was in its infancy compared to the neurologically simpler, anthropomorphic programming for battlesuits, but Soo’karu’s body was still able to get a clear feeling for the plane’s disposition. The last cable to lock in was the oxygen, and he heard a slight hiss as the helmet pressurised, sealing the wing leader into his separate micro-atmosphere and cutting him off from the outside world for the next few hours. He took a deep breath of the familiar crisp air pumped out of the Barracuda fighter’s fusion reactor. Here was home, this was where he lived.
“I hate to say it, Fio’la,” he spoke to the supervising flight engineer through his comm, “but if I must give up the cockpit, I refuse to pass my next trial.”
Soo’karu was met with silence over the channel for a few seconds—his jocular manner had been a hit with the gue’vesa allies he had served with last cyr, but his fellow tau largely found his informalities difficult to understand.
“I am sorry Kor’vre,” came the Fio's uncomfortable reply, before he switched awkwardly back to business matters, “your systems are all-go. Taxi two-seven-four for launch.”
“Copy, Fio’la.” Like many Air Caste Tau in the military fleet, his ambitions at rank higher than Kor’vre had been forestalled by his considerable skills as a pilot and teacher. The attrition wrought on the Empire’s pilots over the Third Sphere expansion meant experienced pilots were at a premium. The Spheres were not built on the backs of the dead, he thought. The foundations of his beloved Empire had seen too much blood already. The next generation of pilots would learn the lessons of the last. A tractor drone emerged from the whirling mêlée of AI bodies preparing the spacecraft wing for combat. He felt a small buoyant feeling then a jolt as the drone externally activated his anti-grav plates before latching onto his spacecraft's nose. Slowly, the drone taxied the spacecraft through the hullabaloo to launch-bay door. Then, suddenly he was alone as his nose poked out of the fray and into the empty launch bay. Soo'karu savoured this tiny moment of solitude. Then the three other Barracuda fighters, his wingmates, emerged from the commotion of the flight deck just behind him, and the mental calm of that moment gave way to the heat of adrenaline. In his HUD’s rear-view sector, he saw the massive airlock closing the four tau off from their mothership, and he simultaneously felt the small jolt as his anti-grav plates deactivated along with the gravity generators of the larger ship. Though already perfectly quiet in the cockpit, Soo’karu always felt that there was a greater, electric silence that fell when the airlock closed. He felt his natural weightlessness settle in. Battle was close.
“Anuk Zero-One, Nest Two-Four” Soo’karu’s neural link activated as he heard the cruiser’s second controller chime in to his flight, “final check on comms. Push Blue if you copy.” Dutifully he mentally pushed his response over the neural link, and noted with satisfaction three other blue symbols indicate that everything and everyone was ready.
Enlivened by the prospect of the coming fight, he couldn’t resist joking one more time: “Just point us at the bandits, Nest, we’ll make ’em glow!”
His whole flight was surprised when the Kor’el himself wryly responded.
“Fear not, Kor’vre, you shall have plenty to illuminate. Aun guide your arrows. Nest Actual out.”
With those words the launch door lifted up and the void of space slowly filled Soo’karu’s view. He smiled.
“All right, Anuk One,” he pushed, “let’s gate in four, three, two, one....” He flicked on his fusion-powered afterburners, feeling himself press firmly into his seatback as the four fighters erupted from the larger warship into the blackness.