by Various
Shadowsun continued to hold the fusion blasters out in front of her. No one moved. Even the vast forest around them seemed to pause. Then Kou’to signalled the two closest fire warriors to take the human away, dismissing everyone else with a nod. As they returned to the Manta, he shouldered his weapon and waited.
Slowly, the fusion blasters dropped. A long moment passed between the two of them. At last, Shadowsun looked down at herself and said strangely, ‘I’ve been wounded.’
Kou’to gestured towards the downed transport ship. ‘The commander will be attended to, of course. Lead on.’
Shadowsun turned and plodded towards the Manta. Kou’to followed at a respectful distance, but he never took his eyes off of her.
She exited her battlesuit at the base of the boarding ramp. Kou’to had a team of eleven fire warriors stand in a protective circle around her as she did so. With his head lowered so far that his chin touched his chest, Kou’to brought her a fresh set of clothing. She dressed quickly, snapped the flex-screen back around her left arm, and said, ‘It’s a bit large.’
Kou’to scarcely moved. ‘Forgiveness, commander, but it was taken from the body of one of the fallen. He was of wider proportion than you. This uniform represents our best efforts.’
Shadowsun cinched the waist as tightly as she could and started rolling up the sleeves. Even so, it hung on her like a shapeless mustard-coloured bag. ‘His contribution is received and appreciated. You may dismiss your men.’
Kou’to’s head snapped up. ‘La’rua, karae’na!’ he barked. The circle protecting the commander’s decency dispersed at once to continue policing the bodies of friend and foe alike. He produced a small brown satchel from his belt and passed it to Shadowsun. ‘Medical supplies, commander.’
She took it with a nod of thanks and removed a small vial marked ‘tissue rebuilder’ from the pouch. Twisting off the top, she pressed the tiny cylinder against the side of her neck.
‘Where is the gue’la?’ Shadowsun asked.
‘He is restrained and under guard,’ Kou’to replied.
She touched one of the many cuts to her face. The blood there was already congealing and the wound closing. ‘Shas’la Sabu’ro. Take me to him.’
Together they ascended the ramp. The Manta, despite its enormous size, had very little room to move around in. Its wings were entirely occupied with engines and integrated weapons. The central fuselage was divided into three parts: a command and control area designed to accommodate two air caste pilots, a rectangular storage bay in the transport’s belly that held large war machines like tanks and Crisis battlesuits, and an upper transport deck, which Shadowsun and Kou’to went to. The space was dominated by slotted couches along each wall and a median with additional seating on each side.
Shadowsun halted when she saw it. Kou’to answered her question about its intended occupant before she could even ask it.
‘The aun was not aboard when we were forced to leave the command ship,’ he said flatly.
Of all the disappointments she had suffered this day, the absence of an Ethereal was the greatest. ‘No,’ she muttered, ‘none of the aun would have had enough time to make their way to the flight hangars.’ She touched one of the many places on her brow that were sticky with congealing blood.
A diminutive tau strode past the captive human and down the aisle towards them. His ochre body armour was adorned with deep red markings. He cradled his helmet beneath one arm. In his other hand he held a rolled up flex-screen. He bowed deeply when he stood before his superiors. His eyes avoided Shadowsun, and he spoke to Kou’to.
‘Shas’la Fal’shia Sabu’ro puts himself at your service,’ he said rapidly.
Shadowsun appraised him. Sabu’ro was young, perhaps no more than ten or eleven. He must have scored very high on the aptitude tests to have been selected to serve aboard her flagship. ‘It is agreeable to see you, shas’la,’ she said. ‘What is the status of our communications?’
Sabu’ro glanced at Kou’to before answering. The veteran’s nod told him that it was all right to address Shadowsun directly.
‘Commander,’ he said proudly, ‘we are fully capable. Local tightbeam and interplanetary tachyon arrays are both at one hundred per cent.’
‘Are you able to contact the rest of the fleet?’
‘It has already been done. All ships are holding at station-keeping eight light-minutes beyond il’Wolaho’s moon, as per your previous instructions. Command of the armada has passed to Kor’el Kenhi’ta, who relayed the news of what transpired today to T’au via graviton data packet.’ He smiled. ‘After you last spoke to me, I made all vessels aware of your survival.’
‘Was that news also relayed to T’au?’
Young Sabu’ro seemed confused by the question. ‘Why would it not be?’
Shadowsun nodded, imagining what the reaction must have been back on the home world. First, news that a powerful warship had been destroyed with all hands lost. Then, later on, a second bulletin informing everyone that she and a handful of others were alive, but for the moment, non-recoverable. Shock, followed by sadness, followed by joy, followed by concern. The halls of the Aun’t’au’retha, the supreme council of Ethereals who presided over the Empire, must have been uncharacteristically lively this day. Once again, she blamed herself.
‘How many warriors are left?’ she asked Kou’to.
‘The survivors have been grouped into three fireteams, commander. There are also ten kor’ves gun drones remaining, two of which I have ordered to be refitted into shield drones for your use.’
‘The tanks?’ she asked, thinking of the two Hammerhead-class war machines that one would usually find secured in the bowls of a Manta.
‘Rendered inoperable during the landing.’
‘And the Manta itself is no longer flight-worthy?’
‘That is correct, commander.’
Shadowsun frowned deeply. With only herself, a handful of robots, and less than thirty infantry, their position here was untenable. The humans knew where they were, and would be sending another attack wave shortly; one which they were certain to be unable to resist.
‘We must leave,’ she concluded aloud. ‘Yet if we signal the fleet to evacuate us, the gue’la energy cannon will inflict even more casualties upon our people.’
‘That much is certain,’ Kou’to agreed.
‘Then it falls to us to destroy their defences. Have your men bring in our prisoner.’
As Kou’to signalled to the soldiers outside, the flex-screen in Sabu’ro’s fist made a loud beeping. The young man unrolled the computer display. He made it rigid with a snap of his wrist, studied it for a moment, and then announced, ‘Commander, there’s an incoming data packet addressed to you.’ He passed the flex-screen to Shadowsun. ‘A pre-recorded message of some kind, relayed through the fleet position.’
Il’Wolaho was nearly one hundred and fifty light-years away from the heart of the Empire. Real-time communication over such distances was impossible, even for a race as technologically advanced as the tau. Shadowsun took note of the time stamp as the bundle of words and decompiled themselves; whatever the nature of this message, it had been sent while her fleet was in translation from T’au.
‘It says here that this was made and received some time ago. Why am I only seeing it now?’
Sabu’ro shook his head as the recording began.
‘O’Shaserra,’ it said slowly and clearly, ‘This is Aun’va speaking. As leader of the Aun’t’au’retha, may I say that it brings great relief to all to hear that you have survived the destruction of your command vessel.’
Shadowsun couldn’t help but smile as the ancient Ethereal’s face swam into focus. His cheeks and lips were deeply lined. The skin above his eyes drooped. The braid of hair that sprouted from his chin was shot through with grey, and was so long that it dropped out of frame. She often thought that, h
ad her father lived to a similar age, that he might have been much the same. Aun’va – along with her mentor Puretide – had guided her in every aspect of her preparation with a stern but gentle hand. She revered him, both as a superior and a mentor.
‘There was much distress when first we heard the news,’ the recording continued. ‘Much distress. These are trying days for the Empire, dear child. We face danger on many fronts, and for a time, we were afraid that we had lost all three of Kiru’s daughters.’
Shadowsun’s smile collapsed. There was a sudden sickness in her core. She tilted her head, certain that she had misheard that last sentence.
Aun’va’s face was grim. His long mouth was severely downturned. ‘Yes. I regret to inform you, O’Shaserra, that word has reached us from two other theatres of operation; your sisters have given the ultimate sacrifice for the Greater Good, and have been killed in the line of duty.’
She felt numb.
‘Shas’el Ty’res had been selected to provide security for some very important earth caste research, far beyond the borders of the Empire. For security reasons, which we are sure you will understand, we cannot disclose the exact location. Despite our best attempts at peaceful delegation, a massive conflict erupted involving several other races. The operation had to be cancelled. We are told that she gave her life so that others could escape to safety.
‘Shas’el Oru’mi was slain by Var Sin’da pirates on the planet Tash’Var. All reports state that she was working to prevent them from capturing the Ethereals residing there, and that she alone is credited with more than fifty-two confirmed enemy kills. Her position was overrun. She was wounded and evacuated to the medical complex in Mikaz City. She received the best of care, but the poisons used by those damnable creatures are quite virulent, and she died three days later.
‘We have personally seen to it that both of their remains were returned to T’au. A special funeral ceremony has already been held, but now that we have news of your survival, its final vows have been suspended.’
Shadowsun’s face was slack. She had incurred two and a half years of time-debt travelling out to the fringes of tau space. While in transit, not only had her sisters died, but she had missed their funeral as well. She gave a short, hysterical laugh, then slowly handed the flex-screen back to Sabu’ro. He accepted it delicately, as if its edges had suddenly become lethally sharp, and tried to avoid looking at it as the recording played on.
‘Your father was a man of greatness: a magnificent warrior and a shining example of the Greater Good. That is why he was granted leave to raise a family himself, and why you have that right as well. All the Empire was saddened by his death. Yet, we took solace in the knowledge that his legacy lived on through his daughters. Again, all the Empire grieves, and now we have only you, O’Shaserra, in which to find our consolation. You are the last of Kiru’s line.’
Shadowsun half sat, half fell onto one of the couches. Her hands felt cold. Her head began to pound. She found that she was suddenly unable to remember what her sisters had looked like.
‘Obviously, we must discuss the question of what happens next. Therefore, it is imperative that you return to your battlefleet,’ Aun’va concluded. ‘The occupation efforts can be left to others for the time being.’ The Ethereal sighed and, perhaps unsure of what else to say, ended the recording.
Kou’to was torn. His instinct was to offer Shadowsun some kind of condolence, yet doing so would be a massive breach of protocol. Unable to decide what to do, he simply stood stoically by and watched her stare off into space.
Shadowsun’s head made an almost imperceptible shake, refuting a statement whispered in her ears alone. She gave a broken, breathy sigh, and looked at her hands.
At the far end of the room, two fire warriors appeared with Hollett between them. His head was bowed and his wrists were tied together by a thick, plastek restraint.
Kou’to glanced over his shoulder, and cleared his throat. Shadowsun looked up. When she saw Hollett, her face hardened.
‘You, gue’la!’
Hollett lifted his head at the sound of his own language. He looked first to Shadowsun, and then at Kou’to. ‘Tell her my name is Hollett,’ he said. ‘Cordel Hollett.’
‘You are a gue’la barbarian,’ Shadowsun scowled as he marched towards him, ‘and a coward. It matters not what your name is. You lost all right to it when you chose surrender over death.’
Hollett’s eyes lowered. ‘I’m no traitor,’ he muttered.
She stood with her hands on her hips. Now that she was no longer in her battlesuit exoskeleton, Hollett towered over them all. His posture, though, was stooped and deflated. The tau woman might have knocked him over with the slightest of ease, it seemed.
‘I have been told to leave this place and to rejoin my battlefleet,’ she said. ‘This order comes from the highest possible authority, and cannot be denied.’
‘I see.’
‘If, however, I instruct a vessel to come and collect me, your defence laser will destroy it before it even enters the atmosphere.’
Hollett said nothing, sensing that he and Shadowsun were heading towards a disastrous impasse.
‘I therefore ask you, as one commander to another, will you grant permission for a rescue vessel to take myself and my surviving soldiers back out into space? Will you deactivate the cannon long enough to allow for this?’
‘Commander, no!’ Kou’to snapped. Shadowsun silenced him with a raised finger.
Hollett licked his lips. He didn’t know the little blue alien woman personally, but he knew her type. Oh yes indeed. She was a fighter, through and through. She was cold and hard, gifted and prideful. He could not imagine what it must be like for her now, having to ask her enemy for permission to retreat.
‘I can’t,’ he sighed.
Shadowsun was on her feet in a flash. Her face was tight. Her fists were clenched. Her fury was a tangible thing radiating around her.
Hollett found himself actually backing up a step. He raised his bound hands in front of him. ‘I wish I could,’ he cried. ‘Believe me. Letting you leave would solve a lot of my problems today. But it’s not up to me.’
‘You are the commander,’ Shadowsun grated. ‘If you order the cannon to be deactivated, it will be so.’
‘No,’ Hollett said. ‘I’m not the commander. I mean, I am a commander, but I’m not the highest ranking officer on Diepr-3. I can’t order something like that.’
Shadowsun appraised him coolly. ‘You are the N’el Shas’O?’
‘The what?’
‘The secondmost important.’
‘Oh. Uh… yes.’
‘Then I must bring my request to your superior.’
Hollett’s face grew hard, and something in the tone of his voice took Shadowsun aback. ‘No, you won’t,’ he assured her.
‘Our equipment is fully capable of broadcasting…’
‘I’m not talking about your radio!’ He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘I’ve served under Colonel Falkens for more than fifteen years. If you try to negotiate with him, he’ll kill you. If you send your ships within range of his guns, he’ll destroy them. If you try to hide from him out here in the wilderness, he’ll track you. Falkens doesn’t understand things like charity or compassion. He doesn’t believe in compromise, and he sees everything weaker than him as something to be degraded and abused.’
‘Can you be so certain?’ Shadowsun asked quietly.
Hollet’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘He’s like you.’
Shadowsun seemed to consider that for a moment. ‘Then I will have to destroy it. You will provide Shas’ui Kou’to with a list of its weak points and vulnerabilities.’
‘You’re going to attack the defence laser?’ Hollett gave a snort and shrugged weakly. ‘That’d be suicide. You haven’t enough troops. Not from what I’ve seen. The heavy bolters a
lone will cut you to pieces by before you even get into range.’
‘Heavy bolters,’ Shadowsun chewed the alien words slowly, recalling the large-calibre automatic machine guns the phrase described. Regrettably, the human was correct. An attack using nothing but light infantry would be doomed to failure. She would need more firepower.
Turning to face Sabu’ro, she began speaking once more in her native tongue. ‘Shas’la, contact Kor’el Kenhi’ta.’
‘At once, commander.’ The young soldier’s fingers flew across the surface of the flex-screen. Hollett looked around uneasily.
Seconds later, Sabu’ro bowed slightly at the waist and handed the flex-screen to Shadowsun. The display was filled with the image of an air caste tau in his early thirties. His uniform robe flared at the shoulders, and above him floated a large, clam-shaped device. The crown of his head nestled inside the machine, connected by glowing fibop cables and neural relays. His eyes, large and luminous, darted about, preoccupied. The Kor’el was deep in tacflow, Shadowsun knew. Information from every vessel in the armada was pouring into his brain, sifted and prioritised by banks of computers, and displayed on his hard-wired ocular implants.
‘Commander Shadowsun,’ he wheezed. Like all members of the air caste, his voice was thin and breathy. ‘I am… at your service.’
‘Kor’el, there are new orders from T’au. From the Aun’t’au’retha as a whole and Aun’va specifically. I am to evacuate this planet and rejoin the fleet. All other considerations are rescinded.’
Kenhi’ta’s head dipped oddly to one side, giving him a quizzical look. Shadowsun knew that he was, in fact, plotting course directions, scanning weapon readiness reports, and worst of all, calculating potential losses.
‘We must comply, of course,’ he said at last. ‘However, the presence of the gue’la defence weapon will make such an operation… very costly.’
‘Agreed,’ Shadowsun said curtly. ‘Therefore, we will attempt to lower the cost. You are hereby ordered to move the fleet into position above il’Wolaho, and begin bombardment of the energy cannon and surrounding area.’