Chapter 6
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arg3nt
Molding delusions into readable content
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There was little excitement to be had after that first assignment. With Por'vre J'karra's mission ended, his guard detail was disbanded and us Fire Warriors were put to use elsewhere.
For me, it meant three tau'cyrs of guarding this site or that, partaking in drills and battle sims, and generally enjoying a nice and uneventful time. For better or worse, I never got assigned to test new weapons in the many facilities of my sept homeworld Fal'shia. That sort of posting is supposed to be one of the more honorable ones, as it meant you were involved in the technological advancement of the Tau Empire.
The Fire, Earth, and Air caste participants who died from the odd (but not odd enough) weapon malfunctions were named on the Por'Hui broadcasts only just below those fallen in combat and the passing of truly significant personalities (often of 'Vre rank and above).
Alas, I missed out on such prestige.
Three tau'cyrs of assignments on ships and outposts passed by with mercifully little excitement, and then of course my latest deployment to a proper tau city was rerouted to an active warzone. Because fuck peace, amirite?
As a consolation, I reunited with Vaal again as we picked up reinforcements enroute to the battlefront. Like many green shas'las he was excited about the fighting that's sure to come.
"We'll be facing the be'gel again," he said during a break, with eyes almost radiating hungry anticipation.
"Don't expect it to be so easy as before," I lightly retorted. "We'll probably be fighting on the open field."
Vaal nodded, his excitement tempered a little. "Very true. But there'll be more than just a team of us, in the same vein."
I replied with a shrug at that, and slipped into the next obvious tactic. "What are the chances we'll face our Trial by Fire there?"
"The shas'uis I've interacted with were certain of it," he answered, frowning mildly. "Even if junior shas'las like ourselves aren't in significant numbers, individual assessments could still be done."
"I suppose we'll know for certain once the team assignments are handed out."
Vaal tapped on his chin, a small gesture of doubt. "Apparently it's not too uncommon if we find ourselves embedded into teams of veteran shas'las. The Trial by Fire would then take their experienced views into consideration."
I clicked my tongue softly and consciously made the gesture of mild annoyance with my hands to soften the irritation I expressed. "I suppose it's best we assume we'll be taking the Trial either way, and hope that our performance here would be taken into consideration if it doesn't happen."
His eyes lit up with some amusement. "I'm sure we won't be judged too harshly if we fail to recite the Sio't in the middle of a firefight."
"Or get shot."
He nodded, still amused. "Or that."
We received our deployment assignments as we neared the afflicted planet in question. Fortunately, Vaal and I were in the same strike team again, along with unfamiliar but no less older faces. A full squad of newbies.
Definitely our Trial by Fire.
Interestingly, there wasn't a shas'ui to lead us this time. Instead, we would be following the orders given through our helmets by the shas'vre who was responsible for the section of the battlefront our team was assigned to. Said section leader would be managing maybe a couple of dozen Fire Warrior teams. According to doctrine, this allowed for the common shas'las to act as a larger cohesive entity on an inflexible battleline while freeing up the shas'uis for other, more specialized tasks.
A vestige of more primitive forms of warfare, yet made more practical thanks to modern communications technology.
There were a few days of integrating with my new team before we finally made landfall, more than enough to cover the basics and then some. Of the eleven other shas'las, Vaal included, none came from Fal'shia like myself, unlike the last time with the demiurg which was about a fifty-fifty split in between the Fal'shia and Dal'yth septs. This time around, Vaal and another comrade were from Dal'yth, another couple were from Vior'la, three hailed from Sa'cea, and four were from hallowed T'au itself.
Between the twelve of us, three were named Kais ('skilled') and two were Shi ('victory'). It added the mild inconvenience of having to add their sept names when referring to them - London John versus Alabama John sort of thing. We hadn't earned new names yet nor were we that familiar to cook up nicknames to further aid in differentiation.
Still, we got along well enough that the protocol of nominating an interim leader on the off chance we lost comms in the battlefield went off rather smoothly. Just as we drilled in the battledomes we exchanged our experiences and revealed our strengths and skills with blunt honesty.
The Tau'va espoused finding one's place on the Path of enlightenment and unity, and the honest appraisal of one's own flaws and strengths was one big step towards that Path. The burden of leadership in particular was one that should be carefully hoisted by the capable, not the eager nor the vain. An unchecked ego often held back or even worked against the harmony and unity of the Tau'va, and more to the point for us Fire Caste warriors it could cost precious tau lives. So a transparent assessment was required, especially among equals such as a team of green Fire Warriors.
Well, that's what was taught anyway. I don't know how much the communal sense of duty held up as one went up the ranks.
In any case, after some discussion and seeking the advice of seniors and superiors, Shas'la T'au Shi was nominated as our team's leader/representative for situations that saw us separated from Shas'ar'tol command.
It also meant that he had the burden of negotiating with the reps of the other teams for our billeting, resupply order, formation preference, and other stuff that was beneath our commanding shas'vre's responsibilities once we made it to the ground. Supposedly, such dealings were carefully noted by the veterans and played a role in our assessments; it made a difference if you'd be promoted to a shas'ui on the leadership track or one that would serve in the frontlines as a battlesuit pilot.
Well, good for him. I personally didn't mind being overlooked for the tau equivalent of officer training.
We made planetfall on a rather bleak ball of dirt within the Vior'la sept. The air was thin, sunlight was dim due to the dense asteroid belt between the nameless planet and its star, and as far as I could see (as well as read from the briefings) the only signs of life on the orange-brown dirt were splotches of lichen and mold.
By all accounts it was a useless ball of dirt, barely worth strip mining. The world didn't even warrant a name or code by the Earth Caste surveyors.
But it was a useless ball of dirt belonging to the Tau Empire, and if I read between the lines correctly this lifeless planet was ideal for whittling down the invaders forces without threatening precious Tau prosperity and infrastructure.
We disembarked no more than a tor'kan - a mile or something? - from our designated frontline. The Orca transport didn't have any windows, so I didn't get to see the state of it as we descended. Standing on compacted earth, the flashes of lights and faint thrumming from the distance felt foreboding.
The last team had barely left the Orcas when our helmets' comms came alive with a sharp voice.
"Fire Warriors. The be'gel are attempting a breakthrough at the assigned section. Reinforce with haste. Devilfish transports will be sent over when they are available."
Footslogging? Fuck…
"Why didn't we disembark closer to the front lines?" Vior'la Kais muttered, almost on cue, in our team comms channel. Almost the literal embodiment of every Vior'lan stereotype, Kais was hot-headed, impatient, eager to prove herself, and spoke with the barest of formalities. She also held a small collection of disciplinary infractions and wore her reckless successes with some esteem.
A small part of me dreaded the possibility that her shonen behavior was the sign of plot armor, or if it marked her for death for the sake of narrative shock. If either was true, it'd likely mean I was well within the range of serving as background collateral or fuel for character development.
"The be'gel are known to wield anti-air assets," T'au Shi replied in his usual calmness. "And the situation is likely not as dire as we might think; our shas'vre would have accounted for our marching speed."
"We should move," Sa'cea Kais cut in with some curtness peeking out of his reserved demeanor, the mirror opposite of his Vior'lan counterpart. Mercifully, the two Kais-es were not tropey rivals.
T'au Shi nodded as the other teams were already marching out of the landing field. The more experienced strike teams were well ahead of everyone else, probably used to this sort of deployment. "Indeed. Move out and maintain loose formation. You can use any leftover energy to speak as we travel."
"Please don't," I couldn't help but quip lightheartedly as we began literally hoofing it. "Otherwise we'll only be hearing Vior'la Kais throughout."
Jura, Vaal's fellow Dal'yth-born comrade, mirrored my amusement. "Quite rich, coming from you…"
Vaal came to my defense, his voice tinted by controlled breaths as we broke into a jog. "X'ing is not one to speak frivolously. Not unless there's something actually absurd to contribute. That he hasn't stared off and forgotten himself yet means that that moment is yet to come."
Or not.
We moved at a comfortable speed, pacing ourselves as we were trained to while keeping an eye out on our surroundings. Six strike teams moved in distinct clumps, pulse rifles shouldered or cradled in both hands. I don't know about the others, but the soft, almost clay-like earth was pressing against my hoof pads in a way that promised soreness.
A quartet of Barracuda air superiority fighters darted past us overhead, quickly becoming specks in the sky even as they strobed with weapons fire.
The small shapes in the distance eventually clarified into silhouettes of battlesuits and grav tanks, along with a couple of lightly armored and expendable defense towers pulsing like light towers as their ion cannons spat bolts. Streaks of black smoke swirled in the distance, and low-hanging clouds revealed themselves to be dispersing smoke fed by black columns coming beyond the tau defenses. The sounds of battle also became louder and clearer, the frequent booms and cracks filtering through our helms as more than just tremors and vibrations.
We were maybe halfway to our destination when our commanding shas'vre chirped in once more.
"Enemy fire is increasing. Be on alert for stray munitions."
As if on cue, a crude rocket appeared from the left of my vision and arced beautifully rightwards, disappearing in a flash of light and dirty smoke.
"Aren't they supposed to be aiming their weapons at our general direction?" Vior'la Kais remarked with some mockery.
"Don't." Vaal and I both rebuked her at the same time, his with added emphasis of a cutting gesture aimed her way.
"What? The be'gel's unruly nature and unreliable technology is common knowledge."
I remembered what ork cleavers and powered claws did to heavy space dorf armor, and then turned to meet Vaal's helmet optics.
"It'll be her fault," I muttered, and he nodded in understanding.
The defensive line was fully in sight, I could make out the backs of individual Fire Warriors poking out of trenches and shooting at the tide of orks closing in. Large almost tau-sized plates darted above the defenders with underslung weapons, the swarm of tau gun drones adding fire from an elevated and more exposed position and drawing a lot of inaccurate ork fire.
A trio of battlesuits jetted skywards before firing their shoulder-mounted missiles into something among the greenskin throng that exploded with an anticlimactic crump. A heavier, Broadside variant stood with its feet firmly planted to the ground, its boxy 'hands' flaring from the discharge of smart missiles while the railguns on its shoulders glowed dimly, ready to fire. Not far to my left, the silhouette of a couple of Devilfish transports hovered low above a smoking section of trenchline, their hulls spanging from ork small-arms fire while the Fire Warriors in the trenches evacuated with the wounded.
It was a very…scenic sight. Lots of clean tau armor and bright blue lights contrasting against the smog, the unpolished metallics of ork weapons and armor, and the dirty green of ork skin maybe a third of a tor'kan away.
The shas'vre spoke again, sounding maybe a little relieved. "Reinforcing teams, aid in suppressing fire. Slow down the be'gel as much as possible. Anticipate phased withdrawal."
With that, I followed my team in a rush for the trenches. The shas'las occupying it barely shifted as they fired their pulse rifles. One took the time in the middle of reloading to glance at us, their helmet's visor dented and scored with soot, and gestured at a particularly sparse spot of trench wall.
We shuffled along to fill it, and then an alarm chimed urgently in my helmet.
"Incoming munitions!" someone yelled, loud enough to overlap with the tactical channel.
Training urged me to duck. The shadow that suddenly fell on my surroundings caused me to instantly turn around and tackle Vior'la Kais back with as much force as my legs could manage.
My ears stung as an explosion tore through the helmet's dampeners and deafened them. My optical feed went black as the ground erupted beneath us. Pain overwhelmed me as if a solid wall had run into me at speed.
I barely pushed the pain back and reclaimed my senses to find myself on my back, on solid ground. I turned my head, and the cracked optical feed told me I'd been flung out of the trenches. A part of my mind processed the splashes of cyan tau blood on the brown earth. A detached shoulder plate close by, strapped to a thick chunk of…strapped to a torn arm.
My whole body fucking hurt, but mercifully every limb responded, however painful and slow it might be. I lifted my head slowly, quietly grateful that the muscles only ached, that I could still move.
Then I saw the crater I had just escaped from, the Fire Warriors scattered around it, and the fragmented wreck of what looked like an ork aircraft jutting out the center of it.
Against reason, an ork crawled out of the fire, stained in soot and looking only mildly scarred. It glanced around to note the unmoving bodies, and then noticed me who'd stupidly raised his head to prove that I was alive.
"Kais' fault," I muttered, tasting blood in my mouth, even as I shifted my view to look for my weapon, any weapon.
For me, it meant three tau'cyrs of guarding this site or that, partaking in drills and battle sims, and generally enjoying a nice and uneventful time. For better or worse, I never got assigned to test new weapons in the many facilities of my sept homeworld Fal'shia. That sort of posting is supposed to be one of the more honorable ones, as it meant you were involved in the technological advancement of the Tau Empire.
The Fire, Earth, and Air caste participants who died from the odd (but not odd enough) weapon malfunctions were named on the Por'Hui broadcasts only just below those fallen in combat and the passing of truly significant personalities (often of 'Vre rank and above).
Alas, I missed out on such prestige.
Three tau'cyrs of assignments on ships and outposts passed by with mercifully little excitement, and then of course my latest deployment to a proper tau city was rerouted to an active warzone. Because fuck peace, amirite?
As a consolation, I reunited with Vaal again as we picked up reinforcements enroute to the battlefront. Like many green shas'las he was excited about the fighting that's sure to come.
"We'll be facing the be'gel again," he said during a break, with eyes almost radiating hungry anticipation.
"Don't expect it to be so easy as before," I lightly retorted. "We'll probably be fighting on the open field."
Vaal nodded, his excitement tempered a little. "Very true. But there'll be more than just a team of us, in the same vein."
I replied with a shrug at that, and slipped into the next obvious tactic. "What are the chances we'll face our Trial by Fire there?"
"The shas'uis I've interacted with were certain of it," he answered, frowning mildly. "Even if junior shas'las like ourselves aren't in significant numbers, individual assessments could still be done."
"I suppose we'll know for certain once the team assignments are handed out."
Vaal tapped on his chin, a small gesture of doubt. "Apparently it's not too uncommon if we find ourselves embedded into teams of veteran shas'las. The Trial by Fire would then take their experienced views into consideration."
I clicked my tongue softly and consciously made the gesture of mild annoyance with my hands to soften the irritation I expressed. "I suppose it's best we assume we'll be taking the Trial either way, and hope that our performance here would be taken into consideration if it doesn't happen."
His eyes lit up with some amusement. "I'm sure we won't be judged too harshly if we fail to recite the Sio't in the middle of a firefight."
"Or get shot."
He nodded, still amused. "Or that."
We received our deployment assignments as we neared the afflicted planet in question. Fortunately, Vaal and I were in the same strike team again, along with unfamiliar but no less older faces. A full squad of newbies.
Definitely our Trial by Fire.
Interestingly, there wasn't a shas'ui to lead us this time. Instead, we would be following the orders given through our helmets by the shas'vre who was responsible for the section of the battlefront our team was assigned to. Said section leader would be managing maybe a couple of dozen Fire Warrior teams. According to doctrine, this allowed for the common shas'las to act as a larger cohesive entity on an inflexible battleline while freeing up the shas'uis for other, more specialized tasks.
A vestige of more primitive forms of warfare, yet made more practical thanks to modern communications technology.
There were a few days of integrating with my new team before we finally made landfall, more than enough to cover the basics and then some. Of the eleven other shas'las, Vaal included, none came from Fal'shia like myself, unlike the last time with the demiurg which was about a fifty-fifty split in between the Fal'shia and Dal'yth septs. This time around, Vaal and another comrade were from Dal'yth, another couple were from Vior'la, three hailed from Sa'cea, and four were from hallowed T'au itself.
Between the twelve of us, three were named Kais ('skilled') and two were Shi ('victory'). It added the mild inconvenience of having to add their sept names when referring to them - London John versus Alabama John sort of thing. We hadn't earned new names yet nor were we that familiar to cook up nicknames to further aid in differentiation.
Still, we got along well enough that the protocol of nominating an interim leader on the off chance we lost comms in the battlefield went off rather smoothly. Just as we drilled in the battledomes we exchanged our experiences and revealed our strengths and skills with blunt honesty.
The Tau'va espoused finding one's place on the Path of enlightenment and unity, and the honest appraisal of one's own flaws and strengths was one big step towards that Path. The burden of leadership in particular was one that should be carefully hoisted by the capable, not the eager nor the vain. An unchecked ego often held back or even worked against the harmony and unity of the Tau'va, and more to the point for us Fire Caste warriors it could cost precious tau lives. So a transparent assessment was required, especially among equals such as a team of green Fire Warriors.
Well, that's what was taught anyway. I don't know how much the communal sense of duty held up as one went up the ranks.
In any case, after some discussion and seeking the advice of seniors and superiors, Shas'la T'au Shi was nominated as our team's leader/representative for situations that saw us separated from Shas'ar'tol command.
It also meant that he had the burden of negotiating with the reps of the other teams for our billeting, resupply order, formation preference, and other stuff that was beneath our commanding shas'vre's responsibilities once we made it to the ground. Supposedly, such dealings were carefully noted by the veterans and played a role in our assessments; it made a difference if you'd be promoted to a shas'ui on the leadership track or one that would serve in the frontlines as a battlesuit pilot.
Well, good for him. I personally didn't mind being overlooked for the tau equivalent of officer training.
We made planetfall on a rather bleak ball of dirt within the Vior'la sept. The air was thin, sunlight was dim due to the dense asteroid belt between the nameless planet and its star, and as far as I could see (as well as read from the briefings) the only signs of life on the orange-brown dirt were splotches of lichen and mold.
By all accounts it was a useless ball of dirt, barely worth strip mining. The world didn't even warrant a name or code by the Earth Caste surveyors.
But it was a useless ball of dirt belonging to the Tau Empire, and if I read between the lines correctly this lifeless planet was ideal for whittling down the invaders forces without threatening precious Tau prosperity and infrastructure.
We disembarked no more than a tor'kan - a mile or something? - from our designated frontline. The Orca transport didn't have any windows, so I didn't get to see the state of it as we descended. Standing on compacted earth, the flashes of lights and faint thrumming from the distance felt foreboding.
The last team had barely left the Orcas when our helmets' comms came alive with a sharp voice.
"Fire Warriors. The be'gel are attempting a breakthrough at the assigned section. Reinforce with haste. Devilfish transports will be sent over when they are available."
Footslogging? Fuck…
"Why didn't we disembark closer to the front lines?" Vior'la Kais muttered, almost on cue, in our team comms channel. Almost the literal embodiment of every Vior'lan stereotype, Kais was hot-headed, impatient, eager to prove herself, and spoke with the barest of formalities. She also held a small collection of disciplinary infractions and wore her reckless successes with some esteem.
A small part of me dreaded the possibility that her shonen behavior was the sign of plot armor, or if it marked her for death for the sake of narrative shock. If either was true, it'd likely mean I was well within the range of serving as background collateral or fuel for character development.
"The be'gel are known to wield anti-air assets," T'au Shi replied in his usual calmness. "And the situation is likely not as dire as we might think; our shas'vre would have accounted for our marching speed."
"We should move," Sa'cea Kais cut in with some curtness peeking out of his reserved demeanor, the mirror opposite of his Vior'lan counterpart. Mercifully, the two Kais-es were not tropey rivals.
T'au Shi nodded as the other teams were already marching out of the landing field. The more experienced strike teams were well ahead of everyone else, probably used to this sort of deployment. "Indeed. Move out and maintain loose formation. You can use any leftover energy to speak as we travel."
"Please don't," I couldn't help but quip lightheartedly as we began literally hoofing it. "Otherwise we'll only be hearing Vior'la Kais throughout."
Jura, Vaal's fellow Dal'yth-born comrade, mirrored my amusement. "Quite rich, coming from you…"
Vaal came to my defense, his voice tinted by controlled breaths as we broke into a jog. "X'ing is not one to speak frivolously. Not unless there's something actually absurd to contribute. That he hasn't stared off and forgotten himself yet means that that moment is yet to come."
Or not.
We moved at a comfortable speed, pacing ourselves as we were trained to while keeping an eye out on our surroundings. Six strike teams moved in distinct clumps, pulse rifles shouldered or cradled in both hands. I don't know about the others, but the soft, almost clay-like earth was pressing against my hoof pads in a way that promised soreness.
A quartet of Barracuda air superiority fighters darted past us overhead, quickly becoming specks in the sky even as they strobed with weapons fire.
The small shapes in the distance eventually clarified into silhouettes of battlesuits and grav tanks, along with a couple of lightly armored and expendable defense towers pulsing like light towers as their ion cannons spat bolts. Streaks of black smoke swirled in the distance, and low-hanging clouds revealed themselves to be dispersing smoke fed by black columns coming beyond the tau defenses. The sounds of battle also became louder and clearer, the frequent booms and cracks filtering through our helms as more than just tremors and vibrations.
We were maybe halfway to our destination when our commanding shas'vre chirped in once more.
"Enemy fire is increasing. Be on alert for stray munitions."
As if on cue, a crude rocket appeared from the left of my vision and arced beautifully rightwards, disappearing in a flash of light and dirty smoke.
"Aren't they supposed to be aiming their weapons at our general direction?" Vior'la Kais remarked with some mockery.
"Don't." Vaal and I both rebuked her at the same time, his with added emphasis of a cutting gesture aimed her way.
"What? The be'gel's unruly nature and unreliable technology is common knowledge."
I remembered what ork cleavers and powered claws did to heavy space dorf armor, and then turned to meet Vaal's helmet optics.
"It'll be her fault," I muttered, and he nodded in understanding.
The defensive line was fully in sight, I could make out the backs of individual Fire Warriors poking out of trenches and shooting at the tide of orks closing in. Large almost tau-sized plates darted above the defenders with underslung weapons, the swarm of tau gun drones adding fire from an elevated and more exposed position and drawing a lot of inaccurate ork fire.
A trio of battlesuits jetted skywards before firing their shoulder-mounted missiles into something among the greenskin throng that exploded with an anticlimactic crump. A heavier, Broadside variant stood with its feet firmly planted to the ground, its boxy 'hands' flaring from the discharge of smart missiles while the railguns on its shoulders glowed dimly, ready to fire. Not far to my left, the silhouette of a couple of Devilfish transports hovered low above a smoking section of trenchline, their hulls spanging from ork small-arms fire while the Fire Warriors in the trenches evacuated with the wounded.
It was a very…scenic sight. Lots of clean tau armor and bright blue lights contrasting against the smog, the unpolished metallics of ork weapons and armor, and the dirty green of ork skin maybe a third of a tor'kan away.
The shas'vre spoke again, sounding maybe a little relieved. "Reinforcing teams, aid in suppressing fire. Slow down the be'gel as much as possible. Anticipate phased withdrawal."
With that, I followed my team in a rush for the trenches. The shas'las occupying it barely shifted as they fired their pulse rifles. One took the time in the middle of reloading to glance at us, their helmet's visor dented and scored with soot, and gestured at a particularly sparse spot of trench wall.
We shuffled along to fill it, and then an alarm chimed urgently in my helmet.
"Incoming munitions!" someone yelled, loud enough to overlap with the tactical channel.
Training urged me to duck. The shadow that suddenly fell on my surroundings caused me to instantly turn around and tackle Vior'la Kais back with as much force as my legs could manage.
My ears stung as an explosion tore through the helmet's dampeners and deafened them. My optical feed went black as the ground erupted beneath us. Pain overwhelmed me as if a solid wall had run into me at speed.
I barely pushed the pain back and reclaimed my senses to find myself on my back, on solid ground. I turned my head, and the cracked optical feed told me I'd been flung out of the trenches. A part of my mind processed the splashes of cyan tau blood on the brown earth. A detached shoulder plate close by, strapped to a thick chunk of…strapped to a torn arm.
My whole body fucking hurt, but mercifully every limb responded, however painful and slow it might be. I lifted my head slowly, quietly grateful that the muscles only ached, that I could still move.
Then I saw the crater I had just escaped from, the Fire Warriors scattered around it, and the fragmented wreck of what looked like an ork aircraft jutting out the center of it.
Against reason, an ork crawled out of the fire, stained in soot and looking only mildly scarred. It glanced around to note the unmoving bodies, and then noticed me who'd stupidly raised his head to prove that I was alive.
"Kais' fault," I muttered, tasting blood in my mouth, even as I shifted my view to look for my weapon, any weapon.
