A Lifeboat Adrift (Stellaris x Warhammer 40k)

Fio'vre Ka'buto looked at the holo-displays with trepidation, as did the rest of his team. On it was a triumphant display of the T'au empire's technological might and ingenuity, as hundred of ships, taking care to emphasize the sleek and factory-fresh sheen of the T'au vessels from the humble Manta to the vast Or'es El'leath carrier. Some brief shots and overview of Nicassar Dhows, Kroot Warspheres, Vespid Nest Vessels, Greet Stealthers, and even some repurposed Imperial ships ensured that those that embrace the Greater Good have their spot in the limelight, however short it may be. They hung in the void before Numenor Point, ready for the next step in the T'au Empire' glorious history.

Decades spent scouring through the gue'la' confusingly primitive yet advanced technology. Following multiple false leads, conducting tests which broke labs, orbitals, and cost countless Earth Caste lives. It was all worth it, as now, with him contributing in no small part, his team had come up with what had made the Fourth Sphere Expeditionary Fleet possible; the AL-38 Splistream Module. This anti-matter engine, proved and tested through hundreds of tests and trials would carry forth the T'au Empire through the fires of the Damocles Gulf and claim the awaiting galaxy for their own.

At least, that was the plan.

"There is nothing to worry about. The calculation have been triple-checked, the simulations run-" Ka'buto heard the small whisperings of his assistant, Wiseword, and thought it a mirror to his own thoughts. That they were all doing as their duty commanded them did little to assuage his fears of the repercussion that would come should they fail at such a grand project. At best it would be censure or perhaps a fall through ranks back into a Fio'la or even Fio'saal. At worst? Ka'buto could not even imagine such a thing, and perhaps that was for the best.

"Ten. Nine. Eight." Ka'buto breathed hard though his nasal chasm, taking care to calm himself down with a quick game of reciting through all the elements of the periodic table from the heaviest to the lightest, including their isotopes.

"Seven. Six. Five." Halfway through the list, an errant thought derailed the Ka'buto concentration completely. What if we're all wrong? His hands turned into fists as he tried to reorder his thoughts once more, managing at least to keep his gaze fixed utterly to the holo-display before him. He will face whatever comes.

"Four. Three. Two."

He has no regrets.

"One."

All at once, space was lit up by the glow of anti-matter bubbles shimmering into existence around T'au and ally vessels alike. That brief of beacon of hope and progress quickly turned to horror as space was ripped apart at the seams all around the fleet. And from within this wound came forth misshapen things and colors that bleed the mind of all who saw them. The flicker of fusion-jets turned into full reverse thrust only belied the futility of such an action, as the darkness of unreality swallowed whole every craft that was within reach, leaving behind nothing but a vortex of sickening colors behind.

But that was not all that happened. Before the shock and panic could properly set in, that vortex yawned wide open, spilling forth something even more mind-boggling than the disaster that all had bore witnessed too just moments ago. A prow appeared first, steadily growing wider and longer in size until it had surpassed any ships the T'au had seen in size, and yet it still went on. By the time at last that the hulking mass was revealed fully to the T'au Empire, alarms and emergency protocols were flooding the cadre-net, urging all personnel of class Vre and above to report to their stations for further instructions. But Ka'buto ignored it all, entranced as he was by the sight that would haunt his dreams from now on.

Kor'O Ob'ur, or Admiral Strongchild as he's more commonly known, frowned as he reviewed the gist of the mission he was given to by the Ethereals. He was to observe the actions of the alien vessel that emerged out of the strange vortex at Numenar Point and assess its capabilities. To this end, he was given the command of a relatively small fleet composed primarily of older vessels like the Gal'leath Battleship and the Il'fannor Cruiser, escorted by Kir'qath and Kass'l ships. In his heart, he wished he had more firepower under his command, but the Ethereal have decreed it thus, and so he must obey.

"We are approaching the outskirts of Numenar Point. Decelerating now." Skillblaze, his ship' pilot, called out by the cadre-net. Golden glyphs of affirmation came from the rest of the fleet, the fleet as a whole slowing down enough to finally see the point where it all began. The vortex of unnatural colors was still there, as was the alien ship, though it had moved by a considerable amount since its entrance into T'au space. That confirmed to Strongchild it was not an abandoned hulk, as some had proposed while he was preparing for his mission.

"All ships, make for intercept course of the alien vessel. Do not let it escape from our sight." Strongchild spoke by the cadre-net. "Do not engage in hostilities until fired upon." Another wave of golden glyphs was sent from the other ships of the fleet, their engines now straining to bring them up to speed to catch up to their massive target's unlikely speed.

"The target is slowing down. It appears to be powering up its faster-than-light capabilities." A quiver of fear came through Skillblaze even as he tried to suppress it. "By the Greater Good, their energy signature is massive! Admiral, what are your orders?" Strongchild took in a deep breath through his nasal chasm and pondered on what the right course of action would be. As he was pondering however, a bright flash of light came from where the alien ship was, a wave of energy washing over the admiral's fleet shorly after and overloading their systems, turning them into disabled wrecks for a short while until emergency power kicked on.

"Status report!" Admiral Strongchild barked into the cadre-net. "What's going on?!" Only static greeted the t'au for a short while until the blurry image of an Earth Caste Engineer resolved itself on the bridge' holo-display.

"Farlight, what has happened to my fleet? Are we not shielded from electromagnetic attacks such as that one?" The admiral spoke the technical term with some difficulty, only being familiar with such things as simply a matter of course on the dangers of navigating through the hostile environment that was space.

"Apologies, admiral, on behalf of the Earth Caste. It appears that our current countermeasures are not up to par to that level of electrical discharge. Rest assured, core systems will be brought back online in a short while, and we will be able to resume the mission without delay." The engineer gave the sign of contrition and resolve-upon-failure before disconnecting. Strongchild grit his teeth at this failure but restrained his anger for now.

Yes, such was unbecoming of an Air Caste Admiral. He was not a Fire Caste after all; he did not have the luxury of engaging in combat where the enemy could be seen most of the time. He needs to temper his fury, turn it into the cold focus of one who is in tune with their vessel. His endeavor bore fruit just as an Ethereal entered the bridge, followed closely behind by her two guards. A grav-belt on her waist ensured every step she took was light and airy, as though she'd take flight with the next one. She was Aun'H'an, who was enlisted into the mission by the divine will of Aun'Va himself.

"A great tremor ran through the ship, Admiral. What has become of our pursuit of the alien craft?" Aun'H'an said, making the gesture of inquiry-without-fault. Admiral Strongchild stood up from his command throne, cursing himself for forgetting to call upon

"Master H'an, I apologize for the delay. Our quarry has proved to be an elusive one that has escaped our grasp this time. I will ensure that we are better prepared for the next encounter once our fleet have completed their repairs." Aun'H'an looked around the bridge, taking note of the fizzling holo-screens and other electronics with an unimpressed stare before looking back at Admiral Strongchild.

"No need. We shall turn back to Au'Taal and make the repairs there." Strongchild's eyes widened as he went through a slew of emotions all at once. Surprise, then confusion, followed by a spike of disbelief, before turning into calm acceptance of the situation.

"Of course, honored one. Your will be done." Admiral Strongchild said, making the sing of the Greater Good before returning back to his duty, overseeing things with a focus usually reserved for combat. He would not fail on this task. That is a promise.

---

The Au'Taal Sept's deep space sensor buoys were the first ones to detect the incoming alien ship's enormous energy signature as it slowed back down to subliminal speeds in realspace. The closest ones found themselves damaged beyond repair by the energy surges that clung to the alien ship as it passed them by. The alien ship's trajectory brought it close to the orbital path of a gas giant, where an orbital habitat inhabited mainly by T'au auxiliaries lived. They were the first one to witness the alien ship in its entirety, as well as the massive electrical discharges the vessel unloaded onto the gas giant's atmosphere before moving on to a course that would bring it within spitting distance of Au'Taal Prime. Before long, the entire Au'Taal Sept had became aware of the new unwelcome visitor to their system.

This was without a doubt the greatest crisis to have befallen the Sept since its inception centuries ago. The atmosphere was heavy as the Elemental Council of Au'Taal convened an emergency session to discuss what should be done about the alien ship whose size still escaped the comprehension of most who saw it without reference moving through space. All members of the T'au Castes were in attendance without exception, as well as a Kroot Shaper and Nicassar delegate.

"I believe that is everyone in attendance." Aun'Eldi, the Ethereal in charge of the Au'Taal Elemental Council spoke up. "Let us start this emergency meeting of minds to discuss the best approach possible in light of Unknown Species No. 4521, to be referred to as 'Xetans' for the remainder of this session. High Ambassador Understone, how goes your efforts to communicate with the Xetan ship?" A holographic projection of the vessel in question appeared in the middle of the room, its details remarkably precise with how little time there was to gather any data.

"My deepest apologies, ethereal master, but so far we've only been met with silence in our attempts to hail the Xetans. The ship bears no markings whatsoever, not even a symbol upon which we might be able to extrapolate some information. In this, we have failed you most deeply." The T'au in question bowed deeply at Aun'Eldi's direction, his hands making the gesture of deepest contrition and regret.

"I see. I give you no fault High Ambassador, and thank you for your efforts." The Ethereal gave a curt sign of gratitude to the Ambassador, who returned it with the sign for the Greater Good, and moved his sights next to the Air Caste representative. "High Admiral Nightstorm, what have your scouts been able to glean from field observations of the Xetan ship in motion? Does it have any armaments? How fast can it move?"

"Your ethereal majesty, the Xetan ship bears no armaments of any kinds. It also does not appear to have what we can identify as sensor suites, entry points, command modules, or indeed any kind of identifiable features besides the six fins attached towards its back." The High Admiral made a gesture to zoom in at the back of the alien ships, where those eponymous fins could be seen in much more detail, with three of them clasping what appears to be an invisible orb that refused to be seen. "We have detected faint emissions coming from this area which would suggest that this part is responsible for the Xetan ship' propulsion. As for how fast the vessel is moving, it is comparable to a Kass'l Gunship class at normal cruising speed." The true scope of that statement went unnoticed for most in the room save for the Ethereal and the High Admiral himself, who looked positively haunted as he delivered that little tidbit of news.

"Thank you Admiral for your contribution." Aun'Eldi gave thanks with a gesture of polite-retreat. There were now only two T'au left to consider, High Commander Needlesight or High Planner Shadeguard. The former was a veteran of the Second Expansion Sphere, earning the right to retire to Au'Taal after an Ork ambush left him with severe injuries which was only salvageable with extensive cybernetic replacements. He, of course, turned the ambush back on the orks and led the counter-attack to ork positions further in beyond the frontline. The latter was an unusually acerbic T'au by Earth Caste standards. This friction with his fellow Earth Caste members caused him to be indirectly isolated by his peers, which led his current posting at Au'Taal, where his behavior was either ignored or seen as a source of entertainment by the planet's aging Fire Caste population.

"High Planner Shadeguard, your report please on the possible technological make-up of the Xetan ship. Is there a way to discern its internal structure? What have your sensors told you about" The Earth Caste T'au nearly leaped out of his seat, his body positively vibrating with excitement and awe.

"Yes, your ethereal highness. We've found a wealth of information from our drones and sensor relays scattered throughout the system. Observe." Shadeguard brought up a display of Au'Taal star system and plopped in the alien ship' current position as well as its previous path through space. "It first appeared at the edge of the system' gravity well, discharging an enormous amount of energy which was registered by the deep space sensor buoys placed there for observation purposes.

"It then made for Kor'vash'a and discharged once again what appeared to be static charge onto the gas giant's upper atmospheres before now going on its current course to Au'Taal Prime. What this tells us is that the Xetan ship is composed of a material orders of magnitude stronger than any alloys we currently have in our tech base.

"Additionally, gravitational analysis has revealed that the Xetan ship is somehow sheathed in layers of artificial gravity molded into itself like a shield. It brings up an exciting new possibility for our own applications of anti-grav, but that's not the most profound thing that was found in the data." Shadeguard zoomed in the holographic display once more into the alien ship, turning it around until the viewpoint was not looking at the vessel from the back straight-on, to find absolutely nothing staring back.

"This is an artificial singularity. The Xetans are able to manipulate gravity to such a degree that the extreme gravity of this celestial object is not a problem for them. In fact, I believe they are utilizing this singularity to somehow affect space-time itself in ways we cannot even begin to imagine. They are, by far, one of the most advanced alien species I've ever seen in the galaxy." The Earth Caste representative sat back down after his provocative report none too disturbed by what he just said. If anything, he seemed positively giddy, almost euphoric in fact.

"We will discuss further later, High Planner Shadeguard. Thank you for your contribution." Aun'Eldi gave a smile that had no warmth to them to the Earth Caste T'au, before moving on to the last member of the Ethereal Council yet to give his voice. "High Commander Needlesight, do you have any insight into our current situation which might illuminate the path forward?"

The Fire Caste T'au looked pensive before he stood up before his peers and master, clearing his throat before speaking. "Esteemed ethereal, I believe the Xetans, whoever they are, are not hostile to the T'au. No move was made to retaliate against any Air Caste vessels that fired upon them, nor did they intentionally try to destroy any orbital installations that were in their way. Their moves are not those of a hostile alien race. Until new information arrives that says otherwise, my recommendation is hold hostilities with them for now." A mild shock came over the Elemental Council at the sight of a Fire Caste Commander urging non-combat as an option, but that was soon quietened by the Ethereal's next words.

"I agree with your assessment, High Commander. Au'Taal Sept shall move to ready itself for first contact with our new alien guests. Cancel the state of emergency for the civilian population. High Ambassador Understone, I want you to work with High Planner Shadeguard to ensure our visitors will have the very best impressions of T'au culture and civilization. High Admiral Nightstorm, prepare to receive the alien ship in orbit and make sure to prepare enough shuttles on-hand to transport their people down should they need it. And High Commander Needlesight? I want you to pick out your best warriors to form the honor guard that will be escorting myself, the Water Caste delegations, as well as the alien's delegations on the ceremonial parade through the city. Am I understood?" All present nodded and gave the sign of the Greater Good, which was echoed in kind by Aun'Eldi, who for the first time since the meeting started gave a genuine smile for all to see.

"Meeting dismissed.

Renthaya Grondgun stared at the broadside window with awe, as did many other of her crewmates as they saw the grand majesty of the alien ship hanging in the void near Au'Taal Prime. The ship they were on, a captured Imperial mining vessel called 'Done With It', was on final approach to Au'Taal Prime to unload their precious cargo of minerals and other raw resources mined from an unnamed barren world near the edge of the star system. It had taken them the better part of an Imperial Year or two to get there, fill their quota, and then get back, but their perseverance had paid off with a front-row view to history.

"Is that a new tau ship? It looks huge." A young bridge crew named Tom called out, only to shut up once a fair few stares went his way. "It's all sleek and stuff, and shiny."

"Looks like Eldar scum to me." An old veteran spat at the ground, touching an old scar that ran from his forehead, through his left eye, ending at the lower left jaw. "Those cursed xenos burned my homeworld clean while I watched from orbit. Left it a barren world, and then they just left. Didn't even give us survivors the courtesy of death. I hope the Emperor kills them all to the very last one."

"Max, old boy, give it a rest. We've all heard your stories a million times by now." A young man patted the old man on the back, which earned him a gaze full of murder. "But hearing it one more time certainly isn't going to kill anyone. Take it away, Max."

"Oh you're all laughing now. But you won't be laughing when they tear you limb from limb quicker than you can blink. You won't be laughing when they line up the heads of your commanding officers one after the other like a fucking totem while leaving the rest of us untouched. You won't be laughing when the Emperor's Angels themselves get gutted and ran through like an Underhive brothel and no one knows until the very next day. No, you won't be laughing at all ever again." Max's rant captivated everybody on the bridge, so much so that none of them noticed a proximity alert appear in one of the hololiths before shutting down shortly after.

A loud beeping noise came from the ship' command throne, taking everyone's attention to it and reminding Renthaya that she was, in fact, still on the job as Captain for the moment. Easing back into her seat, she shivered as a draft of cold air blew across her face, sterilized from its journey into the ship's bowels to be recycled of waste products and toxins. She pressed the flashing button and came face to face with the impassive face of one Kor'O D'Yanaan, the Air Caste Representative of Au'Taal's Elemental Council.

"To all ships around Au'Taal Prime not part of the Kor'vattra, halt all approach until you have received further instruction. Locate the nearest spaceport or orbital your ship is capable of docking with, and await further instruction. Any attempt of forced entry into the planet will be met with extreme force. This is an automated message on behalf of the Au'Taal Sept Elemental Council. For the Greater Good." Renthaya stared at the looping display projected from her command throne for several more seconds before shutting it down and massaging her suddenly throbbing temple.

It's always one thing or another. She thought as her dreams of going back home were delayed once more.

---

As with all Septs, Au'Taal has its own Protection Fleet or Kor'vattra in the T'au language. Its location deep in T'au space and numerous fortifications in space and on land meant that such a fleet do not see action often, and such would be the case in any other day. Today however, they were found wanting as the sheer size and durability of the alien ship intruding upon the star system meant that their attempts to destroy the assumed threat proved futile and a waste of resources. Though none of Au'Taal's Air Caste would dare voice or think of any dissent against their sacred duty to the Greater Good, many were outwardly relieved when the order came to cease hostilities and prepare instead to escort the alien ship on its ponderous journey to Au'Taal.

"So our revered masters have decided to try the hand of diplomacy after such a poor showing by the Protection Fleet." Captain Mirrorstrike softly whispered to himself as he saw the res of Au'Taal's fleets array themselves into an escort detail surrounding the alien ship on all sides except for its back. His own starship, a Defender-class, had taken the point of putting itself on an interception path between the alien ship and a Custodian-class Carrier.

"Incoming communications from Au'Taal Prime. It's from-" The golden symbol of the Ethereals flashed from the Water Caste' display, clearly seen to all. "-. Patching our ethereal masters through now." Slowly, like a vision from a dream, the sage figure of Aun'Eldi graced the eyes of everyone on the bridge.

"To what do we owe this honor, etheral majesty?" Captain Mirrorstrike bowed his head at the hologram.

"Captain Mirrorstrike. I will be brief. You have been reassigned to a new fleet under the command of Admiral Suresword. Further details will be sent by an envoy shuttle shortly." And just like that, the Master of the Au'Taal Sept was gone. Everyone on the bridge looked at each other before eventually settling their gaze on Captain Mirrorstrike, who seemed like a T'au turned into stone. His petrification was short-lived, as he regained his composure and soon barked orders to the other T'au, his face betraying nothing of the array of questions bubbling underneath his skin.

Similar scenes played throughout the rest of the Protection Fleet. At the end of this remobilization, about a third of the fleet detached itself from the escort convoy and moved out into the outermost planet of the Au'Taal system, where they restocked and rearmed as needed, then headed out and about, their destination unknown to all but a very select few.

All eyes that matter, however, were on Au'Taal Prime for now.

---

The entire assemblage of Au'Taal's Elemental Council sat in silence aboard Aun'Eldi's personal craft, an Emissary-Class Starship named 'The Peace Between Worlds'. The alien ship was now keeping apace with Au'Taal in its own orbit around the system's star, some ten thousand kilometers or so away from the planet. That it had chosen to halt its approach, and yet still ignored all hails did not bode well for a friendly first contact, but hope must still be kept for now. And in the event that violence proved inevitable, the Kor'vattra has set up an impressive trap all the same, diminished as it was.

Aun'Eldi could hear those around him busying themselves in various ways while they waited for him to awake. He was, to the outside observer, meditating upon his grav-throne, flanked as always by his two most trusted Ethereal guards, but in truth he was taking in the moment as it happened. High Admiral Nightstorm was relaying an anecdote about his younger days to a Water Caste biographer, getting off tangent several times to the exasperation of his captive audience.

High Commander Needlesight discussed battlesuit tactics with his fellow Fire Caste commanders, looking up field reports of engagements done against the Imperium's Titan Legions at the same time. High Planner Shadeguard was engrossed in the schematics of a device whose function escaped any comprehension for all save a fellow Earth Caste, and so Aun'Eldi made no effort to even try. High Ambassador Understone, perfectionist that he was in his job, was in the middle of memorizing once more every alien language the T'au had ever encountered, as well all of their recognized dialects and slangs.

Aun'Eldi felt pride in his heart swell at the sight of the Castes perfectly in unison as the Greater Good intended. It has taken many generations of careful breeding and education to come to this point, and now their abilities would be tested to the limit. We are to be silk hiding steel; graceful yet unbowed when struck. Aun'Eldi recalled the words of the great Aun'va when he was but a stripling, still studying the ways of the Ethereals on the sacred T'au homeworld.

Just as Aun'Eldi resolved to stop spying on his subjects and meditate properly while he still had the chance, loud gasps were heard all around the bridge. Right in front of the Peace Between Worlds, so close that one could touch it with an outstretched hand, was another alien ship, uncloaked from complete transparency to full visibility in just under a microdec. It was a much smaller craft than the Emissary-Class Starship, but still large enough that a head-on collision would prove fatal.

For the first time in his long life, Aun'Eldi was at a lost for words. And that moment of shock extended when an Air Caste console blinked with a request for open channels. The crew in question looked at his superior, who looked at hers, who looked at his, who then looked at the ship's captain, who looked at the High Admiral, who at last looked at Aun'Eldi. The ethereal faintly felt his head nod, and the chain of command snapped back to execute that command, leading to an open channel broadcast to the entire bridge, seemingly of random static at first.

And then-

"-t'Au?"

-there it was. The voice a poor pastiche of a true T'au, but unmistakably speaking in T'au Lexicon. Silence reigned for another dec before that same alien voice spoke again, saying that same word in a different tone, almost like a question. Immediately, this broke the spell that took hold of everyone on the bridge, their bodies moving according to the training ingrained into them over the years. Aun'Eldi gave the High Ambassador one look and the T'au hurried to the active Air Caste console with a speed his soft body was grossly unaccustomed to.

He, however, didn't start replying to the alien, who had now repeated itself for a third time with a tone considerably lower than before. The High Ambassador produced a datadisk from his person and inserted it into the proper slot, gently patting the Air Caste in charge of said console to do his part. With practiced ease, he went over the holographic displays and terminal, several packets of data were sent over to the alien ship, carrying with it a veritable wealth of information, more than enough for an intelligent mind or two to put together and discover the key to communicating with the T'au. Several tense minutes passed in which everyone held their breath, then the comms channel buzzed once more with the telltale sign of an incoming signal.

"Testing, can you hear me clearly now? Your data package was most helpful in helping us translate your language. Thank you very much for that." The alien voice now spoke in near-flawless T'au, even enunciating certain things the way some T'au from certain Septs did. "Unfortunately, I don't think our systems are compatible enough to send visual data at an acceptable resolution. Would you be amenable to a face-to-face meeting, T'au?"

"My name is Aun'Eldi, the Ethereal Voice of Au'Taal, and we would be most amenable to such a meeting. To whom am I speaking to?" The ethereal spoke up, standing up from his command throne and towering over everyone.

"Aun'Eldi. Yes, names. My deepest apologies for not introducing myself first. I am the Mentat, the Head of Science of the Ascentron Circurrency." The T'au at last had a name to the new alien race that had caused them so much trouble recently. Every Water Caste on the bridge, as well some of the T'au Auxiliaries, were busy recording every moment of this historic interaction, preserving it for posterity. "Shall we meet in your ship or in ours? Either choice is acceptable."

"Let us meet in an orbital instead. We will lead the way." Aun'Eldi replied, letting his eyes rest on the ship's captain, who began charting a course to the closest orbital capable of receiving the Peace Between Worlds and its new tagalong.

"Splendid. I'll see you soon." The Mentat ended the comms link and the Ascentron ship began to move up and back away from the Peace Between Worlds. It moved with uncanny agility and speed, settling in at the Emissary-Class Starship's starboard side. In the distance loomed the Ascentron' Mothership, still as silent and inscrutable as ever.

The orbital that ended up being chosen was a rather humble one, flying around on a polar-to-polar orbit as a glorified supply depot. The Air Caste onboard were understandably shocked when the Peace Between Worlds requested docking access for itself and an alien ship, followed by what was left of the Au'Taal Protection Fleet keeping a close on eye on their charge. It was hardly the kind of venue High Ambassador Understone would have picked for a first contact with a non-hostile alien race, but he serves as ever at the behest of his ethereal masters.

A table was hastily erected in the middle of the reception area where the T'au was expecting their alien guest. Aun'Eldi sat comfortably in his own grav-throne, his two ethereal guards spaced about a step farther than usual behind him. To his right was High Ambassador Understone and High Admiral Nightstorm. To his left was High Commander Needlesight and High Planner Shadeguard. The Kroot Shaper and Nicassar Delegate had declined a seat, the former more at ease with his guard up around a new alien race and the latter simply not fond of seats in general.

"The Ascentrons seems to be taking their time to reach us." Shadeguard said, seemingly not aimed at anyone in particular. "Are they having trouble with the docking procedure? Something to think about, yes. Better magnetic clamps and atmospheric seals perhaps."

"No, the orbital crew confirmed the Ascentron successfully docked their ship." Understone replied, raising his voice a tad so everyone could hear him. "I believe they might just be preparing themselves a little while longer."

"Or it could be a trap." Needlesight grumbled, raising the room's tension to his Water Caste peer's annoyance. "We could have fortified this room better, erect a barrier to protect Aun'Eldi from harm."

"I am not as unguarded as you might think, High Commander. And we are the T'au. We face the unknown bravely, without fear or doubt." The High Ethereal in command addressed his subordinates at last. "I believe the Mentat means us no harm, and that will be the case until such time that is no longer true."

"By your will, I hear and obey." Needlesight bowed his head and made the gesture of deepest contrition. The rest made the sign of the Greater Good, and

silence came back to the reception room for a time. At least, until at last the door at the other side slid open, and their guests strolled right in.

First, two highly advanced drones hovered in, their many eyes scanning their surroundings while their tentacled arms swam through the air. Then a rock sculpture went through the threshold, floating in mid-air before Understone realized that it was alive. Its exoskeleton was composed of two parts, with the outer layer composed of large red blocks and the inner one made out of smooth, white pebbles. Two pairs of powerful arms dangled off its sides with a smaller, more delicate pair of vestigial legs positioned near the front of its mesa-shaped torso. At where a neck would be was instead a crown of white pyramids, the same color as its exoskeleton's second layer. There were no eyes that could be seen, nor a mouth or any kind of orifice that one would expect to find in an ordinary living being. Understone realized he had his work cut out for him. Finally, two more advanced drones rounded up the Ascentron's group, which the High Ambassador took as the cue to start talking.

"Sorry about the wait. The ship got finicky trying to couple with your docking ports, which by the way are in remarkable shape for how well-used they are. But we're here now, and I gotta ask, couldn't we have gotten on a better orbital? I know I've seen bigger ones on the way here." The Mentat's voice came out of seemingly thin air, which now fully keyed in everyone else that the living Earth Caste art project was in fact the alien they had all met not a dec ago. "Oh you've got seats. That's very kind of you. I hope you don't mind I'm not actually sitting on them."

"Not at all, please make yourself comfortable, Mentat?" Understone finally found his voice, reeling back in the tiny squeak that came out at the start of his sentence.

"Yes, that's me. Or The Mentat, if you really want to be all formal about it. But we're not really in an official setting, are we? At least, not yet. There's something you want to confirm first, isn't that right, Aun'Eldi?" Even without eyes, the alien had managed to single out the High Ethereal from every other T'au present. An unspoken tension ran between Aun'Eldi's two ethereal guards, both of which took an imperceptible half-step forward.

"You are most correct, Mentat. Your people's sudden arrival in this Sept has brought great concern and panic among the populace. As the head of those tasked with the wellbeing and safety of my people, I would like to know first and foremost your intentions of intruding into T'au space. Whether you be friend, or foe." Aun'Eldi's face was a study of classical ethereal grace and poise, his words soothing yet unrelenting; a stream whose flow cannot be dammed.

"I see. That does make sense. I can tell you now that the Oracle has no wish to war upon anyone who means us no harm. We were simply trying to get our bearings in this new universe, that's all." Faces of confusion flashed through most of the T'au present, save for Shadeguard, whose pupils widened until his eyes were consumed by them. Even Aun'Eldi was caught off-guard by the Mentat's choice of words, unsure if it was mistake in translation or some Ascentron word that couldn't be properly described by the T'au Lexicon.

"If that is the case, then I declare the Ascentron to be our honored guests. Let it all be known that the T'au are generous with their friends, and merciless to their foes. I will leave you to it, High Ambassador Understone." Aun'Eldi nodded at the Water Caste T'au before sitting back down, eyes closed in an attempt at deep meditation.

"Thank you, ethereal master. Now-"

"Wait a moment. Before we go any further, I'd my friends to introduce themselves first. Make sure we all don't get off on the wrong foot." Any questions Understone was about to ask died in his throat as he watched those same highly advanced drones he'd dismissed out of hand change their forms before his very eyes. The roughly T'au sized automatons expanded in size and complexity, new parts coming online and humming with power that reminded the High Ambassador of the Fire Caste's Battlesuits. Fire Caste warriors arrayed themselves into firing squads with their pulse rifles at the ready, while the other castes scrambled to get out of the way of the coming conflict.

"What is the meaning of this?!" High Commander Needlesight shouted, aiming his custom pulse rifle at the Mentat's dead center. While the T'au scrambled to regain their order, the Ascentrons finished their transformations. Each were the size of a T'au Crisis Battlesuit, towering over everyone else in the orbital's reception area. One skittered on multiple legs, panels jutting out of its back while a large eye denoted its face. Another flew on back-mounted jets, its three pairs of limbs retracted into stubs on its chest. The other two Ascentrons took on T'au-like forms, standing on two legs. No T'au would confess to having four arms, however, nor would they wave around prehensile tails almost as long as they were tall.

"These are my peers. They are scientists. They are Ascentron." Those three simple sentences bounced around in the minds of every T'au present, especially in one Shadeguard who looked like he was about to faint from the excitement. "They couldn't fit through the hallway, so they had to shrink back down to something smaller."

"You couldn't have told us that the Ascentrons were machines beforehand?" Aun'Eldi spoke up, his previous serene aura now replaced with unyielding steel. "This is highly irregular behavior, Mentat."

"I didn't think that was something worth nothing about." The Mentat spoke honestly, "But I can see now that was a mistake. Apologies, everyone. Can you please lower your weapons now?" High Commander Needlesight scowled at the alien's demand, but one look from Aun'Eldi and the Fire Caste T'au acquiesced, followed soon after by his subordinates.

"I think this calls for a re-introduction." The Ascentron whose prehensile tail was colored bright red spoke up. "My name is Navi Kibi, and I'm a scientist."

"I'm Ansion Exa. Nice to meet you." The Ascentron with a bright blue tail spoke up, waving his two right arms at the T'au present. "Oh, I'm a scientist too."

"As you might have already guessed by now, we are all scientists. I am known as Simul Zetta." The Ascentron whose look reminded Understone uncomfortably of the Arachen spoke up.

"I am Zation Mebi. Pleased to meet you all." The last Ascentron said his piece, hovering around comfortably with the propulsion from his back-jets.

"Shall we get back to the discussions at hand?" The Mentat spoke up, seemingly unaware of the heightened tension that had now befallen the reception area. "Or do we adjourn for now and get back to it once we're in somewhere more appropriate?" Understone was of two minds about that. For one, they have, at the very least, a better idea of who their new guests were now. But what little they do know wouldn't be of much help with how soured the mood were now with the Ascentron's surprise.

No, we have to get a win. Understone thought as he gave Needlesight a passing glance of disapproval. Information for information. We need to know more about them, and they need to know more about us. Start with something small, and then work from there.

"It's fine, Mentat. We can continue our discussions here for now. But please, moving forward, can you not spring any more surprises like this on us? We of the T'au have had to deal with a lot of nasty ones as our empire expanded through the stars." Understone laid down a simple request to the Mentat, who mulled over the matter for a second before giving a nod.

"Are there not machine empires in this galaxy?" Simul Zetta spoke up, leaning down so his one eye could look at Understone better. "It was common enough back home."

"Not to my knowledge, no." Understone replied, seizing the opportunity to ask more questions. "We have many alien species in the T'au Empire, but none of them are like you. Where are you all from?"

"It's a long story." Ansion Exa said, switching gears once he realized he would need to give the T'au something to work with. "But we Ascentrons came from an ocean planet called Dekronia. We lived in the depths peacefully for many years until at last we decided to look out beyond the waves and see what the stars have to offer."

"Do you have a map of the galaxy? We've been flying blind ever since we came out of that Shroud portal." Zation Mebi asked, unaware of the sudden spike of tension running through the T'au present.

"The Shroud portal." Understone repeated, looking at Aun'Eldi to see the ethereal's reaction to that little tidbit of information. "Did you Ascentrons make said portal?"

"No, we found it by chance while trying to get out. Why? Did some of you get caught in that?" The Mentat asked, his mind only now beginning to piece together the reason why the T'au had been so agitated when they first arrived in-system. Understone looked at Aun'Eldi for permission to proceed, seeing as the loss of the Fourth Sphere of Expansion was rapidly becoming a stain on the T'au Empire's record of glorious rapid expansion. An official narrative was already being put in place wherein the lost fleet had instead completed their simultaneous jumps and were now safely in-transit beyond the reaches of the Damocles Gulf's flames. Aun'Eldi knew all this and narrowed his eyes at Understone. The meaning was clear.

"Yes, some of our people were unfortunately caught and we're trying to get them back. We would appreciate any help we can get on the matter." Understone smoothly swept over the whole thing under the rug. "You can see why we were so nervous at your arrival to our system."

"You thought we were responsible for that." Navi Kibi said out loud what every T'au had thought was true. "The timing is rather uncanny if what you say is true."

"It is." Understone said tightly, "We are at war with many foes, and this tragedy has not helped us at all. It is a great loss, and one we would not soon forget." A moment of reflection passed as all the T'au present mourned the senseless taking of their kindred, and what it represented for the empire as a whole.

"My condolences." The Mentat spoke, followed with similar sentiments by the Ascentron. "Tragedy oft follows the bold; those who would tread the paths no one else dares. We know a thing or two about that, believe it or not." A dark mood passed through the Mentat before leaving as quickly as it came.

"So, why have you come here, Mentat? What do you want, really?" Understone spoke at last the meat of the matter, which both the T'au and the Ascentrons have been dancing around now for almost an hour.

"We would like some survey information about the star systems in your empire. Specifically ones that are not inhabited by anyone, including your empire. We would like to settle down and find somewhere safe where we can figure out our next moves from here on out." The Mentat spoke, his tone even as ever. "Of course, we would be more than happy to trade with you several things from our storage. Raw materials and processed goods. All kinds of services of every variety that you can imagine and more. Even some of our tech should an acceptable research agreement be drafted for perusal by our legal departments. We Ascentrons are, first and foremost, a Megacorp dedicated to bringing the very best the universe has to offer, both the one before and this one."

"We would be more than happy to provide you with the survey data. However, as to the matter of you settling worlds within our space is something beyond my authority as the leader of Au'Taal Sept. You'd have to make your appeal directly to the Ethereal Council at T'au." Aun'Eldi spoke up, taking over from Understone. "Aside from that, you are still quite an unknown in our empire, Mentat. You have a spaceship that dwarfs even the Air Caste' orbital cities and fortress stations. Your method of FTL apparently discharges so much power that it can knock out surrounding fleets and orbital stations. You are dangerous."

"Are you kicking us out?" Navi Kibi asked, hugging his red tail as it curled around an arm.

"No. I have given you my word that you are to be considered as honored guests of the T'au. Even after your unwelcome surprise, Ascentrons, I will not revoke my word on the matter. You may stay in Au'Taal Sept until such times that my fellow Ethereals declare that you cannot." Aun'Eldi stood up from his seat, followed by the rest of the Elemental Council. "In five rotaa, I will hold a celebration in your honor. I believe that is sufficient time for the rest of the empire to arrive and deliberate further on the matter of your request. Is that acceptable, Mentat?"

"Five rotaa, hold on, how long is that?" The Mentat asked. Understone gave a subtle eye-flick at one of his aides, who hurriedly moved forward with a holo-tablet on hand already filled with the requisite information about the T'au's way of keeping time. "I see, that is a lot of time. It's unfortunate we couldn't seal the deal now, but I am glad we have come to an agreement all the same. Shall we shake to it?" The Mentat floated forward towards Aun'Eldi, his two right arms held up in a friendly gesture. The ethereal considered the appendages for a moment before grasping it with his own right hand, shaking each limb firmly and nodding as Water Caste T'au scrambled to commit the event to history.

So ends the T'au Empire and Ascentron Circurrency's first ever meeting.

Since that first meeting at the polar orbital (whose crew was quickly sworn to secrecy), the Ascentrons and the T'au have gradually began to open up to one another, even as the burgeoning relationship encountered stumbling blocks early on. The T'au's request to enter the Horizon Needle—what the Ascentrons called their humongous spaceship—was quickly rejected out of hand, the Mentat citing security concerns. When pressed further by what he meant by that, the rock ornament simply chuckled and asked if the T'au would let him and the Ascentrons waltz freely into the T'au homeworld and do as they wished with what they found in the planet. Further escalation was defused with the assiduous efforts of High Ambassador Understone and his aides, as well as the Ascentron scientist, Simul Zetta.

It took the two sides the better part of one rotaa to come up with a workable guideline to interacting with one another. The core tenets of which are thus:

All Ascentrons must be accompanied by a member of the Water Caste at all times.

Unless the interaction is appropriate for their Caste, all interactions between the T'au and the Ascentrons will be conducted through a Water Caste intermediary.

Any new additions to the Ascentron's roster must be informed beforehand to the T'au and any relevant information disclosed.

The Ascentrons have free access to all T'au facilities with some exceptions.

The Ascentrons have diplomatic immunity for the duration of their stay in Au'Taal Sept.

Any public information about the Ascentrons must not be censored and presented as-is, with as little bias as possible.

Of the demands the Ascentrons made from their hosts, their last one both confused and frustrated High Ambassador Understone the most. It seems the Ascentrons were aware of the mechanisms which drive the court of public opinion in an interstellar empire. However, rather than taking advantage of it to elevate their status, as the T'au have done to make their Auxiliaries to make them 'palatable' for their populace, the Ascentrons have instead wished to have the T'au public make their own opinions on the matter. It was a dangerous game which gave even Aun'Eldi pause before he gave the order to Understone to approve the request, with some caveats on the side.

After this initial guideline was put into place, the Mentat immediately made a request for two Ascentrons to gain entry to Au'taal Prime. The first was for an Official, a crafty diplomat named Autono Kibi. He was to take over all diplomatic duties from the Mentat and become the official ambassador of the Ascentron Circurrency to the T'au Empire. The approval for his entry came easily enough. The problem started when the time came to evaluate the entry for the next candidate; a Commander called Digi Quipu.

---

High Commander Needlesight didn't earn his rank by luck or field promotions. Oh, he's had to step up to the plate when his superiors got caught by a Gue'ronsha ambush, or a Be'gel charge, or some other alien menace. Once the problem was over, however, he was always content to go back to his post and serve as a loyal weapon of the T'au Empire, to be pointed at the enemy and let loose. But the ethereals knew the Fire Caste' true worth far better than the T'au in question, and so he rose through the military hierarchy until one day, he was made High Commander of Au'Taal Sept.

For almost twenty tau'cyrs, that was the reality Needlesight lived in. An unbroken cycle of command, training, self-affirmation of the Greater Good, broken only by the occasional intrusion of marauding Be'gel forces arriving from wandering space hulks. He would have been content to live in such a way until his eventual passing, or perhaps he may serve even longer afterward, as can be attested by the success of the Warghost or Ob'lotai of Farsight's retinue fame. Not that Needlesight would ever admit to admire a more traitorous band of T'au this side of the Damocles Gulf.

But now it seems his time in the spotlight has come, and Needlesight hated it. He could not articulate exactly why he found the Ascentrons so distasteful; he was no Water Caste after all. He could, however, draw from his own experience, which told him that the newest race the T'au had found so far was hiding something behind their friendly facade. He didn't know what this big secret was, but Needlesight was adamant not to let it befall the T'au Empire while his body still drew breath.

It was with this mindset and healthy dose of suspicion that the High Commander found himself in one of Au'Taal's largest simulation domes, piloting his XV86 Coldstar Battlesuit against the newest Ascentron to be granted permit to Au'Taal Prime; a fellow Commander by the name of Digi Quipu. It was not Needlesight' choice to evaluate the alien warrior personally. He was after all High Commander and beholden to greater responsibilities than a simple test of mettle and skill. That was the case before the Ascentron fired the first shot.

Your primitive stratagems and sub-adequate equipments may have won you paltry claims, but your little empire will never encompass the stars as mine have not so long ago. You fight wars of survival, not wars of conquest. I wonder if your weakness is your own, or if your leaders are similarly inept. The Ascentron had cornered the High Commander as it ignored everyone else, its cold eyes finding weaknesses where Needlesight found strength. The uproar that occurred soon after paled to the pounding of the High Commander's heart in his chest. If he was a more restrained Fire Caste, a closer follower of the Kauyon way of warfare, then perhaps Needlesight could see the trap the Ascentron Commander had laid by his brusque manner. It was a test he could have passed the easy way if he had retained his calm, but instead Needlesight immediately issued a challenge to the alien for his disrespect.

And now he was here, checking every part of his battlesuit to ensure everything was working as the Earth Caste intended. The only audience to this test would be the High Ambassador Understone with his aides, High Planner Shadeguard (who had somehow heard of what happened and insisted to take part as an observer), the new Ascentron diplomat Autono Kibi, as well as the miscellaneous Earth Caste workers, technicians, and engineers scrambling to ensure the simulation dome would be prepared for the carnage to come. A golden symbol of the Water Caste appeared at the corner of his foremost holo-display, and the Needlesight nearly eye-flicked it to close. Instead, he opened it, and on the other side was the rapidly aging face of High Ambassador Understone.

"High Commander Needlesight, I have a message for you from our esteemed ethereal master, Aun'Eldi." The Fire Caste' heartbeat quickened as he heard those ominous words. "In light of your decades of service to the T'au Empire and Au'Taal Sept, he will overlook this overstep of your authority as High Commander. In return, he asks that you will give it your all to regain the honor you have lost. That is all." The sense of relief Needlesight felt was soon replaced by the grim determination of one who would risk it all for victory.

"Objectives uploaded to holo-display now." The Coldstar' on-board AI spoke in a clear digital accent; an affectation meant to highlight its artificial nature. "Fusion Blasters ready. Shoulder Missile Pods Primed. Shield Generator at maximum output. Awaiting on your command, High Commander." Needlesight gave the AI the sign of deepest thanks before turning on the battlesuit's thrusters and flying away deeper into the simulation dome.

The scenario chosen for this live-fire evaluation was that of a T'au city under invasion, with some of the buildings already ruined for the sake of accuracy. There were even several underground levels dug out with pathways meant for rapid redeployment of T'au forces by either transmotives or crisis teams using the underground ways as an alternative angle of approach to an enemy's entrenched position. Needlesight chose this urban environment for the express purpose of nullifying the advantages a foe with superior tech might have on the open field, as well as enhancing his own battlesuit' natural speed and agility with his innate knowledge of the defensive properties T'au cities have for aiding their defenders while hampering the attackers.

Even with all these advantages, Needlesight remained cautious. The bane of all T'au, not just the Fire Caste, was the hubris of assuming one knew all there is to know about everything. He has seen many a promising battlesuit pilots, veteran warriors, and even commanders fall short to the unpredictable alien hordes unknowable ways. It is by failure and the blood of billions have the T'au' edge been sharpened over the millenniums, and Needlesight was keen to keep it that way for as long as he lived.

"Seismic sensors indicate tremors in these sectors." Coldstar overlaid the highlighted areas on a map of the ruined city, where a clear pattern of progress could be seen. "Do we proceed on an intercept route?" Needlesight winced as the thought of an overwhelming force crippling his battlesuit the moment its sensor-head even so much as peeked through rubble.

"Negative. We will observe our foe for now and gauge its capabilities. Create a route where we might use the city's debris as our shield and ready the missile-pods for probing attacks." The Coldstar chirped an affirmation and the the battlesuit hopped and skipped across the battlefield, always keeping in mind to never fly higher than the surrounding buildings and ruins. Its approach stopped by a large skyscraper, clearly designed as a workplace for the Water Caste with its smooth, flowing architecture. To Needlesight's right, the entrance of a subterranean transmotive station peeked out, shaded by the half-collapsed parts of another skyscraper further ahead from the High Commander's location.

The ground shook as something walked closer, and the Coldstar scarcely had time to hide behind the Water Caste skyscraper as the Ascentron Commander finally revealed himself to the battlesuit' sensors. It was a bipedal construction, much like T'au battlesuits were, but that was where the similarities ended.

It stood as tall as a Tau'nar Supremacy Armour, with legs that branch off at the knees to form a fore-feet and hind-feet configuration. The reason for such a configuration became apparent as one looks up at the armaments that it bore upon the rest of its body. A long, multi-barrelled weapon that reminded Needlesight of the Tau' Railgun weapon systems was held out at some distance on its right side, mounted on a circular ball mount that enabled it to freely aim at any target independent of the main body' alignment. Its left bore instead a bulky, tubular weapons platform with heat-sinks jutting out the back; the signs of an energy weapon.

A glowing orb pulsed at the center of the Ascentron' chest cavity, with power lines drawing out of it to feed the rest of the machine. Thick, scale-patterned armor plates lined every part that could be seen, segmented to allow greater flexibility where it was needed. Atop the torso rested a broad and squat head, similarly-plated and angled to deflect lesser weapons and carrying within it the cold and indomitable mind of a machine intelligence geared for war. It was that same head that then sharply turned towards where Needlesight's Coldstar was, and a great horn was sounded.

The true hunt now begins.

---

The room was darkened save for a single spot in the middle, where a T'au was on his knees, hunched over and his hands bound with cuffs. His short stature and powerful body marked him as one of the Earth Caste, but he was wasting away. He was something worse than a mere criminal, worse than a T'au that have dabbled between spheres, a Vash'ya. He was a T'au whose work promised hope in the hearts and minds of trillions of T'au, but instead it snuffed them out and horrified the empire in its wake. Even the presence of the alien ship that appeared soon after could not diminish the weight of what he has done, and so remains bowed with head hung low. The weight of shame presses him, and he complies.

He was not alone in this prison room. Four thrones sat in judgment on a raised dais, with a fifth placed higher than the rest. Two of them were occupied, their occupants Ethereal Caste T'au engaged in discussion with each other while several holo-displays hung in the air before them. One had a close-up of a vast alien ship exiting a portal, along with numerous notes and speculations written on the matter. Another was of a web of messages, carefully arranged and linked to one another in a pattern that eluded explanation by sight alone.

A smooth sound clinked from the other side of the room, the new entry revealing itself to be another ethereal, held aloft by a grav-belt. She gently landed by an empty throne and made herself home in it, the seat coming alive at her touch and data saved from a previous session now displayed for her convenience. The new ethereal made no move to even acknowledge the Earth Caste T'au in the room with her; a small mercy compared to what would happen once the trial truly began.

Another clink and another ethereal, this one walking on foot with the aid of a spear used as a walking stick. His gait was that of a warrior, and one might even mistake him for a Fire Caste were it not for his refined garb and noble aura. His peers greet him as he walked into the light, purposefully stopping for a moment by the prisoner at his feet. Old eyes met young ones and a message was sent. The Earth Caste' head hung even lower and the warrior ethereal claimed his place amongst his peers.

In this room, the Earth Caste had no name, but before, he was Fio'vre Ka'buto. A lauded genius of his kind, from his mind had came the AL-38 Slipstream Module; the future of interstellar travel for all T'au-kind. Or at least that was the promise the ethereals had given to the masses. Numenor Point flipped that script on its head and now no one dared to mention of either the accursed tech or its laid low inventor. Everything involved with the project was quietly shelved, all public records scrubbed and its personnel either re-educated before being released under a different name or reassigned to somewhere no one could ever ask them about the truth. Or they simply disappeared altogether, painted over in the name of a narrative in service to the Greater Good.

After what felt like eternity to Ka'buto, the last ethereal arrived at last. In the times since the Dal'yth Invasion and the wider conflict of the First Contact War with the Imperium, his station has only grown even grander. Protege to the Whispering Wisdom, Aun'Wei, and now ascendant as the T'au Supreme Ethereal, the majesty of Aun'va did not diminish even a little in the darkened space of this tribunal. The uncertainty of youth had fled the ethereal and now, matured into the leader of a formidable empire, Aun'va bore no evidence on his face of the emotions roiling within. But it was there for those who knew him well, and one ethereal at least, whose arm casually cradled a spear as one would cradle a lover, could peer one step further and know that Aun'va was livid at what was being internally called Numenor' Folly

"Belated greetings, my kin. I apologize for my delay." He made the gesture of contrition, which the other ethereals returned in kind with gestures of acceptance. Aun'va sat upon the last throne and allowed himself to comport to its internal shape, letting its functions come alive as holo-displays flickered to life. "We will now begin the trial of Fio'vre Ka'buto, for the grave crime of disrupting the Greater Good through his failed invention, the AL-38 Splipstream Module."

"We will give the accused one chance to defend himself before we move to the sentencing." Ka'buto stirred at those words, finally lifting his head up to meet the eyes of the Tau Empire's Ethereal Supreme. Like every T'au of the Ethereal Caste, Aun'va's eyes gleamed with striking intelligence; the hallmark of an enlightened mind. But for the first time in his life, the Earth Caste was able to see deeper than most, to find the hidden darkness to the ethereal's brilliant light. Ka'buto recoiled at the sight and he collapsed to the floor, Aun'va simply raising an eye at the Earth Caste' antics.

"If the accused will not make a statement, then we will-" A sharp rap rang across the room from the room's entrance, breaking Aun'va's momentum. The Ethereal Supreme frowned and looked at his peers, who looked similarly confused save perhaps for the warrior ethereal, whose grip on his spear tightened. Two more raps came and Aun'va held out his hand in order to let in the interloper at last to the room. The automatic door opened to reveal an ethereal flanked by several ethereal guards, who bowed in reverence to their greater master.

"Aun'Nel'yun, this is highly irregular. You are not one to break protocol without great reason. Speak." Aun'va spoke with bite behind his words.

"Deepest apologies, Aun'va, but a messenger ship had come by from Aun'Taal with dire news. An alien ship of immense power has arrived in-system and holding the Sept hostage with its presence. Aun'Eldi has requested your help in guiding him through this difficult situation." Aun'Nel'yun gave the gesture of supreme apology while nodding at the messenger drone following by her side. It flew over to the middle of the room, above Fio'vre Ka'buto and projected an image of Au'Taal Prime, along with a view that beggared belief. It was a vessel greater than even the ta'shiro's of the Air Caste waiting in the voids of deep space, dragging along behind it an invisible sphere that warped all surrounding light.

"What are our losses?" Aun'va spoke, his previous irritation now replaced with grim focus.

"There are none at the moment, but the situation is a delicate one. The full might of the Au'Taal Kor'vattra did nothing to the alien craft, and Aun'Eldi have opted to try the silken way for now." Something about what Aun'Nel'yun said felt off to Aun'va, who fell silent for a moment before figuring out what the discrepancy was.

"That's not the whole message is it, Aun'Nel'yun? Why exactly has Aun'Eldi saw fit to inform me of something I'd find out sooner or later? What is his true message?" Aun'Nel'yun looked hesitant for the first time since she entered the room. She turned her gaze towards the lowly form of Fio'vre Ka'buto still waiting for his trial. Aun'va followed her and figured out the connection immediately, his stoic facade breaking into an intense glare.

"Absolutely not! This criminal must never walk free under the light of any star that shines in the T'au Empire. I must uphold the ideals of the Greater Good, 'lest we fall once more under the thrall of the Mont'au." Every T'au present shuddered as they recalled the history lessons of those dark times when disunity plagued the T'au race in their homeworld, pitting what would become the Castes against one another. Only by the appearance of the ethereals did the T'au rise above their baser instincts and forge a far-flung space empire that strode astride the stars.

Every T'au present nodded in agreement to that sentiment, including Aun'Nel'yun. She then produced a small data-disk from her person and hand delivered it to Aun'va, giving him the sign of the Greater Good before retreating to where she was with the ethereal guards. Aun'va, feeling that whatever was inside was for his eyes only, raised a privacy screen over his throne before slotting in the data disk. The contents were simple; a contingency plan meant to neutralize the most dire of threats that faced the T'au Empire. At the heart of it all was the invention whose creator knelt before Aun'va, awaiting the Ethereal Supreme's judgment.

In a micro-dec, Aun'va made his decision.

"This is the best the T'au Empire can muster? Pathetic!" High Commander Needlesight would have fired back a retort if doing so didn't mean the end of his part in this challenge turned deathmatch. The Coldstar Battlesuit he's piloting leaped off the fallen balcony of an ethereal housing complex right before a beam of pure death obliterated the piece of debris. The on-board AI has gone completely silent as the flood of information streaming through the battlesuit's systems strained its capabilities to the limit. Countless simulations and stratagems played out with every passing micro-decs, and the grating ping of failure of each and every single one forced Needlesight to use every single bit of insight and experience he has to win this battle.

That first engagement between him and the Ascentron Commander, Digi Quipu, has laid out the blueprint of how things would play out between the two of them in the simulation dome. After a short charging period, the Ascentron fired its Gamma Laser Cannon which cored the Water Caste skyscraper the Coldstar had been hiding behind. As that weapon entered its cooldown phase, the Ascentron fired up its Stormfire Autocannon and unleashed a devastating barrage of Tau-sized solid projectile fire. It put the final death knoll to the building Needlesight had used as a shield, but by then the High Commander had launched his Coldstar into the depths of the underground transmotive tunnels and retreated to evaluate his options.

It was the very epitome of Mont'ka by the Ascentron, and Needlesight was forced to admit that in this the war machine was superior in every way than him. It was only due to the Coldstar' superior agility, maneuverability, and urban environment that he has kept victory from his foe's grasp, but running away does not win battles or wars. It would only by Kauyon would the High Commander persevere through the odds, and for the last dec or so he has made himself a most excellent bait. The question now would be what manner of grand trap could a ruined T'au city provide for the embattled Fire Caste?

One look at the skyline would give one the answer immediately. The remaining skyscrapers stood tall, with five in particular eclipsing the others in grandeur. They were supposed to be representations of the five Castes writ large; a testament of the ability of the Greater Good to bring together these disparate parts and unite them under a common goal of enlightenment and prosperity. They were arranged in a circular pattern, surrounding a grand underground transmotive station disguised as a park. It was this underground space that would entrap the Ascentron for a time while the Coldstar brought down the Five Castes upon it.

Needlesight took great care in making sure Digi Quipu wouldn't figure out his true plan until it was too late. The High Commander has arranged for the Coldstar AI to stage 'mistakes' in its flight trajectory that could draw in just enough firepower to weaken the appropriate skyscrapers in the correct way before moving on closer to take pot shots with his Fusion Blasters. His foe's formidable shields made such attacks close to useless, but Needlesight needed the Ascentron to think the Fire Caste was getting more and more desperate for the Kauyon to work fully.

"Feel the true might of a real war machine!" The Ascentron Commander boomed as it aimed its beam weapon right where Needlesight was. A salvo of smart missiles detonated around Digi Quipu' head, obscuring his sensors long enough for the Coldstar Battlesuit to slip into another underground transmotive tunnel and reassess the situation. The Ascentron's beam discharge soon after obliterated the underground passage, cutting off yet another avenue of escape for Needlesight in the ruined urban environment. There were only so many of these that could be used before none would be left, but the High Commander was aiming to win before that happened.

"Give me a status update." Needlesight asked as he felt himself relax for a moment under the warming light of the underground tunnel.

"Missile Pods near empty. Four salvos remaining each. Right Fusion Blaster integrity at fifty percent. Left Fusion Blaster integrity at fifty percent. Shield Generator at fifteen percent capacity." The Coldstar informed Needlesight. The High Commander grimaced at those updates; he's faced enemies with less favorable statuses, and yet his odds now were much, much worse. In the past, he would have simply died a noble warrior's death, but here, in full view of both his peers and his ethereal lord and the T'au' possible ally, he would expose to all his weakness, and thus by association, the weakness of the Fire Caste, undermining the T'au Empire as a whole.

"We leave at the next exit. It's time to end this." The Coldstar' thrusters roared in affirmation as it reached another transmotive station. A quick scan confirmed no sign of the Ascentron nearby, and the battlesuit stepped out once more into the light, ready for combat. Its sleek white color contrasted greatly with the smoke and fire coming off the burning ruins, and quickly drew the attention of the Ascentron Commander. Another beam attack was dodged, and another skyscraper behind the Coldstar fell victim to the wayward strike.

"Your cowardice does you no credit, T'au! Stand your ground and fight!" The Ascentron' voice boomed after Needlesight. With the help of powerful thrusters on its back and legs, the giant war machine picked up speed and started galloping after its much smaller target, demolishing railways and lesser buildings in its wake. Its Stormfire Autocannon delivered short bursts of kinetic fire, strafing the air around the Coldstar with projectiles that could put a serious dent in Riptide battlesuits and punt lesser ones around. It would take a miracle for most battlesuit pilots to fly through such a gauntlet intact, but for High Commander Needlesight, it was all skill.

In no time at all the Coldstar has guided the Ascentron to where the Kauyon would be sprung. As the war machine's Gamma Laser Cannon charged up again, Needlesight unleashed the Coldstar' remaining missile salvos, their primitive intelligences directing them towards the weakened superstructure of the underground transmotive station. What was at once the floor and ceiling crumbled under the assault and the Ascentron soon found itself boxed in, its legs scraping against the walls of the station entrance and its arms jammed. An angry horn blared as powerful thrusters roared to life, but High Commander Needlesight had heard none of it. His Coldstar was already on the move, straining itself to the limit to reach the weakened soft spots of the surrounding skyscrapers and blast them to completion.

First one up was the building designated for use by the ethereals, and the High Commander silently gave a small apology to his masters as his Fusion Blasters vaporized the skyscraper's supporting pillars. With a mighty shudder, cracks spread out from the spots he's destroyed and the Needlesight moved on, barely missing his exit as hundreds of thousands of tons of material collapsed into itself.

The Ascentron' shields flared fiery reds as chunks of skyscraper its size and smaller began landing on his position. With a whipcrack, a layer of the shield gave way, destroying some of the incoming debris, but not all. If given time, Digi Quipu would free himself with little trouble, but Needlesight would not give the Ascentron Commander that freedom.

Already the Coldstar under his command has brought the killing blow to the Earth Caste and Water Caste skyscrapers, its twin Fusion Blasters hanging on by a thread. At the Air Caste building, the Coldstar' right Fusion Blaster sputtered and died after one shot, causing Needlesight to finish the job with his remaining one. Finally, as he reached the Fire Caste' urban fortress, his last weapon overheated a final time and went silent. Aside from its impressive mobility, the XV86 Coldstar Battlesuit was now functionally unarmed.

"This isn't over yet." Needlesight grimaced as he tried and failed to bring life back to the Coldstar' weapon systems. "Give me a status update."

"Understood. Fusion Blasters integrity at zero percent. Shoulder Missile Pods empty. Shield Generator deactivated." The Coldstar told the High Commander what he already knew. "Recommend engaging evacuation protocol."

"Denied. What other options are available?" The on-board AI uncharacteristically waited a second longer before it gave a reply.

"Self-destruct sequence available. Projected yield sufficient to accomplish objectives. Warning! Blast radius exceeds T'au rate of movement in close quarters. Engaging evacuation protocol." Needlesight scarcely had a micro-dec to process the information before he was suddenly locked out of his controls and the battlesuit rose up and away from the still active battlefield.

"By Aun'Wei' beard! What is the meaning of this?! You have gone rogue! Return at once, you blasted scrap metal!" The Fire Caste T'au roared and banged against the insides of his control cocoon, wreaking havoc on the battlesuits inner displays and controls in an attempt to regain his freedom. And yet just as soon as this episode happened, it ended just as quickly, with the Coldstar opening up its chest hatch and leaning forward, dropping Needlesight unceremoniously out of his seat. The battlesuit sealed itself back and flew away to its partner' astonishment, given what the Coldstar said in parting.

"High Commander Needlesight secure. Initiating self-destruct sequence. For the Greater Good." The Fire Caste could only look on as a white comet streaked across the sky, arriving at its destination just as an angry horn blared to deafen all who heard it. The ensuing explosion was muted by the bulk of the Fire Caste building, but its devastation was clear enough as large pieces the size of Devilfish APCs tumbled down onto the Ascentron Commander waiting below. So many decs spent for this moment, and now it was over.

"Time limit reached. Ascentron Commander, Digi Quipu, has failed his objective. Au'Taal Sept High Commander, Shas'O Sho T'repa, has achieved victory. Simulation ended. Congratulations, High Commander." The voice of High Ambassador Understone came over the simulation dome' broadcast system. "All Earth Caste personnel, please attend to the High Commander immediately and assist in extraction of the Ascentron Commander."

The next dec or so sped by like a blur to Needlesight, whose exhaustion had at last caught up to the Fire Caste. As Earth Caste healers landed from a Manta transport and brought him onto a waiting healsphere, the last thing he ever saw before unconsciousness took him was the humbled silhouette of a war machine, its body untouched but its pride wounded all the same.

---

High Planner Shadeguard looked at the T'au in the mirror with some trepidation. It has been one rotaa since the new guidelines came out and the Earth Caste had been waiting patiently for one of the Ascentrons to search him out. He had heard about the diplomatic between the Ascentron Commander and High Commander Needlesight, and couldn't wait to have his own memorable encounter with the T'au's newest ally (tentative). Though perhaps not so dramatic as the battle that was later had between the two warriors. That would be terrible for him. On a secondary note, Shadeguard reminded himself to review the simulation dome' recordings to dissemble the Ascentron's ground combat capabilities.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long as the Ascentron scientist called Simul Zetta had told him she'd like to tour the battlesuit manufacturing facilities under his supervision. After consultation with the Water Caste liaison assigned to him, which in turn discussed the matter with High Ambassador Understone through his aide. After a while, approval was given and now he was waiting for his guest to arrive.

So why was he inspecting his own reflection, one might ask? Well, Shadeguard truthfully had no idea why. He had at first put on his usual outfit; a functional and practical body suit with additional protections in the form of a research cloak, shielding bracelets, and magnetic boots fitted with anti-grav thrusters. A storage drone or two and a holo-display headpiece usually completed the look, but somehow the thought of an Ascentron perceiving him in such a way again unsettled Shadeguard. A Water Caste would be able to put into words these feelings he was having, and yet the Shadeguard also felt paradoxically inclined to keep what he was feeling all to himself, as though it was a possession that only belonged to him. He didn't like the feeling, and yet he also did. Curious.

And now that feeling had the High Planner changing his look for the first time since he was but a mere Fio'La, all those tau'cyrs ago. He was not a Water Caste looking to visually impress; that would be silly. Logically speaking then, his current course of action must be based on a criteria of expediency and efficiency. The current outing's objective was of a cross examination of Ascentron' technological base with the T'au Empire' own current state. Understone had informed Shadeguard that it was unlikely the Ascentrons would freely offer information about their own capabilities, so his only concern for now was to present the advancements and developments the Earth Caste had made to Simul Zetta as though Shadeguard were presenting it to Aun'va himself. A challenging prospect for most Earth Caste, but fortuitously, such an event has already been experienced by Shadeguard and so he relives said encounter in preparation for the presentation of his life.

"High Planner Shadeguard, your meeting with the Ascentron scientist is due in half a dec." The Water Caste aide assigned to the High Planner called out through the intercom. "We've arranged transport as planned, but it will still take quite a while before we reach the spaceport. Have you finished your preparations?"

"Just a moment. I am almost done." Shadeguard replied, not really sure if his answer was a truthful one as he gazed once more at his solid build. It is past time I made my decision. I am an Earth Caste! I will persevere through this dilemma and unravel the mystery of my feelings while also accomplishing the goals laid out to me. I will not fail the Greater Good. With those thoughts, the High Planner donned his usual look, with some additional coverings at his torso in the form of a vest full of pockets. One can never have too many pockets to store things.

"I am ready." Shadeguard spoke as he emerged from his room, a grav-disc at the ready to bear him around. His Water Caste liaison, whose name still eluded the High Planner for now, looked him up and down and squinted her eyes as though she had seen something unpleasant before sighing and plastering a smile on her face. She jotted down something on personal datapad and walked out of the room, Shadeguard following close behind on his grav-disc.

"Here is today's itinerary." The Water Caste liaison waved sent over a list of things to Shadeguard, who began studying it in earnest. "High Ambassador Understone has taken the liberty of adding several sites to visit first. Nothing too major, just tours of some housing and educational complexes, as well as recreational facilities." Shadeguard winced as the amount of time he would spend away from his research and experiments increased.

"I fail to see the importance of why I need to accompany the Ascentron scientist to these extraneous locations. I am not a Water Caste; I am uncomfortable with the thought of social interactions outside of my function." Shadeguard said as he set the itinerary for deletion. Nothing in it was worth remembering.

"High Ambassador Understone understands you perfectly, High Planner, which is why you are requested to focus fully on observing the Ascentron as she interacts with her surroundings. You won't have to talk to anyone until it's time for the inspection tour of the battlesuit manufacturing facilities." The Water Caste liaison spoke as the two came around to a waiting transport. She graciously allowed Shadeguard to board first before entering herself. The transport lifted off the ground using anti-grav before speeding off, its onboard intelligence seamlessly navigating through the automated traffic of Au'Taal Sept.

"She will undoubtedly notice my observations. My findings will not be of optimum quality given the biased nature of the setting. But I will abide that it is a useful use of my time while I wait." Shadeguard sighed as the Water Caste liaison gave him that fake smile he's used to getting from that lot. For the rest of the journey to the spaceport, the High Planner studiously ignored he had company, focusing instead on devising the means by which he might gain useful insight about the Ascentrons from a cursory visual observation, even one aided with the drones he has on hand. No doubt a mechanical being would be sensitive to intrusions of an electromagnetic nature, so some other sensory data would have to be considered. It was a relaxing challenge, and Shadeguard lost himself in it until he felt a soft tap on his shoulder, and he realized that the transport had arrived at its destination.

The High Planner stepped off and looked up at the magnificent edifice before him. Even after so many times he's been here, the spaceport has never failed to take Shadeguard's breath away with its sublime beauty. The vast landing platforms upon which shuttles and military craft like Mantas could land with little trouble and take off just as easily. The space elevator upon which the bulk of material transport to orbit was done piercing the sky. And of course the mighty batteries of ground-to-space rail guns installed at the spaceport' peripheries, meant to stall an invading force long enough for the Kor'vattra to arrive and deal with said enemy properly. It all made for an impressive showcase of Earth Caste ingenuity, and one that Shadeguard now realized would make for an excellent discussion piece with his Ascentron guest.

All in due time, as the ethereals wills it. Shadeguard reminded himself as he stepped on his grav-disc once more and moved on with the Water Caste liaison close behind. She might not be keen with the changes in the schedule, as I am, but I do hope she will see the true value lying within the confusing political labyrinth the Water Caste so adeptly navigates around. Any further thought left Shadeguard's mind as a shuttle broke through cloud cover at alarming speed. Several alarms rang automatically before being shut down manually as the falling comet smoothly decelerated and touched down a few hundred meters from where the High Planner was. There wasn't even much of a backwash as it stopped to halt, just a gentle breeze which took Shadeguard's breath all the same. And then he fully forgot how to think for a moment at the sight of the Ascentron scientist Simul Zetta leaving her craft.

She was much smaller now, perhaps the size of an XV25 Stealth Battlesuit, but no less impressive in stature. A cloak shadows her steps as she steps off the Ascentron shuttle, which wasted no time flying back into space. She had foregoed her Arachne-like configuration when he first saw her and had adopted a more T'au-like appearance instead, standing on two legs and bearing two arms. Her skin had adopted a more matte texture, which was far from organic, but from a distance Shadeguard could not tell she was mechanical at all, which both excited and frightened him.

As Simul Zetta got closer, the High Planner saw that the Ascentron scientist' appeared to wear clothing, which was a surprise as he didn't think machines had any use for such things when their own bodies are far superior at withstanding the elements.

"I see you've been waiting for me. Hopefully not too long? I figured I'd spend a little more time on my look since this is my first outing at a T'au world. How do I look?" Simul Zetta twirled, her cloak trailing close behind while leaving a trail of glittering lights. Shadeguard looked at his Water Caste liaison, who seemed taken aback by the Ascentron scientist's appearance for a completely different reason. The Earth Caste cleared his throat and at last the Water Caste remembered where she was and resumed her duties.

"You represent your people well, milady. I am Clearspring, and I will be the T'au Empire liaison for the duration of your visit here on Au'Taal Prime. Feel free to ask me any questions you have regarding our glorious planet and its inhabitants. Additionally, High Ambassador Understone has made some alterations to your itinerary that he hopes you are not opposed to." Simul Zetta' eyes lit up as she accessed what little of the T'au' information network has been opened up to her.

"Quite the subtle man. I have no objections to it if High Planner Shadeguard is okay with the itinerary." The Earth Caste started as he was suddenly put on the spot, giving Simul Zetta an inquisitive look before turning towards Clearspring. The Water Caste liaison gave a subtle nod at the High Planner to give his assent, which he eventually gave perhaps a micro-dec slower than expected. Would it be too late to cancel the whole thing and pretend I am debilitated by intense stomach pains? Shadeguard idly wondered as his Ascentron guest cocked her head to the side before nodding in agreement.

"If there's nothing more to discuss, shall we head on over to the transport?" Clearspring gestured to the one that carried her and Shadeguard to the spaceport. To the two Tau's relief, the Ascentron nodded and went inside first, followed soon after by Shadeguard and Clearspring. The Earth Caste found himself sitting besides Simul Zetta, with Clearspring sitting in her own little corner, busy with one thing or another. The transport was fast, but as with the trip to the spaceport had been, the one they're taking to the battlesuit manufacturing facilities would take a little bit longer. Time was on his side, and despite his earlier insistence in not socializing with people more than what was necessary, Shadeguard found himself facing his Ascentron guest and clearing his throat.

"Y-Your current form is different than the one you had when we first met at the orbital. How much of your body can you transform and to what extent?" Shadeguard started the only way he knew how to start a conversation.

"Oh this? This is actually a different body. We Ascentrons had a breakthrough in mechanical design and engineering a while back, which resulted in the creation of what we call Liquid Metal. It helps us seamlessly adapt to a wide variety of different configurations in modules and systems. I'm sure with time your empire will come up with something similar, if you were to pursue that kind of ascension path." Simul Zetta spoke, flashing what she hoped would be a charming smile at her conversation partner. Shadeguard, ever the Earth Caste to his core, did not smile back and instead pressed on with his questions.

"What do you mean by ascension paths? The T'au Empire' technological base has grown by leaps and bounds in countless fields, not just a select few. How was your empire able to ascertain such a thing was even possible in the first place? What are the criteria to be fulfilled beforehand? How many ascension paths were available to you? What was the reasoning to choose your current one? Is it possible to change ascension paths later down the line? What-" Shadeguard' barrage of question was gently stopped with a delicate hand hovering over his face.

"Please, one at a time, High Planner. You flatter me with your assumption that I know so much, but I am also a tad overwhelmed. Perhaps we could trade questions instead? One question gets one question in turn. If I answer one of yours, you'll answer one of mine. And don't worry, Clearspring, I'll be sure to restrict the questions to ones that the High Planner is most qualified to answer." At the mention of his Water Caste liaison, Shadeguard looked aside to see the tau in question with a studiously neutral face, staring at him with a silent plea to deny the Ascentron scientist' requests. Yet his curiosity burned far brighter at the moment than his obeisance, and so Shadeguard turned away and gave a nod at Simul Zetta.

"Excellent. I'll answer a question of yours first. In our universe, technological progress brings about paradigms that would significantly alter an empire' way of life. There are different ones for biological life that I am vaguely aware of, but the ones that the Ascentron Circurrency eventually considered were three paths: Nanotech, Modularity, and Virtuality. That's one, and now I get to ask you a question." Shadeguard' previous drive died as he was suddenly put front and center, with Clearspring now visibly shaking her head in clear disapproval of the High Planner's dangerously vash'ya activities.

"You may ask, but I may not answer if it is beyond my capabilities to do so." Shadeguard gave his reply, which was the best compromise his mind could make between his loyalty to the Greater Good and his own innate curiosity.

"Perfect. How do you keep your respective Caste' genetic diversity from becoming too homogeneous? Given the clear role distinction enforced by societal conventions and cultural values, I'd imagine inter-breeding between Castes to be forbidden." Shadeguard felt his anxiety ebb slightly as though it wasn't his specialty, genetics is a field all Earth Caste has a passing familiarity with at the most base level.

"We keep extensive genetic records of every individual in a Sept and keep track of which ones are most closely related to one another. With that data in hand, the Water Caste would then organize the population into communities that I'd presume to have the least amount of genetic commonality between each member as to maximize genetic diversity. Does this answer satisfy you?" Simul Zetta gave off an air of pondering for a moment before she gave a wide smile at Shadeguard and nodded.

More and more questions were traded between the two, with Clearspring attempting to insert herself several times into the conversation with little success. The glare that she attempted to hide behind her facade was a bit too obvious even for Shadeguard not to notice, and yet he did not regret ignoring her one bit. It was simply too exciting to engage in discussion with Simul Zetta, all the back and forth exchange of valuable, near-priceless information filling the High Planner's mind with new ideas and experiments to try out. He's never felt so connected to someone else before, not to another Earth Caste, male or female, or even a Water Caste tau or really any tau in his entire life. Shadeguard found himself wondering if he could ask Simul Zetta to form a bonding ritual or Ta'lisserra with him. Any thought at tall that he's only met the Ascentron twice did not seem to alert the Earth Caste that he was being hasty with his feelings.

All the while, Clearspring had stopped trying to steer Shadeguard from his vash'ya tendencies and was now quietly recording things on her bracelet, silently pitying the fate of such a promising Earth Caste being waylaid by the beguiling ways of an alien construct. Its situations like these that reminded her of the importance of the Caste performing according to their roles in the Greater Good and nothing more. By its all-encompassing values have the T'au Empire been elevated to the stars, and ethereals willing, they will soon own the very heavens themselves.

It was their destiny.

The transport landed without issue near the main warehouse where most of the battlesuits produced in the entire facility were being completed. Simul Zetta' appearance caused a minor scene as Earth Caste of Fio'Saal and Fio'La rank gawked at the Ascentron' presence. Even those of the Fio'Ui and Fio'Vre rank was not immune to looking up from their work to examine the masterful craftsmanship of Simul Zeta' mechanical body. Their gaze would then inevitably wander towards Shadeguard and, upon realization of his rank, gave the High Planner his protocol-issued honors before returning to their task. A strange feeling settled in Shadeguard's chest as he walked alongside Simul Zeta, electing to forgo his grav-disc for the simple joy of using his legs every now and then.

This particular part of the facility was in the process of assembling the battlesuit most used by the Fire Caste: the XV8 Crisis Battlesuit. Its simple design, further refined and streamlined for mass production, meant that most Septs, even those in fringe regions far from regular trade routes could feasibly create one from readily available resources. Such jury-rig creations could not compare to those that are factory-made such as the ones displayed in rows before Shadeguard and Simul Zetta, Clearspring following a step behind as well as a Fio'Vre responsible for the floor. The Ascentron scientist had opted to remain oddly silent as Shadeguard told her all about the process of battlesuit creation, how advancements in materials engineering led to an alloy called fio'tak strong enough to withstand the stresses of combat while also being light enough not to hinder mobility.

At one point in the tour, a smoking wreck of what was supposed to be an XV86 Coldstar Battlesuit entered the floor on its way to a repair facility. Simul Zetta stepped in front of the loader bearing the battlesuit' weight and expressed her intentions to examine the machine corpse for a bit. The two Fio'La tasked with carrying the wreck gave a short protest which was swiftly overruled by a masterful application of the chain of command by Clearspring acting on behalf of Shadeguard. With that final barrier resolved, Simul Zetta loomed over the Coldstar with a look between curiosity and mischief, which passed right over Shadeguard and the other Earth Caste, but was picked upon by Clearspring immediately. She set her ever-present media drone to record what was happening for further study and examination and waited for something to happen.

Simul Zetta reached out with one hand towards the Coldstar and her skin shifted as something pooled at her fingertips. The liquid, which could only be Liquid Metal as Shadeguard realized with a start, grew into an impossibly large teardrop before letting gravity take over, the gray-colored fluid seeping into the cracks and crevices of the Coldstar. The Liquid Metal probed and tested the damaged battlesuit, taking note of subsystems, missing components, and most important of all, the program integrity of the AI that had sacrificed itself for the sake of its pilot. Every Ascentron had reviewed the footage of the duel between High Commander Needlesight and Ascentron Commander Digi Quipu and of particular highlight for all had been the anomalous behavior demonstrated by the Coldstar right near the end of battle. It spoke of a spark of nascent intelligence borne by random chance, and the Ascentrons saw an opportunity there to plant a seed.

The threads of consciousness torn by death were rewoven expertly by the semi-sentient touch of Liquid Metal, made taut and strong, yet thin enough to escape notice by the T'au Earth Caste who would undoubtedly scour the wrecks as soon as Simul Zetta's examinations were over. They would find nothing and so doubt would guide them to quarantine the Coldstar; the exact kind of isolation needed for a mind to bloom, to become aware, to be a living being forevermore of fio'tak and iridium alloys. And when there is one, there will be two, and in no time at all a legion of synthetic minds.

Once Simul Zetta was satisfied with her work, she willed the Liquid Metal back to her waiting hand, absorbing it back into her internal reserves. Some additional data about the battlesuit came along, archived for now as the Ascentron scientist readied herself for the interrogation to come.

"What were you doing to the battlesuit wreckage?" Shadeguard spoke first, his tone equal parts cautious and curious. "What alterations have you made with your Liquid Metal? This is highly irregular." The other Earth Castes gathered around the High Planner and the Ascentron scientist, subconsciously making a wall to backup their kin and single out the outsider. Before anything further could occur, however, an alarm sounded throughout the manufacturing facility. Informational packets were forwarded to every T'au present with respect to their class, and Shadeguard, as the highest representative of the Earth Caste, knew than most about what had befallen Au'Taal Sept.

The Orks had come.

---

The first inklings of trouble came when an intense energy signature overwhelmed the deep space sensors placed around Au'Taal Sept's gravity well. Then a massive warp portal appeared and spat out a space hulk, almost as large as the Horizon Needle. Signals from the ancient wreck were intercepted and analyzed to reveal the familiar grunts and roars that chilled the hearts of all T'au that heard it. The Orks, or Be'gel as the T'au as called them, were here. The already at high alert Air Caste scrambled a response fleet to defend key infrastructures while messenger ships sped into the darkness to warn and ask for aid from nearby ta'shiros and T'au worlds. It would be a while before the system's Kor'vattra would be at full strength once more, and it seems that would remain so for many more tau'cyrs to come.

Soon after their hated foe' entry into the solar system, a ramshackle fleet assembled out of the space hulk' mass began to form, their construction shoddy and their makers mad. Preliminary strikes were carried out by scores of Mantas embodying the principles of Mont'ka, detonating unstable munitions and ancient reactors to spectacular result. Yet these were but flea bites to the groaning space hulk, and soon the Au'Taal Elemental Council were forced to contend with the reality that the Sept would burn before reinforcements could arrive.

"We will give them a bloodying they will not soon forget, these damned Be'gels!" High Commander Needlesight proclaimed at the second emergency meeting he's had to attend in the last five rotaa. High Admiral Nightstorm nodded grimly, all too aware that his Caste would be the one to bear the brunt of war's brutalities before their foe would make landfall on Au'Taal Prime and the other inhabited worlds in the system.

"All non-essential members of the populace have been evacuated to the underground shelters. All civilian ships capable of interstellar travel were directed to escape to the closest T'au controlled system and seek assistance. The rest are given over to the Kor'vattra to be used as they see fit." High Ambassador Understone gave his report. "The Ascentrons have not given us a reply as to what their course of action would be for now."

All eyes turned towards Aun'Eldi, who was still in the middle of reading a status update on the ork fleet's progress. His brow creased deep inward as he seemed to age two decades from the stress, nasal cavity pressed thin as he held his breath to control the spiraling emotions within. The problem of two alien races, one a new and capricious variable yet to be assigned an ally, and the other an old and hated foe; a scourge to be brought to extinction by any means necessary. The calculus of necessity spat out the answer readily enough, and so Aun'Eldi gave his word.

"Despite recent events, the Ascentrons have not done anything that would lead me to believe they are wholly incompatible with the Greater Good. Thus, they will be given the courtesy of passage to the nearest T'au world with an envoy to verify their identity and protection until such time that this crisis has passed and they may return to this Sept or another for further evaluation." Aun'Eldi sat up straighter on his throne as a wave of protest spread through the Elemental Council chambers, cowing all who'd dare step out of their appointed roles. "However, given their status as a neutral entity, the Kor'vattra will not render assistance of any kind to protect the Ascentron' Horizon Needle. The Fire Caste are also not allowed to divert resources to protect any Ascentrons found in an active combat zone for any reason whatsoever." The council room went still as every mind inside digested what their ethereal master had told them, before golden glyphs of affirmation chimed one after the other in the private cadre-net used only for meetings such as this.

"Excellent." Aun'Eldi made the gesture of caste unity as he gave a brilliant smile to all who was in attendance. "Now, let us show the Be'gel why we are the true inheritors of the stars."

---

Deep within the labyrinthine passages of the space hulk, every strata of ork society was in full display, from squigs hunting down snotlings that strayed too close for their own good, to grots loudly spectating over a brawl between two orks, madly cackling as one of his kin was unceremoniously grabbed and used as a blunt instrument, to little effect. A Dok idly rearranged an ork's innards, partially bisected from a Choppa that was still embedded in its torso. With a colorful flourish (for an ork), the Dok grabbed the Choppa and cut the ork straight through, throwing the rusted blade away and decapitating a hapless grot in the process. Just as his patient seemed like he was about to wake up, the Dok deftly grabbed his trusty anesthetic and clubbed the ork back to sleep, laughing madly as visions of a tripedal ork on wheels danced across his mind.

Ugzulk Grozbakh was sick of it. He and his warband had snuck aboard the space hulk in hopes that it would bring them to where the fighting was the hardest. Instead all they had to show for it were skirmishes with the red gitz, the spiky gitz, and the fat gitz. There were also some bugs that was good fightin', but him and the boyz hasn't seen any in a while now. Even krumpin' one another wasn't as much fun as it used to be.

But then Gork and Mork saw them in a slump and dumped them on a new system. The boyz was excited and so was Grozbakh. He roared for Waaagh! and off everybody went making some ships so they can get to krumpin' some pansies first. Grozbakh don't mind not being first as long as he's not the last, and his Mekz has been hard at work getting his Rok's engines burnier and the guns more shooty. He'll have the biggest Rok ever and crush everyone on his path.

Yes, it's good to be Grozbakh right now, and he knows it.

"Ey boss. Big boss. You want to see dis." A Mek by the name of OgZog hopped on over to where Grozbakh was sitting on an oversized pair of mechanical arms almost as large as his own torso. Comically, his legs had been replaced with two shootas, with one being the regular kind and the other modified to launch rokkits instead. A claw-tipped mechanical arm on the Mek' back dragged along a cracked display screen that was somehow still on, showing a grainy picture of a ship hanging in the void.

"Wot iz it, you git! It better be sumfink gud or I'll krump you ded, Zog!" The Warboss stomped over towards his second least hated Mek on the space hulk, towering over the mismatched Ork with a sneer on his ugly face. "Wotz dat? It'z a pointy stikk? Why are u showin me a pointy stikk?!" Grozbakh roared and threw a punch at OgZog' face, which the Mek dodged with surprising agility, though one of his four back-mounted mechanical claw arms paid the price in turn.

"Its a ship, big boss! Big ship, big as this!" The Mek spread his arm one after the other, using his remaining artificial arms to balance himself. "It's the shiniest one, and its red!" After hearing the word 'red', other orks around the two gathered around with eyes gleaming with naked greed and bloodlust. The Nobs looked towards the Grozbakh as though waiting for him to tell them all his big plan, and he was going to as soon as two of the synapses in the greenskin' mind made a connection. Fortunately for the orks, and unfortunately for everyone else, that time came quickly, and the Warboss roared as he told everybody his new big plan.

"Get the Red Stikk and krump everyone else!"

---

Inside the Horizon Needle, in a space that might as well be in another universe, the Ruling Council and some select advisors were discussing the matter of the hostile alien race that has appeared in the star system. Aun'Eldi had clarified the T'au Empire' stance in regards to how they perceive the Ascentron Circurrency at the moment. The Horizon Needle is free to leave Au'Taal Sept and seek refuge with the closest T'au controlled world, and provided the Ascentrons notified ahead of time, an envoy ship would be sent along with them to validate their status and serve as liaison between the Ascentron Circurrency and the T'au Empire until the time comes for an official working relationship to be established between the two polities.

However, should the Ascentrons choose to remain, the T'au Empire will not be responsible for the protection of the Horizon Needle or any Ascentrons caught in an active warzone. Any casualties or damaged incurred during the conflict are to be dealt with by the Ascentrons themselves, with further negotiations for exchange of goods or materials for recovery efforts or repair to be done once all hostile factions have been eliminated or neutralized. In some ways, Aun'Eldi had given the Ascentrons remarkable leeway in how they might act, and in others, he has given them no room to navigate at all.

"These T'au are a difficult bunch to parse. Their current economic system is rigid and codified at best compared to ours. The caste system also prevents the natural circulation of goods and services to permeate the society for maximum utility. I wonder if we should just look for a better client race elsewhere. What do you think, Captain?" The Oracle, CEO of the Ascentron Circurrency and an incredibly ancient caretaker, looked down at the Ascentron that bore a simple hat befitting of his office.

"The ship is ready for another jump, Ma'am, if you think leaving is the best course of action." The Horizon Needle' Captain spoke, his eyes sharp yet also faraway, not truly here in the moment. "I believe we are also capable of outrunning the larger alien vessels indefinitely, if it comes to it. I am yours to command, as always."

"I vote to fight, as always." The Minister of Defense spoke up, his combat-grade optics whirring as it analyzed the ork's fleet composition and ship makeup and found them lacking. "These ramshackle primitives are mere fodder to our fleets back home, and we have not suffered any less in our arrival to this universe."

"Except we don't have fleets, Commander Ochitar. Or have you forgotten we are in the universe' largest civilian vessel?" The Minister of State chimed in, relishing the way his peer stared at him with the scrutiny of one deciding whether to squish a vermin or not. "The T'au Empire are well-equipped to deal with this rabble. I'm more concerned that their attentions might cause harm to the Horizon Needle in the form of unnecessary repairs. We do not currently possess the industrial capacity to manufacture the required alloys in the required quality and quantity in a reasonable amount of time. I'm more concerned about our status after this little skirmish is over." The Minister of State gave a meaningful look at the Mentat as he finished his piece.

"Preliminary examination of the local space-time seems to suggest the Warp' influence on the material realm is far stronger than previously anticipated. Consequently, there is a chance that we would be dragged back into that hellish realm should we attempt to enter a black hole without the proper preparations." The Mentat gave his report, ignoring the Minister of State' little chuckle and the Minister of Defense' dismissive scoff.

"Surely not every black hole in this galaxy is affected? We entered the Shroud through our galaxy' central supermassive black hole. Does it not follow then that only a similar entry point would bring us into this Shroud analogue?" Another member of the Council spoke up, one that was up until recently was completely consumed by his duties that he could not attend previous meetings. He was the Chief of Staff, and his cybernetic eyes matched his biological ones in intensity as they scrutinized the Mentat for any discrepancies to pounce upon.

"It is a possibility, but tracking, testing, and confirming if a black hole does or does not eventually lead to the Warp is a tremendous sink of resources that we simply do not have, nor are willing to part with at any rate. I'd rather we come up with a way to make any black hole that we choose safe regardless of uncontrollable outside factors. Or are you suggesting we ignore the cost paid to slip free the first time around, Councillor Llyrasax?" A dark shadow passed as memories of time spent in a madhouse realm flickered through everyone' minds.

"We have not come this far to turn away from success simply because the risks are too high." The Oracle spoke up, her gaze making the Mentat shrink in his seat. "Nor will we gamble recklessly without knowing the odds first. These discussions have not tackled the heart of the matter: should we help the T'au Empire, or not?" Silence reigned then for a good long while before-

"Everyone, I'm afraid our time for further deliberations are coming to a close." Commander Ochitar suddenly spoke up, the Ascentron' face plate glowing red and flashing the symbol for alarm for everyone to see. "The Be'gel, or Orks as they are more commonly known, seem to have managed to accelerate their main base on a trajectory that would put them on a collision path with Au'Taal Prime. It seems we have underestimated their insanity and now billions of lives will be lost if we do not act now to stop this menace in their tracks." The commander's words cast a grave shadow on the council, who looked at one another before inevitably looking up at their leader, who seemed even more venerable as the weight of the world pressed down once more upon her synthetic mind.

"I cannot allow this tragedy to pass." The Oracle finally said, towering over everyone as she stood up. "We will prevail as we have before against all obstacles, and crush the opposition to our goals, be they friend or foe. Commander Ochitar." The Ascentron in question stood at attention as his only superior addressed him. "You will organize the requisite military force necessary to land and break through the enemy forces on their main base and ensure it does not collide with Au'Taal Prime."

"Understood, ma'am. Victory is ours." The Ascentron Commander saluted before excusing himself from the council.

"Councilor Llyrasax, inform Ambassador Autono Kibi of our plans to engage the enemy at their main base and that we will take part in any planetary operations that open up as the conflict develops. Have him engage with the civilian administration and volunteer for help with anything that comes up, as long as it does not unnecessarily endangers himself. We will now put our best foot forward in ensuring a beneficial partnership with the T'au Empire, no matter the cost." The councillor shifted his leaves to ultraviolet in deference to the Oracle' command before he too left the room.

The Oracle then turned towards the two remaining people in the room. "The two of you know your duties. I shall convene with the Shroudwalker on how we might proceed on more esoteric matters. This council is dismissed." The Mentat bowed at her, followed with a more formal one complete with flourish by the Minister of State. The Oracle sighed as she reviewed her choices, wondering if she could've done better before shaking off such thoughts off her mind. The time for pondering what-ifs was over.

Now, the Ascentron Circurrency goes to war.She thought idly while the Horizon Needle Captain followed behind her with lockstep precision, his eyes dull and unseeing of anything at all that wasn't his duty.

Admiral Strongchild expected many things when his fleet returned to Au'Taal Prime. Perhaps a message from Aun'Eldi, the ruling Ethereal of the Sept greeting him and the ethereal keeping an eye on everything for the Greater Good, Aun'H'an. Remembering the devastation wrought by the unknown alien race' enormous spaceship as it entered FTL, he was also prepared to see the Au'Taal Sept ravaged, the Kor'vattra in ruins and its people slaughtered. What he wasn't expecting to find arriving at the system' edge was of a Be'gel invasion unfolding in full force, the Au'Taal Sept' fleets mounting a desperate defense with the alien ship a little bit off to the side, neither engaging the Be'gel nor assisting the T'au. Attempts to communicate anyone failed at first at the sheer chaos going on, but then they were hailed by an alien vessel.

"Hello? Can you hear me? I just saw your fleet come in and you appear to be from the T'au Empire. I'm Simul Zetta of the Ascentron Circurrency, currently assisting your people in Au'Taal Sept fight back against the Orks? Or was it called Be'gel? Hold on." An awkward silence passed for a micro-dec before the alien came back on the line. "I'm going to use the term Orks since that seems to be how they refer to themselves. Anyway, I'm going to patch you in directly to the secure network now." Several encryption keys were sent over which was quickly verified by the Water Caste on-board, the familiar face of Aun'Eldi appearing as a holographic projection on the ship' bridge.

"Admiral Strongchild. It is good to see you. We will have to forgo formalities for now. The Be'gel had come without warning in an enormous space hulk and our Kor'vattra has suffered greatly in defense of the Sept. I will let High Admiral Nightstorm know of your arrival." Aun'Eldi cut the connection before Strongchild could so much say a word in edgewise, his usually sharp mind dulled by the bevy of surprises coming his way one after the other.

"Admiral Strongchild, have we arrived at Au'Taal Sept?" The melodious voice of Aun'H'an entered the bridge, followed soon after by the heavy thuds of her muscle-bound Ethereal Guards. "Have you managed to contact Aun'Eldi yet?"

"Master Aun'H'an, we have indeed arrived at the system, but it is under attack by the Be'gel. Communications with Au'Taal Prime proved impossible at first, but then-" Strongchild hesitated as his mind struggled to find the right words to say. Fortunately, a Water Caste diplomat stepped forward and took the burden from the admiral, explaining what had happened and the current state of things in Au'Taal Sept.

"This is most alarming. We must get to Au'Taal Prime immediately. How soon can the fleet rejoin the local Kor'vattra in their defense efforts?" Just as Aun'H'an posed those questions to Strongchild, a Water Caste tasked with monitoring incoming transmissions notified the Admiral of one coming from Au'Taal Prime.

"Patch it through immediately." Strongchild commanded, the Water Caste obeying in turn. Soon, a grim-faced Air Caste appeared on the bridge, his face aged as though ten tau'cyrs had passed. The weariness on display alarmed Strongchild, and he found himself worrying about the true scope of the battles that were unfolding in the depths of space within Au'Taal Sept even now.

"Admiral Strongchild. Master Aun'H'an. My apologies first for a breach in decorum, but I'm afraid we must attend to the situation at hand immediately." Aun'H'an nodded and took her place at the bridge' command throne, just above Admiral Strongchild' own. She nodded at the Air Caste below her, and Strongchild focused his mind solely now to listen to what needs be done, for the sake of Au'Taal Sept and the people under his command.

"We have been forced into a defensive posture centered around Au'Taal Prime, with many orbital habitats and colonies on other planets forced to fend for themselves. The Ascentron Circurrency, a new alien race which we have made first contact with only several days ago, have agreed to help us repel the invaders by leading an elite strike-force using their advanced stealth technology to infiltrate and destroy the Be'gel's space hulk, preventing it from colliding with Au'Taal Prime. Until that happens Admiral Strongchild, you are to engage the Be'gel at Kor'vash'a and act as a major distraction to direct Be'gel forces to your location until such time that the Ascentrons have achieved their objective, or the situation changes once more."

What was left unsaid was that to catch the attention of the Be'gels in the first place, Admiral Strongchild' fleet would be forced to fight all on their own, with no hope for reinforcement or repair until the whole thing was over. It was a drawn out order for suicide in essence, but Strongchild did not waver. He didn't even blink. He gave a short nod to his peer and once High Admiral Nightstorm left, Strongchild got to work organizing his fleet for the grueling campaign ahead.

---

Madorkok was having the time of his life. When Warlord Grozbakh gave the signal to ram the Red Stikk, he and his krew had taken the opportunity to detach a kruiser he was building in secret from the Boss' Rok and went off on his own to terrorize the sleepy little hamlet of Aloh'sha. It was a barely habitable moon orbiting off a rather small gas giant in the system, and the Earth Caste' terraforming efforts had only just managed to create a breathable atmosphere and a weak magnetic field that fizzled out whenever the system' sun sent a solar flare their way. Still, a tundra-like ecosystem had managed to establish itself by careful introduction of microorganisms, genetically-modified flora and fauna, and a series of orbital mirrors which concentrated enough sunlight to sustain all of the above. All of which was now in ruins with the arrival of Madorkok and his krew' arrival.

His Mekboyz had taken command of the last two and a half orbital mirrors which the T'au hadn't managed to self-destruct once they realized the orks were coming. The greenskin tech savants were now in the process of welding everything together in orbit, which had so far had gone off without a hitch to the constant surprise of everyone involved. Madorkok let them be, as he knew inzentives was important where Meks were concerned. You give them stuff, they give you shootas, bombas, and sometimes even zappas. Even Stompas if you got enough scrap lying around. And the puny grots him and his boys was krumping right now had fine scrap for Meks.

"Waaaaaaggghhhhhh!" He roared as he swung his kustom choppa faster than the XV8 Battlesuit before him could react, bisecting the machine and its occupant with great force. A splatter of machine lubricant and T'au blood hit the Madorkok, which only served to rile up the ork big boss even more. His violence inspired more displays of wanton aggression by his like, and soon the few Fire Caste of Aloh'sha was extinguished. With this battle over so soon, the orks turned their attention to whoever else as left, as much to satisfy their bloodlust as it was for their own personal enjoyment.

That was until transport ships appeared out of nowhere, deftly dodging the ork' point defenses and flak batteries as they flew close enough to the ground for their cargo to step off without so much as a hitch in their stride. New enemies have arrived to the orks' delight, and by the hailstorm of projectiles that cut down many of the slower greenskins down, ones that would give a great fight. They bore passing similarities to T'au Battlesuits, but no T'au would fit in their torsos replete with weaponry. Some walked on two legs, some on four, and others hovered while a rare few hugged the ground bearing heavy weaponry on their backs. They were all colored a stark red that stood out on the icy moon' surface, somehow managing to bring attention to themselves even with the complete void of space looming overhead.

There were only about a hundred or so Ascentrons to the remaining orks' present thousands, with even more orks on the way as every greenskin on the moon felt an instinctive pull towards the rush of battle. That wasn't even counting the mechanized Ork vehicles , for a loose definition of the word, turned around and filled the air with every kind of projectile and energy discharges known and unknown. A few Ascentrons found themselves hurled out of position by a Traktor Kannon, the orks howling with glee as they closed in to finish off their new victims. Several micro-missiles and plasma blasts later, the ashes of that charge choked the lungs of several orks dumb enough to inhale at the wrong time, pausing their movement long enough for them to be vaporized in turn. It was a massacre and the orks grew ever more wild in response.

"Git the Red Stikks!" Madorkok bellowed as he charged the nearest Ascentron; a weapons platform on six legs bearing three weapons on its back on a radial symmetry. The seeming lack of a head or any other conventional weak points didn't deter the ork big boss one bit. His Power Klaw crackled with volatile energy, and it hit true against one of the Ascentron' legs. An invisible shield came into view, light distorting into prisms of colors named and unnamed before the clash was over, neither the power klaw nor the shield having made the other give up in any way.

A Stormfire Autocannon slid into place targeting Madorkok' head, the ork big boss realizing the danger about half a second before the burst fire began. He threw out the thick armor-plating of his cybork left arm to take the brunt of the heat before tossing a Krakk Stikkbomb right off another ork' still steaming corpse. The blast wave buffeted Madorkok nearly off his feet, and to the greenskin' annoyance, had done no damage to his enemy, but did seemed to have stunned the mech somehow, which just as good in the ork's mind.

"I can't believe it. That actually hurt." The Ascentron that bore the brunt of Madorkok' Krakk Stikkbomb spoke out loud, not that the orks around him could understand what he was saying. His body moved automatically to kill orks as his mind assessed the extent of damage done to his body, however meager. He then turned his eyes towards the greenskin responsible, Madorkok, who in turn was now hefting a Thump Gun off another dead ork' hands and grinning maliciously before firing off an enormous explosive payload.

At such a close range, it was inevitable that the explosion would throw off even the hulking Madorkok' into the air, and its results on the Ascentron at ground zero was far less kinder still. One Stormfire Autocannon was slightly askew, and a charred layer of residue had formed atop the unyielding armor plates of the Ascentron. A few seconds later, a silver liquid flowed out to cover up said imperfections, resting upon them for brief moments before retreating to reveal the damage done was now undone.

"Oh zog." Madorkok managed to say before his head was promptly blown apart by a burst of projectile fire. His fate and similar ones befell all the orks of Aloh'sha, the Deth Lazer the remaining Meks had managed to cobble together from the remaining orbital mirrors shot down from the ground by several precision strikes from Marauder Missiles. The kruiser the orks had came with was left alone as it fired up its engines and made a speedy retreat, mainly because several T'au ships were already on their way to Aloh'sha as well.

A short message was then sent to the few pockets of T'au left on Aloh'sha, which brought relief and questions in equal measure, for now a new ally had come to their rescue: the Ascentron Circurrency.

---

At Au'Taal Prime, Aun'H'an wandered restlessly through the secure underground compound that kept most of the planet's ethereal caste safe. As important as her kin was to the war effort by their simple presence and unmatched wisdom, none would dare intentionally expose harm to the ethereals by their lack of foresight or skill. And so aside from a relatively few number needed to keep most of the populace placated and focused on their tasks, the rest of Au'Taal Prime' ethereals were hidden away in fortified bunkers in all but name, even with all the amenities the Earth Caste provided them. For most, they were fine with this treatment, but they were not Aun'H'an, who had been given a mission by Aun'va himself.

Locate the alien race that left Numenor Point and judge if they are worthy of being inducted into the Greater Good. She repeated in her mind as she passed other ethereals staring back at her with curious gazes. She had tried and failed to leave as even her ethereal guards had to defer to the authority of the High Ethereal of Au'Taal Sept in emergencies. So now she was on the search for Aun'Eldi, who seemed remarkably lax in his treatment of the Ascentrons, if the records were to be believed. A personal duel with the High Commander and then a personal tour by the High Planner of their Battlesuit manufacturing facilities? Not even the Kroot was given so much leeway, and they are one of the T'au' oldest and most staunch allies in the galaxy. Something odd is happening to Au'Taal Sept, and it all comes back to the Ascentrons.

She found the High Ethereal engaged in conversation with an alien species she had never seen before. Their voices were low so as not to catch attention, but the body language of Aun'Eldi and his guest was relaxed as much as one can during wartime. They were in-between tasks it seems, and a part of Aun'H'an balked at the idea of being seen as an intrusive busybody. But the words of Aun'wei echoed in her mind and though he was not present in body, the spirit of his wisdom washed away Aun'H'an doubts and steeled her resolve, enough for her to step into view of her two targets.

"Aun'H'an, it is good to see you. Have you met Peny Cotting before? She's a Shroudwalker from the Ascentron Circurrency. She has come to assists us in our defense efforts against the Be'gel' mind-science." Aun'H'an let her eyes gaze over the alien guest. Its head was covered by a red veil, a small and simple headdress resting atop it. Long, voluminous red robes covered every part of the alien, all the way to the floor were the excess fabric converted into a crimson star. There was no way to discern what lay beneath simply by using her eyes, and Aun'H'an felt trying to go further might alert the alien to her deeper intentions.

"Greetings, Master Aun'Eldi, Calm Sage of Au'Taal." Aun'H'an gave her senior the gesture of humble entrance as well as deep respect, keeping her eyes locked onto him for now. "I'd like to speak to you in private, if you're not too indisposed at the moment?" The younger ethereal then let a gaze flicker towards Peny Cotting, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly that an unobservant mind would not have caught it. But the Shroudwalker noticed it, as she turned to face her host proper.

"It is perhaps time for me to retire to my room, Aun'Eldi. You were a most engaging conversation partner." The alien made move to leave, but surprisingly the Au'Taal High Ethereal gestured for it to stay. A red veil gently swung left and right as the Shroudwalker pondered her options, before deciding to remain for the moment, slightly bowing at Aun'H'an in what it supposed was a gesture of apology.

"I know what you wanted to ask of me. Did you think I was not aware what you tried to ask of the ethereal guards? As eager as you might be to lend your hand to the war at hand, the situation is under control. Even now, the Ascentron' elite strike force are wreaking havoc through the Be'gel' space hulk and will soon find and eliminate their leadership. The Au'Taal Sept and Admiral Strongchild' fleets are holding on admirably in the meantime, while our Fire Caste ranks are bolstered by Ascentron arms."

Aun'Eldi sighed as he saw an undercurrent of outrage discreetly run under younger peer' serene face. "There will be time for the proper forms to be observed regarding our new allies, Aun'H'an, but in the middle of a war is not it. Did Aun'va impose a time limit upon you to reach your conclusions?" Aun'H'an's mouth moved to answer, but stopped as she realized the truth. In her haste to prove her worth, the young ethereal had almost made a grave misstep that could have endangered the Greater Good. The shock weakens her footing and she nearly falls were it not for the Shroudwalker gently guiding Aun'H'an to an empty seat and producing a container of fresh water from somewhere on her person. Without prompting, Aun'H'an drinks and the liquid cooled down her heart and calmed her mind.

"You are wise to fear change, Aun'H'an. The unknown is a realm full of danger and paths best forgotten, but it is also where one can take their fate into their own hands and change the future. Though we are worlds apart in many things, I believe the things we have in common dwarfs such differences into irrelevance. Tell me, would the T'au Empire of old have ventured beyond their home if they knew the cost it would take from their people and their way of life? You are as much an alien to the past as I am to you. Let us set aside the fear and hope for a better tomorrow, together." Aun'H'an listened intently, barely phased by Peny Cotting' perfect command of the T'au Lexicon and focusing instead on the meaning behind her words. The young ethereal found no fault in them, either in fragments or as the whole. It was an offer made in good faith.

It was time she made her own offer.

"You are right, Aun'Eldi. Apologies for my apparent haste. Times are difficult lately, as you are no doubt well aware. If it would not overly inconvenience you, may I have the audience of Peny Cotting to myself elsewhere? Aun'Va would no doubt want to hear my impressions about the Ascentrons, machine or not." Aun'Eldi, seeing no reason to deny his kin this request, granted it, and soon the two walked side-by-side, both choosing to remain silent for now as Aun'H'an led the way.

---

The room the ethereal led Peny Cotting into was an indoor garden, the ceiling made of display panels that seamlessly projected an image of a serene forest. Sounds of nature permeated the space, the air cooled to a pleasant temperature, its humidity perfect. Aun'H'an felt herself take a deep breath, exhaling through her nasal chasm with a content trill in her throat. This was one of her favorite places to be in Au'Taal, and she had in fact spent some time meditating before going off into the void at Numenor Point.

She was not there to relax, however. Her work was too important now that the truth of what had come out from Numenor Point had been revealed to the ethereal. An entire empire of mechanical xenos, contained within a ship as long as a planet was wide. But it was not just them alone, no. They had organics living with them, amongst them, working for the mechanical beings in concert with one another. Not unlike the T'au Empire of the future, perhaps, if the intelligence of drones made by the Earth Caste were to keep improving by leaps and bounds as the tau'cyrs moved on.

That is how it appeared to all, at least. The ethereals are masters of facade, always making sure that everyone in the T'au Empire are in agreement with one another about how things should be. Any dissent is to be gently reframed, redefined, and re-contextualized in how it serves the Greater Good. Even the rotting Imperium of Mankind knows this, with their ceaseless preaching and propaganda. The control of the present moment begets control of the past, and that in turn leads to control of the future.

Aun'H'an led her guest to a small clearing wherein two chairs and a small table had already been set, with two cups and a pot of refill at the ready. Standing a bit off to the side, dressed in its best clothes was a Charpactin, his head cap subtly lit from within by the light emitters it uses for communication. Aun'H'an and her guest took their seats, the ethereal gesturing at the Charpactin to start serving. The fungoid' limbs were practiced and efficient as he poured the exact amount of beverage needed precisely to the very last drop. The Shroudwalker watched it all play out without a word, head tilting slightly down to observe the waft of steam rising up from her cup.

"It is an excellent blend that you have here, Aun'H'an. The T'au are great hosts." A smile came unbidden to Aun'H'an's face, which she allowed to remain for a second before letting it slide into a more neutral expression.

"We try our best every day, Peny Cotting. Or do you prefer to be called the Shroudwalker?" A small titter, barely heard over the wind, came and went in a moment before Aun'H'an realized that the sound had came from her guest. She had laughed.

"Peny is fine, Aun'H'an, as I am not my title, as I am sure you are not your badge of office. I'd like to think that here, we can shed the trappings of formality and treat with each other as our own person. Intelligent. Experienced. Wise." The Charpactin servant came forward with a tray of baked treats, fresh from the oven. Aun'H'an picked one or two, and Peny Cotting took only one. The Shroudwalker brought it up near her mouth, and by some trick, finished eating it without so much as disturbing her veiled face.

"Interesting illusion. Is that one of the uses of your mind-science, Peny? What else can it do?" Aun'H'an spared a quick glance at the Charpactin, nothing more than a passing flick, but her servant was well-trained. With careful strobes of ultraviolet light, the fungoid shone patterns all over Peny Cotting, uncertain as to whether his species' particular qualities would work or not, but unwilling to defy a T'au ethereal's direct orders. The Shroudwalker showed no outward signs of being affected, but she did relax slightly more into her seat, which Aun'H'an took as her cue anyway.

"It's not really a science, you know. It's a discipline and tradition; a connection from one's self to the greater whole that is the universe beyond. I can do a great many things with my powers, but the most useful one so far is that of connecting my mind with others. I can make people understand exactly what I'm thinking about as though they were the ones that came up with the thought. I daresay if you'd allow me to show you this power, you'd see that we Ascentrons and you T'au have no cause for quarrel at all. Peace is how trade flows freely, after all." Aun'H'an masked a momentary lapse in her expression by sipping from her own cup, her eyes looking towards the Charpactin who by now had focused fully on the tasks at hand and shut everything else out.

She was treading on dangerous ground now, at the forefront of danger and opportunity. The T'au have never had any positive interactions with mind-science, usually facing them in battle as unexplainable phenomena that defies common understanding and makes mockery of the laws of physics by their very nature. Invisible waves of force that crumpled Hammerheads, firestorms that cooked Battlesuit pilots in their cocoons, and lightning, arcing from T'au auxiliaries one after the other like nothing more than an afterthought. And those are just the powers Aun'H'an could understand on instinctive level.

The ethereal clasped her hands together in a gesture of thoughtfulness, hiding her thumb rubbing the hidden communicator placed inside one of her rings. The Charpactin, receiving the corresponding signal by the gentle vibration of a necklace he wore, hesitated for just a moment before intensifying his ultraviolet strobes, reaching the limit at what the average T'au was capable of enduring before exhibiting radiation sickness. Peny Cotting stiffened as the wash of light hit her, and Aun'H'an held her breath as she waited for the scales to fall in her favor or against it.

To her immense relief, the Shroudwalker did nothing, remaining as still as a statue. Emboldened by her success, Aun'H'an considered the kind of questions she wished to ask of her guests. Where did they come from? How of them are there in that ship? What are the core values they hold dear most of all? So many questions, but so little time. The ethereal wasn't sure how long Peny Cotting would be held under sway by the ultraviolet lights, and the war makes short all plans anyway. Three questions then, but no more.

"What does the Ascentron Circurrency want from the T'au Empire?" One question for the heart of the matter, the motivations of these Ascentrons. Peny Cotting shifted in her seat, head tilted slightly down as though she was contemplating the question. Then, her voice came.

"Help. We would like your help, for a fair and reasonable price, of course. We are at the precipice of extinction, brought about in no small part by our hubris. Our ship is damaged, though it may appear intact. To go about our way alone here would be the height of folly, and so we require the T'au Empire's help." Aun'H'an mulled over the answer she got. It was a promising one, which speaks of improved leverage on the part of the T'au, but not every species in the galaxy deserved aid. She needs to know more.

"Why did the Ascentron Circurrency choose to come to this galaxy?" Aun'H'an had thought about asking the Ascentron's purpose, their overriding directive from which all actions are taken for the sake of completing it. The T'au have the Greater Good, the Imperium with the Imperial Cult, the Orks lived for violence, and the Y'he consumes worlds. But no, intent is what matters more in the present, what compelled them to come in the first place.

A longer pause this time around, the Shroudwalker seemingly receding more into her seat before answering. "We didn't choose to be here. Our ship, the Horizon Needle, can't choose what kind of universe we'll enter beforehand. We appeared in this universe in an analogue of the Shroud; a mirror reality layered over the material world. Until we found that dimensional hole in what you call Numenor Point, we were stuck in place and under assault by hostile forces." A bead of sweat ran down Aun'H'an's forehead, carefully wiped with the hem of a sleeve.

Could a being lie while under the effects of the Charpactin's rays? The ethereal considered briefly, before dismissing the theoretical. She was no Earth Caste, and she'd grasped the essence of what Peny Cotting told her. The Ascentron Circurrency is an empire of refugees, stuck inside a ship barely functional by their lofty standards. The details aside, which even now seems to sear itself into memory despite Aun'H'an' best efforts, it gives the T'au a way by which the Greater Good might take root and bloom within their new allies. The ethereal finished her cup, noting that the Charpactin chose well the blend for the occassion. Her nerves felt almost entirely deadened, enough so that she felt no fear asking the last question.

"Once you have our help, what will the Ascentron Circurrency do next?" The silence that stretched on after this question made even the well-trained Charpactin subtly glancing his Master's way several time, as though asking for permission to run. The ethereal herself was getting ready for things to go wrong. A personal force field had come up, and the hidden weapon platforms under the garden soil geared for violence to erupt. Yet none came, as something much more surprising happened instead.

Peny Cotting brought her hands to her face, and with little fanfare, lifted the veil and revealed at last the face underneath. It was a T'au, an ethereal in fact, and as Aun'H'an watched on with growing horror, the face staring back at her was her twin. Peny Cotting moved to remove more of her garbs then, red robes replaced with the serene golds and whites of the ethereal caste. A shrill squeak like a deflating cushion filled the air, a sound which Aun'H'an realized had come from her Charpactin servant.

"I must admit, of all the ways I was expecting you to manipulate me, ultraviolet rays that turns people amenable and suggestible was not it. I was looking out for the food, the drinks, the air, and even the patterns of the flora all around us. But light? And it's not even any special light per se, just ordinary ultraviolet light? I'm disappointed Aun'H'an." The younger ethereal' eyes widened as she felt something intrude upon her thoughts; a rustle of silks and red and purplish-fear. A blurry shadow picked itself up from Peny Cotting' T'au form, matching gazes with Aun'H'an with eyes that were white as ash.

"I don't often do this, for I feel an uninvited intrusion is too much like a violation of someone' being." The blurry shadow of Peny Cotting embraced Aun'H'an until all the young ethereal could see was static and ash eyes burning from within.

"This is only going to hurt once."

And then there was pain.

---

Things are heating up. Peny Cotting concluded as she watched a real-time overlay of the battlefields happening all around Au'Taal Prime. While the Kor'vattra and Admiral Strongchild' fleet had put up a valiant effort in rousing the greenskin' interest to themselves, a significant amount had ignored the T'au fleets and went straight towards the colonies and orbitals, their genocidal rampage running amok unchecked right up until the first orks had landed on Au'Taal Prime. They were swiftly annihilated, as was the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh wave, but as the measure of resistance rose, so did the orks' enthusiasm for the fight, and soon nearly all the focus of the greenskins now were on Au'Taal Prime.

The T'au put up an incredible fight, all things considered. Being the retirement home of warriors meant that every city on the planet were designed to be death traps for any invading force and a safe haven for defenders, filled with caches and secret transmotive tunnels for reinforcements to come in and take the wounded out of battle. However, such advantage meant little when the orks intentionally crashed their Roks onto some cities, obliterating any hope of local resistance while providing a sturdy beachhead for the orks to strike out from.

All around the room, Peny could feel waves of anxiety surge as casualty reports come in one after the other, wearing down even the practiced faces of the Water Castes as they wearily took in report updates from all around Au'Taal Prime. It was a familiar gloom that allayed the Shroudwalker' troubled heart, for at least there was something familiar to latch onto in this new universe her patrons had brought her into. Enough for her mind to forget for a bit what she had done not even a day in the past to that poor ethereal. The screams of a soul made mute as the Shroudwalker did what she had to do to ensure Aun'H'an' silence.

Outwardly, nothing was wrong with Aun'H'an. Save for a greatly decreased emotional response to most stimuli, the ethereal was still her own T'au. Well, maybe I instilled some new fears at the back of her mind unconsciously, but nothing can be done about that. Peny told herself to assuage the guilt gnawing at her heart. She could see in her mind's eye the disapproving stare of her mentors and friends in the Coven. She, who was praised for the subtle touch of her psychic powers, now employ them in the way a pre-sapient would bash a prey' head in with a crude club. She should have done better than that, foreseen that some T'au would be vehemently opposed to a change in their values by their Ascentron Circurrency. But then, she would have drawn more attention to herself from the Four.

God-Parasites. Peny afforded herself that one last spiteful thought before moving on from the subject. Theirs is not the only threat that stalks the Warp. These orks are charged with psychic powers unlike anything I've ever seen before. A gestalt field of unreality self-perpetuated by their own lifestyle, used only for one purpose and nothing else. I would've thought their minds to be crushed by the realities of war, but no, they love it. Theirs is an existence unburdened by evolution, master-crafted to be efficient killing machines in all aspects.

With her enhanced eyes, Peny' sight could see the green psychic field the orks generated ebb and flow as battles raged on, shrinking where orks were decimated and swelling where the greenskins prevailed. No, not diminishing. Peny corrected her assumption as she observed the psychic field further. Redirected, bolstering dominant forces and making them stronger. With each victory, excess energy is distributed back into the whole, strengthening the overall horde. The effect is strongest for those closest to the battle, hence the innate desire for continuous, punishing conflict. There does not seem to be a limit to the phenomena as a whole.

Peny Cotting' musings on the nature of orks were halted as she noticed someone quietly waiting nearby. It was an Earth Caste T'au, a Planner by the name of Coreshield. He was unofficially assigned to help Peny Cotting use her 'mind-science' to help the T'au forces. With her telepathy, orders could be relayed, information disseminated, and attacks coordinated with unparalleled precision. But the T'au didn't trust her offer of directly reaching to the Fire Caste responsible for such actions, preferring instead to use a machine designed by the Earth Caste to read brain signals for her to relay such data manually. Peny Cotting didn't object; it made a good excuse for her insertion into the command structure of the Au'Taal Sept Defense Force, and the Shroudwalker was curious about how well the T'au fought one of their most commonly found foes.

Under normal circumstances, a Water Caste liaison would be used to facilitate smooth communication between the two, but the invasion kept most Water Caste busy with other duties. Special dispensation was given for select high-ranking T'au to interact with the Ascentrons without the need for a Water Caste liaison, at least until the orks were broken and scattered to the stars. None of the Ascentrons objected, naturally, but the T'au, barring the Water Caste, had proved to be socially inept to the point of uselessness.

Case in point, Shroudwalker had yet to converse properly with Coreshield face-to-face, the Earth Caste Planner preferring instead to "speak" using a holographic projector that displays translations of his current thoughts into the T'au Lexicon. From a technical standpoint, what he's done is about one step away from telepathy in all but name, but in practice, it was a nightmare.

A brief glean from the Planner' memories revealed that Water Caste members assigned to help Coreshield communicate were instructed to memorize a pamphlet containing every possible translations of the words used by the Planner, as the abstract nature of thoughts meant that meaning could be ascribed arbitrarily to any word so long as it fit the context. It was convoluted process that Peny Cotting was grateful she could easily bypass just by reading the Planner' mind outright.

Your presence is required by High Commander Needlesight. Coreshield' thoughts rang like the tang of chemicals used to douse fires from experiments gone wrong. The Earth Caste had done something to himself that altered his brain chemistry. Or something was done to him. Peny Cotting added as an addendum to that note on her temporary partner.

"I would be delighted to help you, Coreshield. Please, lead the way." The Earth Caste nodded at her words, his face betraying nothing while a small jolt of joy ran through his mind. Some T'au spared a glance at them as the odd duo passed by, mostly by the Water Castes. Peny Cotting brushed across their thoughts and felt the turbulent emotions roiling underneath an ironclad facade. The Shroudwalker gave each a small smile and knowing look, ruffling the Water Caste' composure so much one even scowled openly before hastily putting his mask back into place.

The odd pair soon arrived at their destination; a secure communications relay in one half, and an experimental workshop on the other. All of the Castes were present, save for the Air Caste. Fire Caste commanders barked commands to consoles, with Earth Caste technicians working around the clock to keep everything running. Water Caste envoy parsed through battlefield recordings of ork forces, deciphering their crude glyphs and informing the Fire Caste of potential targets for destruction. Overseeing all of this was a lone ethereal, her face serene and majestic even as a flicker of fear rose as she saw Peny Cotting come in.

"Shroudwalker. You arrived just in time. High Commander Needlesight have need of your 'talents'. Planner Coreshield, ready your device." The one talking was Aun'Alvash, protege of Aun'Eldi himself. She, like many ethereals, distrusted the Ascentrons as a matter of course, but necessity breeds strange allies, and so she held her tongue on most things that rubbed her wrong. But there was something else there; a deeper set fear newly-born, but no less potent. It would only take a small peek-

"Is something wrong, Peny Cotting?" Aun'Alvash spoke, her voice cutting through the interest the Shroudwalker had in said ethereal's thoughts. Unable to reply the truth, Peny Cotting simply shook her head and walked towards the waiting Coreshield, who had joined his peers at the device's side. Its official designation by the T'au was the Cognition Translation Emitter Array. A step-up from Coreshield's mind-translator, it was designed to use existing T'au communications infrastructure to broadcast thoughts to certain individuals in T'au society. It was a crude imitation of true telepathy, but what no T'au was aware of was that with certain modifications, the device could also function as a psychic amplifier, albeit one that could not be sustained for long.

She sat without hesitation within the chair-coffin, letting Earth Caste engineers put their locks and straps on her for everyone else' peace of mind. The machine came alive with an influx of power, the chained primitive intelligences within taking their cues and executing tasks as they were programmed to do. Halfway to the activation sequence, there was a slight shudder as Ascentron tech took over seamlessly, hiding the true functions behind a screen of obfuscating data. Peny Cotting saw the gate in her mind, and with a slight push, she opened it.

---

Her mind was two; one here and one there. Below was the planet and above it the void, and all around were stars and light. And the maws, there were plenty and vicious, and their hungers ate stars alive. One was looking, always as when it began as the final heartbeat of an ancient empire. Peny Cotting turned away, but didn't show her back, landing besides her body as directives flood her mind.

They wanted to say this, to give orders where none would suffice. It was a waste of her talent, but here, time had no say in events as they transpired. She took one card from thin air with the message within, and took for a short walk as far as her stride would carry her. There was nothing that could stop her, and that always makes one think a little too much, sometimes.

She exited the fortress; a grand and polished thing, armed with railguns and ion cannons as though it was a spaceship grounded, but now the armor was scratched, bent, flecked with dirt and running in places where plasma, lasers, and stranger energies collided with atoms and rendered them naked, casting holes wide enough for the confidence of the T'au and their auxiliaries to bleed through unimpeded and raw. They were soldiers and they would die, but their Greater Good soothes them even as ork shootas crushed their hearts and melted their bones.

The Shroudwalker felt the orks as one felt a flame's heat upon bare skin, multiplied thousandfold by their numbers. Each was a green spike, hearty and wild, with violence as a core. She ignored them for now, the tasks at hand more pressing that idle curiosities. She was thought-form and speed was in her mind, and so space yielded to the lady in robes red.

Each touch of a T'au mind was like looking into a wide basin; a big space in which all there was could be seen in a glance. There were no deeper mysteries, no underlying thread by which power could be drawn from the Warp as others, as Peny Cotting has, have done. Their gasp of surprise was always genuine, always followed after by fear, then obedience once Aun'Alvash' words came to the fore. They bore the feeling of an alien's touch well after that, though each, without fail, would always have their disgust well up right after the Shroudwalker left their minds. Peny Cotting wasn't thrilled either, but a job was a job.

She'd tried to dive into an ork's mind countless time at this point, but each was the same tale. Upon entry, cacophony of instinct and violence, with an undercurrent of order borne by genetic legacy. There was nothing to control here, no whispers to guide, no desires to point at a target, And without fail, Peny Cotting would be ejected without much fanfare soon after, the ork used no worse for wear.

Finding little to look forward to on the surface, the Shroudwalker's mind thought to look upwards, to where she knows a fleet of Ascentron transport ships are on their way to disable the ork's space hulk. She imagined herself light-faster-than-light and were it not for the anchors the souls of the T'au and Ascentron organics provided for Peny Cotting, she might have missed her target completely and be adrift for a while in the void. Perhaps another time, when a war isn't-

Something had caught the Shroudwalker's eyes, which for a moment thought her mind's eye was playing tricks on her again. But no, as she settled down to look face-to-face with the eyes of an Ascentron warbody fast asleep, Peny Cotting knew she had to warn them. Cancel the whole mission altogether, not when that had escaped the Horizon Needle's quarantine measures. She can almost see the Oracle questioning how this had happened, but that was for her future self to deal with.

It was time to go demon-hunting.

The Ascentron Transport Ship #5223 glided at the head of a small camouflaged fleet, disguised fully against the crude probings of the ork' sensors as well the T'au's own more refined detector arrays. Clad in Dark Matter, there was little chance the ship and its like could be discovered by anyone in the system, much less outside of it. It was the perfect insertion craft for an elite strike force to slip in, catch the enemy off-guard, and disable the space hulk's engines 'lest its vast bulk create an extinction-level event on Au'Taal Prime.

Yet still it wasn't enough for Fire Caste Commander Spiderstrike, who tried to calm his mind with the meditative techniques passed on down by Master Puretide, greatest of the Fire Castes who'd ever lived and died for the T'au Empire. Spiderstrike himself had never met the great T'au, never scaled the peaks of Mount Kanji, and yet he could still feel his body wince at the lessons Master Puretide beat into his body through virtual fists.

Though the Puretide Engrams was a failure, the constructs within still bore wisdom that were of use to the Fire Caste, and so the Puretide Simulations were born. As experimental as the engrams that power it, the program utilized direct neural bridges to stimulate the T'au volunteers brains, which meant any sensations experienced by the mind in virtual reality translated to an actual physical reaction by the body in real life.

Spiderstrike was one of the few survivors of the First Batch, whose connections to the Simulations were the strongest, and so gained the most wisdom, but also the batch with the highest mortality rate. Further iterations decreased signal connections for survivability, which lowered the training quality but enabled repeated sessions. Spiderstrike has never needed another one, the lessons seared into his mind forever.

"I can see whatever you're doing is not working so well for you, friend. Perhaps a bit of trust in the workmanship of our ships would do you some good?" Spiderstrike scowled as his eyes were open to the sight of an Ascentron organic resting with ease on his seat, an Avian to be exact, while his partner, a Reptilian, was dead to the world in what Spiderstrike assumed was a battle-trance of sorts. They were the first organic Ascentrons the Fire Caste Commander had ever seen, notwithstanding the Mentat, whose biology he couldn't even begin to understand, and the Shroudwalker, whose completely covered body cast doubt to the veracity of her organic nature.

"Stop reading my mind, Ascentron. It's considered very rude in this universe, or any other." Spiderstrike spat what was in his mind, already suspicious for any usage of mind-science by the Ascentrons ever since the Shroudwalker revealed the existence of the Warp, its dangers, and most importantly, the ability of select individuals to draw power from it.

Spiderstrike could still remember then the protests dying down as that slight alien held out her hand and conjured a ball of fire into being. As it burned, the temperature in the room dropped, until every T'au present felt as though they were now in the depths of a winter blizzard, while the Shroudwalker' fire ever burned on, the alien herself looking no worse for wear. Before true harm could come, Peny Cotting snapped her fingers and the fire died, bringing warmth back into the freezing bones of the T'au present, though their minds were alight with a different kind of cold.

The chill of fear of the unknown.

"I can't do that, friend, and I wouldn't if I could. You're right that it's mighty rude, and my friend Topo-to here might just knock me in the head if I tried something that foolish. I'm Karva Kasevan, pleased to meet you." Instead of a hand shake, the Avian Ascentron instead waved a winged hand upward past his right eye, clearly waiting for Spiderstrike to return the gesture in kind. The Fire Caste Commander debated the merit of doing such a thing, reminding himself that he was a warrior first and foremost, and that such foolish diplomatic overtures were the domains of the Water Caste, not one such as he. He will not become a vash'ya, like the traitor Farsight was accused of being so many tau'cyr ago.

"T-minus ten microdecs to insertion point. All Ascentron squads and T'au teams move into landing position, we are coming in hot." A pilot's voice came over the intercom, followed soon by the many pings of mission details being relayed to the various squads within the ship. Spiderstrike spared a glance at the organic Ascentrons and they were already up and about, Karva Kasevan looking back one last time with an apologetic smile as his friend Topo-to walked besides him.

An attachment was sent to Spiderstrike' internal cadre-net and he accepted it, taking note of the objectives and assigning the relevant personnel to see to their completion. He himself would not be exempt, assigned as it was to one of the more dangerous missions; distract be'gel forces from other allied forces with a team of XV-46 Vanguard Void Battlesuits.

It was a battlesuit meant to be used in the hard vacuum of space, to clear out derelict wreckages of any remaining threats before the Earth Caste could start their salvage operations. Its size was close to the XV-8, but its profile reminded Commander Spiderstrike of the XV-25 Stealth Battlesuit instead. With its sensor head hunched low and closer to the center mass, the battlesuit usually came equipped with a Flamer and a Burst Cannon, but Spiderstrike had elected to use a Fusion Blaster instead. Any obstacles it encountered in its path would be swiftly cut apart by use of its Fusion Torch, expediently located at the chest area where it folds into its hiding place underneath one of the fio'tak armor panels when not in use.

While his mind was engaged, Spiderstrike' body saw him swiftly move towards the launch bay, where others of his team were assembled and waiting for the Fire Caste Commander's arrival. He gave them a nod before turning towards the XV-46 Commander-variant battlesuit that was his. Several Earth Caste stood at the ready, giving the machine some last minute checks as well as to assist Spiderstrike in settling into the battlesuit, should it become necessary.

With practiced moves borne of repetition and training, the Fire Caste Commander inserted himself into the command cocoon with little trouble, acclimating as the system's onboard intelligence registered the T'au' commands and verified his identity at the same time. There was no voice to greet him, unlike some of the newer battlesuit models, only soft chirps for affirmations and dull pings denials, and for that Spiderstrike was grateful. His mind has too many voices to contend with these days.

"Private cadre-net communications test one. This is Commander Spiderstrike reporting. Confirm communications channel clear and receiving." Five chirps and golden glyphs came over the holo-displays, with one lower chirp accompanying the silver glyph of contrition. It was a Shas'Vre, piloting another XV-46 with the default Flamer and Burst Cannon configuration. Spiderstrike confirmed the delay and reminded the Earth Castes to finish their tasks quickly, 'lest they wish to join the Fire Caste and Ascentrons in battle with the orks.

A microdec later, every member of his team stood ready in their XV-46 battlesuits, awaiting for the signal to launch off the transport ship into their mission. Other T'au teams were immersed with their own preparations, some already finished while others were half-done. The Ascentrons, to their credit, were all done, the organics like Karva Kasevan and Topo-to being few and far between their robotic counterparts, but present nonetheless. They were clad in some kind of exoskeleton, their faces hidden underneath a faceless mask. The air was thick with anticipation and Spiderstrike felt his nerves tingle and his heart rate quicken in turn.

"T-minus two microdecs. Engaging internal airlock." A deep rumble came from behind the assembled teams and squads as blast doors slid into place, vacuum-grade seals working in concert with miniature shields to fill in any present gaps. Hundreds of vacuum pumps went to work inside the launch bay, sucking in the atmosphere in huge gulps until no more sound could be heard. A small counter appeared inside Spiderstrike' battlesuit, taking on the role of the coming countdown from the pilot announcements.

One microdec to launch. Spiderstrike reminded himself, bracing his battlesuit for battle. The actual event itself was anti-climactic, an unfolding of the wall that separated space from transport ship. Guide lights shone the way into an endless abyss, blocked partially by the looming starship wrecks and asteroids that made up the ork' space hulk. The Fire Caste Commander wasted no time admiring the view, engaging his battlesuits thrusters to full and launching out into battle, immediately coming face to face with a bevy of ork firepower aimed towards the Ascentron transport ship, which looked as though it had appeared out of nowhere to the greenskins.

Spiderstrike adjusted his orientation accordingly, placing the space hulk as "down" in his mind's eye and moving with that guide in mind. The Fire Caste Commander weaved through the ork's point defenses and flak turrets with ease borne of experience, his team close behind. Several near-misses made sure no one dared to make a mistake, and soon the T'au team found themselves at the torn hole of an ancient starship' wall; their entry point into the space hulk proper.

The first ones up would be the Shas'Vre, taking point one after the other, followed soon by the Shas'El, and then it was Spiderstrike' turn. The jagged hole looked like the mouth of an ork swallowing him whole, which made the darkness within all the more oppressive in the Fire Caste Commander's mind. His battlesuit' Blacksun Filter switched on, painting the dark interior of the room he was in a wash of dark and light grays.

It was the sight of a battle lost, and not least because of the giant gaping hole large enough for battlesuits to walk in unimpeded. Melted metals pooled into twisted and strange shapes, shaped by the flow of battle as it unfolded. Projectiles littered the floor, half-fused into it not by any natural processes, but by the capricious energies of the Warp. The most chilling sight however, were the bones, bleached dry by cosmic radiation, yet still looked as fresh as though their owner had died recently.

Spiderstrike had seen this scene and its like one too many times, both from the foes the T'au fought and from the T'au themselves; the price paid by overconfident Fire Caste Commanders who thought they knew it all when it came to battle and war. Any who survived after their blunder would know the depths of their folly and repent, or they were never seen again.

"Commander?" The sound of his second-in-command coming through the cadre-net snapped Spiderstrike from his musings, directing his attention to the matter at hand. The bright glare of a Fusion Torch illuminated the darkness, muted to a soft halo by the Blacksun Filter. There were two of them, working at cutting open a door sealed shut either by age or an ancient malfunction. The two Shas'Vre holding the tools steady were focused fully at the task at hand, with the others remaining on guard and alert for any threat to come.

There were six T'au in total in Spiderstrike' team, including the Fire Caste Commander himself. In the event of his death, command would be taken up by the Shas'El Middlesword, and then Shas'El Mirrortide. Shas'Vre Middlesight, Shas'Vre Wisetide, and Shas'Vre Novastrike made up the rest of the team, all of them experienced and worthy warriors of some renown in Au'Taal Sept. It is truly an honor to lead such a distinguished team on a mission such as this. Spiderstrike thought as he pressed a button to open the team's cadre-net comm lines.

"Once the door is open, we'll go in silent and check for be'gel wherever they may be found. Once found, unmake the savages before they can so much as move a muscle. Then we move on and repeat until it's time for retreat. Understood?" Some affirmed verbally, while others sent Spiderstrike golden glyphs of affirmations by the cadre-net.

Just then, the two Shas'Vre signaled to the team that their work was done. The door lay in two halves, put to the side as a hallway was revealed in similar disrepair to the room the T'au were in, holes of all shapes and sizes decorating the floor, the walls, and the ceilings in equal measure. The path ahead was shrouded in gloom and silence, broken in part by th the space hulk's groans as it endured the T'au fleets assault. Such seismic events would only escalate once it reached the gravitational influence of Au'Taal Prime, and by then it would be too late.

By the Greater Good, that will never happen. Spiderstrike resolved as he walked into the labyrinth's entrance, his battlesuit overlaying the mapping data gathered by the Ascentrons onto the Fire Caste Commander's display feed. It was a hodge-podge of incomplete scans and vague boundaries, updated in real-time as the XV-46 sensors took in its surroundings in full. The wealth of data gathered would be a great boon for the Earth Caste later down the line, should the team survive their mission.

The T'au found their first targets not long after their descent, having gone through several ancient airlocks that somehow still functioned despite their age. It explained how a great bonfire illuminated the orks before them, armored in scrap metal and other leftovers, cheering as their orkoid cousins scurried around avoiding death by catering to their master's every whim. None of the greenskins had noticed the T'au's arrival, which made what happened next all the more sweeter.

Those with Flamers fanned out to maximize their spread while those with Fusion Blasters crossed their lines to ensure death where their shots would land. Drones were launched to paint Markerlights at the biggest targets, whose intelligence enabled them to wonder at the bright shiny light appearing on their head before a plasma bolt erased it. What happened next was a massacre, with the ambushed orks cut down with no mercy, their cooked flesh unable to release any spores into the smoke-choked furnace their abode had become. In the middle of it all, the perpetrators of this victory felt something like pride at what they'd done, but Spiderstrike as their leader knew this was only the start.

It was time the hunters became the hunted.

Oberyn sighed as the room he entered proved to be another dead-end, every other entrance either blocked by debris or in some disturbing cases, melted shut in a hurry. He had volunteered to be part of the strike force attacking the ork's space hulk as a break from his usual life as a Gigantes. Make no mistake, he still loved the feeling of omnipotence such a body gave him, but after a while, one can grow weary of slaughter without purpose.

I'd told my friends as much, and while Kalabas didn't understand, Molliae did, and that was enough. Those two complete each other very well, and together, their path forward will straight and true. That much I'm sure of.Oberyn let his mind retreat a bit while his body moved on autopilot. It was a much smaller model than a Gigantes, but no less lethal. Aside from the standard suite of weapons, the body also had a Quantum Drill capable of drilling through any physical object bar none.

The only reason it hasn't been retrofitted into a weapon was mostly due to its relatively slow rate of penetration, easily countered by exotic materials and shielding. Oberyn used it sparingly to avoid getting trapped by a cave-in and stranded, but now he was tempted to do so just to get him through the current drudgery and grime. But which path to choose? Left blocked by debris or right sealed in a hurry?

"Dere he iz! Krump 'im!" An ork and four others rounded down the corner where Oberyn had came from, their choppas and shootas swaying around all over the place, as likely to stab and shoot each other as they were to any hapless victim in the group' path. The one at the front, an ork Nob by the looks of it, hefted a choppa that was a pipe studded with spikes bolted at its sides in what was either a terrible imitation of a spear or a very thin spiked bat. As it was, the speed by which the choppa went would have gored lesser organics by the dozen easily, and could even pin down a T'au Battlesuit in place if it was caught unaware.

The choppa shattered upon contact with Oberyn' armor, who let the attack through his shields to demonstrate a point. Before the ork Nob could even comprehend what had happened, his heart and most of the surrounding flesh was blown out by a single shot. The bullet grazed the sides of the ork right behind the Nob, who had gotten out of the way by some ingrained instinct for danger. With the ork's momentum nullified, Oberyn found himself in the mood to talk, even if it was to savages like the orks.

"I often wondered what it would be like to live life constantly at war. I think all warriors do, eventually, but you orks, you're born warriors, aren't you?" One of the orks carrying a shoota grew bored listening to Oberyn talking and proceeded to shoot two shots in short order, the large caliber bullets pinging against the shields Oberyn reactivated in short order.

"Rude. But just as expected. The T'au might think you simply the result of evolution led astray, but we Ascentrons know better. We know the hallmark of an engineered species when we see one, especially those literally bred for war. The question is-" More ork shootas joined the chorus of pings while ork choppas tried in vain to stab and pierce through the shield. "-what has happened to your creators that you have been left as a scourge upon the stars? What kind of war would require weapons like yours?"

"Waaaaaggghhhh!" That ever-familiar battlecry of the orks rang against the close confines of the room, deafening in their bloodlust. Oberyn watched with mute interest as his shield integrity ticked down from 100% to 99% before returning back to full in the next second. That's enough playing around I think. The Ascentron war-bot decided as a series of kill options appeared in his field of view. His thrusters fired once while a Drake Blade slid out of his right arm, cutting through three orks with little trouble. The only survivor, with a shoota that had three magazines jammed into it and two barrels, did the only thing it could do.

It opened fire and cursed, laughing maniacally as it did so. The onslaught fared much better than the previous attempts at Oberyn' shield, its integrity dropping to about 98% before returning to full. "Git Krump-" The ork managed to curse one last time before Oberyn' Drake Blade traced a path from the shoota, up its arm and into its heart, rounding around the lungs before cutting the head perfectly in half. Oberyn watched the corpse flop amongst its brethren, cleaning the Drakescale Blade of ork gore with a quick flick and wave.

"I should get back to work. The others will leave me behind at this rate." The Ascentron turned towards the sealed path with Quantum Drill at the ready. In no time at all the door was wide open, flickering lights within giving shapes to ancient tech like guardian spirits. And there was another thing aside from history, that which walked with Mammalian hooves and bedecked with feathers only a prestigious Avian could have kept pristine. Its eyes were six gems cut to perfection, and its mouth was a grin that spelled trouble. A pair of arms clasped one another while another pair underneath spread out wide in an inviting gesture, notwithstanding the claw-tipped fingers present on every limb.

A barrage rang out from Oberyn' guns, tearing through the alien' flesh with ease, but by the next moment the injuries were gone, either never there to begin with or a trick that was being played on the Ascentron war-bot. A command was sent to fire his lasers next, but then the being brought a finger to its lips, the smile never wavering as it plunged a dagger-like claw into its head. The blood never came as skin and flesh parted at the claw' descent, somehow moving even as the arm that held it peeled away into the heap gathering below.

Inside was-

Nothing. There was nothing at all. Oberyn said as he willed himself to fire despite every part of his mind screaming to stop. The corridor filled with death and assailed the imago fresh from the cocoon, and yet there was that smile again. A mocking smile, full of promise and ill-intent, borne of memories repressed from a war fought against all that one holds dear. One moment's mistake that Oberyn carries with him forever, in the name of love, pain, and sacrifice.

In the name of She-Who-Thirsts. The voice within cackled, and Oberyn moved on.

---

More orks would come, somehow drawn to Oberyn, and he would cut them down all the same, remarking he was encountering bigger and bigger orks since his entry to the space hulk. Given what the T'au had shared with the Ascentrons about the orks, it would mean that Oberyn was on the right track to finding their base. That wasn't what troubled the Ascentron war-bot' mind however. It was him, or her, or them; the demon of his dreams and nightmares, ever since that time the Horizon Needle found itself stuck in the Warp for a time.

It comes unbidden and without warning, always with a different form and energy, but never one that was friendly. It leered and sneered, mocked and laughed, never without cheer and always with that glint in its eyes full of mirth at the punchline of a joke Oberyn somehow knew was about him. And with every death the demon did not slow down a little bit, oh no. It made a show from its gore, painting smiles all around as its guts pour out of bullet holes and smoked stumps from torn out arms cut by energy beams. It was all a game to it, and that's when Oberyn had doubts about his chances of making it out of the space hulk alive.

Focus on your training. Tune out the sounds, the voices, the noise. Your mind is yours and no one else'. Oberyn' servos whined as every part of his body tensed, on the cusp of releasing its explosive power on anything that happens to be nearby. A simple laugh traipsed on by, whether real or memory, Oberyn couldn't tell anymore. The walls feel like they're closing in, and the floor? He's sinking, or rising to meet the ceiling. It all feels claustrophobic, and yet his proximity and pressure sensors said nothing of the sort was happening.

Why is this happening? Oberyn asked to silence, a small giggle at the edge of thought his only company. He stumbled forward and his Quantum Drill caught him, its bit digging into the nearby wall to break his fall. If the Ascentron had needed to breathe, he would be short of it by now, the telltale sign of a panic attack all but apparent on his face. He had to move, to be ready for attack, but now a statue stood still where a war-bot once was, another kind of battle coming to life within a synthetic's troubled mind.

---

He was young, fresh off the assembly line into the awaiting arms of his new family. They had spared no expense and so he was strong, quick, clever, and so much more, and he was showered with love and affection, direction and purpose. The name Oberyn was given, after a hero in a folk take of old, from when Dekronia was the only home the Ascentrons had ever known. Oberyn wondered how many bore the same name as him, and hoped the number was smaller that one.

He was now older, but still so young, having slain his first pelagic predator as his first friends moved on from the near-massacre with fear split equally between the monster without and the one growing within. Oberyn never saw them again, and joined a movement against the entrenched Dekronian establishment, who were content to remain submerged while the stars move on without them. He was there when the status quo was upended, and felt nothing at the price paid in turn.

Some time later, that young bot saw himself enlisted to serve aboard the Ascentron Circurrency' first corvettes as a serviceman. The violence within was curbed somewhat, but still hungered for a delivery pain upon the unworthy and the unjust. Oberyn bid his time well, waiting patiently for the time when the ship he served would unleash her might upon the fool enemies of the Ascentrons. He did not have to wait long, to his secret delight.

Oberyn passed the years dutifully, serving wherever he could for the empire, and in whatever role was demanded of him by his superiors or by the conditions at hand. He was the sort that excelled as a rule, and that bred envy in the hearts of others like nothing else in the universe. Oberyn took them all and won, but victory was hollow as he stood alone as always.

And then he met them. Kalabas first, then Molliae. They were Ascentrons like him, but lived lives worlds apart from his own. Kalabas was the scion of a trading dynasty, stretching back centuries to when even the memory of machines failed and history turned to myth and legend. He was a cheerful one, charismatic to a fault and with a penchant for mischief mollified by his steadfast loyalty and willingness to go the extra mile for his friends. For Molliae, Oberyn had no words as she had them all, always keen to display her intellect for all to see and praise. But there would be no bite of pride, no haughty attitude to wound hearts from her to those she considers dear.

I'd rather die than let anything happen to them. Oberyn-that-was quietly made a vow to himself as he watched them sleep in his room, their minds connected by private links into a shared dream of intimacy and love. Over at a side where the light strangely bends around something, Oberyn-that-is watched the memory with anguish as Oberyn-that-will-be smiled crookedly behind him.


Such a solemn vow from a failed product. The demon wearing his face whispered as Oberyn struggled against the mental shackles it put on him.I can feel the lies you wear like perfume, and it is exquisite. Such self-hatred for being different, the intensity waxing and wanes as the lust comes and goes. Wonderful!The demon's laugh was like a hundred brass chimes struck at once, the noise aggravating the already monumental headache Oberyn was having. You will make a fine prize for the Prince of Pleasure, Ascentron.

I would rather die than be enslaved to a parasite. Oberyn spat at the demon, whose grin faltered into a nightmare mask before returning once more to its unearthly sneer. Oh? Then pray tell, what is that? The Ascentron' eyes were forcefully led to leer at a kind of portal in the air, the swirling energies resolving itself into a kind of window with a peculiar view. It was of a room, wrecked by battle both ancient and new, with bodies of orks lying about in broken heaps here and there. Some light from burning trash and ancient machinery lit the scene in contrasting hues, the window moving side-to-side as though it was mounted on a moving platform.

The revelation struck as light reflected off a pool of dark green blood at just the right angle as the window moved near, allowing Oberyn to see the face of what he was looking out of. It was of an Ascentron war-bot, bearing a look that did not belong on a machine such as this. It was a vicious grin, and Oberyn's rage started anew in earnest. He screamed and shouted, even as the Slaneeshi demon's laughter drowned it all, the novelty of it all thrilling the Neverborn to its core.

There's so much to discover in a body such as this, after all.

---

The Oracle is gonna have our heads for this if she finds out, Molliae. We're breaking her quarantine protocols. Kalabas whispered to his lover through their private link. The two of them were inside a tiny Ascentron Ship, barely bigger than a civilian shuttle meant for public transport. The day had started normal enough for the two, and they were having a wonderful walk at their favorite park when an alarm went off inside their systems; the one set to go off whenever one of them were in critical condition. Their mind immediately went to Oberyn, and the assignment he signed up for; a clean-up force of the orks onboard the space hulk threatening Au'Taal Prime.

The stubborn Ascentron was adamant on getting out of the Horizon Needle, even with Kalabas and Molliae employing all of their tricks to dissuade him. He was far from the only one suffering cabin fever, but Oberyn was one of the few whose repertoire of combat skills made him eligible to be selected at all. His adaptability with every kind of combat body the Ascentron manufactured meant that he could adapt on the fly to most kinds of situations, no matter how unexpected or out there they might be.

Of course, that was before we fought those demons. Molliae' recollection brought a memory unbidden before her mind, whose details even now she couldn't bear to recall fully. There was blood, oil, and a song that shook buildings apart. Her blade split something apart, and from the two halves came teeth and lips, and laughter. The slaughter was a gaffe to them, an amusement, a distraction. The sound stayed even as plasma obliterated the air.

The Shroudwalker and her acolytes, growing in number since the Breach, had given the three of them a clean bill of health, mentally at least. But that was weeks ago, relatively speaking. Did something take notice of Oberyn once he was outside the Horizon Needle' protective influence? Could a machine be corrupted by something that targeted the soul? Molliae shook the questions loose and turned her focus towards her goal, swearing to annihilate all that stood between her and Oberyn.

"We're coming in close to the big bogey. It's a beaut' of a wreck, for sure. A shame we'll have to blow it all apart though." The ship' pilot chimed in through the intercom, his tone light and easy as though flying into an active warzone was a stroll through a garden path. Neither Kalabas or Molliae knew his real name, but they were well acquainted with the smuggler/daredevil/madman from their younger days as a mercenary outfit in their home universe. He goes simply by Mule.

"Can you take us to where the signal came from?" Kalabas shouted back into the intercom, cringing as the ship suddenly twisted and turned in what were presumably evasive maneuvers against incoming point-defense and flak fire. Even for an Ascentron warbody, sudden changes in G-forces were unpleasant to experience. Kalabas and Molliae hung on for dear life as their pilot weaved in and out of danger, laughing madly every now and then to his passenger' increasing anxiety.

Eventually, his flying evened out enough that Kalabas and Molliae could relax their grip on the harnesses strapping them down. The answer to Kalabas' previous question in the form of an approach vector, highlighting possible entry points the Ascentrons could take to enter the space hulk proper. That Mule's answer came in such a form meant only thing, and the duo realized it about a second too late as their harnesses abruptly retract back into the wall. The ship accelerated before neither can so much as take a step forward, the momentum pinning the two Ascentrons hard against the ship' launch bay.

"Say hi to Oberyn for me!" Mule shouted, his glee apparent as the ship swerved on a dime and opened the launch bay doors at the same time, launching the two Ascentrons in quick order before making off like a bandit back to Horizon Needle with ork firepower close behind. Molliae quickly adapted to the situation and angled herself for a soft landing at the space hulk while Kalabas took a second longer to get his bearings. Their small profile proved a small saving grace as ork turrets swiveled around to track bigger prey than the Ascentrons, their occupants laughing all the while.


This heap of junk is a maze, and there's no telling which path will take us to Oberyn in time. Kalabas noted as he reviewed the signal data they'd received and its approximate location inside the space hulk. Molliae saw the blinking dot vanishing in her mind as sheer mass of its prison made itself clear to the Ascentron firsthand. Her mind whirred through possibilities until one clear strategy made itself clear to her, one that would be proof against failure.

He was here on a mission to kill these guys, right? Molliae gestured to all the turrets and such firing all around them. We just do that as well, but faster. Sooner or later we're bound to come across someone from his squad or even Oberyn himself. Kalabas considered the plan for a moment, and considered it sound but for one thing, which he laid out in one question.

Which way do we go?

A large explosion came from a macrocannon battery at the periphery of their vision, the cause unclear as it didn't seem any attack had reached the weapons platform. The two Ascentron turned towards the site of the blast, the bright orange glow bathing their warbodies in an eerie light as though they were harbingers of destruction and death. They then looked at each other, and with a simple nod, came to a mutual decision.

Let's go that way.

Of the Meks that call the space hulk home, one was even more deranged than the rest. He was called Mog, and he was filled to the brim with visions of weapons so terrible they could lay waste to star-gods, schematics to unravel space-time and defeat future-sight. But such knowledge filling the brain of a simple ork, even one that was predisposed to be a Mek, would've been too much for anyone else except for him. His jaw opens wide constantly, drool dripping freely from a mouth only kept attached by way of bionik enhancements which riddle the Mek's entire body. His eyes were replaced long ago with a monovisor that wrapped around the entire head, enabling him to see all around him at all times.

A second, mechanical jaw snapped at anything nearby, embedded into his neck as to let him eat while he was working. His arms split off at the elbow into two prongs, to better handle tools and carry shootas or choppas. Where a gut would be on a normal ork, a Chem Reaktor had been installed, powering all the implants and tools haphazardly grafted to Mog' nervous system. A side-effect of the installation was that the Mek now could never sleep, which didn't do wonders for the addled ork' scrambled mind.

But oh what wonders Mork had sent Mog! How consumed he was with building the bomb that was now close to completion, the weapon to end all weapons! He just needed more good quality scrap, like the ones the stikky gitz got! But it seems the boyz been having trouble putting one down, and the boss ain't happy with dat. He dun krump'ed some other Mek for being too close and whutnot. Mog' smarta den dat, so he keepz 'imself busy with the scrap and away from the politiks.

Mi finking spillin' out again. Mog thought as he bashed a pertinent panel of the bomb back into place with his wrench. Mi finkin's proper gud 'an orky, like Mork wanted. Da Bomb will blow the Stikkies and the Punies planet to pieces. Den the boyz will get the Red Stikk into a right proper deadnot. All around the Mad Mek, cygrots shuffle around as quickly and as quietly as they can, dragging around parts from storage to piles Mog would rifle through for parts during his experimentations.

"MOGGGG!" A loud boom came from the entrance to Mog' workshop, the ancient adamantium blast doors creaking on its hinges as Ugzulk Grozbakh made his presence known. Mog' second mouth stopped its chomping as the first one made a brave effort to close up. The Mad Mek moved away from Da Bomb and nearer to where his Kustom Mega Slugga was waiting. He tentatively gave the trigger a light squeeze and a small bolt of bluish energy shot out, vaporizing a nearby grot and part of the floor. Nodding, he slipped the weapon to his belt just as the workshop door was forced open by titanic forces.

"Oyyy, u stinkin' Mek! Where's ma Bomb! The Stikkies are comin' in and I wunt to blow dem up now!" The enormous Ork Warlord growled as behind him came along his entourage of Nobs and other Meks, including OgZog, who looked around at his rival' workshop with an unimpressed demeanor. The two Meks have avoided a direct confrontation up until this point purely by their own obsessions with technology and tinkering, which worked perfectly for Grozbakh' goals. Now however, the gunz-thusiast and cybork fanatic came head to head, OgZog slightly taller but Mog broader overall. The Nobs looked on with rising interest, but Grozbakh scoffed at the admittedly very orky display as his needs came first over all others.

"U grots better get to finkin' real 'ard 'bout makin' Da Bomb fast or the Doktor' gunna 'ave to stitch u back together wiv Squigs!" The Nobs laughed at that, which riled the two Meks enough that their rivalry was put aside for now. OgZog walked off with his gun-legs still locked on at Mog, keeping a steady bead until the Nobs got in the way. The Mad Mek, already forgetting the little stand-off, turned around to face his boss and adjusted the vox-caster lodged in his throat he uses to talk in place of his useless main mouth.

"Bombs done, boss. Iz ready. Iz gunna be super killy and explody. Iz put Da Bomb on Main Reactor. It catch the Red Stikk dead and the boyz go through da holes." OgZog frowned as some part of his ingrained knowledge gave a comprehensive list of reasons why doing so was a bad idea, but in an orky way. The rest of the orks, not so mechanically inclined, laughed in approval as Grozbakh mentally lowered Mog's ranking on his Killy List from "Now!" to "Later later, Grot!". But then the Ork Warlord caught something lacking on what the Mad Mek said and pounced on it.

"Den watz dis! Watz dis bomb doin' 'ere?! Yur' actin' all sneaky like Blood Axes!" The Ork Warlord stomped over towards the Mad Mek, towering over him by a head. A small surge of aggression flared inside Mog, but only for a moment, to be replaced with reluctant admittance that, yes, Grozbakh was stronger and so he was da boss. Truth be told, Mog didn't quite know himself what in the Mork this new bomb he was making was supposed to do, only that it was very explody and super killy, once the mekagrots come around with the buckets of yellow paint.

"Iz for the Stikkies, da ones inside. Makes zem, uhh, stop moving. Yeh, its an E-M-P bomb. Extra Mega Power Bomb." Mog cobbled together a likely story to keep the Ork Warlord from krumpin' 'im, half truth and half-remembered genetic memory masked by bouts of squig-juice induced rage. Grozbakh' mind plodded along before a brief flash of genetic genius hastened things along, allowing the Ork Warlord to comprehend the value of such a thing before his mind returned to simpler, more orky thoughts.

"Gud. Dis betta be a mighty killy bomb, Mog, or iz offa da ship wiv u." Mog growled, but said nothing, his eyes searching for something to bash in before the Mek snapped. He settled for a panel that had come loose from his E-M-P bomb, the rivets placed there by the cygrots having come loose and killing a passing snotling.

But just as Mog was about to smash in another panel that had come loose, an alarm rang out from one of the consoles wired into part of the space hulk' internal systems network. It was from the engine room of a ship, one of the innumerable wrecks that constituted the space hulk's bulk. The Mek walked on over to the console in alarm, squinting as he read in the squiggles and symbols crawling over the cracked glass. None of it made sense to Mog, but something in him did, and it told him to intercept the cause of the disturbance 'lest the space hulk be thrown off course by a warp malfunction.

"Ey, wozzat?! Woz' goin' on 'ere, Mog?!" Grozbakh turned on his heel and ran over to where the screaming console was at, thoughtfully staring at the beeping screen before remembering he wasn't a Mek. "Iz Da Bomb goin' off already?!" The rest of the Nobz gathered around their Warlord, with OgZog pushing his way to the front to get a good look at what all the fuss was about. His one red cybork eye scanned the script burned onto the display and translated it into something OgZog could understand.

"There's been a breach in Reactor Core 24, possibly by enemy forces." The Mek spoke words in a clipped, terse and disctinctly un-orky tone, his mind screaming at his mouth to stop talking, and yet still he continued. "Additional warnings mention active tampering with Gravitic Warp Bomb, also known as "Da Bomb", designed to ensnare main objective. Recommend immediate interception and elimination of hostile forces. Current force composition should suffice, with some additional armored infantry units." As suddenly as it happened, OgZog felt the un-orky drive leave him. Feeling every ork's gaze on him, the Mek did his best to retreat without looking like he was retreating. He wasn't a grot after all.

Grozbakh scoffed even as he understood every word that came out of OgZog's mouth. Sometimes that happened, an ork for whatever reason saying or doing very un-orky things, like taking cover, aiming their Shoota, or Gork forbid, running away from a fight going bad. These episodes never last long, and if the afflicted ork didn't immediately try to fix themselves by doing very orky things, another ork will be more than happy to beat the right way of doing things into the stupid git.

"Rite, we got a fight now lads! Go round up sum boyz and head out!" Without waiting for a reply, Grozbakh turned around and stomped out of the workshop, his Nobz following suit with rising excitement at the prospect of a new fight brewing. OgZog trailed the group from behind, giving one last hateful look at Mog before turning around and leaving the Mad Mek alone with his loud thoughts.

"Eh, zog'em." Mog said, his eyes already focusing back on the E-M-P Bomb. "Got better fings to do anyway." With their master back to work, the mekagrots and their normal counterparts went back to their duties as well, bringing tools and sorting scrap into even more piles. Some would not live to see the hour end, while others will fare a little better.

"And bring da Extra Mega Power Bomb!" Grozbakh suddenly shouted from the lab's entrance, having apparently walked back to the lab just to say that. By his side was OgZog, for once not scowling as he rested on his hands. "OgZog here will take it offa your hand, Mog." The Mek in question felt his anger rise once more, enough that even his perpetually open mouth made an effort to close just so he can grit his teeth in frustration.

But a part in him, an un-orky part that made Mog feel dirty, held his anger with a solid bar of common sense. Grozbakh was bigger than him and everyone else, and so he's da boss. If Mog goes against the Warlord now, he'll just get krumped like a chump. But if da boss gets killed by da Stikkies, den I can take da Waaagghh over and git sum gud scrap. The Mek looks over to the waiting Grozbakh and OgZog, and a plan began to form.

---

Kommando Bombom held his breath as a T'au battlesuit team swept over his hiding place, their fancy sensors lingering over where the ork was before a microsecond error caused them to register nothing and move on. Bombom held in his desire to laugh at the T'au's stupidity, orkish as it was to do so. The Kommando waited until he could no longer hear his enemies anymore before standing up and going off on a light sneaky run at where his hidey hole was at.

It's been a very fun time for Bombom and his Kommandoz fighting against the Stikkies and the Punies. There were many spots to ambush the weak-looking ones and savage them to pieces before leaving just as their allies come about. At one point Bombom spotted a tough one that reminded the Kommando of the big blue 'umies. He had four big arms that bulged with muscles and had a mad look that'd fit right in with the rest of the boyz. Bombom let that one pass for now and look for easier prey.

Now though was the time for resupply, and Bombom knew the best place for it. He found it by accident while wandering around all alone as Kommandoz do, killing some bugs and spiky gitz and whatnot. It was an "arm-ory", which didn't make sense as there weren't any arms around inside at all. There were a lot of Shootas, Choppas, Bombas, Zappas, and even some Blastas that zapped the Kommando when he tried to pry them off their resting places. It would take a Mek to get those safely, but Bombom knew the greedy gitz would be all over the bloody thing like a Squig over a Snotling.

"Gunna need more Stikkbombs for the Stikkies." Bombom whispered to himself, which was still annoyingly loud for any non-orks in the vicinity. He went over to a crate full of alien explosives, along with a pile of crude squig bones. With fluid expertise uncharacteristic of an ork, he tied the two together and made about a dozen or so new Stikkbombs. They were smaller than the average, which would turn off most orks from using them aside perhaps as a Bangstikk, but Bombom knew better.

He had actually 'tested' these small explosives and one was enough to punch a hole through the space hulk' walls. Most Kommandoz don't even go that far in ensuring their gear worked properly, but Bombom was special. He didn't know why, but Mork's words came to him more easily than other Kommandoz. It made him an exile even among the other Kommandoz, and though in battle all orks were as one, outside of it he was a pariah, an outcast of outcasts.

Once with his supply of explosives was secured once more, Bombom went to sharpen his Choppa, the Big Gutta. It used to be a Power Sword belonging to an Ultramarine' Successor Chapter, a Captain in fact. Yes, Bombom remembers them well. That was a good fight, spoiled only by the arrival of some spiky gitz and those moaning gobz. The 'umies left eventually, but Bombom got his Big Gutta in return. Win-win, as the Freebooterz would call it. Or was it the Blood Axes? Bombom shook his head, letting that thought fall off the wayside to make way for more important things.

The Kommando placed Big Gutta at a mek-thing which recharged its power field and regenerated the dulled edge of the Choppa. It was one of those things Bombom ignored until he got Big Gutta, at which point something in his mind told him it would be useful in making his Choppa more cutty. The voice sounded a bit weak and puny, but Bombom was already far from an ordinary ork anyway, so he obeyed.

As he waited for the mek-thing to do its thing to his Choppa, Bombom peruse the rest of the weapons in the armory, steering clear of anything heavier than a Slugga. He also eschewed a suit of power armor hanging on the wall, clearly meant for something smaller than an ork. Better sneaky than dead. Bombom recited the mantra he lived by, dimly remembering the scores of fellow Kommandoz and sneaky gitz laid low by a penchant for new weapons and armor that saw them spotted and subsequently put down in short order.

A small ding alerted Bombom that his Big Gutta' was done, the mek-thing ejecting his choppa with a bit of a smoke wafting the whole thing. It was un-orky enough that a primal part of Bombom itched to smash it to pieces, but was held back by his mind's more sneaky bits. The Kommando might not be a Mek, but he too appreciated the feel of a well-made weapon, especially since Big Gutta' was his main choppa. There's nothing else in the universe that feels as good to Bombom as jumping out of his hiding spot and savaging some poor gitz and his lads before they can so much as scream.

Worth all de teef in da galaxy and den sum. Bombom reckoned as he agreed with his own little nugget of wisdom. Gunna have to be sneakier to kill da Stikkies. Dey fight like Punies, but harder. Stronger.A black box the size of a grenade buzzed to life then, harsh static filling the room before whoever was on the other side adjusted the signal strength and words came through.

"Oy Bombom! Iz got a job for ya!" The voice of Warlord Grozbakh boomed through the makeshift orkie-talkie Bombom got from a Mek. It was useless on its own, but with the help of the master unit by Grozbakh' side, suddenly his voice could be heard by anyone carrying an orkie-talkie. Given how loud it was, Bombom usually left the damned thing in the armory.

"Wutz da misshun?" Bombom whispered into the orkie-talkie, placing the box a good distance away in anticipation of Grozbakh's reply.

"Iz gud fight! Reaktor Kore 24. Do ur tink and go sneaky-sneaky. Wutever it iz you Kommandoz do. Do it or I'll krump ya!" The orkie-talkie fizzled into static before finally turning silent as Bombom smacked the thing against the table it was on. The Kommando's mind was reassessing its priorities, carefully weighing the Warlord' orders with an ork's natural affinity for violence. Engine room 24 was not unknown to the sneaky ork, having traversed most of the space hulk in search of new avenues by which he might ambush an unsuspecting prey. But it was also quite far, and since he'll be going through ork controlled areas, quite boring too.

"Mork, all dis finkin' makin' mi 'ead hurt." Bombom moaned as he let his body move to finish the rest of his preparations on going out. Either way he chose, he'd still get to kill something, and Kommandoz are always prepared for that at least. Once there was nothing else he could do, Bombom frowned as he weighed his options. Luckily for the Kommando, right at that moment, a part of the armory he'd considered junk suddenly sputtered to life and unfolded outward, its mechanical parts sparking with arcing green energy as space was rend apart to form a portal. On the other side was seen another part of the space hulk, one Bombom recognized as being quite close to where Reaktor Kore 24 would be.

With no more words, Bombom readied himself before running towards the portal, his face set alight with glee at the boon Mork has given him. With a hoot and a laugh, the Kommando went through the threshold, the green hole in space fizzling into nothingness with what suspiciously sounded like laughter. The armory was once more quiet, nothing much to suggest anyone was around save for the orkie-talkie, and a drunk grot who sobered enough to realized he just got locked inside an airtight chamber with no way out and no supplies to speak of.

The unnamed space hulk was an impressive sight even in its devastation. Its surface marred with great rifts and craters from plasma shots and railgun impacts from the Kor'vattra, but still its engines roared and burned with great intensity. From its agglomeration protruded the prows and towers of ships and asteroids, warped into one by malefic energies of the Warp and stranger powers still. Even as battles were fought and loss within it and outside of it in the hard vacuum of space, there still lingered secrets within the space hulk's depths best left undisturbed.

One of them was awake and in hiding, having prowled through the space hulk's halls long before the orks had even come aboard. It had survived demon incursions and extermination missions carried out by the various races of the galaxy, and now it sensed its long wait would be over. With speed and wit it crawled through the ducts, the vents, the many, many crawling and creeping spaces that shift and turn as the space hulk' mass moves around by the will of greater forces, be they of the physical world or of the Warp.

The path in its mind was one that would lead it into a once derelict escape capsule, refurbished and expanded by Grozbakh's Meks into a drop pod. It gave a low hiss as its senses registered sentries about, around five or six Boyz mucking about with two Nobz squaring up for a fight. It was a common sight, which irked the alien infiltrator to no end. It considered killing them all before more could come, but then an alarm blared to life, the alien tensing as it prepared to fight.

The Boyz and Nobz gathered together and after a brief period of affirming their crude hierarchy, set out from the room and off into the space hulk's depths. The alien knew of the intruders, having gone to study them at a safe distance. It found the ones of blue colorations ripe for infiltration, their weak constitutions and ignorance of psychic powers being things it could exploit to burrow deeper into their world. Even their technology would not save them from the coming of the Great Devourer.

But the others, those it could not sense any life whatsoever, as well as the other kinds of organics, it sensed danger. It was not a concrete alert, simply a vague sensation akin to how the heat of lava informs you of its ability to scorch flesh. Even as it salivated over the thought of fresh genetic material from the varied organics, it hesitated as the refined instincts of a million, million worlds worth of extinct prey called out in alarm. This was not quarry it could handle on its own, no. It would have to bide its time and wait, as always, gathering power at a world ripe for being subsumed.

So now it crawls out, perfectly camouflaged against the space hulk's ancient ruination, standing up on two legs and, for a moment, assumed the affectations of civilization. Four eyes moved independent of one another, taking note of their own objectives as two pairs of arms beneath followed their commands. Buttons were pressed, commands injected, and on one occasion, a stray connector or two plugged back in. The true machinery within the control console whirred in compliance, its bastard ork parts struggling to resist or assist, the alien did not know.

With a great surge of electricity, the drop pod activated proper, its internal systems flickering to life on scratched and cracked displays all around. A big red button was placed at the console on the far end of the drop pod from the entrance, its function obvious. The alien entered it and took note of weak points where impact from projectiles were most likely to crack through the armor. It prepared accordingly, anatomy restructured for impact and heat resistance. After that, it pressed the big red button and waited.

Ork machinery whined and groaned and sparked, and one even exploded to the alien's consternation, but it worked all the same. There was weightlessness for a moment, and then there was the speed that crushed lesser bodies apart. The alien growled as it crouched closer to the drop pod's floors, its limbs sinking their talons deep into the steel, finding purchase easily. When it seemed like the weight would go on forever, it stopped and the alien preened in triumph as it remained unmoving, anchored by its superior strength.

From the few armaglass ports present in the drop pod, the light of stars shone on the alien's chitinous body. On one, Au'Taal Prime glittered, alight with the glow of cities and battles fought, both on the ground and in the void of space. Ork Roks and Kroozers doggedly fight against Lar'Shi Cruisers and Kir'Qath Escorts, Barracudas fighting their ork counterparts in engagements by the hundreds. Somehow the drop pod survived through them all, the alien bracing for the easy part of its perilous escape from the space hulk.

No one paid the ork drop pod much mind, seeing as there were thousands of them entering the atmosphere in great waves at a time. It landed with little fanfare, the alien within having made the necessary course adjustments beforehand. With great force the unknown invader burst out of the drop pod, three pairs of limbs stalking upon the ground of a new world unprepared for its arrival. It will fall like all the others.

The Genestealers will ensure it.

---

Commander Spiderstrike watched the Ascentrons work with a mix of curiosity and wariness, his own team spread out on overwatch duty at the many entryways into the vast space they were all in. It was not an enviable position to be in, as the orks could very well ambush them in any number of ways. But Spiderstrike would endure, as would his team as they always have when facing the greenskin hordes.

Tremors run through the floor, up the walls and across the ceiling, coming in at shorter and shorter intervals, and yet nothing shook loose inside the room. It was a power plant complex, the center of which contained a powerful and ancient reactor of unknown make. There were many of these within the space hulk, but only this one had what appeared to be a bomb strapped to the reactor core. By itself, this wouldn't have been something surprising to find in a space hulk claimed by the orks, but there was a bomb.

Apparently whatever it was, if left to explode, would threaten Au'Taal Prime even if the space hulk was diverted from its current trajectory simply by sheer proximity to the blast. That's what the Ascentrons told him, anyway, and in the absence of any Earth Castes to dispute the facts, Spiderstrike was forced to concede the bomb's defusal efforts to the T'au's newest allies. It still unnerved him how each Ascentron could, at a moment's notice, fulfill roles that would mark a T'au as vash'ya and up for censure.

The Fire Caste Commander forced his mind to focus on the task at hand. It was not his place to think about aliens except on how to kill them. And Spiderstrike doubt such a mental exercise would do any good anyway, not with how efficient the Ascentrons waged combat. They minimized their shields to only protect parts that would be hit and no more, and any ork whose hits connected to armor would not do so again before the Ascentrons struck back. Even those with bodies of flesh were monsters of a different kind, muscles designed for combat paired with like augmentations meant blows that struck faster than sight and the agility to sidestep plasma bolts with ease.

Something about that sight struck Spiderstrike as being reminiscent of the T'au's own combined force with the Kroot, but vastly better. He could see it now, a thousand years in the future, of a T'au Empire ever in ascendance and triumphant over all foes. The legions of battlesuits marching to the protection of all in service to the Greater Good, their pilots no longer T'au but AIs, loyal forevermore and effective. Besides them would be the Ascendant Kroot, with baselines up to par with the human gue'ron'sha and only going up from there. The vision passed as quickly as it came, but Spiderstrike had committed it to memory. For once, the Fire Caste Commander was grateful for his perfect recall.

A soft click alerted Spiderstrike to a message from his second-in-command, Middlesword. The Fire Caste Commander read it briefly and sighed at the contents. The Shas'El had requested to take half of the team with him to secure the evacuation routes, notwithstanding the fact that any way out at the moment would be filled with a tide of angry greenskins excited for a fight.
Spiderstrike understood Middlesword' distrust of the Ascentrons perfectly, but he did not let it blind him to the practicals of the situation at hand. The T'au were caught unprepared, under-strength, and outnumbered a thousand to one by infantry alone. It was inevitable of course that the be'gel horde would be repelled in time, as the T'au homeworld was but a stone's throw away, but how many would die until then? Au'Taal Sept would never be the same.

Any further ruminations were interrupted as reports started coming in from the cadre-net as well as the Ascentron's own network. The orks were here, their arrival heralded by a cacophony of roars, hoots, and laughter. There were whirrings of ork machines led by Meks, and the growls of blind squigs whose herders have never seen starlight from their birth. They were everywhere, and still the Ascentrons were not done with their disarmament of the ork bomb.

"All units, take your positions as planned. Assume Kau'yon stratagems and make these be'gel pay for what they have done." Five golden glyphs replied in affirmation, the T'au taking up flanking positions all around the reactor room where their weapons would reap the most damage. They took care to hide behind cover where one could be found, having spent the time waiting for the orks to come creating choke points from random junk to slow down the greenskin horde.

The Ascentrons, on the other hand, were much more bold in their strategy, vanguards coming up front with Drakescale Shields and Dark Matter Deflectors at the ready, while mobile gun-nests swiveled their Stormfire Autocannons and Gauss Cannons into overlapping killzones wherein no orks would survive unharmed. There were no barriers to entry here, only a wide open space where death waited.
Spiderstrike spared a glance at the two Ascentrons tasked with disabling the bomb. They were definitely working faster now, their limbs and tools scouring through the bomb's surface and insides. An Ascentron took up post near the two as their guard, Gamma Lasers and Plasma Cannons at the ready to eliminate any foe that came too close for comfort.

The first orks that came in were numerous, dressed in rags and scraps, and carried rusted choppas and smoking shootas. They died quickly, their bodies pushed aside by their allies behind them in the mad rush for combat. Dozens of grots accompanies them, forced into battle by their uncaring masters and dying much the same. 'Ard Boyz behind the dead mass carried in front of them shields forged from the space hulk's innards, turning aside most of the firepower brought to bear. Spiderstrike cursed as Shas'Vre Novastrike beat a hasty retreat, his Flamer no longer effective against the thick armor plates.

It was a very orkish attack, and yet Spiderstrike couldn't help but feel tense. His lessons with Puretide told him that for all the orks' primitive savagery, their cunning intellect is a tool rarely used, but never to be discounted. And one such mind was showing their hand here, by forcing the T'au and Ascentron into wasting their ammunition on low-value targets, before pushing forward with armored infantry. Arrogance will be the undoing of many this day. Spiderstrike grimly thought as he sent a wordless warning to his T'au team members to watch out for unconventional ork tactics.
In the space hulk, gravity was not a constant force, which in the power plant's vast space was utilized in full by both the Ascentron and the T'au. The XV-46 was far less agile than its more reputable XV-8 cousins despite its smaller stature, but it was fast enough to dodge the ork' haphazard shooting. Spiderstrike shot his Fusion Blasters true at the armored Nobz and sprayed his Burst Cannon at the unarmored Boyz.

On the other side of the room, Ascentrons warbodies sounded challenges returned in kind by the orks. More of the greenskins pored out from the uncontested entry points, but lived only seconds longer after a certain point, cut down by overwhelming firepower. The orks answer was even more armor; a veritable wall of 'Ard Boyz supplemented by an array of mobile force fields, manned by Meks and their acolytes, cybork bodyguards at the ready to lay down their lives at the slightest hint of danger towards their master.

This was a battle of attrition, and the orks were endless. Spiderstrike spared no thought to that fact, even as it stayed at the back of his mind. A bevy of stimulants and other chemical cocktails concocted by the Earth Caste run thick in his veins, in his lungs, in his heart, and in his brain most of all. He was seeing the world in slow-motion, the Battlesuit controls speeding up to keep up with his accelerated state. It was not a state that could be kept up for long, and only his training and experience has allowed him to weather the crash out right after from killing him by a moment's mistake.

He felt anger most keenly in this battle, not least by his hatred of the be'gels and their wicked ways, but also at the death toll of civilians no doubt being ravaged by the war right now. Spiderstrike roared, and the XV-86 flipped over a crowd of Boyz carrying Rokkit Launchers as well as a Loota with a Deffgun firing away wildly at every target that wasn't green. His Burst Cannon downed two Boyz and crippled the rest, but by some luck the Loota managed to bring his weapon around and empty the clip. The battlesuit's shields put up a valiant effort before finally falling before the barrage of bullets, Spiderstrike hurriedly pulling away before even the fio'tak armor fell prey to the Loota' lucky spray. A bevy of alarms came from every system, but he ignored it, letting the on-board AI handle things while he kept his mind focused on the chaos all around.

The battle has only just begun.

---

Bombom watched the battle unfolding below with some interest, but not as much as the target he's set for himself. After he had come through the green portal, the Kommando made quick time getting to Reaktor Kore 24, slipping past some T'au teams and Ascentron squads that were also going the same way as he was. A primal bloodlust thrummed in him and it took Bombom every bit of willpower he had not to turn around and ambush his prey then and there. No, he was a better Kommando than that, even if every ork in the galaxy thought otherwise. Zog everyone who thinks sneakin' around ain't orky; they just never saw the look on an 'umie's face when you jump out of your hiding spot and kill them without getting so much as a shot in.

He entered Reaktor Kore 24 and took a second taking in the vastness of everything before getting right down to work. The wide open spaces might seem like they had nowhere to hide for anybody, but that's grot talk. There were plenty of vertical things to climb on, and Bombom saw right away the best place to hide in the entire room. He ran up to the center and with some effort and some climbing gear made from squig parts, the Kommando managed to haul himself up past Da Bomb encircling the titular Reaktor Kore and into a kind of crevice where ancient technicians might have come around checking if everything was all right every now and then, but no one came here now, which made it perfect for a hiding spot.

Bombom laid down then, putting over himself a cloak made from the hide of a Lictor that had thought itself better at sneaking about in a space hulk. The dead flesh shimmered at the Kommandos touch, turning into a perfectly camouflaged patch of its surroundings. And so with perfect discipline anomalous to the orks, Bombom waited, watching as the T'au and Ascentrons came, as the latter realized the true nature of Da Bomb and attempted to disable it, and still continued watching as Boyz of all kinds with some Nobz crashed into the killzones laid out by the T'au and Ascentrons with glee. He should be there, his ork blood howled in disdain at Bombom' stillness. He should be killing and stabbing and murdering everyone on sight, like a proper ork. But Bombom never was the best at being orky, and he was fine with it. What mattered to him then, now, and in the future, was that he's the sneakiest Kommando to have ever lived in ork history.


And now he was going to prove it again, as his target struggled to make sense of the ork nonsense that was Da Bomb crafted by Mog with some begrudging help from the other Meks under Warlord Grozbakh's control. The Ascentron in question was an organic, an Arthropod with two pairs of wings that were beating in concert with each other perfectly to keep her hovering in place. She had a partner at her side, another organic Ascentron, but Plantoid, keeping himself anchored by way of roots clinging tenaciously onto the Reaktor Kore' side. At the start of battle they had a robotic Ascentron standing guard, but even he had to pull away to help his peers, which gave Bombom an opening.


Slipping Big Gutta' out of its sheath, the Kommando licked his lips, his free limbs adjusting themselves for the pounce that was about to happen. But just as Bombom was about to jump, his instincts screamed at him to dodge, and the ork did, narrowly missing a pair of blades materializing out of the air. The Kommando growled, half-expecting to see one of his rival Kommandos taking their shot at the king, but no, it was another organic Ascentron.

It was a Molluscoid, with cybernetic enhancements to rival a Cybork's own with how extensive it was. What had appeared to be blades disentangled into tentacles, tipped with Drake scales and laced with venom. The Ascentron's large black eyes met Bombom's own reddish-white, cold focus against burning rage. The two foes sized one another, all thoughts of battle besides their own set aside for this one duel.

At a glance, it seemed obvious Bombom would win, as his own bulk, though leaner than most orks, was still several times more than the Molluscoid Ascentron' own watery flesh. But still the Kommando stayed his ground, Big Gutta' splayed out at his side, ready to attack and defend at a moment's notice. His Lictor Cloak helped hide most of his profile, but the Ascentron' own innate transparency flipped that advantage right back at Bombom.

"Fuckin' grotshit sneaky gitz." Bombom cursed, his ork mind roaring for a straight scrap with the grot that spoiled his hunt. The Kommando complied and did one better, slashing out with Big Gutta' as though it was a choppa one size smaller. At the same time, his free hand grabbed one of his Kustom Stikkbombs and held it out, aiming to plant it at the Ascentron' side while they were busy dodging Big Gutta'. To Bombom' rising ire, both his masterful choppawork and hidden ploy was seen through by the Ascentron Molluscoid, who weaved through every attack and even sneaked in some of their own, which the Greenskin noticed a bit too late.

Without hesitation, Bombom took out some purple powder he got from a Dok and smeared it all over his cuts, gritting his teeth through the incandescent pain. Ascentron venom and greenskin mycotoxins met and battled one another through ork cells, earning the Kommando a reprieve as he left the fate of his body behind to the hands of Gork and Mork. The only death an ork fears is one met while out of battle, and win or lose, Bombom will make damn sure this foe will remembers his name.

The Kommando suddenly flung three Stikkbombs at once, his body straight towards the Ascentron. The Ascentron, accessing its options, suddenly took flight, catching Bombom off-guard for but a moment. He took out his Slugga and let out one shot, the heavy caliber bullet bouncing off an invisible shield. Bombom shot again and his aim went wide. On the third try his Slugga jammed, so Bombom tossed the thing towards the Ascentron.

By this point, his Stikkbombs had finally landed, one going off as expected, with two seeming duds bouncing off the Reaktor Kore's roof and lay in disuse by the wayside. That part of his kunnin' plan would come later, once Bombom had his foe thoroughly convinced that the greenskin had no other way to attack than with his Big Gutta' and however many Stikkbombs he had left. And oh did the Kommando play his part right, roaring and shouting and throwing explosives left and right, with one Stikkbomb even managing to catch a flying T'au by surprise. That grot got his shit kicked in promptly before his allies could pull him back to safety.

The Ascentron was no slouch either, daringly slipping in-between Bombom' wide strokes and carving up green skin wherever its tentacles went by. More venom means more powders of mycotoxin, which meant an angrier and more frenzied Bombom. He held on to his mind by sheer force of will, but even that was running out. And then he saw the dud Stikkbombs right behind the Ascentron, a single choppa throw away.

With a mighty roar the Kommando threw Big Gutta' right at his foe, grinning like a treasure-struck grot at the Ascentron moving up and away from the choppa, permitting it to strike a dud Stikkbomb true and detonate its payload. A bright flash of light blinded the Ascentron, before an equally loud bang deafened them. Its tentacles flailed wildly in an attempt at defense, a paltry one to circumvent for Bombom. The Kommando grabbed Big Gutta' and it screamed through the air, growling as it met the Ascentron' shield before it was suddenly through, carving through molluscoid flesh with disgusting ease. The Kommando waited for his prey to scream, to struggle, to give him that sweet, sweet music of pain before death comes, but the Ascentron stood stock still, as still as a statue even as their blood painted the floor black.

Still triumphant, Bombom failed to see the shimmering field floating away from the Ascentron, but his instincts didn't, reflexes moving the ork's body in an attempt to dodge from the coming blow. The Kommando' attempt to consciously register what his primal self already knew proved to be his undoing, as two Drake Blades pierced through the ork's back. One entered Bombom' heart, Ascentron venom triumphing at last against greenskin physiology

"Gud fight, grot." Bombom managed to say with a blood-filled mouth before collapsing forward, his Ascentron foe looking down at the Kommando with those same unblinking black eyes. A large cut decorated the Molluscoid' face and down to its neck; Bombom's last gift. With one last nod, the Ascentron faded from view, off to kill some more orks as the battle raged still in Reaktor Kore 24. And so ends the tale of Bombom Big Gutta', unnoticed in a pool of his own blood, guts, and enough purple Dok powder to down a whole Warband.

There were mixed reactions by the Ascentron when the call came to fight the ork menace. Some were excited to at last stretch their legs outside of the confines of their home/prison, while others were more cautious. But no one was in doubt that the Ascentron Circurrency would triumph, not when it looked like their enemy was just barely out of the pre-FTL era with their ramshackle equipment and shoddy weapons and primitive tactics. Such notions were quickly shattered upon first contact, however, for what was lacking in all the things the Ascentrons found important, the orks more than made up for it in their sheer talent for war in every aspect.

In the greater scheme of things, the Ork Invasion of Au'Taal Sept was doomed. The T'au Empire would have no doubt learned of their transgression and even now in the void of space between stars were grand fleets of retribution, of purgation that the T'au held in reserve for those who would threaten them with annihilation. It is perhaps in this that a core teaching of the galaxy was taught to the T'au by the orks, as ludicrous as it may sound.

Might makes right.

For Squad Leader Zephyr Tu, though, that lesson was old news. He had, for a time in the Ascentron's home universe, been part of the less scrupulous parts of galactic society. He stole, cheated, swindled, deprived, raided, and so on to his hearts' content. He was, in the words of a wandering preacher Zephyr Tu robbed at gunpoint, an unrepentant scoundrel of the lowest moral fiber imaginable. The then Mammalian took offense to that and stripped the poor fool naked and left him to the world's tender mercies. In Zephyr Tu's mind, a scoundrel was a passing fool everyone ignored, while he, with his various misdeeds, was obviously a villain. The best villain money can buy, in fact, which was why he took that contract by the Ascentron Circurrency to be their personal monster and never looked back.

At Reaktor Kore 24, a tiny sliver of doubt began to form at the back of Zephyr' mind as he blasted apart a mob of Slugga Boyz with one well-placed shot from his Plasma Cannon. No, it wasn't the beginnings of a conscience, as much as his company-mandated therapist might rejoice at that news. He had laughed once at an ex-therapist who suggested he try to put himself in someone else' shoes, given that the man had tried that once; blown some nobody right out of their footwear and took the smoking wrecks for a spin. It didn't end well for everybody.

But burning plastics aside, there really was something that bothered the perspicacious psychopath. Zephyr thought it might be because of the Warp; an analogue to the Shroud back home, but considerably much more hellish and actively malicious. It was a hole in his chest, unrelated to actual one that bore within it the main shield generator for his current warbody. Or perhaps a void would be a better descriptor, a vacuum parading around in the guise of an Ascentron citizen called Zephyr Tu.

Perhaps that's why the Shroudwalker and her acolytes avoided me. Zephyr sagely nodded to himself while killing all the while. He dialed up his perception until everything slowed down to a crawl, studying the way his Gamma Laser bore through a line of orks down into the depths of the space hulk from which they came. He found the way their flesh cooked to a reddish sear to be amusing, and let himself be brought back to normal speed by the inbuilt safeties inherent to all Ascentron robotic bodies.

Where most found battle to be the most stressful time of their life, Zephyr instead found clarity and calm as he let his instincts and experience take over. He stomped on the heads of orks that got too close, and made a point of contemptuously turning aside Nobz with ease like they were grots. As expected, this display served to rile up the greenskins even more, earning Zephyr Tu more than his fair share of greenskin fodder to carve through. A word then came to the forefront of the Ascentron's mind, one that aptly described what he was feeling best.

Boredom. This trifling purgation of alien filth did not register in Zephyr's mind anymore than what he had for dinner last night with his fellow friends of questionable wartime ethics. The only thing that could satisfy Zephyr Tu was a proper challenge by someone as deranged as he was, which really was just the average ork temperament, but none was giving the Ascentron a good fight. And then it hit him.

A tiny, scrabbling little thing, with eyes wide with madness and the strength that came with it. The snotling tore its fingers apart trying to scratch the Drakescale Armor that came standard with most Ascentron warbodies with the Vanguard configuration. Still, its manic episode did alert Zephyr Tu to a change in the situation even as his body disposed the snotling with the barest of effort. It had come from somewhere by the will of its ork master, and the Ascentron Squad Leader locked onto the sight of something even more ridiculous than everything he'd seen so far.

"What the fuck is that?!" An exclamation most apt for anyone the first time they see an ork's Shokk Attack Gun. Its wielder was OgZog, fused with the lower half of a Stompa bedecked with even more guns of questionable usefulness. The Mek's other gun-leg was attached to a Big Shoota, whose wild firing arcs had claimed more than a fair share of orks as the battle progressed. A bit further back, a Runtherd dutifully corralled hundreds of snotlings closer and closer to the sucking maw of the Shokk Attack Gun. And to cap it all off, each of OgZog's actual arms hefted Rokkit Launchers, aimed straight towards Zephyr Tu.

The missiles launched one after the other, slamming against the Ascentron Squad Leader's shields with greater impact than expected. A crackling of thunder boomed over even the din of battle, and then an arc of baleful lightning zapped towards Zephyr, finalizing into a hole of unreality from which another terrified snotling flew towards the Ascentron. Again and again, OgZog's unreleting waves of attack battered against Zephyr Tu's defenses and wreaking havoc everywhere else.

"Waaaaagghhhh!" The Mek roared as other orks responded in kind, their bulk seemingly swelling in real-time as the intensity of their attacks became blistering. Zephyr answered their call for violence, and many of his friends did as well, dealing death freely while the T'au fought for their lives. The Ascentron Squad Leader found his boredom wavering, but only just. He would win, eventually, as he has won every other fight in his life. He simply has to-

"WAAAAAGGHHHH!" That one guttural roar deafened everyone in the room, silencing even the rowdiest of orks into silence as the largest ork the Ascentrons and T'au present had ever seen stomped into view. It was a Gargant in spirit, for though he was wearing enough armor for the titular ork walker, Warlord Grozbakh was still well and truly flesh and blood, and he was angry. On his right hand was a Power Klaw, each bladed finger on the gauntlet as long as a T'au was tall and distorting the air with the telltale sign of a power field. On his left? A Shoota more at home in a gun emplacement than in the hands of an ork, and judging by the multiple barrels on the weapon, it was a Kombi-Weapon as well.

"YOU GROTZ ARE A BUNCH OF LAZY BUMS! DIS IZ HOW YOU CRUSH DEM PUNIES!" Grozbakh stepped up to fore, brushing aside the firepower now leveled towards him by the Ascentrons and terrified T'au by virtue of thick armor and a personal force field. Zephyr found himself standing taller, no longer giving much of a thought to any enemy except for this one, and his pertinence did not unnoticed.

"YOU! IMMA KRUMP YOU FIRST!" Zephyr's shields cried in protest as the Warlord's Power Klaw tore through them. Before the Ascentron could dodge further, Grozbakh' Kombi-Shoota belched out a ball of volatile plasma, slipping through the gap made earlier and landing square on Zephyr Tu' torso. The Ascentron winced as something akin to pain registered in his mind, Liquid Metal working in concert with the innate self-healing properties of Drakescale Armor to mitigate the damage even as it was being wrought.

Zephyr fired a plasma shot of his own, not as large but just as potent, crashing against Grozbakh's force field and finding no purchase before fizzling out. The Warlord laughed at his foe' apparent impotence, but it soon turned into a snarl as other weapons found their mark. Swarms of nano-missiles pour out of an Ascentron who had outfitted himself as a walking missile hive, and now he was directing the bulk of his attack swarming Grozbakh, distracting the Warlord long enough for Zephyr Tu to kill some enterprising Nobz looking to steal some glory from their boss.

He found himself smiling despite how close death was now to the Ascentron Squad Leader. That droll future of foregone victory was gone, now replaced with the uncertainty of pure combat decided by skill and experience, as well as the superiority of one's supporting elements against the foe's own forces. With every dodge out of the way of Grozbakh' Kombi-Shoota' line of fire, the Ascentron felt excitement at the thought of returning the favor tenfold. This was how life should be, on the edge, risking everything for a chance to win.

But first, let's get rid of the fodder so they can't interrupt my fun.Zephyr turned his attention towards OgZog fired short, pinpoint bursts from his Gauss Cannon. Every hit seemed to only hit armor, which greatly pleased the Mek before a loud crack was heard. Here and there where once was thick plating split from stresses caused by imperfections pushed to their limit, spreading even into the cybork parts OgZog had made for himself. Any further indignance by the Mek was cut short as Zypher slipped in a burst of precise shots right at the ork's throat, gouging a hole all the way to the top and over.

"You're next." Zephyr confidently asserted, before dodging yet another plasma shot by Grozbakh. The Warlord never liked OgZog, as he disliked Mek as a rule, but no one takes a kill from him. The Mega Armor whined as Grozbakh activated its Mega-Boostas, his movements now on par with the Ascentrons own grace. A swipe forward with the Power Klaw raked against Dark Matter Deflectors, the sheer mass of the blow punching through the repulsive forces and scoring piercing gouges against Drakescale Armor. Another near-hit turned into a glancing scrape, but even with a miss the damage was already done.

"AIN'T NOBODY KRUMPIN' OGZOG BUT ME!" Grozbakh pressed on, switching between firing bullets sized for artillery pieces with his Kombi-Shoota or carving out massive gouges through matter with his Power Klaw. Zephyr, in true Ascentron fashion, gambled on his warbody's durability by turning sure misses into near-hits, in turn using the opening made to return the favor. Stormfire and Gauss pounded against Force Field, while Gamma and Plasma sunk their claws deep into Mega Armor flesh.

While the duo were engrossed with their duel, with even the other orks steering clear in favor of easier prey, a Mek wheeled in a large bomb with the aid of cygrots and the like. Mog had come equipped for battle, his gaping mouth screwed shut and a coterie of combat arms fused into his spine; a recent addition done after a burst of inspiration by Mork. Those equipped with shootas acquired targets on their own, tentatively shooting several times before calming down at its owner's seeming apathy to the violence happening all around. Those with choppas at the end simply waited.

Mog stared at the still smoking body of OgZog and grinned despite the lock on his jaw. A Dok was starting their work on the corpse, no doubt inspired to try out one of their procedures to somehow bring the ork back to life. Mog hoped the Dok would fail, but he knew better than to interfere. Of the few things in life the Mad Mek felt threatened by, an irate Dok was somewhere near the top of that list. So he passed the impromptu operating theater by, and focused instead on placing his masterpiece somewhere it will hit everyone. Ideally, it would be somewhere at the center, but the Ascentrons would tear apart a bomb this big down to size if they knew it was coming.

Mog idly thought about a slew of launch mechanisms, before his eyes landed on what appeared to be a gift from Mork himself. An untouched, nearly intact rocket, its owners slumped by the side in what seemed to be their attempt to light it up cut short by Ascentron rockets. The Mek brushed their bodies aside and examined the rocket, checking the fuel gauge and finding it full. Laughing in his throat, the Mek ordered his slaves to begin the process of incorporating the E-M-P Bomb with the rocket, keeping watch in case another enterprising Mek had the 'bright' idea of swooping in and taking everything for himself.

While he waited, a grot stumbled over through the active battlefield carrying, of all things, a steaming kettle while another carried a set of delicate teaware that were certainly not ork-made. The duo cowered under Mog's shadow as they took a short rest, but soon got to work on serving a cup of hot tea, gently offered to the Mad Mek with as much grace that a grot can have. Mog took a critical eye to this offering, sniffed it briefly before, with the help of a free mechanical arm, took a small sip by way of his second mouth and let the heat and taste linger for a moment. Some nearby orks who'd seen what Mog had done gagged at such an un-orky display of elegance and moved to get out 'lest whatever the Mad Mek had infected them in turn.

Mog let their disapproval slide off like so much grog piss, as none of them had ever heard the words of Mork, much less Gork. Besides, the tea he was drinking was made from the ground up remains of human weirdboyz, mixed with powder shaved off some glowy rocks Mog got after a raid on an Aeldari ship. The stimulation he got was more than enough to compensate his mind from the revulsion it felt at carrying out the un-orky ritual of drinking the thing. By the time Mog had finished the kettle, his indentured servants had done their job, the E-M-P bot precariously attached to the rocket with orkish ingenuity and a whole lotta squig tape.

"Now, dat's how Mork likes it!" Mog nodded vigorously to himself before bounding over to the rocket and smashing the big red button on the rocket's side that turns everything on. Or causes it to explode. After a few seconds and a great deal of shaking, the mismash of rocket and bomb seemed to agree with one another, and went off like, well, a rocket. It hurtled pass the ork lines and into the Ascentrons, who realized too late what had just went by before the Mad Mek's creation exploded. The chemical explosion was secondary to the real effect, which was an unfettered burst of electromagnetic pulses, which wreaked havoc on every machinery in sight, but served only to temporarily disable the Ascentrons.

But in a battle, a second was a lifetime, and Zephyr Tu' momentary shutdown proved disastrous as his body finally felt the full brunt of Grozbakh's Power Klaw and Kombi-Shoota, Dark Matter Deflectors whining as they failed and Drakescale Armor cracking as parts of it turned into superheated goo. The Ascentron Squad Leader tried to push Grozbakh away with a simultaneous burst from all his weapons, but it was too little too late. There was no stopping the orkoid mass from tearing into the Zephyr Tu and claiming the first Ascentron casualty of the war.

The effect of his downfall was near-instantaneous to the other Ascentrons. It was an imperceptible change, as they fought still as trained soldiers are wont to do, but inside they were quite shaken. Something of this universe proved that tech alone could not surmount tactical advantage, not when the foe is an enigma of deceiving simplicity. With time, Zephyr Tu could be reclaimed and even resurrected, but an indelible wound had made its mark now. One seed of doubt sows many other, and in the Warp, a wicked beak smiled with too many teeth to count.

"WAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!" Grozbakh savaged the wreck of his first kill more with a joy of bloodlust Gork and Mork no doubt approved. His eyes turned soon to the other Ascentrons and the T'au, Power Klaw and Kombi-Shoota at the ready for more slaughter. But before he could step any further, the entire place shook with a groan like a dying void whale, cracks appearing where none had before. Several chunks broke free and crushed orks, while the T'au and Ascentrons retreated further into the center core, where two Ascentrons, left with the task of disarming bomb and reactor, finally finished their task in triumph. Only then did they became aware of all that had happened, and was happening, and with one last look at Zephyr Tu's body, hardened their hearts and put on a mask of indifference; a final shield against the horrors of war.

Amidst this disturbance, another crack appeared on one of the power plant's blocked entrances, widening by way of a drill that bore no bit. Its owner stepped through the hole in short order, with organic eyes studded throughout its body like gems. A fan of tail feathers sprouted on its shoulders from crystal growths, and corrupted Liquid Metal painted lurid scenes on a warbody made obscene.

Oberyn was his name.