Cast in Fire (WH40k Tau)

Author's notes: So, apparently this might be enough of a long term thing... Still plotting things out and not sure about the posting rate just yet. I'm pretty sure there'll be no lewds because I don't want to figure out tau genitals.

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In an observation room overlooking the training course, several figures looked down at the undertakings of a particular batch of younglings with distracted interest.

Most of the observers were attired in plain, body-covering suits and coats that served as a barrier against contamination between the stocky wearers and their environment. For that same purpose, their hooves were also encased in hardened rubber, while their hands were gloved in a thinner material that did not compromise the dexterity of their four digits.

A number of the observers stood a head taller than the rest and remained ramrod straight instead of hunching over dataslates like their academically inclined peers. Their hooves were bare but clean, and instead of lab coats they were garbed in simple brown fatigues that did not entirely hide their weathered blue skin. The stark contrast not only highlighted the differences between scientists and warriors, but also marked their castes within the Tau Empire working harmoniously together, for the Greater Good.

The stoic builders and researchers of the Earth Caste, who built and maintained the empire, and the warriors of the Fire Caste, who protected it. Alongside their cousins in the Air, Water, and esteemed Ethereal castes, each caste served indispensable roles in society, each caste just as important as the other in the functioning of their rapidly advancing civilization.

Presently, the duties of the doctors and military instructors were to oversee the growth and training of the Fire caste younglings that were conducting drills in the grounds below. And while they ensured that this coming generation would all receive sufficient attention and education to serve the Greater Good to the best of their abilities, most of their focus today was drawn towards one particular youngling.

"He is showing a better performance today," the Fire Caste head instructor, Shas'vre Iken'shi remarked flatly.

Her Earth Caste peer, Fio'vre Du'zan, gave a distracted nod, his bionic eyes fixated on the glowing dataslate in his hands, the metal fillings of his nasal cavity glinting as it reflected the light. "As hypothesized, the saal was able to overcome his affliction through the precise application of trauma. Forcing a sufficiently aggressive fight-or-flight response overcame his psychological maladies, at least momentarily." He lightly tapped on the dataslate before humming at the information retrieved. "Fio'el Hira has granted us permission to repeat the therapy, should he relapse."

There were a few discomforted shifting among Du'zan's team, and even Iken'shi flashed a grimace at the thought of receiving permission to override creche ethics as a form of extreme medicine.

Regardless of the thoughts that showed on her expression, she nodded grimly. "It will have to depend on the saal. For his sake, let us hope he fully overcomes his…mental malady."

Du'zan nodded along in wholehearted agreement. It would not only be harder to convince the youngling he was in mortal danger again after the first fallacy, but engineering a scenario just as dangerous as a rampaging frayhorn might result in collateral morale damage to the saal's crechemates. And while the geneticist did sympathize with the youngling's unnatural plight, neither he nor any of his fellow tau would unnecessarily endanger the rest of the creche.

Euthanizing a saal that's grown this much already, though uncommon, was still an option. For the Greater Good, the wellbeing of his creche mates, and the Fire Warriors the saal might end up joining.

A loud, blunt ping echoed from the training grounds, signalling the start of a team skirmish. The observers brought their attention to the window and view screens as the creche was divided into groups of twelve, a maximal-strength Fire Warrior team, and were ushered by drones to their designated spots within the maze of a simulated urban battlefield.

Iken'shi narrowed her eyes and softly clicked her tongue in disapproval as she noted team disunity, mistakes in formation, or lax weapons and armor discipline. Her shas'ui secondaries focused on the teams' chatter through their dataslates to capture particular snatches of conversation that would serve as case studies in the future.

In the meantime, the Earth Caste observers switched their gazes from the screens to their own datapads, tracking twenty team's worth of armor telemetry, vital signatures, brain wave patterns, and more. This mock combat utilized shock-grade pulse munitions which, though non-lethal, could still maim or cripple in rare, unfortunate cases. The photon stun grenades were unmodified though, so it was each trainee's responsibility to ensure that their helmets were properly fastened.

The heat of combat might also cause the young, inexperienced saals to act recklessly or disregard their training. Both Du'zan and Iken'shi had seen their share of freak accidents, more often than not beyond the observer drones' view. Sometimes a sudden spike in heart rate or brain activity was all the warning they got of a youngling collapsing because they decided to remove their stifling helmet or armor in the illusory safety of a room or cave, before catching a stray pulse shot. Iken'shi had heard of at least two occasions where simulated battlefields claimed the lives of careless saals, with flying debris piercing an unprotected head, or collapsing walls crushing the unwary.

If anything unforeseen were to happen, then it would be up to the observers to call off the training to allow rescue operations. A push of a button was all that was needed to summon the drones and call for an immediate cessation to the training. A push of that button could be all the difference between a saal suffering a freak accident and a whole team exacerbating the tragedy.

After several raik'ors of preparation, another loud ping reverberated through the observation room, and the teams in the training grounds burst into action. While the Earth Caste observers concerned themselves with the data determining the health of each youngling, their Fire Caste cousins took notes of laudable or disappointing decisions made by each aspiring Fire Warrior.

A couple of heads were shaking at a screen as a team's clumsy execution of taking a blind corner, and nobody was surprised when they ran into a concealed position and lost half their members.

On another screen, a saal was curled up behind cover, his pulse rifle shaking in his hands while his teammates traded unnecessarily furious fire against an opposing team instead of withdrawing to a more favorable position. Sure enough, a hail of pulse grenades moments later signalled the arrival of a third team, who swiftly brought down their blinded and deafened opponents in an excellent ambush.

As Iken'shi filed away the various infractions and commendations, her experienced eye inevitably shifted towards the saal with the mysterious mental affliction.

Or had the affliction.

He almost seemed like a completely different tau now. Gone were the jerky, stumbling steps that often led to a fall, or the intermittent hand spasms that suddenly dropped whatever was in them. He moved with surety, no longer looking down at his limbs every other raik'an to operate them correctly.

There were hints of the affliction lingering though, particularly when the saal came to a stop for any length of time. Iken'shi noted the occasional twitch of a leg, or a hand being clenched before returning to grip his rifle.

Iken'shi found herself feeling a surge of second-hand pride at the youngling's accomplishment. From struggling to walk, to scampering hastily away from a frayhorn, to now keeping up with his team and darting from cover to cover, the change was astounding.

If the instructor had an interest for philosophy, she could probably find an inspiring proverb from the Sio't texts that might relate the saal's transformation to finding enlightenment in the Tau'va. Something about getting in one's own way and self-imposed shackles.

Maybe she'll talk with Du'zan about sending the youngling's records to the Por'Hui reporters. It could be a tale worthy of inspiring other saals and even line troopers who might have their own struggles.


Focus on the breathing.

Ignore the feet.

Focus on what you can see.

Ignore the void on the face.

"Clear!"

I tensed at the familiar voice and stamped down on the phantom pressure at the end of my hands as I tightened my grip on my rifle.

Focus on the present, not the complications.

I have four fingers, not five. I have dewclaws and hooves, not soft toes and landed heels.

I am tau, not human.

There was the soft crunching of approaching hoofsteps. They were moving very cautiously, which meant that they weren't exactly sold on my teammates fleeing, which was bad.

The crunching stopped; maybe to give the broken alleyway a better look over, or maybe to discuss their next move now that they were in cover.

It didn't matter, the time wasn't right yet.

I put my full attention on what I could hear: the soft crackle of shifting debris around me, the occasional crunch of hoof on pavement, the faint thrum of my helmet's systems, the hissing of my breath, the slow beats of my heart… Anything to keep my mind on the mission, instead of acknowledging the annoying itch that reminded me that my toes were weirdly spaced and angles, or that I had a void in the center of my face because of the shio'he that replaced a nose, or that-

Damnit, stop thinking about all of that already!

More crunching, and it sounded like they were on the move again. Following after my teammates, or finding better quarry.

I made doubly sure that the sounds were moving away from my position before forcing myself upwards and forwards to burst through the pile of rubble that had buried me in a small depression between alley wall and pockmarked ground. As pebbles and grit fell away from my helmet's visor though, I did not see my enemies' backs.

I saw the lenses of their helmets and the fronts of their carapace armor instead. They were all facing me, their guns raised in my direction.

Not exactly at me, a small part of my brain noticed, but at the wall above me. They were expecting an ambush, but not from below. It was the slimmest advantage I had; it'd take them precious rai'kans to lower their aim.

Rai'kans that allowed my hooves propelled me well clear from my hiding spot, and for my rifle to lunge at the nearest opponent like a spear. In the drawn out instant of surprise it took my opponents to shift their aim, my finger pulled on the trigger, and I felt the pulse rifle shudder in my hands as a crackling burst of energy spat out the muzzle.

The saal before me crumpled to the ground in a soft yelp as the shock round slammed into her center mass with an angry fizzle and did what it said on the tin. I fell into a roll, clutching my weapon as the drills had taught me, and tumbled towards my victim before seven rifles could lock onto me.

I managed to get behind the fallen saal who had remained still and played dead as per the rules of this training. My enemies shifted with clear annoyance when I lifted the 'corpse' up and propped her against me as a shield.

"This is uncouth…" I heard my huma- tau shield mutter through her helmet.

Of course, her comrades began fanning out to surround and get a clear shot of me. And of course, I hurriedly backed away with an awkward shuffle. One of them spoke out, the amused voice of a well acquainted crechemate. "I knew to expect cunning tricks from you, but this is…impressive, friend."

"Friend'?" I chuckled back as I yanked my corpse shield around, to stall them getting a clear shot on me. "Not a snae'ta?"

He managed to shrug while keeping his rifle on me. "We don't dislike you enough for that, I think."

"Don't we?" another crechemate-enemy joined in. "I think we should put it to a vote."

"After we put him down," my friend agreed cheerily.

I stared at his expressionless helmet for a moment, straight at the red optics, and slowly stopped moving, ignoring the sigh of relief of the 'dead' crechemate. "It was a good tactic, though. It caught all of you offguard."

He barely disturbed his aim as he shrugged again. "I thought the cracks on the walls were too convenient, and that you'd break through them. Admittedly I didn't think you'd spring out from the ground like some dune stinger."

With that apparently final statement, I heard the soft clicks as seven fingers went for the triggers of their pulse rifles. Playing along, I gently dropped the faux corpse.

"A final word, if you'd allow it?" I asked my crechemates, and they shared a subtle glance before my friend nodded.

"Make it quick. We're wasting time as it is."

A shame my helmet was obscuring my smile. "Why did you think I was the only one hiding?"

I ducked as the walls from where I was hiding beneath truly exploded this time, as the three members of my team who'd stuck around with me finally revealed themselves. The air was filled with the hiss-sparks of shock rounds, and in a few raik'ans the fight was over.

"Took you long enough," I told my teammates through my helmet's comms.

"We thought there'd be more of them," one replied too easily.

Another gave a shrug. "I also hoped they'd actually shoot you, so our channel would finally be free from all your yapping."

"I was offering suggestions," I retorted. "Besides, this worked, didn't it?"

I accepted the begrudging grunt with grace and we quickly moved to salvage the ammunition off our 'dead' opponents.

"Please don't let this brief moment cloud your vote of me, friend," I told my friend as I ransacked his ammunition and grenades off him.

"It won't," he whispered aloud through the local comms. "Snae'ta."

"You're being petty."

"Doesn't matter," another corpse interjected. "Snae'ta."

"Snae'ta," the other unmoving bodies joined in dryly.

"Can we vote too?" my comrade chimed in with some excitement, and then pointed at me with childish gravitas. "Snae'ta."

"Fine, be that way," I huffed with feigned offense.

"Enough of that, you lot." A new voice suddenly entered our comms, causing all of us, victors and faux-corpses alike, to freeze with something approaching fear. Vre'Iken'shi was her usual sharp and stern self as she scolded our two groups. "La'Rua Six, remain still until the drones come for you. As for you four, keep moving; remember that you have teammates that still require your assistance."

"Yes, shas'vre," all twelve of us droned in unison.

"And no, your crechemate it not a snae'ta." I felt some foreboding as I could hear the amusement in her tone. "That will only be determined after we evaluate this encounter during the after action reviews along with everyone else."

It took eight tau'cyrs - four Tau (the homeworld, not the species) standard years - before I and most of my crechemates graduated from the rank of 'saal' to 'la'. Four tau'cyrs of drills, simulations, lectures, receiving and processing didactic grafts, and the odd parade assembly for the por'hui media to add to the propaganda network.

Four tau'cyrs of coming to terms with the fact that I did not have mangled feet, missing fingers, or a mutilated face.

And credit to the creche overseers, they did what they could to accommodate my acclimatisation, even if they didn't exactly know why the on-paper perfectly healthy youngling was spazzing out. I underwent a myriad of tests, medication, and therapies under the puzzled and concerned gazes of the shas'vre and fio'vre. In the end, what did the trick was a scare tactic that let my tau body's survival instincts smother my existential dread.

After fleeing from an oversized moose-thing, I no longer felt the phantom pains of supposedly running on the very tips of my misaligned toes. There was no room to care which human finger I was missing on my tau hands, nor did the increased senses of my nasal cavity distract me anymore. Under the fear of death, all those hangups about comparing my previous body to this one were revealed to be nothing but petty hindrances.

My quick 'recovery' had been celebrated in a quiet fashion. My crechemates traded friendly snarks about no longer having to sandbag their performances for my sake, or challenged me to beat their records. A fio'ui strutted with a sense of satisfaction and relief as she paraded the mobility aid she'd crafted for me to the waste processing room. Shas'vre Iken'shi dragged me through the obstacle course, remaining just behind me as I ran, climbed, and crawled through several laps. Then I think she lauded my will and determination to my crechemates as my exhausted and half-conscious body was dragged away.

It was quite a big deal for every tau in the battledome; No longer being an invalid meant that I could more freely find my place in the Tau'va, the Greater Good, beyond a vehicle pilot's control cocoon or from behind the console of a 'tactical guide' - basically a radio operator, from what I understood of that role.

Being celebrated like that was completely unnerving. The relief and cheer was completely genuine, as if it was announced that I've beaten cancer or something.

It was one of many things I got used to eventually over the kai'rotaas - the tau's equivalent to months. Beyond the whole Greater Good ideology that loomed over everything, tau sensibilities were weird.

The language was an easy thing to grasp, as was the strict distinction between castes. Then there was the adjustment to the society of a species that only needed two decs of sleep at most for every rotaa - a couple of hours of sleep per day. The longer overall working day kind of made up for the tau's shorter lifespan of fifty or so tau'cyrs.

There was also the weird collectivist economy that provided pretty much every essential need to live, but also had some sort of gift-giving or bartering system going on, and a currency that had limited options to be spent on. Apparently the credit chits would see more use if or when interacting with the other races 'allied' to the tau.

I'd be able to get a better grasp of the economics of that after I leave the battledome-creche.

And then there was the fact that the tau were very rarely born with a name. As saals, we somehow got by with simply addressing each other directly, and there was this sense of knowing when you were spoken to when the instructors and battledome staff were talking.

Names were only handed out only upon distinguishing oneself or as a sign of potential, though the former is more common.

And what do you know, a shas'saal's first Trial by Fire, basically a three dec long battle simulation of an exam, happened to be a distinguishing enough event to earn their first name.

I stood in line, perfectly still and at attention, no longer too conscious about how weird my stubby hoof toes felt compared to having a flatter foot to the point of wobbling. My mind barely acknowledged how the muscles of my nasal cavity pulsed and shifted, or the dry air that rushed through it.

There was a sharp rap of armored hooves as a fellow saal fell back into formation, standing beside me as equally spaced apart as everyone else, no longer worried about having to swoop in to catch me during my episodes of existential dread. He stood straighter, prouder, and I could practically smell the satisfaction radiating off him as he digested his awarded name. His crimson armor also seemed to gleam brighter, as if infected by the mood.

I felt the gaze of Shas'Vre Iken'shi shift onto me. As with the saals before me, she gave the barest of nods, and I marched out onto the stage to stand before her and the other dignitaries.

"Shas'saal," purred a slender tau who stood between Vre'Iken'shi and Vre'Du'zan. Dressed in plain white robes that could very well radiate purity, and bearing a gilded scepter, Aun'ui Iyel had decided to grace this graduation ceremony. It was our first exposure to the honored Ethereal Caste, and for many, their awe and attention still lingered solely on her. My own thoughts were put on pause for an uncomfortably long while when she first appeared on stage, and there was the urge to cling onto her every word.

It was a strange obsession, calming yet demanding, emotionless yet fascinating.

The ethereal did not demand attention, all attention just naturally focused onto her. There was nothing out of place with the warm bloom of reassurance or the hypnotic sense of contentment. The aun'ui was a beacon of purpose and serenity, a physical extension of the Tau'va not to be venerated, but respected and heeded. Proof positive of the good and rightness of what the Tau strove for.

It was an utterly foreign sensation, and one that disturbed the dark corners of my mind.

But for now, I could only offer a military salute by thumping my left fist against the sept symbol - the state emblem - on my chest, and then bowing deeply out of respect for the higher rank the ethereal possessed.

Ui'Iyel spoke again, and I had to fight against my tau sensibilities to stop my awareness from tunnel-visioning. "Your evaluation is inspiring, shas'saal. To overcome a debilitating malady, and not only catching up with your fellows but also excelling in certain fields…"

The words left me before I could even think about them. "I am most honored by your praise, exalted one."

I could almost physically feel the pulse of satisfaction from the ethereal, which in turn reflected in my own impulsive contentment.

"Good. You accept the honor, rather than affect false humility. Rise, shas'saal."

And the dark, un-tau corners of my mind were flooded with alarm as I instantly stood straight again. There was no hesitation, not even a fraction of a rai'kan to process the order. My blinking and shifty eyes met the ethereal's gaze, beatific orbs that held compassion and purpose.

And there was a tinge of amusement too.

"Do not worry, young one. Your…bouts of unorthodoxy will not be held against you."

And she didn't call me out on the fear in the back of my head, so the worries about mind reading was put to rest at least. Hopefully.

I managed a quick glance to the other shas and fios on the stage, who only acknowledged my attention with narrowed eyes that leaked satisfaction and mirth.

Maybe they thought I was nervous? Hopefully.

"Though I must advise," Ui'Iyel continued, "that you should learn to temper your boldness with what is more practical and proven. You do not need to prove your worth to anyone, least of all yourself, shas'saal. To strive to excel for the Tau'va is to be commended, but to do so at the needless cost of oneself - or those around them - would be little more than performative narcissism."

"Y-Yes, honored ethereal."

She gave the slightest of nods, and then glanced past me to the rest of the assembly. "With all that said, you have earned a reputation for yourself, shas'saal."

I froze as I noticed the way Vre'Iken'shi and the other Fire Warriors around her loosened their postures in amusement.

"A reputation for patient cunning and reckless but decisive swiftness." The aun'ui turned to the shas'vre behind her, raising her voice to make sure the assembly could hear her. "What was it you said, shas'vre? Like a dune stinger?"

Vre'Iken'shi nodded as she replied. "He threatens with his sting, but lunges with his claws. Hardy, cunning."

The ethereal turned back towards me, and there was a sense of weight to the nod she gave. "A dangerous being, one who emerges from the most unexpected spots, one that commands respect from even its predators. I congratulate you, Shas'la Fal'shia X'ing. May you live up to your fearsome namesake, in furtherance of the Tau'va."

Scorpion, huh? Well, I suppose it stands out…

Now I had to look forward to another four tau'cyrs of service before the next Trial by Fire. Supposedly, it'd be four cyrs of mostly playing bodyguard over Water Caste envoys or traders, or even Earth Caste research sites. Being deployed on an actual battlefield would often be part of a young shas'la's Trial, or a dire necessity. I'm hoping we haven't reached that stage yet.

One upside about this weird new life of mine was that I was living in a relatively peaceful time in the Tau Empire. As far as I could glean from the daily newsfeeds, no contact has yet been made with humans, so no worries about being thrown into the shitstorm that was Tau-Imperial relations. Though I suppose I should figure out just how far away the Empire was from its Second Sphere Expansion.

If I'm lucky, I'd get to avoid humanity altogether, and enjoy a relatively peaceful and uneventful life.

And then I went on my first deployment.

"WAAAGH!!!"

And I forgot that the Imperium wasn't the only major threat to the young Tau Empire.

It took several long kai'rotaas being stuck on an Air Caste trade ship before I finally got to really take up my first assignment. I was assigned to a Fire Warrior team tasked to guard a Water Caste trade mission; one of the more mundane tasks to settle in the newbies.

The Tau Empire conducted trade mostly with its client xenos states as well as a bunch of friendly but unincorporated xenos factions. And seeing that good enough relations had already been established with the latter to allow for trade in the first place, escorting a por'vre trade envoy was a low risk task that would allow newly minted shas'las to get used to protocols, working with the other castes, and waiting around. At the same time, I suppose that the Water Caste representatives would get enough of a stiff, nervously alert honor guard to show that the Tau Empire wasn't a complete pushover.

I spent the time in transit mostly going through drills within the decks of the Air Caste trade vessel. Basic team tactics, boarding and counter-boarding simulations, bodyguard protocols… The shas'ui in charge of my team wasn't one for tedium, at the very least.

During breaks, we had the luxury of meditating, lounging, joining the other caste-cousins in listening to the latest propaganda updates of the goings on of the Tau Empire, or perusing a limited selection of military treatises and manuals. There was socializing as well, though mostly with the Fire Warriors stationed on the ship itself, as it was a bit of an exercise of offering deference and courtesy between castes, especially for newbies like myself.

My team and I ended up mostly sticking together throughout the trip, as much as to ensure unit coherency as it was the most comfortable avenue, I think.

All that's to say that after three kai'rotaas of being stuck in space without any real task to do, the air quickly became thick with excitement when Ui'Karis gave the order to suit up and assemble at the trade shuttle. We stood at silent attention as she exchanged formalities with Por'vre J'karra and his quartet.

Us mere shas'las were barely paid attention to, and to be fair we barely paid attention to the bows and hand gestures as the por'vre smoothly offered praise and expectations of discipline in one sentence, while Karis in comparison was curt in reassuring him that his safety would be paramount.

"It's curious that we're not being told to be on parade safety, considering we're meeting with allies," my only crechemate in this team, Vaal, commented through our helm's comms. 'Wave', for his propensity to hit and then fade back during the simulations. The best overall performer out of my creche and a solid friend during my whole 'mysteriously crippled' phase.

"They might be friends, but the environment might not be," Ke'da responded with his typical dour tone.

"Or it could be that our counterparts might not appreciate the gesture," Siral added with a cheerful lilt. "Our por cousins would know about such subtleties."

They raised good points. Our education only covered a portion of the Tau Empire's many friendly races, and only in the broadest terms. Whether it's because it wasn't relevant to military training or because the tau simply didn't archive comprehensive information about them, us lowly shas'las knew very little about the Demiurg.

Our private little conversation was dropped the moment Ui'Karis finished her own conversation and put on her helmet.

"We'll be embarking soon. Transit will be short, so final checks before we board. Remember to keep safeties on and optimize your helmet feeds. Don't be surprised if you hear other voices in our general channel; we've opened our frequencies to our hosts. As a gesture of goodwill." The shas'ui's voice tightened at that last bit, betraying what she thought of that courtesy.

After a short trip through the void in an almost cramped shuttle (tau elegantly pragmatic design for the win I guess), I was disappointed to learn that we were landing on the deck of another ship instead of making planetfall. It was a shame, the world below looked pretty with its red, purple and blue hues.

The disappointment was quickly allayed when my team followed after the trade delegation onto the bare metal floor of the hangar bay, and we lined up behind Por'vre J'Karra in a shallow arc to face our hosts.

For a moment, a weird sense of deja vu hit me as I saw their faces, but then I remembered that the tau were about the same height as a bog standard human, and I was currently facing downwards to regard my counterparts, clearly making out the gruff faces of thickly bearded men and squarish-headed women sticking out of heavy metal suits.

Squats. Space dorfs.

So they're really a thing?

Considering the briefings, I was expecting some sort of hunched race of furry rock-eaters. But I guess those terms did apply to space dwarves as well, if they followed the tropes…

J'Karra gave a bow with his hands clasped in the gesture of deference at a space dwarf with far more facial hair than bare face. The usual flowing, sibilant syllables of tau speech were replaced with gruff, guttural coughs and barks as Vre'J'Karra spoke their language. His metal clad counterpart replied in kind and with a nod, and I'm unsure if his eyes were gleaming with annoyance or satisfaction. Maybe both?

It was eerily uncomfortable, hearing a foreign language that was devoid of any apparent tonal subtleties or accompanying hand gestures to enhance meaning after my cloistered upbringing in the battledome. J'Karra and his opposite number simply stood there, the latter's hands folded before him while the former felt like a statue by tau standards in making the barest gestures of assurance and placation.

As we kept silent and watched the exchange, I shifted my hooves ever so slightly as I felt an uncomfortable tingle. Looking at the Demiurg's bare and very human faces, looking at their feet, I felt the old existential discomfort pricking at the edges of my senses again. My grip tightened on my pulse rifle, my heart hammered at a beat I wasn't familiar with, my legs tensed at searching for-

"La'X'ing?"

I closed my eyes tightly and shunted the sudden return of the feeling of missing a nose and having improperly spaced and sized toes.

Relax.

I am tau. Not human.

Hooves, not toes. Shio'he, not nose.

It took me a couple of secon- rai'kan to manage a reply. "My apologies, shas'ui."

She gave a soft grunt laced with concern and the promise of a long talk after this. I noticed Vaal's helmet shifting ever so slightly towards me.

Luckily for me the whole thing didn't interrupt the proceedings. Vre'J'Karra and his dorf counterpart remained locked in gruff conversation with each other, and the rest of the demiurg around us didn't seem to notice or care about the faint shiftings in our postures.

I managed to remain still and blank-minded for a while more, keeping my focus on the metal bulkheads instead of the demiurg. Just as my nerves began to settle, an alert pinged serenely in my helmet at the same time as the demiurg's own alarms blared angrily.

This time the por'vre and his conversation partner froze. Everyone glanced up at the blaring sirens, and then the dorfs were reaching for their ears or donning their helmets to get to their own comms.

On our end, we received a tightly calm report from the kor'vre pilot of our trade ship. "New signatures have been detected entering the system." There was a pause before the pilot's voice returned, the calmness more obviously strained. "Be'gel engine signatures."

Be'gel.

Orks.

Hulking space orcs that also happened to be fungi. Parodies of hooligans with a handful of psychic nonsense thrown in for good measure. A wacky and darkly comedic faction for those familiar with their lore. But for those who were stuck living with it, especially on the wrong side of them, and even more especially for a mere tau trooper, the greenskins were anything but funny.

The nascent Tau Empire had enough encounters with the Orks to form general stratagems and provide holo-recordings of the hulking brutes. And as members of the Fire Caste, even mere shas'saals like myself not too long ago were shown a relatively unvarnished view of the greenskins during the lectures on the threats to the Empire and the Tau'va.

In particular, we were shown select recordings of what the loud, clumsy green monsters could do when they hit a well prepared tau firing position. Cleavers almost the size of a tau chopped into grav tanks and battlesuits, to say nothing of the Fire Warriors standing in their way.

They had sheer brute strength, simple-minded determination, and unholy numbers going for their species.

The Tau Empire could only rely on refining strategies and technologies to blat the orks with greater efficiency, and hope that there was enough space and ammo to kite the greenskins to death.

Fuck do I wish I was a Necron or even a space elf…

I was snapped out of my thoughts as Ui'Karis took a few steps forwards to confer with Vre'J'Karra. Compared to the interrupted inter-species communication, I could clearly pick out the urgency, forced calm, and rapid decision making in their postures and gestures. The discussion then involved the demiurg representative and a couple of his folks, with sharp nods being exchanged.

Finally, the group conversation came to an end and Ui'Karis returned to address us. "Fire Warriors. The Be'gel cannot be allowed to capture this system. Por'vre J'Karra and his delegation will remain on this ship to liaison with our demiurg friends and coordinate a defense against the greenskins. We will continue with our duties in preserving his life, as the Tau'va demands."

The shas'ui's body tensed as she beckoned us to fall in after her and the por'vre who in turn were following after the demiurgs stomping out of the hangar bay and surprisingly accommodating corridors. It made more sense once I noticed the machinery trundling past an intersection.

"The demiurg's void doctrines are different from our Air Caste cousins, and I have been…assured that this vessel will be more than capable of fending off the be'gel invaders by itself. In time." She actually clucked her tongue with blatant disapproval. "However, their approach might see the enemy boarding this vessel."

Great. Stuck in tight spaces with dwarves and orcs. And here I am wielding a long rifle in the tunnels…

"Shas'ui?"

"Yes La'X'ing?"

"Considering our current environment, would it be prudent if we switched to pulse carbines?"

She responded by sending a request to one of the kor'ui crew of our trade ship.

"Remember, our first and foremost duty is to protect the Water Caste delegation. We will carry them off this ship if the situation demands it."

"Ui'Karis, what of the forces on our ship?" Vaal asked politely as we rounded a corner.

"Just as we are tasked to guard the delegation, theirs is to guard the ship. Shas'El Ha'ein will send assistance if the situation merits it."

Basically if the demiurgs ever ask for help, I guess. Please don't let this flavor of space dwarves be as stubborn as the tropes…

Vaal gave a quick gesture of understanding and we soon found ourselves in a very utilitarian bunk room, even by supposedly austere Fire Caste standards. The bulkheads seemed to be carved out to accommodate mattresses, and there was only one small round table in the middle of the room as furnishing.

J'Karra peeled away from us with Karis, the demiurg, and the rest of his team, leaving only one of his people with us. A por'la, judging by the plainness of his robes and the obvious youth that matched us newbies. Said por'la bowed deeply, badly masking his fear.

Still, props to him for trying to put on a brave face.

"Honored la'rua, I am Por'La Kes'tan, and will serve as your translator to the demiurg." He gestured at the beds. "You will be stationed here until needed. Por'vre J'Karra and Shas'ui Karis are still…clarifying what roles your la'rua will take."

Finally in the relative privacy of equals, us shas'las glanced at each other.

"We might as well take the opportunity…" Vaal said, and we nodded before our attentions all converged on the meek Water Caste translator. "Do you think you have the time to teach us more about our demiurg friends, cousin?"

"Since we have the time…" I added, but then the alarm went off again, and Vaal and the others snapped their heads towards me.

"X'ing."

"It's not my fault," I defended even as activity in the corridors outside picked up.

The comms in our helmets came alive to forestall any further accusation. Karis sounded more annoyed than agitated. "Fire Warriors, the enemy have masked their approach. Brace for impact and prepare to repel boarders."

I met the glowing optics of my helmeted team mates again. "It's not my fault."

This is more for my own reference I think, than anything proper. There's Lexicanum for more comprehensive stuff.