Obolis observed his three fingered hand. It was ashen blue with deeper blue age lines through the stubbly knuckles. The backdrop to his hand was the yellow gold stone under autumn light. The occasional crimson or amber three fingered leaf scatted by on the last of the warm summer gusts. He wore counting beads around his wrist and was clothed in a cream colored robe with an orange sash. He sat on one of several low benches that surrounded this small courtyard. They curved around it’s circular edges. The paving stones had been lain in a concentric circular pattern. In the center they made the circular shape of the Tau home world. He cast his eye from the edge across the courtyard looking toward the familiar glyph. A large Appra tree spread its long broad arms above the meditation place and its gold and crimson leaves created a dappled light in the afternoon. About him were low buildings, cream color, with gentle curved half moon windows. The sounds of a dull bell could be heard some distance off. Obolis recognised it as the call to the third cycle meditation.
He had remembered the impacts that had brought down his suit. They had shattered his hand and crushed his frontal vertebrae. He remembered his broken fingers and exposed bone. He had dragged himself from the mangle that was his ruined suit and with one good hand had hauled himself to shelter. He was amazed at how his hand now bore no sign of the ruin that it had been. He watched the dappled light move across his hand.
His strategy had failed. The widening front of the Cemephon war had not been contained. His personal assault on the newly arrived behemoth tank of the Imperial Guard had resulted in the death of most of his Fire Warriors. He and three others had dropped from the back of a strafing drop ship into the combat zone and almost immediately had come under fire. He recalled that as he had spiraled down from the open hatch of the drop ship, the large forms of his brothers and sisters behind him, their retros firing, his suit had begun registering impacts. He could see the form of the massive Baneblade below him and he raced toward it. It formed the central part of the Imperial lines. Its massive cannons blazed away unevenly like the cannons of a woodside ship, vast gouts of smoke and fire. Thud, thud thud. He watched in horror as the main gun fired toward the Tau line that could be seen in the distance. The massive shell sucked the air away at the point of impact before an mammoth explosion obliterated a dozen fire warriors and a Broadside suit. His attention was forced back to his drop zone as his personal drone was overloaded and exploded from fire. A red frame appeared around his targeting reticule and he started firing his fusion guns at the Baneblade. Macuil, his team partner, opened up also. The super heated blasts seemed to be absorbed by the tank with little effect. He noted a dozen proximity warnings as the ground reared up toward him. He ducked toward a derelict building as the slow moving guns to the tank trued toward his teams. His partner steered toward the roof of the building and crouched with the impact. Macuil, on the roof already, had started heading toward the edge of the roof, the charge lights of his fusion guns solid. Obolis followed his partner.
When he reached the edge of the building he saw that the tank had stopped moving. It had become a bunker, fire issued from dozens of weapons on its vast iron hull. It obliterated everything around it. Obolis was surprised to see several human soldiers cut down in the fire fury that had erupted from the machine. Most of the fire was being directed at the distant Tau line~ most. He noted his second crisis team had hit the ground in the street below them. He grimaced as he noted their lack of cover. He knew their lone shield drone wouldn’t last long. He watched in horror as the team of two were cut down. A machine gun blasted through the first large form of the crisis suit. An impact quickly dispached their shield drone in a shatter of sparks and white metal. Further heavy rounds then rippled through the first suit like a storm through the autumn leaves. Metal, cable, and then flesh were scattered.
The quick demise of the first suit gave the second suit just enough time to fire. He recognised the warrior, Gallty, he thought her name was. She was a Firewarror from one of the outer ring worlds. Her fusion shot went wild. He cursed because he knew she would not get another. Her suit was hit by a lazer cannon round which obliterated it’s entire right side. He saw the her burned body, a blackened stub where her right arm should have been, fall from the gaping hole in the crisis suit. Her manged and torso fell forward like an overcooked banana curling out of its blackened skin. She slumped forward hanging at at her waste, which was still lodged in the ruined suit. She hung for a second before the actuators and servos of the suit failed and the armor collapsed forward obscuring, and probably crushing her body.
Obolis remembered his rage as he lifted his twin fusions guns, his foot gripping on the raised edge of the building roof. He and Macuil opened up on the tank. Their precise fire hit the tank blasting apart armored plating. Now, they being the only threat all, the fire from the tank was re targeted toward the roof they were on. The wall and structure below them started to erupt, torn apart by shells. As the side of the building came apart and his footing gave way he activated his jets to stay aloft. A brace of shells hit him. The first hit his suit and did most of the damage, a shot of pain raced through his arm. The following shots were scattered across his sensor intakes. His data feeds and actuators malfunctioned and his thrusters automatically failed. Red warning signs flashed in-front of his eyes and he tried to reengage the thrusters. It was too late, the suit fell from the edge of the building in a cascade of rubble and debris. Its internal systems struggled to stay functioning as it fell the three stories and hit the pavement far below. The actuators, which normally would have worked to have the suit mimic his movements, acted as a cushion when the suit hit the pavement. In retrospect it was probably a good thing. Macuil was hit by a lazcannon shot and killed instantly with an abruptly curtailed scream.
Obolis remembered the slow fading of his suits systems. He watched in pain as the tracked tank before him moved on down the street. The booted feet of Imperial infantry passed close by his felled suit. He watched them on a static laced viewer. They must have taken one look at the remains of his suit and dismissed him.
He looked up from his pondering and before him stood a tall Tau wearing a simple orange and white tabard. It was Milsin, an Etherial Caste member. His long dark hair was a long brade and his claiming eyes cast themselves over Obolis.
“What are you looking for?” Asked the Ethereal. “Is there something that you seek from your hands?”.
Obolis rested his hand on the bench “I was amazed at the healing power of the Earth Caste. My hand shows no scar from the battle two months ago.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“none.”
“None that can be seen. You seem to look for it anyway.” Obolis nodded. The Ethereal caste was always looking for meaning in simple things. Looking for something under the surface. Perhaps that was why this Ethereal, Milsin was the leader of this place. He was always seeking healing beyond physical healing. “You’re still thinking about the defeat at Cemephon.”
“Well wouldn’t you?” hurt could be heard in his voice.
“yes” Milsin nodded. “The loss of that world, and the horror that followed, is something that pains my soul too. Your soul however should not be blamed for this.” He paused as though looking inward. “We Ethereal should take the blame if any. After all it was our Ari Ashi who lead your invasion of that world to ruin, not you.” There was a quiet pause between them with the rattle of the dry leaves on the stone.
“I should have resisted.”
“you tried.” silence again “…and that is why you’re here. You questioned Ari’s traitorous allegiance and still tried to win the war for our empire. Perhaps your fault was not seeing that the more you fought the more your doomed expedition was to suffer. There really was no way your campaign on Cemephon could have won with such a cancer at its heart.”
“But a corrupted Ethereal. How could it be so?”
“How indeed?” Milsin nodded. “Corrupted. And so much was lost. So many warriors killed. And Anemos, one of our most brightest and faithful leaders, dead.”
“Nobody ever saw her killed” Obolis looked up at the Ethereal with a harsh look in his eye. Milsin raised his eyebrows and formed a slight frown, one of the few ways Tau had to show concern.
“Here we are again.” he said.
“What?”
“Anemos.”
“What?” The Fire Warrior’s face in a snarl.
“Do you think she is still alive?” said the leader, seeing something of hope in the Fire Warrior.
“Probably not” his look was forlorn.
“You miss her leadership”. Obolis didn’t reply. The Ethereal sat down on the bench quietly as the silence and open ended question filled the space. He breathed out in a long slow breath.
Another sweep of wind blew through the courtyard scattering orange fragments.
“You have been here for months Obolis. It is time to return to the field” The Ethereal said. “I have been tasked to guide you now. But there is something that has not been resolved here and I have been unable to get to the bottom of it. We can not begin again until it is resolved. I would have thought it was the betrayal of Ari Ashi, the Traitor Ethereal. But no. I sense that even during the campaign you were trying to out maneuver him. You had moved past his influence then. What holds you back now is Anemos’ absence”.
Obolis shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“It is though she were your true leader” The Ethereal said.
“She was”. Though what Obolis said was a virtual blasphemy the Ethereal simply sighed.
“I must conclude” Milin spoke “that you do not wish to disgrace yourself by claiming that Anemos was the true leader. Had she been, the defeat on Cemephon would have been hers rather than Ari Ashi’s. I must conclude that your attachment to her was beyond that of an officer to his general”.
Obolis said nothing. His mind was confused beyond words. He had counseled Anemos to rebel against the traitor Ethereal. But she had stayed true as her duty obliged her to. And now he felt regret at her absence and his inability to influence her when he had the chance. He blamed himself for her loss.
“You must move beyond this defeat Obolis”
“I just can’t” he pushed the words out. The Ethereal nodded slowly.
“We’ll do it together. We’ll move past this together.”
“What do you mean?” The Fire Warrior turned to his new guide.
“You will summon the remnant of the Cemephon Expanson. They are camped beyond the Maltran Plain. They are ready for war again. You will return to Cemephon, wipe out the Imperials that now threaten the world again and you will find the body of Anemos. You will bury her in the ground”.
“What if she is alive?”
“She is not. And you will discover that and put her memory to rest.”
“What of the Fire Warriors? They still worship Ari Ashi despite the defeat?”
“I know it. We will embrace the icon of the fallen Ethereal and make it our own. We will kill is memory in our victory. We will own his tattoos and make them proud again. Are you willing Obolis?”
The Fire Warrior paused. A gust pushed through the square and the two leaders locked eyes.
“I am.”
The Kabal of the Rancid Blade 