Fan Fiction Friday
Author’s statement.
Thank you for taking the time to read my piece!
I wrote this short story over the course of about 3 weeks. It is the first piece if 40k fiction I have tackled
and only my second foray into fan fiction.
I started it with the idea of doing something morally bad for the greater good, an idea at the
core of the Tau philosophy. I wanted to explore what might happen when someone blind to this idea is suddenly exposed to it.
I’m still relatively new to writing and I’m looking to improve all the time. I’m currently working on
a new story about the Tau. I really appreciate the support I received from the community.
I regularly post progress on my painting journey on my Instagram and will
occasionally post new writing projects in the discord server linked here and you can reach me at
duckmarrillion@gmail.com or at sambers#1805 on discord.
In Blindness We See
By Sam
2022
Viego III
Chalnath expanse
Night falls on the hues of the forest
and the Pathfinders hunt their prey. Like stalking mal'caor, they sweep through
the darkness, barely rustling the forest leaves underhoof, whistling their
nearly silent messages back and forth through short range comms like birds of
prey stalking a catch. The eerie low cry of a distant Ghostkeel's magnetic
sonar pulse reaches them, a sound audibly invisible to gue'la and the course
swiftly changes, the Pathfinders channelling like an echelon of hawks through
the thick brush, branches of sharp thorns quickly swayed by their nimble hooves.
Short of a mile ahead, dim lights surround the burnt-out husks of structures, the decay so aged and its origin so forgotten that metal crumbles to stone and anything organic sticks out like blood on a white wall. In a matter of minutes, the team covers the distance between them, and the target and the sound of ecclesiastical mumblings fills the humid air. The quivering lip of an official with a trivial role in the savagery of war blurts out some blessing on the tools of such a war. Words occasionally slip through with some sense followed by messy spittle and glistening drool.
"Mindless savages of these
primitive and impure Xenos cannot be allowed...".
The Shas’Ui's grip on
his carbine tightens and he primes his markerlight, his aide readjusts his
silencer.
The clergyman continues “... Never such a Xenos threat as today and
the stand against those impure lesser beings and the heretics alongside them
shall…".
The Shas’Ui gives a silent gesture.
In an instant the man's chest is illuminated in a swathe of blue laser points. He looks down, his neck fat bulging against his collar one second and the next seeing his red viscera explode out behind him. He stumbles backwards, his chest cavity scorched by pulse fire.
Beside him, his metal
gue'ron'sha companion lurches into action, drawing
a glowing pistol but this barely reaches position before his helmet and skull
are opened out backwards in the whispy thump of a supporting rail rifle shot.
The crowd members, reeling in shock, draw their various small arms and shout in alarm but already the forest around them is dead with nothing but
the shaking of the trees in the breeze.
*. *. *
Shas'El Shehe'ssera, in her minimal black battlesuit underlining, paces about the room, looking both calm and deep in thought. She returns to the front of the Pathfinders and sits in front of the group, legs crossed, she breaths in deeply, feeling for their presence.
"As much as this mission yielded success, we have come upon... ". She speaks calmly but mutters something indiscernible under her breath, clearly more concerned than they had seen her before. "M’yen..." unforeseen.
The stout researcher behind her continued for Shehe'ssera, calmly "One of the Gue'la killed had more importance to the human empire than we anticipated. Intel suggests he had a standalone role, potentially higher than the 'lieutenants' we have faced previously.”
"Inquisitor...” El'Shehe'serra mutters. It didn't mean much to the Pathfinders but internally she gnawed at herself for the lack of foresight.
The researcher nodded, continuing, "The Aun suggested using this as an opportunity for a major strike to bring down the morale of the Gue'la on Viego III. If we can drive them back with a major strike on the ground, then we have a chance of pushing them out of the star system.” He looked down in deference and the Shas'El nodded.
"We will begin the attack sixteen hours from now. We suggest an initial recon by the Ghostkeels and your unit, followed by a swift run by my team on the presumed main stronghold of the Gue'la. Supporting fire will be established soon. We already hold several military outposts with Gue'vesa in the system and his grace Aun’Les ensures me that gunships will accompany our drop. Drop zone for recon is two miles out, south of the main target. Mark it and any oncoming vehicles and take out the Gue’la squad leaders, then remove yourself from the fire. Remember, for the Greater Good.”
The Shas’Ui nods, “For the Greater Good, Shas’El”. His fellow pathfinders look to him for their next action, their faces laden with
the kind of fear that never shows, the kind of courage that you'd die for.
Only moments before, El’Shehe’serra had approached Aun’Les, deep in meditation.
"Your grace, sir, if you will, I have doubts about the mission." Her words are more uncertain then usual. The slender ethereal raises a hand and Shehe'ssera feels calmer in an instant, an aura of warmth. Aun’Les voice is soft and smooth, so well-crafted and careful she was sure that he could have toppled any empire with but a word.
"Tell me, child". Shehe'ssera nodded and quickly continued, trying to slow her breathing. She felt her worries begin to drift and Aun’Les waved a hand. "You will do well, child.”
* *. *
And so, her worries had disappeared as if he had brushed them aside from her. Only now they began to creep in again as Shehe'ssera adorned her battlesuit. The inside was warmer than usual, like a slowly throbbing womb.
She breaths out.
Sixteen hours later
Viego III
Initial landing successful, guard in drop zone, taken out.
No outgoing enemy signals. Keel's sonar scan was successful.
Gue'la scouts identified, Pathfinders reached drop zone.
Shas'La confirmed kills on scouts, rail support knocked sentries clean.
Minor changes to plan, new course corrected for, Gue’ron’sha on south side, avoided.
Two drone scouts unaccounted for.
Homing beacon in place, markers set. No outgoing enemy signals.
Preparing to clear drop zone.
Five.
Piranhas inbound for diversion strafe.
Four.
Gue'ron'sha move to diversion position.
Three.
Hammerheads and skyrays in position for rear support.
Two.
Gue’la moved to unidentified disturbance north, unnoteworthy.
One.
Dropzone clear.
El'Shehe'serra closes her eyes as the
Manta door opened and the cold air flurried in. Her suit whirred to life. She
breaths in. The wind rushing past her. She breaths out.
The battlesuits are out and down in an instant burst of their jet engines, unmanned tanks turned to molten slag from onslaughts of plasma and fusion fire. Quick bursts of licking flame lighting up the panicked Gue'ron'sha before spiraling missiles turn them to mulch.
A Pathfinder goes down but the T’au don’t falter. The Crisis XV-8 feet touches down and one suit whirls its flamer into a mass of bodies. The whir of an enemy plane’s engine appears above the base, lining up its shots before it’s quickly marked with a wailing seeker missile.
A dreadnought appears and is swamped by
stealth suits like rats onto refuse. Marine bikers roll out. A Crisis suit
takes a hit to its leg but spins and chews through the marine, his body turning
to shrapnel and bright innards which spray his brothers to with red mist. A
grav-tank appears and Shehe'ssera sidesteps a flurry of missiles, punching towards
it, her plasma rifles spitting out molten beams that melt straight through the
tank’s carapace. The gunner screams as the world around him melts and is met
with burst cannon fire.
A Crisis suit is shoved back by a dreadnought, its flamer crumbling and exploding in a fireball that envelopes them both. The emergency self-destruction flare sets off and the silhouette of the dreadnought becomes roaring fire. It was here, in the heart of war, that Shehe'ssera felt alive. It was baseless, unadulterated freedom. It was pure, momentarily guilt-free savagery. It was doing the right thing at the right time before anyone could say anything about it.
The Pathfinders appear out of the smoke and guardsmen are swallowed by their own entrails. A shimmering, barely visible Ghostkeel is in the distance, guardsmen clinging onto it as it swings its’ ion raker around and pummels nearby Gue'ron'sha with its great bulk, occasional blasts from its raker crippling whole detachments of guard with flashes of light. Shehe'ssera felt the warmth of her suit and she relished in yet another Gue'la's downfall.
Crack.
Suddenly, the melody of the battle was
broken, as an unimaginably loud sound booms over the battlefield. The
building ahead and the tanks behind it are gone, disintegrated into a cloud of
instant dust and metal that blow out behind them for miles. The only visible thing is an entry point the size of a pulse pistol shot and then behind it, nothing.
The whole battle stands still in the silence that follows, combatants stunned at this raw power. Neither side seems to know who fired that shot. Tau and Gue'ron'sha alike are scattered amongst what remains of the dead.
A Lieutenant, poised all gloriously to spur his brothers on, has gone pale, frozen in time like a statue. The pathfinder sniper trained on him trembles, not even wanting to take a shot.
Crack.
Another blast echoes. Somehow even louder than before, the rest of the rubble is blown to dust, the squad of Pathfinders taken with it, disintegrated into shallow pools. Shehe'ssera is stunned. After what feels like an eon, the few seconds of silence confirmed no third shot and the battle ensues as the Lieutenant’s head is split in two, the Marines more spurred on and more furious than ever. Shehe'ssera quickly orders the retreat but is cut off by a message from Aun’Les.
"Do not surrender." and she was back in the battle. But she feels a pang of guilt, a sudden unheard-of dizziness. She felt the sickness of war unlike she had ever felt before. Was that our shot? She didn't know.
In her distraction a guardsmen has closed in on her. She hears the tinny echo of a weapon being unsheathed and she reacts to the attack, slamming away the small Gue'la. But something is off. Her visual feed, the direct optic scanners of her suit are off, shattered.
She is blind.
She feels a body crawl on top of her and in the blackness, she listens to the
numb sounds of battle and the blinking radar imagery. She turns on the
spot, blasting a hot beam of plasma through a Gue'ron'sha face.
It was almost pitch black in the suit now, save the blinking power light and radar system for backup. She sees a flash appear to her left through the narrow viewport on the suit and she turns again, feeling the enemy melt under her gun. She shuts her eyes and breaths in deeply, feeling the battle around her, opening her senses to the invisibility of war. And she found calm, more so than ever before and she trusted Aun’Les and the other Ethereals to guide her. After all, they had not failed her before.
And she felt the battle. She felt everything until the second it ended. And then it was over, the Gue'la calling a retreat after Shehe'ssera had slain up their last executioner. Shehe'ssera had fought like a dancer, creating her own tune out of shots and missiles, conducting her own attacks like beats and scores in the music all the while listening, praying for the minute sounds of footsteps to indicate flanks and maneuvers.
She breathed out again.
*. *. *
The simple red drapes of the chamber framed Aun’Les' stillness like a statue. Beneath the glossy floor, El'Shehe'ssera's reflection silently pleaded her conscience to him. "I don't understand... I just don't know how it happened... how could they do this... we didn't know anything... I couldn't do anything... I didn't do enough. I'm so sorry". Her voice trembled ever so slightly with anger, partly at herself. Aun’Les didn't speak but raised a hand, as if gesturing the emotion out of her. Her breathing slowed. She bit herself at her overreaction whilst the back of her mind still washed over with regret and her own nagging failure. The Aun replied to her slowly.
"There was no failure today child.
Our test was a success." His words sank Ssera's stomach like a brick.
"What test...?" She asked him, her face going pale. She felt a sudden emptiness from inside her and a hellish realisation began to seed itself in front of her eyes.
The Aun elaborated, "The weapon test went exactly as planned and you diverted attention perfectly”. The El's forehead grew hot, and the realisation became definite with Aun’Les' words. They seemed cold now, less warm than when he praised her. She snapped back at him, unintentionally drawing up angry tones.
"This was you?!" Disgust joined her fury. "You know how many people you killed!" She wasn't even asking but demanding. The Aun didn't reply. Shehe'ssera's breathing was heavy, erratic now and she glared at the monument of a Tau in front of her. Aun’Les grip tightened around his stave and the blade glistened. He looked at her with eyes as black as dead stars and the coldness of the universe that contained them. Ssera continued, her anger just about mustering itself past the fear in her legs, "What have you done! all those Shas'las… what did they do?! You're murderers!".
The Aun spoke back. His voice was cold, immensely so. "And so are you."
Shehe’ssera stumbled over herself, her face red hot with fury, her arms trembling.
"You monster... you let hundreds die for no good reason! this whole war has no good reason!" She spat her accusations.
"I let hundreds be at risk so that
millions may be saved. I do what is necessary for you. I save more lives than
you could ever understand. You are so quick to fight but will do what it takes
when it is necessary. They have died so that we may be free. That is worth the
lives of the few." His voice booms through the chamber.
Shehe’ssera feels a lump rising in her throat. The Aun's face was gaunt and thinner than usual, less full of life. His shadow rose behind him filling Serra's chest with anger at his seeming self-righteousness.
"How could you say that about
them!" She blurted out wetly. Aun’Les' voice is composed but void of compassion.
"See that you do not show such
disobedience again, Shas'O'Sho-vae, Blind sighted. I
expect better from you in future. " He christened her with the same dry
tones and closed his eyes, returning deep within himself.
Shehe'ssera looked down at the ground, at her ritual bonding knife and breathed in deeply. Her beating heart filled her ears and it felt like the whole room. There was so much anger under her skin, crawling to escape and she tightened her grip on the knife, the dull blade digging into her fingers. She looked up at the Aun, clutching the knife.
"Disobedience..." Shehe’ssera muttered quietly. She bit her teeth. Something at the back of her mind stung, maybe guilt.
Disobedience. She raised the knife up to her eye level. The Aun watched over her like a statue, his black eyes still. She breathed in again, mustering herself and felt the room go cold. Like her battlesuit had been blinded hours before, now she too, must not see what she commits herself to. The blinding knife drew a little blood as she drew it across. Tiny drops like tears hit the floor. She breathed in, trembling.
And O'sho-vae breathed out.
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