The shadows came down. Kais just had time to wonder, dully, how long there was between impact and detonation of a bolter shell before everything went black.

Her team was exhausted. They’d fought off three boarding parties back to back, wading through the bodies of their enemies to take ground and corner the gue’la invaders. They’d watched friends and comrades falling and dying pulverised by the chattering hellguns of the humans or sucked silently into the void behind sealing blast doors, screaming the last of their air away into nothingness.

They’d reinforced the engine bay where the last of the gue’la were converging executing every last one without compassion or mercy or hate. It was a cull, cold and pure and simple.

Then they’d rushed to the bridge, picking off the few wounded stragglers that remained among the crippled corridors of the Or’es Tash’var, until at long last, after what seemed like rotaas of running and fighting they’d found a working elevator to the command deck.

Shas’la T’au Ju, reciting the sio’t meditation of focused aggression beneath her breath, stumbled onto the bridge in a knot of other shas’las and faced a nightmarish vision.

Purple haze, thin enough to give everything an insipid, violet taint, hung listlessly in the air. Wrecked controls and shattered technology blinked and sparked spastically, splattered by the mingled blood of tau and gue’la alike. Kor’o Natash Tyra, unmistakable in his robesuit, lay in a heap in the centre of the bridge, smashed skull leaking fluids.

Then she saw the Marine. There were others, dead and shattered, lying in enormous mounds at different points of the bridge, but this one was alive: an articulating monstrosity straight from the didactic courses that had given her nightmares as a youth. It stood in plain sight, leaning over the body of a fire warrior and raising its blocky weapon.

Ju didn’t think. She lifted her carbine and shot the gargantuan warrior over and over again, and didn’t stop when the rest of the team joined her. The figure seemed to glow briefly at the combined assault, then, with an aborted roar of pain and frustration, exploded. The mess on the bridge got worse.

The fallen shas’la, she found, was Kais. He’d been shot in the head.

When he awoke he laughed like a yearling shas’saal at the sight of her, and they were still hugging and smiling and examining the almost fatal dent in his helmet, a miraculously unexploded shell still buried in the fio’tak, when Shas’o U’das, concealed with the other dignitaries in some well-guarded part of the vessel, spoke across the ship’s communicator.

The fightback had begun.

The tau flotilla erupted from the final tentative warp hop in the midst of a blue-green corona, dissipating energies blossoming and fading into the void. Some forty vessels, none remotely as large as their gue’la counterparts but awe-inspiring in their sleek manoeuvrability and sheer weight of numbers, slipped into reality on the edges of the Dolumar system and surged towards the gue’la fleet, still in dogged pursuit of the Or’es Tash’var. Their rounded prows reflected the muggy light of the system’s star, casting luminous lines across the bulbous outer hulls of their fellows.

Lusha’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. The various “els and “os around him resisted the instinct to hiss in astonishment, wide eyes tracking the warships as they slunk past, disgorging swarms of fighters.

“By the path...” Fio’el Boran croaked, unable to conceal his amazement.

In no time the flotilla was lost beyond the view from the gallery window and the dignitaries turned to the kor’vre at the chamber’s sole monitoring console. The secondary bridge was little more than an armoured bunker near the lowermost segments of the Or’es Tash’var, but thus far it had proved impregnable. Soon, Lusha suspected, Ko’vash and the others would return to the real bridge — now secured, if reports were to be believed.

The kor’vre studied the complex series of icons and projection vertices lacing the screen. “The flotilla’s slowing to engagement speed,” he murmured. “The gue’la are scattering. Trying to get round without engaging.”

Ko’vash nodded sourly. “They have no stomach for battle. They just want their prize.”

“Aun’el — we’re being hailed by the Tel’ham Kenvaal. Patching it through...”

The console chimed as a channel opened.

“Or’es Tash’var? This is Kor’o Dal’yth Men’he. What’s your status?”

Ko’vash gestured for a transmitter drone. “O’Men’he. Your arrival is most welcome. This is Aun’el T’au Ko’vash.”

“Aun’el! Thank the path! We feared the worst.”

“I live yet, Kor’o. We’ve held them at bay so far.”

“What action, Aun’el? The gue’la are attempting to evade.”

Ko’vash twisted briefly towards Shas’o Udas, who stood staring at the sensor chart with a calculating frown. “Shas’o?”

Lusha watched the general carefully, wondering what discipline he’d consider the most appropriate. He scratched at his chin.

“Ken’rai,” he decided. “Cut off the head, the body will die.”

Ko’vash nodded, pursing his lips, and turned back to the drone. “Harry the fleet, Kor’o. We’ll target the flagship ourselves.”

O’Men’he’s reply took a long time. Lusha imagined him aboard the Tel’ham Kenvaal, gaping at the brazenness of O’Udas’s plans.

“U-understood, Aun’el. For the Greater Good.” The console chimed again and the room descended into silence.

“O’Udas... Do we have sufficient manpower for this?”

“I believe so, Aun’el. The boarding shuttles are operational at least, so insertion shouldn’t be an issue... providing we can knock through the shields, that is.”

“Very well.” The ethereal turned to the console with a deep breath. “Sound the attack.”

127.22]. Priority-1. (0/550.q) Datastream transmission only.>

++Fleet, this is Admiral Constantine.++

++Do not, repeat, do not engage the enemy flotilla. Focus on the prize-ship. We must take the ethereal.++

[Admiral? Captain Brunt, Purgatus. They’re moving to intercept. Evasion’s not an option any mo—]

++Brunt — you’ll do as you’re told.++

[He’s right, admiral. Forsithe on the Baleful Gaze, here. Unless we engage now they’ll eat us alive.]

[You see?]

++There will be no discussion! We pursue the target vessel, as planned!++

[Sir — this is lunacy!]

++No, this is insubordination, Forsithe. I’ll have your head!++

[Admiral? Captain Tigarus. I’m afraid I concur with the others. We need to return fire.]

[We’re outnumbered two-to-one. Either we fight or we flee. There’s no way around.]

++The first commander that breaks from the chase will be court-martialled for flagrant sedition and executed!++

[Sir — the “chase” may be a moot issue... The prize-ship’s turning.]

++What?++

[By the throne... are they mad?]

++This doesn’t make sen—++

[They’re closing on the Enduring Blade, sir...]

[You may want to evade...]

++They can’t hope to outgun us... They’re mad!++

[They’re... Oh, Vandire’s teeth... They’re launching shuttles.]

[Admiral! They’re trying to board you!]