Fire Caste (Warhammer 40,000) by Peter Fehervari

Author:Peter Fehervari [Fehervari, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2013-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Day 44 – The Coil: Adrift

Reve is right. We are completely lost.

Iverson’s Journal

‘If you do not know your place in the Tau’va, you do not know yourself. And if you do not know yourself you have no place at all.’

Winter’s Tide

Claiborne Roach battered his way through another wall of clinging fronds and burst into the clearing beyond. His breath came in short, ragged gasps now, trying to keep time with his hammering heart. The rain thundered down in an angry barrage, churning the soil into treacherous mulch, but he didn’t dare slow his breakneck pace. His pursuers were too close. He could hear them crashing through the foliage and calling to each other, no more than thirty paces at his back. He’d cut the chase fine, but sometimes a man had to play for all or nothing.

With a whine of displaced air a tau drone shot by overhead and spun to scope him. He threw the hovering disc a grin as he raced forward, flashing past the coral corpse at the centre of the clearing. The ruin was little more than a broken stub, but it was enough to sterilise almost twenty square metres of jungle. And it was more than enough for his plan.

He heard a triumphant shout as the first of the Concordance janissaries broke into the clearing and spotted him. Fine beams of markerlight lanced around him as he hurtled towards the trees ahead. Dredging up a last burst of speed he dived for cover, ducking under the lattice of violet fire that swept after him. Rolling to his knees, he tore his carbine free and swung round, but it was already over.

As the janissaries raced past the ruin, Roach’s comrades rose from behind the coral and unleashed an enfilade of their own markerlight into their backs. The hunters’ weapons deactivated in a bleeping tide of mock kills, taking them out of the game in quick succession. Their leader swore and threw down his dead carbine as Roach ambled back from the foliage to join his victorious cluster. Mister Fish met him with a grin and they slapped hands like old gang buddies. And truth to tell, the Saathlaa guide was the closest thing Roach had had to a friend in years. The askari had told him his real name once, but ‘Mister Fish’ had already stuck and the native didn’t seem to mind it. Life would be a whole heap easier if more folk just went with the flow like the Fish, Roach reckoned.

‘That was well done, Friend Roach,’ Ricardo Alvarez, the leader of their cluster declared. ‘Your skill in the field almost compensates for your doubts about the Tau’va.’

‘Doubts keep a man sharp,’ Roach quipped.

‘Kauyon,’ someone said behind them, speaking in an inflectionless electronic monotone. They turned and Roach squinted, hunting for their hidden observer. He nodded in satisfaction as he spotted a vaguely humanoid shimmer lurking at the edge of the clearing. The translucent shape looked like it had been sculpted out of thin air by the rain; in other conditions the tau stealth suit would have been almost invisible.

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