The voice went on after a pause, its pleasant pitch undoubtedly tau in origin. Kais clung to the certainty that others of his race were nearby, letting the words themselves — disguised behind a friendly, trustworthy tonality — wash over him. “His Eminence wishes to make it clear that breaches of the Dal’yth treaty and other hostilities will no longer be tolerated, and that the mercy we have demonstrated this rotaa will not be repeated in future.”
“This is your idea of mercy, is it? Seizing my vessel and demanding my surre—”
“We would remind you that the attempted seizure of our vessel preceded yours, and his eminence suspects that, had you succeeded, a surrender on our behalf would have fallen on deaf ears. You should consider yourselves lucky, he believes.”
The figures beyond the glass began to resolve as Kais drew nearer. He spotted a domed pol-hat — characteristic of water caste diplomats — and began to understand.
“They’re negotiating for peace?” he murmured, more to himself than the scowling Space Marine. The figure turned his way nonetheless and fixed him with another imperious glare.
“That’s the idea. Your diplomats are to be congratulated, alien. They posture and make threats, all the while managing to sound as friendly as you like. The Codex approves of shows of strength — when properly executed.”
Kais felt utterly bewildered. To be so close to one of these vast killing machines, unarmed and unprepared... he ought to be dead, not standing discussing morality like a lecture-hall por’el.
The wall speaker said, “Lucky? Ha!”
“What’s going on?” Kais muttered. “What’s happened?”
The Space Marine gave him an appraising stare, pursing his scarred lips. “Just watch.”
Kais crept closer to the window, fighting the screaming nerves. The wide chamber on the other side of the window was packed with figures, divided along a central line into human and tau groups. The gue’la looked angry, various officers hissing into one another’s ears, waving their hands expressively. A row of storm-troopers waited silently along one wall. At the table was the same tall, grey-haired man he’d almost garrotted earlier, frowning in distaste.
He turned to the Marine quickly. “How long since...?”
“Since you wrecked the bridge? About an hour.”
A didactic memory at the base of Kais’s mind chipped in efficiently, identifying an hour as two thirds of a dec. Things had moved quickly since he was knocked out.
“Who are you?”
“Ardias. Captain Ardias of his Imperial Majesty’s Ultramarines.”
“Why didn’t you... Why aren’t I dead?”
“Call it a sign of goodwill.” The assurance was not convincing. Ardias turned away.
Kais returned his eyes to the window, staring down at the tau group. At its head, dressed in gue’la-imitation robes, a phalanx of water caste diplomats led by Por’el Yis’ten stood and whispered to each other calmly. Kais had seen El’Yis’ten once or twice aboard the Or’es Tash’var before the rotaa’s madness began: if anything the grim angular surroundings of the gue’la vessel exacerbated her already stunning looks. Shas’las and shas’uis were arranged carefully against the wall behind them, watching their human counterparts suspiciously.
Kais wanted to beat his fists on the window and scream: “Don’t trust them! Get out! Get out!”
Ardias glanced at him shrewdly, as if reading his thoughts. Kais frowned at him, uncowed by the human’s stare. They returned their attention to the assembly simultaneously.
Aun’el Ko’vash stood in thought, eyes wide with ancient wisdom, leaning on his honour blade. In Kais’s eyes he wore a corona of power and focus, a halo of intellect that eclipsed the brightness of the room’s artificial lights. He leaned down gracefully to whisper something to the por’el. El’Yis’ten turned to the admiral, smiling.
“His eminence wonders why you chose to parley so abruptly, when all our previous attempts to communicate met with failure.”
Kais could see the admiral was frustrated at having to converse with the ethereal via El’Yis’ten, tired eyes flicking from one to the other as he prepared his answer. Kais wondered vaguely whether such conduit conferencing was normal, or carefully designed to distract and disorient. The water caste were as notorious for their cunning as their diplomacy.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the admiral barked, caught off guard.
“Merely a matter of interest.” El’Yis’ten purred, her grasp of the human tongue far in advance of Kais’s, smiling in a remarkable impression of a cheerful gue’la. “His eminence would be disappointed to discover this little conference was a pretext to bring him aboard. He is aware of his value to your... ah... ‘tech-priests’.”
The admiral, Kais thought, looked furious. The Marine beside him grunted. “Tell me — is paranoia prevalent throughout your race?”
Kais didn’t answer.
“How dare you!” the admiral neighed in the boardroom, indignant. “The very suggestion is—”
“We suggest nothing, admiral. We merely wish to forewarn you of the repercussions of such... entrapment. His eminence’s failure to return to the Or’es Tash’var will, of course, result in immediate retaliation.”
“Of course,” the admiral hissed with poor grace, knowing he was beaten.
“The question,” El’Yis’ten continued, “remains pertinent.” She sounded like she was enjoying herself. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
Kais watched the admiral’s face closely, trying to decipher the strange emotions playing across it. A sidelong glance at Ko’vash told him the ethereal was doing the same — penetrative glare fixed firmly on the old gue’la’s features. The admiral looked up directly at the window. Kais swivelled in his spot, confused.
The Marine nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
“We have a problem,” the admiral said, “that requires us to... reprioritise.”
“Go on...”
Another glance at Ardias. Another half nod.
“A secondary threat. Already aboard this ship.”
The admiral’s decorum left him in a long drawn-out sigh. He seemed to deflate, suddenly seeming old and tired. El’Yis’ten shared an alarmed glance with the ethereal. “You know as well as I,” the admiral growled, “that under normal circumstances we’d rather die than consort with fr— with your kind. But we have reason to believe these circumstances are far from normal, and until we’re certain of what we’re—”
The boardroom doors opened with a fierce clang, eliciting a wave of instinctive head twists. The figure that stalked in had donned a vast fur coat since Kais had last seen him, an impressive mantle of tawny and blood red markings that widened his already substantial frame. His face was unchanged, twisted in a petulant sneer.
It was the man from the viewing gallery in the prison torture chamber, and Ko’vash watched him enter with admirable calm.
The shas’las lowered their guns slowly, satisfied that the unarmed figure was no threat. Kais’s quick impressions of the situation were manifold: the Space Marine grunting angrily, the admiral hissing in fury, the newcomer grinning hungrily...
“What’s the meaning of this, Severus?” the admiral roared.
“Admiral — so good to see you again. I feared you lost in the invasion.”
“You’re not supposed to b—”
“And, look...” the newcomer bowed to Ko’vash sarcastically, feral grin widening further. “My old friend Ko-vaj. How are you? It’s been so long.”
“Severu—!”
“Oh, hush, Benedil — do. You know I have all the authority I need to be here.”
Ardias shook his head, muttering under his breath.