It was over.
They had won.
But the Gue'la fought on.
Every hall, every room, every nook and cranny had to be taken by force. Mira had not seen a single Gue'la retreat since the fight for the gunnery deck. They held their positions and fought, screamed in their guttural tongue, and died.
They did not die quietly.
They killed whenever they could.
Bakah had fallen just in front of the aft gunnery deck. Sholt in some nameless corridor. Only five Fire Warriors remained in their La'rua now.
Mira had been taught at the Fire Warrior academy that casualties were part of his trade. That friends would be made, bonds forged, and then suddenly severed—all in service to the Tau'va. They were taught to cherish the time those bonds endured, and to honor the fallen by ending the conflict as swiftly as possible, so that no more grief would spread through the ranks.
But Mira felt the loss welling in his chest all the same.
It took all of his discipline to remain focused on the assignment—to honor their short legacy through continued action.
"The Cadre has pushed them back to the engine rooms and the superstructure," Eldi's voice came over the comms, breathless but triumphant. "We are to continue pursuit until we seize control of their command center. They're on their last gasps now."
They halted briefly to allow Eldi to coordinate with the other Shas'ui over the command net. While Mira held security, he noticed the stillness of the dying ship. It felt like they were winning—like the training manuals said it would. The enemy's stiffest resistance came only when it was already too late, followed by sudden and violent collapse.
So why did his gut twist like this?
Eldi rose to her feet and signaled them to move out.
They advanced corridor by corridor. Room by room. Clearing pockets of last resistance as they went. Eventually they turned into a corridor that felt too long, its walls unbroken by doors or junctions, until they reached a set of doors nearly twice the size of any they had encountered before.
"Ron'Mora," Kriitan said quietly, "look at the size of that."
"I think it's meant for the Gue'ron'sha," Korso observed. "Looks like something built to their proportions."
He was right. While the ship's passages were wide enough for the armored giants to move through, this door had been designed specifically for them.
Mira scanned the symbols carved into the surface. His auto-translator rendered the text into Tau'sia.
One line stole his breath.
"And they shall know no fear."
Mira muttered the words aloud without realizing it.
A chill crept up his spine. The rest of the La'rua stared at him as if he had grown a fifth finger.
"Well," Eldi said after a moment, "then we will have to teach them fear. Nirva—breaching charge. Everyone else, prepare for dynamic entry."
Three.
Two.
One.
The breaching charge tore the door from its frame. Mira hurled a pulse grenade through the opening a heartbeat later. When the detonation echoed back, the strike team surged inside.
They entered a large antechamber containing three massive doors, each marked with additional Gue'ron'sha script. Mira's HUD translated the symbols as his gaze swept across them.
The left door: Drop Bay.
The right: Barracks.
The center doors were different—taller, broader, oversized even by Gue'ron'sha standards. Mira stepped closer and laid a hand against them.
They were made of real wood.
He looked up at the inscription.
Arming and Armoring Chapel.
Chapel.
The word was unfamiliar to Mira. The rest of the inscription only deepened his confusion. Assuming it was some manner of mistranslation, he blink-sent the phrase to the Water Caste linguists for later review.
Eldi signaled Mira and Nirva to form up behind her in a wedge. Korso and Kriitan braced on either side of the doors.
At Eldi's signal, the doors were thrown open.
The strike team surged inside.
Huddled together, obviously frightened, were dozens of children. Dressed in simple gray tunics, barefoot, their heads shaved, they clustered tightly together. They had been startled by the sudden entry of the Fire Warriors and pressed closer to one another.
They each held a weapon.
A knife here, a crossbow there—every armament painfully primitive even compared to the standard issue of the Gue'la.
"These are… juveniles," Eldi said carefully.
"Are they Gue'ron'sha children?" Korso asked.
"They're armed," Mira observed.
"They're frightened," Nirva said as he approached the wide-eyed children slowly. Carefully. He mag-locked his pulse blaster to his side and reached for his helmet. He lowered himself to one knee and removed it.
Shocked gasps rippled through their ranks.
Nirva made a series of soothing sounds as he extended his hand. One boy at the front showed far more courage than the others. Instead of cowering, he stood as if shielding the rest with his body. He relaxed slightly at the sight of Nirva's outstretched hand.
Nirva waved him closer, gently encouraging the boy as he stepped forward, closer and closer.
Mira saw the knife in the boy's hand.
Nirva never did.
The blade flashed once—quick and practiced—sliding up beneath Nirva's chin and opening his throat in a single, efficient cut.
Nirva made a wet, surprised sound and dropped to his knees. Blood poured between his fingers as he tried, futilely, to stem it. He collapsed forward, still twitching.
For half a heartbeat, the chapel was silent.
Then the children surged.
"CONTACT—" Eldi shouted.
Pulse fire filled the space.
Mira reacted on training alone. He fired into the mass, targeting center of motion.
His squad moved as one, forming a firing line as the chapel erupted into chaos.
It was over quickly.
But not quickly enough.
"Nirva!" Mira shouted as he rushed to the fallen Fire Warrior. He dropped to his knees and cradled his first comrade in his arms. Desperately, he sprayed wound foam into the slit throat, but it was already too late. The few micro-decs of the firefight had been enough for Nirva's heart to pump out most of his blood.
Nirva lay weak in Mira's arms, able only to gargle and choke on words that would never form. Finally—mercifully—he slipped into unconsciousness and died moments later.
Mira tried to fight back his sobs, but failed.
Eldi stepped in front of him, knelt, and wrapped Mira in a brief embrace. He whispered privately into Mira's hearing slits.
"We've all lost comrades today. I know it hurts worse than any wound—but you need to carry on. I'd be telling Nirva the same thing if it had been you."
Mira nodded and gently lowered his friend's body to the deck.
When he rose to his feet, Korso and Kriitan embraced him as well. First La'rua of Inspiring Wind had trained together since their induction into the Fire Academy.
They had been close.
More than half of them were dead now.
The moment was shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps.
Thump
Thump
Thump
Mira's audio receivers amplified the sound of labored breathing.
Thump
Thump
Thump
Something enormous blocked the light pouring in through the chapel doors. Mira recognized the silhouette, and something primal inside him screamed for him to run.
But run where?
The only exit he could identify was now blocked by the figure.
It let out a rasped, screaming battle cry—one harsh word that Mira's auto-translator scrawled across his display.
"HORRRRRUSSSSSS!?!"