On the planet's surface, the sounds of T'au resistance were growing fainter by the hour.
Vash'ya was down to his last few dozen Fire Caste warriors and a few hundred Gue'vesa. Depleted of ammunition and starving, they had retreated to the most fortified sanctum within the derelict Luna-class cruiser: the Navigator's Spire.
The chamber was a masterpiece of archaic Imperial engineering. Apart from the armored prow, this room was the most resilient part of the ship. When the blast doors were sealed, the room was insulated against both warp turbulence and direct kinetic strikes. A ship can function without a captain, but it is a drifting tomb without a Navigator.
"We're really going to die here this time," the human officer remarked, leaning against the cold bulkhead.
"Heh... yes. I didn't expect the end to come so quickly," Vash'ya replied with a weary, awkward smile. Before the signal went dark, they had received a final burst from Fleet Commander O'Dara. The situation in orbit was just as dire.
"It's a pity. The enemy fleet is larger than our projections. The Commander said they are struggling just to keep their life support online."
The human officer didn't seem to care anymore. He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, sparked one for himself, and exhaled a long trail of grey smoke.
"Hey... didn't you T'au say you had those massive mobile star-bases? The 'Battle Spheres'? Where are they now?"
"Those aren't exactly easy to move," Vash'ya sighed. "We are too far from the worlds where the Kroot station them."
The Warsphere—the massive, nomadic battle-fortress of the Kroot—was an orbital titan, larger than most cruisers and bristling with primitive but deadly weaponry. However, T'au FTL technology remained the weak link in their empire. It would take such a colossal vessel hundreds of days to reach this remote colony. By then, the Zerg would have blanketed the planet in Creep, Spore Crawlers, and Bile Launchers. Any fleet arriving that late would be flying into a hornet's nest.
"Hey, Gue'vesa... can I try one of those?" Vash'ya asked, nodding toward the cigarette.
"This?" The human officer laughed and tossed the pack over. "Go ahead. Be my guest."
Vash'ya mimicked the human's movements, lit one, took a sharp drag, and immediately descended into a fit of coughing. "What... what is the appeal of this?" he sputtered.
"Haha! I knew you wouldn't like it. Nobody likes the first one. But..." The human officer took another slow draw, his eyes glazing over as the smoke swirled around him.
He felt as if his entire life were unfolding in the embers of the cigarette. He remembered being born on this world and being told the Emperor was the supreme god of all mankind. He had believed it as a child, just like the adults did. But as he grew, the cracks began to show. The Planetary Governor lived in golden extravagance, bleeding the populace dry with taxes under the guise of "Imperial Tithes," yet half the revenue always ended up in the Governor's private vaults.
He had doubted the Imperium long ago, and he wasn't alone. Silence was their only defense against the status quo—until the T'au arrived. They began as traders, but as more people embraced the Greater Good, they realized how stagnant their lives under the Governor had been. The officer, then a member of the PDF, had been ordered to fire on the T'au. He hadn't. Instead, he joined them to overthrow the tyrant.
For a few years, the planet knew peace. But now, these new aliens—the Swarm—were taking it all back. Despair filled the Navigator's room, a heavy, suffocating silence.
"Perhaps... we were never destined for a quiet life in this galaxy."
While the ground fell into a terminal silence, the battle in space remained a frantic meat-grinder.
The T'au ships had ceased their broadside barrages, and their hangars were quiet. The Zerg had seized the flight decks, planting Fungal Growths and Creep Tumors throughout the launch bays. At the internal supply depots and ammunition vaults, however, T'au resistance remained fanatical. Even the Roaches were having trouble breaking the chokepoints.
The Swarm wasn't failing; it was encountering a "door-blocking" tactic that felt all too familiar to the Overmind. The T'au had barricaded the narrow corridors, concentrating every railgun and pulse rifle they had on the only available entrances.
"Who taught you this?" the Overmind muttered, watching the feed. "You didn't learn the 'Good' from my memories, but you picked up the most annoying defensive habits instantly. Door-blocking is the lowest form of boarding defense."
The Overmind could have simply detonated the ships, but he wanted the hulls intact. A million Zerglings were expendable; a fleet of functional T'au ships to infect was a prize.
"Still... I remember the T'au have those Kroot Warspheres. I wonder if we can use these crippled cruisers to lure one in."
Commander O'Dara was holding on by a thread. She had donned her own combat gear to help defend the primary ammunition vault. If the vault fell, they were finished. Unlike the Imperium, which could fight with bayonets, shovels, and chainswords once the bullets ran out, the T'au were almost entirely dependent on their munitions. Once the missiles and pulse cells were gone, they were defenseless.
"Commander, they're launching another wave!"
"Rotate the front line! Get those warriors back for resupply! Second echelon, move up! Full suppressive fire!"
Battered suits were dragged back, and fresh Fire Caste warriors took their place, filling the corridors with a desperate wall of pulse fire. They were few, but they were determined to hold for the few days they had left.
The Overmind watched and waited. This commercial fleet was a mere snack. He wanted the real T'au Navy to show its face.