[Book Excerpt| Elemental Council] A Space Marine witnesses peace between Humans and Xenos

Context: Raptor Space Marine Artmax spends this entire novel executing a scheme to manipulate the Tau into massacring the human population of a newly conquered planet, thus creating disunity between the different species of the Tau Empire on nearby planets. Although initially successful, his plan is ultimately foiled by an Ethereal who survives an assassination attempt and manages to get both the Tau and human rebels to back down at the last moment.

What I find fascinating about this scene is the sheer disbelief in the Space Marine as he witnesses this. Both in the Tau who managed to restrain themselves from slaughtering the rebelling humans and the human rebels who actually lay down their weapons. Years of hypno-indoctrination as an aspirant and centuries of combat as a fully fledged Battle Brother are telling him that what he is witnessing his impossible. At yet this is what he witnesses in his last moments.

In the main feed, the (Tau) hunters in the diplomatic core traded fire with (human) guerrillas in the surrounding levels. Orcas and Devilfish disgorged auxiliaries and fire warriors, who prepared to open fire from behind shifting Tidewall shieldlines. Gun drone clouds flitted through the enclosed skies like bees. The situation verged on a massacre. If Artamax was right, once it happened, there would be no turning back.

Swordlight tapped her helmet aerial. ‘All stations, hold fire. Do not open fire on the humans. This is Swordlight of Vior’la. Hold your fire!’

In the feed, doubt rippled through the assembled hunters, who glanced to their team leaders for clarification. The gleaming crimson slug of gore in Artamax’s neck spurted dark ruby. The resistance seemed to have left him, as if witnessing the reduction of his adversary to Imperial butchery had satisfied the purpose of his existence.

‘They will do what they must,’ he said. ‘All empires do.’

In the imagery, Devilfish manoeuvred on rooftops and high walkways, deploying more hunters around geodesic domes that studded the levels surrounding the diplomatic district’s sweeping square. Missile impacts blasted stonewood and flaming composite fragments into the crowd, and rioters hurled improvised promethium bombs in response. The glass grenades shattered and exploded against floating shieldlines, testing their energy fields. The coalition forces herded the crowd like cattle, preparing to fire.

‘Do not fire!’ Swordlight chanted into the uplink vainly. Artamax was right, the hunters would do what they must.

The Space Marine chuckled, his squelching laughter like a handful of shells tossed into a drum of promethium. ‘You delay the inevitable.’

Swordlight’s heart pounded. Something in her was about to crack. Something sick; something vicious. Orr had been right. She was fragile. She had been here before. She would be here again.

Ke’s suit groaned as she struggled to her hooves. ‘Fireblade,’ she said. ‘Something’s happening.’

Breathless with fury, Swordlight gazed at the feed. Fire warriors and auxiliaries had lowered their weapons and were clearing a path. Two Crisis battlesuits touched down on their flanks, their sensor heads swivelling and alert. Downdraught from their jetpacks whipped dirt and dead leaves into the seething human mob. For one excruciating breath, the violence ceased.

[...]

The ethereal passed his staff to a fire warrior, then limped into the human crowd, his arms spread, palms raised. His mouth opened – and he began to speak. Swordlight couldn’t hear him. She could hardly make out the movements of his lips through the distance and low fidelity of the drone feed. Yet somewhere in her shaking heart, she knew precisely what he was saying. The words were burnt into her people’s soul.

They had been the same at Fio’taun, as the blazing sun of ancient T’au rose over the cooling siege fires, as hateful plains hunters lowered their black-powder weapons and the stalwart defenders of the earth caste fortress emerged from their cannon-laden bastion to make peace. He spoke of unity. Of the holy purpose engraved into the heart of every t’au in the ages that had passed since the fires of Fio’taun had cooled and the spheres of the Empire had bloomed. He spoke of peace.

‘What is this?’ Artamax hissed flatly, bloody mucus dribbling from his nose, sizzling on his lips. A current of emotion ran from the tips of Swordlight’s fingers to the base of her spine.

‘The truth,’ she said, hardly a whisper. ‘We are stronger together than apart.’

‘Lies,’ Artamax said. ‘I lit… I lit fury in the mortals’ souls. They will… resist.’

‘It is only the truth,’ Swordlight breathed. ‘And there would be a place for you, too, hunter. If you are ready.’

Artamax did not answer. Swordlight regarded him and saw he had not heard her. He was already dead, his eyes grey, his soul still.