Uro-ik v’alh Battleship Yammka’s Sword
Corulus System, Bormea Sector, Core Worlds
Day 131, 29 ABY

‘I will not hear this heresy!’

The Supreme Commander slammed his fists into his seat’s armrests, making the polyps rupture, and splattering pus coloured globules of bodily fluid across his chest. The thorns in the base of his chair recoiled and dug deeper into his spine and legs.

‘The gods would not have allowed the Supreme Overlord to fall!’

As if on cue, a swarm of qaana beetles on the wall behind Varesh started clacking their mandibles in a soothing rhythm, their ethereal sound intended to stem the commander’s rage. But not this time. He slashed his other arm backwards, his tsaisi uncoiling to spray a cloud across the unwelcome sound, causing the insects to scuttle out of sight, after which the tsaisi curled back around his arm again.

The subaltern stood his ground. ‘True that may be,’ Aarn said, ‘but we have received a direct order from the Warmaster himself to stand down and return to Yuuzhan’tar.’

‘And how exactly did we receive this order out here in the middle of nowhere? With the local defence fleet crippled by some unknown plague? And with our villip choir inoperable?’ The rising condescension in Varesh’s voice must have been palpable since the walls of the Yammka itself spasmed.

The subaltern swallowed. ‘Our villip choir picked the request up on the infidels’ HoloNet from the mabugat kan.’

A long moment passed while Varesh held his gaze on the much younger warrior. The subaltern could not have been more than fifteen cycles. This was what he was forced to work with: children. Amateurs not fit to brandish an amphistaff. The gods may have abandoned him, stuck him on a lifeless planet in the depths of space, but surely they would not have forsaken their chosen prophet? Their khattazz al'Yun? The voice of the Creator himself!?

No. Varesh thought as much. This so-called ‘order’ was heresy.

And the Warmaster was clearly a heretic. Perhaps even the ‘false prophet’ Yu’shaa himself, of the Jeedai heresy that had already cost so many domains their warriors’ lives.

‘Nothing changes,’ Varesh finally answered. ‘If Yuuzhan’tar indeed has fallen then Nas Choka’s orders are the work of the Trickster.’ He reclined back into his throne. ‘I receive my instructions only from the Supreme Overlord.’

He turned to Romm, who as usual was seated in the main cognition chair. ‘Commander, withdraw to deep space where we will await further orders. If Yuuzhan’tar is a trap, then we will not rise to the bait. We shall follow Shimrra into exile and regroup.’

Aarn cautioned a step forward. ‘I must object, dread one! A Slayer you may be—’

A gargled cry cut the warrior short as a figure emerged from the shadows and speared the subaltern through the throat. Blood spilled from Aarn’s mouth and he collapsed to the floor, hunching over while his life bled out across the coral. The new figure placed a boot atop the young warrior's face and ground Aarn’s skull into the jagged yorik coral until there was a sharp crack. ‘And a Slayer he is.’

Varesh snorted a dry laugh. ‘I see you share my position, Tsaak.’

The warrior-seer stepped forward, face and chest smeared with blood in ritual designs.

‘The Supreme Overlord lives until I see his body,’ Tsaak said. ‘What of Nas Choka?’

‘What of him?’ Varesh spat. ‘The Warmaster has surrendered. Sided with Zonama Sekot.’ He said the name of the so-called ‘living planet’ as if it were a curse. Varesh stood up, not retracting the thorns imbedded in his throne so they could tear through his skin instead. ‘Until such time as the Supreme One returns and says otherwise, I will be Warmaster.’