We do not fear myth.

  We study it, measure it, and reshape our response.

  For even legend must bow to reason.

  Aun’Ko’res sat in her position within the council. As the junior-most Ethereal present, she sat at the right hand of Aun’Rel, the lead expedition Ethereal. His role was to guide all species of the Empire within the campaign. Hers was to observe — and to learn.

  The council chamber was cool and open, light emanating through high apertures. The discussion moved from success in orbit to ground preparation, from casualty reports to projected resistance.

  Ko’res had been listening at one point, but had soon lost herself.

  In her mind, she heard only the weapon. The thunder of it. The wet tearing sound that followed.

  “Aun’ui?”

  A gentle hand rested upon her shoulder.

  She started, then bowed her head. “Forgive me. I was… reflecting.”

  Aun’Rel regarded her with soft patience. “You wished to address the council.”

  “I did. Thank you, Aun’Rel.”

  She rose and stepped into the center of the chamber. Speaking publicly before Fire Warriors was effortless. Speaking privately with her own caste required something closer to courage.

  “Thank you for this opportunity to speak. When last I stood in your presence, a few short rotaa ago, I requested to join our Brave Warriors in their battle against the Gue’la. You approved, and I chose what was identified as the most dangerous action — the Gue’ron’sha ship.”

  She paused and scanned the faces of her fellow Ethereals. Several Aun inclined their heads. If the word had any impact on them, they hid it well.

  “I returned,” she continued. “Many did not.”

  Silence settled.

  “We lost nearly three cadres. Acceptable casualty figures, by command assessment.”

  No one corrected her.

  She drew a breath, steadying herself.

  “The fleet honors its fallen. Preparations for planetary engagement proceed without delay. I wish to draw attention to one Shas’la D’yanoi Mira.”

  Aun’Ha’tali tapped her datapad. “He was with First La’rua of Cadre Inspiring Wind, but nothing distinguishes him as yet.”

  “That is correct. But the record should be amended. He is a survivor of that boarding action. Very few made it off that ship. He is one of two who directly engaged the Gue’ron’sha berserker and survived. And he saved my life.”

  A slight shift passed through the chamber.

  “You were in direct danger?” asked Aun’Has’tel.

  Ko’res inhaled to steady herself. Speaking about — or even thinking about — the event brought back unwelcome memories and thoughts she did not wish to entertain.

  “I was never intended to be. I remained at the hangar, offering praise and inspiration to our wounded and to reinforcements as they departed. Shas’la Mira and Shas’Nel Skysword arrived. They warned me of what was coming. I did not heed their words.”

  Her throat tightened.

  “As a consequence, my honor guard were forced to lay down their lives to defend me while honored Fireblade Skysword rushed me into the Orca.”

  She held their gaze.

  “Shas’la Mira stood at the ramp of the Orca and placed himself between myself and the enemy. He expected death. Yet he did not retreat.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “That is commendable,” Aun’Rel said quietly. “And what do you seek for this warrior?”

  “Recognition,” she replied. “Elevation to Shas’ui. His composure under such trial marks readiness to lead.”

  Aun’Ha’tali did not look up from her datapad.

  “Shas’la Mira has served six kai’rotaa in active capacity. Promotion to Shas’ui requires two tau’cyr.”

  Ko’res remained still.

  “He has endured a trial of fire.”

  “He has survived one,” Aun’Rel replied gently. “Survival does not yet prove steadiness across cycles.”

  “To advance him now,” Aun’Ha’tali added, “would be a disservice to himself and to his comrades. He will be raised when he is ready.”

  The words were calm. Not dismissive. Not cruel.

  Ko’res inclined her head slowly.

  “I do not intend disservice. I merely fear we may overlook what we require.”

  Aun’Rel folded his hands.

  “We will not overlook him.”

  A pause.

  “The Gue’ron’sha have deployed to the planet’s surface,” he continued. “In response, Hunter-Killer Cadres are being formed.”

  Ko’res understood.

  “You intend to transfer him.”

  “He has faced them,” Aun’Rel said. “That experience has value. So he will face them again.”

  Ko’res bowed.

  “Then he will serve where he is most needed.”

  “He will,” Aun’Rel agreed. “Thank you all for joining us. You are dismissed and may return to your charges. Aun’Ha’tali, Aun’Kais, and Aun’Ko’res, please call in your expedition commanders. We have much to discuss.”

  The sound of wooden staves striking one another echoed off the stone walls of the training chamber. Mira and Skysword both breathed heavily, though Mira in particular felt his body screaming at him to slow down.

  He refused.

  He shifted his stance, forcing movement into his legs, keeping his blood flowing.

  Skysword, by contrast, took his time between attacks. Each pause was deliberate. He forced Mira to wrestle not only with the fight in front of him, but with the instinct to rush or freeze.

  “Breathe, Shas’la,” Skysword said calmly. “You move well. But your breath will sap more of your strength than you realize.”

  Mira nodded.

  His eyes dipped for half a heartbeat.

  Skysword struck.

  The Fireblade wielded a long stave meant to mirror the ceremonial honor blade carried during formal observances. He used it as it was taught in academy duels — measured, precise — but just as often he shifted his grip and lengthened his reach, mimicking the sweeping arcs of a Gue’ron’sha sword.

  Mira, by contrast, carried only a wooden facsimile of a bonding knife.

  He had to close the distance.

  This time, he committed.

  He deflected a downward strike and slid his knife along the length of the stave, trapping it briefly against the upper guard.

  For a fraction of a second, he thought he had him.

  Skysword’s knee drove into his abdomen.

  Air fled Mira’s lungs. He collapsed to the floor with a groan, his training blade clattering across the stone.

  Skysword kicked the weapon away in one smooth motion, reversed his grip, and pressed the blunt tip of the stave to Mira’s throat.

  The memory of ceramite armor filling his vision flashed unbidden behind his eyes.

  “That was brave, Shas’la,” he said evenly. “But bravery without judgment will only get you killed.”

  Skysword pulled the stave from Mira’s throat and extended his hand. Mira accepted it and was pulled to his feet.

  They both heard the door slide open. Mira turned to see who entered.

  Mira did not recognize him, but Skysword did.

  “Commander Stillwaters,” he said, inclining his head. “It is good to see you.”

  “And you, my friend.” The commander paced slowly along the edge of the chamber, studying them both without hurry.

  “Commander, this is Shas’la D’yanoi Mira. Mira, this is Shas’O T’au Kais Nalo.”

  Mira bowed at the waist.

  “I am honored, Commander.”

  “As am I, Shas’la. I have heard much about you. The legendary Shas who fought a Gue’ron’sha and still breathes to tell about it.”

  The commander’s words were sharp, on the edge of an accusation. Mira felt Skysword shift beside him.

  “Your account is imprecise, Commander.”

  “Oh? Then you did not stab the Gue’ron’sha in the neck with your team leader’s knife?”

  “That is correct, Commander. But I did not fight it alone, and the engagement was recorded during debrief. I did not embellish it.”

  “You do not deny your actions?”

  “Never, Commander.”

  Commander Stillwaters nodded slowly as he paced.

  “You will do.”

  Skysword looked between Mira and Stillwaters. “He’ll do for what, Commander?”

  “He has been assigned to my cadre, and I have been recommended to place him with my lead Pathfinder team. I came to see what type of warrior he was.”

  Mira straightened slightly. “I will serve where required.”

  “I expect that you will.”

  Nalo turned to Skysword.

  “And you, Skysword. I understand that you are also without assignment.”

  “Yes. I have been waiting to see who the new expedition commander would be, and whether he had need of a Fireblade.”

  “Well, wait no longer. I hear that Shas’O Sa’cea Jhi’kel has been selected. And he is in need of a Fireblade.”

  “Jhi’kel is a disciplined choice. I will be glad to serve under him if he accepts me.”

  “Well, I know that a Hunter-Killer Cadre is not command of the entire Expedition, but I can promise it will be in closer proximity to the enemy. And I would be honored to have you at my side in Shas’ka Kor’vash.”

  “Measured Response? That is what you named your cadre?”

  “No. It is what the Elemental Council named it. It was just formed. They pulled some very highly experienced La’rua for me.”

  “I thought all the cadres were formed before we left D’yanoi. Why the sudden shuffle?”

  Nalo’s gaze returned to Mira.

  “The Gue’ron’sha.”

  A pause. Mira felt the weight settle in his chest.

  “I find it curious,” Nalo continued. “We say we are not ruled by legend. Yet we adjust our doctrine when confronted by one.”