Trail by Smith Chapter 10: Shadows Among Savages

Chapter 10: Shadows Among Savages

The jungles of Kaelon, though dark and foreboding, were no match for the stealth systems of the XV95 Ghostkeel Battlesuit. Its matte-black armor blended seamlessly with the gloom, the faint shimmer of its cloaking field the only trace of its passage. The pilot, nameless and unmarked, moved with silent precision, navigating the dense foliage toward the heart of the Ork fortress.

The Ghostkeel had no place among the rigid hierarchy of the Tau military, its pilot a rogue operative whose loyalty extended only to the survival of the Tau Empire. The mission was clear: uncover the truth behind Krugskull Ironjaw’s Waaagh. Reports of its scale and coordination defied the usual chaotic nature of Ork warfare, and the Tau command needed answers.

The fortress loomed ahead, a sprawling amalgamation of looted machinery, twisted metal, and crude defenses. Towers of rusted steel bristled with ramshackle guns, while banners of red and black fluttered in the acrid wind. The jungle floor was alive with the activity of Orks—thousands of them—hammering, shouting, and preparing for their next assault.

The Ghostkeel’s cloaking field shimmered as it slipped past sentries, its systems dampening any sound or thermal signature. The pilot’s HUD marked key areas of interest: an armory overflowing with crude explosives, pens holding captured Kroot mercenaries, and finally, the central command structure—a grotesque tower adorned with glyphs and the severed heads of Tau and Imperial soldiers.

Inside, Krugskull Ironjaw bellowed orders, his massive frame dwarfing the surrounding Orks. His crude power klaw snapped menacingly as he berated his lieutenants.

“Why ain’t we already smashed dem blue-skins?!” Krugskull roared, his jagged teeth glinting in the dim light. “I wants dis jungle burned! I wants da outpost crushed! An’ I wants it now!”

The Orks around him shuffled nervously, their bravado dampened by their Warboss’s fury. But then, a crackling vox transmission filled the room, its static-laden voice commanding instant attention.

“Krugskull,” the voice growled, deep and guttural. “Dis is Gorzag Skullrippa.”

Krugskull’s bravado evaporated as he stood at attention, his massive frame trembling slightly. “Boss Skullrippa! Uh… wot a surprise!”

The transmission continued, the voice filled with menace. “Kaelon was supposed to be a quick fight. A laugh. But here you is, still muckin’ about in da jungle while da Tau hold da line.”

Krugskull stammered, his usual confidence replaced by fear. “Da Tau’s tougher than we thought, Boss. But don’t worry—I’ll finish ‘em off soon!”

Gorzag’s voice was cold and unforgiving. “You better. I’m bringin’ da Rippa’s Glory down ta Kaelon meself. If you ain’t won by da time I get dere, I’ll smash you first. And den, I’ll crater dat outpost meself.”

The transmission ended with a burst of static, leaving Krugskull and his lieutenants in tense silence. The Warboss quickly regained his composure, smashing his klaw into a nearby table.

“You lot heard da Boss!” Krugskull bellowed. “We’z gotta get movin’! Prepare da Boyz, da tanks, and da burnas! We’z gonna make Kaelon bleed!”

The Ghostkeel pilot, hidden in the shadows, recorded every word. But Krugskull’s words weren’t the most damning revelation. The true threat came from above—aboard the Rippa’sGlory.

High above Kaelon, the massive Ork warship loomed in orbit, its bulk an ugly mass of jagged metal and looted starship hulls. In its command chamber, Gorzag Skullrippa, a towering Warboss clad in crude yet imposing armor, leaned against a throne made of twisted steel and bones. His yellow eyes glinted with cunning as he stared at the Mekboy kneeling before him.

“Da Wellspring,” Gorzag growled, his voice like grinding metal. “It’s real, innit?”

The Mekboy nodded eagerly, his bulbous eyes wide with excitement. “Aye, Boss! Da legends say it’s deep in da jungle on Kaelon. Not just water—it’s power, old power. Any Warboss wot controls it could be unstoppable!”

Gorzag grinned, his jagged teeth glinting in the dim light. “Krugskull don’t know nothin’ about it, does he?”

The Mekboy shook his head. “Nah, Boss. He thinks he’s just fightin’ fer da Waaagh. He ain’t got no clue wot’s really on Kaelon.”

Gorzag chuckled darkly, the sound echoing through the chamber. “Good. Let ‘im think he’s da Boss fer now. When I get down dere, I’ll deal with dem blue-skins meself. An’ when da fight’s done, da Wellspring’ll be mine.”

The Mekboy hesitated. “Uh… Boss, wot if Krugskull finds out?”

Gorzag’s grin vanished, replaced by a snarl. “Den he’ll learn why no one crosses Gorzag Skullrippa.”

The Mekboy wisely fell silent as Gorzag’s gaze turned back to the planet below. The Warboss could almost feel the power of the Wellspring calling to him, promising victory, glory, and more.

The Ghostkeel returned to the Tau outpost just before dawn. The matte-black Battlesuit shimmered back into visibility only after crossing the defensive perimeter, its sudden appearance startling the guards.

Shas’ui Mal’kera was among those who noticed the commotion. His battered form straightened as he watched the Battlesuit stride into the camp. For a moment, his jaw tightened—proof that his story of being saved was not a hallucination.

Before he could approach, Commander T’ralor intervened, his imposing figure stepping between Mal’kera and the Ghostkeel. T’ralor’s expression was unreadable, but the subtle tilt of his head was enough to communicate authority.

“T’ralor…” Mal’kera began, his voice heavy with unspoken questions.

The Commander cut him off with a raised hand. “You have your duties, Shas’ui. I will handle this.”

Mal’kera hesitated, his eyes flicking between T’ralor and the mysterious Ghostkeel pilot, before nodding reluctantly and walking away.

T’ralor turned to the Ghostkeel, his voice low. “We need to talk. Privately.”

The pilot stepped down from the cockpit, their face obscured beneath a shadowy helmet. Without a word, they followed the Commander into a nearby structure, their figures disappearing into the dim light.

As the camp stirred with rumors and speculation, Mal’kera glanced toward the closed doors. He could feel the weight of something larger than he understood pressing down on them all. The war for Kaelon was shifting, and the presence of the enigmatic pilot only deepened the mysteries surrounding it.

Inside the blue light lit structure, the Ghostkeel pilot stood motionless, their imposing frame towering over the table where Commander T’ralor had spread a holographic map of the region. The Commander’s eyes flicked up briefly as the pilot extracted a small data module and placed it on the table.

“What did you find?” T’ralor asked, his voice sharp.

The pilot’s voice emerged, modulated and flat, betraying no emotion. “The Waaagh is more coordinated than we expected. Krugskull Ironjaw is receiving orders from a higher-ranking Warboss—Gorzag Skullrippa. He’s on a warship in orbit, and he’s coming here. Soon.”

T’ralor’s hand paused over the map. “Gorzag Skullrippa…” His brow furrowed. “Why would an Ork Warboss of his stature concern himself with Kaelon? This planet is strategically valuable, but not that valuable.”

“There’s more,” the pilot continued, their tone unwavering. “There’s a source of power in the jungle. The Orks call it the Wellspring. If Gorzag takes it, he’ll be unstoppable. Krugskull knows nothing of it. Gorzag intends to claim it for himself after wiping us out.”

T’ralor exhaled sharply, his expression darkening. He tapped a point on the holographic map where the Ork fortress was located. “And you recorded all of this?”

The pilot nodded. “Every word. It’s in the module.”

T’ralor stared at the data module for a moment, then back at the pilot. “You’ve done well. But you continue to evade my questions. Who are you? You’ve been operating in the shadows, outside the command structure, and yet you expect me to trust you.”

The pilot’s helmeted head tilted slightly. “My identity doesn’t matter, Commander. The mission matters. The survival of the Tau Empire matters.”

T’ralor’s jaw tightened. “It does matter. I lead these warriors. I can’t afford unknown variables in my command. If you want my trust, you’ll reveal yourself.”

The pilot remained silent, their stance unchanged. The tension in the room thickened until T’ralor turned away abruptly, shaking his head.

“Fine,” he muttered, his tone laced with frustration. “Keep your secrets. But know this—I don’t trust ghosts.”

As he strode toward the door, he paused briefly, his back still to the pilot. “Your intel is valuable. I’ll ensure it reaches the higher echelons. But for now, I have duties to attend to.”

Without waiting for a response, T’ralor exited the room, leaving the Ghostkeel pilot alone in the shadows. Outside, the Commander’s steps carried him toward the hangar where his XV88 Broadside Battlesuit awaited. T’ralor ran a hand over the cold armor of the battlesuit, its form a reminder of the brutal efficiency the Tau required to survive in this hostile galaxy.

He muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the hum of the camp. “We fight for the Greater Good, but even among us, there are shadows."