Passions of a Monat

Tags: Tau, Female MC, Corruption, Long build up, ongoing, light smut, gue’vesa love
G-Doc: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JWMNAlqypFxJsEZhls_icD7v1jyt0hyjwGmkXwV8yDM/edit?usp=sharing

---

Chapter 1 - Jan 19, 2019

Impact in three…
Two…
One…

A thunderous thump signalled the arrival of a lone battlesuit on the battlefield. The Class 10 XV109 Y’vahra towered over the Y’he forces in the area, like a looming specter of death. Death that quickly came in the form of fire as hot as plasma. The triple barrels of the battlesuit’s flamer vomited destruction in a wide arc, turning the Y’he into smouldering biomasses and piles of ash. The Y’he surged towards their attacker, scores of genestealers and termagants leaping forward at the behest of the Y’he Warriors towards the rear. Their numbers were so great that it seemed as if the lone Tau would be overwhelmed in moments.

But that was how she preferred it.

Shas'El Vior'la Fir'ha Kais Mont'yr relished being a Monat. While there may have been strength in numbers, being able to operate on her own provided a certain type of freedom. No squadmates needing protection, no worries about collateral damage. The only thing she had to rely on was her battlesuit and her own skills. The former had never failed her, and the latter had kept her alive for over twenty tau’cyr. She was a savant among her caste. An artist in combat. Her paint was the blood of her enemies.

A sweep of her plasma flamer incinerated the leading wave of Y’he. The Y’he behind that impacted harmlessly against Fir’ha’s armor. She whirled on the spot, tearing the lower lifeforms off of her with the same effort it took to breathe. Her suit’s hooves came down on their skulls, splitting them open like fresh fruit. Smaller Y’he forms like this had no chance of defeating her. She could tear through them with ease for as long as her Nova Reactor would allow. And while she wasn’t privy to the technical operational limits of her suit, Fir’ha did know that it was more likely she’d run out of Y’he to kill than her reactor running dry.

One of the other benefits of Fir’ha’s battlesuit was the seamless integration between its sensors and her vision. A red triangle flashed in her periphery, prompting her to turn towards where the Warrior forms had been before. They had been replaced by two carnifexes. The hulking, powerful Y’he began to rush at her, but it was too late. By then Fir’ha’s Discharge Cannon had finished spooling up. She leveled it in the direction of the Carnifexes, braced herself, and fired.

The result was spectacular. A lance of white energy cut through everything between Fir’ha and the carnifexes. What biomass survived was wracked with an electrical discharge so potent that it cooked the remains instantaneously. As for the Carnifexes themselves, Fir’ha had aimed her shot so as to hit the lead Y’he head-on. A hole could be seen all the way through its form. It toppled over, crumpling and twitching on the spot. Its fellow lost the limbs on the right side of its body, bringing it to a skidding stop before Fir’ha. With cool, professional detachment, she placed one hoof on the thing’s chest, aimed her plasma flamer, and dispatched it. Then she returned to mop up what paltry resistance remained.

A dec later, Fir’ha returned to her extraction point with only a single dent in her battlesuit. Waiting for her was an Orca Dropship already packed with other Fire Warriors. These were simple troops, though, lower-ranked Shas’las and their Shas’ui. As such, they all bowed their head in reverence as Fir’ha took up a spot in the rear in silence. It was an honor to share the same dropship as her. She had amassed such an impressive service record during this Ksi’m’yen campaign alone to earn her promotion to Shas’O should she ever desire it. She was the stuff of legends, the kind of Fire Warrior all the por’hui throughout the Tau Empire used to motivate the citizenry and tempt other species into joining the Empire.

And yet this meant she was alone.

Sure, she had a dedicated Earth Caste team (led by one Fio’Ui T’au Gir’vren) that maintained her battlesuit. And she had to practically beat off would-be apprentices and eager Shas’las who wished to hear some of her stories. But otherwise Fir’ha had no attachments to others. She was Monat, both on and off the battlefield. She had learned long ago, during her time as a Shas’la, the importance of self-sacrifice. If being alone meant she could better serve the Tau’va, the Greater Good, then so be it.

“Excuse me, El’Fir’ha.”

Fir’ha swiveled her head to look down at one of the Fire Warriors seated next to the bay where she now stood. She’d completely missed the rear door closing and the Orca taking off in her reverie. Using her battlesuit’s speaker, she replied plainly, “Yes, Shas’la?”

Or at least she thought she did. The Fire Warrior seemed to shrink at her voice, his own practically a squeak as he replied, “W-Well you see… I am due to undertake the Trial by Fire in the coming Rotaas. I was hoping you might have some words of wisdom.”

Ah. Her first instinct was to tell him that perhaps he need work on his courage if her voice alone was enough to frighten him. But then she thought better of it. Instead, she answered, “How long have you been on Ksi’m’yen?”

“Two tau’cyr, El’Fir’ha.”

“And during that time, have you performed with distinction?”

The Shas’la hesitated. “I think so, yes.”

“You think or you know?” Fir’ha said, emphasizing the difference. “If you yourself do not believe you are worthy of becoming a Shas’ui, then why should others? Or to put it another way: how do you expect to lead if you cannot lead yourself?”

By now the whole of the Orca was listening to this conversation. Fir’ha watched as the Fire Warrior withered under everyone’s attention. “I… I see. Thank you, El’Fir’ha…”

One of his fellows laughed openly and soon the rest joined in. Most offered words of praise and jokes for daring to speak to Fir’ha. Only a few of the insults offered were said with any form of malice or the intent thereof. As normal conversation broke out among them, Fir’ha was left in silence once more. With nothing else to do during transit, she disengaged most of her links to her battlesuit and relaxed in the cockpit. She kept the audio and visual link active to the outside, though it remained on the edge of her consciousness.

The cockpit was fairly roomy, all things considered. It was designed such that she sat and leaned forward onto a curved, padded section. On either side were control interfaces specifically designed for Fir’ha herself. They were shaped like tonfas, able to transmit even the slightest movement to the rest of the suit. Plugs and support umbilicals connected to Fir’ha’s black undersuit at regular intervals. It was through them that she received data, including feeling, of her greater battlesuit. When fully engaged, there was little distinction of where she ended and her suit began.

Thus, with the interface mostly disabled, Fir’ha was able to take stock of her own condition. She felt a distant pang of hunger but was otherwise in peak form. She could instantly resume combat operations without pause, a skill learned over the many tau’cyr of her service. Another skill was the ability to rest in even the worst conditions. Somewhere between meditation and actual sleep, the trance-like state Fir’ha submerged herself in renewed both body and mind. By the time the Orca touched down once more, she felt even better than she had before.

Fir’ha was first off the dropship. It had brought her to one of the forward operating bases where her support crew waited for her. Ui’Gir’vren met her at the end of the ramp with a smile. “Another successful sortie, Shas’el?” he said.

“Indeed, Fio’ui,” she replied as the pair of them made for the battlesuit service area. “Your latest modifications worked beautifully.”

“I am glad to have been of use. These XV109s are relatively untested in greater theatres of war. You have provided excellent operational data to that effect.” He paused, and they walked in silence for a time. As the support structures and Earth Caste workers came into view, Ui’Gir’vren asked, “I do not believe I have ever asked this of you, but how do you feel about gue’la?”

Humans? Why would he ask such a thing? “I have always wanted to test myself against Gue’ron’sha, if that is what you mean.”

Ui’Gir’vren shook his head. “Perhaps I should be more clear. I have recently been assigned five Gue’vesa to aid in my work. With the lack of other Earth Caste, this means I will have more time to support other battlesuits.”

“You mean to leave my suit’s maintenance to them?” Fir’ha asked with a hint of worry.

“Some of the basic tasks, yes. Nothing that requires knowledge of the suit’s functionality or our technology. They will handle things such as replacing the EMP coils and cleaning your plasma flamer.”

This sounded like a terrible idea to Fir’ha. But as the ranking Earth Caste, Ui’Gir’vren had the authority to do as he liked so long as the battlesuits he was responsible for continued to function. And among the many teachings of the Tau was that one should nurture the alien to help them accept their place in the Greater Good. So it was with reserved judgement that she replied, “Very well.”

That seemed to satisfy Ui’Gir’vren. Sure enough, as Fir’ha guided her battlesuit into the support frame, she noticed five pink-skinned gue’vesa waiting off to the side. Two were male, the other three female. Or so her didactic memory told her. The very same implanted knowledge allowed her to understand their speech and to speak it as well. For the moment, the gue’vesa were discussing who they might be serving. They clearly had no idea who Fir’ha was.

Once situated in the frame, the access hatch of Fir’ha’s battlesuit popped open. All the tubing connected to her undersuit hissed and retracted, allowing her to slip out unhindered and lower herself to the ground. Four of the gue’vesa nodded at her with respect as they rushed forward with Ui’Gir’vren to begin their work. The other, though, remained where he stood. His mouth hung agape in an expression Fir’ha could not place. His eyes were locked firmly on her form as she moved towards him.

“You are new, yes?” Fir’ha asked once she was within arm’s reach. She had about thirty tor’il of height on him, meaning he had to look up at her.

“I… I am,” the gue’vesa replied simply when he found his tongue.

“Then you know your purpose is to work. Staring at me does not accomplish this.”

“I… of course. It’s just…” He looked away, cheeks flushing red.

Fir’ha’s knowledge, implanted or otherwise, failed her in identifying what this reaction meant. “Just what, exactly?”

Ui’Gir’vren looked around Fir’ha’s suit and shouted at the gue’vesa. “Soas, do not waste the Shas’el’s time! Get over here and to work!”

Soas, as Fir’ha now knew him, gulped and began moving in that direction. Just before he was out of earshot, Fir’ha heard him mumble to himself, “I didn’t expect her to be so pretty.”

Fir’ha thought nothing further on this comment for the time being. Instead, she sought out food and refreshment. After which she returned to what faired for her quarters. The spartan room contained a military-style bed, really more of a cot, a metal crate that held her belongings, and a full-length mirror. The latter she normally used to ensure she had properly donned her undersuit, but now she looked at herself critically as she disrobed.

Her skin was darker than most Tau’s thanks to her hailing from the Vior’la sept. It was not unmarred: Every so often she could pick out a beige scar along her skin from her years of service. She also had greater muscle mass that she carefully maintained. Her breasts were more than a handful, though Fir’ha thought little of them. She paid more attention to the curvature of her muscles than of her chest. The only real oddity that set her apart (in her mind) from other Tau was her hair. Rather than the traditional bald or top-knot style, she preferred to keep her red locks shoulder-length and fanning out behind her head. It was a daily challenge to wrangle it, a self-imposed battle that Fir’ha enjoyed.

But what really mattered at the moment was the gue’vesa’s comment. It came to the forefront of her mind like a ghostly specter. Was she truly “pretty?” None of her fellow Tau had ever commented on her looks, at least not to her face. Partly because that was how Tau society functioned. Romance, or anything approaching it, was not something the Fire Caste really dealt with. Fire Warriors were conditioned not to form such bonds. They were considered a distraction, something that hindered the ability to fight. Clearly this gue’vesa, Soas, did not know that.

Fir’ha pushed the thought aside for now and moved to lay upon her bed. Yet as she attempted to doze off, the words came back to her mind again and again. Her body filled with nervous energy, growing warm in the process. She felt a deep ache in her heart for more compliments. Despite her training, she imagined Soas calling her all manner of positive things. It wasn’t until she let out a soft moan that Fir’ha realized she was touching herself. She brought her hand from between her thighs and up to her face, a feeling of embarrassment filling her as she saw the collection of her liquids on her fingers.

“I am not worthy of breeding,” she told herself sternly. “I am not allowed to think about such things.”

“But what if you did?” questioned the spectral, imagined voice of Soas. “Surely a pretty woman such as yourself deserves to feel good?”

“It does NOT feel good,” Fir’ha lied to herself.

“Then why did you moan?”

“That was… I did not moan.”

“Ah, but you did. And your nipples are fully erect. Your body is more honest than your mouth is.”

She clamped her eyes shut, trying to force such thoughts out of her mind. “I am a proud, noble Monat. I do not need… I shall not need…”

She focused on her breathing and in meditating. Slowly, but surely, the sultry thoughts that had come out of nowhere were buried beneath her usual, stoic professionalisms. Shame filled her, but she could live with shame for now.

----

Chapter 2 Soon!