The sounds of combat drew him from his reflection. While his mind had wandered, his body had followed its own path, carrying him to the arena where the big gue’la was duelling with a pair of drones. The saucer-like machines buzzed around the man, harassing him with low intensity lasers as he whirled about, blocking their beams with the mirror shields strapped to his wrists. His only method of retaliation was to reflect the lasers back at their source, but only a direct hit on an emitter would disable a drone, while three strikes to his torso would end the bout. Judging by their tenacity the machines had been set to max­imum aggression – a challenge even for seasoned Fire Warriors. Though the man moved with a speed that belied his bulk, it was apparent that his ambition exceeded his ability.

Like Rukh, he fights in the expectation of defeat, Kyuhai judged.

He anticipated the gue’la would meet failure with a curse, but when it came he simply said, ‘Start over.’

‘Hold,’ Kyuhai interjected and the drones froze.

The gue’la turned, surprised, then bowed his head. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude…’ He faltered, evidently unsure of the correct form of address. ‘Lord,’ he ventured. He spoke in a hoarse growl, as if his throat was damaged.

‘Seeker,’ Kyuhai corrected. His sharp eyes scanned the identity disc on the man’s tunic. ‘And the intrusion is mine, Gue’vesa’ui Voyle.’

‘I am honoured, Seeker.’

Even by the standards of his species, with their jutting snouts and curled ears, Voyle was ugly. Like all the expedition’s gue’vesa, he was shaven-headed and his skin was stained blue to mirror his liberators’ complexion, but such contrivances couldn’t soften the brutish cast of his features. His eyes were set deep in a craggy, scar-crossed wasteland that terminated in a slab-like jaw. It was a strange canvass to bear the concentric rings of Unity, yet also an eloquent one, for if such a damaged being could be redeemed then surely there was hope for the rest of its species. To the Seeker’s mind the gue’la were infinitely more dangerous than honest savages like the kroot, but equally their potential was far greater.

‘They are an ancient race, crooked with the malignancies of age,’ Kyuhai’s master had taught, ‘and yet the aeons have not diminished their passion. In time they will either become our most ardent allies or our most dire foes.’

‘You fought with skill, but chose your battle without wisdom,’ Kyuhai said. ‘To overextend oneself is to welcome defeat.’

‘I stand corrected, Seeker. My thoughts were clouded.’

‘Sleep evades you?’

‘I don’t like what it brings. Or where it takes me.’ The man rubbed at his neck and Kyuhai spotted a pale scar under his jaw. It was circular, almost like another ring of Unity. ‘There are things… things I thought I was done with.’

‘Are you having doubts, gue’vesa’ui?’