Shas'O Dren'vas cast his gaze around the interior of the devilfish. The faces of his squad were impassive. Their scarred faces set resolutely. Dren was proud of his squad. Veterans all they were shas'uis and shas'vre who were past their prime in years. Forsaking the large battlesuits this group of grisly old timers preffered the down and dirty foot slogging of their past.

O'Vas had officially retired three years ago after serving in numerous campaigns. He had been assigned to the counsil on T'au for a short while but had been extremely restless. Stepping out of the council Dren had offered to lead a colony expedition. He had been turned down but had come along anyway.

It had been only two days ago that he had been given command of this small squad. He brought the images of that fight back to the surface of his mind with a strange level of delight.

The first Imperial attack had been brutal. He remembered the bombardments and drop pods raining from the sky like giant hail on a stormy eve. Grabbing his old pulse rifle the retired officer had rushed out to join the defences. Yet everywhere he went he was turned down. None of the acting shas'Os and els wanted a retired officer around. They thought him a burdon. Still he was determined to serve the greater good yet.

Finally he had come to a section of the line under heavy attack. As he watched the Shas'O of the cadre was shot down, his battlesuite broken and shattered. Amazingly though the Shas'O had pulled himself from the wreckage and torn a pulse carbine from the side of his wrecked suite. Taking up the weopon the commander had simply gone back rallying his men and sending volleys of precice fire into the crazy marines.

Inspired by the sheer determination of the Shas'O, O'Vas had rushed to join the fight. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the other officer, Dren relished in the battle as his rifle roared with anger.

It was not long before the first marines hit the line. To Drens horror a giant marine weilding a glowing axe had descended right infront of him, cleaving his rifle in two. He was thrown backward as the marine slammed into the ground. A slice of silver passed over Drens head followed by a gout of red liquid. The marine fell away his throut spilling the thick blood in a large pool on the ground.

There stood the relentless Shas'O, bonding knife in hand.

"Here brother." The officer said handing Dren his carbine. Then the stranger wrenched another gun from the other side of his ruined battlesuite. With a nod the two shas'O turned and poured fire into the marines.

Attack halted like waves on the shore the marines finally got some sence and ran for it. Standing amid a sea of death the two commanders rallied the survivors to them.

"My name is Ximoro'An." The stranger said clapping hands with Dren.

"Dren'Vas." He replied. "I am glad you let me fight with you, I was turned away everywhere else."

O'An bowed his head to the veteran Shas'O. "I would never turn away one as wise as you."

"I would not force you to accept my weakening self." Dren said lowering his head.

"Do not frown good sir. You need not be the strongest, for your experience has tought you other ways. I have the perfect place for you." O'An had said with a smile.

He had been right. Now sitting in the transport among this group of warriors Dren was in his place. He had found his niche again.

The indicator lights blinked to red.

"Prepare for Deployment." Came the voice over the comms.

The squad rose as one, silver armor shinning brightly and weopons held at the ready.

"KOVASH TAUVA!!!" The Veterans roared as the hatches of the transport hissed open. Leaping out into the frenzied battle Dren'Vas was in his place.