>Long ago, brutal experience had taught the Empire the medieval sensibilities of the rotting Imperium. Humanity was a people who flagellated themselves before their corpse-god, whose cathedral servitors chanted as their flesh rotted in oiled metal frames, whose warriors craved war for nothing more than to prove their own maddening faith. When the t’au had first dispatched merchants, explorers, and dignitaries to humanity’s frontier worlds beyond the Damocles Gulf, the rulers of those planets had whispered of their fears of retribution from the terrible power that governed them: the hunch-backed Lords of Terra, villainous servants to the God- Emperor of Mankind, a ghoul enthroned on that distant tomb of progress. Soon after, the Imperium’s vengeful Crusade of Damocles had thundered into t’au space, bringing more forces to bear than the Empire had ever encountered in its history. As war’s fire smouldered on Dal’yth, the beating heart of the Empire’s commerce, the Ethereal Council of T’au had swiftly learned to be more conscientious in its prodding of diseased giants.
There are good guys in the 41st millennium, but they are not human.