Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 4
A las-bolt came out of nowhere, flying down the long road to strike his helm. The bolt impacted his forehead and cut a deep groove over his brow, one inch lower and it would have gone through his eye to blow his brains out. It was either superbly aimed or an incredibly lucky shot, though given the quality of his foes he favoured the latter. There was no kinetic impact as such but the thermal exchange evaporated layers of Ceramite protection with such vigour that it felt like his head was snapped back by a bullet anyway.
The shot was followed by a flurry of blasts, each one impacting the broken brickwork and causing explosions of dust and mortar in the ruins of the burned out hab. He wasn't there to see it however, for he had already relocated, throwing himself behind a pile of smashed rubble. It was galling to seek cover from pathetic las-fire, but there was a line between courage and stupidity and the Amber Vipers had no use for vain bravado. Once in cover he rolled over, his ceramite plate clanking against the ground. Dust clung to his amber plates, staining the vibrant colours and smearing the icon of the goblet and viper upon his pauldron. Yet upon his knee was a small coiled serpent, jade in colour and his marked helm was decorated with golden laurels. In one hand he had a bolt pistol and in the other a curved tulwar blade, a magnificent relic weapon whose quality was quite at odds with the meagre gear most of his Brothers boasted. He was Chapter Master Coluber and he was under fire.
Coluber crouched down behind the rubble and listened to las-bolts impacting the ruins beyond. It was a surprisingly large amount of firepower for one lone Marine to draw, but then he was Astartes, to mortals there was no more feared foe. Coluber's autosenses told him trickles of dust were falling from the burned walls as more rounds impacted but he ignored them, for in his mind he was counting. Battle was a complex formula of movement and firepower, a ballet of artillery, charges, desperate defences and ferocious melees. Coluber knew all too well that this level of firepower was a suppressing barrage, which meant an infantry assault was coming in its wake. Coluber's mental countdown reached zero and then he rose to peek out of cover.
Sure enough two score men were charging down the street of burned out habs, lasguns and bayonets held in white-knuckled grips. The rebel troopers presented a threat but that paled into insignificance compared to the machine rumbling behind them. An armoured chariot that drove along on four separate track units with a rear troop bay and twin autocannons fitted to a turret on its roof: a Taurox APC.
Torrents of las and autocannon fire were spraying liberally down the street but Coluber counted it a blessing there was no pulse rifle fire, the rebel scum had not expected to be confronted by an Astartes. He sensed the covering fire slacken as the men charged but he did not respond, not yet, he gripped his bolt pistol tightly and held his nerve. The men ran on, roars of adrenaline-fuelled anger upon their lips, then they crossed an invisible line and Coluber roared, "Brothers, now!"
Instantly shapes moved in the surrounding buildings, bulky forms looming in shattered windows and smashed doorways. Their shape and colours were unmistakeable, Amber Vipers, ten of them in power armour. The Astartes warriors moved with astonishing speed, bringing up bolters to bracket the charging rebels and then they let fly. The street filled with the thunder of mass-reactive rounds as eight Amber Vipers blasted the rebel scum apart. Bodies exploded as detonating rounds tore men apart and showers of blood rose high. Simultaneously another Brother let fly from a rooftop with a Missile launcher, striking the Taurox in its weaker flank and blowing one of the drive units off to leave it immobilised.
In a heartbeat half the rebels had been obliterated but the rest were so stoked with adrenaline that they charged on regardless. They bore down on Coluber's position with the mad courage oft found in the frenzy of battle but one Amber Viper had yet to express his wrath. From a doorway stepped an Astartes bearing a bulky flamer. He brought the weapon up, the pilot light glowing evilly, then with a pull of a trigger he ejected a stream of blazing promethium. The street instantly filled with searing flames, bathing the rebels in a deadly inferno. Men screamed as their clothes and hair were set alight, left to flail and tear at their flesh as they roasted to death.
The rebel charge had been decimated but they were not finished. The Taurox's autocannons sprayed wildly, lashing the walls with shell impacts. One shell hurtled into the doorway where the flamer bearer was covering and there was a spray of blood as he was struck, power armour was resilient but far from invulnerable. The Amber Vipers had been bloodied but were quick to respond, a second missile flew down upon the transport and this time the warhead penetrated, creating an explosion that turned the Taurox into a ball of flames and dirty smoke.
Coluber dared to think for a heartbeat that the rebels were defeated but then three troopers emerged from the smoke-filled inferno. Somehow they had avoided the worst of the firestorm and they ran at the Amber Viper their eyes filled with the mad horrors of war. Coluber saw them coming and stepped out to meet them, Venom in hand. They closed with frantic cries of terrified rage and their bayonets flashing but to Coluber's enhanced eyes they seemed to be moving in slow motion. The first man ran into a low slash of Venom that opened up his guts and made him collapse in a blubbering heap, trying to keep entrails from spilling out. The second was decapitated by a rising stroke that killed him before he even registered the sword coming. The last man was a step behind and threw himself at the towering Astartes but all he managed to achieve was to run himself through on Venom's point, leaving him frozen in shock at the length of metal sticking out of his chest.
Coluber grimaced at the last death, pointwork was awkward and inelegant with a curved blade, but he supposed what won the fight was what won the fight. He shook the body off and left the first rebel to try to stuff his guts back in. It was an agonisingly slow passing but Heretics didn't deserve clean deaths and it pleased Coluber to know the mortal was paying for his sins.
Coluber saw Amber Vipers emerging to clear the street and check for survivors. He was satisfied that they would find none, the ambush had worked and it would be minutes until more rebels arrived. Coluber reached up and removed his helm, snarling at the las-mark upon it. He tried to buff it out with his thumb but the groove was deep, this would require time in the workshop. Without his helm his features were grizzled and worn, a weariness in his eyes speaking of his onerous duties, but his jaw was firm and he revealed no hint of weakness.
Coluber called out, "Sergeant Torvus, report status."
The Sergeant called back, "Area secure but Brother Selat was killed by that autocannon."
Coluber's lip curled but his voice gave no hint of frustration or sorrow as he ordered, "Reassign his flamer and summon an Apothecary. I will coordinate our next move."
Torvus nodded in acknowledgement as Coluber counted the cost. A lost Brother was no small matter to the Amber Vipers; their scant numbers being too few already. The warriors present were all Primus Cohort, the only line Brothers granted power armour. Primus was the best the Chapter had to offer, but they numbered barely half a conventional battle company.
Coluber opened his vox uttering, "Battle-Captain Ferrac this is Coluber. Sector two is secured, report your status."
The vox crackled and then the voice of Ferrac, the Chapter's second in command, spoke "Heavy fighting in sectors three and four. The rebel scum's numbers grow, they seek to drown us in bodies. Request permission to launch a counter-attack."
"Denied," Coluber countered, "Pull all squads back to sector six and lead the Heretics into the heart of Dunham city."
Ferrac's voice had a note of anger as he argued, "A strafing pass by both our Thunderhawks could shatter the rebel's lines and leave them exposed for a killing thrust!"
Coluber was not angry with Ferrac's boldness, the Captain was only saying what Coluber himself was thinking, but the Chapter Master was stern as he commanded, "Negative, we don't have the numbers for that. The rebel scum will just keep sending wave after wave until they grind us down to nothing. I know you crave a glorious victory but remember our strategy; this is not the final battle. Our current objective is to slow the enemy down, bloody their noses and make them wary of advancing too fast. Preserve the lives of your warriors; we have already had one death here."
"Understood" Ferrac responded solemnly, "Ave Imperator."
The link died and Coluber shook his head. Ferrac was a noble soul but he craved honour and glory, he wanted the Amber Vipers to be ferocious zealots who scorned the odds and claimed victory at any cost. Coluber couldn't indulge such narrow-minded thinking, it was his duty to ensure the Chapter survived and grew.
He saw Torvus approaching, a young and eager soul, the finest warrior of the first-generation recruits and leader of the Chapter Master's favoured squad. They were the closest the Amber Vipers had to an Honour Guard and were not shy about letting others behold their vaunted status. The Sergeant called, "Apothecary Shrios has arrived."
Coluber saw the shining white armour of Apothecary Shrios closing, trailed by three servitors. Shrios was like him and Ferrac, a member of the 'Old Seventeen', those souls who had followed Coluber through hell and seen the Chapter's rebirth. Now he and his nascent order of apprentices were the Amber Vipers' shining hope, their means of rising to full strength. Not that Shrios' blunt manner and hard-nosed pragmatism lent itself to being a beacon of hope.
Shrios paused over the body of Selat, stooping to harvest his gene-seed. By such acts were the ranks of the Amber Vipers swelled and each and every Progenoid was precious beyond measure. Coluber waited until the Apothecary was finished then gathered the squad for the Rite of the Dead. Coluber drew in a breath and declared, "Brother Selat, you died as you lived: with a cold heart and a fast blade. You gave your life ensuring that our flame endured; now your death too shall stoke the fire, one last time."
With the ritual words spoken the squad knelt one by one and each took a token from the body of Selat. A tarnished medal, a loaded bolt pistol, a spent bolt round on a chain or a grenade, some took practical items, some personal effects but everybody took something. Coluber went last, taking a full clip for his bolt pistol. This was the Rite of the Dead, a custom from the Time of Exodus and by such traditions were the fallen honoured and the Brothers could share their grief.
The Rite completed the Servitors hoisted Selat up and carried him away, his power armour could not be left behind, it would be refurbished and presented to another warrior in time. As the squad dispersed Coluber turned to Shrios and said, "I wasn't expecting any deaths at this early stage."
Shrios lent his armoured head to one side and said bluntly, "War is war, deaths happen."
Coluber knew he was right but sighed, "What wouldn't I give for a proper Company at my back; I would rip the heart out of this rebellion in a day."
Shrios' voice was a verbal shrug as he said, "We have what we have and we do what we can. Blood-soaked charges to death and glory are very romantic but one misstep would end us forever. Your strategy is sound and plays to our strengths; cunning wins more wars than bravado.
"One day," Coluber declared, "One day will be a proper Chapter and fight with pride and glory, I swear it will be so, but until then I will do what I must."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Shrios muttered.
Coluber shook off his melancholy and jammed his helm back on, then proclaimed, "We've wasted too much time here. Torvus, form up your squad. We head for sector six, follow me Amber Vipers. War awaits!"