Tales of the Amber Viper Chapter 5

Wind tore at Arbet's face, making his eyes water as they sped along. It was a bitter wind, one that passed through his coat to knife into his bones as if he had no protection. There was a damp scent in the air, the wet clamminess of bracken, which seemed to grow everywhere. It was always cold and windy on the moors, the breeze blowing across vast tracts of land without distraction or obstacle.

Ahead stretched rolling hills, rising and falling at random until in the distance they climbed into mountains that were capped with snow. Arbet was heading towards those mountains but even at these speeds it was a long way to go. Arbet glanced down, seeing the strange machine below him. He was currently sticking his torso out of the roof of a skimmer transport, one of the Devilfish. It had been gifted to them by the Tau envoy and seemed very odd to his eyes. The transport was all smooth lines and flowing curves, without a decent right angle anywhere to be seen. It was driven forward by two engines on swivel mounts at the rear and its prow was a flat hammer shape from which hung a burst cannon and two disc-like devices that were weighed down by guns. The Devilfish moved with a speed and surety he had never known before, floating over the rough terrain without so much as a jolt. It was unnerving to experience and oddly Arbet found himself missing the honest rough sensations of a Chimera transport.

Floating behind his Devilfish were three identical machines, carrying the squads of his platoon. Meanwhile the flanks were being guarded by a trio of smaller, two-man skimmers, which were faster and more manoeuvrable. Piranhas they were called, though he didn't know what kind of beast that was supposed to be. Far above aircraft trailed contrails across the sky, promising devastation from above at his mere call. It was more firepower than he had ever commanded in his life, but he wasn't sure it was going to be enough.

Arbet decided he'd seen enough and dropped back down into the Devilfish, pulling the hatch closed behind him. Inside it was just as strange, the roof was a little too low, the doors a little bit too small and the flowing protuberances that passed for seats had no grip, forcing the men to constantly push their bums back or slide off. The driver was in his own compartment, separating the troops completely. It was obvious that this had not been designed for humans, but it was warm and smooth and the troopers were used to worse.

Arbet saw his squad lined up in two ranks of five, chattering among themselves. These souls had fought beside him for years and he knew them as well as he knew his own family. They had bled and wept and griped together through the best and worst of times and that forged a bond that was hard to break. Arbet ducked down, and stepped closer, hearing Trooper Ganneth complaining, "Why Brown? Why does everything we own have to be sodding brown?"

Sergeant Egar retorted, "Cause the cheapest dye available is brown, that's why."

"The top brass are all cheapskates," Trooper Jonas spat, "Why couldn't the Colonel have given us these guns years ago?"

He hefted his new pulse rifle, the long smooth barrel looking cumbersome in his grip. Arbet knew what he meant, the rifle was odd and didn't sit in the hand well but the ferocious punch it boasted put lasrifles to shame. Arbet dumped his rear on a seat and explained, "The People's Liberation Army doesn't have unlimited resources, we have to save these guns for the big fights."

Ganneth examined the top of the barrel and muttered, "Where are you supposed to fit the bayonet? I can't fight without a bayonet."

Jonas scoffed, "There's nobody to fight, some drivers got lost and everybody's running scared. C'mon Lieutenant admit it, this mission is a waste of time. We're chasing ghosts."

"This mission is vitally important," Arbet reprimanded him then grinned in jest and said, "Besides everybody knows you dodge actual work whenever you can."

That drew a chuckle from most of the squad but one soul was quiet, staring morosely at the floor. Arbet frowned and said, "Trooper Harvee, something wrong?"

"Leave him be," Egar said softly, "He just got a 'Dear Jarad' letter."

"Bescumber," Arbet swore, "That's a rank thing to do to a man."

"Three years," Harvee growled, "Three years I spend fighting through hell so we could live free and that bitch runs off with the butcher down the road."

"Ah, you've not lost anything Harvee," Ganneth announced loudly, "I've seen her, she looks like she fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down!"

Laughs arose at the ribald humour and Jonas added, "If you're lonely I've got a Mastiff back home, you probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference in the dark!"

More laughs arose and Harvee's scowl lessened at the teasing, the trooper's rough humour letting him know they were with him and understood his pain. Each of them had sacrificed something to be here, each of them had a tale of woe behind them. Ganneth had been a farmer once, until Governor Nugga's cronies had seized his land without explanation or recompense. Jonas' sister had been raped by the local constables and when he dared to demand justice the judge had ordered him beaten to a pulp and thrown out the door. Egar's twin boys had been caught up in a protest march, one that Nugga had sent the PDF to put down. They had merely been caught in the crowd, but that made no difference when the lasrifles cut men down by the hundred. Egar would never see his sons again and his wife had drunk herself into an early grave out sorrow. Arbet himself had been a PDF trooper at that massacre and in the dark hours of the night he couldn't help but wonder if one of the men he'd been ordered to shoot in the back had been Egar's sons.

The cruelty and greed of the Governor had been too much to bear. The blatant theft disguised as 'taxes', his contempt for justice and the hunger of the masses as Nugga lived in obscene luxury had driven the people to revolt.

Arbet shook off the thought and said, "Alright that's enough, be sharp. The Imperials are out there somewhere."

Jonas gripped his pulse rifle hard and muttered, "Sodding Imperials, I'd like to knife the lot of them. They're all the same."

Arbet fixed him with a glare and said, "Save it for the real enemy, the Governor and his cronies. The Imperials are just in the way."

Jonas looked up in surprise and said, "You don't hate them?"

Arbet shrugged, "I hate Nugga but the Imperium is too abstract to hate. I'm sure the Imperials do some good out there, somewhere among the stars, which would be fine if they'd just stay there and mind their own business. It's here on Maraha that they cause problems; propping up Nugga and refusing to see that he is the root of the problem. If they'd only done something about his corruption then this war wouldn't be happening, but since they won't, we'll have to do it ourselves."

Egar shoved some Tabbac into his mouth then muttered, "What about the Tau? Will they be any better than the Imperials?"

"Couldn't possibly be worse," Ganneth retorted, "At least they give us decent gear."

Arbet nodded but then there was a sense of deceleration as the Devilfish coasted to a halt. Arbet pulled out a pulse pistol and cried, "Out, out, out!"

As one the squad scrambled for the doors, it was awkward getting so many men through the small doors but after a moment of shoving they all emerged into the wan daylight. Arbet looked around and saw they had arrived at their goal, the scene of one of the raids. It was a burned out listening post, surrounded by broken bodies that were rotting slowly. The platoon were spilling out of the other Devilfish, sighting down pulse rifles as they swept for enemies. Around the perimeter the Piranha's circled, burst cannons twitching as they sought threats. Arbet drew himself up and clenched his nostrils shut; the smell of dead bodies was never pleasant no matter how many times he breathed it.

The lieutenant called out, "Secure this area and police these bodies."

The platoon obeyed, surrounding the outposts and checking for lingering traps. Egar shouted at a few troopers out of habit then knelt and called out, "Lieutenant, these bodies have been blown apart, that's bolters at work but come and see this."

Arbet looked and saw distinct tracks standing clear of the dirt, he was no expert but he saw a single line of treads and remarked, "Looks like a bike track, but that's bigger than any I've ever seen."

"We are looking for Astartes," Egar commented, "I'd expect them to be big."

"Any idea how many of them there were?" Arbet asked gripping his pulse pistol tightly at the thought of facing the Emperor's Finest.

Egar rubbed his jaw as he looked about saying, "My gut says not many."

"I agree," Arbet uttered, "It wouldn't take many of them to do this. They took this place by surprise, killed everybody then withdrew."

Egar ruminated, "The outpost went quiet twelve hours ago, so they can't have got too far away."

As they were talking the troopers emerged from the outpost and Jonas called, "This place is wrecked and they didn't stick around to gloat over their handiwork."

Arbet accepted this and strode back to the Devilfish, he rooted around in the troop bay then pulled out a plastek map. It represented hundreds of kilometres of moors, the roads and outposts and the rare town or village, laid out in a variety of colours, brown for the rebel's, red for the Imperials. He set this upon the ground and pinned it down with hard rocks to examine it in detail. Egar wandered over and said, "Sir, what are you thinking?"

Arbet waved his hand over the map and said, "They've been hitting outposts and convoys all over the place, there's no discernible pattern to it."

Egar chewed loudly then muttered, "That's a lot of ground to cover, there could be hundreds of units in the field."

Arbet shook his head saying, "Or a few squads moving really fast, don't forget these are Astartes, expect them to be better and quicker than we are."

"You think they are trying to disguise their numbers?" Egar wondered.

"Small units, moving extremely fast," Arbet pondered, "Hitting random targets over a wide area, creating the impression of a larger force. With only a handful of units they could sow confusion and tie up vast numbers of our side looking for an enemy that isn't there."

"Makes our job harder," Egar grumbled, "We could spend months scouring the region looking for a speck of ash in a bonfire while they could slip past us with ease."

Arbet concurred, "We don't have time for that, the Big Push is coming and we need to be certain nothing interferes. Dunham city will be ours soon, then it's a straight run to the Capital, but if our forces are scattered about hunting strays the Imperials will have time to regroup and dig in."

Egar eyed him and said, "What are you thinking?"

Arbet stared at the map as an idea began to germinate and he thought out loud, "They want us to waste time chasing them around in circles. So we shouldn't play their game… instead we should make them come to us."

Egar looked curious as he probed, "How?"

Arbet pointed at a red dot on the map and explained, "They can't have gone too far so we force their hand and lure them into a fixed battle."

Egar looked at the map and sounded confused as he said, "By hitting a tiny village?"

"It's one of the few that still fly the Imperial flag but there's no Guard garrison, only militia," Arbet explained, "Half our platoon could take it with ease and that would be enough to draw out the Astartes. You know the legends, the Space Marines are Terra's heroes, they will be honour-bound to come to its defence. Then we bring up our reserve and catch them in a vice."

Egar nodded, "Could work, if they react as you expect."

Arbet brushed off the critique and said, "Get everybody back on the Devilfish; we have a trap to bait."