Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 10

Smoke and flames billowed before him, filling the air with choking black clouds. It waxed strong but Reddam was undaunted, driving his bike right through the sooty miasma. He felt heat scorching his arms through the torn fabric of his sleeves and his throat grew raspy as the thick muck coated the back of his mouth. For a single second all was darkness as the sun disappeared but then he burst out of the cloud and roared into the daylight.

Before him rose the blocky column of the control tower, its top a glassic oval protruding over the sides of the walls. This was the last bastion of the rebels and would surely be the best-defended location. Reddam knew a fight up its length would be hard but it was essential and had to be fast. Doubtless those within would already be voxing for aid.

Reddam screeched up to the base of the tower and saw his squad assembling, pulling their bikes to a halt before a wide set door. Reddam saw their eager faces, flushed with the rush of the fight, well except for Kazao whose face was hidden behind his helmet. Reddam wasted not a moment but leapt from his saddle crying, "Joffel, Tebes, Kazao with me. Larus and Glord, guard our rear and protect the bikes, don't let anyone follow behind us."

The attack bike, took up a guarding position around the perimeter while the others dismounted, Kazao pausing to draw forth a small, Kreig pattern, single-shot Grenade Launcher and a bandolier of rounds. Reddam led them to the tower's door but paused beside it. He saw the entrance was narrow and confined; the perfect place for an ambush. The Sergeant waved Kazao up and the warrior reached to his belt to take out a smoke grenade. It was the work of a moment to open the breach and slot in the fat round, then he snapped it shut with a click. A mortal Guardsmen would have to rest such a weapon against his shoulder but Kazao's enhanced strength let him wield it one-handed. He crept up to the door jamb and then leaned out and fired a round with a flat sound of 'phoot'.

He was only exposed for a heartbeat but a flurry of lasrifle fire peppered the doorway, one bolt blasting a scorch mark over his shoulder carapace. Yet Kazao's shot sailed through the doorway, detonating in a cloud of acrid smoke. "Charge!" Reddam yelled as he dived through the doorway. Instantly visibility fell to nothing, even his eyes unable to penetrate the darkness without the aid of autosenses. Yet Astartes were trained to use all their senses, fighting blind if necessary and the coughing of choking men was more than enough to tell him where his enemies were.

Reddam felt his multi-lung expanding as it filtered out the gas in the air and he swung his spear left and right, feeling satisfying impacts as he struck down rebels. Behind him came his younger Brothers, enthusiastically following his example. They moved through the ground floor, slitting throats and clubbing men to death with merciless efficiency. Within a minute the gas cleared, revealing a concourse filled with overturned desks and piles of dead bodies.

"That was easy!" Kazao exhorted.

"Don't get cocky," Reddam snarled, "This was only the ground level."

Reddam led the way across the floor, headed towards a small security post at the back. He ignored the mechanical elevators and kicked in a door, revealing a flight of stairs behind. To be trapped in a confined box would have been suicidal so taking the stairs was the wiser course, unfortunately the enemy thought the same thing and before he could take a step a scrum of men piled out.

The rebels seemed utterly shocked by the sight awaiting them and Reddam reflexively thrust his spear into the heart of the first man he saw. Yet the rest poured out the door and fell upon him, literally bowling him over in a scrum of bodies. Reddam roared in anger and heaved his weight about but the sheer numbers pinned him down, trapping his limbs and suffocating him. Reddam felt hands clawing at his face and tried to bite back but he was immobilised, in moments a knife would pierce something vital and end his story once and for all. For a moment he thought death had found him at last but then he heard a harsh cry of outrage and felt bodies being physically torn off him. He thrashed his shoulders and managed to clear some space and saw his younger Brothers battering at the scrum of men.

Joffel was dancing back and forth trading blows with a man who fought back with a lasrife's bayonet. The Amber Viper wheeled his sword in the air, describing wide circles, it was showy but served as a distraction. The man fell for his feint and tried to lunge with his rifle but Joffel side-stepped and slashed the curved edge in a lightning strike. The rebel snarled in pain as his arm was torn open but he tried to recover and stab back in return. Joffel parried then went low and slashed his blade across a thigh. The rebel stumbled as his leg went out from under him and in that moment Joffel reversed his strike. The bone edge caught the man in the belly and ripped upwards, opening him from naval to neck. Stinking guts spilled out as the rebel collapsed in a horrifying pile of gore and died.

Meanwhile Tebes was facing off against a pair of men with his pneumatic hammer. The mining tool was point heavy, causing him to swing it in wide loops around his body, but the momentum was irresistible. The first rebel was caught alongside the jaw by the flat head and fell down, spitting shattered teeth to the ground. The other tried to take advantage of the opening and scored his bayonet across Tebes' carapace armour but failed to draw blood. Tebes drew back his hammer and with a snarl of contempt drove it head first into the man's hip, shattering his pelvis. Then he swung it an overhand sweep and brought the pick end down right on the rebels' skull. Brains sprayed everywhere but the Tebes was already drawing back and almost distractedly finished off the first man with a lazy blow.

Kazao was having more much difficulty, his Grenade Launcher useless in such close confines. Yet he reversed his grip and used it as a crude cudgel, breaking bones with short, blunt chops. Reddam felt the weight upon him lifting and was able to throw off the last attackers, rising to his feet and freeing his spear. The Sergeant threw himself into the melee and with his flashing blade in play the rest of the rebels went down in moments.

Joffel was elated and said, "Did you see me kill that man? I was on fire!"

"Fast or slow doesn't matter," Tebes countered, "Death cares not, and I killed twice as many men as you did."

Reddam found their self-congratulations unmerited, a proper squad would have killed fivefold as many enemies in half the time. He would have to drill his charges in melee combat at a later date, but for now they had a mission to complete. He drew in a breath and said, "Enough, we have to reach the top. Follow me."

With that he led them up the tower, taking the steps two at a time. They swiftly emerged onto the control level and found a room with a panoramic view and lines of cogitators, controls and servitors, still chattering away. The crews were absent, and Reddam guessed they had all been killed racing down the stairs, but that did not leave it deserted. Facing the window was a single man, with his hands hidden by a long brown coat. He had gold braiding on the shoulders and a starched cap upon his head. An officer if Reddam ever saw one. The man turned as they entered, revealing a face made old by worry and toil but there was strength there too and more resignation than fear.

Reddam pulled up short, but Joffel leapt past him with a wild yell, sword swinging at the man. "Joffel, wait!" Reddam shouted but the mortal's reactions were swift indeed. From under his coat he flung up an energised sword, a blade so fine that Reddam guessed it to be a family relic. The sword darted out swiftly and surely, making Joffel stumble away, clutching his shoulder where rich blood flowed.

The man stepped forward but Reddam stamped into his path, spear held threateningly as he shouted, "Face me!" The officer paused and Reddam was impressed, this man was old enough to boast experience but not decrepit enough to slow him down. A challenge then, one Reddam would willingly accept.

The man saluted with his blade upright before his eyes and said, "I am Viscount Harles Gorgo, heir to a proud lineage and I won't surrender."

"You are nothing but rebel scum and I wouldn't accept it if you did," Reddam hissed.

The man nodded sagely and said, "For Maraha then."

"Ave Imperator," Redddam declared.

The man adopted an ox stance, blade held high, with the point down. A classic stance of speed and power but Reddam knew he had reach and strength on his side. He feinted forward with the point of his spear but the officer swiped laterally and knocked the weapon away. A lightning thrust came at the Sergeant but he jumped back and fended the blow off, keeping this Gorgo back with his circling point.

Reddam saw the man was skilled and experienced but he had the problem of reach to overcome. It was strange how swords had become ingrained in the human psyche, everybody was obsessed with the gaudy things, yet in Reddam's opinion spears bested swords nine times out of ten. He began to sidestep, circling the point of his spear before the officer's eyes. Gorgo warily took a step to right but then unexpectedly threw himself forward, trying to get within the arc of the shaft. If he did so he would be safe from the point but Reddam ducked as Gorgo's blade spun over his head and struck down with the butt to crack against a shin. A clash of metal revealed hidden greaves under the trousers but the blow had force enough to send Gorgo backwards anyway.

Reddam pursued with a jab to the groin but Gorgo got his sword down in time to block. Yet too late the rebel realised it was a feint, for Reddam's spear suddenly jerked upwards. He thrust one-handed, reaching over the length of the sword to plunge the point into the officer's neck. Gorgo froze, his mouth wide open in disbelief and then he slumped as life fled from him. Reddam drew back his spear and let the body slump, then he bowed his head in respect for a brave man. Unfortunately Joffel didn't share his respect, he spat on the body saying, "Wretched mongrel cut me."

"Stop that," Reddam ordered, "Show some respect."

"Respect?" Joffel started, "For a filthy heretic?"

"His Heresy warranted his execution," Reddam stated firmly "But nevertheless he fought well and found a fine death."

Joffel's eyes glazed over as he lost interest and he said, "That's a nice sword."

But Reddam overrode him, "If you couldn't kill him yourself then you have no claim for Victor's Rights. Now you lot, take this place apart."

Swiftly the others piled in, breaking the cogitators with heavy blows and slitting the throats of servitors. It was but the work of a minute to render the control tower useless and reduce it to ruins. Reddam was pleased to see the objective completed, but then their vox-beads crackled and he heard a voice calling, "Sergeant come in this is Larus, come in."

Alarm rose in Reddam at the unexpected call and he responded, "This is Reddam, what's going on?"

Larus responded, "Enemy reinforcements have arrived, we are under attack. The situation is unstable."

"This is no time for understatement," Glord suddenly roared over the vox, "Sergeant, the accursed grox-dung has hit the Frakking exhaust fan!"

Reddam peered out a window and he saw contrail of heavy bolter rounds mixed with the unmistakable flashes of pulse rifle fire. More foes were surrounding the tower on all sides and he gasped as he realised that their hunters had finally caught up with them. In alarm he roared, "Don't just stand there, the enemy has found us. We need to get down there now!"