Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 34

The drift wailed in alarm as its perimeter was violated, racing bike squads tearing through its outer districts. Never in its sordid history had a foe challenged it, for the only forces it had faced had been broken ships and dazed survivors. Set against a genuine enemy the drift proved a singularly poor bulwark, its bastions feeble and its defenders little more than thug enforcers. The pirates knew not how to counter the rampaging Space Marines, who moved so quickly that they passed every defensive cordon before it could be established. In desperation the pirates flooded the area with bodies, sending every man they had to the edges of the drift, little realising this was the response the Amber Vipers had been expecting.

Deeper inside the ramshackle drift an interior airlock door slid open, revealing eleven Transhuman giants within. They were covered in frost, as incoming air froze to their ceramite plates and clung to the edges of their jump packs. Their armour was a mishmash of refit parts and molecular bonding studs and cables, that Imperial scholars euphemistically labelled 'Mark V' and their snarling respirators gave them a fearsome appearance. The squad was armed with an ad-hoc assembly of weapons: chain-glaives, hook-spears, thresher blades and in one case an energised trident. Yet at their head stood a warrior more daunting in appearance and mien. His armour was notched by kill-tallies and in his hands was a snarling axe-rake and an overlarge bolter. He was Battle-Captain Ferrac and he looked upon his enemy's home with disgust.

Ferrac tensed as the squad made its entrance, the airlock being an obvious choke-point. He would have preferred to cut his own entrance via Thunderhawk but the gunships would instantly have been noticed. Instead his squad, and the rest of Primus Cohort, had infiltrated across the outer surface of the drift, walking over miles of interior corridors unnoticed and unmarked. Now the pirates had no inkling that the centre of their base had been violated, they were open for the killing stroke.

Ferrac turned to the warrior with the crackling trident and commented, "No sign of guards, Sergeant Excelsiam, Secundus Cohort has drawn off the bulk of the Heretic's forces."

Excelsiam muttered, "They better make the most of their achievement, picking up the scraps of our glory is all they are good for."

Ferrac grinned under his helm and affirmed, "Aye, true glory awaits us, speaking of which we need to move. Chapter Master Coluber strikes for what passes for an Enginarium, and the rest of Primus Cohort have their objectives. They will cut out the heart of this monster, our mission to lop off its head. Follow me."

Instantly Ferrac set off, jogging down the open corridors of the drift. This section seemed to be human in origin, some pre-imperial spaceship by his guess. He opened his respirator and grimaced at the scent of metallic fumes and smoking cabling, the lack of blessed incense and sacred unguents jarring unto his ramshackle nature of this den was apparent in the dilapidated state of the walls, the hanging cables and decaying components. It irked him that the pirates had not even provided basic consecration for the Machine Spirits, a shocking lack of respect, but then he wasn't here to repair the place, he was here to destroy it.

Soon they reached a junction in the corridor and Excelsiam called, "Go left."

Ferrac couldn't see any difference and queried, "You're sure?"

Excelsiam snorted, "If you wanted to know the route, then you could have eaten the pirate's brains."

Ferrac chuckled, "No thanks, rank has its privileges. Lead on, Brother."

Excelsiam guided the squad left and Ferrac followed, reflecting on the necessity of their deeds. The Amber Vipers had caught a pirate ship raiding shipping in a nearby system and easily overrun it. They had subsequently learned of this drift and some interest facets of its nature, but had not found any schematics. Lacking intel they had resorted to eating the pirate's brains, taking from them the knowledge needed to identify key objectives. Sadly they could not just extract the plans, the Omophagea wasn't that precise, Excelsiam needed to see the base to match the environment to his stolen memories.

Swiftly the squad progressed, unopposed all the way. Ferrac was pleased by their speed, they were ahead of schedule but he was irked as a patch of heat built over his back. The Amber Viper's armourers worked night and day to tend to their gear but were lacking in resources and facilities. Every suit of armour had been repaired over and over, using substandard parts and tools. The Chapter bargained martial power for resupply, or outright scavenged and stole what they needed, but nothing they could acquire matched the superiority of Astartes pattern gear. No matter how diligent, the serf-artisans could only do so much and standards were slipping. Ferrac's own suit had begun to overheat when exerted, growing painfully hot where inferior power cabling blazed like lines of electric fire. The pain could be intense at times but he remained Astartes, such matters were beneath him.

Suddenly Excelsiam pulled up, with his clenched fist raised. The squad instantly froze as the Sergeant approached a hatch and peered round. An instant later he leaned back and whispered, "We've reached the access corridor to the nerve centre. Standard STC layout, one long line of sight, no cover for an attacker. Sixty guards, all armed."

Ferrac nodded as he said, "Good job we brought jump packs, prepare to engage on my order."

The squad gripped their weapons tightly and Ferrac raised his axe-rake before him as he intoned the litany of strength. His weapon had been taken from the hands of a dead Traitor Marine, evident by the hacked out symbol of a wolf's head, as had his gun, a rare variant of bolt weapon. The catechism completed Ferrac tensed himself, then bounded forward as his jump pack flared. The foot of a god kicked him in the rear and sent him hurtling down the length of the corridor, sailing high as he covered many metres in a heartbeat. Flaming contrails of exhaust kissed his legs and the heat on his back became a claw of searing fire, but he ignored it as he focused on the foe.

At the far end of the corridor a team of guards in carapace armour lurked, weapons held ready but not aimed. The guards were on alert yet had not expected the Space Marines to be so close, and they certainly were not expecting them to be flying. A volley of fire passed under Ferrac's boots as he soared down the corridor, then his leap reached its apex and he fell with his axe-rake snarling. The pirates screamed as a roaring giant fell upon them, his vicious chain weapon cleaving through them. Ferrac lashed out left and right, his vision filling with the spray of blood and bone as the spinning chain-teeth chewed bodies apart. The guards had no idea what had hit them and Ferrac tore them to shreds, then the rest of the squad hit home, obliterating them with savage ruthlessness.

"Pathetic weaklings!" yelled Brother Vardat as he tore out the throat out of a guard.

"These scum are barely worth killing!" hollered Brother Ultua as he disembowelled another.

Ferrac left them to their slaughter as he bounded through the open hatch, emerging into the command centre of the pirate's den. It was typical of human construction, a cruciform shape filled with dreary people labouring over glassic consoles and servitors chattering mindlessly to themselves. Yet it lacked any glorious frescos of the Emperor and triumphant statues, its walls instead bearing splashes of old blood and pockmarked with bullet holes. From the roof hung coffin-sized resin-shards on iron chains, each one entombing the body of a human and from their expressions they had still been alive when the searing hot fluid and been poured over them. Who they were or what they had done to offend the drift's mistress did not bother Ferrac, for he was focussed upon the next wave of enemies.

From out of nowhere came a flashing blur of grey and white, a whirlwind that struck him with bolts of lighting. A smear of light creased his vision and he snarled as a slice of raw pain cut across his forearm. He instinctively lashed out with his axe-rake but he missed his target, the snarling teeth chewing nothing but air. As tried to recover another slice of pain cut his thigh and another his left flank as his ceramite plate was violated. Ferrac desperately grabbed his gun in his other hand but a metallic boot connected with a flying kick that knocked it from his grasp and propelled the kicker into a backwards summersault.

The foe landed in a crouch, as the crew behind her panicked and fled. Ferrac looked upon her and saw a being with entirely augmetic limbs, her legs formed of springs and pistons and her hands replaced with crackling looped-plasma knives. Her torso was covered in a dappled bodyglove, with strange patterns of grey and white, that clung to her form and revealed odd implants in her back. Her face was stretched by surgical pins, pulling her features into a permanent sneer and the back of her skull was pierced by metal dreadlocks. Her appearance fitted her description perfectly: Deorra, the Buccaneer Queen.

As the command centre crew fled in terror Deorra spat, "So, a Space Marine comes at last. I'd heard you were mighty, but I am not impressed."

"Heretic filth!" Ferrac growled, "Coluber, Master of the Amber Vipers, commands your death."

Deorra sneered, "A strong leader would have come himself, not sent a lackey. I will slit this lord's throat, as soon as I am done with you."

Ferrac howled in outrage and threw himself at her. His axe-rake descended like a thunderbolt but Deorra was already moving. Piston rods in her legs threw her aside and the blow sailed past, even as she lashed out with her knife-hands. Ferrac felt a blow score over his chest and tried to smash her down with his elbow but she avoided being hit and launched an uppercut that nearly stabbed up through his jaw. Again and again he swung for her but she avoided each blow, moving with enhanced speed and strength. Ferrac still had size and weight over her, one solid blow would end her, but the Buccaneer Queen had been augmented in strange ways and Ferrac could not predict her moves so she dodged every blow.

Her dreadlocks whipped around her head as she bounded back and forth, always managing to be where the Axe-rake was not. Her blades flicked and darted, tearing at Ferrac's plate and making a mess of his proud heraldry. The Battle-captain chased her back and forth across the command centre, smashing consoles in his fury but he could not make contact. Her style was unfamiliar to him, not human, not Xenos and he could not find the flaw in her defence. It was like fighting mist in a forest as branches lashed him with every step. His frustration fed his anger and he became an enraged brute, wild swings dicing the air with wide sweeps.

Deorra danced back from a horizontal blow as she taunted, "So much for the vaunted Astartes, you fight like Ambull's clashing over a mate!"

Ferrac responded by swinging wildly and snarling, "Raaagh!"

Deorra laughed scornfully, "If this lord of your fights as feebly as you do then I shall surely claim his head!"

Ferrac's anger boiled over at the taunt and he swung hard, desperate to make contact, but he overextended. His axe-rake slammed into a console, showering sparks high and spilling cabling to the floor as the chain-teeth bit deeply. Instantly a flashing blade swept towards his arm and he was forced to let go of his weapon, lest he lose a hand. He stumbled back, unarmed and reeling as Deorra closed in for the kill. She bounded forwards, knives blurring as she struck upwards for his hearts. Ferrac saw the blow coming and reacted the only way a Space Marine knew how, he stepped in and took the blow to his belly. The knives cut him terribly and searing fire filled his gut, but crucially the deathblow missed his hearts.

Deorra froze in shock, only for a half-second, but it was enough for Ferrac. His left hand shot out and grabbed a handful of metallic dreadlocks, clenching tightly at the implants burrowed into her skull. Deorra screamed for the first time and tried to wriggle free but his grip was unyielding as granite. Ferrac held her still, then he heaved to the right, driving her head into a console. The glassic panel shattered, slicing her face to ribbons as she wept blood and teeth freely. Ferrac's anger wasn't sated and he slammed her face into the jagged mess again and again till she slumped in a dazed stupor.

Instantly Ferrac twisted, getting behind her as his other hand grabbed something. It was a loose cable and he wrapped it around her throat, forming a garrotte. His left hand came free of her dreadlocks and grabbed the cable, then he drew on all his strength to heave outwards. Deorra panicked as a hangman's noose closed upon her windpipe, cutting off her air. She scrambled at her throat but her bladed hands found no purchase, merely cutting her own skin. She kicked impotently and fought to break free but Ferrac pulled for all he was worth. He felt his hatred and his anger burning his hearts, even as his plate scorched his back and he pulled so hard he lifted her off the floor as he snarled, "Grrrragh!"

Deorra's kicks grew feeble and impotent as she went purple, then grey as her struggles ceased and she asphyxiated to death. Yet Ferrac did not let her drop, he held on for long seconds, making sure she was truly dead before he finally released her. He sagged, gasping for air as the Buccaneer Queen fell in a heap at his feet and he kicked the corpse in scorn as he spat, "Nobody threatens the master of the Amber Vipers while I draw breath: nobody."

A scuffle behind him broke his reverie and he span about expecting another fight but it was only Sergeant Excelsiam. The warrior jogged into the control centre, trident covered in blood and pulled up short. He looked about then saw Deorra's corpse and exclaimed, "She's dead already?!"

Ferrac hissed, "Filthy Heretic deserved worse."

"Ah," Excelsiam remarked as he cocked his helm to one side, "Made you feel the kill, did she?"

Ferrac ignored the comment as he turned and ripped his axe-rake from the console where it was buried. Then he growled, "Get the others and take this place apart. No survivors."