Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 45

His opponent was good, a bold warrior with the scars to prove it. He came in fast, swinging a sickle in each hand and going for hearts. Reddam was forced to back-step, blocking with his spear's haft to prevent his chest being torn open. His foe saw the move coming and swung wide with the razor-sharp blades, lashing outwards to tear across the Sergeant's shoulder and flank, leaving bloody lines in his flesh. The wounds were painful but not fatal so Reddam surged forward, swinging downwards to try to catch his rival with the spearpoint. Now it was his foe's turn to fall back, retreating pace by pace as he held his weapons up before his face, his short robe baked in sweat.

All around them the crowd cheered at the display, Amber Vipers from various squads punching the air and letting out cries of encouragement or taunts. Primus Initiates, Secundus warriors and Snakelet-Scouts from Tertius, rank and age mattered not, anybody could come to witness the bout. They were all gathered in a training arena and formed a wide circle around a raised podium, upon which Reddam was duelling. His foe was Sergeant Treno, a fearsome warrior of Primus cohort. He was among the best of the Chapter, a respected first-generation Amber Viper who thought to prove his worth by challenging a veteran, but Reddam wasn't about to concede defeat, he was of the Old Seventeen and he had been fighting wars since before this pup was born.

Reddam carefully stepped right, wary of the edge of the podium lest he fall and disqualified himself. Treno rotated to follow him, then suddenly burst forward, swinging his sickles in his hands. Reddam dove sideways and felt a sharp cut across his side as he evaded. He rallied and came back with a thrust from his de-energised spear, slicing across Treno's shoulder in a spray of blood. Treno spun off his heel to avoid the worst and dashed nearer, going for Reddam's knee. Reddam jerked his leg out of the way and bashed downwards but his foe was within the arc of his spear and his blow merely knocked Treno away.

The crowd roared approvingly at the exchange and Reddam's squad was in there somewhere, but the Sergeant focused solely upon Treno, who taunted, "Old and slow, face it I am going to beat you."

Reddam circled his spear point as he snarled, "Only when you grow up enough to wean off your mother's milk."

Treno lunged forward, darting under the speartip to slash in. It was a bold move and brought him within the arc of the spear, but he had made the mistake of thinking that close range was his advantage. As Treno came in close Reddam slammed his spear's butt into a leg, knocking him aside then dropped his weapon with a clatter. Treno was reeling and had not expected the risky move and before he knew what was happening Reddam was behind him, kicking him in the back of the knee to force him down. A muscled arm snaked around his neck and caught him in the crook, then Reddam grasped his right wrist with his hand and pulled hard.

Treno lurched upwards as his neck was caught in a vice, slamming his throat closed and cutting off his air. He flailed and kicked but could not break the older Marine's hold, so resorted to lashing upwards with his sickles. Reddam snarled as the tips scored over his biceps and shoulders, leaving bloody trails in his flesh. The pain was sharp and raw but Reddam only redoubled his grip, pulling for all he was worth. He heard his hearts pounding in his ears and his vision narrowed to a pinprick but he still felt his pinned foe struggling to breathe. Treno was trying to inflate his multi-lung but the boy had left it too late, he was starved of air and going into oxygen deprivation. His flailing grew weaker and weaker and his blows began to miss as his face went purple. Even Space Marine brains could not function without oxygen and after nearly a minute of suffocation Treno slumped into unconsciousness, falling limp in Reddam's grasp.

Reddam held on until he was certain that Treno wasn't faking, then let go, dropping the other Sergeant to the hard floor. Only then did the cheering of the crowd penetrate his mind. Brothers were yelling their approval and calling his name, some louder than others it must be noted. Hands reluctantly pressed bolt clips and devotional tokens into waiting palms, the losers of their wagers less than pleased to have lost face. Reddam ignored them all as he collected his spear and stepped aside for Treno's squadmates, who came to collect their stirring sergeant and tell him the bad news.

The crowd cheers faded as the Sergeant shouldered his spear and then turned and dropped off the podium. As another two warriors mounted the stand the crowd began calling out for their new champions and making fresh wagers. Meanwhile Reddam approached his squad who were standing among the packed bodies. Joffel, Kazao, Glord, Tebes and Larus, all greeting him with eager smiles, an assumption in Kazao's case as his face was hidden by his helmet.

Glord was the first to speak, "That's the way to do it Sergeant, you showed him!"

Tebes concurred, "Primus Cohort has learned to respect Secundus this day."

Joffel smirked as he said, "I won three bolt-clips off Brother Juithor, he should have known better than to bet against you."

Reddam scowled, he did not approve of the betting, but then this whole display was yet another example of the Viper's straying from the Codex Astartes. Training duels were supposed to be solemn and dignified events but the young recruits had made it a spectacle. The only saving grace was it had proven an effective way to bind the Chapter together. A strict Coda of rules had been hashed out, chief among them that any Brother could challenge another regardless of rank but only once, no warrior could be expected to duel repeatedly. The Amber Vipers Chapter was evolving its own martial culture, one red in tooth and claw, yet with a certain honour to it.

Larus interjected, "I am expecting a bout with Brother Xamia, any tips?"

Reddam started then and said, "What happened to your face?"

Larus was indeed caked in filthy black marks, ground into his pores. He wiped a grimy hand over his face and said, "Oh this? This is Shrios' work. That poisonous mould he brought from the drift proved more dangerous than he thought. The stuff multiplies like crazy and ate through the laboratorium seals. We had to seal the area and burn it off the walls with flamers. It's everywhere down there."

Glord laughed, "That's where you've been all day, scrubbing mould off walls?"

Everybody chuckled at that, for the journey had indeed been dull. A ship in the warp was effectively cut off and the squad had nothing to do save train and inspect their gear. Their new Navigators had made swift progress but Athelling lay on the outskirts of the galaxy and the voyage was long. Especially with the waning of the Astronomican, the Emperor's guiding light was struggling to break through the Empyreal storms since the opening of the Cicatrix Maledictum and warp travel had slowed as a consequence. The Sergeant drew in a breath and said, "We need to train together, we can't let our standards slip through inaction or…"

Reddam was cut off as a strange sensation washed over him. It felt like he was falling down a well while being squeezed by invisible forces and simultaneously stretched on a rack. For long seconds it persisted then faded, leaving behind a sense of relief, a weight unnoticed until it lifted off the soul. Reddam slipped his spear to a resting position and announced, "Warp Translation: we're back in realspace."

Glord looked about in surprise and said, "That was smooth."

Joffel agreed, "House Chamandley's Navigators are skilled, better than the captives we've been getting by with."

Larus mused, "Do you think the rest of the fleet has arrived in the system already, or we are the first?"

Tebes replied frankly, "There's no way to tell. Ships can't stay in formation in the Warp; we arrive separately and regroup in realspace. There's no guarantee we'll even arrive within a month of each other… or a century."

Reddam concurred, "There's no point speculating about it until we have hard facts, we should return to our barracks and…"

Suddenly a tinny noise broke out over the arena's speakers and all heads turned to listen as a voice blared, "All squads report to assigned launch bays immediately, repeat, all squads to assigned launch bays."

Joffel frowned in confusion as he spluttered, "But we only just translated. We must be on the edge of the system, weeks away from the habitable zone. We can't possibly be close enough to deploy."

Reddam however was already turning away as he barked, "Stop wasting time, we have orders. Let's go!"

The various squads piled out of the arena and sprinted towards their disparate launch bays. Reddam set a punishing pace for they were far from their destination. The Wyvern was eight kilometres long and they were half-way across the ship from their destination. Like all Imperial ships the vessel contained transit capsules to speed crew and cargo on their way, but on this ship they only ran from bow to stern and none went where he wanted to be. So the squad ran, maintaining a pace that a mortal athlete would have called sprinting but sustaining it for long minutes, their genhanced physiology letting them continue for as long as needed. They passed mortal crew about their duties and mindless servitors plodding along but they did not slow. After fifteen minutes of flat out running Reddam reached the launch bay, not the primary one used for the Chapter's Thunderhawks but a smaller one, filled with personnel shuttles and heavy lifters being serviced by chattels and servitors.

Reddam entered only to pull up short in surprise, stunned to see three strange machines sitting under tarpaulins, along with Chapter Master Coluber. The squad hastily formed a line, then saluted with their hearts over their fists as Reddam announced, "Reporting as ordered."

Coluber faced them squarely and saluted back, his power armour shining brilliantly and Venom's hilt gleaming at his hip as he said, "Reddam, good. I am here to brief you on the upcoming mission… Wait, you look injured, have you been fighting?"

Reddam replied honestly, "I was with Sergeant Treno in the fighting arena, he pressed his challenge hard."

Coulber lifted an eyebrow and asked, "Did you win?"

Reddam grinned slightly as he replied, "You have to ask?"

Coluber let slip a smile as he said, "That will teach our younger Brothers not to challenge one of the Old Seventeen. I confess I never planned for our training regimes to become sporting events but it seems effective, these new practices are helping us establish our own identity."

Reddam concurred, "It seems to work, but may I ask why you summoned us?"

Coluber nodded as he said, "Yes, Ferrac and I will be briefing all squads about the upcoming mission. Our fleet is translating in-system and will regroup in orbit over the target planet. Our Rogue Trader ally has provided us with information on the environment. It is an arboreal world, every inch save for oceans or mountain is covered in vast forests. Long-range observation has identified the objective, but the terrain is unsuitable for landing. We must slash-burn a landing zone some fifty kilometres away and approach through the forest."

Reddam grimaced as he spat, "Fifty kilometres, presumably under attack by feral Xenos the entire way, that sounds slow going."

Coluber agreed, "Slow and bloody, projections expect a cost in lives this Chapter cannot bear at the current time. Saffor's report indicates the Howling Griffons attempted to hasten their route with a mechanised assault, burning a path through the forest. A flawed stratagem, so we shall not repeat their error, we shall fly there."

Glord sounded confused as he protested, "Excuse me Chapter Master, but did you not say the objective was unsuitable for landing?"

Coluber did not fault the lad for speaking up and explained, "Yes I did, but we shall not fly over the canopy… we shall fly under it."

Every started and Joffel exclaimed, "Under the canopy, is that even possible?!"

Coluber smirked at their reaction and said, "Not normally but this is no normal planet. Gravity is low and the trees unusually tall and widely dispersed. Saffor tells us there is a vertical kilometre between the canopy and the ground, more than enough room for our gunships. Our allies in House Chamandley have assigned us a regiment of Huscarls and Valkyries to transport them. Your role will be to form part of our escort, this means you will have to leave your bikes behind and adopt a more suitable means of war."

With those words the chattels pulled back the tarpaulins and revealed the machines beneath. They were twin-boomed aircraft with downswept wings and vectored thrusters. A two-man cockpit was set before the intake of a circular jet engine and it bore a chin-mounted heavy bolter. Under the wings hung a pair of multi-lasers and circular rocket pods. The three machines looked hunched and predatory, brawlers of the skies, built to wreak destruction: Vulture gunships.

Reddam heard his squad gasp at the revelation and Glord exclaimed, "You want us to leave our bikes and fight in these?"

Larus sounded equally baffled as he said, "We've had hypno-indoctrination on basic flight, but we're not rated to fly these in combat."

Coluber explained, "That's why I am telling you now, you have three weeks until we reach orbit to train. Not much time I know, but you are Astartes, I expect you to excel."

Reddam stepped forward and peered at a vulture as he said, "I flew Stormtalons in another life, this won't be too different. We will simply have to get the rest of you up to speed. Joffel, Kazao you take one, sort out who will be pilot and gunner between yourselves. Larus and Tebes, you take the second. Glord, you'll be my gunner."

Glord glanced at Larus and said, "But I have a partner."

Reddam scowled as he snapped, "You're not joined at the hip. Learn to fight with the whole squad. Now come here and watch how I do pre-flight checks. We have very little time to prepare and I want you all rated to fly before we reach Athelling."