Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 48

The vulture sat before him, its engines cold and its weapons locked down. The large fan behind the extended cockpit was idle and the twin boomed glistened with traces of fuel and sacred unguents. The litanies of awakening were complete and the Machine Spirit was prepared for war. It looked like a hunched predator, waiting to spring into life and strike down its prey, all it lacked was a pilot.

Sergeant Reddam stood before it, his spear shucked over his shoulder as he examined his attack craft. All around him the forward base bustled with activity, with chattels running everywhere. Fuel bowers chugged and servitor loaders groaned as they tended to waiting craft. The noise of an army readying to engage was deafening, making the ears hurt with the intensity, but Reddam was used to that. He was not troubled by the hammering of machinery nor the raw stink of fumes and oils, compared to the thunder of battle and the stench of spilt blood it was nothing but a nuisance.

The facility had been completed in just under six hours, still a long time by Reddam's reckoning and then unloading their transports and getting them fuelled and armed had taken four more. Ten hours on the planet and they weren't engaged in battle, by Space Marine standards that was a snail's pace. Yet their labours had paid off, across the field a hundred Valkyrie transports sat idling, their mortal pilots running preflight checks. Each one was armed with a forward-firing multi-laser and had a heavy bolter hanging from open side doors. These craft had been a gift from House Chamandley, as had the thousand Huscarls marching into the troop bays, their gaudy uniforms already caked with mud and their fur hats causing the men to sweat profusely. Those outfits might look intimidating in ballrooms and palaces but in the field they were wholly impractical. One Valkyrie had been set aside for Rogue Trader Saffor Teliday, who wore carapace armour under a jaunty cape and knee-high leather boots, his typical flamboyant attire making him stick out like an Ork at a court dance.

The Amber Vipers for their part were boarding their own collection of transports, salvaged and purloined from various wars. The towering transhumans boarded in perfect lockstep, each one alert and ready to fight at a moment's notice. Among the multitude sat the Thunderhawks Viper's Bite and Poisoned Fang, the bulky gunships looming over the crowd. Their quadruple twin-linked heavy bolters and racks of missiles promising certain death to anything they encountered. Reddam should have been reassured by so potent a display of might, the sheer number of craft a sledgehammer of Imperial power, but he knew that such numbers could also be a disadvantage. The human pilots would be forced to fly in rigid formations lest they crash into each other and in the event of an attack there was a real possibility that panicking mortal gunners would gun down their comrades with wild shooting.

He sighed aloud, "Oh for a dozen Thunderhawks, loaded with Astartes and flight of Stormtalons."

Beside him Glord snorted, "Why not wish for a Battlebarge while you're at it?"

Reddam scowled as he snapped, "Don't make light of the risks, we are taking these paper soldiers to war, they are as likely to shoot each other as a Xeno."

From his other side Joffel pointed out, "We've been on this world for hours and haven't seen a hint of Eldar activity. Maybe that Rogue Trader exaggerated the threat. They may be few and scattered across the planet. We could be in and out before they even notice we're here."

Tebes shook his head and said, "Doubtful, we have idled for ten hours, that means they have had plenty of time to prepare. I expect trouble ahead."

Joffel grinned as he said, "You always do."

"He's right," Reddam exclaimed, "Things are going too well, that's usually a sign you're walking into a trap."

Kazao interrupted the argument as he said, "Looks like we're ready, hadn't we better board our vultures?"

Reddam nodded and led them to where their three vultures were sitting on the hard pad. Gangs of chattels stepped back from the machines as the Astartes inspected their condition, when it came to aircraft readiness there was no such thing as too much caution. Joffel and Kazao moved to circle one machine, inspecting its condition with practised moves, that they had rehearsed frequently over the last few weeks. Tebes and Larus went to another, starting their preflight checks as Larus muttered, "Try not to get us shot for once."

Reddam however went to the lead vulture and began checking everything was in place. The fuel tank was fully loaded and the pressure levels in the hydraulic system were optimal. The landing gear was in perfect order and the vox antenna was intact. The vector thrusters were clear and the air intake blades in alignment. The heavy bolter was ready as were the multi-lasers and the circular rocket pods. Finally he glanced up and saw the identifier number sprayed on the tail booms but he placed a hand against its fuselage where fresh white letters had been painted upon the hull. The cold numerical designation had been deemed too sterile for a hunter such as this, so they had christened the gunship's spirit with a new name: 'White Condor.'

Satisfied all was in order Reddam strode up to the cockpit and gently laid his spear alongside the pilot's seat before climbing inside. Glord jumped into the gunner's seat and glanced at the shining weapon taking up the length of the cockpit as he remarked, "You're bringing that along?"

Reddam strapped himself in and placed a vox-bead in his ear as he retorted, "I'm not leaving it here."

Glord pulled a targeting lens over his eye and muttered, "Let's hope you don't have to use it, if they get close enough for that we'll be in the grox-dung up to our necks."

Reddam didn't respond as he sealed the cockpit then moved his hands over the controls, awakening the Machine Spirit. The cockpit was somewhat cramped for his eight-foot frame and the straps barely fit over his shoulders but at least he wasn't in power armour, it would have been impossible to fit was he so. He looked out of the cockpit and saw a chattel waving an all-clear signal to him, indicating the pad was clear of personnel and began his take-off ritual. In moments he had activated the various systems and he held his thumb over the ignition rune as he intoned, "Oh blessed Machine I summon you to war. May your wings carry us to battle and your fury strike down the enemy. May your armour be proof against the blandishments of the foe and should we fall may it be in glorious victory." With the litany completed he pressed the rune and was rewarded with a short bang from behind his head, followed by a high pitched whine that grew into a throaty roar as the jet engine spun up. The whole vulture rattled with building power and Reddam called, "Vox check."

From the right Kazao called, "Ready."

From the left Larus called, "Standing by."

Reddam widened the vox and called, "Alpha flight is ready for take-off."

The vox crackled and then Chapter Master Coluber called from Viper's Bite, "All units prepare to take off in sequence. You know our objective, you know what's at stake, the future of the Amber Vipers depends upon this moment. Tales will be told of this day and the triumph of our Chapter, for we shall take one more step on the path to glory. Now, its fifty kilometres to the target and we're burning daylight: let's move."

Reddam grinned slightly at that, Coluber could still turn a phrase when he needed to. He placed his hands on the controls and pushed the throttle open. The jet engine built in power and blasts of vector thrust shot out of the nozzles at the wingtips, then White Condor lifted off the ground. Reddam fluttered the controls, to keep the take-off smooth and the base fell away from his sight, as the sky grew. He was pleased with the handling, as always Imperial technology proved remarkably adaptable and robust. He had seen a hundred worlds and their unique variants of air technology, almost always specialised to local conditions. Ornithopters from an ocean world wouldn't last more than a few hours over desert terrain and air-skiffs from verdant agri-worlds would be clogged by smog on industrial planets. Yet the STC designed Vulture pattern was equally capable in any environment, this craft could fly as easily on Athelling as it could on Tallarn or Inwit or Terra itself.

Reddam lifted high and was followed by his flight of Vultures, along with nine more. Four squads designated to fly escort over the expedition, all ready and eager for combat. They rose several hundred metres before the Valkyries began to take off, lines of them rising in sequences behind them. The noise in the cockpit was deafening but Reddam's genhanced hearing cut through it with ease and he heard the various pilots calling out to each other, coordinating their lift-off. Then the Thunderhawks rose on vectored thrust, climbing over everybody.

Reddam called, "Alpha flight will take point, Beta take the low left flank and Gamma the low right, Delta take rear position. Keep your eyes open everybody, here we go." Reddam adjusted the controls and his vulture began to glide forward, powering away as he diverted thrust to the rear engines. The base disappeared as the towering forest grew in his sight, the immense trees rising well above them. It seemed bizarre that mere vegetation could rise so high but it meant there was plenty of room to manoeuvre and in mere moments they slipped into the eternal twilight under the canopy. He blinked furiously as his eyes adapted then he saw the endless forest surround him on all sides. It was the strangest thing he had ever experienced, and he had fought across Daemon Worlds. The canopy above shimmered constantly, moved by winds he could not see and the great columns of the trees loomed in his path. It seemed ridiculous to be flying through this immense forest, yet here they were, flying between the canopy and the ground five hundred metres below. The immense trees were widely placed, allowing him to weave between them with ease but for merely human pilots it was a troubling prospect.

Glord leaned forward to thump his auspex and muttered, "Fang-rot, it's far too cluttered under here. Auspex can't make head nor tails of the returns, its identifying everything as a target, we have no long-range readings at all."

Reddam had expected this and voxed, "Pick up your visual scanning, mark one eyeball is all we have."

The flocks of transports and gunships began to fly through the forest, weaving between the towering columns of the trees. Reddam steered his Vulture through the turns, enjoying the sensation of speed and power at his command. In a former life he had flown Stormtalon attack craft for time, and these were comparable. Slower, heavier and less advanced in many respects but their eager spirit more than made up for it. White Condor was fast and well-armed, with manoeuvrable handling and sharp acceleration, it responded to his slightest touch on the controls, weaving about the trees with ease. As it turned out it was too easily.

The vox crackled and Coluber ordered, "Vultures, you are pulling too far ahead reduce speed."

"Order acknowledged," Reddam confirmed as he reduced thrust and turned slightly to glance behind. What he saw was less than encouraging, the Valkyries were struggling to hold formation, their rigid lines having to break up to avoid the trees. The mortal pilots kept trying to reform but every time they did so the next tree would loom up in their path. If they tried to move faster they would end up scattered in random directions, left to fend for themselves. They had to break up avoid collisions then reform afterwards. All this meant they were making slow progress, far slower than anticipated.

Glord hissed, "Throne's sake they're making a mess of this."

Reddam agreed, "Clumsy mortals, we will have to slow down to let them adapt."

Glord muttered, "If we could fly over the canopy we could be there in ten minutes."

"Well we can't," Reddam admitted, "We'll just have to take it slow. Keep alert, we're not safe here."

Slowly the human pilots managed to find some form of order, forming longer lines that snaked between the trees like trails of ants. It was unwieldy and inefficient, but it allowed them to make some progress. With order restored the flights resumed their progress, slower than before but at least they were moving. After ten minutes they had covered about a quarter of the distance and Reddam began to think they might make it to their goal unmolested. He was to prove tragically wrong.

One moment he was flying ahead of the transports and the next the canopy exploded with a riot of colours. Red and greys and bronze wings bursting from the green roof, carrying bone-headed beasts in diving attacks. On their backs were lithe figures covered in woad and bearing primitive weapons. They were humanoid in form but far too limber and graceful in their movements. No human could have clung onto the diving beasts without harnesses, let alone wielded weapons, but these beings did so without a qualm. They were inhuman in their speed and agility, the grace that could only belong to the Eldar and they stooped upon the vulnerable gunships in a head-on attack.

Reddam saw them coming and gripped the controls tighter as he yelled, "Eldar ambush! Stand-by to engage, here they come!"