Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 66
Ferrac waited in the dark, standing still and silent. His jump pack was pressed up against a bulkhead but before him extended a balcony, sticking out into the dank air. He was alone but he knew the other Amber Vipers were nearby, waiting for his signal to act. Ferrac wanted to give that order; he wanted retribution for the losses his Chapter had suffered on this world. The need for vengeance squatted in his heart like a lump of burning coal, scorching his innards with festering hate but he held firm. They would only get one shot at this and he needed to make the most of it.
Below his position was a major thoroughfare, an arterial route through the bowels of the Apophis. The walls were high and lined with balconies and bridges, making it a complex multi-tiered nexus in the ship. Ancient images adorned the walls, faded into obscurity until nothing could be made out. The air processors fitted to the roof hadn't functioned in thousands of years, making the air dank and musty, had Ferrac not been Astartes he would be struggling to breathe. Surely once this place must had served as a transit for the ship's crew, but now it served the Eldar.
Far below numerous Xenos were passing along the thoroughfare, hundreds of them flowing through the space, illuminated by glowing orbs held on sticks. They were using the passage to move quickly through the ship, spreading their hunting parties far and wide. They sought to cover as much ground as possible and cut off the Amber Viper's escape. The notion made Ferrac grin under his helm, the Xenos thought they had him on the run, little realising that the tables were about to turn. Ferrac was armed and equipped with items taken from the armoury: grenades, pistols and knives though he had kept his trusty axe-rake, nothing would part him from that. At his feet squatted a bulky device, too large and cumbersome to carry on his person. Kerubim swore it was a force-field projector of some description, though Ferrac had never seen one like this, he could only trust that the boy knew what he was talking about.
Ferrac noticed that the number of Eldar was increasing, ever more of them flowing through the nexus. That was good, he wanted a critical mass of foes to unleash his new weapons upon, the element of surprise was an advantage that could only be used once. The feral Xenos looked laughable in their woad and feathers, their arrows and spears flimsy things, but he knew how dangerous they could be. Plus there were the beasts travelling with them, their clawed feet, tusks and impenetrable shells dangerous even to him. The Eldar's numbers were so great that he could barely see the deck anymore and Ferrac judged it was time. The Battle-Captain leaned down and pressed a rune on the projector, which glowed bluely from its many coils and dishes, then he stepped out onto the balcony and cried, "Face me Xeno scum!"
The Eldar's reaction time was astounding, a hundred pairs of eyes darted to his position and just as many bows drew taut and fired at him. Ferrac faced a hurricane of arrowheads coming right at him, their thorn-tips sharp enough to penetrate his plate. They crossed the distance in moments, but then they encountered his force-field. Kerubim had tried to explain it's function to him, saying that the term force-field was a catchall for a staggering variety of types and grades of shields. Most Imperial devices functioned on the principle of creating a standing particle field or shifting dangerous elements away or dropping them into the Warp, but this one was different. The strange device did not convert power to create a defence but rather drained energy from incoming fire, robbing matter of molecular dynamism and energy shots of vitality. The rate was relative to velocity so the faster an incoming shot moved the more energy the projector stole. As the arrows crossed an invisible boundary their molecules were drained of energy, slowing down to almost nothing. The arrows froze in mid-air, becoming flying blocks of chilled matter that lost all tensile strength. Ferrac felt the frozen arrows patter off his armour, their forms shattering harmlessly against his plate after passing through what he had daubed a 'Frost-field'. The Eldar were dumbfounded, unable to grasp what had happened and then Ferrac acted.
"Now Brothers!" he cried as he took up a grenade from his belt. Down the length of the passageway other Amber Vipers emerged from cover, stepping out into the open and drawing grenades of their own. Ferrac took the odd cylinder from his belt, stolen from the armoury, and popped the pin before tossing it over the balcony along with the rest of the squad. His grenade passed through the Frost-field and was chilled by its effects, but it was moving slowly enough not to be rendered inert. It spun through the air, tumbling gracefully down onto the Eldar and it detonated above their heads. A soft pop signalled the internal charge breaking open the containment vessel, a deceptively small sound for a blast that sprayed radioactive filaments over the crowd. Ferrac's rad-counter began ticking alarmingly as the shrapnel scythed forth, ploughing into unarmoured flesh and scaly hides. The effect on the Eldar was far more distressing, dozens of them went down with metallic splinters cutting into their bodies, the physical damage devastating to their unprotected forms. Yet that was merely the start for the filaments were lethally radioactive. Skin blackened in seconds, sooty veins worming deeply within the bodies of the injured as rad-particles killed their cells. Fingers and toes withered in the blast, eyes went blind and throats closed as if they were breathing in choking gas. Those struck by the blasts fell from their mounts, dying with black lines of rot burrowing into them. Even those nearby were not able to avoid the fallout, doubling over and retching as rad-sickness overwhelmed them with nausea.
The rad-grenades were potent weapons yet their effects were short-lived, the filaments having a half-life of less than a minute once released. The Eldar had been struck a deadly blow, yet their sorrow had only just begun. Other grenades contained a variety of poisons, choking gases and nerve gases, mixing together to create a toxic miasma that billowed through the nexus. Eldar fell to their knees, clawing at their throats and unable even to scream as they fought to draw a single breath. The Eldar had been dealt a crippling blow and before they could recover Ferrac snarled, "Open fire!"
Across the length of the passageway the Amber Vipers emerged, each bearing energy weapons stolen from the armoury. Ferrac lifted a Volkite Serpenta in his hand and drew a bead upon an Eldar with feathers woven to his back like a cape. The grip was far too small for his hand and he would far rather have had his sledgehammer gun, but he would make do. A squeeze of the trigger and a flash of searing crimson light shot forth, a thermal ray that struck the target dead on. Volkite technology was a lost art in the Imperium, the arcane thermal devices beyond any Magos' ability to replicate but their effects were still remembered. Flesh deflagrated under the searing power of the ray, turning to ash that explosively jetted out from the impact site. The Eldar target died before he knew he had been hit, dissolving into a cloud of flaming ash and feathers that coated his fellows in a shower of disintegrating flakes.
Ferrac fired again and again, killing with every shot but the others had chosen more perilous weapons. Kregulf, Paneyr and Berio had taken up the burden of carrying Fission-blasters and they discharged actinic red blasts into the crowd. Ferrac's rad-counter increased its ticking with every shot, each pull of the trigger staining the environment with poisonous fallout. Scores of Eldar disappeared in bursts of red light, atomised by the star-hot blasts. On and on the Amber Vipers fired, tearing ragged holes into the crowd, leaving behind piles of slain foes and still the rad-count only increased. They were slaughtering droves of Xenos but the cost to their bodies was terrible. Blowback from the Fission-blasters coated their armour, seeking to violate their flesh and had they not been Astartes they would have already received lethal doses of radiation. As if that wasn't enough the fallout denatured their proud colours, staining their amber heraldry black. The trio's arms and breastplates were infected with growing stains of blackness, but they stoically bore the affront to their warrior pride and continued firing.
Elsewhere Kerubim leaned over a balcony and fired an Adrathic rifle into the crowd. The energy weapon was so rare that Ferrac had never even heard of such a thing, indeed no adept outside the Imperial Palace on Terra would have recognised the golden blasts, though they would have been outraged that any other possessed such a device. Fission-blasters, Volkites and Adrathic guns fired into the crowd, decimating the Eldar in droves, but one other had yet to add his fury. Brother Radfal stepped out of the darkness and pointed a bile-flamer into the crowd and then ejected a spray of toxic chemicals. No purifying fire was released from this weapon, no stream of cleansing flame. The chemical spray coated its targets in a caustic sludge that clung to their skin even as it ate it away and produce choking clouds of toxic gas. Beset by radiation, toxic gas and burning sludge the Eldar fell screaming to the floor, watching their skin rotting off, hair falling out and teeth dropping from rotting gums. They clawed at their dissolving faces and beat their heads in agony as the passageway became an abattoir of nightmares.
Ferrac lifted his axe-rake and snarled, "Finish them!" He matched deeds to words as he stepped off the balcony and fell feet first to the deck. He felt an icy claw grip his innards as he passed through his arcane protection but he hit the ground with a thud and swung his axe-rake, chopping apart the nearest Xeno. The Eldar were in no state to fight back, left dying on their knees from the noxious environment, even those least afflicted were doubled over in pain, retching and vomiting profusely as radiation sickness tore at their guts. Ferrac too felt the effects, his armour's seals were clogged with toxic fumes and his rad-counter screamed constantly in his ear yet he pressed on. He waded through the crowd, axe-rake rising and falling with a methodical rhythm. This was not a fight, this was pitiless butchery, without challenge or honour. Ferrac was doing no more than executing helpless Eldar and in his hearts he suspected the Xenos would welcome the cold peace of death.
Two more thuds announced Brothers Vardat and Sedya joining him. They wielded long-handled glaives with crackling blade edges. Burst-lances they had deemed the weapons and in their hafts were concealed volkite generators, sheathing the edges with a contact thermal effect. They struck the collapsed Eldar with great sweeps of their lances and where they made contact flesh dissolved into flaming ash. Sedya dispatched Eldar with shallow cuts, the explosive after-effects enough to inflict lethal wounds. Vardat went after the larger beasts, favouring thrusting stabs to plunge his lance into chests and watch as the animals burst into clouds of ash. The pair were wrecking slaughter and all the while red and gold blasts kept descending from on high, mixed with streams of toxic sludge.
Ferrac was starting to have trouble breathing in the putrid haze, his throat burning and his multi-lung struggling to filter the toxins from the air. His skin itched from rad-contact and his eyes watered but still he pressed on, hewing heads from necks with relentless sweeps of his axe-rake. He marched from one end of the nexus to the other, killing all he encountered until at last he found one of the shelled creatures. He lifted his axe-rake but there was no need to strike for the animal was dying already, its lungs rotting from the inside out. It collapsed at his feet, eyes liquefying in their sockets and he realised that this was the last of the enemy.
Ferrac turned to survey his handiwork and was amazed to see nothing but piles of corpses. Hundreds of Eldar dead were laid up in every corner, their faces pictures of terror and torment. Ferrac had seen atrocities beyond count in his life and been responsible for many of them but even so this gave him pause. The fight had become a massacre, a place not of valorous battle but bloody slaughter. The weapons had been undeniably effective but their dishonourable nature left a bad taste in his mouth and a coldness in his hearts that had nothing to do with the environment.
Brother Vardat approached through the toxic haze saying, "We cannot stay, the toxicity overwhelms our armour's spirit. The very air has become poison."
Ferrac began walking away as he said, "All Brothers, fall back, this is a start but we haven't won anything yet. We will hit the Eldar again and again until they are all dead."
From above Kregulf called, "Again?! Battle-Captain these weapons are dishonourable. They are the tools not of a warrior but a sadistic torturer, it is an affront to our martial pride to wield such filth."
Ferrac wished he could say he agreed, he never wanted to see such armaments used again, but he knew they had no other choice. The Amber Vipers had to wield these weapons or lose the war, which meant he had to drive any doubt from his Brother's heads. "You have no right to speak to me of dishonour," Ferrac barked harshly, "Killing Eldar is all that matters. Death is death, by bolter, blade or poison matters not. We have these guns and we have no choice save to use them. Follow me and let's set up our next ambush."
With that Ferrac led his brothers from the scene of the massacre, seemingly unflinching in his resolve but troubled in his hearts. He hadn't been lying when he told the others that they would have to use these weapons but what he hadn't told them was that these were mere toys compared to what he had seen inside the secret inner vault. After what he had beheld in that place Ferrac was starting to think the galaxy would have been better off had the Apophis remained lost forever.