Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 77

Ferrac was pleased with the iron mask fused to his forehead, nose and cheekbones. The mask covered his features in plasteel, leaving only his eyes and jawline exposed. The effect was to give him a fearsome appearance and he enjoyed the way people shrank back from the sight of him. He already had plans to embellish it with a serpent design but that was for another day. Today the Amber Vipers were counting the costs of victory and the spoils of war. Through the depths of the Wyvern Ferrac marched, following Shrios and Coluber at a brisk pace. The Chapter Master looked resplendent in his refurbished armour, fitted with a dark iron Null Collar and a Volkite pistol hanging opposite his relic sword Venom. He was welcome to it, Ferrac was glad to have his sledgehammer gun back, though he had kept the knife he had taken from the Apophis. There was one other soul present, Rogue Trader Saffor Teliday, who was regaling the Astartes with tales of his escape.

Coluber listened politely then said, "It seems you had a lucky escape. I find it unbelievable you were able to outwit the Eldar."

Saffor smiled warmly as he said, "I have a trick or two up my sleeve. I dazzled with my wit then fought my way out past a score of guards."

"An astonishing story," Coluber commented.

A story was the right word, Ferrac thought, the tale was so embellished that it could not possibly be true. He doubted an Astartes could have pulled it off and Saffor was only mortal. Ferrac suspected the man was outrageously lying and he was sure Coluber thought the same. Still the man had made it back to orbit alive, which spoke much of his cunning and guile. As they talked the party had reached a large doorway and they stepped within to find a workshop, filled with bustling artisans and servitors. Machine tools screeched as they fashioned parts and men sang ritual chanteys of the forge. Bright flashes lit the space, as the smell of welding and soldering filled the air and the percussion of hammers rang loudly. Servo skulls floated overhead, spraying incense and atop a lectern a chattel with mechanical callipers for arms turned over the pages of a heavy book, reading aloud binaric psalms.

Among the crowd the artisan Nathanal was directing teams to and fro but he broke off when he saw the Chapter Master. He wiped his hands on a rag then stuffed it into a pocket of his overalls before striding over. Coluber called out, "How are our prizes coming along?"

"Surprisingly good," Nathanal replied, "We make swift progress, the machines are eager to serve."

Ferrac looked about and commented, "I don't see everything we took from Athelling."

Coluber explained, "The most dangerous artefacts are waiting a special containment facility. But I allowed Nathanal access to the Howling Griffon's gear and selection of lesser weapons."

Nathanal eyed Ferrac and said, "I see you kept the knife."

"It's a good knife," Ferrac replied defensively, "I call it 'Fang'."

"A Fang?" Nathanal mused, "A better name than gas-compression knife I suppose. And I see you claimed a Volkite pistol Master, take good care of it, if you break it I can't fix it."

Saffor interrupted to ask, "What treasures do you have for us?"

The man's greed was obvious but Nathanal seemed eager to show off and swept his arm about to encompass the room as he said, "We claimed thirty-seven suits of power armour, along with bolters, plasma cannons and meltas."

Ferrac was impressed and said, "That could expand Primus Cohort significantly."

"Only one extra squad," Coluber warned him, "We need the rest of the suits for parts to maintain our ailing armours."

Ferrac sank back, six squads was better than five but he would have preferred eight. Meanwhile Nathanal continued, "We also claimed three Rhino APC's and a Hunter anti-air, proud steeds with glorious histories. Two tanks… and of course this."

He gestured to a corner where teams of chattels lovingly tended a Land Speeder Storm. They diligently worked over its exposed mechanisms and polished its casing with loving pride. Ferrac noted where they were expanding its rear compartment and high atop protruded the familiar form of the Frost-field generator, granting the skimmer arcane protection. Nathanal informed them, "As per your instructions we are making a chariot fit for a Chapter Master, she will serve you well."

Ferrac glanced at his lord and questioned, "You are claiming this as your own?"

Coluber grinned as he answered, "I grow tired of lagging behind you in battle. With this I can keep up. Does it have a name?"

Nathanal informed them, "Info-cyte interrogation of the Machine Spirit reveals its name is Drakones."

Ferrac was impressed but suddenly there was a scream from behind. They spun about and saw a chattel working on the tanks had his hand caught in the caterpillar tracks. There were two machines, one a familiar Predator, the other a low swept machine with angled tracks and two huge plasma cannons on top. It was unlike any design Ferrac had ever seen, though its lines were clearly of Astartes origin. A half dozen chattels ran to the pinned man and heaved him backwards, he fell with a cry of pain and a spray of blood, missing half the fingers on his hand.

As men hurried to bandage the man's hand Nathanal sighed, "Oh for Frak's sake, not another one."

"Another?" Shrios probed.

"Aye," Nathanal sighed, "That's the fifth accident we've had with this Omega Sicaran. An ill aura hangs over that one."

"You think it's jinxed?" Ferrac warily asked, for such things were taken most seriously in the superstitious Imperium.

Yet Nathanal replied, "No, I think that one is a vicious bitch. It's Machine's Spirit is sullen and cruel and it likes biting the hand that feeds it. I can't even find its name in the internal logic engine; I think its laughing at me."

Everybody shrank back but Coluber ordered, "Enough of this, show me the real prize."

Nathanal sighed but then walked over to a corner, where a short pedestal was surrounded by chattels. They were studying a Hololithic projection, which displayed a series of schematics and data-flows. The mortals withdrew as their lords approached, allowing them to examine the projection in detail. Ferrac was intrigued by the flowing information but could not read any of it, the text was densely parsed and he said, "What is it?"

Nathanal explained eagerly, "This is data mined from the cogitator core you brought back. It's too advanced for me to comprehend, but any Tech-Priest would sell his metal heart for the technical records. Then there's this."

He pressed a rune on the console and the information changed. Ferrac recognised star charts appearing, showing colony worlds and military bases, but none of them were Imperial, this was a map of space as it was thirty thousand years ago. Saffor seemed intrigued as he murmured, "That's the Anchor Nebula. Using that as a reference that star must be Gotarna and that one Xethial, current Imperial worlds, but what are these? Here, look here, these six stars systems are marked as being colonised but they appear on no Imperial star chart I know of. Throne, those are undiscovered colonies of Man. They may never have been visited by the Imperium, who knows what riches they hold."

Coluber commented, "Worth pursuing another day but you haven't shown us the greatest treasure."

Nathanal grinned as he said, "I was saving the best for last: behold."

He manipulated the controls again and three schematics sprang up. Ferrac peered and saw some form of shuttle, a las-cannon and knife, one he recognised and he exclaimed, "That's my Fang."

Nathanal was practically giddy as he said, "Yes, this is the STC design for the gas-compression knife. It's so elegant and efficient, using this Template I can mass-produce those knives, even with our limited resources."

Coluber rubbed his jaw and said, "Make it a priority. I want every Amber Viper to carry a Fang at his side. But what are the other designs?"

Nathanal explained, "The cannon is some form of vehicle-mounted primary weapon, a 'Heavy Laser Destroyer' the files calls it. I need more time to examine it to see if we can use it. The other is an orbital cargo shuttle, civilian grade but easy to fit armour to. An Iapetus-class anti-grav hauler. Studying this gave us key information on how to repair your Land Speeder."

Saffor leaned in and said, "Look at the anti-grav plates along its underside, they must increase fuel efficiency. No shuttle I know of uses such a configuration. I… I don't think any world in the Imperium uses this model."

Nathanal nodded, "I haven't visited every world in the galaxy but I suspect you're right. This is an entirely new STC."

"Emperor Wept," Ferrac breathed in wonder, for it was a indeed a rare prize. An unknown STC would be a treasure beyond compare, the Adeptus Mechanicus would kill to own this, literal wars had been fought over a single STC and the Amber Vipers now owned three of them. The very idea made his head spin, the Tech-Priests would offer anything for these designs, any price the Amber Vipers demanded. It seemed Coluber agreed for he reached down and pressed a rune, causing the shuttle design to be uploaded to a data-crystal, which he pulled from the pedestal. He held it up to the light then faced Saffor and said, "This will suffice for my purposes. I will take this to House Chamandley and present it to the Novator to seal our bargain. With this our new allies' allegiance will be secured."

Saffor looked on with envious eyes as he said, "It certainly will, and then some. Walkaq will be delighted, this will buy him enough riches to walk into the palaces of Terra and lord over his rivals. But why only one, what of the other two STCs?"

"Your greed is obvious," Coluber decreed, "But I don't trust you enough to let you near them."

Saffor's head rose and his brow furrowed as he said, "I don't follow."

Coluber's calm expression darkened as he ordered, "Ferrac, detain him."

Saffor's jaw dropped but Ferrac's hand moved like lightning and clamped around the Rogue Trader's neck, lifting him off the floor like a bag of flour. The man kicked and squirmed in his grip but could not get free and his face turned red he spluttered, "What are you doing?!"

Coluber leaned in and growled, "Did you take me for a fool? You were captured by the Eldar, yet walked out without a scratch. I don't believe it, they wouldn't let you live… unless you were useful. You helped them, you sold us out!"

Saffor looked desperate as he protested, "I didn't…"

"Lie to me and I will snap your neck," Ferrac snarled as he shook the man.

Saffor bit down on his retort then said, "What else was I supposed to do? You left me to die, you abandoned me, so I made my own arrangements. You would have done the same."

Coluber sneered, "You do not deny it, I should kill you… but I have a better use for you. Shrios."

The Apothecary pulled a small syringe from his belt and Ferrac watched with interest as he stepped up to the helpless Rogue Trader and rammed it into the neck. Saffor yelped in protest but couldn't resist as the Apothecary injected the contents and then stepped back. At a nod from Coluber Ferrac dropped the Rogue Trader and Saffor hit the deck, rubbing his neck as he exclaimed, "What was that?!"

Shrios answered, "A Carvaj gene-blight, a virus that attacks your genic code. The initial effects are unpleasant enough, yet that's just it settling in. Once in your genes it starts to generate cancers, filling your body with tumours. The effects are slow but you'll start to feel it in a few years. Removing the tumours surgically will buy you a few more years but you won't live a decade"

Saffor looked horrified as he spluttered, "Why have you done this?!"

Coluber grinned evilly as he said, "As insurance, I have a mission for you and I needed a guarantee that you'll come back for the cure."

Saffor's eyes widened as he said, "A cure? You infect me with a disease and then offer a cure, in exchange for what?"

Coluber explained, "You will go explore those lost colony worlds for me. I have alliances to build and wars to fight, I cannot waste time poking around ruins but you can. Find me something of worth, something valuable enough to warrant a cure and I will undo this affliction."

Saffor glared at them and spat, "You want me to go thieving for you?! Where is your vaunted honour?!"

Ferrac growled, "If you want an honourable death I can shoot you right now."

Saffor's face screwed up but he bit down the retort. Instead he stood up and brushed himself off, then he glared at the lot of them before storming off, muttering under his breath, "Miserable thieving bastards, I should have known better than to get involved with Astartes. Never work with animals, children or Space Marines."

The party watched him go and when he was out of the room Ferrac muttered, "A good incentive but you know he'll rush straight to his Apothecarion and try to find a cure."

"Let him try," Shrios said, "His medicaes can't cure something that isn't there."

Nathanal had been watching this play out and said, "I don't understand, you said you infected him with a Carvaj gene-blight."

Shrios sniffed, "Carvaj? There is no such thing. I made it up."

Ferrac's head snapped about and he exclaimed, "You tricked him! But what was in that syringe?"

Shrios smirked as he answered, "An inoculation for Necromundian flu, nothing more. The itching and rashes will be unpleasant for a few weeks but he'll recover with no long term effects."

Ferrac couldn't help but laugh out loud, "Ha! Saffor will be in an Apothecarion for months, prodded and poked by chirurgeons looking for a disease that isn't there!"

Shrios laughed, "The kind of tests they'll subject him to will be far worse than my little shot."

Everybody chuckled evilly but Nathanal asked, "Won't he figure it out eventually?"

Coluber declared, "Not before he brings us something of value. In the meantime, we have work to do."

Ferrac glanced at his lord and guessed, "The weapons we took from the ship?"

"Indeed," Coluber affirmed, "We must address this immediately. Come Brothers leave the artisans to their work, we have a most unpleasant task ahead of us."