Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 85

Kimdaria fell away as the Angantyr climbed into the sky, entering the stratosphere on blazing plasma wash. The drop-ship was a massive cylinder, which could easily fit a full company of troops in its cavernous launch bay. The largest orbital-interface transport the Amber Vipers boasted and the only one capable of lifting their mechanised formations into orbit in one transit.

Glord looked out of a porthole as the curvature of the planet became visible. It was a dark world, living in perpetual twilight, the envelope of its atmosphere a gossamer veil spread over forbidding forests and jagged mountain ranges. Kimdaria dwelt in the eternal gloom of the Grim Pall nebula, blocking much of the planet's natural sunlight and casting it into shadow and horror. Kimdaria was only on the edge of the nebula and in the last few millennia had enjoyed a lessening of its morbid gloom, but when it had first been discovered in the Great Crusade there had only been eternal night. It reminded Glord of a lurking arachnid, a waiting predator laying concealed until its prey stumbled into the trap and was consumed. Mankind had been such prey, lured to colonise the planet and by all rights should have been devoured, yet those ancient colonists had survived and thrived. It was a testament to House Mortan's stern fury, a proud zeal that had served them well in battles across the stars.

Glord was proud of his Chapter's involvement in saving the Knight World and his part in it, yet the time had come to put that behind him and consider the future. His eyes lifted from the world and looked out into the void. His eyes swept the orbits, looking for the Amber Viper's meagre fleet but he saw nothing. They were still many hours away from the Wyvern and her flotilla, the sheer distances involved in space travel making any effort to see ships with eyeballs farcical. Only on final approach would the ships become visible and even then they would be mere flecks of illumination. So Glord turned his eyes to the deep void.

The emptiness of space greeted him, absent of stars or moons. The Grim Pall nebula obscured all such natural beauty, its purple and jade smears painting the void a lurid sheen of colour. What little light was birthed in that nebula served only to make the colours more pronounced, swirling together like oils on a painter's palate. The Grim Pall nebula, the Shroud of Tempestus, the Hungering Void, the Black Veil, the Devourer. Yes, the nebula had many names on many worlds, but all who looked upon it knew it was inimical to all life. Only the outskirts of the nebula had ever been mapped and whatever lay in the deepest heart of that malignancy remained a mystery, an event horizon of ignorance men labelled the Masio Silentium. Terrible was its reputation and all God-Emperor fearing men avoided it as best they could. Too many colonies had vanished, too many convoys and ships had been swallowed by the nebula for Mankind to view it with anything but dread.

Glord sighed as he turned away, looking within the Drop-ship. Within the cavernous interior Astartes lounged with their squadmates, taking their ease now the battle was done. They laughed and joked, comparing scars and making overblown boasts of their prowess in battle. Kill tallies were compared and carefully added to squad totals, the measure of glory a fierce competition between units. The Amber Vipers encouraged such rivalries, to egg the Brothers on to greater feats of valour. However to avoid rancour glory was measured at the squad level, not the individual, lest it breed dissent and petty feuds.

The Astartes took up the upper deck of the drop-ship, all Primus and Secundus warriors. The lower deck was filled with bikes, Vulture gunships and tanks, the Angantyr able to fit all their vehicles with room to spare. Among those machines chattel-artisans moved, carefully tending to their charges, making field repairs and blessing the Machine Spirits with sprinkled holy oils. Glord knew he would have to tend to his bike later but for now he wanted to relax.

He mooched over to his squad and found them sitting in a circle, resting upon crates. They looked in good spirits, sharing stories and quips. Joffel and Kazao were playing some card game, gambling for spent bolt casings. By the looks of it Joffel was winning, probably because Kazao hadn't realised his cards were reflected in the dark visor of his stormtrooper helmet for all to see. Larus and Reddam were sharing a pallet of beers, supping heavily from the tins. Meanwhile Tebes, dour as ever, was reading a small book of dense text, studiously ignoring everybody.

Glord flopped down on a crate and picked up a beer, he cracked it open and drank filling his mouth with hoppy flavour until it was empty. He swallowed deeply, then pulled his chin in tight and held his breath, then opened his mouth and let out a loud belch that made other squads look up in surprise. Then he grinned broadly as Reddam's nose wrinkled and Larus waved a hand before his face.

"Emperor Wept," Reddam sighed, "So much for the dignity of the Adeptus Astartes. If the vaunted Ultramarines could see you scruffy vagrants their heads would explode."

Glord knew the Sergeant wasn't really offended, the squad had been through too much and saved each other's lives too many times for any of them to take umbrage. He picked up another beer and asked, "What are we drinking for?"

"Toasting Brother Nuros' death," Larus informed him.

Glord's face fell and he regretted his earlier boorishness as he gasped, "Nuros?! Of the Old Seventeen."

"Aye," Reddam sighed with a mournful face, "He died in battle, as we all should."

"Fang-rot," Glord muttered, "I can't believe it. I thought the Old Seventeen were immortal, that you lot would always be around to spoil our fun. Nuros was a good sort, he saved our lives on Athelling."

Reddam drew in a breath and uttered, "We marched through hell together, saw the rebirth of the Amber Vipers. I shall always remember him."

"To Nuros," Glord said as he raised his tin, "Glory shall ever echo to his name."

They drank deep and sat in silence. Glord knew they couldn't get drunk but the taste was pleasant and they enjoyed each other's company. Silence stretched out for long moments as Glord thought about what to say next, but nothing came. He rolled the tin in his hands, waiting for someone to speak. Then suddenly Kazao threw down his cards in disgust and cried, "Again?! How do you keeping winning?!"

Tebes turned a page in his book and remarked, "He can see the cards reflected in your visor."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Kazao exclaimed in shock.

Joffel grinned ear to ear as a laugh escaped his lips, "Never interrupt your rival when he's making a mistake."

Glord chuckled loudly, "You have to admit, it was a good jest."

Kazao's mutated face was hidden behind his visor but his annoyance leaked out as he growled, "I'm never playing cards with any of you again."

Joffel smirked evilly as he turned to Tebes and asked, "You up for a hand?"

Tebes didn't look up as he replied, "No, I'm at a good page."

"What you reading?" Glord asked.

"A treatise on bolt-round velocities in differing atmospheric conditions," Tebes explained, "According to this scholar one can improve bolter accuracy by two percent with proper accounting for air density."

Glord shook his head as he scoffed, "That's what you do to relax?"

Tebes sternly replied, "I do not need to relax, we should all be striving to be the most perfect Astartes we can be."

"Phft!" Glord snorted in derision.

However Reddam countered, "Tebes is right. An Astartes should be foremost concerned with his battle craft, his devotion to duty and seeking only to serve the Emperor. We should be glad to exist with nothing save our bolters and the strength He has given unto us. We don't need fancy awards and gilt tokens to be the best of men."

Glord cocked his head and asked, "Does that mean you don't want another beer?"

Reddam grinned as he quipped, "I never said that. Pass one over, you scruffy vagabonds must be rubbing off on me."

Glord picked up another tin and chucked it over. Yet as he did so he sensed a stir moving through the various squads. His head turned and he beheld a marvel. The stern and proud forms of Brother-Exemplars Seyda and Vardat moving through the crowd. Amongst the mismatched armour marks of Primus and the scout-plate of Secundus their artificer armour shone like polished jewels. Every inch of their lauded Mark VIII armour gleaming, their helms held high and Burst-Lances braced in parade stance. They moved through the crowd without pause, knowing all held them in awe as they descended to the lower deck to inspect the chattel-artisan's placating Drakones' spirit.

"See," Tebes said, "Look at them, peerless examples of what we could become if we put our minds to it."

"Truly glorious," Joffel breathed.

Glord however sniffed, "They're not that great. They still bleed the same colour blood we do."

"You're just jealous," Joffel snapped, "But I shall not hold it against you when I join their ranks."

"You?!" Kazao snorted, "You think you have what it takes to be a Brother-Exemplar?"

Joffel lifted his head proudly and proclaimed, "I do. I shall rise to Primus Cohort, then a Sergeant's rank, then the Brother-Exemplars. You wait and see, I shall do it."

Tebes snorted, "Trouble with that dream is you'll never fit your big head into a helm."

Joffel scowled as everybody chuckled at the dig and he snapped, "What of you, what do you dream?"

In response Tebes merely stated, "I dream of being the best Astartes I can be, I wish only to serve to my full potential. What of you Reddam?"

The Sergeant sighed, "A full and glorious Chapter, without a dishevelled bunch of misfits back-talking me everyday. Larus?"

"Completing my collection," Larus said as he reached behind his crate and pulled out a string of Ork teeth.

Glord rolled his eyes for the Brother had a habit of acquiring trophies from the slain, body parts, tokens, discarded weapons. He was turning into a magpie, filling their barracks with odd bits of rubbish and alien skulls. Glord sighed, "What more could you possibly add?"

Larus mused upon it and then said, "I would like to encounter a Tyranid."

"No you wouldn't," Reddam growled, "Trust me on this."

Kazao broke in then to say, "Well, I am already living my dream. To fight alongside Brothers and share in the glory of battle. It is all an Aberrant like me can ask for. What of you Glord?"

Glord was put back by the macabre speech of their mutated Brother, his gene-seed defect meaning he could never hope for promotion or even a genic legacy. Yet the question set Glord back, what did he want, what could he possibly desire more than the company of his fellows? To fight and die as an Amber Viper was all he had ever desired and he honestly didn't know what else to say, so shrugged it off, "I desire another beer."

Reddam grinned as he reached into the crate between them and handed over the last tin saying, "Careful, if Ferrac saw you like this he'd have you sent to the Cerberii."

The jest fell flat as all shuddered and Glord muttered, "Urgh, don't say that out loud. Someone might hear you."

Joffel grimaced foully as he spat, "What were they doing, charging in like that? They should stay guarding their gate, not taint our glory."

Larus added, "They make me nauseous. Disgraced turncoats, failures and recidivists. Why Coluber let them live is a mystery."

Kazao added, "Better to die cleanly than suffer eternal dishonour."

Tebes added, "They are a blight on our Chapter and their weapons are unworthy of any Astartes."

"Enough, enough," Reddam barked, "It was a poor jest, you don't have to get worked up about it. The Cerberii serve an important function and you can't deny their threat has kept the new recruits in line. They're far more disciplined than you sorry lot ever were."

Glord pulled hard on his tin and swallowed a mouthful then said, "If I ever do anything bad enough to warrant being sent to the Cerberii, promise you'll kill me first."

"You have my word," Reddam replied with a smirk.

"Well this is morbid," Joffel quipped as he leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, "Let us change the subject. Anybody know where were heading next?"

Reddam sniffed, "Could be anywhere, we have the resources and weapons to make a real difference in the galaxy now. We can truly fight as the Emperor intended."

Kazao's helm leaned in as he revealed, "I heard Coluber has gone off on a secret envoy to the Duke's Keep. Really hush-hush stuff."

"Then how you'd hear about it?" Glord asked sceptically.

"I have my ways," Kazao replied cryptically.

Tebes however commented, "He heard it off two chattels fuelling the Thunderhawk Viper's Bite. They overheard the pilot's voxing their flight-plan to the flotilla in orbit."

Kazao threw up his hands and cried, "You spoiled my aura of mystery! I had a tale all worked up to dazzle you with my wit."

Tebes didn't seem abashed as he commented, "Self-aggrandisement and deception are beneath an Astartes."

Glord however chewed his lip and mused, "I wonder what Coluber is doing and what it means for us."

Reddam sighed, "No point speculating, we'll find out when we are told."

The others accepted this at face value but Glord was troubled. This was an unexpected complication and he didn't like the implications. The idea that there were things he didn't know irked him and he had the sneaking suspicion that this news heralded trouble.