Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 94
Space folded around before him, contorting and twisting to allow him passage. With as much effort as passing from one room to another Mathep boarded the usurper vessel, emerging somewhere within its fetid depths. With him came his Lychguard Tamunn, ever ready to defend his lord, not that he truly needed it anymore. Inotep stayed on the Tombship, the Vizier maintaining the traditional courtly advisor's place well behind the lines.
Mathep found himself stepping into a grim passageway, running up the length of the ship. Like all usurper's vessels it was unremarkable, falling well below the standards of the Necrons. The walls were inferior metal/ceramic alloys, brittle and perishable in nature. Primitive technologies were evident, bolted to the walls or running overhead through imperfectly sealed pipes and cables. Feral idols and fanes were spaced along the thoroughfare, some crude depictions of a skeleton in a golden chair alongside red wax blobs with parchment trailing from them. The air was laced with chemical spills and sewage molecules, his olfactory senses picking out such levels that even the primitives themselves must be able to smell the stench. Everything about this vessel seemed roughshod, temporary and provisional, liable to fall apart after only a few thousand years of use.
Mathep was no longer capable of feeling disgust but dissatisfaction rang through him, the understanding that his expectations had not been met. This seemed poor pickings for his armies. And yet there was one exception, for he recognised this breed's handiwork. The construction of the vessel matched one of the more common vermin races infesting the galaxy. He had achieved great success harvesting their colonies and convoys, bringing many millions of experimental subjects to his stasis-vaults. If the Bio-readings were accurate then these ships boasted the warrior-caste of that race, an order of genic-gets bred only for war.
Memory stirred as he remembered his last encounter with such a force. They had come at the head of an army, many ships and legions of troops at their back. Such a battle had they waged, a conflict that rang in his memories. He could not enjoy the rush of combat but it had certainly been engaging, thoroughly diverting and requiring his most advanced weapons be unleashed. That warranted a modicum of respect, in all his aeons only a rampaging Ork Waaagh has given him a more challenging fight. He still kept examples of all his conquests in his stasis-vaults, though his Cryptek had exhausted the supply of genic-gets with his experiments.
Abruptly Tamunn broke into his reverie saying, "Combat has begun."
Mathep realises his attention was straying and focused by saying, "Subdue resistance but remind our forces to take captives. This is a scouting raid, I want biological specimens and samples for later study."
"Yes Dread Lord," Tamunn replied, "Forces have engaged all over this ship and others, resistance is marginal."
The Phaeron turned and marched down the wide passageway, Chronostave held ready in case of surprises. Technically he could not die, his body boasted superior regenerative abilities to the common Necrons and in the unlikely event of his destruction distant neuro-wave receptors would retrieve his consciousness and download his mind to a new body. Still there was no point taking chances, every death and resurrection risked the loss of precious memories and personality engrams. Too many deaths and he could well become as mindless as the average Necron. A fate to be avoided at all costs.
As they walked he noted piles of offal steaming on the deck and his expectations of what lay ahead grew. Sure enough he soon spied a group of Flayed Ones lurking over fresh kills, bunched up in a junction as their talons dripped hot blood. Unlike Gauss weapons they did not disintegrate their victims but kept the bodies intact for skinning. Even as he looked on the Flayed Ones were peeling the skin off and pulling them over their forms like gory cloaks. Blood ran off ribs as they wrapped the tattered remains around shoulders and back-jointed legs, clawed hands tearing the flesh even as they pulled it about. One of them was even scooping up intestines and smearing them over its jaw, in a futile attempt to eat. It was utterly pointless and yet it persisted, unable to grasp that its mouth no longer opened.
Mathep was disgruntled with their feral behaviour, evidence that their minds had withered until only the urge to feed and feel the rush of blood endured. He moved forward to drive them away but before he could speak there was a savage roar of many voices and the sounds of charging feet. He twisted right and beheld a mob of primitives running towards him, weapons in hand and stupid anger writ over their snarling faces. They were taller than the usurpers laid out on the floor, broadly muscled and clad in ceramic armour of varying thickness. They waved swords and pistols and other weapons and made crude exhortations to their hollow god in an instinctive threat display. Mathep recognised these ones, the Genic-gets had come at last, seeking battle as their feral instincts demanded.
Tamunn interposed himself between his lord and the oncoming mob, using his great shield to bash away the first attacker and deflecting another blow with his axe. The rest piled in around him but Mathep was no helpless fop. The first knife that came at him was deflected by a broad sweep of his Chronostave, the next was knocked aside by an open-handed push and the third fell short as Mathep swept low and the sharp edges of his staff sliced the legs off the attacker.
More Genic-gets threw themselves at him but now the Flayed Ones finally responded. They left their grizzly trophies and rose to meet the attackers, drawn by the scent of living blood and the pounding of beating hearts. Claws met knives and bulky muscles were set against metal sinews as the two races joined battle. One side boasted proud colours and made roaring cries as they hacked and stabbed, the other wore dripping skins and fought in utter silence, terrifying in their quiet menace. The two races were well matched in strength and the Genic-gets had greater speed and dexterity but the Flayed Ones regenerated wounds with ease, only a direct killing strike forcing them to phase out and return to the crypts for repair.
Mathep gave the fight little notice for he was confronted by a pair of warrior-caste in thick orange armour. Like those who came in a previous epoch they were bulky and broad but unlike them these two carried snarling swords in their grips, fronted by spinning chainteeth. A detached part of the Phaeron's mind noted that the previous invaders had favoured dappled steel swords, skilfully folding metal upon itself to make a respectable blade. These were cruder but no less dangerous. Signs of some tribal distinctions among their primitive kind, he pondered, but that was a question for later.
"Ave Imperator!" They cried as they hurled themselves at him. They struck with all their speed but Mathep was no lowly warrior, his body was constructed to the finest tolerances and his velocity matched theirs. The first sword to come at him was knocked aside, the bearer following suit as a roundhouse blow sent it staggering. The other landed a blow on his shoulder, roaring chainteeth chewing away the bronze coverings over his Clavicles. It was a telling blow but Mathep barely swayed, his frame proof against such assaults and the wound sealing over in seconds as the living metal flowed together.
The brute froze in surprise and in that instant Mathep struck back. He actuated the entropy field around his Chronostave and plunged it into the chest of the savage. Finely tuned chronometric waves tore molecules apart, separating the bonds of matter with raw time. Riven by entropy the breastplate collapsed inward and the blades of his stave punched straight through the chest, ripping out both hearts. Mathep withdrew his blades and the brute collapsed, spilling blood from a gaping hole in its chest.
"No!" came a savage roar as the other swung for his back, trying to tear out his spine. It was a good blow but the primitive had made the mistake of aiming for his cloak. It must have thought the purple scales would offer no resistance but little did it know the material as was hard as the armour the usurpers clad their starships with and it proved utterly impregnable to such rude weapons. Chainteeth scattered far and wide as the weapon bounced off, not even scratching the imperishable material of his cloak. In return Mathep turned and almost lazily drove his metal digits into the barbarian's throat, slicing its larynx open with a sweep of his hand.
The brute fell to its knees, then collapsed forward with blood gushing down its front. Mathep left it to die unremarked, intending to engage the rest and end this fight, but suddenly a third savage emerged from nowhere. The first he knew was a howling roar of denial, then a snarling chainweapon crashed into his side. Not a sword this time but an axe, with a sharpened slice of metal on the reverse side.
Mathep retreated a step with a gaping wound cleaved into his side but the savage pursued. It moved fast, attacking over and over. All he could see were gaping turbines on the shoulders and a pair of orange pauldrons. The face was covered by an iron mask, engraved with serpentine icons making it look like one of Mathep's prized Ork specimens from his Stasis-vaults. The brute was relentless in its attack, smashing the axe into his chest again and again as it roared, "Stay Dead! Damn you stay dead!"
Mathep was offended by the simpleton's feral charge, the blows it inflicted an insult to the dignity of the Hyktot dynasty. It would not do for a noble Phaeron to be damaged by so rude a foe and Mathep was not willing to let it land another blow. As the next axe-swing fell his hand flashed upwards, catching the savage by the wrist stopping it dead in mid-air. Stillness fell as the pair stood locked together, then Mathep urged his living metal body to heal itself and the wounds slurped closed in a heartbeat. The brute's face purpled with strain as it tried to push down but Mathep held the arm firmly, not budging an inch. His strength proved superior and his patience was at an end.
Mathep lifted his Chronostave and swept the end for his foe's side, intending to slice him in two. The savage saw the blow coming and at the last instant reversed its push, desperately pulling away. The unexpected change meant the tip of the stave only caught a glancing blow, tearing deeply into ribs but missing the vital organs. Entropy ate the armour apart and blood ran in a torrent down its flank as the primitive roared in anger. Fired by fury the foe lurched forward, trying to head-butt the Phaeron but Mathep was done with this fight.
With contemptuous disdain he twisted and heaved hard, pulling the primitive's arm with irresistible strength. The brute was yanked off his feet and sent flying away, soaring head first over the raging melee until it hit a wall face first. The simpleton was bludgeoned insensate by the impact and slumped to the ground, momentarily helpless to rise again. Mathep knew this breed could not be stunned for long and hastily lowered his Chronostave, intending to unleash an entropic blast that would end the savage once and for all. The barbarian was already stirring; trying to rise and fight, but it was too slow and could not avoid a blast that would reduce it to atoms.
Mathep willed the stave to discharge but as he did so there was a cry and another threw itself at him. This one was smaller and lighter, armoured in half-plate and its head was covered by an all-encompassing helmet with a narrow T-slit for vision. It dove at him, snarling like a wild beast as it tried to sink a short knife into his spine. Mathep was surprised but not shocked, he did not feel such things and instantly pivoted, knocking the knife aside before it could touch him. His free hand knocked the primitive back and then he swung the tip of his stave across its head, shearing the helmet-free. What was revealed was surprising, most surprising.
Under the helmet was a face unlike the typical breed's. It was mottled like volcanic stone, cracked and raw where it was required to flex, the eyes were red and from the mouth hung elongated fangs, sticking out past the lower lip. Mathep has never seen this before in any species he had encountered and he was puzzled as to what this one was doing among the Genic-gets. Some form of subspecies, he wondered, a purpose-bred variant or a lower caste beast of burden. Either way it was worth investigating further.
The beast snarled as it readied the next blow, wanting to fight him but Mathep was faster. He threw a punch that staggered it and then sank a fist into its guts, cracking the ceramic armour and doubling it over. The beast wheezed as it collapsed to its knees but Mathep's metal grip locked around its throat and he heaved high, holding it aloft as it kicked futilely and clawed at his hand.
As it struggled impotently Mathep opened a subwave comm-line and called, "Ashtari, I have uncovered something new. A subspecies of the warrior-caste."
"I have encountered this too," The Cryptek sent from another ship, "Some divergent strain of genic-get. Dread Lord the possibilities are fascinating, I must have more!"
"Understood," Mathep replied then signalled, "All warriors of the Hyktot, these usurpers hide a new form of animal amongst them. Find them, capture them alive and bring them to me. Capture all the divergent animals!"
Mathep knew his orders would be obeyed by all his warriors and soon he would have his prize. Behind he detected the defeated primitive rising to its feet, intending to resume their duel but he had no need for such crude exchanges. To fight on would be prideful and vain and he no longer had such impulses, not when he already knew he was the superior combatant. So he signalled his ship to retrieve him and an instant later space folded around him and he vanished from the usurper's vessel with his captive in tow.