Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 98

The Serpens Rex was quiet and still, undisturbed for millennia she sat amid a court of derelict hulks like a queen of ashes. The smashed wreckage of the outer piers was untroubled by busy dock workers and her reactors ticked over on mindless repetition, aching for the blessing of an Enginseer. The Forges were cold, the Apothecarions empty and the defence towers unmanned. Here and there pockets of air lurked, trapped in the few intact compartments, but largely the nest of the original Amber Vipers was an empty ruin.

Yet in the single tower left standing at her centre there was movement. Teams of Astartes and Chattels penetrating the darkness with stablights, vac-suits on and power armour sealed. Currently Coluber was facing a pair of heavy doors, sealed and locked against entry. Around that hatch Nathanal directed Enginseers to attach power cables and crypto-savants to beseech the doors to open. With them was a line of Servitors, carrying everything they would need to awaken the Machine Spirits and bring the cogitators online. Behind him Ferrac lurked with Anaxar Squad, while the Brother-Exemplars stood ready for trouble. They had inserted via the Thunderhawk Viper's Bite a few levels down and then made their way to the primary bridge. Shrios has taken Poisoned Fang and steered for the Main Apothecarion, seeking the Gene-seed vaults and the priceless treasure within. Other squads of Primus, Secundus and Tertius were scouting the outer quadrants. A sizeable force to recon the base but this Starfort was truly gigantic and much of it was inaccessible, properly scouting its secrets could take months, years even.

Impatiently Ferrac muttered over the vox, "How long is this going to take?"

Coluber replied calmly, "It will take as long as it takes."

Ferrac's hand brushed a melta bomb on his hip as he said, "I could just…"

Coluber's helm turned as he inquired, "Are you proposing to blow the doors off my new bridge?"

Ferrac snorted, "It would be quicker."

Coluber sighed, "Unto all things there is a given season. The moment something arrives, that is the proper time."

Ferrac sniffed dismissively, "Another line from your book?"

"The teachings of Maru Kysoto hold profound wisdom, we could learn much from him."

Ferrac snorted, "He's dead, we're alive. Let's focus on staying that way."

Suddenly there was a great clunk from the doors and the slabs of metal drew back an inch, retracting on runnels into the wall. A splurt of air poured out from the narrow gap and Nathanal shouted, "Pressure! There's pressure in there. Quickly erect an air seal, hurry up before we lose the atmosphere entirely!"

Hurried the Enginseers set up an oxygen tent, a makeshift airlock to keep the air breathable within. Coluber stepped back to let them work and in a few minutes they had a seal fixed and the doors opened wide to allow entrance. One by one the Astartes cycled through the simple airlock and Coluber let his Exemplars go first while Anaxar squad stayed behind to stand guard. Finally it was his turn, he patiently waited as the airlock cycled then he stepped into the bridge itself.

Coluber's first impression was of space, distant walls rising to an arched roof that ran away into the distance. The walls and ceiling were painted in stylised murals of noble Astartes bringing the Emperor's fury to writhing beasts and monstrous fiends with comically exaggerated evil leers. Along the edges rose-red columns, engraved with golden icons of snakes and winding serpents, they rose to the roof like a forest and between them hung ancient banners, etched with Oaths of loyalty to Terra. Before him stretched a raised walkway, lacquered to a perfect mirror sheen so it danced like water in the faint illumination of the stablights. On either side were sunken pits filled with consoles and Cogitators, fifty deep and lining the route all the way to the far end. Dead bodies were piled up around those devices, mortal servants and decayed servitors, laid out wherever they fell. In the dry air they had mummified, turning into withered husks that were once people. Had they suffocated or frozen to death, Coluber didn't know and wasn't interested in finding out.

His eyes fixed on the far end of the bridge and he spied an elevated podium, rising over the work-pits like a feral-world king sitting over his courtroom. It was oddly beautiful for an Imperial design, the steps leading up to it crafted from flawless marble and lined by graceful Nalwood railings. The podium was bracketed by encircling balustrades of red stone, delicately carved with winding serpents and mythical dragons. A statue stood at the rear of the stage, of the Emperor in regal robes. Oddly he was not presented in His warrior aspect, lacking armour or His flaming sword. Instead He seemed a teacher and moral philosopher, clad in soft robes and with one hand outstretched as if educating the ignorant masses or expounding a philosophical metaphor.

"Impressive," Coluber declared truthfully.

"Gaudy," Ferrac argued, "True warriors don't need this finery."

Brother-Exemplar Seyda commented, "These mortals didn't die fighting. No visible wounds, no sign of Gauss weaponry."

Vardat added, "It's like they just lay down to die."

"A mystery for later," Coluber stated, "Nathanal?"

The mortal was directing Enginseers to erect heat-poles along the length of the walkway and a man bearing a silver hammer was ritually banging an oxy-recyc unit as he intoned the chant of awakening. After a moment it spluttered into life, the Machine Spirit drawing in stale air through a rubber hose and brass gargoyles squatting on its top vomiting up blessed oxygen. Nathanal consulted a hand-held Auspex and declared, "Pressure's holding, temperature rising, oxygen levels tolerable. Good enough for short-sleeves work. Very well, we can take our helmets off now."

Everybody reached up and removed helms and Coluber breathed air that hadn't been disturbed for millennia. It smelled like a cold tomb, dry and desiccated and filled with old rot that had long since lapsed into dust. He sniffed once then ordered, "Set up a plasma generator, strip out the dead servitors and plug in fresh ones. Get the Cogitators awoken and make an assessment of the Starfort's condition."

"I know what to do," Nathanal retorted as he directed Enginseers to unload the heavy burdens servitors were still bringing through the airlock.

"Walk with me," Coluber ordered his Brothers as he set off towards the raised podium. He held his head high as he strode, picturing himself as lord of this place. A base filled with life and industry and a thousand Amber Vipers,all waiting upon his word. It was a heady image and he knew this was what his Chapter lacked. Not only material strength and martial power but pride, dignity and honour. A symbol of the noble ideals all Astartes should aspire to. The fact that the Necrons could come back and wipe them out at any moment, he chose not to dwell upon.

He mounted the marble steps and rose to the top, and found it was ringing by controls and pict-screens. Doubtless to display sub-sets of Tactical data from the dormant Hololith or in-depth reports. He looked out over the bridge and proclaimed, "From this position Chapter Master Tsumetai steered his Chapter. Imagine the battles he waged, the glories he won. This shall be a worthy new home."

"Only if Nathanal can get it to wake up," Ferrac scoffed

Seyda asked, "You doubt it can be done?"

"No," Ferrac muttered, "But I would rather have some working guns on this nest."

Vardat darkly muttered, "I doubt that will make any difference should the Necrons come back."

Suddenly there was a great cry from the Chattels labouring below and the sound of cogitators whirring arose. Consoles flickered into fitful life as Motive Force flowed through the systems and the lumen orbs glowed high above, casting a rich warm light. The consoles lining the command platform stirred and Coluber turned his attention to them. The controls were a standard STC format and Coluber accessed the awakening Machine Spirits, inputting a search for the former Chapter Master's logs.

The cogitators were drowsy and confused, their systems damaged by millennia of slumber. The good news was the security djinns and data-wards were in tatters, allowing him access without needing command codes. The bad news was the Machine Spirit brought up pict-records instead of logs. Coluber's brow raised as the pict-screen displayed a vid-log of an Astartes in training. He was tall and bald, his head oiled so it glistened in the grainy recording. His armour was magnificent, a plate of superior artificer make, the same hue Coluber had come to associate with the original Amber Vipers.

The most notable thing about him however was he fought bare-handed, duelling two Brothers who wielded dappled steel swords. His movements were oddly fluid, combat moves flowing into each other so there was no start or end to them. He danced through the duel, elegantly disarming his Brothers and leaving them prone on the ground, without taking a scratch himself.

"Chapter Master Tsumetai," Coluber guessed, "Of the Hollow Fist."

"Impressive style," Seyda observed, "I've never seen an Astartes move so swift or sure."

But Ferrac snorted, "Pah, no match for a good Axe-rake. Put me in a fighting arena with him and I'd take him apart."

It was a proud boast but Coluber corrected, "Ferrac, this recording is slowed fivefold for our benefit. Let's watch it in real time…"

A press of a rune replayed the recording at true speed and this time Tsumetai blurred, his fists and feet flying at such speeds the pict-screen couldn't keep up. In seconds he disarmed his foes with a display of skill that would have left an Eldar gasping in shock. It was a staggering performance but was sadly interrupted as Ferrac's fist went through the screen and shattered it to pieces. Everybody looked at the Battle-Captain but all he muttered was, "Wasn't that good," as he stormed off.

Vardat coughed under his breath, "I think he's jealous."

"Do not mock the Battle-Captain," Coluber admonished, "Be silent as I examine these records."

Coluber returned to the task and after a few false starts managed to bring up recent logs. It made for grim reading, harrowing reports of death and destruction. The final saga of the Amber Vipers and the Ghost Crusade playing out before his eyes. He committed everything to memory and considered the implications as he tried to understand what had happened. Minutes crawled by as he pondered the matter then finally he turned and descended the stairs.

He made his way back to the Chattels and Ferrac who growled, "Find anything?"

Coluber replied, "A tale of sorrow. The Ghost Crusade came here the same way we did: via Warp-gate. They found the Dyson Sphere and moved to investigate but as they did so the Necrons attacked. It was an exact replay of the attack on us, they shut down the fleets and boarded during the subsequent confusion. Again they took captives in small numbers and left, not bothering to finish off the survivors. Then they came again and again, the same each time. The Ghost Crusade couldn't stop them."

Ferrac sniffed, "Same tactics over and over, these Necrons aren't very imaginative."

Coluber sighed, "It gets worse, the tech-priests figured out some way to counter the energy drain and that's when the Necrons got serious. They attacked in force, slicing ships to bits then withdrawing out of range. One ship at a time they were taking the fleet part. Warmaster Drake sent squadrons back to the warp-gates, to carry word to the Imperium of the threat, but they were all blown to bits before they got clear. Unable to stand or retreat Tsumetai called for an all-out attack, invading the Dyson Sphere with every last man, tank and gun. He emptied the relic vaults, the armouries, even the neophyte barracks and committed the entire Chapter to one assault. The void battle raged as the armies landed, sky and ground aflame with warfare. The logs cease after that but the last record was a message from the surface to enact the Exterminatus… I don't know if they succeeded or not."

"I think we know they didn't," Ferrac spat, "The question is how do we avoid the same fate?"

"Good point," Coluber concurred, "Nathanal?"

The mortal crossed his arms and said, "Do you want the good news, the bad or the weird?"

Glares returned and Coluber snapped, "Out with it."

Nathanal sighed, "Good news first: despite widespread damage the superstructure is hale, her Adamantium bones are intact. The reactors are cold but operational and I have a working plasma drive, warp drives, even a Gellar Field. They were buried deep in the base and survived. The bad news is getting all this working is going to take everything we've got in the Factorum-ships and more. Even if I scour the derelicts for parts its still going to use up every last ship-part and every drop of reactor fuel. If you want this place to move it's going to take everything we've accumulated since we started."

"Guns?" Ferrac inquired.

Nathanal sadly replied, "Not a chance, the guns are wrecked and ninety-five percent of this place is sealed off by rubble and internal collapse. I can't get to the guns, let alone fix them. The armouries are buried in debris and the Forges smashed to kindling. This nest couldn't fight off a garbage scow."

"Guns were never going to avail us against Necrons in space," Coluber affirmed, "What was the weird news?"

Nathanal sniffed, "There's an unaccountable energy draw somewhere deep inside this nest. I can't override and shut it off. No idea why its there or what it's doing."

"I'll send a snakelet-scout team to investigate," Coluber conceded, "In the meantime start your repairs, I want this place operational as soon as possible."

The mortal scurried away but Ferrac leaned in to say, "Even if we get this nest moving how does that help us against the Necrons? An entire Crusade couldn't fight them off, what are we to do?"

Coluber whispered, "We do what we always do: survive, adapt and then find a way to kill whatever's in our way. First we secure the Serpens Rex, then we'll make a plan. In the meantime we must trust that Reddam will come back with some way to hurt the Necrons. All I need is one weak spot, one vulnerable place to punch. Everything depends on what is going on inside the Dyson Sphere."