Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 131
Coluber was posing again, standing upon the corpse of an alien with the setting sun backlighting him. It was a stance taken straight out of a Holo-vid, the noble hero flying the flag of Imperial victory over a Xeno horror. Frankly Kerubim found it a tad pompous, the Chapter Master had won this war, why bother to crow about it when there was work to be done, he thought.
Kerubim sighed as he looked away, taking in the devastation. His Brothers had laid waste to this alien city, destroying all they found. He didn't mind their enthusiasm, he had faced enough aliens in his time to loathe them all on principle, nearly being killed a dozen times by Xenos would have that effect on anyone. Yet what he begrudged was the destruction of their architecture, the loss of knowledge and technology. Xenos or not, there was much to be learned here and he was determined to uncover at least some of their secrets.
Kerubim was young by Space Marine standards, a few decades old at most. His face and hands were only lightly scarred and the hair on his head was clipped short, lest his curls interfere with his helm. He bore a boxy rifle in one hand, with flared energy projectors at one end and a gas-compression knife at his belt. He wore power amour, a boast less than a third of the chapter could make but his was reddened in hue and bore marks of the Lingua Technis and the Cult Mechanicus. Kerubim was a tech-adept, a tinkerer and lay-preacher of the Omnissiah, an apprentice and student in the ways of the Machine. He was no true Techmarine, not yet, but his hearts burned with the craving for knowledge and he was set upon understanding all there was to know.
Kerubim knelt in the ruins of a building and picked up several pieces muttering, "Glass, formed from resin mixed with sand. Yet the tensile strength is remarkable, stronger than Plasteel. What's this in the material... etchings... circuitry... no. The aliens have laid in hollow pathways in the very structure of their buildings. Why though... It couldn't function as an abacus or water channel... air perhaps? Yes! That's it, the buildings channel air currents to create acoustic resonances. They sing, the whole city must sing in the wind!"
His excitement was lost upon his companion. Standing nearby was a hunchbacked form made of metal and gears. It was insectile in shape, with clawed feet and a bulky carapace that supported a low-hung head with bulbous eye lenses. Two multi-barrelled rotor cannons made up its arms and on top rested a meltagun, that constantly twitched as it sought out targets. Bane he called it, a Vorax hunter-killer robot, whose cybernetic brain he had grown himself.
Bane ignored his musings as it pawed the ground, looking for something to shoot. The robot had reaped a fearful tally in the battle, gunning down many aliens with merciless precision. Kerubim was pleased with the accuracy and efficiency of his companion, but he was growing concerned with how much independent action the construct had taken. Oft veering away from his side to chase down running Xenos, like a mastiff chasing a hare. Kerubim was beginning to wonder if he should scrub the robot's memory and reinstall its operating system. The Cult Mechanicus was prolific in its admonishments against allowing machines too much independence, even cybernetic brains must be tasked by a living operator. The danger of a synthetic mind growing into a true Silica Animus were too terrible to contemplate and he who created an Abominable Intelligence was deemed Heretek most foul. Mankind would not suffer the return of thinking machines, not after they'd tried to wipe humanity from the stars in an antediluvian age.
It was then he saw a shadow approaching and spied the form of Battle-Captain Ferrac looming nearer. The leader of Primus Cohort seemed annoyed, but then he was always irritated by something. Kerubim usually let it wash off him so called out, "Been busy?"
"There you are," Ferrac snapped, "What are you playing about at?"
Kerubim prodded a few shards of glass and remarked, "This is a unique material, so delicate yet so strong. I am trying to determine how they made it..."
He was interrupted by Ferrac stomping into the middle of the pile, crushing bits underfoot as he commented, "Not that strong."
Kerubim grimaced as he stood and snapped, "Do I interrupt your labours?!"
"It's a good job you saved my life once," Ferrac retorted, "Else I would beat the sense out of you for speaking to me thus. Why do you care anyway?"
Kerubim sniffed, "There is much to learn."
"It is Xenos!" Ferrac growled in condemnation.
"That doesn't matter," Kerubim countered, "Knowledge is knowledge, no matter where it comes from."
Ferrac shook his head and said, "A true Techpriest would flay you alive for expressing such sentiments. They hold using alien technology to be almost as bad as innovation itself."
"Then they better not come snooping around the Nest," Kerubim snorted, "The Amber Vipers are hardly picky about where we get our gear."
"True," Ferrac snorted, "But still there's work to be done. The city is secured, time to find what we came for."
"This supposed bunker, I'm not convinced it's real."
Ferrac grunted, "The Cerberii seemed certain. They lifted the plans out of the cogitator we took from Athelling. According to those charts there's a weapons cache secreted on this planet."
"Plans thousands of years out of date," Kerubim pointed out, "The bunker could have been exhausted, it could have been looted or collapsed or moved. Hell, time could have buried it so deep we would never find it."
"Still worth looking into," Ferrac rebuked, "Now stop arguing and go help Kregulf."
Ferrac stomped away and Kerubim sighed as he set off in the other direction, Bane tagging along behind. Shattered buildings came and went as he walked and the night drew in, cold and dark lit only by flames. As he walked through the ruins Kerubim reflected upon his task. The Amber Vipers were hardly reluctant to pick up whatever was to hand. They had got used to bartering, borrowing or stealing what they needed to fight on. Pragmatism was a way of life for them. Still there was pragmatism and then there was foolishness. Certain incidents had soured their attitude, certain weapons had proved so harrowing even they feared to use them. Thus the Cerberii had come to be.
After looting a derelict starship, the Apophis, they had found themselves in possession of a collection of weapons unlike any other. Volkite weapons of ranged and melee types, arcane shield generators, esoteric devices and a companies' worth of armours, sadly wholly incompatible with Astartes plate. Why even Kerubim's Adrathic rifle was a relic of marvellous worth, technology unseen for millennia. If the Adeptus Terra knew he held such a wonder heads would roll, and not all of them on Terra.
Unfortunately alongside these marvels were items that had no excuse for existing. Radioactive weapons, Battle-automata, toxic bombs and alchemic brews were only the start. There had been devices of unspeakable horror, brain-eating viruses, psionic warheads, reality-shredders and nano-robotic world killers, instruments not of a warrior but a sadistic torturer. Such weapons could change the galaxy, defeat any enemy, but to use them was to forfeit all honour. Too vile to deploy, too valuable to dump into a star, it had been quite the conundrum. Coluber's solution was to create the Cerberii, an order of disgraced warriors sworn to safeguard the weapons for all time. Their function was not to protect the weapons from the Chapter but to protect the Chapter from the weapons and only the direst threat to the Imperium Entire could stir them to unlock their charges.
On the periphery of the city Kerubim found them. A blackened Dropship, Doombringer, lurked with its cargo bay open and inviting. At the foot of the ramp stood two Cerberii with Fission-blasters in hand. Their armour was black, to better conceal the radiation burns upon their plate and the helms hanging at their belts bore the red hand of disgrace. Their faces were pale and threaded with black veins, signs their charges' malignancy was polluting their flesh. To one side stood Berio, dour and grim as always and to the other was Kregulf the Claviger, he who holds the keys. He looked bitter and scornful yet utterly serious and he was toying with the crystal knife he habitually wore at his belt.
Kerubim stepped forth with a confident air but was brought up short when he spied three more figures in the dropship. Taller than a Space Marine and broader, with powerful mechanical limbs and bulky weapons on their arms. Battle-automata, Cadmus robots lifted from the Apophis. Kerubim was stunned the Cerberii would bring them and his hackles rose, as well they should. Unlike Bane these robots were wholly mechanical, no organic brain-tissue resided within, they were pure artifice. Kerubim had seen within their chassis' and marvelled at the quantum-processors and neural architecture of their cogitators. Yet the lack of organic components, resting place of the soul, grated on his sensibilities and he was convinced there was more to these three than met the eye.
It seemed Bane agreed as the Vorax halted and trained its weapons on the Cadmus robots. In turn the larger platforms fixed their eye lenses upon the smaller construct, like Grox eyeing a yapping mastiff and Kerubim felt their ire building. Thankfully Kregulf stepped forward and called out, "There you are!"
Kerubim eyed the trio one last time then turned to the Cerberii and said, "I was busy elsewhere."
"Doesn't matter," Kregulf brushed off, "We need you to come with us."
"You've found it?!" Kerubim exclaimed.
"Right where the charts said it would be," Berio interjected, "I'll say this for the 'Hegemony', they kept damned accurate maps."
Kregulf stepped away from the dropship and led them to a nondescript building. Kerubim stepped into line but asked, "Why did you bring the robots?"
Kregulf sniffed, "There may be heavy lifting involved."
"So bring chattels and servitors," Kerubim retorted, "You're supposed to be keeping things like that under lock and key."
"I know my oaths better than you. There may be dangers ahead, defences set against intrusion. I need firepower in case we have to batter our way inside. Why does it matter?"
"I'm not sure," Kerubim sighed, "Just a gut feeling."
As they approached the burned-out building Kerubim saw a pit within, lurking under the shattered roof. It was deep and circular but on one side lurked an archway of Plasteel, human-made not alien. Kerubim jumped within and examined it saying, "Still intact after all this time. Look like the aliens built right over it."
Berio commented, "There's Xeno scratchings on the walls outside. Just a guess but I reckon it says 'Better keep out, unless you're stupid enough to have your face blown off'."
"Then call us stupid," Kerubim muttered as he took an auspex from his belt and waved it at the tunnel beyond the arch. No energy spikes returned and he declared, "Seems clear."
"Weapons hot," Kregulf ordered, "Be ready for anything."
Kerubim's rad-counter began to click as the Fission-blasters warmed up, ticking slowly in comparison to the fallout they would unleash if fired. He shuddered at the thought as he moved on, proceeding down the tunnel. The way was long but straight and it descended downwards at a steady clip. For two kilometers they marched, by Kerubim's count, and he saw many strange things. There were the remains of forcefield projectors, weapons and defensive emplacements. All cold and inert. Human metals did not oxidize, they did not rust, but they were not immune to wear and tear. It looked like millennia of exposure to the moist air had saturated them with debris and worn down their components. Nothing was immune to time's ravages.
"Dark matter lances, matter-slicers, molecular eviscerators, dimensional sieves," Kerubim marvelled.
"Any still working?" Kregulf probed.
"If they were, we'd be dead already," Kerubim retorted.
"That's still working," Berio stated.
Ahead was a soft glow and they emerged into the end of the tunnel to find a broad door. It was pure Adamantium, shining and perfect behind the glimmering of a stasis field. Here alone time was held at bay and Kerubim was amazed it was still operating. Bane lowered its head to sniff at the ground but a barked command sent it scurrying. Kerubim was sure interfering in this field would trigger a defence response. Nobody wanted that.
"How come this is still operating when everything else is dead?" Berio pondered.
"I hypothesise whatever they used for a power source depleted over time. The outer defences were stripped and left to rot, to conserve energy for this barrier."
"Can you open it?" Kregulf probed.
"That's what we're here to find out," Kerubim replied as he bent over his auspex and set to work.