Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 145
The first they knew of the battle starting was the sudden jerk of the Manta launching. A loud rumble blew through the hold and jarring sensations threw everybody against their restraints as the craft hit void. Locked within his Crisis Suit Alohvar knew they had been detected and battle would soon be upon them. Hurriedly he tested his suit's readiness, for the hundredth time, and found its limbs responding to his thoughts as if they were his own. Sensors, weapons and jet pack, all were available to the foetal ball curled in the heart of the war machine, steered instantly by his neural shunt.
His crisis suit was locked into place by ceramic clamps, keeping it steady as the Manta dove for the planet. Alongside him the other crisis suits waited, along with the Broadsides and the Skyray. The Manta was big enough to hold them all, along with the Vespid and Ethereal Aun'La Jer'ema. The other teams were deployed onto Orca Dropships, following in their wake as a second wave but Alohvar would be the tip of the spear.
Alohvar's sensor head turned to regard the Ethereal. His presence was against Alohvar's recommendation, he'd rather the boy stay on the ship and leave the expedition to the Fire Warriors, but none could gainsay an Ethereal. It had been Jer'ema who had identified this planet as an ancient bastion of human might, a lost trove of technology and science beyond the Imperium's current capability. It was well known that the Imperials were in a state of technological stagnation and decay, but how Jer'ema could be so certain of what this planet represented was a mystery. Yet the Ethereal had proclaimed this world would be claimed for the Empire and so the Gue'ron'sha must be swept aside. They hadn't crossed the warp only to turn back at the first hurdle.
That thought made Alohvar link his crisis suit to the external sensors. A vista of space opened before him, the grey sweep of the planet below, growing steadily as the Manta dropped towards it. Behind their vessel was advancing on the hostile's orbital base. It had been a shock to find Gue'ron'sha had already arrived but long-range probes had revealed their base was in a serious state of disrepair. Sneaking closer had been elementary and they had almost been inside weapon's range before the feeble sensors of the foe finally detected them.
Even as he watched the Tau ship advanced, railgun batteries letting rip. Flashing lights on the hull signalled magnetic accelerators propelling slugs to near luminal velocities and seconds later sparkles on the target revealed direct hits had been scored. The orbital was sitting on a plume of fire, trying to reach a higher orbit, and it seemed incapable of returning fire at this range. Another salvo rippled forth and this time the shields collapsed. Alohvar twitched in his foetal position as slugs slammed into the ramshackle ruin, punching straight through the mass of it and out the other side. A half-dozen holes were drilled straight through the orbital, leaving openings a Barracuda fighter could fly through and Alohvar's heart soared. Kor'vre C'edra had been ordered to drive the Imperials back and allow a landing in force, but it looked like he could win this battle single-handed. The derelict orbital was helpless to resist and would be carved apart by successive salvos.
Yet his elation was short-lived. From an outer docking pier a doughty vessel sallied forth, accompanied by five smaller escorts. The Tau redirected railgun fire to these newcomers but their shields were in far better state and deflected all incoming fire with ease. His heart leapt into his mouth as the new force heaved to; presenting their flanks as gunports rolled open preparing to unleash a broadside. The Tau vessel's greater weight of fire lay in her prow and she came to bear as the bow glowed from her Ion cannons powering up.
Suddenly a wave of fire blanked out his vision as the Manta hit the atmosphere. The furnace of re-entry washed over them, cutting off all communications and sensors. For the moment they were deaf and blind making Alohvar curse under his breath, "Wretched turbulence."
The Manta heaved and bucked as it decelerated and Spiy'tus called out, "I wanted to see how that turned out."
Teq'ila agreed, "C'edra is outnumbered and outgunned."
Alohvar shook off his dismay and reassured them, "Kor'vre C'edra is a veteran of the void, wily and cunning as any Fire Warrior. He will fight through and break clear. He has fulfilled his mission and got us to the atmosphere; he will withdraw in good order and keep out of danger."
Teq'ila muttered, "He better, that ship is our only way home."
The turbulence began to subside as the Manta plunged into the thickening atmosphere and its engines shifted to aerial flight mode. The immense craft descended steadily and Alohvar beheld a sprawling metropolis laid out across the landscape. It seemed drab and ugly, as all human construction was to his eye, but the bounty of technology and science was obvious at a glance. Ancient the city may be, but the secrets within could advance the Tau race to new heights of power. If they could but claim it for T'au then his race would gain such might as to sweep aside the D'eth Gurd, Orks and Tyrannids, plus proving the worth of the Slipstream Drive to all doubters.
Alohvar disconnected from the sensors and his vision shrank to the hold itself. He disengaged the clamps and stomped to the aft ramp, his crisis suit responding smoothly to his directives as if it was his own body. He commanded, "Crisis teams and Vespid strains, prepare for drop insertion. Remember the Gue'ron'sha have had time to dig in but we will burn them out. Our objective is to clear a landing zone for our Fire Warrior teams and heavy equipment to set down. Hit them hard and fast and leave none alive."
It was a bold speech but from between two secured tidewall bastions there was a short cough and Jer'ema interjected, "I trust you do not intend widespread destruction, there will be little to learn from ruins."
Alohvar twitched in annoyance of the Ethereal's interruption and replied, "A cautious approach will not avail us this day. The Gue'ron'sha are ferocious combatants, to hesitate in the opening moments will hand them victory. Commander Puretide himself was known to say a strike must be driven home with full force, or not attempted at all."
Jer'ema's face hardened as he hissed, "Are you arguing with me?"
Alohvar knew he should be dismayed at the very notion but found the Ethereal's attitude aggravating. Bruskly he said, "I serve the Greater Good as best I may. The Aun' determine our strategic objectives but it falls to the Shas' to manage tactical engagements. This is the basis of our Empire."
"But immediate tactical needs can often blind one to the wider concerns," Jer'ema countered, "Perhaps I should come with you."
The last thing Alohvar wanted was a callow boy wandering around his battlefield, but could hardly say that out loud. Instead he carefully said, "Honoured Ethereal, the first wave is important but not nearly so much as the follow-through. Our initial forces will be swiftly overwhelmed, should the second wave not disembark swiftly and confidently. The danger of a tardy and disorganised assembly cannot be understated. Surely the Fire Warrior Teams will work better knowing your presence guides their efforts."
To his surprise Jer'ema nodded and allowed, "Wise words, I should be with the majority of our force, where they can see me. You may carry on Shas'El."
Vain idiot, Alohvar found himself thinking, but suppressed the unworthy thought as the rear ramp ground down. The Manta was over the city now, flashing over districts and factory hubs. A countdown began blinking in his vision as the time to jump closed and he uttered, "Everybody ready?"
"Ready," Bruch'ich uttered.
"On your word," Spiy'tus added.
"Let's show the Gue'ron'sha who they are dealing with!" Teq'ila proclaimed.
"Eager, fervent, willing," Ki'kiki stated, "The killing shall be swift!"
The countdown reached zero and Alohvar stepped forward shouting, "For T'au!" Gravity snatched him and he fell from the Manta, tumbling head over heels. He felt the strange weightlessness of freefall and his sensor simulated the ferocious wind passing over his form. A micro-burst from his jet pack righted his fall and he plummeted for the ground, feet first and mechanical toes spread for impact. The Crisis team followed suit, dropping towards the city as the Vespid followed, heads down and wings tucked in tight as they gripped their neutron blasters firmly.
The city swelled in his vision, hurtling towards them and his sensors picked out motion below, teams of Gue'ron'sha scrambling to regroup in the face of this unexpected assault. Alohvar had already picked out his landing site when a flurry of missiles dove past, launched from the Manta to soften up the ground defences. Alohvar expected fiery blooms to erupt but to his surprise the warheads popped into bursts of light and noise just above the ground. Stunner warheads, designed to confuse and disorientate, useful against most foes but futile against Gue'ron'sha. It seemed despite his warnings Jer'ema was interfering again.
There was no time to react for impact was seconds away. The Vespid's wings snapped open and they disappeared overhead, blurring membranes braking their descent. A heartbeat later Alohvar's jet pack fired and his bones creaked as the suit decelerated. Flaming contrails shooting down past his feet as he braced for impact. The Crisis Suit slowed its fall but it still seemed far too fast and instinct cried he was going to crash. Yet experience told him all was well, the tolerances of a XV8 Crisis suit surpassed flesh and bone and when his claws hit the ground his mechanical legs flexed, absorbing a shock that should have shattered bones.
Swiftly he righted himself in a crater of cracked Ferrocrete and called out, "Hurry, spread out and…" His orders were cut off as a flurry of mass-reactive bolts hammered into his armour. His head spun about and he saw a group of humans driving for his position, bolt rifles flaring. They rode bikes with broad tyres and with twin bolters coupled to the front and they wore a lighter form of scout armour that was orange in hue. At their fore rode a bawling warrior with a glowing energy whip in hand, that he swung overhead as he closed.
Alohvar was outnumbered and outgunned but he was not outfought. Instantly his arm came up and his Tri-cyclic Ion Blaster let rip. Flurries of glowing energy bolts punched into their formation, chewing the air apart with ionised blasts. The Gue'ron'sha reacted with blinding speed, jinxing and weaving to avoid being hit in the wide street. Their reflexes were incredible, far beyond normal human tolerances, but Alohvar's aim was guided by the targeting module on his shoulder and his flurry of bolts hit one dead in the chest, blowing his guts over the road and sending his bike tumbling.
One was down but the other four were closing fast. The sight of their feral anger struck Alohvar cold and for a second he flashed back to the wars of the Nem'yar Atoll. Massed ranks of Gue'ron'sha looming over the horizon, marching into the face of death without fear or hesitation. They wore terror like a shroud, using their bulk and ferocity to intimidate the foe before a single shot was ever fired. Alohvar knew all too well the merciless nature and fanatical hatred of this foe and he knew they would not cease their attacks until he was dead, until his entire race was dead. The foe was upon him and they thirsted for his blood, yet he was no longer alone.
Flaring contrails signalled his Crisis team landing in encircling positions, plasma rifles blazing. Searing energy blasts inundated the enemy squad and reduced flesh and metal to slag. Bodies were sundered, engines melted and armour torn apart as three more enemies were culled with ease. To Alohvar's surprise one made it through the onslaught. Driving headlong through the carnage the leader swung his energy lash in a killing strike. It was a good blow, sure and swift, heading for the centre mass of Alohvar's crisis suit. Energy readings flared and the Shas'El knew that lash would carve through his nanocrystalline armour like it was tissue paper. Death loomed but Alohvar was no longer there to greet it. A burst from his jet pack sent him high and backwards, causing the lash to pass under his feet without making contact.
The Gue'ron'sha looked up in shock as he swung his bike about and cried, "Get back here and fight with honour you coward!"
"You have no idea what true honour is," was Alohvar's only response as he lifted his Tri-cyclic Ion blaster and shot the human in the face.
A blazing energy blast ripped the head clean off, leaving the body with a charred stump for a neck. Slowly the body toppled over and slammed into the ground as Alohvar curved over and landed firmly on the ground. He spun about looking for more foes but found the street clear. Yet Vespid strains were fluttering over nearby streets, lancing neutron blasts down at foes lurking out of sight. Bolt rounds and red beams shot up in return, cutting jinking Vespid from the sky and it was obvious the fight was far from over.
Spiy'tus kicked a scorched body with a mechanical toe and muttered, "Orange hues to their armour, that's new."
Teq'ila added, "White, black, blue, green, it matters not. They all die the same."
Bruch'ich however countered, "It matters. Gue'ron'sha fight as variedly as their armours. These ones are unknown to us, they may have surprises in store."
Alohvar however barked, "We can worry about it later. This fight is not done yet. Follow me; we have to clear a landing zone for the second wave!" With that he triggered his jet pack and leapt into the sky, clearing a nearby building to reach the next street. Ion blasts and plasma rained down as the Tau warriors went to war, bringing the superior firepower of the Empire to bear. Alohvar did not know who these Gue'ron'sha were but they would soon learn to fear the shadow of his passing. It was certain that the enemy would not relent until one side or the other were dead so neither would he. For T'au, for all his race, he would break this foe and claim this planet for the Greater Good.