Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 149

"The sensor unit is totally smashed, it will have to go," came the grim pronouncement.

"Surely that is not necessary," Alohvar protested.

"It will be faster to replace the unit entirely than try to fix it," a stern Fio'Vre uttered.

"Very well, do what you must," Alohvar sighed.

He turned from the Earth Caste workers to take in his Crisis Suit. The towering war machine stood proud, flushed with victory but sorely wounded. The nanocrystalline armour was scored and battered, the left arm jammed solid where a crude pick had been rammed into the shoulder and the sensor head was a tangled ruin. That more than anything grieved Alohvar, the loss of sensory input leaving him almost blind in the middle of the fight. He had been forced to peer out the vision slit od his cockpit to lurch back to the landing ground, the awful feedback of using his real eyes and controlling his suit via neural shunt giving him a blinding headache.

Still they had been fortunate. The Cadre's landing had been sorely contested from the outset, a counter-attack by the Gue'ron'sha driving hard into their perimeter. The Vespid strains had taken heavy casualties and been driven away in tatters, forcing the Commander to intervene personally. The following fight had been as fierce as one would expect from the Imperial's vaunted Space Marines and the outcome had been far closer than Alohvar would care to admit. He was worried that had the fight endured much longer then the Tau would have been overrun. Thankfully the second wave had arrived in the nick of time and the Gue'ron'sha had withdrawn in the face of destruction. Though they would be back, they always came back.

Alohvar looked upon his suit and placed a comforting hand upon its thigh. The connection between warrior and machine was strong, an unspoken bond that all Shas'Vre and above felt. To see his suit being worked over by doughty Earth Caste labourers was harrowing and he swore it would not be needed again. It was then that he realised he was drawing glances from the Fio'Ui and Fio'Vre and hastily lowered his hand. He turned and walked away, pretending not to hear the workers trading jokes about Fire Warrior's habit of investing their machines with emotional significance.

Alohvar marched away, feeling weary to his bones. His first true fight since his wounding had drained him more than he liked to admit and the prosthetics built into his face ached in a way that should be impossible. He yearned to rest but knew it wasn't going to happen. The conflict had barely begun and would surely escalate. He had fought enough wars to know this was only the beginning.

He looked over the rudimentary basecamp and saw troops and equipment being unloaded from the Manta and the Orca dropships. The Fire Caste did not favour permanent bases, preferring a mobile style of war, but no force could operate without some logistical support. He saw thermo-power generators and command posts being unloaded, barrack facilities and a Cadre headquarters. They were rolled out and set up in minutes, automated mechanisms unfurling the structures as smoothly as a rolled-up tent. Meanwhile Tidewall barriers floated past on anti-grav cushions, moving to create a perimeter around the landing ground. It was a model of efficiency and he knew this base would be fully operational in no time at all.

He noted the Vespid off to one side and stepped nearer to investigate. The insectile creatures were floating up and down randomly, facing each other in wide circles as their wings made the air thrum with high-pitched whines. They seemed to be engaged in a form of competitive behaviour but not one he recognised. He craned his neck back and looked for the Strain leader. Ki'kiki was among the crowd but his helmed head turned slightly to take in Alohvar and he drifted down to talk.

"What are you doing?" Alohvar asked.

"Redressed, regroup, reorganise," the Vespid's communion helm uttered, "Many fell in battle, new leaders must be chosen."

"By… seeing who can bob highest?" Alohvar guessed.

"Ritual, tradition, custom," Ki'kiki answered, "The way of the Stingwings."

Alohvar had no good answer to that so said lamely, "Carry on."

He left them to it and went to find his Crisis pilots. Sure enough Spiy'tus, Teq'ila and Bruch'ich were tending to their suits, fixing up minor damage and tuning fine mechanisms to their personal tastes. They were the picture of Fire Warriors with a unity of purpose filling them, though Teq'ila was lamenting over a long gash in his flank armour.

"Look at this, that will never come out!" he moaned.

"Be thankful you only caught a glancing blow, any deeper and it would have penetrated your cockpit and killed you," Bruch'ich chided.

"Doesn't make any difference," Teq'ila spat, "I'm going to find whoever did this and blow them to atoms."

Alohvar walked up and asked, "How did that happen?"

Teq'ila glanced over his shoulder and replied, "One of the Gue'ron'sha with those long staves caught me. Damn brute danced around my defence and tried to slice me open. Never seen one move like that."

Bruch'ich added, "It's true, these orange-hued warriors did not fight as D'eth Gurd do. They are not the sort to trade blows until one fighter falls over. There was speed, guile and cunning to their moves, they fight as we do."

"Don't compare us to them," Alohvar hissed, "We fight for a better future for all, the Imperium fights for a corpse in stasis."

"Doesn't make them any less dangerous," Spiy'tus commented, "Look at what happened to Hamer."

That brought winces from all. The leader of the Gue'vesa auxiliaries had been caught up in a minor skirmish as the Tau secured their base. High-flying drones had witnessed him being dragged away alive, to face torture and execution no doubt. Alohvar held no regard for human lives, but he would not wish such a fate on his worst enemy. Killing him was the least of what they would do and it was certain they would never see Hamer again.

Alohvar sighed, "I can only wish his passing is swift and painless. The real question is, what did he tell the Gue'ron'sha?"

Bruch'ich blinked, "You think they broke him?"

Alohvar scoffed, "These are Imperials, they have no qualms about torturing their own kind. We've all seen what the D'eth Gurd do to prisoners, nobody could resist that. Anybody who thinks they can resist torture has not seen it with their own eyes. Now we must determine what we…"

He trailed off as he saw the other's eyes glaze and their stance become passive. The looks on their faces was a befuddled haze of compliance and his prosthetics began to itch furiously. He knew what that meant and glanced over his shoulder, seeing exactly who he expected to see. Ethereal Aun'la Jer'ema, striding through the camp with his head held high and the twin staves crossed over his chest. The young Ethereal left a trail of dazed faces in his wake, all Tau staring after him like he was the ghost of Commander Puretide himself. Even the Gue'vesa and the Vespid gave their respects, acknowledging the supremacy of the Ethereals.

Alohvar knew he should be in awe too, but all he felt was annoyance. Still he masked his irritation as he called, "Honoured Ethereal, how may we be of service?"

Jer'ema looked the Crisis Suits up and down and remarked, "I see damage was taken."

Alohvar replied, "As expected the enemy fought back furiously. Blood was spilt and casualties taken to secure the landing zone."

"Casualty rates were higher than expected," Jer'ema stated disapprovingly, "Perhaps there were flaws in the strategy employed."

That was a rebuke if ever Alohvar had heard one and he retorted, "With respect… these are not Orks or Gue'la. We faced the Gue'ron'sha, the best of the Imperium's armies. They are superior foes in all respects; never make the mistake of underestimating them. Victory against them carries so high a price that it is hard to distinguish from defeat."

Jer'ema didn't sound interested in the reply as he said, "While you were trading shots in the dust I have been investigating this city complex."

"Tell us what discoveries you have learned!" Spiy'tus exclaimed sounding like a Shas'la eager to get his hands on his first pulse rifle.

Jer'ema accepted the reverence as his due and explained, "As we suspected this metropolis is an ancient hub of arms production. It is far older than the Imperium, dating back to an earlier epoch. It is known to the Ethereal council that the Gue'la merely ape older and better designs. This is a source of such technology; it is highly developed and automated to a degree we have never seen Imperials employ. The wealth of knowledge awaiting us is far beyond the Imperial's current level of sophistication and will advance the Greater Good, if we can but claim it."

Alohvar sensed a problem and asked, "We face difficulties?"

Jer'ema's mask of pride slipped as he admitted, "Our finest Fio'Els have attempted to access the native info-nets but they have been rebuffed. An advanced operating system denies their probes and throws back all attempt to mine the data-cores. We suspect a Machine Intelligence is involved, one far more potent than our greatest creations, a true artificial consciousness."

"Gue'la do not boast such technology, they are fearful and superstitious of their own inventions," Alohavr pointed out.

"They weren't always," Jer'ema replied, "It seems the only way to claim this world is to physically dominate it. We must drive the enemy out and secure the entire facility. I declare a Kauyon; we shall strike immediately and wipe out the Gue'la in one fell swoop."

"Yes of course!" Teq'ila uttered, "At once!"

"We shall strike like a bolt of lightning!" Spiy'tus exclaimed in awe.

Alohvar however spat, "That is a mistake."

Jer'ema looked like he had been slapped as he hissed, "What did you say?!"

The others bristled at the defiance, but Alohvar ignored them as he said, "This situation clearly demands a Mont'ka strategy."

"You dare speak against me?!" Jer'ema uttered in shock, "I have tolerated your wayward behaviours so far but I shall not stand for this defiance."

Bruch'ich hissed, "Alohvar, how dare you contradict an Ethereal!"

Teq'ila snarled, "I knew you were scarred but this is too far."

Alohvar knew his oldest friends were turning against him but refused to be browbeaten as he urged, "I am not defying you Aun'la, I am offering you the benefit of experience. This is not the voice of resistance but wise council. I am not undermining you; I am trying to help you."

Jer'ema's eyes were stern as he growled, "Explain."

Alohvar knew his comrades would strike him down with but a word from this arrogant child yet kept his cool as he said, "Against any other foe a Kauyon stratagem would be correct but Commander Puretide himself taught that the first rule of warfare is to know your enemy. We are fighting Gue'ron'sha, the most aggressive and ferocious force the Gue'la possess. They will not sit behind lines waiting for us to come; they will not fling artillery at us from miles away. They will seek to bathe their swords in our blood, launching an assault on our basecamp within hours."

Jer'ema hissed, "You know this, how?"

Alohvar replied, "Arrogance, fanaticism, self-righteousness and contempt for the foe… this is the heart of the Gue'ron'sha. War to them is no cold equation of gains and losses but an exercise in pride and ego. They yearn to prove their superiority over us. To them it is not enough to kill us; they ache to make us see they are better than we are. To admit we are worthy of respect strikes at the very core of their self-identity. They have to break us; their hearts will accept no other outcome."

"And what do you intend to do?" Jer'ema growled.

"I shall draw them to us by placing Gue'vesa on the perimeter. The sight of humans fighting for the Greater Good will drive them into frothing rage. They will assault our lines with full fury, and then I will close the trap upon them."

"You make assumptions as to how the foe will react, a classic error," Jer'ema argued.

"I speak from experience," Alohvar countered, "Imperials cannot tolerate the idea of inter-species cooperation and racial unity. They built their empire on dogmatic oppression and xenophobia. To see humans standing with us will send them wild. Trust me when I say they cannot turn away from such an insult."

Jer'ema pointed out, "And they will reap a fearful tally among the Gue'vesa. Are you willing to sell the blood of our allies so freely?"

Alohvar wasn't concerned with dead humans but rather than admitting that claimed, "All warriors accept sacrifice is necessary for the Greater Good. As their commander it is my role to make their sacrifices meaningful."

Jer'ema went silent for a long moment, eyeing the old warrior suspiciously then declared, "You speak wisely Shas'El, I shall defer to your experience. Proceed with a Mont'ka, I shall watch in awe as your stratagem breaks the enemy." Then he turned and swept away, leaving no doubt he expected the plan to work, or Alohvar would be held responsible.

As he left the others sagged, blinking as their wits returned. Once more they were his old friends and Alohvar wondered what strange power the Ethereal held over them. He hastily covered by saying, "Well don't just stand there, tend to your suits, we have little time until they come."

Bruch'ich swung his head slightly as if drunk as he replied, "You… you are sure they will come?"

Alohvar replied confidently, "After the Nemy'yar Atoll there can be no doubt. No matter the breed Gue'ron'sha all feel the same hatred. Soon they will come and we must be ready. Prepare yourselves for battle; I shall ready the base for the coming assault. Make haste, the clock is running and we have a trap to set!"