Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 180
"Fang-rot, I've got a warning rune on the port drive coil," came the voice of Tebes over the vox.
"Can you fix it?" Sergeant Reddam asked with concern.
"No but I can compensate," Tebes called.
Reddam gritted his teeth as black void coasted past his canopy. He passed an eye over the glowing runebank before him and saw his flight spread out in the Auspex, tiny blips and bars denoting position and vectors. They were flying in a V-formation, but Tebes' fighter was lurching to and fro. Reddam saw instantly that his young Brother was struggling to keep in line and determined to have a look.
"Kazao, take point," Reddam ordered, "I'm dropping back."
"Confirmed," came the voice of another Brother.
Reddam reduced his drive coils and the Wrath fighter fell back, relative to its partners. Grey Avenger, someone had daubed it, ma honoured name for an ugly brick of a craft. Reddam feathered the throttle as the servitor in the rear seat chattered inanely, reducing power outputs to compensate. Reddam tuned out its clattering as he rotated his fighter ninety degrees and peered upwards. Seemingly above his head another Wrath coasted, its bulky drives flickering ceaseless. The cause was obvious, an energy line had blown on the port flank, radiating drive power into space and bleeding the fighter of thrust.
Reddam sighed as he saw the damage was severe and called, "Tebes, your engine is damaged. Break off and return to the Wyvern for repair rituals."
"I can fly on one engine!" Tebes protested.
"There's a time for reckless bravado and this is not it. Follow protocol and return to the hanger."
Tebes spat, "I would be shamed to give up half-way."
Reddam snapped, "Your shame is no concern of mine, the safety of the flight is. You are endangering your Brothers with this display. The Amber Vipers are not Space Wolves, to grasp for personal glory. Think of the good of the squad, not your own pride."
Tebes replied abashed, "Yes Sergeant, returning to Wyvern immediately."
Tebes' fighter broke off, spinning over and thrusting away. Reddam watched it depart for a moment then righted his craft, bringing it relative to its compatriots. Settling back in his seat Reddam let his power armour commune with the Wrath's Machine Spirt, binding his awareness to its systems better than any Navy neural shunt. Reddam was of Secundus, the Amber Viper's fast-attack unit. Usually he rode a bike but he was equally competent with gunship, tank, fighter and space craft, he had to be, the Chapter didn't have enough Space Marines to specialise to such a degree.
Reddam was a scarred and grim warrior of seasoned worth. He was of the 'Old Seventeen', those who had founded the Chapter, though that epithet was wildly inaccurate now that death had started winnowing their numbers. He wore mismatched power armour, cobbled together out of various marks and fitted together in unorthodox ways that would have any tech-priest spitting oil, but the heraldry was lovingly applied and maintained. He honoured his plate with his devotions and trusted it as much as his squad Brothers.
His eyes lifted and he took in the remainder of the flight. Kazao, Joffel and Larus, all flying their Wrath fighters in crisp formation. He was proud of the skills they showed, precision honed over countless hours in the Strategos-Simulacra, perfecting techniques and honing their reflexes. He couldn't fault their skills, though their vox-discipline still left something to be desired.
"Ha, Tebes will be red-faced in the barracks tonight!" wild Joffel chortled.
"Surely you don't mean to tease him over a technical fault," Larus protested, straight-laced as ever.
"I plan to make his life a living hell!" Joffel chuckled, "He will come to fear my tongue."
"Your tongue gives no cause for alarm, we are conditioned to feel no fear," stated Larus.
"For Throne's sake Larus, he's making a jest. You need to get a sense of humour!" Kazao quipped.
"Humour is not required to perform my duties," Larus said flatly.
Reddam rolled his eyes under his helm and left them to chatter as he looked about. The Amber Viper's craft were circling the orbital lanes, keeping a watchful eye out for threats. The Chapter wasn't expecting trouble with the war won, but a CAP was standard doctrine for all Space Marines. The Amber Vipers paid scant heed to the Codex Astartes but they yet sought to become the equal of any other Chapter, in discipline as well as numbers. In Reddam's opinion they still had a long way to go, but matters had improved in recent years. Thanks to Maru Kysoto and his teachings the Chapter was climbing out of its base origins and becoming something worthy, at least so he told himself.
"Stow the chatter," Reddam ordered, "Two more hours of patrol, then back to the Strategos-Simulacra."
"Not again!" Joffel protested, "Can't we have an hour to kick back and drink beer?!"
"I hate to agree with him," Kazao interjected, "But we could use a rest, an hour in Maru's machines feel like a week of solid combat."
"Get used to it," Reddam snapped, "This is half the training a real Chapter imposes. You need to toughen up."
Kazao lamented, "You've been driving us hard ever since we had that run in with the Crusaders."
Even Larus agreed, "You do seem especially driven recently."
Reddam however spat, "You've seen real Space Marines now, you should be trying to match them. The Codex Astartes allows only for a fifteen minutes rest period, to contemplate our duty to the Emperor."
"Fifeteen minutes!" Joffel squawked, "That barely enough time to get a beer down. Training, practice, drill, training, practice, drill… when are we supposed to sleep?!"
"You get four hours sleep a day!" Reddam retorted, "Consider that a luxury, when I was a Neophyte we thought ourselves lucky to get ninety-minutes sleep. I once had to go three-weeks without sleep and our instructors were going easy on us!"
Kazao teased, "I know, you told us already. And you had to walk ten miles in the snow for bolter drill each morning and then lick the barracks clean with your tongue and sleep in a drain!"
Reddam couldn't help but laugh, "You make me sound like an old fishwife."
"Well…." Kazao murmured.
"Very well, I'll stop haranguing you, but stay focused until we get back to the hanger," Reddam snorted.
Reddam chuckled to himself as the vox went quiet. Kazao had come a long way from the shame-faced boy who had joined his squad. The youth was an aberrant, afflicted with defective gene-seed that had left him with scaled skin and red eyes. An unfortunate degeneration that should have been euthanized, but the Amber Vipers were in no position to ignore hands that could hold a bolter, so they kept their mutants alive. One day they would no longer require such short-cuts, but that was a long way off so they made so, the Amber Vipers always made do.
Reddam fell silent as the patrol swept along. They coasted past shuttle lines and bulging cargo ships, they cruised past mass-conveyors and weather satellites. Reddam skirted the Veritas, the Navy not liking intruders roaming near to their cruisers, and finally to the orbital dock itself. The station was a typical ring structure, heavily armoured and armed. It would be serving as the new Planetary Governor's abode, some random Crusade officer dumped here to keep an eye on things after the fleet moved off. Reddam was interested to see a flight of Starhawk bombers landing on the dock, taking up their new posting, but couldn't linger to watch, it was time to head back.
Reddam flipped Grey Avenger over and pushed the drive coils, soaring back to the Wyvern. Long minutes passed as they soared over the planet's curvature, approaching the tiny speck that was their ship. As thousands of kilometres shrunk to mere dozens the Wyvern grew into a blunt lozenge of metal. The ship was bulbous about the gunwhales and tapered in the prow, giving it the appearance of an elongated pyramid, yet she boasted enhanced manoeuvring thrusters and reinforced shields. Guns had been strapped to any place that could take them, giving her a vicious bite, but her armour was standard for a ship of her displacement. The Wyvern was the largest ship in the Amber Viper's flotilla, save the Serpens Rex, but Reddam found her underwhelming. In another life he had served on Strike Cruisers and Battlebarges and this refurbished pirate vessel would barley have been deemed worthy to ferry munitions in another Chapter.
Reddam saw another flight of Wrath fighters taking off from the port bay and shifted vox channels to call, "Reddam to Arcaka, come in."
"Arcaka here," came the familiar voice of the other sergeant, "Anything interesting out here?"
"Orbital dock is taking on starhawks," Reddam replied.
"Oh, be still my beating hearts," Arcaka quipped scornfully.
"Watch it, you're starting to sound like a snakelet," Reddam teased.
"Emperor forfend," Arcaka snorted, "I must assign myself six hours of self-flagellation at once."
Reddam chuckled at the retort, Arcaka was another of the Old Seventeen, they shared a bond few could understand. Lightly he called, "How about a friendly round in the fighting arena instead?"
"Sounds good to me, I could do with something to punch!" Arcaka agreed.
"Good hunting," Reddam called in the traditional hail, then switched off.
The Wyvern's starboard bay grew in size as flashing lights guided them in. Some Chattel had suggested a Machine Spirit could do the job but the Astartes had refused, practicing a manual landing was essential at every turn, he who relied on automated docking procedures mid-battle invited catastrophe. Reddam slowed his relative speed until he was moving at a near-crawl, then coasted through an atmospheric integrity shield to emerge into a wide hanger bay. Artificial gravity tugged at his craft and he used flaring thrusters to glide over to a marked circle on the floor, where he set down with a thump.
Instantly his hands danced over the controls, securing systems and shutting down engines. Laborious safety checks were mandated as he made his craft safe, then he took up a tiny brass vial and anointed the console with blessed oils, chanting, "With sacred libations I soothe thee, with reverent devotions I appease thee. Sleep machine and await the call with good grace. Be at peace and dream of war."
Ritual appeasements completed Reddam popped the canopy and disengaged his armour. From beside his chair he took up his power spear, it barely fitted in the narrow cockpit but he was not going anywhere without it. The weapon had saved his life too many times to be parted from him. Chattels were wheeling a stair up to the Wrath but Reddam ignored them, jumping over the side to thump to the deck. His boots touched down and he pulled off his helm, smelling the noxious mix of engine exhaust, fuel, unguents and air that had been recycled far too many times to be healthy. It smelled like an athletes' boot after a marathon, but Reddam didn't care, he found it a comforting stench. Reddam had learned to distrust any maintenance bay that was too clean and tidy. A workshop should be a reeking mess; it showed it was actually being used.
The other's wandered over, helms doffed to reveal Transhuman faces. Kazao alone kept his on, to hide his aberrant features. An odd affection but far less conspicuous than the old Stormtrooper helmet he used to wear. Reddam nodded to them but looked about for Tebes and found him buried up to the arms in his fighter.
Reddam shrugged his spear and wandered nearer, brushing aside chattels who were tending to the other systems. "Serious damage?" he called.
"Busted energy relay," Tebes called without pulling his arms out, "It's been finicky for weeks."
"That module requires decommissioning and replacement," Larus stated.
Joffel sneered, "I shall write to the Fabricator-general of Mars and ask him to ship us some replacements."
"Sarcasm doesn't help," Reddam rebuked, "Pull the module and send it to the workshops for repair."
"One second… got it!" Tebes yelped as he pulled a sparking device from his engine.
Reddam sighed at the sight for the module was indeed burnt out. It had been refurbished a dozen times and was growing unreliable, but spare parts were in short supply. Fighter craft were a rare breed and finding components was challenging. The fact the Amber Vipers flew Wrath fighters spoke volumes. Old, obsolete and outdated in most quarters, long since replaced by the Fury interceptor in front-line naval service. The Chapter had bargained for some off a backwater governor a few years ago, in exchange for eliminating a rich cousin who was growing too popular in the local court, and pressed them into service. Nominally Wraths were two-man craft, but the Amber Vipers couldn't spare a Space Marine to sit in the rear seat, so made do with hard-wired servitors. Wraths lacked the reliability and secondary turret of a Fury, but still owned ten lascannons and four missiles, making for a potent punch. Plus their thrust-to-mass ratios were a hair finer, giving them more acceleration in a straight line. The Fury was a noble steed but in Reddam's opinion the Wrath was a deadlier weapon of war, a shame their reliability could best be described as 'Abysmal'.
Tebes was turning the burnt module over in his hands and said, "I'm not sure this is repairable."
"Let the tech-artisans worry about that, they've cooked up a few tricks even Tech-priests don't know," Reddam replied.
"Oh they know them," Kazao interjected, "They've merely labelled those tricks Tech-Heresy."
Tebes handed the module off to a chattel and asked, "How long until we leave this worthless planet?"
"I heard the Chapter is leaving in the frigates," Kazao replied, "We're being left here to escort an Inquisitor back to the Crusade."
"Why us?" lamented Joffel, "That blasted Crusade has Space Marines coming out of its ears. What does the high and mighty Roboute Guilliman need us for?"
"Don't know, don't care," Tebes retorted, "Coluber says we're taking orders from him now, so get used to it."
"Chapter Master Coluber," Reddam corrected, "And he has pledged our aid to the Indomitus Crusade, a noble undertaking."
"Then why keep us in the dark?" Larus said, "There's more going on here. Storming our base, holding us at gunpoint and then taking off like nothing happened. Something stinks."
"Oh, it that what that smell is, I thought it was Tebes!" Joffel laughed.
Reddam shook his head and said, "You had all better go grab something to eat, we have training to do."
"Not the Strategos-simulacra again," Kazao lamented.
"Yes the Strategos-simulacra!" Reddam snapped, "Followed by a twenty kilometre forced march followed by bolter drills. Then you lucky curs get four whole hours to sleep, before we head out for another twelve-hour patrol. I'm going to make real Space Marines out of the lot of you, even if it kills you!"