Tales of the Amber Vipers 185

The fighting arena resounded with sounds of conflict, the back and forth of two champions wrestling for supremacy. Fists flew and kicks landed as flesh and bone were tested to the limit. On a short stage a pair of Transhumans wrestled, fighting to see who was the better warrior, as cheering Space Marines yelled approval. Despite being few in number the air was boisterous and merry, the sense of Brotherhood palpable. Most Chapters would have scorned it as ill-disciplined and uncouth, but by such measures were the Amber Vipers bonded together into a single warrior order.

Sergeant Reddam leaned on his spear as he watched Kazao and Tebes duel, his squad-brothers fighting with remarkable fury. They had been stripped of their armour and were dressed in tunics, though Kazao had doffed gloves, boots and a helmet to conceal his aberrant features. Tebes was swinging a mining pick about in long loops, making the air sing with its passing. Kazao by comparison had only a short club, yet he was holding his own, more than holding his own. He seemed faster and deadlier than most Amber Vipers could achieve with decades more experience.

Reddam sighed as Kazao ducked under a swing and slammed a fist into Tebes' flank, to the roaring approval of the crowd. Reddam had been driving his squad hard in the last few weeks but had finally relented enough to allow them to attend the fighting arena. The Navy's orbital dock had finally got its self in gear and established a Fury CAP, taking the burden from the Astartes. So with the pressure off they had stripped down and come for some welcome respite. Torvus and Anaxar squads were present, as was Sergeant Arcaka's squad.

Arcaka sounded impressed as he remarked, "Your aberrant is fighting well."

"Kazao is growing stronger every day," Reddam boasted, "His muscles must be made of plasteel, already he bests his comrades four times out of five."

Arcaka cocked his head and mused, "Never had an Aberrant in my squad. Doesn't his mutation offend you?"

Reddam sniffed, "He fights for the Emperor, he will die in battle, as will we all. What else matters?"

Arcaka glanced at him and probed, "You say his aberration makes him stronger… has he ever beaten you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Reddam snorted in mirth.

Arcaka looked at the stage and asked, "Tebes, he's your best?"

Reddam proudly said, "He'll make it to Primus, I'd wager."

"What of the others?"

Reddam sighed, "Larus is a magpie for trophies, with no sense of humour. He'd do well, but he lacks the initiative and imagination to seize opportunities. Joffel… he thinks he's the best but the truth is he's not even half as good as he thinks he is. What of your squad?"

Arcaka grinned as he replied, "A filthy mob of ruffians and scoundrels, just as I like them. One or two might make it into Primus, but the rest are Secundus to the core. I think they'd chafe under the discipline of the Battle-Captain, they like their beer and entertainment too much."

Reddam snorted, "Well… it is pleasing not having Chaplains roaring in our ears night and day."

Arcaka scoffed, "Aye, who needs prayer and fasting when we can kill better than anyone?"

"Is that a challenge?" Reddam retorted.

"Depends on what you're willing to wager," Arcaka teased.

Suddenly there was a cry from the stage and Reddam turned to see Kazao had thrown Tebes to the ground. He rolled over, ready to continue, but the coda of the fight was clear, first to touch the ground outside the stage lost. The crowd laughed and booed as small trinkets were passed from hand to hand, wagers being settled with trophies, engraved bolt-shell casings and devotional tokens.

Reddam shrugged his spear and said, "Come on then, our turn."

Arcaka grinned as he replied, "Don't think our long friendship means I will go easy on you."

Reddam pushed through the crowd and jumped onto the stage. Arcaka followed suit, drawing a splendid power sword as he did so. Reddam spared a glance at the deactivated blade, a sterling example of craftsmanship, taken from the hands of an enemy as most of the Chapter's arsenal was. He knew Arcaka was a furious fighter, fast and skilled but Reddam's spear gave him the advantage of reach. In truth he didn't know which of them was better, both being veterans of countless wars, this would prove interesting.

He set his feet and felt the coarse grains of the surface biting into his bare soles. Arcaka took up a stance across from him, blade held low and point-down in readiness. Reddam took his spear in both hands and levelled the deactivated point at his rival, ready to lunge as soon as an opening presented itself. He tensed in eagerness, only to be rudely interrupted as a shrill alarm cut through the air. All paused in confusion as heads lifted, then the alert blared again, a call to action stations ringing through the Wyvern.

Instantly the crowd broke, dashing away to their arming chambers. Reddam's feet cleared the stage before his conscious mind even thought of it. He slapped down onto cold metal and then was running for the billet. He dashed out of the fighting arena, Kazao, Tebes, Joffel and Larus in tow. Everywhere running chattels scrambled to bring the ship to battlestations and he hurtled past them without care, racing to get to their armour.

"What's going on?!" Joffel cried as they ran.

"Have the riots on the surface got out of control?" Larus guessed.

"We'll find out when we get into the void," Reddam snapped, "Double-time it!"

With great speed they dove into their billet, running to the arming stands where their armour waited. Servitors trundled forward to begin the laborious task of fitting them, a process that was as slow as it was tedious. Reddam spread his arms and legs as undersheath and exoskeleton were fitted, reciting the ancient litanies as required. It grated on his soul to be so still and idle when the alerts were blaring, of course the alarm would come in the few hours they dared disarm. Yet it could not be helped, despite what many mortals thought Space Marines did not live in their armour and the rites of fitting could not be skipped. The Machine Spirits of the plate were fickle and capricious things, a single misplaced seal could leave a warrior exposed to fire or a joint could lock up at a critical moment. Woe betide the warrior who dishonoured his armour with haste and carelessness, so taught the Cult Technis.

Finally the rites were completed and the Servitors trundled back. The squad stood in amber-hued armour, reactor packs humming as they tested their range of movement. Strength filled Reddam's limbs and his reflexes were sharper and keener than ever as the fusion of man and machine was made real. Kazao's red eyes flashed and his fangs were exposed as he said, "Nothing can match us now."

"Put your helm on!" Reddam snapped at the mutant, "Quickly, to the launch bay and prepare for anything."

He fitted his own helm then grabbed his spear and ran for the launch bay, only a short distance from their billet. In minutes they reached the busy hanger and found chattels furious preparing the strike craft. Mortal men and women hastily pumped fuel and armed missiles, priming hydraulic lines as more senior adepts sprinkled holy unguents onto fuselages with silver chasubles. He saw a wizened cleric reading aloud Binaric psalms to the gunship Viper's Bite, as a naked man covered in brands of cogs and circuits beat upon a stubborn turbine with a silver hammer in ritual fashion.

Reddam ignored that as he bounded to Grey Avenger. The Wrath was being worked over by a team of Chattels, preparing the interceptor for combat. He grabbed the waiting ladder and pulled himself into the cockpit, stashing his spear in the narrow space as he did so. His rear slammed onto the seat and snaking connections were made, greasy hands linking his plate to the machine spirit. Systems analysis and targeting arrays formed in his mind and the servitor in the rear seat chattered as start-up rituals were completed.

Reddam cycled through engine read-outs, avionics, weapon runes, auspex, comms and vector-thrusters, finding all was in order. Grey Avenger was ready and willing, the noble steed eager for the fray. His hands itched to grab the controls but first appeasements must be made. Reddam took out the silver thimble and anointed the control panel reciting, "War calls and the foe approaches. With my will I steer you, with your strength you carry me. Together we shall smite the Heretic, the mutant and the alien. Hear the call to battle and awaken noble steed!"

Rituals completed the cockpit was slid closed and the chattels scattered. Reddam waited a moment for them to get clear then pressed the activation rune. Grey Avenger's engines caught on the first attempt and he smiled as power surged through the controls. He called, "Launch control this is Reddam requesting clearance for take-off."

A distant chattel replied, "Clearance granted, launch immediately and take up a holding position off the bow. Good hunting."

Reddam grabbed the stick and throttle as he lifted off the deck, vector-thrust propelling him high. He turned his nose towards the waiting hanger door and called, "Follow me squad, Ave Imperator!"

He nudged the throttle and Grey Avenger shot forward on a plume of plasma exhaust. Metal walls flashed past as the Wrath departed the bay, shooting along a short tunnel of reinforced armour. Acceleration pressed Reddam back into his seat as his eyes beheld the inky blackness of space, filled with moving stars. The atmosphere integrity shield came and went then he was in the void, flying clear of the bay. He flipped the Wrath about and thrust parallel to Wyvern's direction, taking up a position just off her bow, ready to intervene wherever he was needed.

He settled into place and checked his auspex. To his surprise the Wyvern was manoeuvring into a higher orbit, moving away from the planet. The rest of the fleet was following suit, the Jormungandr and Veritas pointing their bows to the stars. Mymidon squadron was mustering along the flank and the orbital dock was disgorging Fury interceptors and Starhawk bombers in long lines. Below cargo ships and Mass-conveyors were milling about, the civilian shipping panicking at whatever danger was coming.

Tebes' voice came over the vox, "This is not right, why are we pointing into space?"

Kazao agreed, "This is no surface fight, whatever's coming is sailing out of the deep void."

Larus, "That would seem to indicate a hostile fleet is in-system."

Joffel retorted, "Thank you Captain Obvious, what would we do without you?"

Reddam snapped back, "Stow the chatter and keep an eye on the auspex. We will be informed of our situation when we need to know, but whatever's coming, we must be ready to face it." With that silence fell and Reddam gripped his controls tight. It seemed the Imperials had been premature to declare victory; the war for Lutum was not as finished as they had presumed. He didn't know what was coming but surely it would be bad. He could only trust they prove its match.