Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 209
"I don't care if they're struggling to respond, tell the enginseers to get those reactors lit or I'll come down there and kick their arses so hard they'll be spitting vertebrae!" Ferrac bellowed. Around him the frantic crew of the Wyvern struggled to obey, making all haste to bring the ship to battlestations. Chattels yelled commands at cross-purposes as they struggled to awaken the ship's spirit and rouse deckhands to their posts. The servitor's ceaseless moaning picked up tempo, becoming a pattering rainstorm of pops and hisses, signs that Wyvern's spirit was displeased by her crude awakening. Tech-adepts desperately implored the reactors for more power, shield crews hammered on consoles as they negotiated with the arcane mechanisms of the void projector vanes and gunnery seniors yelled down vox-links at sweating slaves far below. Through it all Ferrac stood with gritted teeth, his fury mounting. He knew a ship took time to bring to actions stations but that did not soften his ire, vital minutes were bleeding away as the enemy pressed their attack.
A commotion behind let him know Markof and Shrios had entered the bridge. They vaulted onto the dais without asking permission, an inquisitor needing no such waiver and Shrios was typically Shrios about it. Without hesitation Markof spat, "By the Throne what is this calamity?!"
Ferrac waved at the Hololith and muttered, "Hostile strike craft are attacking; they've found us."
"How?!" Shrios gasped.
"Doesn't matter," Ferrac spat, "They're here and their capital ships can't be far behind."
All eyes rose to the Hololith where flurries of Deathbirds tussled with desperately outnumbered Wraths. The defenders were fighting hard but so numerous were they that whole squadrons were slipping past, diving upon helpless cargo ships to blow airlocks and cripple drives with plasma bursts. The civilians were panicking, trying to light their drives and escape but they were even slower to respond than a military vessel. They wallowed helplessly in the void, barely even spitting out any turret fire to fend off the attackers.
Ferrac growled, "Why aren't Carmilla's Furies, engaged? Comms; signal Hornan and tell that lousy turd juggler to get his damned fighters into the bloody void!"
Chattels hurried to obey but Shrios commented, "They're probably caught off guard as we are."
"I don't care for excuses," Ferrac snarled, "They'll take us apart if we don't get the fleet in order."
Suddenly a great cheer rang across the bridge as chattels saw their consoles lighting up. Ferrac passed an eye over the arena and knew the reactors had finally reached full potential. With power surging throughout the ship engines and shields began to awaken, gunports slid open and armouries could move munitions freely. Slowly Wvyern stirred to motion, the throb of the deckplates telling him she was eager to spill blood.
"Finally," Ferrac growled, "Engage primary drives and get this rustbucket moving. Steer course 040 mark 010 and ready turrets to engage those fighters. Raise shields and get the rest of our Wraths into the void."
"You're taking us into them?" Shrios pressed.
Ferrac replied, "It's the only way, we have to break their formation or they'll slice straight through us."
It was then that Markof stepped up and said, "We should not risk this ship for the sake of cargo vessels. Let them die and turn for the storm. They can tie up the attackers while we escape with the prisoner."
Ferrac retorted, "If that was an option I would have done so already. Those fighters will mob us if we flee, we can't outrun them. Showing our stern will let them cripple our drives with ease. Like it or not the only way out of here is through them."
Markof sank back in frustration as Ferrac turned his eyes to the Hololith. Swirling Deathbirds were massing before the bow, readying to swoop down and attack. They couldn't kill a ship the size of Wyvern but their plasma cannons could blow away auspex arrays, tear out shield vanes and cripple drive units, weakening them for the follow-up punch. Ferrac however met the danger the only way he knew how, by driving straight at it.
Thrusting at full power Wvyern dove into the mass of strike craft and her turrets let rip. Streaming tracers lit up the night as chugging autocannons spat torrents into the void. Multi-lasers stuttered light in droves and flak barrages exploded, spraying shrapnel in all directions. The Deathbirds had not been expecting so bold a charge and were caught flatfooted. A dozen of them flared like firecrackers as the salvo ripped through them, shearing off wings and puncturing cockpits with deadly splinters. Their formation broke apart as they turned to run, fleeing the onslaught and buying a moment of respite.
Ferrac snarled in glee, "Blood for blood, our dead are well avenged this day."
Markof however commented icily, "It's too soon to celebrate, look."
From the storm emerged two leviathans, a pair of enemy warships closing on an attack run. Echidna and Angel's Revenge, plunging into the fray with deadly power at their fingertips. Sooner than Ferrac had expected and terrifyingly close. Imperious and cruel were they, seeing the wallowing Imperials laid out and their guns spoke moments after they emerged. A pair of cargo ships were caught in the barrage of those stacked gundecks, the Galactic Belle and the Princess Dermi. Their flimsy shields failed in moments and they were gutted, holds ruptured to spill air and bodies into the void. One salvo was enough to empty them of life, leaving them drifting coffins in the cold of space.
"They're here!" Ferrac spat, "Bring us to course 025 mark 300, extend the drives and push Wyvern as fast as she'll go!"
The bridge lurched as the ship dove under the plane of battle to avoid being caught in the arcs of the gun batteries. Artificial gravity swayed at the violence of the manoeuvre and Markof spat, "This too much, I demand you withdraw this instant!"
"What the Frak do you think I'm trying to do?!" Ferrac snapped, "They've painted our hull with auspex sweeps, we're not slipping out of here no matter what I try."
Revenge turned slightly to starboard and rolled, bringing her immense batteries to bear. A rippling broadside swept down her flank, flinging destruction into the void. Wvyern was turning abeam, diving hard and at extreme range, but still the fusillade found her. Ferrac was nearly thrown over the rail of the dais a torrent of shells and las struck the shields, slamming into them so hard feedback made the gravity generators spasm. A flaring corona of energy swamped Wvyern, the torrent of plasma, grav and missiles hammering her ceaselessly. Her systems screamed as she suffered, her defences being ground down piece by piece.
On the bridge wailing chattels screamed in terror as a man yelled, "Shields buckling!"
"Stand fast you yellow-bellied grots!" Ferrac bellowed, "This scow won't die so easily!"
"Incoming fire increasing! Another yelled, "Shields collapsing!"
Shrios clung to the rail as he spat, "Without the shields she'll tear our guts out."
Ferrac knew it to be true and in utter desperation ordered, "Roll us clockwise, present our port side to the barrage!"
Wyvern groaned as she rolled over, superstructure protesting the violence of the manoeuvre. Barely had she begun when the shields failed with an electrostatic bang, leaving her hull exposed. The torrent of destruction fell upon her like a divine thunderbolt, clawing at Wyvern's flank. Las, shell, grav, missile and plasma smote her portside, tearing and gouging at the hull like a predators' claws slashing a prey-beast's belly. Deeply and painfully did the impacts pierce her hide, but Ferrac's last ditch manoeuvre had presented the scorched mass of the burnt-out hanger bay to the enemy. The blackened frame was ripped asunder, torn out of the side of the ship in a flaring series of detonations, but that area had already been isolated and bypassed, its loss meant the critical systems beyond remained untouched.
Ferrac rode the bucking deck until finally the barrage wilted away and Revenge's guns ran dry. Markof looked stunned as he gasped, "What happened?!"
Shrios sounded amazed as he explained, "The Battle-Captain sacrificed our ruined hanger to spare the ship. He turned that mess of burnt spars into ablative armour, I am impressed."
"Save it," Ferrac grunted, "We still lost a few guns on the port side and we can't pull that trick again. I thank the throne Poisoned Fang and Viper's Bite were in the starboard bay, I'd hate having to explain losing our only two thunderhawks to the Chapter Master."
Suddenly a chattel yelled, "Signal from Jormungandr and Carmilla, their reactors are lit!"
"Finally," Ferrac growled, "This is our chance, tell them to make ready to engage, we have to hit the Heretics with everything we've got. Anaxar and Torvus squads to the Thunderhawks. Cycle shields and ready the guns for point-blank firing. What of the Fire ships?"
"Delightful Daughter and Danseur are ready to deploy," came the reply, "Juniper is still struggling to awaken."
"Two will have to do," Ferrac spat, "Signal all ships to come to bear on the Revenge, warships to provide cover for the fire ships. Steer course 250 mark 100 and join the charge as fast as we can."
Slowly vectors shifted in the Hololith as the ships came about, five Imperial vessels bearing down on the Battlebarge. Ferrac knew even now slaves would be racing to reload her guns but the mighty macrocannons took long minutes to ready to fire, time the Imperials could use. Wyvern rose back into the fray with her own batteries loaded and ready, hungry to repay her wounding thrice over. Jormungandr closed steadily, her scars many but her bombardment cannons promising deadly retribution, she would fight to the last. Carmilla sailed proudly, her lances thrumming with deadly power, sleek and fast she would be the swift rapier to the sledgehammer of the others. Below the fire ships trundled forward, leaving their fellow civilians behind, martyrs to the cause, their lives would spell the difference between victory and defeat.
Ferrac watched with relish as he calculated they had enough firepower to do this, if they struck before the enemy could reload their guns the Imperials could cripple the Revenge, maybe even kill her. It was good plan, but then something changed. Ferrac frowned as Carmilla began to fall behind, her drives diminishing in thrust. For a moment he thought they had suffered an engine malfunction but then he realised her bow was dipping, she was changing course on purpose.
"Carmilla is breaking formation," Ferrac spat, "Tell that Grox-fondler Hornan to get back into position!"
Shrios muttered, "Carmilla's not responding, she's turning away. Is she thinking to run?"
"No," Markof hissed darkly, "She's not; she's targeting the Fire ships with her lances."
"What?!" Ferrac cried in alarm, "What is this madness?!"
"This is not madness," Markof growled, "This is Heresy."
Shock ran through Ferrac as he saw treason play out before his eyes. Carmilla's bow came to bear and then her lances unleashed hell. Three spears of coherent light illuminated the void, stabbing downwards to strike the lumbering Fire Ships. Delightful Daughter took two blows to her spine and the beams cut her like a sow for slaughter. For a moment the vessel hung in the void, then her cargo of explosives and fuel ignited, erupting in a detonation that ripped her apart bow to stern. A blazing sphere of fury consumed the tiny ship, power equal to a Nova bomb set free to reducing the vessel to atoms. A furious orb of plasma expanded at near-lightspeed, washing over Danseur and swamping her in fire. A heartbeat later she too exploded, a second detonation flaring like a newborn sun. For an instant the ion storm was as bright as day, then the heat cooled and the light faded, leaving behind only shattered dreams and dashed hopes. The Fire Ships were gone and with them any prospect of victory.
Ferrac's jaw hung low, even he left aghast by the sight. It fell to Shrios to say, "We are betrayed."
"Juto Hornan," Markof spat, "That black-hearted knave has joined the Heretics. He will be made to pay for this, so swears the Emperor's Left Hand."
Ferrac's transhuman mind shook free of his shock and he growled, "I'd be more concerned with your own fate at this moment."
In the Hololith Carmilla was swinging about, pleased with her treachery and slipping away for another pass. Beyond her Echidna and Revenge came about, angling to engage at point blank range. Her guns were reloaded and her intent plain, she would drive through the heart of the fleet and obliterate all resistance in a single pass.
Shrios gulped, "We can't stand against that and we can't outrun them."
"We must find a way to break free," Markof urged, "Order the cargo ships to ram the enemy en-masse."
Ferrac however growled with grim finality, "It will take ages to arrange such a manoeuvre and we don't have the time, we'll all be dead within the hour."