Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 211
"Carmilla is turning her guns towards Jormungandr," came the call from the bridge chattels.
"There's nothing we can do to help her," Ferrac growled in frustration, "Anthor's on his own."
The order was sent forth as Ferrac returned his attention to his own plight. Wyvern was beset by foes and without allies. The Amber Viper's warship racing along the periphery of the engagement zone in a desperate attempt to break free. It was to no avail, Deathbirds hounded her stern, picking at her shields ceaselessly as desperately outnumbered Wraths tried to hold them back. With those tiny burrs stuck to her tail there was no way to escape, not while they were screaming her location to all with ears to hear. Off her stern Revenge and Echidna closed, the pair of hunters boxing in their prey. Ferrac had no choice save to flee, Wyvern couldn't withstand that hideous strength alone, yet it was only a matter of time until they ran her to ground.
Ferrac gripped the railing of the dais so tight the metal started to buckle as he tried to see what they could use to turn this around. He found little comfort in the Hololith. Three Traitor ships were at large, roaming free and clear. Jormungandr was squaring off against Carmilla, and they couldn't reach her anyway. As for the civilians they were no use, flailing hopelessly in the void as they tried to light their reactors and flee for their lives. Sloppy and ill-discipline civilian crews whose skills were lacking, it would be hours before any of them could go anywhere.
Suddenly a chattel yelled, "Revenge has a lock on our hull, bombardment cannons readying to fire!"
"Brace for impact!" Ferrac yelled in desperation.
Behind Revenge's spinal weapons came to bear. Ferrac had been cunning indeed to stay out of the arc of her flank weapon batteries, but the bombardment cannons enjoyed sweeping coverage. Wvyern lay dead off her prow, engines straining to open the distance but failing to achieve clearance. City-killing weapons loomed wide, like a predator's maw about to sink fangs into the helpless quarry, then they fired. Deathbirds scattered as three shells blasted away from her spine and all of them struck home. The first exploded against Wyvern's shields like a landmine under a careless foot, blowing concussive forces around the straining barriers. The second detonated a moment after, collapsing them entirely then the third struck home.
Ferrac was thrown from his feet as the Magma bomb burrowed deep into Wyvern's spine, then exploded. He clung to the rail as his universe tilted off-balance, his boot's mag-locks failing to secure him. Gravity yawed wildly as the ship buckled like an aquatic boat in a hurricane, pitching about in distress. Screaming chattels were thrown to the floor and against panels, breaking bones and ankles with the violence of the impact. One man slammed headfirst into the hard console of the row before him, shattering his skull and driving bits of bone into the brain, killing him instantly. Lighting failed and Wyvern screamed in agony as a knife sank into her spine, crippling her primary systems. Every console flashed red and servitors leaked oil and blood as feedback killed them, death finally taking the scraps of flesh that remained of the men they had been. Ferrac heard Wyvern's agony increasing as secondary explosions ripped through the hull, fuel and ordnance detonating in their magazines. This was ruinous damage, utterly savaging the ship and he knew it was doom. Then some random bit of debris broke off from the spine of the ship and slammed into the armoured louvres over the Oculus, tearing them away.
A howling vortex of wind broke over the bridge as the vacuum of space was given free rein. Ferrac's feet left the dais entirely and he hung onto the railing for dear life, knowing to lose his grip was to die. Others were not so strong and a dozen men were ripped from their perches, thrown to the endless gulfs of the void to die. Ferrac tried to pull himself down but even he could not deny the pull of space and so he hung helpless in the hurricane as a dozen men died every second. Then Armourglass shutters slammed home, cutting off the howling wind.
Ferrac fell to the floor with a thud. He rolled over and found a vision of hell awaiting him. Everywhere men and women lay groaning, nursing wounds and weeping as the reality of death swept over them. They knew they were defeated and that understanding left them useless. Ferrac however would not die so easily and bounded to his feet shouting, "Get back to your posts!"
Shrios picked himself off the deck and patted his armour down as he said, "Forget it, they're broken."
"They will obey," Ferrac growled, "Or I will kill them myself. You, get back to your post."
A weeping man was rocking back and forth clutching his knees as he cried, "I can't, I can't we're dead, we're all dead."
"You don't get die until I order you to!" Ferrac snapped.
The man shook his head and wept, "There's no point…"
He was interrupted as Ferrac drew his gun and shot him in the chest. A sledgehammer gun could floor a Space Marine; to a mortal man it was complete annihilation. The chattel was bodily thrown away, hurled backwards at fantastic velocity as his body folded up. The round bored through him as he flew, erupting from the back and flying away, dripping gore. Chattels all around were sprayed with hot blood, left blinking in shock at the suddenness of the death. Ferrac however merely levelled his gun into the crowd and snarled, "I will count to five then kill any man not at his post… one."
The crowd broke as they ran for their consoles, desperately afraid of the Battle-Captain's wrath. The prospect of facing annihilation in the void was far less terrifying than Ferrac's anger and every soul chose to die working, than be cut down by their own lord. Ferrac watched them with a cold expression, knowing this wouldn't buy more than a few minutes regardless.
Inquisitor Markof picked himself out from the corner he was wedged in and snorted, "You do have a way with words."
"If you don't have the decency to die then at least shut up," Ferrac spat as he vaulted onto the dais.
From here he could see out the Oculus and the sight left him cold. Wvyern was aflame, her spine ripped to shreds and precious gases spilling freely into the void. He didn't need a read-out to see the ship was crippled, power lines savaged and void shields gone. The craters along her flanks told a story of rippling detonations that had run down the gundecks, secondary explosions tearing macroweapons from their mountings and leaving them a tangled mess of broken metal and dead bodies. The damage was critical and beyond their ability to repair.
"Gundecks are fragged," Ferrac breathed.
"Then we're unarmed," Shrios spat.
"We must abandon ship," Markof urged.
"Useless," Ferrac retorted, "Those Deathbirds would see us and pick us off in a heartbeat."
"Then what do we do?" Shrios hissed.
"Start throwing rocks or more accurately mines," Ferrac declared, "Comms, we still have a few packages of explosives intended for the Fire Ships left in the hanger, tell the crews to set a two-minute delay and shove them out the doors!"
"What are you doing?" Markof hissed.
"Buying seconds," Ferrac growled, "Get me a damn Hololith!"
A few seconds passed and then the flickering mess of the Hololith came back online. The situation was worse than he feared. Revenge was still on their tail, doubtless reloading her guns. More concerning was Echidna, closing fast for a point-blank sweep across the stern. Her guns were piffling compared to a Battlebarge's but more than enough to finish the crippled Wvyern. In the distance Carmilla curved about a glowing cloud of gases and burning metal, her fight over.
"Where's Jormungandr?" Markof pressed.
"Dead," Ferrac hissed, "As we will be if those hanger crews don't get a bloody move on."
"That won't do anything against a ship's armour," Shrios commented.
"It will make them blink, that's all I need," Ferrac declared.
In the Hololith a tiny glint of light signalled the munitions being tossed into the void. They fell behind as Wyvern drove on, her drives pushing her in a straight line. Echidna closed contemptuously, looking to end this once and for all. She drove over the explosives without noticing, the tiny packages too small, slow and low-energy to bother the shields. Just as she did so they detonated, bursting in the void over her dorsal hull. Each package carried enough destructive power to level a hab-block, and there were dozens of them, but against the thick hull of a starship they had all the effect of firecrackers going off before someone's face. Pitted armour shrugged off blasts without even cracking, but the flashes did blind her surveyors for a few precious seconds, leaving her coasting forward without any sense of what was going on until they could be reset.
"Now!" Ferrac roared, "Come to course 100 mark 050, give me all the speed you can muster." Wyvern groaned as her ruptured superstructure took sheer forces that would have troubled her in a good state. Ponderously the bow came about, pointing towards the hanging motes of the cargo ships and then she dashed with what little speed she could gather.
"You're going to use the cargo ships as cover?" Shrios started.
"More like ablative shields," Ferrac snorted.
"That buys us only minutes," Markof carped.
"If you have a better idea I'm all ears," Ferrac rejoined.
Ferrac watched with ice creeping down his spine as the distance shrank. They'd given Echinda the slip but Revenge had a clear shot, he could only trust they would reach cover before those Bombardment Cannons could be reloaded. A task as laborious as it was slow for any ship, but would it prove long enough for Wyvern to survive, all he could do was wait and see. Slowly Wyvern dove among the wallowing cargo ships, disappearing into the mass of them and Ferrac breathed out in relief as he placed civilians between him and the enemy. Hardly honourable, most Chapters would howl at the indignity, but he cared nothing for mortal lives.
"That buys us a minute," Ferrac exclaimed in relief.
"Not that it will do us much good," Shrios grumbled, "They will blast through the civilians to get to us."
"Why haven't they already?" Markof asked with a frown.
"Who knows," Ferrac dismissed, "Keep us under that Mass-conveyor while I cook up a plan."
Shrios muttered some snide comment but Ferrac wasn't listening. He closed his mind to the outside world and turned his mind to finding a way out. It wasn't much use, the odds were laughably stacked against them and their means to fight back were scant. His brain was a Transhuman cogitator, running possible scenarios at speeds a Tech-Guard Skittari would find astonishing. Millions of possible outcomes flashed through his head and in all of them Wyvern died. The pride of the Amber Vipers was doomed, which left only one possibility.
Ferrac drew in a breath and called, "Signal Juniper and demand an update on their reactors."
Frantic comms-crews leapt to obey and a chattel called, "They're nearly ready."
"Then tell them to get a move on," Ferrac ordered, "I need them to move in five minutes."
Shrios leaned in and asked worriedly, "Ferrac, what are you thinking?"
Ferrac however turned to Markof and said, "Inquisitor, I need you to run down to the brig and speak to Maru Kysoto. Tell him I have an idea."