Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 228

Kerubim waited with frustration, impatient for proceedings to begin. He'd been waiting for hours, with nothing to do save stare at the walls. Brontes had been blessedly silent throughout as had Jordig, neither of them interested in conversation. Kerubim would have been bored, save for the tantalising prospect of getting off this ship. Cawl had promised them a mission and the chance to roam free, a prospect he clung to after a year of confinement. The brief taste of liberty he'd enjoyed earlier had driven in how shackled his prospects were and he was determined not to go back to his imprisonment.

For the hundredth time Kerubim's eyes roamed the greeting hall, taking in its grandeur. The meeting hall resembled a long gallery, filled with ancient wonders. Soft light filled the gallery with a reverent atmosphere and in the corners scrolled standing Holo-pennants displaying Binaric psalms. In a long row twin plinths stood stark from marble walls. Strange devices hung in shimmering Stasis-fields, bizarre machines and arcane circuits from antiquity. A counting machine with broken wires, a hand-cranked vox-unit, a clockwork man who played a game of regicide. In one corner lay a small astronomical probe, with a large dish on one side and an expended rocket motor on the other. It bore a plaque of a naked man and women, for reasons Kerubim couldn't define. Brontes had taken a look at this and scoffed at how innocent and naive its builders were, but refused to elaborate any further.

Kerubim rolled his neck about and asked, "How long will Cawl keep us here?"

Jordig replied calmly, "Meetings of two Magos of such high rank demands protocol Cawl can't just wave him in like a drinking buddy. Everything must be perfect, right down to the waiting periods, lest Pycelo thinks his position superior."

"He's establishing dominance?" Kerubim scoffed, "Isn't that redundant? From what you told me their ship is fourth the size of Zar-Quaesitor."

"Size isn't everything," Jordig stated.

"Exactly the sort of thing small people say," grunted Brontes.

Jordig ignored that as he continued, "I warn you, Magos Explorators are a strange breed. They range far from the blessed Synods of the Forgeworlds and acquire strange habits. They encounter Xenos and all manner of eldritch lore in their travels, unspeakable dangers, they must rely on their wits to survive. They become... eccentric and Magos Pycelo is stranger than most."

"So, they're a Mechanicus equivalent of Rogue Traders?" Kerubim mused.

"Rogue Traders are shameless deviants and unrepentant scoundrels. Magos Explorators are blessed servants of the Omnnissiah, they respect the Universal Laws and the pre-eminence of Mars, though circumstances oft force them to adopt unusual means to survive."

Kerubim nodded, "So we can expect danger and death, does that mean I get my rifle back?"

"You'll get it when you need it," Jordig rebuked, "Now Brontes, remember Magos Pycelo does not know you are an Abominable Intelligence, and cannot be allowed to suspect it. You must not speak unless addressed, and keep your answers short."

"I'll speak as I please around you meatsacks," Brontes growled.

"This is our only chance to get off this ship," Kerubim pleaded, "Just keep stumm for a while, or it's back to our cell for the rest of my lifetime."

"Pah, you fleshbags are pathetic," Brontes grumbled, "I'll keep quiet, so long as you don't act too stupid, which I expect won't last long."

Jordig prompted, "If anyone asks you questions, just say your responses are limited and they must consult your Adept-operator."

Any further conversation was cut off as a side door opened and Belisarius Cawl appeared. The Archmagos skittered over with an eager tread, Dannye trailing in his wake. The Dominus seemed ebullient this day, waving a ceremonial staff in his hands, that didn't reach the floor and crying, "He's here, he's here. What an amazing day this is, the future beckons, I can hardly wait!"

"Please Archmagos," Jordig urged, "A little decorum."

"What's that? Oh, yes I suppose a little solemnity is due. Still, it is exciting to be starting a new expedition. New projects always fire my synapses."

Cawl took up position behind the waiting party, fidgeting constantly. Kerubim ignored the noise as he peered down the long aisle, watching as the far doors slid aside. Normally protocol demanded hundreds of lesser Tech-Priests attend, but this mission was secret and could not be widely known, so the five of them were all that stood to greet their guests. The doors parted with a squeal of pistons moving and a faint breeze wafted inside. Kerubim felt it tickle his face but noted in the corner of his eye Jordig's face screwing up, nose twitching and lips pulling back over his fangs.

"What is it?" Kerubim hissed sotto-voice.

"I smell... something," Jordig hissed, "Not human, not Xenos. I don't like it."

"You can smell that?" Kerubim started, "How sharp is your nose?"

"Gnnnrrgh," Jordig breathed like a threatened mastiff.

"Jordig, you're growling," Kerubim urged,

"Red Sands," Jordig muttered pinching his nose, "Get a hold of yourself man."

Light moved at the far door and then the visitors emerged. A huge machine, bigger than Cawl, advanced on piston-legs, each foot rising higher than a man's head with every step. It was impressively built and Kerubim could only guess this was Magos Pycelo. The machine advanced up the gallery, legs barely clearing the artefacts and casting them all into shadow. Under its bulk walked a number of individuals, Tech-adepts of varying orders and levels of augmentation. Keruibm couldn't read their signifying runes, but guessed they served the Explorators in some manner, yet what caught his eye was the smallest of them, a thick and broad individual with a long beard and a huge hammer slung over his shoulders.

"An Abhuman," Kerubim breathed.

"That's where the smell is coming from," Jordig muttered, "I won't growl, I won't growl, I refuse to act like an animal."

"A squat," muttered Brontes, "Just what we don't need."

"Hush!" Kerubim whispered as the party drew near.

Cawl spread his many arms as the party drew close and declared, "Magos Pycelo, the Omnissiah blesses us with your presence!"

The machine ground to a halt and replied in a venerable voice, "Archmagos Cawl, we were honoured to receive your summons."

"Nonsense, it is I who am in your debt. So vaunted an Explorator as yourself should hurry for no one."

"Any chance to be of service to the Archmagos Dominus," Pycelo replied smoothly.

Kerubim was finding all this to be very smug and self-congratulatory and yet Cawl broke off to say, "May I introduce my retainers. Dominus Secutor Dannye, Techmarine Jordig, his apprentice Kerubim and combat-unit Brontes."

Pycelo in turn said, "My Executor Ruuka, Famulous Tyrea, Magos Biologis Krusin and Secutor Wulfe."

"The little one is a threat," interrupted Brontes making Kerubim wince.

"Wadda say to me?!" Wulfe growled.

Brontes however countered, "I'm sorry, my responses are limited, you must ask my adept."

"I apologise, this unit's threat protocols are a touch sensitive, I will correct the error," Kerubim hastily uttered, cursing Brontes all the while.

"Come, let us not sully this auspicious meeting," Cawl urged, "An unprecedented chance lies before us."

Pycelo brushed it off saying, "I am eager to hear more, your message was tantalising but brief on details."

"Alas it must be so, this is a most sensitive matter and prying eyes are everywhere. We must proceed in utmost secrecy."

"Why danna ye ask the bot here?" Wulfe growled.

"Sorry, my responses are limited, ask my adept," Brontes scoffed.

Cawl continued, "I have obtained the coordinates for a potential source of archeotech. Not just one locale, but possibly scores, hundreds even."

"A most worthy find," Pycelo agreed, "I see why you summoned me."

Cawl affirmed, "We have worked well together in the past, I can trust your discretion, and your ability to get results."

"And do you trust us, rust-bucket?" Wulfe growled.

"My responses are limited, ask the adept," Brontes retorted.

But Wulfe's eyes hardened as he spat, "Three responses, three different inflections. That's no mindless automaton, that's a damned thinking machine!"

Quick as a flash Wulfe drew his hammer, swinging about the haft with both hands to bring the heavy head to point at Brontes. Gravitic energies crackled over the head of the hammer, then it discharged with a clap of thunder. Kerubim barely got out of the way as the wave of distortion flew past, rippling the air with passing gravitic packets. The shot struck Brontes on the shoulder and his armour crumpled, crushed like a sheet of parchment wrung in broad hands. The Cadmus staggered under the blow but then rallied with a roar of anger, bringing his fists up as they crackled with lightning and his Fission-blasters glowing with deadly energy.

Everybody fell back in alarm as the pair readied to give battle but Kerubim threw himself between them, arms raised as he shouted, "Stop! Stop! For Omnissiah's sake stop!"

"Get out of my way Fleshbag!" Brontes roared, "I'll kill him, I'll squash him flat!"

"Try it ye bag o' bolts!" Wulfe snarled, "The Rotundus beat ya once, we can do so again!"

"What is this?!" Pycelo roared, "It speaks, it converses. Cawl, you have made a Silica Animus!"

"He didn't make dung," Brontes growled, "He wouldn't know where to start."

Wulfe's eyes narrowed as he spat, "Ye be a survivor of the old times. Which one were ye, Interex, Old Earth, League of Nine?"

"Hegemony," Brontes growled.

"I knew it," Wulfe snapped, "Knew it as soon as I laid eye on ye."

Kerubim's arms fell as he gasped, "You recognise the Hegemony?"

Wulfe hissed, "Ye lanky streaks a' piss may have the memory of a sieve but we Rotundus remember. We remember the fleets sent to subjugate our worlds, the rust-addled abominations that marched over our planets. We broke their armies and ships, sent them packing in short order and left one a' their precious Spartak ships as a wreck, to remind them not to make the mistake of crossing us."

"It was certainly a mistake," Brontes snarled, "You grit-suckers deserve the rad-wastes you called colonies."

"And your makers deserved to have you clanking abacuses rebel and wipe them out," Wulfe spat.

From the side Cawl interjected, "This unit is indeed a thinking machine, but not a dangerous one. It predates the rebellion, it has no issue with mankind and has displayed hostility to the forces of Chaos. It is helping us recover the lost technologies of the past."

"You trust it?" Pycelo uttered in amazement.

"I trust him," Kerubim declared, "I've seen him fight the Daemons of Chaos, he has no interest in attacking the Imperium."

"I don't," Wulfe snarled not lowering his hammer, "The Imperium has its flaws, but it's nothing compared to the Hegemony."

"You know nothing squat," Brontes hissed.

"Rotundus! Ye useless pile a scrap iron!"

"I thought the Imperium would wipe out genic byblows like you," Brontes barked.

"And I thought a wretched pile of cogs like ye would be melted down for chamber pots!"

Kerubim was overwhelmed by the tension in the air and knew violence was a moment away but then a soft voice called out, "Please gentlemen, is this really called for? We all are here for the same thing are we not?" From the visitors stepped forth a slim adept, with an oddly curved torso and long black hair. Kerubim found her form most inefficient and unsuited for combat and yet she stepped between the angry pair without a hint of concern. Caught between two ferocious fighters yet not the slightest bit afraid.

Kerubim watched with amazement as she placed a hand on Wulfe's hammer and pushed the head down saying, "Let us not be hasty. This could be a marvellous opportunity."

Wulfe's eyes didn't soften but he allowed his weapon to be lowered as he growled, "I don't trust it."

"Cawl trusts it, that's good enough for me," the woman replied serenely.

Wulfe glared but allowed, "If ye say ta give it a chance I will, for your sake lady Treya."

Then she turned to Brontes and said, "You point a gun at me, do you intend to destroy me?"

"Depends on what comes out of your mouth," Brontes hissed.

"I seek only understanding," Treya urged as she brushed a hand over his casing, "You are a magnificent work of art, a wonder from a distant age. A machine capable of discourse and reason, I never saw before how limiting the Universal Laws are, to demand we destroy your kind. To damage your systems would be a crime against knowledge itself. What marvels could you teach us, what treasures could you lead us to? I am in awe of your craftsmanship. It would be a waste for us to fight. Can we put this unfortunate incident aside and reason together?"

To Kerubim's total shock Brontes' arms lowered and he allowed, "My makers prized reason above all. For their sake I will stand down." Kerubim had no idea how Treya had talked them out of fighting, her voice was compelling in a way he'd never experienced, perfectly pitched to compel her audience to listen. She could have talked the sun into not rising and the sea to stand still. For the first time Kerubim grasped what a Famulous was and how expertly her augmetics had sculpted her to be the perfect ambassador. When she spoke, all listened.

Pycelo broke the uneasy silence to say, "If we are sure this unit is no threat, I could see the benefits of an alliance."

"You take no issue with its nature?" Jordig asked in surprise.

"Magos Explorators have to learn flexibility," Pycelo replied, "You'd be amazed at the bargains I have to make. This is far from the strangest partnership I have forged."

Cawl interjected, "Perhaps we should talk alone, so I can explain your mission and what rewards it could bring."

"Yes," Tyrea urged, "Let us cool our heads and allow logic to lead."

"Wait on the ship," Pycelo ordered.

"Come with me," Jordig muttered to Kerubim.

Cawl and Pycelo remained as the rest trooped out, two parties staying as far away from each other as possible. Kerubim eyed Brontes' shoulder and said, "You should let me fix that."

"My self-repair systems can handle it," Brontes snapped, "The next time the grit-sucker tries anything, I'll squish him."

"Ye be welcome to try," Wulfe retorted.

"I'll be watching you."

"Watch my hairy arse, ye rusty pisspot!"

As parties split up Kerubim groaned silently. They hadn't even left the ship yet and already their problems seemed insurmountable. This mission was going to be hard enough without being at each other's throats. Should they encounter hostile forces he didn't rate their chances of surviving five minutes, but then with allies like this who needed enemies?