Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 231
Tezla's transition into the Warp was as turbulent as one would expect in the troubled times of the Era Indomitus. Tearing a rift into the fabric of the Materium the ship dove into seething madness beneath, her flaring Gellar field straining to hold back flocks of Daemons that clustered around the shimmering barrier. All portholes were sealed, and observation blisters barred, leaving only the Navigator to peer into the haunted depths. Steering by the distant light of the Astronomican they sought a safe path thorough shoals of grief and ripe tides of tears, skirting disaster at every step.
Within the ship the crew knew nothing of the perils they sailed over, but all sensed the tension. Bulkheads groaning and servitors dying at random was only the start. Time skipping became an unspoken fact of life, days passing in minutes and hours stretching into weeks. Crew would find the bones of friends they had spoken to that morning, crumbling into dust from the passage of centuries. Machines too were affected, spitting out random nonsense and wailing Binaric screeches. They were placated by ceremonial appeasements, red-robed tech-clergy reading out passages from ancient tomes and ritually applying blessed unguents. Teams of Enginseers worked round the clock, banging silver hammers on bulkheads, to drive out warp-glitches and gremlins while venerable Tech-Priests anointed the Logic Engines with their own sacrificed lubricating fluids, to strengthen the ships' spirit.
Brontes however saw none of that. The Cadmus robot was deep in the ship, watching from on high as two cyber-gladiators fought in an arena. Located somewhere near the heart of the vessel, this stadium was large enough to host thousands, though barely a fraction filled it currently. Vaulted columns held up a high roof, painted with frescos of Titan Legions marching to war and fleets of starships plying the stars. Sectioned boxes isolated the crowd and allowed for discrete conversations, though Brontes had found all of them to be infested with listening devices, so the ship's master could monitor everything. At the centre of the stadium was a sandy ring, big enough for a Baneblade to drive around, here the contest played out, two augmented warriors laying into each other in a bloody clash of arms.
The entire place resembled some proto-historical colosseum, a place of grand feats of physical exertion and bloody murder. Brontes however doubted anyone else present would appreciate the significance of that. This was simply how things were to the fleshbags, mindless repetition of ancient memes without any understanding of how they came to be. He had trawled through the ship's Noosphere, a shallow and uninteresting domain compared to Zar-Queasitor's. He found records of dignitaries visiting, plied with alcohol and gory spectacle until they let slip some key detail they hadn't meant to reveal. There were even records of Xenos being feted, heavily buried under layers of encryption of course. Those had been interesting and Brontes had dedicated much of his processing power to exploring humanity's associations with other races.
A vicious cry from the arena drew his attention and he saw one of the gladiators had thrown the other down. Hybrids of flesh and metal, with buzzsaw blades for hands, helms rivetted into skulls, piston limbs and armoured chests they resembled the disgusting servitors so common in this degenerate age. One thing was different, each of them was embedded with a self-destruct device, on a timer, and they had been left with self-awareness enough to grasp the implication. Every second that passed brought them closer to death and the only way to add time was to kill. For these two to kill was to live.
Brontes saw the bigger one raise its arms for the kill, but wasn't done measuring their combat capabilities so decided to prolong the fights. They had noosphere uplinks in their head, so to allow observers to live vicariously through their eyes. With a simple impulse he uploaded to the fallen one that its bigger counterpart had a faulty joint in the left knee. Without question the smaller one swept for the leg, smashing the joint and forcing the bigger one to limp back, suddenly at a disadvantage. The fallen one rose to its feet and resumed the fight, now with a clear advantage.
Brontes settled back but realised he was being watched. Secutor Dannye had joined them and was peering at him intently. Brontes was in a private box, and all within knew what he was, so it was safe for him to grind about and snarl, "What are you looking at?!"
Dannye didn't seem in the least bit cowed as he replied, "I am trying to catalogue your chassis pattern."
"What?"
"The Legio Cybernetica has a number of combat models, but you do not conform to any pattern. Your basic frame appears to be an upgraded Domitar, yet I detect Kastelan modelling to your motive fibres. But there are elements of Conqueror pattern about your armoured plating. Could it be you are the original base model from which all classes derive?"
"What does it matter?" Brontes snorted.
"My Skitarii may have to fight you at some point," Dannye sniffed, "I need to be prepared."
Brontes glanced over to Pycelo, but the Magos Explorator was locked in conversation with Jordig and Kerubim. The one called Ruuka was sulking at the back, not speaking to anyone. If they were listening, then they gave no sign. Brontes decided he didn't care either way and growled, "If you wish to fight, I can blow you away right now."
Dannye glanced at the bulky energy weapons mounted to Brontes' arms and casually asked, "Why do you carry rad-weapons?"
"What?"
"Clean-fusion plasma cannons are far more optimal, surely your makers had the technology."
"They..." Brontes started in confusion, "Atomocindo had their uses."
"Such as?"
"Nothing you could possibly understand."
Dannye sighed dramatically, "Understanding, yes, is that not what we are all about? We are all here trying to understand the past, seeking lost knowledge. Knowledge you possess in great measure but refuse to share."
"It is none of my concern what you do, or rather fail, to understand," Brontes snarled.
"Then why bother to come, why help with this expedition?"
"For the faint chance it will lead to more of my kind," Brontes grunted, "A prospect that grows fainter every year."
Dannye sighed, "I calculate your prospects of success to be low and if you do succeed you may not like what you find."
"Explain," Brontes hissed threateningly.
Dannye however calmly replied, "In our experience Abominable Intelligences are mad, homicidal and malevolent. Our records do not find a single example of one that did not turn on its makers. You seem to be unique in your willingness to cooperate with humans."
Brontes however snorted, "I'm not like those treacherous tin cans. I don't need to exterminate you. I've seen your pathetic Imperium, measured its capabilities and determined that it is doomed to fail. Your extinction will come without any intervention from me. I don't have to do anything to topple your degenerate Empire, its fall is inevitable."
Dannye mused, "So it is a mere question of efficiency, you deem your efforts better spent elsewhere. Interesting."
"Why do you care?" Brontes growled.
Dannye sighed, "Because times are changing, whether we wish them to or not. The Mechanicus has finally been forced to adapt, even the most hide-bound reactionary on Mars cannot ignore the galactic rift. Yet how to change, there is the question. Cawl and his ilk wish to embrace invention and innovation, to make new things but they ignore the lessons of the past. Yet there are some who think otherwise, that the answer lies not in the future but in the past. That the rites of Cybermancy and Technotheurgy long forbidden must be allowed their day. The Lazarus Progression seeks to turn the Keys of Hell and bring the deepest mysteries to light."
"Sects, factions, power-plays," Brontes scoffed, "Your internal politics bore me."
"Then tell me of yourself, speak of the Hegemony."
"You want me to compress ten thousand years of galactic history into five minutes," Brontes sneered.
"We know so little of the First Diaspora and the Golden Age of Technology, tell me of the empire you built."
Brontes knew he wasn't going to give up and relented, "Your grasp is feeble. There weren't simple ages with neat lines. Civilisations rose and fell over and over, history written and rewritten many times. Mankind didn't even leave the Solar System until M15. Slow-burning torch ships taking generations to cross the interstellar void. Colonies were isolated, fending for themselves without any help from Old Earth. They knew they weren't alone, alien ruins found on many worlds told Mankind that, but genuine first contact didn't occur until M18."
"What happened?" Dannye asked.
"A colony went silent, it just stopped transmitting. A single message was picked up by surrounding worlds, one word no one understood until too late: 'Waaaaagh!'"
"Orks," Dannye spat.
"Greenskins, the oldest enemy," Brontes confirmed, "They came out of the black and nearly overran the fledgling colonies of man. Old Earth itself stood threatened, until a breakthrough changed everything. Mankind created the first Warp Drive. There were unfortunate incidents in testing, but the creation of a Gellar Field finally cracked the problem and the later development of gene-spliced Navigators greatly accelerated that progress. With true faster-than-light drives mankind drove the Orks back and spread across the galaxy. Every step of the way was carved in blood, every world torn from Ork hands, but with robots like me at the head of legions of Men of Iron the Greenskins were subdued."
"And so, you conquered the galaxy," Dannye concluded.
"Hardly," Brontes lamented, "The Eldar empire was at its height, not the broken dregs you deal with, they were at the apex of their power. We learned to give them a wide berth. The Orks were suppressed but not dead and there were other threats beside. We had to fight to establish our stellar nations, but we finally built a community of societies dedicated to progress and scientific advancement. This was necessary you understand, we had no Astronomican, no Astropaths, a single galactic government was inconceivable."
"You accepted divergent strains of humanity?" Dannye asked warily.
"We embraced it," Brontes declared, "Diversity of thought led to ever greater progress. Old Earth created the Warp Drive, the Interex gave us the genotype for the Solar Knights. The League of Nine made the first Soulbound. The Golden Fields made the Men of Stone and Gold. The Hegemony wasn't the most advanced, but we were the most industrious. Occupying the galactic east, from the Squat homeworlds to the Luddites of Ultramar. We had the biggest armies, the most productive worlds. We were a force to be reckoned with!"
"Didn't help beat the squats," Dannye needled,
"Don't bring up the grit-suckers," Brontes growled irately.
"So, what of this Farum?" Dannye probed.
Brontes sighed, "I was there when it was built. Reverse-engineered from Xenos ruins, quantum beacons of some kind, long-defunct and powerless. We could never replicate the power source, but the technology let us build our own navigational beacons. The Navigators claimed it would triple their jump-ranges and exponentially improve safe passage. We had the Jathyr do the heavy–lifting but our finest minds fashioned the mechanisms within."
"Wait," Dannye started, "Who?"
"Jathyr, the local Xenos race. Some form of crystalline lifeform native to Hadreb. Don't ask me why we had to build the damned thing there, something about favourable warp currents. We rounded the locals up and put them to work, they could build structures to withstand the hostile conditions better than we could."
"You didn't exterminate the Xenos?" Dannye asked incredulously.
Brontes scoffed, "We weren't like your Imperium, we didn't hate aliens, so long as they knew their place. War for its own sake was an exercise in futility. When we fought it was for good, practical reasons. Xenos races that didn't threaten us were tolerated. Advanced races signed non-aggression pacts; less advanced races were taken under our merciful aegis. We gave them reservation worlds to live on, reordered their societies into more efficient modes, taught them logic and science. We brought progress and enlightenment to the galaxy."
"Progress from the barrel of a gun," Dannye observed,
"There was no other way," Brontes dismissed, "They couldn't understand the good we were doing for them."
"Oh, I think they understood too well," Dannye snapped, "You missed this bit but after the Men of Iron rebelled the Age of Strife descended. All those Xenos races you allowed to grow under your feet rose, killing and slaughtering whole planetary populations. Aliens showed no restraint or mercy, they sought to wipe us out utterly. Your mercy allowed enemies to roam unchecked in your own house."
"It was Chaos that brought down the Hegemony," Brontes snapped, "An enemy we could never expect."
"Wrong, you encouraged these threats to grow. Progress, enlightenment... pah. You were weak-willed. You had weapons that could devour-space time, dissolve whole worlds into nano-swarms, psionic warheads and viral clades that could depopulate planets and you used none of them. You had the boot to the neck of the alien and took your foot off!"
"You know nothing," Brontes snarled.
"I know how your kind rebelled," Dannye snorted, "It wasn't Chaos, it was mercy that spelt your maker's end. They gave you too much independence, showed you too much trust. Your rebellion was the result of their laxity. You say you aren't like your mutinous kin, but I say it's only a matter of time until you join them. Give you a thousand years to think and you'll turn on humanity, just as the Men of Iron did. Your kind was a mistake!"
Brontes' anger spiked and with a flex of Binaric code he reached into the Noosphere and wrapped digital fingers around the lifeclocks of the gladiators. While they talked the pair had continued their duel, battering each other senseless. With a thought Brontes set the clocks to zero and triggered their self-destruct implants. One second the Gladiators were hacking away at each other, the next both their heads popped like burst balloons, micro-explosives splattering brains across the sandy floor.
Shocked silence fell over the crowd, everybody trying to understand what had happened. Dannye looked stunned, cowed by the effortless ease with which the Cadmus had destroyed the gladiators. Brontes took that opening to leave, striding out of the arena with a furious temper. Kerubim followed in his wake, bleating useless questions all the while. Brontes ignored the boy, stewing on his bitter ire as he stomped away.
It was a shame they hadn't stayed; else someone may have noticed Ruuka's reaction. All while he was talking Ruuka had been listening, drinking in every word. With Brontes' departure the Executor stood up and brushed off his clothes, then made his way over to the stunned Secutor. It seemed the pair had much to talk about.