Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 252
Kerubim looked over the wreckage of a campsite, taking in total devastation. Everywhere lay burnt tents and broken machines, piled up in heaps around stacked corpses. He saw the marks of las-burns upon the bodies, showing they had been cut down by hostile forces, not that any more evidence was needed. Servitors had been culled in droves, their mechanisms fused and organics charred while Cogitators lay smoking, their innards still aflame. The conclusion was inescapable, Ruuka had been ambushed in this place, and not too long ago.
"We're in the right place at least," Kerubim declared.
"Obviously fleshbag," Brontes snorted, "The question is, did he and the other traitors die here?"
"We cannae be so lucky," Wulfe grunted, "He got away, I can smell it."
"Don't jest about that," Jordig snapped, "We need to be sure, spread out and search this site."
The others agreed and moved into the camp, checking the bodies for signs of the missing traitors. Kerubim took off his helm, letting his altered eyes search for traces of Motive Force but found nothing save residual energy flares in dying pict-screens. The wind however scoured his nerves, changed flesh picking up every puff of air, bringing with it the scents of salt and blood. Particles of salt clung to his face and were already covering the ruin of the camp. In time all of this would be buried, every trace of the battle scoured from Cippum as if it had never been.
Kerubim took a moment to glance backwards, where Pycelo was supervising teams of Skitarii disembarking from landing boats. Zar-Quaesitor had a sizeable Skitarii garrison but deploying such a force would take time, even with Mechanicus efficiency that process could only go so fast, and the delay chafed at his nerves. If Ruuka was ahead of them then every moment of delay would cost them dear.
To distract himself he focused on his search, turning over bodies one by one. He found many murdered crewmen, their faces pictures of dismay and fear. They had died quickly, cut apart by vicious energy weapons, a troubling prospect. Kerubim wondered what could have done this, if it had been the Hungering they were already too late. He dreaded that prospect, but told himself there was yet time, there had to be, else all was lost.
"I don't think we're going to find Ruuka in this mess," he said, "Must have pressed on to seek the prize."
"Don't make assumptions," Jordig admonished, "We don't have enough facts to recreate these events."
"Surely a Nanoswarm wouldn't shoot people in the back like this."
"I have no experience with such Heretek technology," Jordig stated, "Yet I find it concerning whoever killed these people took the time to stack the bodies in neatly organised piles. That sounds like machine thinking to me."
Suddenly a cry went up, "We bloody found something!" Kerubim's head came up and he saw Wulfe waving them over. He dropped the body he was holding and hurried to the Squat, finding himself approaching a steep sided pit. Particles of salt crunched under his feet as he closed, fused into glass by las-fire but the wind had not pulled enough grit to bury this. At the bottom of the pit was a scorched roof, blasted open to reveal a dark drop below. The edge had a melting effect to them, molten stone dripping into the depths as it cooled into its present shape, the distinctive mark of Melta-bombs.
"Looks like we found where Ruuka went next," Kerubim sighed.
"That is an assumption," Jordig stated.
"Oh, take the stick outta ye arse," Wulfe snorted, "It be bloody obvious where the greasy gobshite has run off ta."
A heavy tread announced Brontes closing and the Cadmus declared, "He's right, Ruuka went in there and his fellow traitors."
"Then we better get in after him," Kerubim declared boldly.
"We can't" Brontes stated.
"Why not?"
"Because we're about to be attacked."
Kerubim spun about, Adrathic rifle in hand as he searched for threats. He saw nothing, no motion, no flickers of energy on the breeze. He swung his rifle to and fro as he called, "I see nothing."
"Seismic sensors don't lie," Brontes stated, "They're approaching from underground."
Jordig drew his plasma-sabre as he voxed, "Magos Pycelo, be alert for incoming hostile forces, subterranean approach."
"Understood," Pycelo replied, "Deploying defensive perimeter."
Kerubim trusted the Skitarii would react with customary efficiency but said, "Are we ready for this?"
Wulfe snorted, "Bring it on, I wannae break some heads this day!"
Kerubim drew in a breath to reply but then felt the faintest tremor under his boots. He gripped his rifle tight and waited for the foe to reveal themselves, awareness honed to a razor's edge. Still when the attack came it nearly took him by surprise. Salt ground near to them exploded upwards, showering grit high as something clawed its way from under the dirt. He was forced to blink to avoid grit getting in his eyes but spied a rounded shell on three ball-wheels forcing its way up, shaking like a wet mastiff. A multi-laser spun to target him but then a crackling red ball of energy smote it, punching into its innards with a shower of radioactive particles.
Kerubim knew Brontes had claimed the first kill, but there was no shortage of targets, for more machines were breaking out of the ground. Across the camp scores of hostiles killing-machines emerged, setting to with a furious barrage of fire. Kerubim dropped to one knee as a hail of las came his way, mostly aimed for his exposed head. He saw a tall contraption with four spindly legs and underslung weapons skitter into view and a moment later he struck it with a ray of Adrathic power. Two of the legs glowed for an instant, then disintegrated, leaving glowing afterimages in their wake. The device toppled over, thrashing wildly but unable to stand, Kerubim had claimed his first kill, but there were plenty more foes to choose from.
Another three ball-wheeled construct came at him, Multi-las sparking. He felt his armour soaking up hits, the new plate indomitable in spirit. He trusted his armour to hold as he swung his rifle about, bringing the squared end to bear. For a moment he had a clear view of the device, seeing Motive Force flowing through its being. It was a marvel of complex circuitry and arcane mechanisms, and yet he saw no glittering matrix of artificial force, no Abominable Intelligence within. Instead lines of communicative data flowed from it, a stream of information and commands wrapping it in a constellation of vox.
A moment later his Adrathic Rifle disintegrated the machine but he called, "These things have no brains!"
"They're auto-defence drones!" Brontes yelled, "Guided from afar by a core intelligence."
"The Hungering sends mindless drones against us?!" Jordig barked incredulously.
"This isn't the Hungering you wet-nosed mongrel!" Brontes roared, "It's the hungering's jailor!"
A surge of Automatons came right at them and Kerubim was forced to hit the dirt as a torrent of las streamed overhead, more than his plate could hope to withstand. Yet Brontes was not so dismayed. The Cadmus advanced into the thick of the fire, las pinging across his broad armour plates. His Fission-blasters discharged, blowing a pair of robots to bits, then another pair and another. Rad-counters began clicking in Kerubim's ears but the had Cadmus blunted the charge and bought his comrades time to regroup.
First into the fray was Wulfe, the Rotundus' gravity hammer swinging. He struck a ball-wheeled contraption and the machine imploded, armour crumpling into itself as grav-sheer compacted it into a sphere as small as a man's fist. A tall device had its innards shredded by an upwards thrust, and another was crushed into a tiny ball, leaving its legs sticking out of a tiny snarl of wreckage. A ball-wheeled-contraption shot him in the back but Wulfe didn't stumble, merely swinging about to level the head of his hammer and unleash a blast that folded the machine into itself. Wulfe was a one-man wrecking crew, destroying anything that dared come against him with scornful disdain.
Jordig's attack by comparison was a blur of light. He charged into the fray, plasma-sabre describing patterns of blue in the air. He chopped the legs off a tall construct and left it to writhe in his wake. A ball-wheeled device was speared through the centre by a lateral thrust, leaving an oozing wound bored straight through it. A flurry of las-shots was expertly side-stepped, almost as if he had known it was coming before the shots were fired. In return he swung high, cleaving a gangly machine in twain, letting its two halves drop away like a clamshell opening. Jordig moved with swift grace, always attacking, never relenting. His fury in battle a stark contrast to his customary stoicism.
Kerubim followed in their wake, picking off strays and finishing wounded machines with short bursts of Adrathic fire. They were ploughing into the oncoming drones like an aquatic ship breaking through waves, casting aside anything that dare oppose them. Then they found sterner resistance. From ahead charged a heavy automaton, squat and broad but with heavily overbuilt arms and a rounded head. It seemed some simian brute from a primal world, an ape charging an intrepid band of explorers, and its mouth-grille let loose a hissing snarl of fury.
"This one is mine!" Brontes barked as he stepped to meet the construct. Kerubim had no time to call out before they slammed together, fists swinging. They met in a furious exchange of blows, metal fists driving into armoured plates with the noise of bells ringing. Kerubim had never seen anything survive more than one or two blows from the Cadmus robot but to his shock the gorilla-construct barely felt the impacts, its rounded chest denting but not breaking under the violent touch of disruption-wreathed fists. In return it slammed its hands down on Brontes' armoured cowl, trying to shatter his sensor-dome head. The cowl dented and Brontes' staggered, as the gorilla-construct lifted both fists high like pile-drivers waiting to fall.
Kerubim's breath caught but then Brontes' right fist went low, hitting the machine in the gut. The gorilla-construct doubled over, only to find Brontes' left rising to meet its chin. Metal face met metal fist and folded in inwards, reducing its visage to a crater. The machine wasn't killed by the blow but it reeled back, blinded without optic sensors.
Brontes didn't give it a chance to recover, hitting it with a roundhouse blow that make it spin. Quick as a flash his hand caught its wrist, holding the left arm in a grip that would have dislocated a mortal man. The machine flailed wild but Brontes slammed his other hand against its flank and then heaved. The whole arm ripped free in a shower of sparks, tossed away like a spent ration-can. The gorilla-construct swung blindly with the other arm but Brontes pinned it with an open palm, then scythed it off at the shoulder with a downwards blow of his other hand. The gorilla-construct was left armless and vulnerable, when he put it down with a Fission-blast to the heart it was almost a pathetic conclusion to the fight.
With the heavy-hitter disposed of the rest of the drones were easy work and soon were reduced to wreckage. Wulfe snorted, "Next time, just bloody shoot it at the start instead a' mucking about."
Brontes sniffed, "Been some time since I enjoyed a real fight."
"Don't pat yourself on the back too soon," Jordig exclaimed, "Seismic augurs are picking up another wave, it's massive!"
"Where…" Kerubim called only to be answered by a rumbling grind of earth shifting, then an explosion of salt at the camp's edge as something erupted into the light of day, something huge. Kerubim's jaw fell as a vehicle arose in a cloud of grit, blasting particles away with downdraft. It rose on a cloud of anti-grav, propulsion thrashing the ground with esoteric force. A double-prow cut the air at its fore, while bulky thrusters dominated the rear. Located behind the prow rose a torso, as tall and broad as a Knight walker and layered in armour plating. Its left arm was a grotesquely oversized Fission-blaster, while its right was a nine-tailed whip wreathed in disruption fields. Its head was a many-eyed sensor dome, fitted under an armoured cowl nearly identical to Brontes' in shape, if not in scale. It resembled a mutant Centyr, with anti-grav propulsors instead of legs and it dominated the smaller drones entirely, a controlling intelligence, steering their actions like a huntsman does coursing hounds.
"No, it can't be," Brontes wheezed, "He's dead, they told me he was dead."
Kerubim couldn't look away as he gasped, "Brontes, you know that thing, it's a Cadmus like you?"
"No, not like me," Brontes snarled, "It's worse, it's Polydorus."