Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 317
Kazao looked upon the vehicles with trepidation. In a remote garage they brooded, lurking patiently like a hunter stalking prey. It was strange how inanimate objects could display character, but Kazao had been taught that the Machine Spirits within were more than gears and circuits, they were living things in their own right. Gifts from the Omnissiah, the anima of any machine was a mystery no man could grasp. Looking upon these tanks Kazao could believe it, they oozed menace, their sleek angles radiating hostility and their targeting lenses hungry. Bahamat, Scorpus and Blood Talon, relocated to a testing range to awaiting drivers.
Reddam was stepping around the Predator and declared, "Scorpus."
Nathanal was a step behind and informed him, "Castabore ministered to its spirit and soothed its aliment. The Laser Destroyer is aligned, the Phosphor blasters cleared for use, the tank's spirit is eager to go."
"We'll be the judge of that," Reddam scoffed as he planted his spear, "Tebes you drive, Joffel you be the commander and gunner."
"Frak yes!" Joffel cried elatedly as the pair moved to mount the tank. Tebes squeezed into the driver's seat, his backpack clanging as he tried to manoeuvre into the narrow confines. He eventually managed it and dropped inside, his head disappearing as the hatch slammed closed. Joffel scrambled over the turret and did the same, sitting in the top seat. His joy was plain, and he was eager to test the tank's capabilities as he stuck his head out.
Larus leaned over to the Sergeant, "I mean no disrespect, but do you truly want Joffel in charge of a tank?"
Reddam whispered back, "Better that than having Tebes stick his head out in the open. He's a bullet magnet, he'll have his head removed by a sniper the first time we go into battle."
"Why can't he drive you around and I command?"
"Because you drove an attack bike, you're used to handling awkward masses and I want the best with me."
Kazao turned his attention to their chosen steed. Bahamat sat glowering, its targeting optics radiating hatred. The Omega Sicaran seemed top-heavy, laden by a pair of massive plasma Carronades flanking the turret. Yet at the same time it seemed sleek and swift, ready to pounce. It was bound by many heavy chains, and fearful chattels, whom seemed wary of closing. Kazao thought he was crazy but there was a faint aura of smugness over Bahamat, as if the tank was pleased by the terror it engendered.
Nathanal crept up, "You're sure about this?"
"It's why we came here," Reddam declared.
Larus muttered, "We've driven bikes, Vultures, Wraths and Rhinos, but none of them compare to this."
Kazao dared to ask, "This machine came from the Howling Griffons, will its spirit not be offended by being tasked to kill its former brothers?"
"I wouldn't worry on that regard," Nathanal grumbled, "Its memory is long and dark. Castabore spoke of seeing visions of the Heresy Wars in its dreams. Bahamat is accustomed to killing former Brothers."
"It was traumatised by those days?"
"It misses them," Nathanal muttered.
"There's no point talking about this, mount up!" Reddam ordered. Kazao closed warily, as if Bahamat would snap at him. Reddam placed a boot on an indentation on the glacis plate and boosted himself up, while Larus followed diligently. Kazao went last, climbing between the lengthy plasma weapons and found the turret between them a mass of reinforced energy cables and capacitors. Plasma weapons were fuelled by special casks, but the turret would be turned by the tanks' engine power. It was remarkable that so small a power plant as the Sicaran's could handle such weighty weapons, let alone provide motive power to the tracks, but it did so. A testament to the lost sciences of the ancients.
Reddam moved to the narrow top hatch and tried to lever his spear inside, "Come on, how do you do this?"
"Perhaps you should leave the spear?" Kazao suggested.
"Over my dead body, it will fit, I just have to…" Reddam growled and then it managed to find the right angle and dropped the spear within. The Sergeant then dropped in after, disappearing into the interior. Kazao followed next, bracing his hands as he lowered his feet inside, the backpack was harder to negotiate but Kazao managed and dropped onto a gunner's seat. He found the control levers ready to grip, easy enough to manage but his view was obscured by the twin barrels flanking his head.
"I can't see anything," Kazao protested, "And how will you command from down there?"
From the interior below Reddam called, "Link your autosenses to the tank's spirit, you can see through its optics. I can see better from down here than you can sticking your head out."
Kazao did as bid and his armour's autosenses linked to Bahamat. The Plasma Carronades became wireframe outlines in his vision, as the tank's eyes saw his surroundings for him. Chattels around the flanks began spraying the tracks with sacred unguents as a mostly-augmetic cleric read aloud soothing Binaric litanies, placating the tank's spirit. Kazao found it a tight fit but the armoured cocoon was reassuring, he only hoped he didn't have to bail out, exiting in a hurry would be challenging, doubly so if he was on fire at the time.
Nathanal called up, "We've set up a test track, straight ahead. It's makeshift but you can get a feel for the guns. Just try not to hit anything else, we hadn't time to set up proper baffles."
"We don't miss," Joffel called from Scorpus.
"Stow the chatter," Reddam called via the vox, "Bahamat goes first, Scorpus second. I'll handle the sponson guns, the Machine Spirit could do it, but there's no substitute for a real gunner. Kazao, shoot straight, Larus start the engine."
"Awaken blessed machine, awaken and bring war to the enemies of Man," Larus intoned solemnly then started the engine. A wild vibration shook Kazao's teeth as the engine ignited with an eager roar. Plumes of dirty smoke shot out of the exhausts as the engine cleared centuries of dust but then burned clean with the acrid tang of high-grade Promethium fuel being ignited. Kazao armed the weapon systems and instantly power started feeding into the weapon capacitors, at an impressive rate, and the turret twitched. Kazao gingerly pulled on a lever and was startled as the whole turret slammed right, spinning at a rate he wouldn't have believed. A twitch left and the turret swung hard, passing the front point before he knew it.
"Quit jerking about!" Reddam barked from somewhere below Kazao's arse.
"I'm barely touching the levers," Kazao protested, "The Machine Spirit is too responsive."
"Adapt and adjust," Reddam hissed, "We'll not have time for a second run. Larus, as soon as we're clear move to the test track."
Chattels gingerly unchained the tank and retreated, leaving a clear run ahead. Kazao was thrown bodily backwards as Larus pushed the tank into motion. The engine roared and tracks spun as Bahamat leapt from confinement, accelerating at a rate that a Land Speeder wouldn't have been shamed by. Kazao forced himself forward and gripped the firing levers, as the tank juddered about him. Every inch of the Tank's hull was vibrating, the throaty snarl of the engine shaking his bones with subsonic timbres. Bahamat yearned to be free, it hungered to kill, and its relish wrapped Kazao in an aura of anticipation.
The walls blurred past as Bahamat hit top speed, hurtling towards the test track. Kazao was enthralled, the speed of a Sicaran mesmerising, the eager power thrilling. For a moment he forgot the ache at the back of his throat, the thirst for blood that haunted his every thought. His urges were drowned out by the exhilaration of the ride, may it last forever.
In seconds Bahamat had reached the test track, a simple horseshoe range set up at the end of the garage. Typically used to store vehicles awaiting disassembly, the Chattels had cleared the space and set up rows of Servitors, holding wooden targets on long poles. Kazao gripped the firing levers as they approached and lined up on the first. His autosenses painted a targeting reticule over his eyes and he lined it up, then squeezed the triggers hard.
Bright bolts spat from the twin barrels in a stream, fast and vicious, one would have been enough but Bahamat spoke fury and the salvo obliterated the Servitor into ashes. Kazao was stunned but the next was coming up and he twisted the levers. The turret snapped about with bone-breaking force and Kazao brushed the trigger again. This time the bolts were singular and the wooden target was vaporised and the next few in quick sequence. Kazao was pleased but a sense of disappointment radiated from the tank, Bahamat didn't like holding back.
Halfway around and a score of targets destroyed then Reddam called, "Hold the plasma, I'll test the heavy bolters." Larus turned hard, throwing Kazao sideways into the hatch, as Bahamat skidded around the turn at a rate no tracked vehicle should ever achieve. Back the way they came and the sponson guns spoke, three heavy bolters spitting mass-reactives at the targets. Kazao took his hands off the levers and sat back to watch. The speed they covered the track was amazing but Reddam's aim was perfect and with short bursts he obliterated every target.
From the test track they sped, heading back to the waiting chattels as Larus crowed, "That was fast!"
"Ryneon's going to be in for a nasty surprise," Kazao agreed.
"A good run, but not perfect," Reddam chided, "Watch your overkill, we don't want wasted shots."
Larus slowed as they approached the crowd. Bahamat coasted in, and Kazao saw Joffel and Tebes set off on their own run. Scorpus was slower, which was good as the servitors would need a moment to raise new targets. Kazao was about to call out their tally in jest but then Bahamat unexpectedly veered sideways. A track seized for an instant and the Sicaran pivoted hard into the crowd. Kazao was thrown about as Larus wrestled with the levers and brought the tank to a halt with a lurch.
Kazao's head reeled as ringing drowned his ears, and then he realised it wasn't tinnitus; it was screaming, mortal screams. He twisted about and his autosenses painted a picture of a dozen men laid out on the floor, bleeding from vicious rents where the tank's hull had ploughed through them. More men thrashed about with broken legs and knees while one lay crushed, his chest a hollow cavity where the tank had run over him. Kazao was annoyed by their wailing, mortal lives were short and cheap, to be expended at the Chapter's whim. They should be glad to give their lives to strengthen the Amber Vipers. At the very least couldn't they die quietly?
"What was that?!" Reddam barked.
"It wasn't me!" Larus protested, "The left track seized on its own."
"Tracks don't just seize and clear!" Reddam barked.
"Bahamat's does," Larus argued, "I think the tank's spirit wasn't satisfied by servitor targets, it wanted real blood."
Nathanal stomped past the wailing mortals, as medicaes rushed to tend the wounded, "I told you Bahamat's spirit was twisted! The damned thing is jinked!"
"Jinked or not, we need its power," Reddam sighed, "Let us trust Bahamat will show the same bloodlust to the Howling Griffons."
"On your head be it," Nathanal snapped.
"So be it," Reddam agreed, "Kazao, let me out."
Kazao responded, climbing out of the tank's hatch. Reddam wriggled out and pulled his spear with him, as Larus exited the driver's hatch. Kazao looked upon a ring of ruined bodies surrounding the tracks, and knew Bahamat had done this on purpose. The Sicaran was more than resentful, it was malevolent, and yet in its violent nature he found kinship. Bahamat's thirst for destruction set even his own bloodthirst to shame.
Reddam looked about the scene of carnage and sighed, "Not the best start, but we have no choice save to press on."
"I think it's just what we need," Kazao affirmed.
"What about the Mastodon?" Larus asked.
"Pardon?"
"The Mastodon, Blood Talon, perhaps that would be a better choice," Larus proposed.
"Alas it is spoken for!" Came a loud mechanical voice. Kazao turned his helm and saw Maru Kysoto striding forward, leading a squad of warriors into the garage. Tall warriors, Primaris tall, the Soul Drinkers. Among their number was Chaplain Daggon, limping on one leg as a Brother supported him. That he deigned to allow such a thing spoke to his dire condition. Without a leg he shouldn't be standing, let alone moving.
"What is this farce?" Daggon growled.
"An accident," Reddam answered.
Maru replied, "Woe unto he who disrespects the Machine Spirits. But Daggon, I said you would fight, and so you shall."
"I cannot fight with one leg, and fitting an augmetic will take days!" Daggon spat.
"But the Mastodon is commanded from the seated position," Maru argued.
Daggon looked up at the looming flanks of the Mastodon, bristling with armour and guns. Kazao saw the realisation steal over him. The Chaplain didn't need to stand to direct the transport, and its twin decks were large enough for his whole squad. From there he could join the fight, at range true, but better than laying on a med-slab waiting for a new leg.
"What are you waiting for?" Daggon snapped, "Get me up there!"
"Familiarise yourself quickly," Maru urged, "Battle will be joined within the hour."
The Soul Drinkers hurried through the clamshell hatch and disappeared into the interior. Kazao knew they would swiftly prepare, Blood Talon had a spirit more accommodating than Bahamat's. Maru stepped near the ring of groaning mortals and asked, "Problems?"
"Only if you're foolish enough to stand in front of a Sicaran," Reddam scoffed.
"Machine Spirits are fickle, even ritual approbations are not always enough," Maru warned.
"I know, but that fury will be needed before this is done," Reddam sighed, "If this is how Bahamat treats its attendants, I shudder to imagine what it will do to our enemies."