Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 347
"I never thought to witness such a miracle," Rovenator commented.
"The Sangcuitus is indeed a wonder, few can claim to have laid eyes upon it," Aronyx agreed.
"And by blood we are guided," O'leia mused.
"As in all things," Aronyx affirmed.
The Regnator and Centurio stood within the command centre of the Lamentantor, along with the Lady of Hosts, buried deep in the ship's mass where warmth lingered. The Chapter-Barque's bridge had been ripped clean off long before Aronyx's birth, and the secondary bridge was a smashed ruin, but a tertiary back-up had been pressed into service. The chamber was cramped, with a low roof and hundreds of the Host sitting in concentric rings, working flickering consoles that were plagued with malfunctions. The noise of grinding cogitators and chattering crew was intense, the smell of unwashed bodies and poorly wired insulation clogged the nose, but that was secondary to the massive object taking up the centre of the chamber.
Where once a Holopit had resided stood a huge sphere, made of circling brass rings each twice the height of a man. In constant motion the rings swung about each other, creating a dizzying swirl that attracted the eyes. Each ring was inscribed with runes but through the metal pulsed trails of blood, freshly drawn and vital. At its base scores of data-trunks snaked away to the surrounding cogitators, but it was Korinthus who made it function. The Sacredos was strapped into an iron throne, his veins pierced by many fluid lines. Holy blood was drawn from his veins by chugging pumps, forced through the Sangcuitus and then returned to him, after filtration and cleansing. His face was pinched in pain, but he endured, for his task was sacred.
Few had seen the ancient artefact, only the highest ranking and dedicated bridge crews were permitted to lay eyes upon it. Aronyx did not know from where the Sangcuitus hailed, what artificer had first envisioned its arcane mysteries. That did not matter, all that mattered was the device functioned as their compass in the Warp's ever-changing tides, a means to light their way. Lamentantor would not last long if she randomly jumped from system to system, they had to have some means of navigation, and as in all things, blood would lead the way.
"Do we know if we are where we were supposed to be?" Rovenator asked.
"Trust the Sangcuitus," Aronyx chided, "It has never steered us wrong."
"But still, surely there must be some other way to chart a path."
"There are guides and signs, for those with eyes to see. Rare are they though. When I was but a line-brother I heard the Anchorites visited us, with messages of doom."
O'leia turned with a raised eyebrow, "The Anchorites are myths."
"Arent we all?"
"But legend tells they were waiting when Lamentantor escaped the Abyss. They told Regnator Amarra that no Blood Talon would ever see the Imperium again."
Aronyx nodded, "So legend tells, but myth often conceals dark truth. The Anchorites are fickle things, wont to act to their own design. Not to be ignored, but owing favour to no man. Better to trust our own."
A call from a mortal surveyor operator attracted their attention, and the trio wandered over. Lamentantor had left the Warp some minutes previously but the battered cogitators were only now getting their first impressions of local space. They loomed over the console in their armour, but lacking a working Holopit were forced to resort to pict-screens. Aronyx leaned down to stare over the woman's shoulder, while she sweated in nervousness at his proximity. The readouts were clear, they had arrived at their destination. The Sangcuitus slowed now they had left the Warp, pumping blood back into Korinthus though it would be hours before he was fit to rise.
"We are on the outer edge of our destination system," Aronyx proclaimed.
"What do we seek?" Roventor asked, "A good war?"
"Alas no, we need supplies," Aronyx sighed, "This system has been visited before and great salvage has been claimed, but much more remains."
"Salvage, pah! I yearn for battle!"
"As do we all, but suffocating in the void is not a beautiful death. We must endure another day."
"Good wars are becoming fewer and fewer," Rovenator grumbled.
Aronyx privately agreed, but before he could speak a cry of alarm from the mortal drew his eye. Another yelled in dismay, then another, as pict-screens blazed in alarm. Aronyx looked to the display and saw a ship emerging from behind the moon they were orbiting, a huge ship that moved with speed beyond that which its tonnage should allow. Vector-tracks instantly appeared, projecting contact, while secondary displays spewed mass readings and auspex scans. The results were unmistakable and Aronyx's hearts grew cold as he saw what ship that was.
"Naglfar," he breathed.
"Space Wolves here?!" O'leia gasped, "It can't be!"
"But it is, Skoll has found us."
"What do we do?!"
Aronyx lifted his head and bellowed, "Combat alert, all decks, all hands! Power the drives, ready the guns, and raise shields. Bring us the port guns to bear and stand by to engage. All squads are to stand by to repel boarders. Lamentantor is going to give them a fight they won't soon forget!"
The words were bold but Aronyx knew they were hollow. The Chapter-Barque was a ruin, her drives crippled and her guns few. Barely could she sail, let alone fight, while Naglfar was legendary for her speed and ferocity. Even over Stratos they had endeavoured to keep well out of range, counting on the twisted vessel's attention being focused on killing the planet. They had left before the task was done, knowing they could not survive a fight ship to ship.
"How did they find us?" Rovenator snarled.
Aronyx's eyes slid to the Sangcuitus and he wondered if the device had led them astray after all but he said, "It does not matter, Skoll wants our heads and will not stop till he has them."
"We cannot prevent him boarding us?" O'leia gulped.
"No," Aronyx said grimly.
"Then we will die well," Rovenator uttered with pride.
Across the control chamber shouting men and women fought to hold back panic. In a hundred pict-screens the ranges shrank, as Naglfar hurtled into range. Slowly Lamentantor was coming about, presenting her broadsides, but her turn was sluggish, even for a crippled wreck. Drained by her Warp translation the reactors were torpid and the drives slothful. Aronyx doubted they would turn in time, and knew for a fact they could not outrun the hunter. In other circumstances he would have ordered an emergency warp jump, but the drives were depleted, they would not escape this fight. Perhaps that was for the best, a beautiful death may be upon them all.
Naglfar filled the vox waves with howling, as her crew let slip their fury. Aronyx did not respond, standing stoically without fear. His eyes were fixed on the displays, waiting for the vectors to align. Finally the bow came about and he ordered, "Fire!"
A deep rumble pervaded the decks as Lamentantor flung defiance into the void. Macrocannons fired in isolated bursts, added to by a few scattered turbolasers. A pathetic display of wroth, diffuse and poorly timed. A volley from a Chapter-barque should be tenfold as great, but barely a handful of guns still worked. Naglfar's shields shrugged off the barrage, spilling detonations across her bow as the great maw yawned open.
"He's going to eat us!" O'leia cried.
"No," Aronyx sighed, "Skoll will not want this over fast, he will board us and take his time killing us."
"Not if I kill him first!" Rovenator snarled as he brandished his claws.
Brave but futile, dead Regnators whispered in Aronyx's mind. Futile gestures may be all we have, another intoned. Aronyx did not reveal their thoughts, for Naglfar was heaving about. The massive craft rolled in the void, presenting her keel as gravity waves buffeted Lamentantor. The attacker was slowing, seeking to match relative velocities. The drives flared in a pathetic attempt to get away, but the hybrid vessel compensated with ease, then fleshmetal hooks shot from her belly.
Lamentantor shook as hundreds of spikes rammed into her flank, punching through broken armour into the gut. Each hook was trailed by a fleshy tube, linking the two ships, and binding them together. Pressurised air was pumped into the tubes, forcing them to inflate, creating instant boarding bridges, through which the Space Wolves could cross between the vessels. Even now Vanagandyr and the Sons of Garm would be hurtling along, soaring in zero gravity, till they broke into Lamentantor's guts and ended it all.
"They will be on us in three minutes," Aronyx declared.
"Then it is over," O'leia intoned, trying to keep fear at bay.
"Death comes for all, what matters is how we face it."
"Yes of course," O'leia straightened, "I would be honoured to die at your side my Regnator."
"And I you," Aronyx affirmed, "Come my Lady of Hosts, let us seek our deaths with pride."
Aronyx fully intended to do exactly that, but then fresh wave of alarm broke out among the bridge crew. The Regnator froze, for displayed within a hundred pict-screens a new contact blazed. A massive wedge of metal had appeared from nowhere, in open space, without Warp translation or drive emission. It loomed off the port bow, with the Naglfar sitting between them. The Cogitators could barely scan the object, so huge was it, and estimates of its size kept going up and up. Fifty kilometres wide, sixty, eighty, a hundred end to end. It radiated power unlike anything Lamentantor had produced in memory, a star-fortress the size of a moon, appearing from nowhere.
"Angel's tears!" Rovenator started, "What is that behemoth?!"
"Where did it come from?!" O'leia gasped, "It didn't translate... some sort of stealth?"
"I... have no answers," Aronyx whispered.
A mortal cried aloud, "Auspex sweep, we're being scanned!"
"Vox challenge incoming. It's... it's an Imperial code!"
O'leia blinked, "Imperial? Nobody's used that in generations."
"It's older code, but it checks out."
"Push the traditional reply," Aronyx barked, "Whoever's out there, they must be human!"
Seconds passed then a vox-operator called, "They say to stand by, aid is coming."
"Aid from who?!" Rovenator snarled.
It didn't seem to matter. The mysterious fortress lit up, as gundecks kilometres long thundered. Wave after wave of ranked batteries spewed macroshells, turbolaser, plasma, missiles and grav. The rolling broadside was greater than anything Aronyx had ever seen, and all of it fell on Naglfar's spine. Shields withered, barely holding together in the onslaught, then they failed. Instantly lance arrays shot from the enigmatic intruder, carving bloody funnels into the back of the Hive ship. Ichor flowed and hundreds of thrashing corpses were blown into the void, as the hybrid ship wailed in dismay.
Lamentantor had been shielded by the bulk of the foe, but the outgassing forced them both into a roll. The pair circled around their centre of gravity, as boarding tubes stretched to the limit. A few snapped, dropping hated foes into the void, but not enough. Aronyx knew the veiled voyager could not fire again without hitting the Chapter-Barque, but they had other ideas.
A second contact was breaking away, leaving a drydock with drives flaring. A ship, nearly as big as Lamenantor but in a far better state of repair. She hit the vacuum at full sail, tearing across the distance like an arrow sprung from the bow. Straight into the fight, her hammerhead prow spilling wisps of atmosphere from her hasty embarkation. Aronyx scoured the readouts, taking in the ship's lines and power curves and his hearts nearly stopped. Dead Regnators whispered a name in his mind, but he could scarce believe it. This could not be, it was unthinkable, but the auspex did not lie. She was back from the dead, a sister-ship thought lost for generations.
"The Angel's Revenge," Aronyx breathed in disbelief.
"It can't be," Rovenator gasped, "It can't be."
"But it is," Aronyx confirmed,
O'leia sounded equally dumbfounded, "A Blood Talons ship, but how?!"
"Could it be we are not the last?" Rovenator exclaimed.
"No, we are the last, we have to be... if not... all we thought was wrong," Aronyx gasped as his head spun with possibilities.
In the readout the Angel's Revenge barrelled into range, her prow pointed straight at the pair of grappling ships. She did not heave about to present her guns, instead ordnance tubes rolled open, revealing the drill-heads of boarding torpedoes. They launched in sequence, flying away from their mothership on trails of plasma wash. A vast hanger yawned open as flights of gunships took off, chasing the hurtling missiles, more craft than Aronyx had seen in flight during his lifetime. Such might, such heart-stopping power, by the Great Angel, it was glorious.
His elation was brought to a crashing halt as vox-operator called, "Signal incoming, Someone calling themselves Chapter Mater Coluber says he's moving to repel our boarders. The Amber Vipers are coming to our aid."
Utter confusion stole over Aronyx as he yelped, "Amber Vipers, who the hell are they and what are they doing with our ship?!"
