"…and so the Ork fleet is all but wiped out, Master," said Kaltharus.
"Good work, Captain," replied Selarus. "Something seems to have happened to the Orks all over the planet – they've stopped working together. They're acting like… Orks. There's none of the usual coordination of a Waaagh! It's as though the Warboss in charge has lost control. Anyway, the result is that it's been reduced to a mop-up operation. In fact, General Folgrada of the Cadian 475th has informed us that our assistance will not be required. All of the Vipers are going to assemble in Tarnegris – we will arrive in a few minutes."
"Very well, Master Selarus. We await your arrival."
"As though he had lost control?" commented the cloaked figure. "You are to be commended on your acting skills, Master Selarus."
"You do not appreciate the delicacy of the situation?" replied Selarus with a bite of irritation. There was a jolt as the Thunderhawk crossed a patch of turbulence.
"On the contrary," the other assured him. "I appreciate it fully."
"Your flippancy causes me to doubt that. This must be handled with care – how many join us will be based on the situation."
"You know best, I'm sure. I would not dream of claiming knowledge of the minds of your Marines."
Tarnegris appeared in the viewport of the gunship, and the craft moved in a lazy arc to meet the landing pads of the hive city.
"Remember, don't appear until I give the signal," snarled Selarus.
"But of course," the other replied as the ship touched down.
Selarus stepped out from the Thunderhawk, and nodded to the Marines awaiting him.
"Welcome to Tarnegris, Master," said one. "Orders?"
"Call a meeting of the Chapter in the central Cathedral."
"As you wish, Master."
"You are about to witness something that few have seen," said Kaltharus as he and the Inquisitor moved towards the Cathedral. "Master Selarus has given you permission to join us in our final prayers to the Emperor on this world. You will now see that all the rumours of 'vipersong' are in fact true."
Torlus nodded, trying to appear nonchalant. "What does it involve?"
"You'll see. For the moment, let me say that as Torzian told me you suspected, our Betcher's gland has a curious side-effect – at will, it can alter our speech patterns to something serpentine in nature."
The doors to the Cathedral opened, and Torlus savoured the sight of the full chapter assembled, kneeling facing the great imperial Aquila that dominated it.
Kaltharus took his place at the head of the third company, and Torlus chose to kneel next to him.
Selarus stood and approached the Aquila. A strange hiss came from his lips.
The call was echoed through the Cathedral.
Again, the Chapter Master hissed. It meant nothing to Torlus, but he caught the word 'Imperia'. Again, the marines repeated his words.
More hissing words came from Selarus' lips. There was an abrupt discord, as though something were out of place, but again the words were repeated.
The tone of the words changed. There was dead silence.
Selarus paused, and then spoke four words in High Gothic. "Sum fidelis magna Basiliska.".
"What is this heresy, Selarus?" said Kaltharus quietly.
Torlus stared as every marine in the Cathedral rose to his feet, steely eyes focussed on the Chapter Master.
"The Imperium is over, captain," said Selarus quietly. "Look around you! You saw our power against the Orks! We deserve more than we get. We wiped out the Ork resistance, aided the Navy in wiping out the enemy fleet, and now the Cadian whelps 'no longer require' us. We are Space Marines! We are born to fight, and to lead the battlefield!"
"If the wars were to end tomorrow, with the galaxy bathed in the Emperor's light, I would be happy," replied Kaltharus. "You are wrong. We were born men. It is our purpose to serve Him for whatever He should need us for. For the moment, He calls us to fight and die in His service. But should we no longer be needed to do that, I would be happy."
Selarus smiled. "Your loyalty is touching, captain. But how many of us here can say that they have not wished for more than they have? We fight endless battles at the Imperium's command, and what thanks do we get? We are told we are 'surplus to requirements'. The Inquisition sends their lackeys to investigate us to make sure that we don't try anything clever. We get no thanks. We are taken for granted."
"So what if we are taken for granted?" challenged Kaltharus. "You have chosen blasphemy as your course, and none will follow you into your damnation."
"Really? Come, my warriors," said Selarus, his voice suddenly booming across the Cathedral. "Am I alone in my thoughts? Am I alone in believing that we, of all people, deserve rewards to match our superhuman status? Am I alone in thinking as we stood alongside the PDFs today that one of us is worth a hundred of them? Am I alone in thinking that we should go forth and make a name for ourselves, going against the Imperium if it cannot give us what we want?"
There was silence for a moment.
And then Selarus' personal guard moved forward, and stood with him.
Kaltharus was about to say something scathing about the overwhelming response, when more began moving forward.
It was like an avalanche. He slowly backed away, followed by Torlus, staring in growing horror at the mass of Space Marines.
It finally stopped. All that was left was Kaltharus himself, Medasclo of the 10th company, Dethralli of the 5th company, and about three companies-worth of marines, mostly from the 2nd, 5th and 10th.
A slow handclap sounded from upper walkways of the Cathedral, and a hooded figure descended a ladder to come out next to Selarus.
"My congratulations, Master Selarus," it commented. The Sorcerer threw back his hood, and twirled the Ether Lance in the general direction of the loyalists. "What do you intend to do with those lackeys?"
"Men of the Emerald Vipers, may I introduce Filorian, Sorcerer and warlord of the Thousand Sons. It is thanks to his destruction of the Ork Warboss that the Xenos onslaught was ceased, and it is with his help that we will annihilate the Imperial scum that remains in the system." Selarus turned to pathetic remnants that stood against him. "No doubt my new associate would prefer me to destroy you, but in honour of the fact that we once stood together as Vipers, I will allow you to leave us. For ten minutes, no true Viper will raise their hand against you. From there, you will be considered our enemies, and will be destroyed without compunction."
"This is not over, Selarus," said Kaltharus quietly. "The Imperium will inflict the Emperor's wrath on you. You will not survive the week, with the forces arrayed against you."
The traitorous Chapter Master merely smirked. "The so-called Traitor Legions have survived for ten thousand years. I doubt that you have any hope of destroying us."
The Loyalists left the cathedral without another word.
"Admiral Vanardis! A Desolator-class battleship is translating from warp space on our port bow!"
Vanardis moved fast to the porthole, and swore. The monstrous vessel bore the twisted icons of Chaos, with a massive blue twisted crescent dominating the prow.
"All ahead full!" he barked. "Call up the rest of the fleet, inform them that a Chaos warship has entered the system!"
"Sir, the Viper warfleet is reconfiguring. It's almost like… they're cutting the others off from us!"
"What in the name of –" the Admiral began.
The Tzeentchi warship opened fire.
The already battered Imperator Magnus shook from stem to stern as the massive lance batteries of the traitor vessel tore into its hull. Massive rents in the hull spilled air and crew into the depths of space, some to die cleanly by incineration as more lance fire poured in, others more slowly.
The bridge's lights flickered and died as power all over the mighty Retribution-class fluctuated.
Vanardis looked towards the planet, towards the reinforcements, as stared in horror. Flashes of light were visible between the golden-hulled ships of Solaris and the green shapes of the Vipers.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
"Admiral, we're drifting. All power has been lost. It looks like the Desolator is preparing to board."
"Detonate the plasma drives," said Vanardis tightly. "They won't take this ship intact."
"I'm sorry, Admiral. Plasma reactors are offline. There's nothing left to detonate."
Imperator Magnus juddered as contact was made between the two massive ships. Naval troopers wielding shotguns and autorifles lined up, aiming at the bridge doors.
"Admiral, they're penetrated this level. They'll be on us any second."
There was dead silence. Vanardis slowly drew his bolt pistol, and readied himself.
With a tortured rending sound, the doors seemed to melt and fall apart. Behind them, five huge figures stood.
Nobody moved.
The lead Traitor Marine raised a hand, and said one word. "Kill."
Bolter fire ripped into the naval troopers even as they opened up with their own weapons. Shotgun pellets rattled harmlessly off the power armour, and even the shots that hacked holes into the reinforced metal seemed to have no effect. Red haze emerged from the wounds, but the Rubric troopers made no other reaction, cutting down their foe with a relentless air.
Vanardis' pistol joined the orgy of death, bolts smashing into the leader. Blasts of power streaked from the Marine's hand in response.
The Admiral's last sight as his body corrupted itself under the full fury of the Great Changer was the last of his men being shot down.
"Master Selarus. The Eye of Tzeentch reports that the Imperial flagship is ours, although it will require significant repairs."
Selarus looked at the Sorcerer with unveiled contempt. "I made it clear that I wanted the Battlefleet intact. A Retribution-class battleship is a prize worth having intact."
Filorian's cool slipped for a moment. "Without my forces you would still be mopping up the Ork scum. Without me, your precious Vipers would be destroyed by the Imperials. Don't forget that. You owe me."
The Viper Chapter Master ignored the outburst. "Vipers!" he called. "Our ex-battle brothers have had their head start. Move out. Destroy all in your path. The Basilisk must be appeased."
The Thousand Sons sorcerer looked puzzled for a moment. "The Basilisk?"
"The one we now serve," Selarus replied haughtily.
Filorian's mouth twisted into a sneer. "A snake? You would serve Slaanesh? The Prince of Excess cannot offer you what you deserve."
Selarus looked the sorcerer in the eye directly for the first time. "For all the graces the Lord of Fate has given you, sorcerer, you still do not comprehend what you have set in motion. In time, you will understand. Go forth and kill, my brothers!"
In the short time that he had known Kaltharus, Torlus had always detected a faint amiability in the captain. It had vanished, and what was left scared the Inquisitor.
"We have to warn the rest of the Imperium," Medasclo said tersely. "With the support of a Traitor Legion, the Imperial Guard will be slaughtered."
"Returning to the ships is also a priority," commented Dethralli. "Every Viper came down to that chapel; miracle that they all fitted in, really. The thralls and servitors left will follow all orders given. No doubt those traitors will order them to attack Solaris."
"Then we have a problem," Medasclo said mournfully. "We can get three Strike Cruisers operational at most; the others will be under the direct control of the traitors' command codes. Add in any vessels commanded by that sorcerer…"
"Silence," said Kaltharus coldly. "We all know the odds."
Medasclo looked ready to make an angry retort, and then bit it off. "You are right, of course."
"My Inquisitorial access might be able to override the command codes on the other ships in orbit," said Torlus softly.
"No. Your authority does not extend to our equipment," said Dethralli.
There was a whine of engines, and a Thunderhawk shrieked into the air behind them.
"I might have guessed the cunning bastard that he'd bring his 'hawk right up to the chapel," said Kaltharus bitterly. "We need to be ready by the time we reach the other gunships. Dethralli, take the 5th and get the ships. Rescue what's left of Solaris if you can, but priority is getting out of the system and getting reinforcements. Medasclo, the rest of us will stay here and help the Cadians. They'll need it."
"Wait, who died and put you in charge?" objected Dethralli.
Kaltharus slowly turned and looked his fellow Captain straight in the eye. "The Emerald Vipers. As of now, the Vipers are dead. Every one of them. We're ghosts, brother. Ghosts of the fallen who call for vengeance for our damnation. We have our duty."
Dethralli lowered his eyes, and nodded.
"Move out."
The servitors guarding the Thunderhawks had clearly been informed of their new situation. Heavy bolter fire from the gun servitors spat into the ruins of Tarnegris the moment they spotted the loyalist Marines.
With a kind of detached brutality, the cyborgs were shot down in short order. The 5th company rapidly took control of the gunships. Dethralli turned back for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, and then saluted.
And then he vanished, and the Thunderhawks vanished towards space.
"There weren't enough here," said Torlus. "You have more 'hawks than that, surely."
"Basic tactics. Don't have your entire airforce in one place," said Medasclo. "Most likely there'll be four different stores of them. The… others will beat us to the other ones. Kaltharus, we should make ourselves scarce."
"Agreed." The 2nd company Captain paused, and looked over the Marines.
Torlus did the same, and was dismayed to see that the Vipers seemed disheartened. Not unexpectedly, he realised. They had seen the taint overwhelm two thirds of their number. The certainty that they were the ultimate warriors, incorruptible, undefeatable, had been shaken.
"Brothers," began Kaltharus. He stopped, searching for words. "Brothers, we have seen something terrible. It will not be the end of the trials we must face here. The Emperor has placed us in a position that would destroy a lesser man. We must show Him that we still fight in His name."
"While heretics still draw breath, there can be no peace," said Medasclo. "Take heart, men. We are His finest. We shall make Him proud!"
It hadn't worked, Torlus could see that. There was still doubt. But the familiar words encouraged the Marines to action.
With energy fuelled by hatred and betrayal, two hundred Space Marines moved into the dark streets of Tarnegris.
Long time no see, everyone… congratulations, Kage, you spurred me into writing this. My focus is all over the place, so you might be able to expect more updates soon…