Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 276
The Temple of Knowledge Imperishable rose above the Forges of Tempres, like a beacon of hubris. Sheer sided and many-layered, a tower tall enough to brush the heavens. Holiest site on Nakara, the centre of governance and research, based in the heart of the largest Forge on the planet. Here reigned the Forge Synod of Nakara, and many Tech-Priests dreamed of treading its sacred halls and communing with the antediluvian data-looms within, said to have been brought from Mars many thousands of years ago upon the founding of the Forgeworld. The fane loomed large in terms both physical and psychological, the heart of the Cult Technis on Nakara.
Naturally the Temple of Knowledge Imperishable was well-defended. In-built Macroweapons could lay low a Titan and its void-shields could shrug off starship grade fire. Mighty bastions ringed its lower slopes and fighter hangers poked its top like rookeries. That was before one took into account the vast Taghmata of Tempres beyond, the Forges' armies a multitude of hosts, fierce and well-armed. Even in the darkest days of the civil war the rebels had not dared approach Tempres, and so the Forge Synod sat smug, sure of their safety.
Coluber thought that was the root of the problem. The highest ranks of the Tech-Priests were too secure, too far removed from the front lines. They consulted numeric charts of casualties and thought they understood battle, argued over lost production quotas and debated garrisons and protection details for Manufactorums. Coluber had reviewed their strategems over the many, many years the war had ground on and found them timid and defensive. Tactics more concerned with keeping what they had, rather than seeking to exploit their advantage. The Tech-Priests of Nakara weren't fighting to win, they were fighting to not lose. That was why they needed outside help, though they denied it.
"They seem pissed," Ferrac sniffed as waiting Skitarii glared at the Amber Vipers.
"Good," Coluber stated, "I want them angry."
Apothecary Shrios grunted, "Tech-Priests don't do anger, too fleshy."
"Oh they get angry," Ferrac snorted, "You can tell by the way their targeting lenses keep locking on to us."
Coluber knew the Battle-Captain was right. In an ante-chamber two score Skitarii stood in ceremonial guard, weapons raised but notably with safeties off. He was sure they would love to shoot him in the back, but without a direct order they could do nothing. The Tech-Guard were lacking individual zeal, clockwork soldiers bound to the combat-protocols implanted in their brains. Dependent on higher orders to fight, a key weakness in Coluber's mind.
"I wonder," Coluber mused.
"Wonder what?" Ferrac asked.
"Just thinking, if a Magos Dominus ordered them to jump off a cliff, would they?"
"They wouldn't even bother to ask why," Ferrac grunted, "Unlike us they can't think for themselves."
"So you wouldn't jump to obey?"
"If some quillpusher tried to boss me about, I'd tell them to go Frak themselves."
Coluber sniffed, "And if I ordered you to jump off a cliff?"
Ferrac grinned, "In that case, I'd learn how to fly on the way down."
Coluber considered his comrade. Battle-Captain Ferrac was a belligerent oaf, always eager for battle. His way of war was bold but costly, as attested to by the engraved iron mask riveted over his brow and cheekbones. Ferrac was bloody, wasteful and bellicose, but loyal, unbreakably loyal. Coluber knew he owed many victories to the Battle-Captain's ardour, but didn't begrudge him. Ferrac's role was to win battles, Coluber's task was to make sure the Amber Vipers prospered and grew, in the Emperor's service of course.
Shrios was a big part of that. The Apothecary had single-handedly raised the first few generations of recruits to their Chapter, wrestling with the intricacies of their unstable gene-seed. He had created an order of successors to take on the burden, but remained the foremost expert in matters biologic. His face carried those burdens, marked by many scars and increasing lines of age. Coluber was aware his own face was pitted by years and his once-black hair now a shock of white. Time exacted its toll, even on Astartes.
A chime rang and drew their eyes as heavy doors pulled back. Without announcement the Amber Vipers entered the throneroom of Archmagos Sinclair, striding boldly into the hall of their disgruntled ally. Coluber was taken aback by the scope of the chamber, so wide and high that echoes rang. Two crowds filled the floor, Tech-Priests ranked a hundred long and a hundred deep, to either side of the path. They communed via cables driven into the skulls, trailing upon the floor in trails dense as the roots of a tree. Silently they judged the intruders, as servo-skulls floated above and recorded everything.
Coluber ignored them, eyes fixed on Sinclair. The Archmagos sat on a throne of metal, set under an icon of the cog and skull and bracketed by twin capacitors that crackled with Motive Force constantly. The Archmagos' head was lost in a forest of cables, that bored into the meat of his brain and his face was a pale skull of aged bone, without eyes or mouth. No hint of life remained in the withered frame bound to the Throne, no motion, no trace of breathing. Optical lens upon his throne let him see, and vox-grilles let him speak, but Coluber found it a near Heretical aping of the Emperor on his Golden Throne.
"Stop right there!" Sinclair's voice issued from vox-grilles.
Coluber drew to a halt, "Archmagos, you sound displeased."
"Displeased?!" Sinclair snapped with anger, though his body never twitched, "You destroyed the sacred Autocaduceus!"
"And?" Ferrac sniffed.
"And? And?! A relic of wonder, treasured across the Segmentum Solar! Adepts from across the galaxy made pilgrimage Nakara, bringing devices beyond our understanding to be repaired. The Autocaduceus restored them all, treasures great and small. So many blessed artefacts endure only because of our wonder, and you destroyed it!"
Ferrac grunted, "It hasn't been repairing anything, not while in the hands of Heretics."
Coluber cut in, "What my Captain is trying to say is that the loss of the relic is an acceptable cost, to end this bitter civil war."
Sinclair hissed, "Acceptable losses, I should have known better than to trust you. Word of your slovenly behaviour has reached us here. The Amber Vipers are infamous, your trespasses a recurring loop-error in the Binaric coding of the Imperium. The Mechancius was right to chase you away with gunfire, I should have heeded my peer's example and opened fire the second you approached orbit!"
"Would that you could," Coluber scoffed, "Your orbital defences are in tatters, you don't control half this planet. Rebellion has crippled you, you haven't even sent your oath-tithes to the Indomitus Crusade for years."
"Nakara does not acknowledge the office of this Regent," Sinclair spat, "Primarch or no, we have more urgent matters to deal with. Priorities older and more revered than his upstart commands."
Coluber sighed, "Archmagos, this wittering on is exactly why you are losing the war. Too much talk, too little action. You are engaged in debate, while your enemies march on your doorstep. Your relics, your manufactorums, are meaningless without victory. This rebellion should have been put down inside a solar year, instead it has become a meaningless meatgrinder, robbing your world of vital resources. Let the Amber Vipers win the war for you, then you can return to your production quotas. Trust me, that's all I ask."
"Trust you?!" Sinclair spat, "You are slovenly brigands, mercenaries and thieves. You spit upon due respect and laugh at protocol. I have seen your many Tech-Heresies at work and I deem you Maletek Incarna. The Amber Vipers are nothing but bandit kings, thugs and ruffians!"
From behind Ferrac snorted, "I've never been so offended by something I one hundred percent agree with."
"You do not have the right to pass judgement upon us!" Coluber declared.
Sinclair barked, "But someone else does, come forth!"
The doors behind echoed with heavy footsteps and Coluber turned to see another entering. A looming silhouette, in plate far heavier than theirs. Terminator Armour, the mightiest of all protections known to man. The figure approaching wore the colours of the White Consuls Chapter and the rank emblems of a Captain. His face was grim and his bearing stern, yet familiar. Terminator-Captain Robann, a warrior known to Coluber.
Robann drew to a halt and called, "Hail Archmaos Sinclair. On behalf of the White Consuls Chapter and the Indomitus Crusade, to which we are oathsworn, I greet thee. Word of your plight has reached the ear of the Imperial Regent and Roboute Guilliman himself despatched me to lend your noble Forgeworld aid."
Sinclair sounded smug, "I thank you for your swift arrival, matters here have got out of hand."
"Indeed," Robann concurred, "I have reviewed your reports and share your outrage. The actions of the Amber Vipers in this theatre are beyond the pale. The Regent is equally displeased."
"He… he is?" Sinclair sounded surprised.
"Destruction of relics, the loss of productivity among your manufactorums, is unacceptable," Robann explained, "The Regent has no use for scorched-earth victories. The production values of Nakara must be preserved, for the Imperium to prosper."
"I am surprised to hear your Primarch cares about our woes," Sinclair replied.
"The Regent listens to his people's concerns, he is dedicated to the welfare of all Imperial citizens. He sends fifty thousand Centauran Void Rangers and eight hundred Unnumbered Sons to relieve this world and end the rebellion. I shall assume direct command of all operations, and show you how war is prosecuted properly."
"Tell your master he has the gratitude of Nakara," Sinclair declared, "Assure him we shall repay his generosity tenfold. Our previous intransigence will be forgotten, his Indomitus Crusade shall reap the bounty of our Forges… but only if these Amber Vipers are censured, most thoroughly."
"Your thoughts are in accord with the Regent's design," Robann answered, "I shall return and discuss matters of strategy momentarily, but first I will reprimand these brigands, in private."
Sinclair fell silent as the doors opened once more and Robann strode out. Coluber had been silent since he arrived but followed meekly, appearing contrite. They returned to the antechamber and the Skitarii filed out, leaving the foursome alone as the doors slid shut. Coluber made to speak but Robann lifted a palm for silence. In his other hand a small device began to blink, a vox-jammer, ensuring privacy.
"We have three minutes till they overcome the jamming," Robann declared.
"So, are you pleased by our performance?" Coluber snorted.
"You played your part to the letter," Robann allowed, "Moreso in fact, did you really have to destroy a precious relic?"
Ferrac grunted, "That arsehole told us to come here and stir up trouble, make the Tech-Priests beg for his aid, he didn't say anything about sparing the whip."
Robann shook his head in the confines of his armour, "That 'arsehole' as you call him is a Primarch, and appointed Regent of the Emperor on Terra. You take too many liberties with his orders. A threat, that's all you were meant to be, to apply leverage to the Forge-synod."
"I know how the game is played," Coluber retorted, "Nakara's been dragging its heels, refusing outside aid, allowing rebel Forges to switch sides and back again, rebuffing all attempts to get them to sign up to the Crusade. They've been a pain in his arse, so we came to kick them off their high horse. Get them riled up, eager to bow at his feet. Well, it worked."
"You should take more care with your words, your honour is tarnished enough," Robann hissed.
"Your master doesn't give a flying Frak about our honour," Coluber retorted, "He's happy to drag our name through the mud, so long as he gets what he wants. Don't put him on a pedestal, he's no saint. Always preaching about proper conduct and protocols, but also willing to look the other way when a dirty job needs doing. The Amber Vipers sully our name, so you can play the big Throne-damned heroes but your glory is built on lies, remember that."
Robann glanced at his device, which was blinking orange, "Our time's nearly up. I have to go massage Sinclair's ego, but you should make yourself scarce. Try to look contrite as you leave, but know you have done essential work. The imperium is strengthened by these deeds. It had to be done, and I'll give you this, you were the only ones who could do it."
"And all it cost us was our honour," Coluber retorted but Robann was already departing.
The trio watched him go and Shrios muttered, "I hate that stuck-up prig."
"Not half as much as his self-righteous blowhard of a Primarch," Ferrac growled.
"That's enough," Coluber chided, "We need to leave this planet, and take our spoils with us."
Shrios sniffed, "Worthless spoils, we found no potential recruits here."
"A few shipments of munitions, and fuel, barely enough to replenish what we expended," Ferrac added.
"You both think too narrowly," Coluber corrected, "We gained two things of critical import: one long-term, the other short-term."
"I don't follow," Ferrac uttered.
Coluber explained, "First the Mechancius has officially acknowledged we exist. Low in their esteem maybe, but the Amber Vipers have a place in the Imperium at last. The Tech-Priests will not fire on us on sight anymore, we are accepted as a loyal Chapter. That opens a range of possibilities. We have something they want afterall."
"The STC's we've been holding on to?" Shrios guessed, "But wait, what's the other thing?"
Coluber grinned, "Sergeant Reddam signals: mission accomplished."
"He got the…" Shrios gasped.
"Not out loud, not where we can be heard," Coluber warned, "Suffice to say, we have what we need to finalise the project."
"Hard to believe, after all this time. We've dreamt of this for so long, I can't wait another day," Ferrac pressed eagerly.
"You won't have to," Coluber assured him, "Come my Brothers, you are about to witness a state-change in the Amber Viper's fortunes."
