Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 285
"And with the completion of this Power Armour manufactorum we have lessened our dependence on unreliable supply chains," Coluber explained.
Toran was not convinced and countered, "But you still barter your fighting skills for material possessions."
"You got a problem with that?" Ferrac growled.
Toran replied archly, "It is unbecoming for the Adeptus Astartes to fight in expectation of reward, our duty to the Emperor and his people should be foremost in all our minds. Ours is a selfless calling."
"Easy for you to say," grumbled Ferrac.
Coluber cut him off, "What the Battle-Captain is trying to say is that the Amber Vipers do not receive the tribute of grateful worlds as a right. I ask you to consider how many planets send arms and victuals to your homeworld, in the expectation that you will fight for them should danger arise. A dozen, a score? How many millions of men toil daily so the Storm Heralds can fight?"
Toran was given pause, for that uncomfortably true. The protectorates of his Chapter were bountiful and fecund, planets for hundreds of lightyears sending supply to their Fortress-Monastery. The Forges of Lujan II burned day and night to fashion arms and armour, but they could not hope to function without raw materials, fuel and servitors. Local shipyards serviced their fleet without complaint and a Forgeworld delivered exotic weapons regularly. Toran knew that the strength of a Chapter flowed from the people it protected, not the other way around.
Toran lowered his head to concede the point but said, "Yet the rumours about the nature of your deals is troubling. Word has spread far of your dark deeds. The destruction of precious Relics on Nakara alone is troubling."
Coluber sighed, "Alas the wars we fight demand ruthless action. But I do not think of my policy as 'deals'. I form mutually-beneficial pacts and compacts of support, and only with loyal governors of desperate need. We fight for the forgotten and ignored, those the Imperium turns a blind eye to, and they in turn arm us for the battles to come. A balance of nobility and practically."
Toran had no good answer for that. After seeing his Company to his billet Coluber and Ferrac had taken him on a tour of the Serpens Rex, an inspection filled with surprises. Toran had seen the dilapidated state of the base but also dedicated workers striving to make the most of it. Workshops had been filled with hunched artisans forging bolt rounds and teams of Enginseers slaving over mechanisms. Their efforts were crude and lacked understanding of the higher mysteries of the Cult Technis, but their dedication he could not fault.
The Amber Vipers had dispersed too and he was struck by how eager they were. They trained and honed their skills with fierce pride, but then would laugh and jest among themselves as true Brothers. They were not as austere as the Storm Heralds, but not as insolent as the Marines Malevolent. More open than the Smoke Jaguars, but less bombastic than the Ashen Knights. Less learned than the Steel Confessors, but more willing to risk appearing foolish than the Fire Lords. Of all the Chapters Toran had had close dealings with, the Amber Vipers confounded him the most.
Toran had thought he knew what to expect when he stepped onto the Serpens Rex. Either a noble band of stalwart heroes, or a ruthless warband of grasping renegades. The Amber Vipers were neither, far less altruistic than an Astartes should be, but more than those self-centred rogues who scorned their oaths of loyalty and embarked on a life of piracy and pillage. Toran was struggling to decide whether the Amber Vipers were heroes or villains, and wasn't sure he would ever settle on an answer.
"Come, let me show you more," Coluber offered. The Master of the Amber Vipers led Toran away from the doors to the manfactorums, leading him deeper into the base. They walked slowly, drawing awed gazes from passing mortals. Toran's armour was a hue unseen to most and the glory of his heraldry shone in the drab confines of the base. The Captain ignored them, examining the broken statues of dead worthies from antiquity, the burned-out habs and dripping conduits. Much about this base was substandard, yet somehow the Amber Vipers made it work.
"Where exactly did you find this base?" Toran asked.
"We just did," Ferrac grunted, "Leave it at that."
But Coluber was more open, "We found it abandoned, save for Maru. His Brothers waged war upon a Necron Dyson Sphere, and died. We finished their mission and claimed the base."
Toran blinked his one eye, "You took out a Necron facility… you?"
"Don't sound so shocked," Ferrac grinned.
"We have weapons at our disposal of dire potency," Coluber explained, "Weapons from the Dark Age of Technology."
"Exterminatus-grade?" Toran asked with concern.
"Worse," Coluber lamented, "Weapons not of destruction but sadism, the inventions of a torturer who wished his victims to suffer. Even I am wary of using them, thus I have them kept under lock and key. A special order of Brothers guards them night and day, the Cerberii. You will not meet them, so don't ask. They alone determine the use of such devices, I cannot command them to open that gate, no one can."
"Almost no one," Ferrac snorted, "That arsehole of a Primarch found a way."
"You speak ill of my gene-father," Toran growled.
"Tell me he isn't an arrogant bastard and I'll call you a liar."
"I have encountered him and each meeting has left me disabused of my preconceptions. He is not as the legends have made him appear, he is his own man. A genius in all fields, driven and ambitious, but willful, prone to going his own way. Plus he has a temper."
"There's a story you need to tell," Ferrac pressed.
"He punched me into a coma," Toran admitted sheepishly.
"Ha!" Ferrac laughed, "I knew there was more to you than a starched cloak!"
Coluber seemed vexed, "The Primarch is not why we are here. We have other matters to discuss. Ferrac, you should know better than to bring him up."
"It's not my fault everything seems to revolve about him," Ferrac sniffed.
"We shall discuss other things," Coluber hissed pointedly.
Toran sensed more going on there than the words contained, but didn't press any further. They had reached the heart of the base and Coluber led them to a lift-cage. Toran almost stopped in his tracks when he saw the elevator was not supported by grav-beams but rattled up and down on heavy chains. It was more primitive than he could have imagined and he wondered if it would take their weight. He was sincerely glad Novak had remained behind. Ferrac and Coluber didn't seem concerned as they stepped within, and a heartbeat later Toran followed. Ferrac pulled a clanking mesh over the door then thumped the embedded servitor to send them aloft.
They rattled upwards, as Toran glanced at the passing levels and remarked, "I feel like you are trying to impress me."
Coluber sighed, "Is that so strange? When last we met I was humble beggar, catching crumbs from your table. I could not dream to call myself your equal."
"You fought well and proudly," Toran consoled, "Your numbers were few but your souls were stalwart. You chose to treat with me, rather than spill the blood of kinsmen."
"I thought there was only prideful death or shameful treachery," Coluber sighed, "You showed me there was a third way, a way of cooperation and alliance. The third way has been my life, and yet I still dream of the Amber Vipers becoming more. To be as you are, to stand tall and be counted among the best of men."
Toran sniffed, "So tell me: do you miss the colours of the Soul Drinkers?"
"Don't say that name," Ferrac spat.
Coluber raised a hand, "Apologies, but we have left the past behind. We who remember the Time of Exodus do not speak of those days, and our younger recruits are not told of our origins."
"You keep this from them?" Toran asked in disbelief.
"They are Amber Vipers, that is enough for them," Coluber explained, "Those of us who know that particular truth grow fewer and when the last of us is dust, that we are Amber Vipers will be the only truth that matters"
Toran shook his head, "I confess when we parted I suspected you would not last long. So few of you, so thin were your resources. And yet you have built a Chapter out of nothing, I am not sure I could have done as you did."
Coluber's eyes grew weary, "Be glad you don't have to, the choices I have had to make, the moral compromises. Every war we engage in I must weigh the benefits against the risk, judge if the resulting boons justify the lives spent. Many times I have had to turn away from a plea I cannot afford to answer, avoid a war I cannot win. There have been times we waded into fights too fierce and nearly were extinguished, and I have made mistakes along the way."
"They weren't your fault," Ferrac argued.
But Coluber said, "I cannot hide from my errors. Behold this pauldron Toran, cast black in mourning and as a reminder against hubris. It marks a day when I blundered into a meatgrinder, blinded by the prospect of claiming ancient weapons. I let greed overcome my prudence and nearly lost everything. A cautionary tale."
"I am surprised to hear you admit to making fault," Toran consoled.
Ferrac countered, "Risks are our calling, we cannot prevail by being timid. We fight the Emperor's wars, as best we can. You have led us with wisdom and cunning my brother."
Toran sensed the fierce bond of loyalty between them and yet had to say, "But the nature of those wars, the casual destruction you leave behind. I have heard of the collateral damage you inflict and the losses of the innocents."
Coluber's face grew pained, "If I could avoid such calamity, I would. But my tools are limited and my weapons imprecise. Our wins are not as clean as yours, but I have to seek victory the only way I can. The few times we have waged a good and righteous war are precious to me beyond measure. Ah, to have the resources of the Storm Heralds at my back, we would fight as the proud Ultramarines do, with courage and honour, but I cannot. Pragmatism and practicality are our watchwords. We fight as we do out of necessity, not choice."
Toran was going to argue further but the lift came to a halt. They pulled the mesh door back and alighted. The pair led the Captain towards a broad hatch and when they passed within Toran froze in shock. The control centre of the Serpens Rex, a sight to steal the breath away. A broad sweep of mirror polished floor, set with sunken pits where consoles hummed. Rose-red pillars supported a magnificent roof and a statue of the Emperor as a teacher loomed over all. In the distance a small pyramid arose, a command plinth one could mount via burnished steps. It resembled some feudal world's court, where a Governor-King would preside over his vassals with regal majesty.
Toran breathed, "My apologies Coluber, this is wondrous."
Coluber lowered his head, "I cannot claim we made it, but this is the heart of my dream. All you have seen below is but the mould for what will come. The Amber Vipers are not complete, we are a work in progress, but this is what we could become. I look upon this and am inspired, a vision of nobility I seek to impress upon our recruits. One day we will be as laudable as this."
Toran looked about the space and saw the dream for himself. A proud Chapter, fighting the Emperor's wars out of nobility and selflessness. It was a wondrous vision, yet he could not forget the sordid steps taken to reach it. The Amber Vipers walked a narrow tightrope between honour and shame and still he could not tell which way they would fall. Coluber thought he knew their future, but what of the rest of his brethren? That remained to be answered. Toran needed to see more, before he made his judgement.
