Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 297

Hot sparks alighted on Kazao's helmet, glowing fiercely against the dark material. They left splotchy afterimages on his eyeballs, making his world a smear of green and purple. The plasma torch in his gloved hand burned fiercely as the super-hot flame melted Plasteel, drawing a thin bead of molten metal across the crack in the pipe. The smell of scorched metal penetrated his helmet, but he held his grip firm as he sealed the damage tight.

Satisfied the pipe was secure Kazao shut off his welding gear and looked about. In the bowels of the Serpens Rex his squad laboured at their punishment detail. A complicated knot of pipes and valves, set right under the primary waste recycling centre for the inhabited quadrant. Through these pipes flowed the urine and faeces of thousands, being pumped into sifting and evaporation tanks and then decanted into Nutri-baths and cleansing meshes. It was easy to forget the Nest was a space station, and as such every drop of water was recycled. It made Kazao queasy to think he'd spent decades drinking someone else's piss.

Around the mould-stricken pipes his squad worked. Joffel peeled off fungi that grew in the dank space, while Tebes was scrubbing glassic dials with a wet rag and bucket. Larus was picking bits of gunk out of valve controls with a coarse brush, while Kazao went from dripping crack to leaking joint, welding them tight. Imperial materials were non-oxidizing, so rust wasn't a problem, but the environment was dripping with condensation and infested with mould spores. The lighting was poor, their shrifts sodden with dew and the smell of leaking waste and mould spores would have made a Squig vomit. A demeaning punishment in Kazao's opinion.

"How much longer do we have to do this?" Joffel grumbled.

"Till Reddam thinks we learned our lesson," Larus groaned.

"So... next millennium then," Kazao sighed.

"I wouldn't say that too loud, he can hear us," Tebes warned.

Kazao glanced to the side, where Reddam stood glaring from outside the knot of pipes. The Sergeant stood in power armour, spear held upright in one hand. His face was stern and disapproving, but at least he'd stopped shouting. Kazao's ears were burning from the dressing down, the sworn promises of terrible vengeance and grumbles that he'd been too easy on the squad. Reddam had not been amused by their stunt in the fighting arena, not at all.

By his side stood Nathanal, the Tech-artisan leaning on a wooden cane. He looked tired, in Kazao's admitted limited experience of mortals, or maybe he just looked old. Reddam had asked him for the most demeaning job available and the man had certainly come through. At first he'd been amused by the sight of the squad doing work a servitor would find odious, but after a couple of hours he'd lost his smirk.

"Was what we did really so bad?" Joffel muttered.

"We challenged a Captain in public," Tebes reminded the others, "What got into me to listen to you lot I'll never know."

"Don't try to shift blame, you were all for it," Larus pointed out.

"Only because you made it sound easy," Tebes grumbled.

"It would have been, if you ever learned how not to get hit," Joffel snorted.

"Says the one who was first out of the ring!" Tebes snapped.

Kazao broke in, "It doesn't matter, we're in the crapper now. Reddam is going to rub our noses in this forever."

"I don't know what pissed him off more, that we challenged an outsider, or that we got our arses handed to us," Joffel grumbled.

From outside the dripping pipes Reddam called, "Less talking, more scrubbing!"

"Put your elbows into it," Nathanal sighed without enthusiasm.

"Once we're done here there's some Chattel's laundry that needs delousing. A flea infestation has broken out, there's sooooo many bugs crawling in those sheets."

All groaned and Larus protested, "It is really necessary to humiliate us?"

"You think you deserve any better?!" Reddam snorted.

"Couldn't you just beat some sense into us with your fists?" Kazao asked.

"You'd enjoy it too much," Reddam scoffed, "Just be glad Ferrac didn't get his way, he wanted to eject you from high orbit, without a drop-pod."

Kazao sighed as he turned to the next pipe. This one was badly cracked, dripping disgusting fluids. He saw the pipe would have to be isolated first, but the wheel-valve was covered in mould, jammed tight. It was set horizontally and had accumulated black mould all over it, making it seem furry. He tried to move it one-handed, but even Space Marine strength was unequal to the task.

"I need another pair of hands!" he called.

The others wandered over and Larus gave it a tug, "That's stuck solid."

"I can clear it with my micro-lathe," Tebes offered.

"Quit it with the sodding micro-lathe!" Joffel rejoined, "No wheel is going to beat us, everyone grab it and pull as one."

Kazao set down his torch and gripped the wheel. The others did too, holding the large wheel. They counted to three and then heaved anti-clockwise, applying all their strength. To Kazao's shock the wheel held tight, even four Transhumans unable to move it. That didn't deter them though, they redoubled their efforts, pulling for all they were worth, till the entire wheel ripped free of the pipe, releasing the contents everywhere. A Geyser of shit burst out, spraying over them. Kazao's faceplate was doused and his vision cut off, that was a mercy. The roars of disgust and horror from the others painted a picture of woe, and the smell was gut-churning.

"Shut it off!" Tebes yelled, "Shut it off!"

"I can't see!" Kazao flailed.

"It's in my mouth, throne, it's in my mouth!" Joffel cried.

"Stop talking then!" Larus spat.

Nathanal called from afar, "Five paces left, the next wheel, cut off the flow there."

Kazao heard Tebes stomping about, then the fountain died down. He wiped his faceplate off with a gloved hand, smearing his vision with crap. The others were covered head to toe in effluent, dripping wet dollops of crap from black arms. They'd never looked sorrier and Kazao knew he felt the same.

"Karyl's Hairy Arse!" Nathanal spat, "You boys stink!"

"Get out of there," Reddam sighed, "I'll summon a servitor with a hose."

Kazao picked his way out of the pipes with a ginger step, feeling his boots squelch with every tread. He felt humiliated and resentful. He was a Space Marine, this was beneath them. To transgress deserved punishment, but to literally douse them in crap was too far. He'd never felt less charitable towards Reddam than he did right now.

A plodding servitor came up, dragging a steam-hose. Open water around machine spirits was unwise, but the scalding blasts of the nozzle would suffice. The squad stood dripping as the machine-man blasted them with red-hot streams of vapour, enough to scald a mortal but blessedly cleansing on their bodies. Kazao twisted his head about to get the stream over the back of his neck, feeling his scaled flesh form rivulets that ran down his back.

Nathanal stood well back, holding his nose, "When you lads make a mess, you make one hell of a mess."

"Don't remind us," Kazao hissed.

Kazao noted Reddam looking distracted, hand to the vox-bead in his ear, "What did you say... now... but I'm busy... say that again..."

"Sergeant?" Kazao asked.

"Shrios needs us, he says it's urgent."

"Urgent?" Joffel said eagerly, "Let's go at once!"

"Sorry about the pipes," Larus said with a sly grin.

Nathanal sniffed, "No bother, I'll suppose I'll have to get some servitors up here to fix those pipes."

"Was that always an option?" Larus blinked.

"Course, don't think I have actual people do things like this?!"

Kazao felt even more humiliated but Reddam was already striding off. The others followed in his wake as they jogged across the Serpens Rex. They set a fierce pace but the Nest was vast and the corridors not exactly straight. They passed several checkpoints and chokeholds, defences built into the structure of the base, and a crumbling fortress-bunker, hollowed out long ago by Gauss fire. Kazao noted they weren't heading for the Apothecarion but a remote sector of the liveable areas. He recognised it, for this was the area they had dragged Shrios' experiments to, that was troubling.

Reddam led them right to the quiet corner and there they found Shrios, standing outside a plain hatch with a worried look. "We came as requested," Reddam called.

"Reddam, thank you for your haste," Shrios exhaled, "We have a problem... Throne, what is that smell... it's you! Why do you stink so?!"

"Never mind that, tell me what happened!"

Shrios sighed, "I detected an errant power spike and ran here as fast as I could, only to find disaster."

"Your Machines were offended by being moved and failed?" Tebes guessed.

"Worse," Shrios groaned, "Something went wrong with the test-subjects. Look for yourselves."

Shrios stepped aside and all peered within, only to find a slaughterhouse. Bits of mortals were painted across the walls and floors, their entrails hanging in ribbons from gurneys and consoles. They had died running, they had died screaming or praying, but they had died all the same. Their killers were among them, Transhuman bodies laid out cold and unmoving upon the floor. They lay staring in death, eyes grey orbs in their skulls but their hands were red and their mouths stuffed with the viscera they had been shovelling into their maws. They had died feasting on the dead, or at least Kazao wished the mortals had been dead. The sight made his guts churn and a cold sensation clawed at his stomach.

"What the Frak?" Larus breathed.

"The subjects, they killed my workers," Shrios lamented.

"How?" Reddam breathed, "You said they were vat-clones, clinically brain-dead."

"I don't know," Shrios answered, "They should have been, none of them displayed a hint of cognitive potential. Maybe moving them triggered something, maybe a freak twist of their gene-seed triggered, but they burst into life and began slaughtering everything within reach. This shouldn't be possible."

"You killed them?" Tebes asked.

"I didn't have to; they couldn't possibly live long. They are all wrong inside; nothing could live like that. They were doomed from their first breath."

"Why did they stop to feed?" Joffel asked.

"Some primal instinct," Shrios guessed, "An instinct buried in the gene-seed, or some trace of warp-taint. I honestly can't say, but what I do know is that there were twelve subjects here, but I only count eleven specimens."

Reddam's face fell in horror, "You mean there's one still out there?!"

"Looks like," Shrios nodded.

"A rabid cannibal killer, a revenant craving blood and slaughter, and you let it loose?!"

"I didn't let anything, it should be dead, it might be already. An hour, a day at most and it will keel over."

"Too long," Reddam growled, "If it gets into the open..."

"It could kill scores of chattels, hundreds," Tebes gulped.

"Worse, it could be seen by the other Chapters," Reddam growled, "They already suspect us, thanks to you idiots, if they see a diseased mutant roaming our base the Amber Vipers will be condemned as Heretics."

"Quick, hide Kazao," Joffel scoffed.

Reddam barked, "This is no time for jests! That twisted freak could be running as we speak. We need to split up, run it down and kill it, before any of the other Chapters find out. Shrios, get a flamer and cleanse this place down to the bulkheads."

"Burn my research?!" the Apothecary gasped.

"No one can know about this, nobody! Bad enough our own gene-seed is chimeric, if the Storm Heralds or Howling Griffons find out we've been experimenting on other Chapter's progenoids they'll declare war on us. This jeopardises everything Coluber is trying to do, the entire Chapter could be obliterated if we don't cover this up. No trace can be allowed to escape, not one word. Torch the bodies, burn the specimens and gene-seed samples, smash the cogitators. No one can ever learn this existed!"

"I understand," Shiros conceded, "Damn, what a waste of knowledge."

"Better that than the Chapter," Reddam hissed, "The rest of you, split up and scour every route the mutant could have fled down. Find it and kill it, and do it fast, before this whole Conclave explodes in our faces!"

They obeyed without question, breaking apart to race down dark passages. Kazao ran as fast as he could, arms and legs pumping. Their quarry was out there somewhere and they had to find it. Into the dark places of the Serpens Rex he ran, fighting to keep the whisper that it was already too late from his mind.