Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 410

Kerubim hung from a metal cross, his arms and legs spread wide and shackled in an X-position. He remained naked and the silver covering his skin gleamed in the dim underground light. Numerous cables and drips were slotted into the interface sockets drilled into his Black Carapace, and electrodes had been buried in his skull. Pulsing devices were linked to these wires, bleeping as they measured his neural activity and life signs, every breath measured and tabulated for the record.

Kerubim glared at his captors, who remained utterly indifferent. The Automatons had forced him through a gate in the mountainside and carried him far underground. He'd fought back, struggling to resist as they shackled him to this frame, but achieve nothing. Outnumbered and stripped of armour he was no match for Ironkin and had been chained to his rack by metal hands. That didn't mean he was helpless though, he would find a way to free himself and exact revenge, he just hadn't figured out how yet.

Lacking any way to break his bonds Kerubim examined the room. Some form of Laboratorium, filled with stacked machines and long tables laid out with strange glassic ewers, where ominous chemicals bubbled. What caught Kerubim's notice was that half the room was adorned as befits a Mechanicus research shrine, with the Holy Cog symbol everywhere, votive candles burning and a Servitor built into the corner, reciting Binaric hymnals in a low voice. The other half was stark and bleak, upright Cogitators and rows of callipers laid out in exacting detail, without so much as an incense burner to be seen. The two halves of the room were isolated from each other, and if Kerubim imagined it he could draw a line straight as a ruler down the middle, dividing the equipment from each other.

He pondered that for a time. The Squats and the Tech-Priests were working together, but not amicably. There was a division here, a tension between them, their natures were not in harmony. It was like two roomates who cannot stand each other, marking out their space in an unhappy armistice of hostilities. Kerubim wondered if there was a way to exploit that, to make the discord work in his favour. No brilliant ideas sprang out at him, but there must be a way.

A heavy door slid aside at the far end of the room and his tormentors entered. A Mechanicus priest led the way, followed by Skardar, who was chewing his stinking weed relentlessly and tossing a bulky hilt up and over in his hand, Kerubim's plasma-sabre, taunting him with the weapon. Wulfe followed after, avoiding Kerubim glare of hatred. Last of all came Inquisitor Markof, the betrayer come to gloat no doubt. He was flanked by a pair of Hearthkyn, who held Ionic blasters ready at all times. Markof didn't seem to care, stepping eagerly into the chamber as if he wasn't a prisoner too.

"Come to gloat?!" Kerubim spat angrily.

Markof didn't reply directly, turning to the cogboy, "How long will this take?"

"A precise count is impossible to achieve, we must act with circumspection, lest we damage the Hallowed artefacts."

"Quit stalling Egor," Wulfe growled, "Just get on wae it."

The Tech-priest moved to a high console and began reciting litanies of awakening. Kerubim glared at the remaining trio, trying to find a weakness in their assembly. Markof was an outsider, untrusted but tolerated. He had no leverage to employ here. Skardar was indifferent to taunts, his pride could not be pricked by a captive. Wulfe however still hadn't met his gaze, shame burning around his eyes. That was something Kerubim could use.

The Techmarine glared at his old comrade, "How low you have sunk."

"We all have oor burdens to bear," Wulfe sighed.

"Stooping to torturing captives, how pitiful for a proud Rotundus. You always preferred to break things, kill on the first swing. This is a disgrace, and working to build Silica Animus… you wallow in disgrace."

Wulfe didn't give anything away, "Ye were the ones best friends with Brontes."

Kerubim retorted, "Brontes died to put an end to these abominations. You spit on his grave by dredging up the horrors of the past."

"Blame that rusty pisspot!" Wulfe snarled, "He died before my lifedebt was repaid. I owe his family, but he nae had any bloodkin left, so I'm helping make some!"

A bleep from the Cogitators signalled pumps starting to pump. Kerubim flinched as red blood began trickling down feed lines, drawn from his veins into spinning centrifuges and molecular sieves. Kerubim clenched his fists, refusing to show weakness, though a cold sensation began to creep around his chest as his secondary heart engaged, trying to keep his blood pressure high. Other organs grew warm as his genhanced physiology tried to undo the damage, but nothing could stop the loss of vitae.

Egor peered at a series of readouts, "Larraman cell production is increasing, as if his body is trying to close a major wound. I can screen them out but it will slow collection of Nanocytes."

"Dae what ye have to," Skardar sniffed.

Markof lifted an eyebrow, "These Nanocytes are important?"

Egor nodded, "Our efforts to create true Machine intelligence have fallen short. The Cadmus design of the Dark Age had quantum circuitry beyond our understanding, or ability to replicate. The Nanocytes are microscopic machines, able to reorder atoms on command. They can complete the work, if we can successfully collect them."

Kerubim's guts clenched at the pronouncement. He was a Techmarine, he grasped the limits of Imperial Technology. Nanocytes were of an older and higher order of creation, products of science long lost to humanity. It was entirely possible they could do what Egor said, perfecting the Abominable Intelligences. That was a harrowing thought, he'd seen the handiwork of the Hegemony firsthand and knew the perils contained within. The ancients had been careless and wanton in their inventions, blinded by the wonders they fashioned they had overlooked the horrors hidden within. The fact that Kerubim would die without Nanocytes was inconsequential compared to the dangers to the Imperium.

"You can't do this," Kerubim hissed.

"It's done lad, die quietly will ye," Wulfe sighed.

"It's not too late," he urged.

"Shut up will ye, we be working."

Egor was fussing over glowing pict-screens and warbling readouts. The Tech-priest seemed agitated, moving frantically from control lectern to spewing printouts. Kerubim couldn't see what disturbed him so, but if the Heretek was unhappy that could be good news for him. He hoped so, he was running out of options here, and blood.

"Problems?" Markof sniffed.

"There is Binaric feedback," Egor stated, "Information is being passed between the Nanocytes."

"They be talking to each other?" Skardar asked.

"How's that possible?" Markof pressed.

"We expected coordination between the Nanocytes, a certain amount of networking is required to function, but this is so much more. There is information contained in the Noosphere, data stored on a quantum level. These hallowed artefacts are far more than tools, they are an archive too."

That was news to Kerubim, he'd never grasped the nature of the mysterious automatons Brontes had injected into him. That they were rebuilding his body cell by cell was known, that they must act in unity was an obvious consequence of that, but to think they held data all of their own was a revelation.

"Does this affect oor plans?" Skardar pressed.

Egor replied, "Error, the Nanocytes are actively resisting efforts to remove them from the Haemoglobin. Electrostatic charges are repulsing the molecular sieves. They are useless to us unless we can extract them from these cells."

"How do we do that?" Markof asked.

"With generous applications of Motive Force," Egor replied.

Egor pulled a lever and Kerubim's body was lit on fire. Crackling volts poured through his nerve endings, setting alight every pain receptor he had. Rasps scraped over every bone in his body, his fingernails were pulled out and his eyeballs boiled in their sockets. His tongue roasted in his mouth and his legs were crushed in a vice. He was burning head to toe, freezing inside and out while his lungs became withered husks, dry as the deserts of Tallarn. Every kind of pain imaginable was pouring through him, and every breath was like inhaling fire.

"Force levels insufficient, increasing fifty percent," Egor stated. Kerubim thought his agony could grow no further, he was wrong. Knives carved the flesh from his bones and screws were driven into his joints. He tried not to scream, an Astartes could master any pain, but this was something beyond imagination. His head rocked back as a wail slipped through his gritted teeth, torn from his throat against his will. He was thrashing in his bonds, but nothing could stop the pain.

"He willnae last much longer," Wulfe's voice floated through his ears. Kerubim could barely understand the words, his mind sinking into darkness. The world was a searing ocean of flame, the bleak cold of the grave seemed a blessed relief. Kerubim drifted into the dark, his mind shutting down as he fled the agony of existence. Duty, honour, revenge, all these faded away as the darkness closed in, drowning him in nothingness.

"Nanocytes separation, increasing Motive Force," a tinny voice echoed in the empty shadows. Kerubim no longer understood, he was sinking into nothingness, his body a fading memory. Pitch black on all sides, silence, blessed silence and the end of thought. His brain was shutting down, his last thought muffled and incoherent.

Wake up meatsack! An echo boomed in the dark. Kerubim's soul twitched, peaceful repose disturbed. Get your head up! Kerubim had no idea where the voice was coming from but it pricked his awareness, forcing thoughts to flow. He didn't want this, he wanted to stop thinking and be at peace but the voice wouldn't let him. You don't get to die so easily! You die here those mewling sacks of excrement will win! The thunder rolled. Get your weakling body back in gear and open those worthless sacks of galantine you call optics!

Kerubim had lost all memory but the voice would not relent. It hammered at the roots of his will, forcing him out of the dark, back into the searing agony of the light. It hurt, being alive hurt, but his soul clawed its way into the fire, crawling through a lake of broken glass, every nerve shredded by the effort. That's the way, keep going, wake up and tear out their shrivelled hearts!

Kerubim's eyes opened the same second the pain cut out. Grey smears filled his visions, nothing in focus, everything swirling. His body hung inert in his shackles, limp and helpless. His strength was gone, his endurance was tissue thin. He couldn't move a finger, all he could do was sag off the frame and feel the raw ache of living.

"Separation complete," Egor's voice rang.

"We get enough?" Skardar enquired.

"Affirmative," Egor replied, "We can begin injections into the Neo-Cadmus."

Markof's voice rang, "The captive's still alive."

"Surprising, but he always be a fighter," Wulfe grunted.

"Subject's survival was unlikely, but offers prospects of further extractions," Egor noted.

"He wannae survive a second time," Wulfe noted.

"Acceptable losses," Egor stated, "We must hasten to inject the Nanocytes before they reboot."

With that his captors departed, hurrying away with their stolen treasure. Kerubim had no strength left to stop them, all he could do was hang helplessly in his bonds. They would return for more soon enough, and when they did he would die. He had only a short time to effect an escape, but right now he had absolutely no idea how he would do that.