Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 411
The Tanglethorn forests were alive with the sound of industry. In a clearing of felled trees the Amber Vipers regrouped, gathering their battered forces together and tending their wounds. Armour was patched with repair paste, weapon stocks cleared of grit and swords checked for nicks and gouges. Munitions were replenished from Cargo-8's left in the woods and tanks filled with Promethium. And the dead were honoured, lines of bodies laid out in the mud.
Coluber watched as Apothecaries moved along the line of corpses, harvesting gene-seed with drill and Reductor. The Rites of the Dead had been performed, but the genic legacy of the Chapter must be claimed. From these seeds would arise fresh generations of Amber Vipers, but not for many years. For today their strength had been diminished greatly, forty-three Brothers lost, a tenth of the Chapter, a galling blow and one that must be avenged.
Drill-Sergeant Thaddis approached, a grim look on his face. Coluber already knew what news he would bring but asked, "No sign of him?"
"I checked twice, Kerubim is not among the living or the dead," Thaddis sighed.
"Then surely he lies cold on the hillside," Coluber sighed, "Our only Techmarine, dead."
Thaddis grimaced, "Damned Squats, I've never fought such a hard foe. Even Chaos Traitors move their accursed feet. The mutant scum simply refused to budge; their spines were made of Adamantium."
"They've tasted blood, I am surprised they didn't come to finish the kill," Coluber growled.
"They didn't have to bother, they think we were beaten," Thaddis spat bitterly.
"More fool them, they gave us a chance to restock and revise our strategy. Next time we won't be stalemated."
"We're going back then?" Thaddis probed.
"We are Astartes, and the mission is not yet completed," Coluber affirmed.
"I prayed you'd say that," Thaddis grinned, "Let me go put some ginger up the arse of the Snakelets."
The Drill-Captain hurried away, leaving Coluber bemused. All around the Amber Vipers made ready, none of them giving up. It was gladdening to see, despite the loss of Brothers their ardour for combat remained unbreakable. Coluber would need that fire, come the next battle.
Coluber turned to his Brother-Exemplars, "Tour the camp, let everyone see your proud heads held high."
"We're meant to keep you safe," Anaxar pointed out.
"You're more than bodyguards, you are examples of all that makes us great. I want our squads to see we aren't beaten."
"We'll show off some Katas, that always impresses," Anaxar agreed.
Coluber dismissed the pair as he moved in the other direction. Various squads hailed him with a range of respect, some a simple nod, others rising to their feet and bowing. Coluber detected Maru and Ferrac's influences at work, but greeted them all equally. So long as they could fight he could tolerate the individualistic customs of the squads.
Past the remaining pair of Leman Russ' he strode, being restocked with shells. Rhinos idled beyond them, their engines being tended by lesser Tech-apprentices. With Kerubim presumed dead these youths represented the apex of Machine Lore in the Chapter. That was a galling prospect, none of them matched the Techmarine's grasp of the Cult Technis' mysteries. But as always the Amber Vipers had to make do with what they had.
Berio lingered near the rear, the Cerberii gathered around him. They were battered and scored, their plate scorched grey in places. Few hung about them, and they sought no comradeship outside their order. Still the Claviger turned to face their master, pale faces seemingly marble-white in the fading light of day.
"Your losses?" Coluber asked without preamble.
"None that could not be made good," Berio stated.
"Your chargeā¦"
"Fled without leaving spoor of its passage."
Coluber frowned, "What exactly were you carrying?"
"A technomantic Leech," Berio confessed, "It is incorporeal in nature, but devours Motive Force and Data-cant to sustain itself. I thought it the surest way to end the threat of Silica Animus."
"Is there any prospect of recapturing it?"
"None whatsoever," Berio groaned, "The only blessing is that this Feral planet offers little in the way of sustenance. The Leech will be but a shade in the forests, unable to grow or leave this planet. The people's lack of technology will be the surest shield against future threats from that direction, though I do not recommend we linger too long ourselves."
Coluber accepted this, "We will have to do without it. Break the Squats the old-fashioned way, fire and steel."
"We can do that," Berio grinned as the grav-cannon fixed to his shoulder twitched.
"Make ready, we will meet them in battle again," Coluber promised.
The Chapter Master moved on, heading deeper into the camp. Here wounded Brothers were laid out, resting in armour as their injuries closed. The miracles of the Emperor's gene-craft were already at work, restoring blows that would have crippled any lesser man. Those at death's door mere hours earlier would be on their feet and fighting again before the day was out. A Space Marine was hard to put down, but next to impossible to kill, how else would a Chapter survive constant, endless battle.
Near the rows of injured he found those he sought. Reddam, Ferrac and Maru, grimly overseeing the restoration of their Cohorts and apprentices. Maru creaked as he moved, his systems badly damaged and in need of consecration. Kerubim's loss was doubly felt, as it left their Librarian Dreadnought diminished. Reddam hadn't a scratch on him, as he was fighting from within a Tank's hull, but his eyes were shadowed by loss regardless. Ferrac by contrast was a mess of armour paste, his plate cracked all over. His helm was lost and his colours nearly obscured by the mass of quick-setting ceramic. The Battle-Captain looked like he had gone ten rounds with an Ambull, and lost.
Coluber strode up, "How do we stand?"
Reddam answered, "Secundus and Primus took losses, but we are still combat-effective."
Maru added, "My apprentices fought hard, their mind-strength waxes strong."
"You look like you could do with a week in a Machine Shrine," Coluber noted.
"I faced Maletek Incarna in battle. Its stratagems were simple, but its physical might was potent. I was forced to employ my most subtle arts to disengage, as you ordered."
Coluber nodded, "It was a hard fight. I was tangling with a brute with a death-axe. Nearly ended me a dozen times over. Getting away was a tale unto itself, but I managed to break free. Next time I won't bother dancing, I'll just shoot him in the face."
Ferrac grunted, "That's nothing. I was grappling with some idiot brute, all fists and no brains. Wretched oaf was too stupid to admit he was beaten. Never met so dense a foe."
Maru quipped, "Your equal then, in ferocity and brains."
"What was that?!" Ferrac snapped.
Reddam cut in, "Never mind that, how are we to avoid another stalemate? Those Automatons were more dangerous than we expected."
"We redress our approach, adjust our tactics and hit them with a surprise of our own," Coluber said.
"That's hardly a ten-point plan from the Codex Astartes," Reddam grumbled.
"It's always worked for us before," Coluber sniffed.
Ferrac spoke up, "Has anyone seen that slug Markof?"
"No sign of him," Coluber replied, "I assume he died in the fighting."
"We aren't so blessed with luck," Ferrac grunted, "He's alive, I know it."
"Are you confessing to having Psyker visions?" Reddam snorted.
"Throne no," Maru blurted, "I am not training this rabid dog to come heel."
Ferrac didn't seem amused, crossing his arms as he spat, "I don't trust any Inquisitor, not even to die right. Until I see Markof's cold dead body I won't believe he's not plotting trouble. Even if I had a corpse at my feet, I wouldn't trust it was real till I had someone run genic scans, to prove it's not a decoy."
Reddam sighed, "Ferrac's paranoia aside, what are we going to do about the Black Mountain? Those defences will be restored long before we get our arses in gear, fresh guns, minefields and those Battle-automatons."
"We'll deal with that when we have to," Coluber demurred, "In the meantime, where are the prisoners?"
"Over there," Maru gestured with an arm of whining pistons, "But they will not speak."
"They will speak to me," Coluber growled.
With a sharp step he headed towards a line of prisoners, two-score, kneeling in the mud. By the border of the treeline they were held, watched over by Brothers with Bolters in hand. Some were Skitarii rangers, their faces steel and bodies hidden by red robes. Others were squats, thick and broad, with sloped armour about their shoulders. Weapons had been taken from them, but they looked unbroken in spirit, their eyes hard and unforgiving.
Coluber hadn't had time to examine them in detail during the fighting, but now he took a moment to inspect them. Broadly human in form, wider and stouter than any man, though shorter in stock. Their beards were wiry and covered their mouths and noses. Transhuman sight let Coluber see how dense and coarse their facial hair was. He'd heard their kind were miners and engineers, perhaps this was more an affectation, a gene-bred trait providing a natural air filter against inhaling grit. Or maybe he was shooting shadows in the dark with his guesses.
Coluber was a born and bred Imperial, the idea of altering the human genome disgusted him. The Emperor had decreed that the ideal Terran strain of humanity must dominate the galaxy, and the sacred purity of the human form was not to be defiled or debased. The Astartes template did not count obviously, the work of His hand and blessed in perfection.
Coluber strode up to the line and barked, "Speak if you want to live!" Sullen silence answered him and he hissed, "Tell me how many guns you have! Tell me how to enter the mountain!"
Nothing but silence came back and Ferrac groaned, "They won't speak, believe me, I worked a few over on the way here. Not a word out of them."
Maru agreed, "Their minds are closed, stubborn beyond sanity. They will die before giving up a word. The Skitarii are bound by code-cant to silence."
"Then they're useless," Reddam hissed, "Let me dispose of them."
Coluber held up a hand, "Not yet, I do not need them to speak to be of use. The next attack will come as soon as our Brothers are fit and well again, preparations must be made."
"Whatever you're planning it better be good," Ferrac growled.
"They have an advantage in the Silica Animus, we require an advantage of our own," Coluber explained, "Get the Cohorts ready, distribute Melta-bombs to all squads, lacking the Ceberii's tricks we'll have to break the Machines the hard way. Maru do what you can to fix your mechanisms, we attack at dawn. Reddam, bring up Bahamat⦠I have a special mission in mind for you."
