Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 65
The sulphuric sea was well named, a vista of crashing mustard-yellow waves that stank most foully. Nothing lived in those waters, nothing could, the entire ocean was a polluted soup of mixing toxins, fed by the volcanoes just over the horizon. Strange lights glowed below the surface, brief flashes of illumination that came and went without warning, occasionally blasting through the surface in geysers of chemicals. The violence of the sea was reflected in the sky above, dark clouds hanging perilously low, reflecting the yellow light, or lit from within by green sheets of static discharge. A storm was brewing, one that would lash the continent bare and time grew shorter alarmingly fast.
The PDF outpost was a low collection of Ferrocrete bunkers, pitted by acid-marks and with narrow Armourglass slits for observation. An array of corroding auspex and vox-masts rose atop the facility, metal chewed away by vicious chemicals. Nobody lingered outside, no patrols extending their sight. This outpost wasn't worth attacking, so far from the sinkhole cities that it added little to the defence network. The only reason it existed was some distant cleric with a map thought there was a gap that needed plugging. Practically the only useful function it could serve would be if some Orruk raiders got lost and landed in the wrong part of the planet.
Aapo didn't give it much thought as he clamped a Transonic mine to a wall. Derived from the same STC that empowered their Obsidian Blades it could provide as much penetration as a Melta charge. He flung himself back as the mine triggered, subsonic vibrations seeking the perfect pitch, then locking in as the molecules danced. Ferrocrete collapsed into powder, leaving a gaping three-metre hole in the wall, exposing a latrine of all things. A PDF trooper was caught with his britches down, eyes widening in shock as his jaw dropped. Takana was on him in an instant, a single lightning claw separating head from shoulders with one sweep.
Before the body hit white tiles the Smoke Jaguars advanced, moving into the facility. Alarms were blaring, warning of atmospheric breaches, but speed had been deemed more vital than covertness this day, to hit them hard and take the guards piecemeal. Still Aapo paused at the door, glancing back across the low hills. Spectre of Woe was hidden among those gullies, the Rhino having carried them far, it would be waiting when they returned with Engar, so they had sworn.
"The Illchosen moves slow as a mudsloth!" Takana snarled over his shoulder.
"Keep up," Xavaar snapped as he disappeared down a narrow corridor, "We must cull their numbers before they amass and overwhelm us."
"Tear the heart out of them?!" Takana grinned.
"Just this once," Xavaar agreed.
The four Smoke Jaguars ran headlong into the facility, K'oy clinging to Hanphu's pauldron. It did not take long for them to run into resistance, a squad of PDF troopers, with rubber coats buttoned tight and rebreathers firmly attached. They may have thought the alarm was an atmospheric breach, but they soon learned differently.
Takana was upon them before they could register him, his Lightning claws blazing. A twin sweep opened up chests and diced organs, sending three men to their deaths. The Dark Fury's wings snapped wide, impaling another man in the throat, even as his left arm thrust four blades into another chest. Half the enemy was dead, and they had yet to fire a shot.
Xavaar didn't give them the chance, he struck out with his staff, Transonic head blurring. A man's chest imploded, crushed organs leaking from where snapped ribs had torn through skin. Another guard found his courage and lashed out with a bayonet, scoring a Ceramite flank. Xavaar looked upon him, setting his Psyker power loose. To Aapo's surprise nothing happened, the man drew back his gun for another stab, aiming for the armpit. Aapo was on him first, grabbing the shoulder from behind, pulling tight then sinking his knife into the gut. He ripped upwards, impaling the heart and the trooper died with the smallest gasp.
Aapo dropped the corpse and looked about, only to find the other three men dead. Hanphu had clubbed a man down with his fist, while Takana despatched the remaining pair with expert swiftness. Ten men died in a few seconds, barely had they been aware of the attack before their lives were ended. Aapo felt the rushing of his blood but denied the sensation of pleasure that came with it. He told himself he hadn't enjoyed it; he could almost believe it was true.
Xavaar poked a body with the butt of his staff muttering, "This is wrong."
"Killing men for doing their sworn duty," Aapo sighed.
Xavaar however spat, "They served the Bronze Beast, maybe not wittingly but that is no excuse. There are none on this moon who can claim to be free of sin."
"Evil is in the hearts of all men," Hanphu quoted from the Testimony.
"Yes, but what truly vexes me is my Psyker power is blocked," Xavaar hissed, "Some form of psy-damper perhaps."
"My Shadow-path is also denied me," Takana confessed.
"What does this mean?" Aapo gulped.
Xavaar snapped, "I don't know, but we have no time to waste wondering. Move on, we must be swifter than the wind!"
They pressed on, moving deeper into the facility. Drab Ferrocrete walls flashed past, corridors coming and going as blinks in the corner of the eye. Always they drove for the heart of the outpost, where the greatest concentrations of foes awaited. The PDF didn't seem to understand they had been invaded, trooper's voices were heard from a comm room, shouting into Vox horns, denying it was possible and requesting repeat of orders. Aapo turned his eyes away as Hanphu cut them down with his Multi-las, culling them before they could clarify the situation.
Before he knew it they stumbled into a bunk room, filled with panicking troopers. There was a score of them and they were half-undressed. Roused from slumber, eyes bleary and struggling to get coats out of lockers and rebreathers fitted. They gawped in disbelief as four Astartes broke into the chamber, weapons in hand and eyes filled with murderlust.
"Take them!" Xavaar snarled.
"But they're unarmed," Aapo squawked.
"Good, make sure they stay that way!"
What followed next was not battle, but slaughter. The Smoke Jaguars showed no mercy, reaping lives with vicious skill. Takana's claws unmade lives with every gesture. Hanphu was less elegant but equally ruthless, smashing and clubbing men and women down without restraint. Xavaar lashed out with his staff, his psyker power was blocked somehow but Transhuman strength made short work of any opposition. Aapo put his misgivings aside as he dove in, Obsidian Blade flashing. He slit throats and severed spines with deadly skill, hacking and slashing in the furious melee. Blood painted his face and weak hands beat against his chest. He closed his ears to their cries they were enemies he told himself, servants of the Bronze Beast, even if they did not know it.
Within seconds their courage broke, half dead on the floor, the rest fleeing for the door. None of them made it. With claw, knife, club and staff they ended the Troopers to the last man, moving with Transhuman speed through the fleeing mob, culling lives with every gesture. No Orruk could have made a bloodier end, the massacre was complete and absolute. The Smoke Jaguars allowed none to escape, judgement had come and all were found wanting.
The last Trooper fell with blood pouring from her mouth and they were free to advance. Without comment they stepped over the piled corpses and moved one by one through an open door into a gaol. A row of cages, bleak and unforgiving greeted them. Bare metal bars covered cells that were nothing but alcoves in the wall, without heat or bed. Lighting came from a single lumen strip running between the cells and toilets were nothing but small drains in the floor. It was dank and stank of sulphur, indicating they were on the cusp of the polluted sea.
In the furthest cell they found Engar and the sight made Aapo gasp. The Lord Headsman had been stripped of his armour, left naked and shivering on the cold flagstones. His pale skin was ghostly white and his veins were covered in needle marks. His hands were gone, surgically removed as were his feet. The reason he had not attempted escape was plain to see, he could not run or fight. The insult given to the Chapter was grave indeed, and Aapo found much of his guilt over the massacre fading as outrage took hold. Engar was crippled, helpless as the day he was born, this was no fate worthy of a Founder of the Smoke Jaguars. Despite that he lifted his head and his eyes widened as they approached.
"Engar!" Xavaar cried as he stooped to help his old comrade sit up.
"Run..." Engar groaned as his truncated wrist beat on the dappled Ceramite of the Skinned Man's breastplate.
"We will," Xavaar promised, "As soon as we get you out of here."
"Not me dolt," Engar hissed, "You need to get out, he's coming, he's here!"
"We know, we have the Bronze Beast pinned, we can kill him."
"No!" Engar spat, "You can't beat him, he's beyond any of you. I've never seen such strength, he's like nothing I've ever seen before. Not Chaos, something else, more potent than any of you. He'll kill you all."
Xavaar however countered, "I don't care. For five centuries we've been by each other's sides, fighting together tooth and nail. A thousand Orks fell at our hands, the Red Flayer himself couldn't beat us. Not once in all those years has the word friend been uttered between us, we didn't have to say it, we lived it. We witnessed the passing of Sedaxus together, we lost Arkqas and Damolos and I'll be damned before I leave you."
"Your sentimentality sickens me," a low growl echoed from the door. Aapo spun about and found the way blocked by a giant in bronze plate. Methuselah's bulk filled the doorway, his broad shoulders scraping the edges of the frame. Power armour he wore, but of an ancient make, unlike any Aapo had seen before. Bands of Ceramite covered his arms and legs, clanking as he shifted position and exposing a crude exoskeletal frame at the joints. Servo-motors growled, not the elegant fibre-bundles of Mark IV but a far more primitive design. The shoulder pads were not single-piece pauldrons but stacked bands, layered to describe a curve and his right hand was encased in an enormous lightning claw.
The helmet was the oddest part, a shaped curve of Plasteel, without rebreather or autosenses, crowned by a red horsehair plume. A glassic visor covered his eyes and a vox-mike hung near his lip but his face was exposed. This suit could not protect the wearer from the ravages of space. There was no sealed vacuum protection, no life-support to speak of, not even a Pharmacopoeia. The breastplate was a solid mass and upon it was a lone raptor's head, set against a backdrop of crossed lightning bolts. Memory stirred in Aapo's brain, knowledge implanted by his hypno-indoctrination but never before used. Mark I power armour, older than old, a design retired long ago and that had no business existing anymore.
As Methuselah entered the room Aapo tensed to engage, but Xavaar stood frozen, unable to give the command to attack. The Shade-Seer was immobilised, staring in disbelief. Aapo had never seen him like this, shocked to speechlessness but Methuselah only grinned, basking in the attention. The Bronze Beast flexed his arms, ancient servo motors grinding as his plates shifted. Still Xavaar stood aghast, leaving Aapo floundering in confusion.
"It can't be..." Xavaar breathed at last.
"And yet it is," Methuselah boasted.
"Run you idiots, run!" Engar spat.
Aapo dared to question, "Shade-Seer, what are we facing?"
"I was wrong," Xavaar whispered, "So utterly wrong."
"Tell them," Methuselah crowed, "Tell them the name of their destroyer."
"But you can't exist," Xavaar denied.
Takana interrupted furiously, "What breed of Astartes is he?!"
Xavaar uttered in horror, "He's no Space Marine at all, not Legiones Astartes but Legiones Cataegis... he's a Thunder Warrior!"