Legends of the Smoke jaguars Chapter 43
Sedaxus breathed out a sigh of relief as they touched down in Implacable Judgement's starboard hangar. It had been a harrowing battle, more costly than expected, but they had won through regardless. The Orks had been well struck and goaded into a frenzy, just as he had wanted. The pieces were set and the game in motion, but that didn't erase the cost.
As the ramp lowered to let in harsh light Engar muttered, "Two dead, a bad showing against Orks."
"War is a costly business," Damolos sighed as they watched Xavaar carry Arkqas' remains down the ramp to where a waiting Apothecary stood ready, Reductor primed to harvest the gene-seed.
Engar remarked, "He took it hard, losing a friend is never easy."
"Never would have expected it from Night Lords," Damolos sighed.
"No more Night Lords," Sedaxus reprimanded, "We're one now."
"Tell that to the Apothecary's," Engar snorted, "I overheard them arguing about the purity of bloodlines and the risks of mixing gene-stocks."
"That's their problem," Sedaxus dismissed, "We have work to do."
The remaining squads had departed so the trio were the last to disembark. Within the hanger a coordinated confusion of mortals and Transhumans milled about, disembarking Space Marines pushing against a tide of ground crew dragging equipment to the weary gunships. Even as engines were secured they were climbing over wings and fuselage, calling out battle damage and inspecting stealth baffles. The work was hurried and desperate, and well it should be, they weren't out of danger by a long shot, the gunships could have to fly again at a moment's notice and they had to be ready for anything.
"Looks like we're not the last ones back," Engar noted.
"Won't be long," Sedaxus affirmed, "Then we set our trap."
"Check the vox-net casualty feeds," Damolos interjected, "We weren't the only team to suffer losses. A few teams lost someone, none lost two, but it will still hurt. Especially for the scout-novices."
"They'll get over it," Sedaxus sniffed.
Engar removed his helm to give him a strange look but Sedaxus ignored it as one last gunship coasted through the atmospheric integrity field. It settled down on bursts of thrust, its hide marked by deep scores and its wings charred. Probably caught in the impromptu atomonic detonation, scorched badly, but still flying. The ramp slammed down and three weary squads trooped out and a gaggle of scout-novices, those in Midnight-clad carrying a bier with a corpse laid out upon it. Sedaxus nodded as his count was complete and opened the vox to say, "Bridge, this is Sedaxus. Set course for Copan XII, best possible speed. Don't engage the Reflex shields until we're well underway, I want the Orks to see where we're going."
He snapped the vox off and made to head out but was brought up short by Engar's hand on his elbow. Sedaxus paused in curiosity and asked, "What?"
"The squads," Engar hissed, "You need to speak to them."
"Why?"
"They've suffered losses, you need to offer your sympathies."
Sedaxus blinked under his helm and remarked, "I don't do sympathy."
"Then you'd better start," Damolos growled, "You're no Moritat anymore, your our leader. Act like it."
Sedaxus shook his helm and deflected, "They're Space Marines, losses are inevitable, we all know it."
"The concerns of your troops aren't to be dismissed so blithely," Engar growled, "You want them to follow you, then you have to get it into your head that leadership isn't a right, it's a duty."
"But I'm awful at small talk," Sedaxus protested.
"This isn't about you, it's about them," Damolos urged, "Look at Xavaar, do you think he's excited about the next fight?"
All eyes turned to the Sorcerer, who was sitting forlornly on an empty munition crate. He gripped his staff in both hands and leant his forehead against it, his gaze far away and thoughts elsewhere. He looked drained, all vital energy stolen from him by Arkqas' death, grief welling up within him. Sedaxus gulped as he saw what effect the losses had inflicted on the Sorcerer's spirit and realised the pair were right, if all the squads felt this way their fighting spirit would dwindle to nothing.
Reluctantly he turned to the latest arrivals and hesitantly approached, Damolos and Engar in tow. Those in black took off without a word, but those with winged helms remained, watching as an Apothecary drilled into the corpse of their fallen brother with faces exposed to the light. Sedaxus saw it was Yertan Snakeskin, his lidless eyes sorrowful as he watched the collection of his Brother's genic legacy.
"Humrph!" Sedaxus announced.
Yertan turned his head and snarled, "What do you want?!"
"You lost a Brother," Sedaxus started then winced at the stupid statement, "I came to see how you are coping."
"We don't need your concern," Yertan growled, "Mevart died in this mad quest, at your order."
"He accepted the risk same as us," Sedaxus protested.
"Don't talk to me about risk," Yertan hissed.
Suddenly Sedaxus' vox-tickled as Damolos urged, "Take your helm off you fool."
"Huh?" Sedaxus started then caught on and reached up to remove his helm. Bright lights ached at his eyes but he bore the pain and looked Yertan in the eye and said, "I am sorry for your loss."
Surprisingly the gesture seemed to mollify Yertan and he sighed, "No, I am sorry for shouting at you. Grief is not so easily borne for Space Marines as mortals think. You were right to order us to battle; I do not doubt it was necessary. We will be ready when the call next comes."
"You will be welcome to fight at my side," Sedaxus began to say, but then was rudely interrupted.
From across the bay came a loud crash, followed by furious voices, shouting curses at the top of their lungs. All heads turned but Sedaxus was already in motion, sprinting towards the source of the disturbance. He pushed past confused Space Marines of both orders, forcing his way to where a loud clamour was arising. He shoved aside a black-clad warrior and found a brawl breaking out, two Space Marine grappling on the floor, punching and kneeing each other with wild abandon. Sedaxus saw Juru He Who Thunders trying to head-butt young Meske, still bearing vicious scars on his cheek. They were thrashing the living daylights out of each other, but it would be mere moments until one of them went for a knife.
"You, you and you, grab them, now!" Sedaxus ordered the stunned Space Marines looking on. At his command ceramite gauntlets grabbed the pair, heaving them apart. The pair glared murderously at each other from a kneeling position, both battered, bruised and breathing hard. Meske's cheek was broken badly but Juru's nose was bent and puffy, both having landed telling blows in the brawl.
Sedaxus loomed over them and barked, "What the Frak is going on here?!"
"He insulted us!" Juru barked.
"No I didn't," Meske hissed.
"You called us gutter-trash!" Juru yelled furiously.
"I didn't mean it," Meske protested.
"Yes you did," Damolos interjected from behind Sedaxus.
"Well they deserved it," Meske snarled.
Sedaxus shook his head in exasperation and lamented, "We're just back from one mission, about to plunge into another, and you pick now to brawl?! We will soon depend on each other, need each other. We won't survive five minutes if we don't have each other's back!"
"I would never turn my back on scum like that," Meske hissed.
"Smart," Juru snarled, "The moment you do, I'm going to plunge a knife into it."
Engar leaned into Sedaxus' ear and whispered, "Everybody's watching, you have to do something." Sedaxus realised all squads were surrounding them, watching keenly to see what he would do. It occurred to him then that his earlier efforts had only been papering over the cracks. He'd bullied and berated the squads into cooperating, bribed them with new weapons, but they hadn't got over their bitter grudge, the memory of Brothers lost in the fires of Heresy still lingering. Arkqas' declaration of a united force seemed laughable in the face of this, strange how things could change in only an hour.
Sedaxus stood over the pair and growled, "I won't have fighting in my ranks, I won't have us at each other's throats! You will work together willingly, or I'll make you!"
"You wouldn't dare…" Meske protested, only to be silenced by Sedaxus' fist slamming into his face, breaking it with a crunch.
"Ha! Take that you…" Juru yelled only to find Sedaxus' hand sweeping about to break his cheekbone with a backhanded blow.
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," Sedaxus declared, "That is the law of the Smoke Jaguar! Anyone who follows me and raises his hand against a fellow will suffer punishment in kind. Break a bone, I will break yours. Spill blood and I will see yours flow. Take a life; I will rip your head from your shoulders!"
"Now hold on," Yertan protested from the crowd.
But Sedaxus shouted, "Again and again I must repeat myself! Orks to one side, the Red Flayer to the other, grinding us between them. We are racing into the jaws and death and our one slim hope is to stand united! The Orks don't care what colours we wear, the Red Flayer will burn our bones all the same. To them we are all the same and they will kill each and every one of us if we don't unite. Anyone who isn't fighting for our survival is driving us into the embrace of death. You are Night Lords and Raven Guard no more. There are no sides save us or them, living or dead. If you are not with us, then you are against us. You are Smoke Jaguars or you are my enemies!"
Sullen silence swept over the crowd as all chewed upon his words, then from the back called Sergeant Gorth, "This day a Night Lord laid down his life for mine. I count the sons of Nostramo my enemies no longer. Smoke Jaguars, one and all!"
Herran cried aloud, "I am with the Smoke Jaguars!"
"Aye," Xavaar called, "Smoke Jaguars, every last man among us!"
Calls of affirmation rang loud, some eager others sullen, but all agreed. Sedaxus was satisfied with their allegiance and turned to the kneeling pair growling, "And you two?"
Juru looked angry but spat, "I understand, I will not pursue this whelp's insult."
Meske grunted, "I'll leave the matter be."
Sedaxus waved the pair to stand, and they shook off their kin as they stalked away. Sedaxus watched them go, knowing the matter was far from settled and under his breath muttered, "Those two will be trouble down the line." Still there was not much he could do about it now, they were racing into battle, facing a confrontation that none were likely to survive. He could only trust they would put aside their feuding in the face of a common enemy, else everyone would be ground to dust by two opposing armies.