Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 50
Sedaxus watched as Victory's Crucible was loaded, teams of serfs lugging heavy crates of equipment up the gunship's ramp into the hold. Rations and tents, vox-sets and power armour tools, bolt rounds medicae devices and more. The Shadowhawk's hold was fit to burst and yet there were still piles of crates sitting on the roof of the Black Ziggurat, leaving the mortals to argue as to how to fit the rest. Sedaxus left them to it, looking up at the red-black of night. Somewhere up there wars were brewing, Greenskins multiplying and threats growing. The Smoke Jaguars had to be ready to face them, but they could not do so while divided, so Sedaxus had made a radical decision.
"You're sure this is the best course?" Engar asked at his elbow.
"It's the only option," Sedaxus sighed, "We can't continue like this, if we stay cooped up together we'll slaughter ourselves."
Xavaar didn't sound convinced as he said, "But this will change our entire structure, we can't build effective companies without in-depth cross training."
"Then we'll adapt our strategies, learn to fight at the squad level. Be sly and cunning, instead of direct and brutal."
Engar argued, "The Codex Astartes wouldn't approve."
"Screw the Codex," Sedaxus snorted, "We don't need it."
Their conversation was cut off as a party of Space Marines crested the top of the Ziggurat. Juru and Cantus, leading the survivors of their claws. Few in number, no more than seven between them, barely enough to be counted as combat units. Yet their pride was fierce and their suspicions sharp, eyes flickering to the loaded gunship with wary paranoia.
They drew up before him and Cantus queried, "You called for us, Shade-lord?"
"Indeed I did," Sedaxus replied, "I have to inform you of a change."
"Skip the pleasantries and explain that," Juru hissed pointing at the Shadowhawk.
Sedaxus grimaced for a moment then sighed, "Fine, we'll cut right to it. You're being sent into the jungles, to establish remote campsites. We'll drop you off separately across a wide area, spreading the squads over a few thousand kilometres of wilderness."
"And do what, sit on our arses and wait for you to summon us?" Juru retorted.
"Do whatever you want," Sedaxus replied, "Hunt big game, run war games, stalk the wilds, build a tent-city or a palace in the forest if you like vainglory. I'm sending enough equipment and serfs to sustain a squad for a year, you'll be free to decide what to do with them, when you get there."
"Exile," Cantus growled, "You're getting rid of us."
But Sedaxus replied, "I'm giving you breathing room and the freedom to be yourselves. Let's face it, Deliverance-born and sons of Nostramo are never going to fit together, we'll be forever at each other's throats. If we stay packed in together, we will kill ourselves in a half-year. So, I decided it's best to spread out a bit, I reckon a hundred kilometres of wild jungle should be tolerable elbow room."
"And what of all this?" Cantus asked, gesturing at the rising Fortress-Monastery.
"This base will be our logistical and strategic hub, but we'll keep the squads dispersed. The Shadowhawk will be dropping squads off every hundred kilometres, what you do after that is up to you."
"This sounds too good," Juru probed, "What's the catch?"
Sedaxus explained, "Three things, first stay the hell off each other's patch. Don't go wandering into other squads' territory and we should have no issues. I know you'll break this rule anyway, I expect raiding and thieving galore, but Engar will be watching to make sure nobody goes too far."
"You'll know my displeasure when you hear Giant's Roar at the nape of your neck," Engar hissed.
"What are the other things?" Cantus hastily asked.
"Second, train the recruits I send your way."
"Recruits?" Juru started.
Sedaxus nodded to the side, where a half-dozen warriors were cresting the lip of the Ziggurat. They were fresh-faced and immature, their scalps shaved and implant sockets raw, while their eyes had yet to adopt the black hue that came with maturity. The unsteadiness of their gait told an experienced eye this was their first time in power armour and they looked nervous.
Juru's lips drew back over his lips in a hungry grin as he said, "New blood, for us?"
"To replenish your claws," Sedaxus confirmed, "Our numbers are distressingly depleted, we needed to jump some scout-novices up earlier than planned. They're raw and callow, untempered blades, but they have promise. I want you to train them up, induct them into your claws and make warriors of them. True warriors mind, I have no use for undisciplined ruffians. Remember your lives will depend on them in battle, so you have good incentive to make them act like real Space Marines."
"I smell Corax's blood in them, but they're young enough to beat into shape," Juru chuckled, "I can work with this."
"And the third thing?" Cantus probed.
Sedaxus continued, "You go out to train and roam free but should battle call, you will answer. When I vox-message you to fight you come, no excuses, no hesitation. I require warriors who will be there when I need them, ready and willing to fight. If you think to hare off on your own, remember future supplies, serfs and recruits depend on my good will and my favour will be with those who stand and fight when called upon. You shall have freedom, but you must earn it with loyalty."
Juru and Cantus paused and shared a loaded glance, but then Cantus nodded fractionally and Juru stated, "So long as it's you doing the calling, we will come."
"Then I suggest you get moving, there's a lot to be done," Sedaxus replied.
He stood aside as they led their claws to the new bloods, barking commands at the youths with eager relish. The novices practically fell over themselves to hurry up the ramp of the gunship, followed by jeering veterans. Once inside the last supplies were thrown on board and the ramp closed. Sedaxus stood firm as vector thrust washed out of the starting engines, then Victory's Crucible lifted off and soared into the midnight sky.
The wind settled and Engar muttered, "Two down, forty to go. Thankfully enough scouts survived to rebuild the squads, to a degree."
"We'll send the next batch off tomorrow," Sedaxus affirmed, "Isolating the squads was the only way to keep them from tearing each other to bits. Deliverance-born and Sons of Nostramo need space to coexist."
"Not only from their rivals but from their allies," Xavaar remarked, "Keeping them apart stops them planning an uprising, or a coup against you."
"That too," Sedaxus grunted.
Xavaar however sighed, "This is all well and good, but we still need a training cadre and someone to teach them."
Sedaxus agreed, "I'll keep the Scout-novices close to home, so we can drill honour and duty into their skulls, before that lot teach them bad habits. Sergeant Gorth would be a good Master of recruits; he has no squad anymore and grasps we have to work together. I'll tell him the good news, once we've seen the rest off."
"You do that," Xavaar said, "I have business with the recruits myself."
"Oh?"
"Scout-novice Hesperis has reported seeing visions of doom, I suspect the taint of the Warp is in him. I plan to test him, but I am near certain he will prove to be a Psyker. If so, I must take him under my wing, as my first apprentice."
"So, we have the start of a Librarius," Sedaxus mused, "Apothecaries, Techmarines, everything we need. Once Alar-Median's Forge-tender arrives we can start thinking about our campaign against the Greenskins."
Xavaar pondered, "We even have a Headsman, will you be recruiting some acolytes Engar? Engar... wha... he's gone! But he was standing right here a moment ago."
"He does that," Sedaxus snorted, "Just wait till he starts popping up again, he loves sneaking up behind people."
"Better not try that grox-dung on me, I'll make his nightmares walk," Xavaar muttered as he turned and strode away.
Sedaxus was left alone, looking over the foundations of the Smoke Jaguar's growing Fortress-monastery. He could almost see the future unfolding, the mighty edifice that would arise and the generations that would be forged into Space Marines. He did not know who they would be, what battles they would fight and what victories they would win, but he was sure they would be strong and fierce and loyal to the Throne. For himself he foresaw a life of war, leading Brothers into battle again and again, until the day some random Ork was a hair too fast with a knife and ended his story. He didn't mind that; it was what he was made for. Yet in his hearts he was still hurting over the many lives spent to make this future possible, the friends and comrades lost. Their sagas were over but he swore they would be remembered; their names would live so long as this fortress stood.
Sedaxus lifted his eyes to the heavens and spake, "Damolos, Nolaro, Arkqas, as soon as this place is finished I will carve your names into the deepest foundations. Every generation to come will know your names, and the names of all who died to give us this new life. This I swear: no one will ever forget you. The fallen will be forever remembered, as the Emperor's Finest."
Follow story for future tales
This is a story ive been wanting to write for a long time but struggled to get an angle on. Changing Sedaxus to a Night Lord opened up a whole range of possibilites. Future stories will follow later generations of Smoke Jaguars and i will be exploring how thousands of years of isolation has changed them from soldiers to hunters.