Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 71
Next go for the tongue. It was written in the Testimony that humans are social creatures and as such an ability to communicate was essential. An individual defines themselves in relation to others and group consensus forms from an exchange of ideas and information. From this grows a narrative, that encompasses all the individuals and their reactions will be shaped by the implications laced within. A man can be sent into paroxysms of terror by a single whisper in the dark or be inspired to noble sacrifice by a fearless declamation from a leader. The nature of the danger does not matter, it is the texture of communication that informs their response. Take your enemy's tongue and you control the narrative; thus it was written, thus shall it be.
Aapo slinked through the twilight gloom on his belly, carefully negotiating tangles of wires hanging in the narrow shaft. He moved a few inches at a time, brushing aside cables and withered purity seals. The work of generations of Tech-priests was evidenced in the haphazard knots of wiring and exposed mechanisms. The priests of the clockwork god felt more at home among devices and Motive Force than the company of the living, they cared nothing for shock or sparks, though Aapo bitterly reflected few among them would be able to fit into this narrow tube.
Aapo finally found the junction box he was seeking and picked apart a weft of cables. A red cable, that was what he had been told to find but his lips drew back in annoyance as he realised they were all dusty grey, pigments fading with the passage of centuries. An impulse to rip them all out crossed his mind, but he checked his anger, the objective was not to blind the foe but to draw them near. Slowly he followed each wire back to its origin point, eliminating the options one by one till he found the right port. Carefully he snipped the wire, then tied both ends into his handheld comm-unit, gifting the Smoke Jaguars access to the internal vox-network.
Task completed Aapo backed out, all the way along the maintenance tube, till his feet poked into open air and he dropped onto a metal gantry hanging over a bowel-loosening drop. He crouched low, wary of detection but there was nothing save the whirring of gears and the humming of capacitors. The basement of the vox-array was badly lit, creating more shadow than light but multiple levels of machinery worked tirelessly to process the signal traffic above the surface. Through the mesh grille of the gantry he could see the hard floor ten stories below, with nothing between him and a fatal drop save a thin weave of metal, the Tech-priest indifference to safety was universal. This outpost was the main vox-relay between three of Xilbalba's sinkhole cities, linking them to orbit when the sky currents permitted. The vox-masts had to be replaced every few years as corrosion ate away their structures, but the machinery in this cavern was ancient, as old as the Boscage, built by Imperial hands during the Dawning.
"The dream weaving begins," Aapo whispered into his closed channel vox-bead.
"The setting of the sun waits for no man," Takana hissed in the vox.
"Water drips on the rock but once a year, still the canyon it carves is deep," Aapo protested.
Hanphu cut in, "The Barking Parrot sings a pretty song, while the Howling Jay steals the berries!"
Takana accepted this admonishment, "The trifold path of stealth, a winnowing comes, Illchosen move as the autumn leaf."
Aapo bit down on his annoyance at his hated title and focused on the noises closing from above. A harsh stablight split the gloom, followed by a dozen more, along with the clomp of boots. A group of lay-adepts, descending into the workings of the vox-relay, come to investigate the disruptive static his comm-unit was pumping into their clear channels. Their boots rang through the buzzing of machinery and their tread shook the catwalks with the clumsiness of their feet. They hung together, none venturing too far, afraid of what may be lurking in the depths.
Aapo slipped off the gantry, moving hand over hand along a supporting girder, nothing between him and a deadly fall if he stumbled. The lay-adepts had no idea he was stalking their path and as they walked he listened to their conversation, "The Orruk have reached Xilbalba. You cannot know that, there has been no muster call. Three auspex stations went silent. That is not proof! King Denshu has issued no word. Would he tell us if there were an invasion? You are jumping at nothing. I'm telling you the Orruk have come and we cannot stop them! Marajo must have fallen!"
Aapo smiled at their fearful gossip. Word had already spread of their murders, but as planned the people thought the Greenskins had invaded from Marajo, expanding their war to the vulnerable moon. He could imagine the panic that must be spreading in the deep cities, the terror stalking the street. Methuselah may dominate this moon, but he could not rebuff people's dread with a word. Fear of the Bronze Beast would soon be surpassed by fear of the Orruk, or it would if the Smoke Jaguars had anything to say about it.
The lay-adepts paused at a junction box and a brief argument ensued. Someone had to check the Machine Spirits within, but none wanted to be left alone as the rest pressed on. A scuffle was narrowly averted by the most dominant among them and an unlucky soul was left behind, muttering under his breath as they set down their tools and began fiddling with an incense burner. The rest descended a rickety stair, abandoning their comrade to the cruel mercy of Aapo.
The Doan was utterly silent as he shifted from his girder to a vertical pole, not shaking the catwalk in the slightest. The ten-story drop sucked at his heels but his approach was soft as the falling leaf. Without power armour his weight was no issue and he alighted the catwalk behind the lay-adept, his prey completely unaware as he drew his knife. Aapo's tread was the merest suggestion of a ghost as he drew near. Another tread and he was close enough to smell the sweat and grease baked into the man's pores, another and his breath tickled the back of the man's neck. The lay-adept stiffened in shock but Aapo's knife slid between the C5 and C6 vertebrae, severing the spinal cord in a swift thrust.
The man's body went limp and Aapo quickly hoisted the corpse over his shoulder, grabbing a descending pole with his free hand. He descended into the depths with his burden, moving down a level. Amongst the catwalks and girders bulbous devices whirred, performing tasks beyond his understanding. Dust was thick, and yet his passage left no wake, he may not have mastered the Shadow-path but his training in stealth would be considered exceptional by any other reckoning.
The lay-adepts moved unwittingly along the catwalks, climbing down another flight of stairs, unaware their footsteps were being stalked. Aapo kept pace despite the weight of the body, keeping out of sight all the while. Several times the group stopped to check junctions, but some instinct compelled them to stay together, sweeping stablights through the gloom in constant sweeps.
Aapo was just climbing onto the catwalk when a stablight swept a girder, illuminating Takana. The Dark Fury was crouched in a gargoyle-like pose, his claws extended and wings spread wide. For a moment he was exposed but then the stablight swept on. A second later the alarmed man swung his light back to the spot but Takana was gone. Aapo's genhanced eyes tracked Takana swinging under the girder, dropping another level in freefall and the Doan was impressed. Even without employing his mutated Shadow-path the Dark Fury was silent as the grave, his immense weight causing no tremor as he landed on a lower girder. Aapo was humbled as he realised he still had much to learn.
Many cries rang out in distress, "It's gone! What?! There was something there, right there! I don't see anything. I'm telling you there was something right there! Orruk?! Don't be foolish, there are no Orruk on Xilbalba. What about the auspex stations?! Kommandos, Orruk Kommandos! Stop scaring them, I'm telling you there are no Orruk down here. You go first then! As you will, if you are too cowardly I will show you there's nothing to fear!"
Aapo was inching along an adjoining catwalk and drew out some grappling cord to begin tying the corpse up between two supporting poles. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the bold lay-adept testily stomp down a narrow stair, alighting on the next catwalk below. He scoffed at the cravenness of his fellows and turned to berate them, and that was when Takana struck. A burst of jet exhaust sent the Dark Fury diving upon his prey, wings extended to the fullest. He was past in the blink of an eye, nothing save a blur in the gloom, and in his arms was carried the broken body of the lay-adept. A Space Marine's mass in motion struck like the impact of a freight train, shattering every bone on contact. The lay-adept died before he even knew he was under attack, and all his fellows ever saw was their comrade disappearing in a haze of shade.
Screams rang loud, the lay-adept's courage broken. They turned to flee and headed straight for Aapo. The Doan swung over the rail and hung below the catwalk as they ran towards him, only to be confronted by the splayed corpse of his first victim. Aapo had left the body hanging by the wrists, feet lifted off the gantry, a dead man crucified for all to see. The screams rang even louder as the lay-adepts turned and ran, jostling against each other in their frantic haste to get away. They trod on each other's feet and dropped stablights in their terror, the smell of piss wafting on the air as bladders emptied. Aapo was disappointed by their craven hearts, these were no foes of quality.
Up the stairs they fled, the fastest running ahead of the slow. Three flights they ascended and finally came to rest against a bulky device that purred in blissful ignorance. Here they took stock, heart thundering and breaths ragged. They leaned back on the surrounding machines and gasped, "What was that?! A monster! Orruks, I'm telling you it was Orruk! He's right, we need to get out of here. How many were there? I didn't see. There could be hundreds, there could be... gluk..."
A speaker froze, his body tense and jaw wide open. Everybody gawped as four red stains began to spread over his breast, oozing around gleaming claw tips protruding from his ribs. Takana had climbed up to the other side of the device and rammed his talons through its bulk, in one side and out the other, to skewer a man through the back, without anyone guessing the hunter was so close. Takana withdrew the talons with a snick and the dying man fell onto his face, but his comrades were already running.
Across the catwalks they fled, feet quickened by the terror of the hunt. Instinct told them they were the prey and the primal terror for the predator saw them race faster than the wind. They could not get out though, with careful manoeuvring the Smoke Jaguars had steered them away from the doors, arranging matters so they had but one path left open. To the central control console they ran, and there they reacted as their training demanded.
The lay-adepts fell upon the controls, hurried twisting dials and pressing runes with no regard for the sanctity of the Machine Spirits. One man grabbed a vox-horn and began yelling, "Orruk! Orruks are after us. This is Jeyere vox-relay, can anyone hear us?! Orruk Kommandos are killing us! Please send help, someone help us!"
A hail of las cut short their cry, a torrent of coherent light scything through them from the side. They fell to the floor with smoke rising from scores of wounds. The Multi-las swept over them all, none escaped, not one man, all were reaped as the crop before the threshing machine. Hanphu emerged from the shadows, K'oy cackling evilly on his shoulder as he nodded at a task well done.
"They got the message off?" Takana asked as he closed.
"Their words are on all the vox-waves," Hanphu confirmed.
"Good, loop the signal back and set it to repeat on a continuing cycle. I want all Xilbalba to hear them die over and over."
Aapo joined them, "Should we destroy this place?"
"No," Takana rebuked, "Collect your gear and remove the bodies. We'll dump them in the wastelands and let the rescuer's imaginations run wild. Word will spread like wildfire and the cities will riot. The PDF will be tied up in civil suppression and Methuselah's armies will be fully occupied when we make our next move."
"Which is?" Aapo pressed. Takana didn't answer, instead turning to start collecting the dead. Reinforcements must surely be on their way, but the Smoke Jaguars would be long gone by the time they arrived. Only mysteries would be left behind, and the sorrowful cry of the doomed, crying over the vox-waves into the ears of every man and woman on Xilbalba.