Legends of the Smoke Jaguars chapter 205

Chapter Master Lujan addressed the gathered officers with grim tidings, "The eastern city has fallen, any units trapped must be considered lost. No attempts to rescue stranded personnel can be considered, even if we have proof of life. Our attention must now turn to the defence of the western river bank. This barricade must be reinforced, the Orks cannot be allowed to make a crossing, holding that river is our only Practical."

The news brought no relief in the rude tent acting as a command post. In the shadow of the Sanctum Imperialis it lingered, a hastily thrown-together affair of vox sets and cogitators under a tarpaulin cover. In that space operators struggled to piece together shattered regiments and forge some order from the confusion, while their superiors debated strategy. Colonels, Majors and even a Captain awaited news, the last the highest remaining officer of his Regiment. Along with them were the Sergeants of the Storm Heralds, the Firsts from various Prowls and an envoy from House Orhlacc. Vitcos was distressed by their low numbers, not enough by his reckoning, not against Orkamemnon.

General Vregust seemed lost as he read from a data-slate, "Our causalities were far higher than predicted. Only seven Regiments can claim to be above half-strength, the rest are crippled. We have soldiers scattered everywhere, sorting them out will be a nightmare, but as they find their banners we may recover some strength. Commissars are reviewing the walking wounded to find more men able to pull a trigger, but you can forget any complex manoeuvres. The true blow is we lost almost all our armoured units. We haven't enough tanks to put together a single column. If the Orks get across the river it will come down to hand-to-hand fighting."

The General looked a state, many of his medals missing and his waxed moustache drooping. He appeared harried and afraid, shocked by the brutality of war. Vitcos guessed the man had never seen Xenos so close before, any victories to his name won against petty rebellions and low-level insurgencies. A political animal at heart the face of total war had unmanned him, any ambitions he had when he came to this world had been crushed into dust.

Lujan took up the thread, "Thankfully many Storm Heralds survived to reach the western city. Our Apothecaries estimate two-thirds of our complement will be combat-ready within three hours. We will have two hundred Space Marines to line the river, adequate force to deny an assault."

Vitcos bristled at the back as he spat, "Forget ye not that our most esteemed Kinsman was lost!"

Lujan didn't seem fazed as he replied, "A shame he did not wait till a Stompa had mounted the bridge. Still we cannot dwell on our losses but must look to the current crisis."

Vitcos was offended by the curt dismissal but Huacho interrupted, "Long is the river bank and our numbers few. To think it impenetrable is a fool's gambit."

But Lujan countered, "The Orks have no bridging equipment nor boats to attempt a crossing. Bashing some together will take considerable time. The Stompas are stuck on the wrong side and to attempt to swim that distance is a slow labour. We can pick off any Xenos that dare to sneak under our auspex and my Veterans, with Knight support, can rebuff any breakthroughs."

Vregust added to this, "Our estimates of Ork losses are wildly varied, but even our most dire analysis reports that the Xenos suffered staggering losses. Their numbers were drained considerably, at least half the Waaagh has been culled, possibly many more as well."

Lujan lifted his chin to declare, "Orkamemnon's ferocity was challenging, but his strategy was predictable. We have bled him, and he lacks the forces he needs to break us. Take heart, Astropathic contact has been made with the relief fleet and they exited the warp two hours ago. The translation was rough, they are twenty-three days away from orbit, but know that overwhelming reinforcements are en route. Three weeks, that's how long we need to hold this river bank and then Orkamemnon is finished!"

That brought glad smiles and expressions of relief, but Vitcos was not convinced. Twenty-three days was an awfully long time and anything could happen in the days to come. Well did the Smoke Jaguars know that walls were no obstacle to the cunning warrior, and Orkamemnon had proved his cunning many times over. The Warboss wouldn't have come all this way without some means to finish the kill. The only question was how.

The meeting fell into dreary minutiae of logistics, dispositions and unit rotations but Vitcos quietly slipped out the back. Beyond the tent lay masses of injured men, nursing bandaged heads and torsos. Their eyes contained horrors and many stared into infinity, lost to troubled memories. Their nightmares were not over, Commissars walked among them, judging who was yet fit to hold a lasgun. Those deemed fit would be sent to the river bank, and many who weren't as well. Death had not been avoided, only delayed.

Vitcos walked on, passing into the realm of civilians. Here refugees squatted, the rich and entitled of the Purple District, fled long before Victory Gate fell. There were far more of them than the abodes of the east could provision for and many a noble lady found her fine house had been exchanged for a dressing room in a theatre or her a parlour for a musician's loft. The smell of tightly packed humanity was oppressive, the sewers overloaded by the demands placed upon them and grime was universal. Still they were the lucky ones, the common folk had been left to rot. Arbites patrolled these streets with shock-mauls in hand, alert for looters and robbers. Grain was more precious than gold in a siege and the food stores were the most heavily defended of all.

Vitcos strode past without pause till he reached the Smoke Jaguar's base. Here his Kinsmen regrouped, readying for the fight to come. The First ignored their labours as he strode to a Chapel-barrcks, where two Serviles branded with the Headsman's mark stood vigil. Sechura and Ilquitio awaited without, making the mortals sweat but not speaking to them.

"The meeting of minds was displeasing?" Sechura quipped.

"Ask not for whom the bell tolls," Vitcos growled.

"Then our hopes boil down to one," Ilquitio stated.

"As the dreary clerk of Terra doth say: indeed."

Vitcos led them to the door, where the Serviles hastily stepped aside. No matter that they were the property of Headsmen, nobody gainsaid a Smoke Jaguar. Vitcos barged into the dark interior and found Tachna within, helm removed to show his pale face. The Terminator loomed over his prisoner, Magos Tvos, strapped to an iron chair. The bedlam of the last days had distracted them from his interrogation but with spare hours they had remembered their prisoner. Tvos sat still, a mouse in the presence of a great feline, but Tachna's head snapped about in irritation.

"Begone from this house!" Tachna snapped.

"I have questions," Vitcos rejoined.

"You have questions, but I have no tolerance for your bleating!"

"Revealed already is the most damning truth, what more is there to fear?"

"You mistake fear for rage," Tachna hissed, "The Eldest is dead, I wish for a soft body to ply my knives upon!"

Vitcos grinned, "Shall I hold his tongue out for your shears?"

"Please!" Tvos begged from his seat, "Please, there's no need for this, I offer you all I know. Threats are redundant!"

Vitcos leaned down till his pale face was level with the Magos, "You assume wrongly that a child of Curze requires a reason to inflict pain."

"You are not a Night Lord!" Tvos protested, "I know you are hybrids."

"Perhaps, but I was advised to embrace my evil, I intend to start with your flesh."

Tachna's fist clenched, "You, tell me what role you played in our origins!"

"None!" Tvos protested, "I was a minor adept of Alar-Median once, born and raised in the Boscage after the warp storms rolled in. Biologis was my speciality, but my unorthodox experiments saw me cast out. I fell into the employ of a madman, but his genic craft taught me much. After the Imperium returned I fled far and eventually used what I learned to make my new Orks!"

Sechura hissed, "The Black Orruk, what did you fashion them into?"

Tvos' voice steadied as he explained, "I blended the finest human genetic sciences with the Xenos' genome to create a stable breed. Smarter, more intelligent and self-controlled. Pariah genes regulated Waaagh energy and Astartes gene-seed bestowed considerable physical enhancements."

"Where in the underverse did you acquire gene-seed?" Sechura growled.

"From an Astartes named Engar, his progenoids were the basis of all my work."

"The fountainhead of Headsmen!" Tachna barked in outrage, "You defile our bloodline!"

"You misunderstand my vision!" Tvos wailed, "I was so close to perfection!"

Ilquitio butted in to ask, "Why lend your dark arts to Orruks?"

Tvos looked at him and said, "The human genome is fundamentally flawed. Weak, prone to mutation and ageing. Humanity is doomed in this galaxy of war and misery, a thousand years or ten thousand, it must end the same way. All the genic tricks in the galaxy can't save a dying race. But the Orkoid are so much better adapted to conflict, they thrive on carnage! I could improve them, make them smarter, make them perfect. I would be the architect of the most successful species ever seen! Perfection was within my grasp! Surely you can understand this?!"

The metal-man was mad, Vitcos realised. Not a gibbering maniac frothing at the mouth, but mad regardless. Augmentation hid his insanity but under cold logic cores and regulated hormones lurked the mind of a crazed zealot. Tvos was as lost as the devil-sons of Horus, his soul beyond salvation. Yet still he hid essential knowledge.

Vitcos placed gauntleted fingers upon one eye lens and asked, "Orkamemnon: what manner of beast did you spawn?"

Tvos sighed at the question, "A failure. A Cybork of my own design, my early experiments proved crude but they still had use. I thought he could manage an army for me, steer the mundane Orks to my will. They wouldn't accept a human leader, I knew that much, so he was the interface I utilised. Only he slipped the bonds I placed upon him and he overthrew me."

"What does he seek?" Vitcos pressed as he began to twist the metal rim in Tvos' eyesocket.

"No! Stop! I am telling you; I'm doing what you want! The Crown, he wants the crown!"

"Whyfore?!" Vitcos hissed as his hand rotated, cracking metal splinters off the magos' skull.

Tvos pleaded, "It's pre-human, from a time when the Orks weren't idiot brutes. The ancestral Krork wrought it as a psionic amplifier. It unifies and boosts Waaagh energy to unimaginable degrees. I thought to use it to make my new breed invincible, but I didn't realise it would affect Orkamemnon too. If he gets his hands on it then he'll be unstoppable, totally unstoppable!"

Vitcos' hand had nearly rotated halfway around as he hissed, "So the rampaging beast will come for the crown?"

"He won't be stopped!" Tvos wailed, "Nothing will stop him, no trap, no obstacle, certainly not a river. Orkamemnon will come, he must. That crown is everything to him, all his thoughts are bent on it. He'll find some way to get to it, he's more cunning than you can imagine! He's grown beyond my control, beyond your ability to stop!"

Vitcos wrenched the lens from the Magos' skull with a shower of sparks. Tvos slumped in despair but the Smoke Jaguar had what he needed. He straightened up and turned to drop the wrecked eye into Tachna's hand saying, "He speaks truth."

"I knew that," Tachna hissed in disgust, "Your methods are as flawed as your soul."

Vticos shrugged that off, "I embrace my sin, sup the wine of evil for once, you might enjoy it."

Sechura spoke off, "So Orkamemnon will come?"

"For certain," Vitcos agreed, "The crown is his goal, the feeble efforts of the Herald of Storms will not deny the Waaagh."

Ilquitio mused, "The crown was moved to the Sanctum Imperialis. No defence between the spire and the waters will stop the Orruk once they reach firm ground."

"No mere soldiers can stop him, but Smoke Jaguars are not given to march in straight lines. Hunters are we, and we know where our prey's watering hole lies."

"All the Smoke Jaguars united could not lay Orkamemnon low once, what certainty have we that a second clash will be to our favour?"

Vitcos eyes narrowed as he said, "This time we will not fight alone. Since the beginning we have fought as the Storm Heralds would, time they echoed our ways instead. The Codex Astartes has been found wanting, the Testimony shall be our guide henceforth. I shall seek out Arjax-lel and forge a compact, united we shall face Orkamemnon and lay the prey low. As the Sun-Emperor is my witness we will end this travesty of a war, thus is it written, thus shall it be!"