Legends of the Smoke Jaguars chapter 206
Ajax carefully tinkered with the drive mechanism of Storms Wrath, which was laid upon his knee. The task was not fast and the damage was tricky to fix but the noble weapon had given leal service and deserved his most devoted ministrations. Ajax was no Techmarine but every Astartes of the Imperium was indoctrinated in lay-rituals of maintenance and would give their utmost effort to tend to their gear. A suit of armour lovingly sanctified may reward the bearer by saving his life, whereas an ill-treated plate may strike down the offender with blocked oxygen lines. Such was the fickle nature of the Machine Spirit.
Ajax's focus was laser sharp as he cleared the motor of intrusive gore with a tiny brush, then tightened the cover with a screw thin as a needle. Turn by turn the weapon was made whole, then he laid it across his knees and anointed the device with sacred unguents. The blessing was equally important and could not be rushed and as he worked he recited words drilled into him by the Techmarines, "The soul of the Omnissiah embraces thee. The power of the Omnissiah invests thee. The hate of the Omnissiah drives thee. The Omnissiah grants thee life so thou may bringest death. Live noble weapon, I implore thee!"
He gripped the trigger and Storms Wrath roared as the chainteeth sprung into motion, blurring as they spun around its length. Satisfied Ajax lifted his head and took in the Storm Herald's base. Barely an hour after the command meeting had concluded the Astartes were ready for war. Brothers who had been on their deathbed after the hasty flight stood in smart ranks, assembling by squad with heads lifted high. The genius of the Emperor's genic craft meant few wounds could not be recovered, almost any injury made good in hours. How else could a Chapter of a mere thousand survive the blistering cruelty of combat for more than a day?
Ajax counted heads and saw two hundred Space Marines assembled, two-thirds of their initial strength. Despite weeks of furious combat they had lost only a hundred Brothers, those outright killed or crippled beyond any hope of recovery. To die in glory and be recorded in the Scrolls of Honour was the expectation of every Storm Herald, some select few even earned the highest accolade of their names being carved into the Rock of Heroes, but a less treasured fate awaited the crippled. Those too injured to fight again would be shipped home, fitted with crude augmetics and assigned as training instructors for the youngest Aspirants. No Astartes wished for such a doom, better to die on the field in battle than live so bleak a half-life. Of course some handful of champions would instead be interred in Dreadnought chassis, but Ajax doubted that was any better. He'd lived too long to desire such a fate.
His morbid thoughts were interrupted as Lujan despatched his squads to their postings along the river bank. The squads marched off with crisp precision, save those reserved to form a flying company in case of breakthroughs. To his annoyance he saw Charael headed his way, the Chaplain's helm absent and his expression stern. Ajax stood from the crate he was sitting upon with a weary sigh. He knew what was coming.
"Brother-Sergeant, you ignore a summons?!" Charael spat.
"I already know the plan," Ajax dismissed.
"That is not the point!" Charael rebuked, "Discipline must be maintained!"
"And a weapon's spirit must be consoled, practical need trumps ritual."
"Why must you test me so?" Charael hissed.
"Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?"
The pair of them broke off, knowing the next sentence and the next and the next. They'd had arguments like this more times than they could count over the last few centuries, till the replies were ingrained into their neurons. Both of them could predict every point made and insult offered, as a Regicide master can predict the movement of pieces upon a board. They would find no resolution this day, if they could then they would have decades ago.
"Are we ever to see an end to this bickering?" Charael sighed wearily.
"Only when one of us is dead," Ajax scoffed.
"You first," Charael retorted.
"I cannot die till you stop dripping poison into our Brother's ears, preaching of deities and divine visions!"
"Or you could simply accept the evidence of your eyes and start trusting my visions. Have I ever been wrong, even once?!"
"Your visions didn't help stop Orkamemnon!"
"Through the revelations of Him on Terra we saved the docks, and what have you done?!"
"I pulled a hundred Brother's arses out of the fire," Ajax snapped.
Charael bit down on his next words, the attempt to find common ground failing, as it always did. The High Chaplain was as weary as he was, but would never relent either. His faith was as iron as Ajax's scorn, a chasm they would never bridge. It would always divide them, one spouting poisonous dogma, the other fighting tooth and nail to deny it. Charael was a zealot, Ajax was belligerent to the core, their dispute would never be settled.
The Visionary drew himself up and said, "Lujan's strategy is clear, I expect you to conform to his tactical precepts."
"Trust me, I'll be where the fighting is thickest."
"As always," Charael noted, "Unleashing the tempest."
"I am His wrath," Ajax asserted pointedly.
Charael shook his head in exasperation and turned to depart. Ajax watched him go to meet up with Lujan, the zealot and the dreamer, so alike in many ways. What would they make the Chapter into without Ajax, without someone to keep their eyes on the ground, it was hard to imagine and he didn't want to. It was then that Ajax heard Iagion step up to his elbow, doubtless having heard every word.
"You have a comment Brother?" Ajax uttered.
"Nice work on that chain-motor," Iagion replied deadpan.
"A more useful comment," Ajax groaned.
"None comes to mind."
"Then why do you plague me so?"
"I thought you should know that Smoke Jaguar Vitcos is back, and he's asking to speak to you."
Ajax could think of nothing he'd enjoy less but they'd fought shoulder to shoulder and such bonds were not lightly cast aside. With an exasperated sigh he turned and headed for the perimeter, where he spied Vitcos waiting for him. The Smoke Jaguar's plate was feral as always, his hands red and his exposed face banded in black. Yet there was an eager cast to his eye, as if bursting with news.
"Light of the dawn be upon you," Vitcos offered.
"Knock off the flattery and get to the point or I'll rip your tongue out and polish my boots with it," Ajax growled as he drew to a halt at the edge of the camp.
"As ever you remain the spirit of murder," Vitcos grinned.
"And you remain incapable of giving a straight answer!"
Vitcos's eye shaded as he leaned in to whisper, "I have learned that Orkamemnon yet seeks the crown, his will is set upon it and will not be stymied."
"That's your news?!" Ajax scoffed, "A scout-novice could tell you that."
But Vitcos rejoined, "You fail to grasp the depth of his obsession. Orkamemnon will not be stayed in his quest, no power of mortal or Astartes can thwart his will. No matter what walls you throw up before him, he will have his prize. I have learned that Orkamemnon cannot be stopped, but in knowing what he hungers for we hold advantage."
Ajax remained unconvinced, "Lujan lines the river bank with guns. He has two Companies worth of Storm Heralds, Knights, Earthshakers and thousands of Guardsmen. The Orks have no boats or rafts, they cannot breach our line."
"That will not stop Orkamemnon," Vitcos argued.
"How do you know that?!"
"Would it stop you?"
"I..." Ajax blinked, "No, it would not."
Vitcos nodded, "Orkamemnon will breach our lines, of this we can be sure. When he does so the crown will be his target and all who stand in his path will die. We have a brief span to lay our traps, to draw him to a place and time of our choosing and claim the hunt-kill."
"Why should I help you?"
"Because the Smoke Jaguars would owe you a blood-debt till the end of days."
"That holds less than zero interest to me. Tell me how do you plan to kill the Warboss? You plan to... what... lure him to a certain spot and hit him with a sword?"
"I entrust we together shall find a way," Vitcos proposed.
"You place a large amount of trust in one not of your chapter," Ajax accused.
Vitcos sighed, "My kinsmen are blinded by prophecy and destiny. They do not see the power of choice. I choose to be who I am, I choose to live and die by my own agency, not the visions of seers. In all my meetings you alone share this spirit, to defy fate and spit in the eye of destiny. If the future decrees we must die at the hand of Orkamemnon, then I say to hell with destiny!"
Ajax was amazed by his words, and the prospect of changing his future. Vitcos offered more than he knew. Ajax was tired of the same old arguments, the same cycle of war and stagnation. He knew Lujan would forbid him to countenance such a strategy, holding to his own ideas. Ajax knew where that road led, even in victory they'd go back to the same old routine, the same debates and jibes, over and over and over. Vitcos offered something different, a chance to break the cycle and prove Charael wrong once and for all. That would be a victory unlike any Ajax had ever known.
The Veteran-sergeant mused, "Lujan would never agree to this."
"That wasn't a no," Vitcos noted.
"I wasn't proposing to tell him," Ajax snorted, "He can't order me not to do something he doesn't know about."
"Then we are trothed?"
"For the moment, but don't think this means I like you!"
"Sun-Emperor forfend," Vitcos grinned.
Ajax was surprised to find his course was set, in defiance of his Chapter's traditions and the Codex Astartes. Many times had he deviated from expectations, but never strayed beyond the bounds of doctrine. These Smoke Jaguars offered him something new, a chance to challenge the dogma overtaking his Brothers and overturn the invidious worship Charael was spreading. In a universe of madness, it was the only sane choice.