Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 221
They departed Falconer on the Shadowhawk Glittering Dusk. The Gunship boosted away from the small destroyer, heading towards their rendezvous with a far grander vessel. It had taken them months of Warp travel to reach their destination, crossing the entirety of Segmentum Solar and delving into Segmentum Obscurus. Months of shipboard idleness, years in realspace, such was the wayward nature of Immaterial travel. Vitcos wondered if any Smoke Jaguar had ever travelled so far into the galactic north, so close to the horrific Eye of Terror where the Traitor Legions lurked. He doubted it, they may be the first to stray so near that pit of evil, but if the Ordo Astartes was formed to fight renegades and traitors, this was the place to be.
"Glimmerdust, the gloaming, a needle in moonlight," Ilquitio murmured from the pilot's seat.
"Spake Gothic, lest your tongue forgets midbattle," Vitcos chided.
"Our course is true, the nest of strangers is on auspex, matching velocity."
"Tachna says it is a Black Ship," Sechura sniffed from the co-pilot's seat.
"A rare beast indeed, preserved for the Sun-Emperor's banquet table, to sate his endless hunger for witch-touched."
Ilquitio frowned, "If so valuable are they, why would the witchseekers part with one?"
Vitcos sniffed, "Who knows the secret games of Inquisition, their power plays and hidden accords?"
"Why not use a watch-fortress as the Deathwatch?"
"Vast is the galaxy and many Chapters are mobile, hunting them demands mobility. As to why a Black Ship, know they are not frail maids scared for their virginity. Long have the Devil-sons sought to sever the Sun-Emperor's supply, and starve him. Black ships are fast, elusive but above all heavily armed. For good reason are they called the 'Hammer of the Witches'."
Glittering Dusk was dropping into orbit of a frigid world, at the very edge of the Heliopause. Not near a warp gate, but far enough from the local star to translate safely. Their destination lay ahead, a pinprick of light in the sea of stars. Vitcos' hypno-indoctrination told him Black Ships usually ran in total darkness, not that that mattered much in space where ships fought at distances manyfold times the human eye's reach, but this vessel was illuminated like a Sanguinala tree. As they closed his Transhuman sight picked out details and he leaned over the back of the seats to take her in.
A large ship, Battlecruiser displacement at least, with reinforced buttresses along her flanks and bombardment cannons along her spine. Her prow was a hammerhead akin to a Battlebarge's, adorned with the name Renegades' Woe, but her engines were cowled in the manner of a Retribution. Heavy armour swathed her gunwales and her command castle was fortress unto itself. She oozed toughness, a survivor born, conceived to wander the stars alone and best any challenge she met with unassailable fortitude. Yet what caught Vitcos' eye were the banners crowning her flanks: banners of dead Chapters. He spied banners of the Steel Preators, Fists Exemplar, Silver Glaives, The Honoured, White Serpents, Ember Lords and several more he could not name. Stacked along the spine, each a kilometre tall and illuminated by floodlights, presented not as memorials to fallen heroes but as trophies of the hunt. The Ordo Astartes displaying the great kills of their long history.
"A message: cross us not," Sechura muttered as the Shadowhawk steered towards a landing bay on the spine of the vessel.
"I would not dare to think of it," Ilquitio growled.
"Keep us slow and steady, we shall not offend with a sloppy landing," Vitcos commanded as he turned for the troopbay.
A short drop into the rear compartment and he found the rest of Blazing Shadow waiting, along with Tachna and the prisoner. The Heretek looked curious, not at all afraid, though so augmented was he that it was impossible to tell. Vitcos would love to rip out his throat but kept his Chakrams inert. As the thump of landing rang in the hold Blazing Shadow lifted their cages and made ready to exit.
"Face to the fore, a clean visage we shall be," Vitcos ordered.
"A good showing, how unlike you," Tachna grumbled.
"A bold future awaits; I greet it as the first ray of dawn."
"I too am excited," Tvos offered.
"Your contentment weighs nothing on the scales," Tachna growled.
"I was only..."
Vitcos hissed, "Be as the lurking nine-eyed spider: silent."
The ramp began to descend and Blazing Shadow stood ready. Sechura and Ilquitio slid down the ladder with a thud and took up the rear as Vitcos stepped forward. Onto the Renegades' Woe he stepped, the heaviness of the air unusually striking. He felt a great weight settling onto his shoulders, a burden to his soul, as if despair was a tangible thing. The walls oozed disquiet, the lighting seemed muted, even the air was flat and lacked vitality. Something about this ship was suffocating, as if oppression had been alloyed to her bones. It made him want to sink into his Shadow-Path, disappear and pass unseen, it took a surprising amount of willpower to fight that instinct.
He focused on the group at the bottom of the ramp. A gaggle of hooded figures, Inquisitors no doubt, he would not turn his back on them. Ten Astartes in strangely modified gear stood waiting, their plate burnished steel, shorn of icons save for Chapters of origin and a double-flame icon. Gorgets were the high scarves of Mark VIII, but helms were blunted in a manner vaguely like Mark III. Odd, but Vitcos was intrigued. Yet it was a willowy metal-man who greeted them.
Six arms raised he proclaimed, "Hail to our new friends! I am Magos Lazar and I am most excited to usher you into the future!"
The reply was warm, "Light of the dawn be upon you. I am being Vitcos, First of Blazing Shadow and envoy of Teotihuacan. By will of the Shade-Lord we troth our blood to your bold endeavour."
"Not so fast," one of the Censors growled, "Before we let you set one foot into our ship, I want to know why we should trust you?"
"Now, now, Vendrick, play nice," Lazar chortled, "Don't spoil matters with rough words."
Vitcos smirked, "A doubting eye I detect?"
This Vendrick removed his helm, revealing a face from some grim statue, "I am the leader of this combat-squad, and I shall be in command of all field operations. If you deploy with us then it shall be my word you heed, my orders you obey. I look upon you and find little to commend. I have fought many stripes of renegade, and most looked less heretical than you. My eye is never wrong."
The Smoke Jaguars were used to their feral appearance promoting mistrust, sometimes they even encouraged it. Yet Vitcos found this one abrasive from the moment he opened his mouth. Rigidity radiated off him, stern, unbending resolution. The kind of warrior to stand on a wall and shout 'not one step back'. Brutal and unimaginative. A statue in spirit, as well as face. Vitcos took an instant dislike to him.
"Mull-ic speaks and the stars shake," Vitcos snorted.
"What was that?!" Vendrick barked.
"Mull-ic, it is a term of Copan, it translates to... Stone Eye."
"You mock me," Vendrick hissed.
"Never, I praise your incomparable strength of will and unyielding judgement," Vitcos lied, leaving out the cultural connotations hinting it was also one who is blind as a statue.
Lazar butted in then, "Instinctive aggression, reactive belligerence! Typical Astartes brutes. You may as well whip out your bolt pistols and compare calibres! I will not have your petty posturing. This is a happy day, the opening of new possibilities. Why we should be rejoicing, the Omnissiah favours us!"
Vitcos relented and said, "I bring forth our gift, Tachna our Headsmen binds a prisoner of sage wit and forbidden knowledge. Magos Tvos." Tachna's heavy tread dragged Tvos forward and the two Magos sized each other up. Lazar was far taller, and his metal hide in better repair, but Tvos didn't seem cowed. He let slip a blurt of Binaric, which Lazar replied in kind. For a few moments the pair conversed, exchanging data at rates the unaugmented could never grasp. What they said remained unknown but it seemed to have an effect.
"Indeed!" Lazar proclaimed as he rapped his stave on the floor, "Possibilities unbound."
"With my knowledge your Final Phase can be a reality," Tvos agreed.
"Xenophile lore," Lazar mused, "I have dabbled with such areas, but never to the extent you did."
"You see the potential of my work; it has applications to your own."
"Misguided work," Lazar argued, "Put to wrong ends, but the procedures and techniques are fascinating."
Vendrick interrupted, "You cannot intend to let an avowed Heretic into our workings!"
But Lazar waved off, "Are we not all Hereteks here, the very nature of our project is Heresy, to some."
"Only those who are unsound in mind and body," Vendrick sneered and Vitcos was sure he included the Smoke Jaguars in that insult.
Yet Tvos asked, "Is that icon the Sanghuata?"
"What?!"
Tvos cocked his head, "Sanghuata: mark of the Consul-Opsequiari. Disciplinary officers of the early Great Crusade era, with power of life and death over their brethren. Predating the office of Chaplains. They were present in all Legions but more active in the VIth and XIIth. During several compliances the Opsequiari were witnessed using lethal force to reprimand units that lost discipline. This role I assume you have taken as the leading mandate of the Censors?"
"You are very well-learned," Lazar mused.
"I was able to converse with a source who witnessed those days," Tvos explained.
"That still doesn't explain why you are trustworthy!" Vendrick snapped.
Lazar's voice dropped to a threatening rattle, "They are to be trusted because I say so. You are beholden to my will, Censor 2.1, and I will not have my decisions questioned by a half-finished construct. Am I clear?!"
"The project remains yours to direct," Vendrick admitted through clenched teeth.
Vitcos allowed a smirk to creep onto his lip, "Mull-ic is proud, but fear not, we shall prove worthy."
"I fear nothing," Vendrick hissed.
"Of course," Vitcos grinned, "Stone Eye is merely ever-vigilant for danger."
Vitcos was enjoying teasing this stuck-up blowhard but Tachna uttered, "Our troth is made and the evening shadows grow long. We should not linger."
"Yes!" Lazar proclaimed, "Let us introduce you to our special initiatives. There are avenues of discovery you have never dreamed of, opportunities to advance abound!"
"Lead on," Tachna rumbled, "Our First shall follow and we after."
A pointed jab, Vitcos knew, reminding him to be unoffensive. Vitcos bit down on a retort, falling in as the party headed out of the landing bay. The mysteries of the Ordo Astartes awaited and the Smoke Jaguars were eager to learn more. Yet he found it aggravating that they would be fighting alongside such rigid and dull warriors as the Censors. The Testimony would be lost on them for sure, its truths too subtle for them to grasp. Vitcos found it binding himself, but was sure Vendrick would scorn even the limited flexibility it offered.
As they walked he leaned over to Vendrick and asked, "Mull-ic, have you tarried long in this house where no smiles bloom?"
"Some years," Vendrick stated flatly.
"And many have come to share your secret ways?"
"More than a handful, few survived and they were tougher than you."
"Perhaps fluid thought will prove more agreeable than stubborn hearts."
"I doubt it."
"Surely you must have adapted, your Kinsmen will marvel at the changes when you return to your Chapter?"
Then Vendrick said something that made Vitcos' blood run cold, "What makes you think you're ever going home?"