Author Notes:
Shoutout to Pixel for becoming a Private in service of the Imperium and the Belkan Reich! Now then, how do I come about balancing an Astartes, really? There's so many contradictory information about their prowess, that I still have no idea how to write combat scenes featuring an Astartes or a Chaos Space Marine... Fuck it, we ball. I have too much recaf in my system anyway.
Other than that... Last chance to participate in the Monthly Recruitment Drive! For this month, kek
Still, I have to once again reiterate that it's highly unrecommended to becoming a Patron through iOS/Apple device. Apple will charge you nearly 50% higher than normal, not to mention your harn-earned money will be sent straight into the Warp instead of to me. There's a processing time that takes more than 70 days before I can even see your donation. So please, save yourself the trouble and use a browser-based Patre-on instead.
Thank you, all of you, and have a nice day!
----------------------------------------------------------------
The transit from the surface of Cadia to the Ark Mechanicus Iron Revenant is a relatively simple affair. A shuttle, which is basically just two iron boxes strapped to multiple engines, lands on the Base of Operations' airfield. After off-loading new armaments and equipment, the shuttle promptly takes us 3rd Platoon and some Cadian 8th elements into space. The Order of Our Martyred Lady and the Salamander Chapter ride on their own Thunderhawks. Before anyone asks, Mama's Sisters of Battle receive a few Thunderhawks because of their affiliation with the JTF. This way, the Sisters don't have to hitch a ride with the Salamanders whenever they need to go somewhere quickly. That aside, the journey is honestly pretty darn lackluster.
Why? Well, you can't see anything outside the shuttle, for once. There's no viewing port in the cargo holds of the shuttle, which is where we Cadians linger on the surprisingly long flight to the Iron Revenant. Good old space movies may show that sublight travel from the ground to orbit is swift and straightforward. Yet, in actuality, it takes us two hours to fly through the void before the shuttle finally lands in one of the many hangars of the Iron Revenant. There, we are quickly shuffled into a waiting room... Although it's called a waiting room, it's more apt to describe it as a multifunction quarter. It's large enough to host half a military Company and fitted with a kitted-out Cadian Guard armory and the necessary amenities, save for an actual bunk area. As expected of the Adeptus Mechanicus, cramming everything into one common area for efficiency. That said, it's easy to understand why there's a need for such a well-furnished waiting room. One of the simulated arenas is a mere walk down a huge corridor, and a readily available waiting room can act as both a briefing area and a pit stop for gearing up. It's a fact that we of the 3rd Platoon fully intend to utilize to the fullest. However...
"We're screwed..." I promptly say while eyeing the other 23 members of 3rd Platoon sitting or standing in a loose circle around a bunch of weapon boxes. Though we haven't received much intel on what to expect of the upcoming spar, we do know that we can't bring our Chimeras. This time around, our vehicle crews will be sitting out on the sideline.
"Yup." Scorpin, who is sitting in between her two girlfriends with crossed arms, comments wisely. "We're boned."
"Scratch that." Sergeant Johnson interjects while chewing on his cheap cigar. "We're fucked."
Collectively, all of us hang our heads low, sighing deeply. Understandably, the prospect of coming up against actual Astartes in a spar is still a morale-dampening one. It's true that we are still cautiously excited about the challenge, but having seen how the Salamanders fight and carry themselves... Seriously, I can understand why many call them Angels and demigods.
Spatting out the butt of his cigar before stamping on it with a foot, Johnson cuts straight to the point.
"No point in moping around, boys and girls. Now that we're here, we can't display our sorry asses to everyone else, eh?"
Some of us nod at Johnson's words, me included. It takes the blink of an eye for our prior exasperated expressions to give way to casual professionalism. Contradictory? Maybe. 3rd Platoon is just built and shaped differently like that.
To start us of, it's Weiss that tentatively raises a hand. "Ehm... Do we actually know what we will be getting into?"
"For the most part, no." Johnson sighs while scratching his head in annoyance. "Apparently, we only know that our singular objective is to survive until an extraction can come. Simple, and straight to the point. The catch is, we have no idea when that extraction ride will come if there's even any. Similarly, we have no intel on the battlefield layout or weather effects. The only true upside is that we will have a full day or two to prep inside the arena. Other than that, the six Salamander Space Marines are only allowed to carry their standard-issue Bolt rifles and pistols, alongside whatever melee weapon they fancy."
Weiss and some of my Platoon-mates raise their eyebrows. "No flamer, or whatever the non-lethal equivalent of it?"
Johnson shrugs.
"Apparently the Tech-priests haven't come up with any way to make a flamer non-lethal. Stun beams and shock rounds, they sure can make them. However, a flamer that doesn't kill is way above what they can handle."
"... That somehow feels right and wrong at the same time." Weiss comments with a weirded-out expression.
I, however, latch on to what Johnson said earlier. "One or two days?"
My Sergeant explains with a troubled expression.
"To simulate the unforgiving nature of the battlefield, the Salamanders' arrival is at a random point in time. We will at least have a day to prep, but after that 24 hours, some of us will have to play sentry duty. I did confirm that there will be an announcement of sorts before the Salamanders' appearance."
"Huh." That's the only thing I can say regarding that bit of information.
Johnson shrugs at that before glancing at the rest of the Platoon. "Alright people, brainstorm session. What should we bring to combat six super soldiers that can bodycheck a Chimera unscathed? Do note that we have no idea what the terrains will be."
"We all have seen a Salamander Space Marine in action." I speak up first. "They embody the pinnacle of physical prowess and battle acumen. No walls that we can make are insurmountable to them."
Scorpin nods. "I get what you mean, Ein. We basically can't bring anything too heavy."
Weiss seems puzzled at this. Seeing her confusion, I helpfully explain. "The Salamanders favor mobility and close-range action. Although that doesn't mean they are not good in other areas, it does mean that if we employ a static weapon emplacement, it will promptly be outflanked'
Scorpin adds. "Anything we bring will have to be portable and concealable. That leaves Heavy Bolters and Mortars as our only options for crew-served weapons."
Humming in agreement, Johnson says. "Yeah, they are useable in pretty much all environments. Versatile too as a Heavy Bolter and Mortars can make for a good ambush or a defensive engagement. When shit hits the fan, you can throw a mortar round as a frag grenade or fire a Heavy Bolter from the hip."
I smirk. "Speaking from experience, Sergeant?" To this, Johnson flexes his biceps.
Scorpin laughs before looking at our Rookie. "In case you didn't know, Weiss. Johnson here rushed down a smuggler hideout with a Heavy Bolter and ruined everyone's day."
"Purest adrenaline shot I've ever taken back then." Johnson adds his own comment, much to Weiss' apparent awe.
"Anyway," I wave my hand to get everyone's attention. "Let's say we can set up a cross-fire with Heavy Bolters and Mortars, they alone won't be enough to knock out the Salamanders. By the way, this is me working on the assumption that we are forced to fight an engagement. But yeah, we need something more powerful while keeping us at range as well."
A member of the Special Weapon Squad chimes in. "I am pretty sure a Salamander can snipe a grenade out of the air, so I don't think a grenade launcher is the way to go."
"We can eliminate the Meltagun as an option as well." One of Scorpin's girlfriends comments. "Being too close to the Salamanders is a dead sentence."
I nod.
"Then that leaves the Plasma Gun. Temperamental as they can be, they offer a balance between range and firepower. Ideally, we can pin the Salamanders down by the Heavy Bolters, leaving them vulnerable to mortar and plasma fire."
Sergeant Johnson adds promptly. "Of course, we are all working on the most ideal of circumstances here..."
I sigh, understanding his point.
"Concentrating all of our firepower in one place means there's a higher chance of us being wiped out unceremoniously in one go. The objective is to survive till extraction. So, in theory, splitting up means we will have a better chance of weathering the Salamanders."
Weiss makes an 'Oh' sound before continuing on to say.
"If one group is eliminated, then the other groups can keep on running. That is if we are running... Depending on the terrain, it might be better to just dig in."
"Yup." I nod. "However, as a rule of thumb, I suggest dialing your lasrifle to take more charges per shot. Leave the suppression fire to the Heavy Bolters. In this circumstance, a powerful laser beam is more useful than many minor ones that may not even register on the damage calculation system that the Tech-Priests cook up."
"Non-lethal as they may be, our rifles have Twister Modules installed. The arena will emulate the damage accordingly and a lucky hit can may very well win us this spar." Johnson offers his two-cent.
The rest of 3rd Platoon nod, taking the advice seriously. I hum, looking around and pondering if there's anything more to add on my end. Ultimately, my vision lands on Weiss and lingers there. The Rookie, puzzled by my attention, tilts her head in confusion.
Thinking up something, I raise my hand to say.
"This time around, I think I will break out the Long-Las. The added power from it may actually allow me to score a clean hit. Other than that, it may also be prudent of us to carry along a sizeable quantity of explosives."
Johnson's eyes light up in realization. "You want to create traps?"
"Pretty much, or we can use the explosives for demo works if the circumstances require it. I don't know how accurate the battle arena's simulations are, but we can't go wrong with having some Melta bombs on hands."
Johnson nods seriously.
"Sounds like a plan. We will have to raid the armory of this place and see what they have. By the way, before any of us forget, see if you can find a suppressor or multiple. I can hazard a guess that Ein has a dastardly plan with her Long-Las. A suppressor will help in that endeavor of her."
I smile, giving Johnson a thumbs-up. "Thanks, Sarge."