Author Notes:
A surprise GSS release to be sure, but hopefully a welcome one.
First, shoutout to Corporal RedDevil67 (a missed opportunity for 69). Thank you for your contribution to the Imperium of Man! And I hope that you will enjoy your stay on Terra!
Currently, the moving in and renovation work for our new home is nearly done. The only big endeavor left is to plug and seal the ventilation gap in the ceiling so that our old reliable aircon can work smoothly. I should be able to get back to an actual schedule soon.
Also, the Sypnosis and Prologue for my Original Story are out on PatreZ_on Early Access! You can check it out in advance by going over there, and maybe even offer me some suggestions and even tips; the Monthly Discount is still running from now to the 23rd of March.
Also Also, I have very creatively given my Orginal Story the short name of Occupied Body - Other Me, OBOM for short. And yes, you all should know that RNGesus has deemed it fit that I somehow need to incorporate not just the Naval Warfare aspect but also Mecha Combat element into one Yuri fic... Boy, that's gonna be one heck of a challenge...
https://www.patr_eon.com/Heartbreak117
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CLANKCLANKCLANKCLANK
After some ups and downs and a bit of teamwork in overcoming obstacles, we have reached the end of the maintenance shaft. The only things stopping us from entering the cogitator chamber are a loosely installed grating fence and the presence of a few heretics beyond it. While the commotion caused by the surrounding rusted machinery and ancient piping can mask an attempt at breaching the practically non-existent obstruction, I raise a closed fist, having my little team tuck themselves in the dim corners of the shaft, staying beyond detection.
I need a few seconds to make sure the coast is clear and a bit longer to communicate with Tu'rok and Johnson.
First, from our current vantage point and due to the lighting environment, we can clearly see four cultists nervously gathering together on the platform overlooking the lower level. All of their weapon and attention are directed at the sealed door down below, where Tu'rok and Johnson will be making an entry. I then confirm with my senses that there seems to be only one raised platform, which is convenient for us, but it does raise the question of why the cultists deploy a substantial amount of firepower on the lower ground instead of the high ground that flanks the main entrance to the chamber.
Feeling suspicious, I direct my senses to the rest of the chamber, noticing how it's designed with a tall, concave ceiling that leads to the presence of a disused void above the cogitator arrays. Fitting for the traitors, the concave ceiling is painted in heretical iconography. And, for the life of me, I can't figure out how or why they could paint something ten meters up in the air without having to step on the very delicate cogitators below.
I can only chalk it up to the Warp acting in mysterious ways, as it corrupted Installation 08. Nevertheless, a part of me speaks to my mind that it would be wise to pay attention to what's above, and that I shall do.
Moving on, I triple-check that the cultists haven't wisened up and install a booby trap by the grated fence, which they don't, which is something I find amusing, as I can be considered somewhat of an expert in that myself. Jokes aside, I swiftly note the numbers and placements of the remaining enemies, committing them to my memory, before activating the comms bead.
"What's your ETA, people?"
"We're already here." Johnson answers. "Anything you wanna add before we kick the ball rolling?"
"From what I can see, minimal hostile on the high ground, which means you'll have to be careful when knocking." I reply. "How do you wanna play this, Sarge?"
After a few seconds, Johnson says. "Our side will set up a Big Bada Boom with your Melta bomb. Use the ruckus to seize the high ground."
"Roger that, Sarge." I then turn to Weiss and the rest. "Alright, you heard the man. Get ready for some heat."
I then give Scorpin a nod. "Scorpin, Weiss, and I will clear out the four guys beyond the fence. Afterward, it's your show. You ready?"
Scorpin turns to look at a guy holding up a Flamer menacingly, before smirking. "Oh, we're born ready."
"Outstanding." I give her a thumbs up before I feel Weiss tapping my shoulder.
"Wait, what's the signal?" Her confusion is evidenced by the way she sounds.
I smile beneath my rebreather. "Knowing Johnson..."
KRA-BOOM
The whole chamber recoils as the Dynamite I gave Johnson exploded, no doubt blowing a gaping hole in the door below in the process. Due to the shock, even Weiss finds herself stumbling in her place, not to mention the rest.
"That's the signal." I finish the sentence.
While it's a coin toss whether Weiss can see my expression or not, I still give her a wink.
"So, one side each?" I repeat the sentence I once said moments ago, before running straight through the grated fence with my Black Steel holding out front.
No surprise, Black Steel easily slams what separates them from us. Heh, I don't even feel any resistance when doing that. Must have been some real shoddy construction work.
Now in full view of everything, I note with mild amusement that the four cultists on the same platform as us don't even react to the fence coming flying outward. In slow motion, I can see them all still focusing down on the hole Johnson and Tu'rok blasted open, their fingers holding down the triggers of their old Autoguns as the weapons spat resounding muzzle flashes. In fact, all of the cultists inside the chamber are unceremoniously discharging their entire inventory of ranged weapons down a smoky, yet very silent hole in the wall, or door, for this instance.
SNAPSNAPSNAPSNAP
Once more, four streaks of las shots evaporate the heads of the cultists in front. Two of those kills belong to me, now guess who takes points for the rest?
I let out a smirk that no one sees before leading the others by running to the metal railings of the platform. While doing so, I reach into my vest and pull out a Frag Grenade while simultaneously pulling out the pin with a swift, yet minor, sleight of hand.
"Frag out!" I announce before tossing the primed explosive in a parabolic arc that will ultimately end in the middle of the cultists' entrenched position.
"Haha! From Cadia we love!" And apparently, Scorpin and her girlfriends share the same intention with me, each throwing a Frag below the platform before we all come to a skidding halt by the railings.
"G-Granada!" Someone shouts historically... Wait, is that Spanish?
BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM
The four subsequent explosions, however, stop me from questioning something not conducive to the present situation.
"Alright~!" I then peek out from above the barrier with my Laspistol raised, and so does everyone else. "Let's light them up!"
I then pull the trigger repeatedly. So does Weiss, so does Scorpin, and so does the guy with a big freaking Flamer. Granted, the last two I mentioned are more about holding and hosing down the cultists, unlike me and Weiss, who have to be more precise with our shots. Donovan, however, the guy with the Melta Gun on Scorpin's Squad, has to use his sidearm, as his primary weapon is neither an area of effect weapon nor a suppressive one.
From the first few seconds we pull the triggers, not counting those we killed by the grenades, I reckon we eliminated more than a dozen cultists, translating to more than half of the traitors' effective combatants. As we're keeping the survivors pinned down helplessly behind their barricades, the others come barging in.
"Leave some for us, won't you?" Tu'rok speaks loudly and clearly, audible to both Vox and the normal environment.
The Salamanders come into view confidently, with Johnson's unit trailing behind with covering fire.
"Check your fire!" I warn Scorpin and her Special Weapon Squad, resulting in an immediate reduction in firepower from our flank.
The Astartes, waiting for that very moment, dash the remaining meters in less than a second before bodychecking the entire barricade line, slamming cultists and their weapons into peace while tearing apart the rest with either their Power Sword or Combat Knife. They clean up the survivors in exactly five seconds.
"Holy..." Weiss comments breathlessly after seeing the Salamanders becoming the last ones standing among the small field of corpses and burning detritus.
Yeah, even though we are all used to their exploits by now, it's still something to witness in person and from a vantage point. I laugh when Tu'rok turns around to give us an Emperor-blessed thumbs-up, something he comes to learn from his time interacting with us mortals.
"You may come down now, my friends!" Tu'rok says with, no doubt, a small smile. "And thanks for the outstanding support, as always."
"Don't sweat it, big guy." I say before giving Weiss and Scorpin a nod. "Scorpin, maintain the high ground. Weiss, let's get down there and help the guys."
"Gotcha," Scorpin nods before jutting a thumb in the direction of the guy with the Flamer. "You can trust Raymond here to watch our rear as well."
Holding up his Flamer at a high-ready position, Raymond unleashes a brief yet eye-catching blast of fire at an angle that is away from us. I give him a thumbs up, knowing how lethal the Flamer is when used in confined spaces like that maintenance shaft from earlier.
With Scorpin's Squad settled, however, Weiss and I take turns hopping off the platform, landing safely on our feet. Weiss spares me a curious glance as I readjust my hold on Black Steel after the maneuver.
"Do you ever get tired of wielding that thing? You've been hauling that thing around for the better part of today."
"Eh, you'll get used to it, eventually." I reply with an easy smile before we both walk to Johnson and Tu'rok.
Seeing us approaching, Johnson raises a hand to give me a resounding high-five. "You sure hit them hard, boys and girls. Really drive the fear of the 8th into their souls."
"Hah." Tu'rok laughs. "More than fear, I think they would be mortified when they learned that the unit that wiped most of them has Froggers as their callsigns."
I chuckle. "No one in their right mind would want to have the words 'killed by Froggers' on their tombstone."
From the corner of my eyes, I can see Weiss' shoulder shaking lightly as she holds down a giggle.
I smile at that before focusing my sight on other members in our small task force. "Do we have enough of a boom left?"
"Well..." Johnson and Tu'rok turn around to view their respective subordinates installing explosives wherever they will do the most damage to the cogitator arrays, which is a lot of places to go about.
"You still got another Melta bomb hiding away anywhere on you, girlie?" Johnson looks at me with an inquisitive raise of an eyebrow.
The Sergeant soon breaks out into a smile when I slap yet another Dynamite onto his outstretched hand.
"That's my girl!" Johnson grins before giving the Dynamite a toss into the air. "Alright, I'mma go an-"
My instinct triggers an alarm, and before I know it, my body reacts by tackling Johnson off his feet. To others, like Weiss, my action would have been too sudden, too abrupt for them to react, even if their eyes can barely track my movement. Yet, to an Astartes, much less veterans like Tu'rok, they must be seeing my movement in slow motion. And from the corner of my eye, I see Tu'rok tightening his grip on his Plasma Pistol and Power Sword in alarm.
"Aim high!" My brief warning comes out in between my motions.
Even before Johnson, his expression a mix of surprise and alertness, can land on the ground, Tu'rok and his fellow Sternguard Veterans have already pointed their ranged weapon upward, just in time to see a shifting blue film of energy appearing near the concave ceiling, and something, multiple things, start falling through it at speed.
"Sorcery!" Tu'rok's shout coincides with Johnson and me hitting the deck.
Around us, the sound of Plasma Pistol and Bolt Rifles firing momentarily drowns out the exclamations of my fellow 3rd Platoon members. Weiss and the rest react fast, however, as it takes them only a second at most to start aiming at whatever is above and fire right after Tu'rok's opening shot.
While I jump back onto my feet, Johnson rolls onto his back to level his Lasrifle upward. Before he can pull the trigger, however, a smoking, burning corpse, a big one at that, lands with a sickening smack on where Johnson could have been had I not tackled him away earlier.
"Ogryns!?" It's unclear who shouts that, but an additional two more Ogryn corpses, pulverized by Bolt Rounds, crash onto the floor just as heavy as the first one, which got vaporized by blue plasma.
But there are more.
While the Salamanders managed to eliminate three mid-drop, nine more Ogryns landed in between our scattered formation. Scanning them, a part of me blanches when I see the gears they're toting. Twin-linked Heavy Stubbers, Ripper Guns, and Emperor forbade one of the Ogryn from holding up an actual Heavy Bolter. They are all very, very blue, decked out in all sorts of haphazardly put-together armor plates that cover up their entire bodies. And I don't very much like the way they're looking at us.
Oh, and have I mentioned that two of them seem to be wielding Warhammers? As in actual Warhammers that are somehow crackling with energy? What the fuck is this shit? Pay to win Ogryn Squad?
Still, rather than being a live commentator, I think it's time to make myself more useful by shouting.
"Take cover!"
For the next few moments, everything is just pure, unadulterated chaos. Yep, it just has to be this one particular objective, huh?