Author Notes:
This very much is a setup for potentially cool stuff. Hopefully, you all will enjoy what's to come for GSS. I know for a fact that I invest a lot of my non-existent braincells for the future chapters.
Now, without further ado, enjoy!
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"Approximately one system hour ago," Started Colonel Mustahim. "This happened..."
Making a nod to a nearby adjutant, the Cadian Colonel has the man bring up a series of pict-records of units moving through the bowels of Installation 08. By the look of it, these units were traversing down the massive tunnels that led to the deeper levels of this coastal fortress. Contacts with hostiles were sporadic, and it wasn't a stretch to say the JTF's advancing spearheads routed the cultists. Cautious as they were, our vanguards didn't really expect much resistance when prior scouting turned up moot, and the JTF has since set up a robust logistical and command system. Although wary about potential sorcerous ambush, it's expected by many that it won't be long till the JTF establishes an entrenched foothold in the lowest levels of Installation 08.
That thought died out the moment myriad colors of light barriers appeared out of nowhere, separating these advanced units from the rest of the main force. From the points of view of whoever was equipped with these pict-recorders, attempts were made to breach these magical barriers that were now blocking these traffic tunnels via a variety of explosive and dispelling means. All of which amounts to nothing, as the rumbling of combat and fighting could be heard coming from the other sides of the barriers.
"The vanguards primarily consisted of members of the 8th and the Whiteshields, supported by the Order of Our Martyred Lady and the Salamander Astartes. Unfortunately, the Astartes were forced to stay outside these light barriers. The JTF would have rested easier if we had a few Salamanders on the other side of the screen... Clearly, whoever bastard that separated the vanguards from the bulk of our force had picked their targets. They feared the might of the Astartes, I'm sure." Colonel Mustahim says evenly as the recording continues to play, accompanied by the muffled audio of live combat.
"But the JTF is anything but a force consisting only of the Salamander Chapter of Astartes." The Cadian Colonel turns to look at the faces in front of him.
Our faces. Transhuman and human. Kasrkin and Guards. Regulars and Whiteshields... Those with blood on their hands and determination written on their faces are all gathered around in the tarp-covered square that hosts this emergency briefing.
With spirit in his tone and every gesture, the Colonel of the Cadian 8th adds.
"Each and every single one of those standing here is an integral part of this Joint Task Force. None of you is less deadly than the others. So, if those treacherous scums..." Colonel Mustahim points a thumb at the recordings being shown. "Think they would achieve an easy win by preying on the supposedly weaker of us? Then they would be dead wrong."
Colonel Mustahim then personally moves to a cogitator staffed by his adjutant. Typing something, the bald-headed Colonel brings up the latest battlefield intelligence, displaying our troops' movement and points of interest. He then continues the briefing.
"Vox connection is tampered with, despite our best countermeasures, so we haven't been able to establish wireless contact with our separated vanguard elements, nor with the additional scouts that we sent to search different venues of advance. However, the good old method of assigning runners to deliver messages still works, as experimented with by the Lucifer Blacks, who are assigned this scouting task. Thanks to the Blacks, we have identified that, for the most part, our out-of-touch vanguards are still fighting strong, one hour in this scuffle. Unfortunately, additional intelligence is hard to come by as the Blacks noted how their Vox-casters were unable to establish a link with these stranded units. It's suspected that any and all forms of wireless communication will be tampered with beyond those barriers. So more traditional methods of communication must be used."
After the long speech, Colonel Mustahim barely takes a breather before launching into yet another one.
"As of now, the JTF will sortie to rendezvous with our stranded comrades. Our main objective is to stabilize their frontline while waiting for the Lucifer Blacks to identify the source that generates these anomalies. If possible, the Blacks will eliminate the source by themselves, allowing us a swift chance at a counter-attack that will send the traitors straight back to their stronghold. If not, the Astartes accompanying the reinforcing units will take charge and handle the threat. The timeline might not be as swift, but the result won't change."
Colonel Mustahim then adds after readjusting his cap.
"The exact deployment plan will be sent to the commanding officers of your elements. Unfortunately, not everyone in your group will be graced with the presence of the Astartes or a Sister of Battle, as most of the alternate routes the Blacks identified are unable to accommodate the bulk of their armor. As such, to many of you, it will be a game of Kasrkin, plus Regulars and Whiteshields, versus the traitors of man. I presume this won't be an issue for you all?"
For the record, I don't think I see anyone in the square flinch or show any sign of hesitation, not even the Whiteshields. Many among the ranks of veterans and officers even display excited and daring expressions, in fact. We are all used to fighting without the big soldiers in armor, before the JTF was a thing. To some of us, this deployment criterion is probably one needed trip of nostalgia, knowing that there won't be any of the big guy around to call on for a bailout. Certainly, higher risks are involved, but the potential payoff will no doubt be immense.
Imagine the accolades and promotions this situation could potentially generate, on top of whatever these soldiers have accrued in their long service. Some may not be a fan of the ranks on their epaulettes, but they won't say no to a higher salary and remuneration for their families.
It's a pragmatic sentiment, perhaps borderline treasonous as you're quite literally expected to die in the name of the Emperor and ask nothing in return, sometimes. But more often than not, soldiers, like the people around me, are fueled by pragmatism and necessity, on top of the usual foolhardiness and patriotism. You quite literally can't expect a functional army if you don't give them the carrots, and zealots can only go so far before breaking their own backs.
[Emperor of Man: Truer words have never been spoken.]
See, even the Emperor agreed with me.
I'm a bloody genius.
[Jingwei: Technically true, but perhaps you can put a stop to your sudden bout of monologuing? Your Colonel already dismissed everyone, and you're expected to convene at the armory.]
Oops, thanks for the tip, Sister Hua. Guess all that brainstorming earlier still ended up getting to my head, at some point.
[Nuwa: You don't say? Like, you're not even chatting in the chatroom, but instead are doing this weird mental commentary. It's weird to hear your mental voice in the stream, all of a sudden, when we're familiar with seeing your words in the chatroom, acting as a subtitle of sorts... Now that I think about it, this is one weird rabbit hole I just jumped down.]
[Fuxi: Never change, Nuwa. Never change...]
[Xuanyuan: You pay attention to the weirdest thing possible, Sister Nuwa...]
[Ein: Again, having a lighthearted conversation like this is hella weird and amusing, especially when I will soon go crump some heads soon.]
[Emperor of Man: Goes to say you have one active headspace, Ein.]
[Ein: You did not just do that with a straight face, Emperor...]
[Jingwei: Yes. Yes, she did.]
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"This is your stop, Froggers." Comes the voice of Blake, Roughnecks' Section Leader. "The VTOLs won't be able to provide CAS unless the barriers that blocked the transit tunnels come down."
Sergeant Johnson, having hopped off the ramp and onto solid ground, waves back. "You girls sure you're comfortable with flying indoors, come what may?"
"Won't be our first rodeo, Sergeant!" The spirited tone of Roughtneck 1-2 replies over the Vox link. "Trust in us and call on us when you have reestablished Vox on the other side, right?"
"Keep sticking around with us like this, Roughnecks, then Frogger 3 will be out of business." Our Sergeant barks a laugh before saluting the lifting Valkyries. "Alright, fly safe and aim true. Be seeing you lasses later!"
"Happy hunting, Froggers." Blake makes the parting words as the VTOL kicks up the dust behind us.
After making sure our gears are in order, Sergeant Johnson leads us into a series of interconnecting shafts. It's damp, smelly, and it's dark in many sections, and we come in without much fanfare or as much of a greeting with the heavily armed sentry post on the safe side of the barrier. Time is of the essence, apparently.
Unable to contain herself, Scorpin asks as we maneuver the winding avenues that can barely fit someone with her or Johnson's stature.
"Are we sure the map is correct, and that there won't suddenly be a bolter pointed at us when we round a corner? This place reminds me of that one particular stretch earlier, where Ein and Weiss wiped out that autocannon crew."
"Pretty sure the Blacks updated the map some ten minutes ago." Johnson shrugs before adding as he carefully scans the branching paths ahead with his mounted flashlight. "But a lot of things can happen in a tenner. So, as any good boss would say, keep your eyes and ears open, people. When in doubt, shoot first, ask questions later. I highly doubt any Black will roam these routes anyway, now that we're here."
"Copy that."
"Understood."
Come the replies with mirrored intent from many of us as we trudge on to our destination.
Really, 3rd Platoon wasn't supposed to be on the deployment roster, at least not yet, when we are actually still undermanned. But given the sudden development and that 3rd Platoon is famed for clinching each and every single one of the rescue strikes we undertake, we are honorably tasked with providing long-range intervention to help bail out one of the stranded vanguard units. As such, our current loadout reflects our role: Underbarrel Grenade Launchers, dedicated Grenade Launchers, and a Heavy Stubbers. Coincidentally, I opt out of carrying Black Steel this time, instead bringing a Long-las due to my imminent task of providing overwatch to the people on the other side of the barrier.
All in all, we're expected to seize an underground high-rise building that the Lucifer Blacks silently marked and secured for us before moving on with their own tasking. Once up there, it will just be like that time when we sparred with the Kharak Squad of the Salamander Chapter. Look around, and kill anything that's hostile. Only this time, our actions have a real positive benefit in saving the lives of our comrades.
Our standing order is to provide overwatch to the best of our ability, though we're allowed to retreat if we incur heavy losses or have no ordinance left to field. It's one heck of a humane order, given to us by Colonel Mustahim on behalf of the other JTF top brass who are left unattended in the meeting, occupied by their own leadership responsibilities. And honestly, it's a rather sensible one. If overwatches like us are screwed to the point of Mass-Cas or black on ammo, then the situation is obviously untenable, and tactical retreat is a viable option to conserve veterans and field intelligence. By that point, foolishly banging out buttstock against a metaphorical is nothing more than a wasteful expenditure of lives that will be needed elsewhere.
Though that doesn't mean that such foolishness isn't without return, in some rare circumstances.
But yeah, we'll see how things develop. Good old instinct is telling me that we will expect a fight, and it may yet become another drawn-out one. Hooray to underground urban warfare~!
It's always annoying when you're the one busting strongholds, not defending them.