Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

Lin furrowed his brow, studying the intelligence the scout team had brought back. The footage recorded by the servo-skull that had accompanied them showed clearly the area surrounding the derelict space hulk: a thousand years of abandonment had draped the wreck in shrubs and creeping vines, and at the very heart of the ruins, a male Rathalos lay sprawled in deep slumber.

The entrance to the space hulk was pinned beneath its body. Every attempt to slip past the Rathalos and enter directly had already been proven impossible. But fighting the Rathalos outright...

Lin looked at the silver that had plated itself across the male Rathalos's scales and let out a slow breath.

This was no ordinary male Rathalos — not even the higher-tier Azure Rathalos. This was the rare Silver Rathalos, a subspecies capable of drawing metallic elements from its environment to reinforce its own scales.

Its regenerative ability and defensive capability surpassed its kin, and its aerial prowess exceeded that of a common Rathalos. What made this specimen especially dangerous was its proximity to the space hulk. If the metal it had been absorbing came from the refined alloys inside that wreck, then this creature's defenses might far exceed anything they could imagine.

Judged by Monster Hunter ecology, a Silver Rathalos of this kind was a rare mutation — one individual among hundreds. Yet Lieutenant Admir, who had maintained regular surveillance of the Rathalos occupying the space hulk, was absolutely certain that mere months ago the creature had still been a common Rathalos with an entirely red carapace, only faintly tinged with azure blue in a few places.

From a biological standpoint, Azure and Silver Rathalos ought to be subspecies determined at birth, fundamentally distinct from common Rathalos. Yet this one had undergone exactly that transformation.

The only explanation Lin could conceive for such a drastic change in so short a time was the World Soul.

He had originally planned, after finishing the current batch of materials, to assess the situation and see whether there was time to harvest a few more low-grade materials. But now, no one could know what further changes this Rathalos might undergo if they waited any longer.

Delay breeds trouble. Lin could feel the World Soul pressing them toward a swift resolution.

Lin switched off the servo-skull feed. "It seems this World Soul has quite the forceful will. It knows we'll inevitably return to the space hulk, so it's gone ahead and powered up the male Rathalos that already has a grudge against you. Now it's going to come down to a fight to the death, no avoiding it."

"We have no right to lose," Lieutenant Admir answered, his voice low and steady.

"In a world where simply staying alive demands everything you have — who can afford to?"

Lin and Lieutenant Admir raised their heads. Standing on the monastery dais, they looked out into the interior of the chapel, where every Astartes still capable of fighting was filing in one after another. The Felynes stood at the entrance, pressing a breakfast into the hands of each warrior as he entered. Before the formal pre-battle address began, there was still time for everyone to enjoy a Felyne-cooked meal.

The speed at which the Felynes had integrated with the Astartes had surprised nearly everyone. These endearing little creatures were charming in appearance and quick in wit. They could not yet speak Low Gothic, but they needed only gestures and pointing to understand and take on every manner of daily task.

For Astartes who had lost all their mortal servants when they crashed onto this planet — and had been forced to handle every chore themselves ever since — it had not taken long to embrace these fine companions of humanity.

The Felynes' love of cooking had even begun to rub off on the Astartes in return. Space Marines, who required only bare sustenance, had long since lost any pleasure in eating; sustaining themselves and extracting the elemental compounds needed to replenish the black carapace within their bodies were very nearly the only reasons they ate at all.

But when Felyne cuisine — food that could both stimulate a Space Marine's taste buds and genuinely enhance physical condition — swept through the camp, almost no one could refuse a well-made cat-meal.

Bearing in mind that the Felyne Palico cart required its Felynes to have genuine resolve to protect their companions before it could be activated, the warm camaraderie between the Astartes and Felynes was, in its own way, a boost to their collective fighting strength. Even so, the order to muster the entire company had cast a grave tone over the day. The Astartes had little heart for their meals; they stood in the chapel with stern faces, waiting, exchanging only the occasional word with the brother beside them.

The Felynes too felt the weight of the atmosphere, moving silently among the Astartes, completing only whatever was strictly necessary before stepping aside to give the warriors their space.

Before long, all ninety-eight combat-ready members of the company had assembled. Lieutenant Admir stepped forward on the monastery dais and swept his gaze across his gathered brothers.

"Brothers," he began slowly. "I have never made a formal announcement of our situation, but I have never hidden it either. I believe most of you know, more or less, that over half a month ago, Forge Priest Lin of the Adeptus Mechanicus crash-landed on this planet that has confined us for over a thousand years, and entered into an alliance with us. In the time since, we learned the current state of the galaxy, and what had been a steadily worsening predicament — as our supplies dwindled away — was fundamentally turned around."

"We have power again. Armour again. Weapons again. Even the great monsters that once posed a mortal threat to us have been struck down beneath our blades. Long ago, the Legion that went astray refused to take us in; the monsters of this planet regarded us as prey. Yet today, that Legion — traitors to the Emperor — has long since vanished from history, and the monsters of this world have failed to break us. Through a thousand years, only we remain, still standing."

"With our own deeds, we have proven the oath we once swore — that we would never kneel before xenos or beast. Brothers, what glory is this!"

The atmosphere in the chapel grew a degree warmer. Most of the warriors seemed to recall the gruelling years of struggle on this planet, and the hardships of the past were transmuted into pride — they lifted their chins, heads held high.

"But taking root on this planet was only a beginning, brothers! I — and all of us — have never forgotten what we are! We are great warriors who bear the light of humanity. We are noble fighters who cut down every enemy of mankind. We are Astartes — we are Space Marines!"

"We were forged and transformed to carve humanity's future across the stars, not to lie silent on a single world! Brothers, search the depths of your hearts — ask whether our calling is summoning us back to the sea of stars!"

Lieutenant Admir thrust both hands high, then drove them sharply down. He looked out at the warriors below, whose fervour was building with every word, and knew it was time to bring forward the Hunter Dreadnought — who had never once appeared before the other brothers.

He gave Lin a nod. Lin, who had prepared for this moment, reached out and pulled away the draping cloth that had concealed the Dreadnought on the monastery dais, and began the ritual to wake it.

The Hunter Dreadnought slept whenever he was not needed, to slow the suffering. But now, this place clearly required the Hunter Dreadnought — who had witnessed the full history of the Legion and had once led them — to stand as witness.

As the old Company Commander, whom all the warriors remembered only as sleeping, was roused at last, the assembled fighters below stirred with excitement. Every man held his breath, eyes fixed on the Dreadnought on the dais — and the first thing the awakened Hunter did was release a long, quiet sigh.

"A thousand years. I never imagined I would face you all again like this. But if we are here, it means what came before has not yet been settled — the mission is unfinished."

The Hunter Dreadnought rose to its feet. Lin, seizing the moment, projected a holographic map of the space hulk.

"The space hulk. I still remember what it was to lead you in battle aboard that ship — to me, it was the blink of an eye, so the shame of having led the entire company into catastrophe is still fresh in my memory."

"I believe you all know the truth of it now. What we fought on that ship were daemons — Warp entities that cannot be killed. The beings who set those creatures upon us caused us to fall to this planet, and caused our Legion to descend into an irreversible damnation."

"To fight those beings within the Warp was always a battle without victory. But our brothers who died on that space hulk still used their sacrifice, in an unwinnable fight, to secure for the rest of us a future that still held possibility."

The Hunter Dreadnought's voice grew steadily louder, its amplified resonance ringing through the entire chapel.

"Even though our Legion has fallen and vanished. Even though the glory of the Great Crusade is gone. Brothers — we must still fight on! We cannot cast off our dark past, nor can we claim a bright future — but precisely because of that, we must fight all the harder. We must find out what that darkness was that was once visited upon us. We must make the Warp-spawned xenos pay for every brother we sacrificed. We must let the traitors of humanity — our own gene-father among them — feel the fury of those who have sworn to cut down every enemy of mankind. But as long as a single breath remains in us, our mission will never be finished!"

The Hunter Dreadnought jabbed a great arm toward the holographic map of the space hulk, and roared:

"There — on that space hulk — at the place where our past and our future converge! We go there now, to seize back the future that is ours from the schemes of the Warp and the claws of the beast! Brothers of the White Wind Company — warriors of the White Wind Company!"

Every emotion in the chapel rang out in resonance at that moment. Even these battle-hardened Astartes could barely contain themselves. They hammered their gauntleted fists against their breastplates and raised their battle-cry alongside the Hunter Dreadnought.

"Today's sacrifice — for tomorrow's triumph!"

"The preparation of Power Armour and equipment, the training in Gauss rifle and bolt-thrower fire — all of it, every last bit, has led to this moment!"

Lieutenant Admir donned his helmet — fitted with the crest of Tigrex wing-spines. Deputy Aibo stood at his side, bearing the company banner embroidered with the White Wind. The glory that belonged to the Hunter shone upon them both.

"Move out — White Wind of the new world!"

Author's Note: Once the Silver Rathalos is dealt with, the tutorial dungeon will be complete!

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