Galactic Core, D-1504 System.
Within the immense Hold's tunnels, larger than the hive cities of Terra, Nooni issued commands over the vox-channel.
"Auspex detects at least one squad. I intend to attack them."
"Third Squad, your squad leads the charge."
"Fifth Squad, prepare to support."
"…"
"Listen up, squad sergeants. Synchronize chronos. I want your attacks launched precisely in fourteen minutes." His company-wide broadcast ceased.
Nooni was a ruthless leader. He preferred squad designations over the names his troops gave themselves.
In the past, he would have called Third Squad 'Barnett'...
More than one sergeant had said he had changed, that he was consciously mimicking the Primarch.
Barnett Squad was on the front line. The sergeant knew his captain was testing him, but he was more concerned with proving himself to his new battle-brothers.
This squad had been severely mauled before, losing over half its number in battles against the Squats.
The high casualty rate increased the pressure on the Iron Warriors. Battle-brothers resented him, an outsider, for surviving where others had not.
They doubted if he, not born in Barnett's hive, could lead the squad forward.
As a veteran from another squad promoted to sergeant, he needed to win everyone's trust.
"Advance!" the sergeant roared, giving the order on time, not a second late.
He held himself to a strict standard, with no margin for error.
"Attack!" He fired first. The Iron Warriors unleashed a dense barrage of fire at the Squats.
The Squats raised their Etacarn-pattern plasma guns in response. Liquid hydrogen fuel was rapidly heated into plasma, contained within the gun's body by powerful magnetic fields.
When a Squat pulled the trigger, the magnetic field expanded and opened. The plasma was ejected through a linear electromagnetic accelerator, resembling a solar flare in appearance and temperature.
The Etacarn-pattern's unique hydraulic coolant system sprayed a mixed coolant, which rapidly circulated within cooling channels before excess heat was vented through exhaust ports, like smoke billowing from a Kin's mouth.
The Iron Warriors formed assault formations while other squads advanced. They moved in rows of three, charging down the corridor.
The assault team rushed the passage held by the Squats. One warrior was struck by several blinding beams during the charge, staggering and falling to the ground.
The other two Iron Warriors did not pause. They swiftly surged into the passage, their thunder hammers swinging down to smash heavily against the floor.
Squats were hurled away by the shockwaves. Barnett Squad rapidly followed up, securing the passage.
"Deploy Tarantulas!" the Barnett Squad sergeant shouted.
Three Iron Warriors hurried to the passage entrance and began setting up twin-linked laser Tarantula sentry guns.
The fire support team pursued the remaining Squats. An Iron Warrior armed with a plasma gun fired over a dozen beams at the enemy.
Superheated beams struck the Squats' voidsuits. Over a dozen molten streams of fire melted the bonded alloy.
As the Squat burned along with his void suit, orange warning runes lit up on the Iron Warrior's targeting display.
The Iron Warrior knew his weapon was reaching critical temperature.
A plume of superheated steam vented from the exhaust, blasting against his Mark II power armor.
While Imperial plasma guns had emergency coolant channels and vents to periodically expel excess heat, thermal buildup still occurred within the weapon's body.
For the Auxilia, being chosen as a squad's plasma gunner was a dubious honor, because if the weapon overheated, the weapon might survive, but the user often would not.
An overheating plasma gun was almost always fatal to them, potentially even detonating in extreme environments.
Astartes pushed the limits of their own resilience by using higher quantum state hydrogen than standard Imperial patterns. The protection provided by their power armor allowed them to use plasma guns relatively safely.
But they still had to use plasma weapons cautiously, avoiding clogged vents or coils cracking from high temperatures.
The Iron Warrior switched weapons, preventing the orange warning runes from turning into red danger runes.
He switched to his bolt pistol to fire, waiting for the plasma gun to cool.
As he raised his bolt pistol to shoot, he saw the Squats opposite still returning fire with their plasma guns. Their weapons had fired earlier than his and were still firing continuously.
'The Squats' plasma guns are more stable and safer than the Imperium's.'
The plasma gunner thought of the lengthy prayers required before battle compared to other weapons.
He had to screw the hydrogen canister into place precisely, as unstable ammunition could easily spill or contaminate the plasma inlet.
Removing the canister after battle was even more dangerous. This task was usually not performed by himself. A Tech-Priest would perform lengthy binary prayers to ensure no plasma leaked from ruptured seals or improperly closed valves.
That could cost him a few fingers, or even burn off a hand.
'Father has already disassembled the Squats' plasma guns. Hopefully, he can uncover the secrets of their manufacture.'
As the plasma gunner pondered this, beams from laser cannons joined the suppressive fire, helping the Iron Warriors gain fire superiority.
"Reporting, mission accomplished," the sergeant reported on the company channel.
Simultaneously, squad members fortified the position further around the Tarantula sentry guns.
The sergeant watched their actions. He knew this was the greatest change for the Iron Warriors.
Through previous battles, they had become accustomed to the responsibility of constructing fortifications after completing their missions.
They would transform every conquered world into a future hub for colonies, a waypoint for Legion supply fleets. This was the standard war procedure for this line of the Iron Warriors.
It was both their duty and their greatest reward in brutal combat.
In one corner of the Hold, fortress cannons and sentry guns deployed by the Iron Warriors roared as they attacked the Squats.
Every shell landed precisely among the charging Squat formations, mowing them down in swathes.
The perfectly coordinated fire control system ceased once the Squats' battle lines were completely shattered.
Perturabo's electronic dreadlocks detached from the tactical network. For him, the battle was over.
He had perfectly shattered the enemy lines. Now it was time for his sons to prove themselves.
They had to perform excellently, had to eliminate the remaining enemies within twenty minutes.
Perturabo walked to a workbench. Upon it lay three Squat plasma guns and one firearm he had personally crafted.
His mind rapidly calculated, reconstructing every manufacturing parameter of the firearms, comparing them.
'The plasma gun I am personally making will soon be complete.'
'It will certainly be a work of art. Nareth and Magnus would never imagine that while commanding the battle, I also disassembled and mastered the secrets of the Squats' plasma gun manufacture.'
'I will make two plasma guns to give to them. They will surely be astonished.'
A faint smile appeared on Perturabo's face. The surrounding Iron Warriors immediately felt the oppressive atmosphere lighten.
Their peripheral glances curiously turned towards their gene-father. Sensing the surrounding gazes, Perturabo's smile vanished instantly.
He walked to the experimentation table, his hands moving swiftly.
Twenty-two minutes later, footsteps sounded.
Forrix, the Warsmith, First Captain, The Breaker, entered the chamber.
His gaze swept over every part of the room. Unlike before, besides the three Warsmiths specially favored by the gene-primarch, members of the Primarch's Advisory Council, and the banners of the Trident, three new battle banners now hung in the room.
Father had told them this was a reward for the three companies with the most outstanding combat performance outside the Trident.
But Forrix was puzzled. The three new banners were not arranged symmetrically. Two banners were on the Primarch's left, and an additional banner now hung in the center.
This hanging method, and the non-architectural style modifications made to the fortress after the Iron Warriors captured it, reminded him of the architectural style of the Primarch's palace on Nareth's Shadow's Sovereignty.
'Could Father be imitating the architectural style of Lord Nareth's palace to understand the art of asymmetry?'
Forrix knew he would not learn the truth from his father's mouth. Suppressing his curiosity, he reported.
"Father, the Squats' counter-attacking force has been routed. My company suffered forty-nine casualties."
Perturabo hung a hydrogen canister on the gun body and looked up.
"My First Captain."
"You should have routed the enemy within twenty minutes. One minute for consolidating the report. One minute is the time it took you to walk from outside into the fortress."
"Forrix, you have met the standard precisely. I expect you to perform outstandingly next time."
Forrix breathed a sigh of relief. 'Meeting Father's standard was already no small achievement.'
"As you wish, Father."
.....
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