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Life is tough as Spacemarine2

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posted on Oct, 19 2018 @ 08:03 PM
Life is tough as Spacemarine1 at


The forty first space marine squadron has won triumph over the pigman. A good omen it is to kick the first goal against the alien. The squads medic Sunteir gives Draxon a sitrep on Butosky's condition.

"The pigmans electrowhip took hid arm all is left is the socket. He has lost a allot of blood. I have had him loaded into a time coma capsule where he will remain a fraction away from death."

"What are his chances?" asks Draxon.

"The same chances as anyone who undergoes this medivac routine slim to none. Once back at base he will be brought out of the coma just before the moment of death for rejuvination and augmentation."

No further explantion is needed Draxon knows what the medic means. If Butosky is unlucky enough to live he will wake up rebuilt as a cyborg soldier and then undergo months of rehabilition before being returned to active service. Cyborgs always find a use in the core with their special abilities.
Sergeant Lemmie comes over with an encouraging message. "Squads finished their weapon checks. They are ready to move out on your order to kick some more alien ass."

Draxon nods with chuckling smirk, "Insider this tetrahedron is the Alien big boss waiting for us. Did we come prepared?"

"Roger with that Boss! the ole sarge here makes sure Draxons squad is always prepared. The ball breaker is crated in the ships cargo hold. "
The ball-breaker is aptly names because it fires gravimetric pulses from a linear centrifugal cannon which force can stop a charging space rhinosouos. It is the pain monkey for aliens whoses unnatural evolution has made them too big for the cosmos boots. .

To Draxon the presence of Sergeant Lemmie on this mission is like the anchor of the ship. Lemmie by far the eldest of the squad; is a forty plus year career veteran of the space marine core. A rough blood and guts battled forged product of the the old school brigade. Back then the the academy training was a brutal unforgiving rote system of hard lessons. Trainees, as an typical example, regularly would be singled at random and ordered to fight hand in hand in combat, even to the death. Extreme as it may sound in them old days the space frontieer was pushed to its limits wih the clear message to the first line of offense; was do or die. A elegantly brutal and rudimentry effective system for getting the best out of a marine. Hence there was rarely a retreat and certainly no surrender for them old school spacemarines.

Draxon is neither a spring chicken with ten years of battlefield experience. A challenge it always is bringing the youngblood up tp speed. He discusses the next route wit with lieutenant Riea who is a twenty seven year old a few years out of the academy. This is the first real combat mission she has been deployed on. After graduating from the space marine academy she was placed straight into administation role. She says she was getting bored with that and wanted a greater challenge. Her job was to assess navigation routes for shipping of miltary supplies between systems. Shes got it now and the worry on her face is showing, no doubt cursing herself for volunteering herself for a suicide mission. Time to give her encouragement.

"You have a good job calculating the wormhole route to locate the enemy. Now I need you to do your magic again and gives us a navigation route into this thing.

Riea fires a drone into the air which is equipped with scanners to measure for magnetic and thermal variations in the surface. . Several million simultaneous equations being evaluated consequtively to give a coordinate location of potential softspot on the surface. Riea will interpret the results and give her recommendation.

The squad are standing around now fidgeting with their gadgets a sure sign they are awaiting for the next command. They will just have to wait until the results of the surface scan are analysed by the computer Sergeant Lemmie suggests Draxon give the marines an mission update before they venture younder.

"Ok troops now listen up! This is the last major mission objective before the squad earns its three months of R&R. Now some of you may be thinking after that last battle; what if I am next. Yes well! you could be next like Butosky but hey look on the bright side if you come back as a cyborg you will be eligible for special tax concessions. It may surprise some of you to know cyborgs retire on average ten years earlier than ordinary joes like us. So enough of the waffle alright I will give it to you all straight. There is a big bad mother of an Alien boss insider this thing and our orders are too kill him dead and retrieve the articles on him. Can't tell you what he looks like other than butt ugly. Life is tough for a spacemarine but thats ok because you will have a chance soon to vent all your frustrations. Any questions?

"yeh! does this have a tiolet I think I need to go before we hit him." comes a reply with an eruption of laughter.
The squads moral is high is the best pyschology of all for circumventing the inner voice of common sense. Riea shakes his arm to break him for his stupor of thoughts . "I have calculated us a foot trajectory." exclaims Reia.

A tactical holomap displays the Tretrahedron's terrain surface topology . Different coloured lines connected by nodes. The green line shows the navigators preferred route between to the softspot in the surface.
"The weakest structural point in the surface is marked at the cross. It has to be the way in Draxon."

Draxons gives the command for the squad to fall out. They bound in arcing strides towards the breaking light of green sun rising from the edge of the tetrahedron. The seemingly super atheletic feat made possible by the inertial variation thrusters built into the boots. Lemmie commences the chorus of the spacemarines warsong.

"boom chugga lugga boom chugga lugga
we are the 41st Ultra space squadron
we are the enigmas in conundrums
nobody knows anything about us
we are the 41st Ultra space squadron
boom chugga lugga boom chugga lugga
we are the 41st Ultra space squadron
we fight Brobdingnagians
kick their ass and spit on their ding dongs
come big boys come and get some
we are the 41st Ultra space squadron

Riea confides to Suntier the medic her inner thoughts, "I keep hearing whispering voices in the wind calling my name; its really creeping me out."

"its all in your head it is a vacuum which surrounds us here."

"No I hear them for real I tell you!"

"Yeh I believe you I am hearing them to now. There must be a electromagnetic emitter out here launching a pysch attach on us."

Loud shrieks and horns can be heard by all the pysch attach is increasing. The sure sign they are getting closer to the soft spot where they can enter this thing. Then the hallinations commence a fleet of winged dragons are gliding silently overhead.
Draxon ignores the pysch attack for he is has experienced its subterfuge many times before . It feels like the the soul being haunted. Stay alert and focused keep telling oneself and yet it still gets in. What more effective method to erode resolve without making contact. The voices will not let up they speak over and over.

"Your place in Hell is waiting."

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