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Business As Usual Gideon and the Techmarine stood on opposite sides of the plasteel table on which Gideon’s power fist lay. In the white, sterile room, walls lined with gun cabinets containing all manner of weaponry, mundane and exotic, they were the only two present. “Your armour, and now your armaments, have all been reviewed, checked, cleaned, optimised and blessed by yourself and myself”, spoke the Techmarine, resplendent in his black studded power armour, “but do you need to be equipping yourself so soon? You are not fighting, and we have not been informed of any conflicts requiring your presence. Why put the strain back on your holy equipment so soon?” As expected, Gideon knew exactly what he was doing. “My vigilance is justified. I have been a Marine for centuries, always fighting, training, and praying. Experienced I may be, but that is no excuse for complacency. I wish to keep training, especially in peaceful times such as now, where there are opportunities.” “As ever, your words are of wisdom. Do you wish to begin now?”. The Techmarine did not need to mince his words. He knew what he had to do, and what was expected of him. “If it is possible,” Gideon replied. There was no point in him wasting time. “Of course. Let us go to the training rooms…” Opening the heavy slide-door behind him, the Techmarine and Gideon walked down a corridor of metallic walls, computers on one side calculating the results of their masters’ input. Thick windows showed a collection of Neophytes in artificial environments that only they could see. From the outside, it looked as if they were ducking and rolling out of insanity. At the end of the corridor, the Techmarine touched the panel to the side of one door. It slid open, and they entered. “Highest class training environments please”, commanded Gideon. As the Techmarine walked over to a supercomputer and begin inputting commands of his own, Gideon watched the Neophytes undergoing their own training. One of them caught his eye. One that he recognised. As the particular Neophyte aimed his bolt pistol at a phantom target, Gideon clicked. How come he hadn’t known sooner? It was Darius, the promising fledgling that Gideon had taken under his own wing. Obviously eager to match the standard of his superior. Gideon gestured to the Techmarine to stop. “Get me into that Neophyte’s environment,” he said, pointing to Darius. “His is already underway. Why, sir?” “I know him well. He won’t mind. I think I could teach him a thing or two.” Gideon watched as Darius took a hurried dive to the floor. The kid was getting himself into trouble. “So it shall be done,” sighed the Techmarine. Punching a few more buttons, Gideon took a few strides towards Darius. Suddenly two worlds merged in a blur, and he was on a battlefield. A dead Ork was close to his feet, while another was nearby, lunging at Darius with a huge axe. The younger warrior was trying to find a way to get an attack in. The Ork was too fast and powerful to let him. Gideon checked his sides. He was armed with a bolt pistol and a knife. Basic Ork combat simulator stage 2 it was. Unholstering the pistol, he let off three rounds into the Ork’s back. It juddered upwards, then squealed in a strange, Orky manner. As it fell backwards, Gideon could see the hilt of Darius’ knife protruding from under the sternum. Darius recognised his mentor. “Master, what was that for? With all respect and thanks for your assistance, I would like to learn to fend for myself in combat.” “Wise decision, Darius. I’m afraid I couldn’t help but come in here to help you. I was about to do something like this on my own, but…”. Gideon trailed off. What he meant to say was this – he was feeling worried. Worried that he might be going mad. “But what sir?” Gideon gathered his thoughts. “How many battles have we fought together, Darius?” “About three, in two separate campaigns, if you count them as entirely separate encounters, which you would. Why, sir?” “Though we will not always fight together, it is a matter of fact that we usually will. Even if I am not there, you will always be fighting with partners and groups. You operate well with a squad, don’t you?” “I like to believe so, sir.” “How would you work in a group against a Tyranid, Darius?” Darius thought to himself. “Like I would against an Ork or an Eldar, sir. Barring exceptions.” “Do you believe you fight well against the Orks and Eldar?” “I have
not seen enough combat to say for myself, sir.” Gideon
paused, silent for a few seconds. “I think I will not intrude on your business for much longer. Kept training yourself against brutal Orks and slender Eldar by all means, but remember the other dangers. The demons we fought – they were not at full strength, their master was largely using up their power. Beware of demons, Darius. Tyranids as well – I am not sure if you would fare as well against a Genestealer as you would against the Ork. There are others, too….”. Darius waited for his master to continue. “I do not mean to intimidate you. Carry on as you were, but remember – so long as you fight well, you have centuries to live. More than enough time to encounter all of these enemies and more. Be sure you are prepared when you meet them.” As Darius
thought about what he had just been told, Gideon went on back to his own
activity. The pair, along with the others, continued working, unaware of what
each other was up to. The Techmarines repaired damaged vehicles and equipment, and observed maintenance of those still functioning. The Apothecaries treated wounded battle-brothers. The Chaplains lead their services, preaching the word of the Emperor. Marines trained, worked, prayed, never idle. Other Marines off the planet fought for the good of the Imperium. Whether in peace or in war, the Black Templars always occupied themselves with the Emperor’s work, carrying it out to the best of their ability. It was business as usual.
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