It took Lin ten days, working through the dismantled husks of destroyed power packs and riveting together salvaged ceramite armour plates, to finally field a five-man CMC powered-suit squad.
With the hydroelectric station fully operational, the steady flow of electricity did more than just improve the Astartes' quality of life — it freed up the power packs. Most of them were still trickling charge through their solar collection arrays, but Lin consolidated the stored energy into three packs. Running only basic suit functions, those three packs could sustain roughly an hour of combat.
An hour was not long — a pittance compared to what Astartes typically demanded for prolonged operations in hostile environments. But Lin's plan called only for hunting a Rathalos, and one hour was more than enough for that.
The key to hunting the Rathalos lay in the three power swords Lin had maintained using the same EVA-pattern energy cells he had produced. Even in the 30K era, where technology still flourished, power swords were weapons of rare distinction. Typically reserved for Imperial officers, these specialised blades allowed their wielders to ignite the weapon's energy cell in close combat, wreathing the entire length of the blade in a lethal corona of destructive energy — a decisive edge in melee.
During the first encounter with the Rathalos, Lin had already confirmed that the plasma pistol inflicted more damage than other weapons. That meant this world's Rathalos shared the same weakness to lightning as its counterpart in Monster Hunter. Given that, a modest modification to the power swords' output mode would give them the exact same elemental advantage.
Without power swords, Lin would have had to proceed with extreme caution regardless of how many more warriors he brought. But it was precisely this subtle cross-world elemental exploit that gave him the confidence to hunt a Rathalos with so few men.
He intended to use this squad to test the creature's true capabilities — and to take the measure of these Astartes at the same time.
Lin reviewed the makeshift Rathalos hunting party assembled before him. The three warriors who would lead the charge — armed with power swords and clad in power armour — were under the command of Sergeant Arlo, said to be the finest blademasters in the company. The five-man CMC powered-suit fire-support and utility squad was led by Lieutenant Vigan, who had spent years leading hunting parties to bring in small Velocidrome-type creatures for the camp's supplies. No one could match his read of a hunt or his instinct for field command.
Beyond their standard power armour, all eight men had adorned themselves with pouches stitched from hides they had hunted themselves, and small bones harvested from the lesser wyverns of the region. The hunting bags — stuffed with flashbombs made from glow insects and other useful tools — and the decorative monster bones served a double purpose: practical field kit and a declaration of hunting honours. From Lin's perspective, the whole ensemble had a certain quality to it — a strange, compelling fusion of past and future, something that genuinely resembled a Monster Hunter.
Resembled, at least. After discovering that the bones of the female Rathian were no less hard than refined ceramite, Lin had arrived at a sober assessment of what the large draconic species on this planet were actually made of. Knowing that, he could only marvel at what hunters in Monster Hunter must truly be — that a single person, alone and unaided, could bring down creatures of that calibre.
The saving grace was that Lin had armed twice as many men as a hunter firing off a signal flare.
The Astartes' way of war suited this perfectly. These superhuman warriors did not rely on individual prowess — the secret of their victories over every enemy of humanity had always been coordinated teamwork. And if things went wrong, they could cover one another's withdrawal.
Lin had every confidence in his squad. Besides, whatever the difference in individual strength, certain hunting principles applied universally.
His review complete, Lin raised his hand and signalled the squad to move out. Lieutenant Admir and Deputy Aibo were needed back at the base to continue construction according to Lin's plans and blueprints, guided by the servo-skulls — so Lin himself took overall command of the hunting party.
As an experimental hunt to verify results, Lin skipped any formal send-off ceremony. The squad departed in quiet solemnity. They moved swiftly to the area where the Rathalos had last been sighted — the crash site of the escape pod was still there, along with the power armour that had been abandoned in the hasty evacuation.
Lin first had his men recover the hidden power armour and the small sub-warp engine they had stashed earlier, then selected the ground he judged best for the decisive engagement with the Rathalos. Only then did he settle in to wait.
The Rathalos was not a patient breed. Known as the King of the Skies, they were creatures of extraordinary bloodlust and savagery — even with a full belly, they would often kill for no purpose at all. Before long, startled birds bursting from the treeline and herbivores scattering in blind panic told Lin exactly where the Rathalos was.
"Prepare to hunt!"
He called out the order and strode forward with his solar axe in hand. Moments later, the Rathalos came into view.
The scarred, half-healed wound on its back confirmed this was the same creature that had hunted Lin and Lieutenant Admir ten days ago. At the moment, it had one massive taloned foot pinned across the carcass of a herbivore, head down, gorging itself without a care.
This was unusual behaviour for a Rathalos. By its nature, even with prey already taken, it would normally slaughter every target it could run down within sight. But Lin's eyes settled on the healing wound, and understanding quietly crossed his face.
"It's replenishing nutrients to repair the injury," he told the hunters of the squad. "That plasma shot clearly did real damage last time. The wound looks close to recovered, though — it probably won't limit its combat ability now. Stay sharp."
"Now that we know lightning does bonus damage to it, I'd say the odds are in our favour." Sergeant Arlo gave his power sword a casual flourish. "So what's the call — do we hit it while it's still eating?"
Lin shook his head. "Don't let the feeding fool you — its alertness is extremely high. Our power armour isn't light. It almost certainly sensed us approaching through the vibration in the ground. But that doesn't matter. Stick to the original plan. If anything changes, I'll tell you over the comm."
Sergeant Arlo gave a nod and sealed his helmet. He and the other two warriors in MK II power armour spread apart and began encircling the Rathalos, then slowly tightened in a triangular formation.
Perhaps sensing the encirclement, the Rathalos lifted its head from its meal. It lashed its tail with irritable force and let out a low, impatient growl.
Sergeant Arlo didn't flinch. He and his brothers kept pressing in, while Lieutenant Vigan and his fire team fanned out separately, each finding favourable covered positions for ranged support.
The Rathalos scanned the ring closing around it, seeming to decide which target to strike first. Then its gaze landed on Lin — and its eyes went wide, irises flooding blood red.
It knew this man. It remembered him. The coward who had ambushed it ten days ago and dealt it that vicious, humiliating wound.
The Rathalos threw its head back and roared. It folded its wings tight against its body, drove off the ground with both legs, and hurled itself at Lin without regard for anything else.
But Lin had been ready for this. He slipped his silhouette into the cover of the treeline and broadcast the order to everyone at once:
"Rathalos hunt — commence!"