'This way,' he said, unnecessarily, as the thick steel plate moved smoothly aside, with none of the metallic groaning I'd become used to aboard the vessels I'd travelled on. Jurgen shone his luminator down the corridor thus revealed, picking out nothing more threatening than another identical portal closing off the end of it some ten or twelve metres away.

  'After you,' I said, mindful of my earlier fears, and unwilling to find myself trapped between a jammed doorway and a lumbering ceramite giant if it all went ploin-shaped, something my well-developed paranoid streak kept insisting could only be a matter of time. Whatever the tech-priest might prefer to believe, there were definitely genestealers somewhere around, and that meant they were bound to show up sooner or later. 'Anything on the auspex?' It was also a pretty safe bet that, like the Terminator we'd passed on our way here, Blain had enough sensory gear built into his helmet to give us a useful head start if the 'stealers started moving in on our position.

  'Nothing significant,' Blain said. 'I'm picking up faint signs of movement on the deck above us, but nothing on this level at all.' He led the way into the narrow passage, filling it almost completely, like a mobile wall, while Jurgen and I trotted in his wake, our weapons aimed back behind us in case of unexpected ambush. A moment later he stopped abruptly, almost provoking an undignified collision. 'It should be through here.'

  Another pneumatic hiss, as air pressures equalised on either side of the opening door, and he stepped through into a wider pool of darkness. Jurgen followed, sweeping the laminator around the walls, and, reassured that there was nothing lurking in the gloom waiting to pounce, I took up the rear.

  We were in another square chamber, I realised at once, the ambient echoes enough to tell me that even if the beam of my aide's luminator hadn't been bouncing off the walls, picking out another three doors, all closed. Blain was plodding towards the middle of the enclosed space, casually pushing aside a few scattered cargo containers which would have taxed a heavy-lift servitor, when he stopped and looked down. (Or, to be more accurate, his helmet tilted a few degrees from the vertical, which seemed to be about as much head movement as anyone wearing a Terminator suit was capable of.)

  'It's over here,' he said, gesturing towards a tangle of twisted metal by his foot.

  Jurgen and I hurried over to join him, the shattered mechanism pinned in the beam of the luminator. I activated my comm-bead, staring at the wrecked CAT in perplexity. Things had indeed taken a turn for the worse, but not quite in the manner I'd anticipated.

  'Drumon,' I voxed, 'we've found it. And you were right about an environmental factor being to blame.'

  'With respect, commissar,' Yaffel cut in, before the Techmarine was able to reply, 'that's hardly a determination you're qualified to make.'

  'In this case I am,' I said, not too perturbed to enjoy the moment.

  'Somebody's shot it. With a medium-calibre bolter, if the damage is anything to go by.'

  There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only by the faint hissing of static, before Drumon replied. 'Genestealers do not use guns.'

  'Hybrids do,' I said, with the unshakable authority of personal experience. 'I recommend you proceed with extreme caution.' Which was hardly necessary advice under the circumstances, but it wouldn't hurt to look as though I was taking the mission seriously.

  'Noted,' Drumon replied, in the tones of a man intending to follow that advice to the letter.

  I turned to Blain. 'Anything on the auspex within firing range?' I asked, suddenly conscious that what might have seemed a reasonably safe distance from a purestrain would be anything but from a hybrid with a bolter.

  'Still nothing on this level,' he assured me, sounding faintly disappointed - but then he was walking around behind enough ceramite to shrug off a direct hit from anything short of a tank shell. 5

  Not being similarly blessed, I was a great deal less sanguine, you may be sure.

  I walked around the chewed-up mechanism, wondering how best to shift it. Up close, it seemed a lot larger, and considerably more unwieldy, than I'd anticipated. Jurgen and I should still be able to manage it between us, though, but it would mean having to stow our weapons, and for a moment I hesitated; but our journey back to the hangar bay would be protected by the cordon of Terminators, so the risk of doing that should be minimal, and the only alternative I could see was to admit defeat and catch up with the others. I'd promised Drumon I'd recover his toy, and scuttling back to the Thunderhawk without it would undermine my credibility with his Chapter, so it was either that or show willing by taking my turn as 'stealer bait. Something about the shattered CAT's position seemed subtly wrong to me, although I couldn't for the life of me see why.

  'How do you think it got in here?' Jurgen asked, and I shrugged, my mind still mainly engaged with the more pressing matter of where best to get a grip on the blasted thing.

  'The same way we did, I suppose,' I told him.

  'Oh.' He frowned in perplexity. 'I just don't see how it got the door open, that's all.'

  'It couldn't,' I said in some alarm, glancing at the open portal behind us, and the three others, all firmly closed. I brought my laspistol up and began backing away towards the door we'd come in by, trying to keep all the scattered cargo containers covered at once. Confident as always in my judgement, though Emperor knows why, Jurgen brought his lasgun up to a firing position and fell into place at my back, bringing a welcome sense of greater security and a blast of halitosis as he did so.

  'Commissar?' Blain asked, sounding about as baffled as my aide usually did. 'Is something wrong?'

  'The room was sealed when we arrived,' I said, chills of apprehension chasing one another down my spine. 'Whatever shot it could still be here.'

  'If it was, it would have registered on the auspex before we entered,' Blain said, with what sounded suspiciously like a trace of amusement in his tone. 'And it would be dead by now.'

  I should have found that reassuring, but for some reason it only increased my apprehension. I stared at the detritus surrounding the crippled CAT, and sudden horrified understanding burst in on me.

  'The blips on the next level,' I asked urgently. 'How close are they?'

  'A score or so metres,' Blain replied evenly.

  'Out! Now!' I said, Jurgen responding instantly, as I'd known he would, while the Terminator simply took a couple of paces in our direction, no doubt wondering if I'd lost my wits. Suddenly the air current I'd assumed was coming from a grille above our heads took on far more sinister connotations, and I drew my chainsword, powering up the blade as I did so. 'Jurgen, the ceiling!'

  'Commissar.' My aide complied at once, raising the luminator attached to his lasgun, and picking out a ragged hole in the roof of the chamber. The luckless CAT hadn't been sniped, as I'd first assumed, just struck by a single bolt from a whole burst, the rest of which had chewed up the floor plates around it badly enough to drop it through to the deck below. To my horror, the attenuated beam picked out something moving in the shadows beyond the gap, bounding forwards inhumanly fast, before flowing like quicksilver through the aperture above us.

  'Blain!' I just had time to shout. 'Look out!' then the first of the purestrains was on him. I saw the crackle of arcane energies I'd marked before in Fidelis playing about the blades at the end of his arms, as he parried the 'stealer's first blow, matching it slash for slash. It fell, bisected, while Jurgen and I opened up with our las weapons, secure in the knowledge that we could harm only our foes. Sure enough, another of the creatures fell, in the act of leaping towards us, while a few stray las-rounds expended themselves harmlessly against the reassuring bulk of the Terminator's ceramite.

  Then I felt the breath constricting in my throat. Parallel grooves had been scored deeply into the surface of the impregnable armour, where the first genestealer had struck before being dispatched, and some thick, dark fluid was seeping from it, crusting like resin to seal the damage 6 . I hesitated, unwilling to risk felling an ally by friendly fire now his suit had been breached, but events were out of my hands by this time: as Jurgen and I began to retreat down the corridor, a third pure-strain threw itself at Blain's unprotected back. He ducked forwards, lowering his right shoulder as far as the cumbersome armour would allow, trying to dislodge it in the manner of a wrestler attacked from behind, but to no avail; powerful talons tore into the ceramite as easily as a potter's fingers into clay, finding purchase where none should exist. Blain backed into the wall, hard, and chitin cracked. The 'stealer keened, an ululation of agony which made my teeth ache and pierced the space behind my eyes like a sliver of razor-edged ice, echoing off into the darkness, but held on regardless, distending its jaws as some foul-smelling ichor issued from the cracks in its carapace.

  'Turn round!' I bellowed, forgetting in the terror of the moment that Blain could hear me perfectly well over the vox. 'Let us get a shot at it!' The Terminator stumbled in our direction, abused servos in his knee and ankle joints whining in protest, but before he could comply the genestealer brought its head forwards over his own, and before my horrified eyes sank its teeth deep into the ceramite of his helmet. The deck plates shuddered as Blain fell to his knees, and the 'stealer on his back brought round a handful of wickedly curving talons, to plunge them into the joint where helmet and suit conjoined. The vox in my ear carried a small sound, somewhere between a cough and a sigh, and Blain collapsed, toppling towards Jurgen and myself, his torso clattering resonantly to the metal floor of the corridor.

  The 'stealer raised its head and stared at Jurgen and I, apparently bemused, shaking its head as if it had been dazed by the impact 7 . Then it seemed to rally, fixing me with a gaze of pure malevolence. Its momentary hesitation was to prove its undoing, however, as Jurgen and I had taken advantage of the brief respite to centre it in our sights; before it could spring at us, we fired almost as one, tearing it apart in a flurry of las-bolts.

  'Blain's down,' I voxed, 'dead, I think.' To my surprise, my voice sounded calm and authoritative, despite the panic rush of adrenaline hammering through my system. 'Three purestrains accounted for, but there are probably others close by.' The faint echo of scrabbling talons drifted to my ears. 'Correction, definitely others, moving this way.' One look at Blain's corpse, stretched across the threshold, was enough to dispel any hope of closing the door against the onrushing tide of talon and mandible; I could barely have moved his hand, never mind that mass of ceramite.

  'His lifesigns have ceased,' Drumon confirmed 8 , after what was probably no more than an instant or two, but seemed considerably longer. This came as a relief; for a moment I'd feared having to attempt some kind of rescue, despite the manifest impossibility of success, in order to maintain my reputation.

  'Then we're pulling out,' I said, backing away down the narrow corridor as quickly as I dared, reluctant to take my laspistol off aim for fear of the worst. And with good reason: an instant before Jurgen and I reached the opposite end, bursting arse-first into the chamber Blain had been guarding in a manner I've no doubt anyone observing our arrival would have found comical in the extreme, the head and shoulders of another purestrain erupted into the passage, the misshapen body behind it attempting to force its way past the obstructing cadavers. Jurgen and I popped off a couple of rounds each to discourage it, scoring a lucky hit or two, but the chitinous horror proved as resilient as most of its kind, merely ducking back as our las-bolts vaporised fist-sized chunks of its exoskeleton 9 . That bought us enough time to hit the palm plate, though, and before the 'stealer or any of its companions could recover, the thick metal slab slid back into place, sealing them in.

  Or us, I suppose, as they still had the run of most of the hulk; and so far as I was concerned, they were welcome to it.

  'What now, sir?' Jurgen asked. 'Should we catch up with the others?'

  I shook my head. 'Back to the Thunderhawk,' I said, no longer giving the proverbial flying one what anybody thought. I'd come up with some kind of excuse before Drumon and the cogboys returned, if they ever did. We might have evaded them this time, but the brood mind was now aware of our presence aboard the hulk, and would be mobilising its genestealers against us as surely and dispassionately as antibodies against an invading virus. I exhaled, releasing the tension which had wound my body tight, trembling a little from the adrenaline comedown, and tapped my comm-bead. 'We're back at the sentry point. More 'stealers in pursuit, but we've sealed the hatch, so the perimeter's secure again.'

  I should have known better, of course; a genestealer brood may be only a pale reflection of the tyranid hive which originally spawned it, but its gestalt intelligence is a powerful one. The broods I'd encountered on Viridia and Keffia should have taught me that, but the individual purestrains behave so much like predatory animals that I'd fallen into the trap of believing them to be little more than mindless beasts - an error pointed out to me in the most stark and graphic manner possible, as the door slid smoothly open again, and an entire pack of the creatures boiled into the room.

  NINETEEN

  'PERIMETER BREACHED!' I yelled, opening up again with my laspistol, and wishing I'd replaced the powerpack while I'd had the chance. Jurgen flicked the selector of his lasgun to full auto, no doubt reflecting that if we didn't manage to check the creatures' headlong rush, running out of ammunition was going to be the least of our worries. The leading one fell under the hail of las-bolts, not a second too soon, still reaching out for me, and I swatted its wickedly taloned hand aside with the blade of my chainsword as I retreated.

  To my horror, a babble of overlapping voices answered my warning, and the distant roar of heavy bolters echoing through the corridors from what seemed like every direction immediately confirmed my worst fears. It seemed the genestealers had merely been biding their time, building up their numbers at the limits of auspex range, before attacking in force.

  'Multiple signals all round!' one of the Terminators confirmed. 'Closing fast.'

  'Engaging,' another called, as I cracked off a fusillade of shots at the 'stealer bounding over the corpse of the group leader, seemingly fixated on ripping my spleen out. This time the las-bolts barely slowed it, and I parried the first slash of its talons with my chainsword, feeling the screaming teeth bite deep into chitin. I followed up reflexively, stepping inside the reach of its quartet of arms, and driving the tip of the blade up through its jaw as I did so, to bury it deep in the creature's brain.

  'Commissar!' Jurgen fired another burst, slowing the next one as it lunged, and I pivoted aside, dragging the expiring 'stealer with me to impede the progress of its fellow, as the chainblade ripped free, bisecting its skull. 'This way!' He'd taken up a position defending the door we'd first entered the chamber by, guarding our line of retreat back to the Thunderhawk, and I made haste to join him, shooting randomly into the middle of the pack as I went. His lasgun barked again, then went silent. 'Sorry sir, I'm dry.'

  Deprived of his covering fire I fell back on my duellist's reflexes, retreating step by step, parrying by pure instinct each blow that sought to eviscerate me. There was no time for thought, and if I tried I'd be dead. A couple of times I fired my pistol again, once downing another of the 'stealers with a lucky shot through the eye socket, but relying in the main for my survival on the well-worn blade in my hand. I've no doubt that the hours of practice I'd spent in the Revenant's tertiary training chapel, and my sparring bouts with Drumon, saved my miserable skin in those few frantic moments, the keen edge they'd imparted to my fighting skills making all the difference.

  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Jurgen's hand dip into one of his array of pouches, but, to my surprise and consternation, instead of the lasgun powercell I'd been expecting, he drew out a frag grenade. Before I could shout a word of caution he'd already primed it, only the pressure of his grip forestalling an explosion which would undoubtedly kill us both in so confined a space. Watching me intently, he retreated a step or two, into the corridor behind him.

  Well, grenade or no, it still seemed a healthier place to be than the middle of a genestealer swarm, so I swung the chainsword in a last desperate arc, driving my assailants back for the space of a heartbeat, and scrambled through the portal myself, smacking the palm plate as I passed it. Not that closing the door had helped much the last time, but even a second or two's head start would be better than nothing, and after more than a decade of serving together I thought I had a pretty good idea of what Jurgen had in mind.

  I was right. The second I reached for the door control my aide lobbed the frag charge he'd readied, and the metal slab slid smoothly closed just before it detonated. The dull thump of the explosion was followed instantly by a metallic clatter, like someone dropping a tray full of tanna spoons 1 , as the hailstorm of razor-edged shrapnel shards pattered against the sheltering steel plate. (With any luck after passing through a considerable thickness of intervening genestealer.)

  'Nicely done,' I congratulated my aide, and he nodded with quiet satisfaction. 'But what would you have done if they'd killed me before I got to the door control?'

  'Hit the plate with my elbow,' Jurgen said, as incapable as ever of recognising a joke, and I nodded too, as if considering the matter.

  'That would have worked,' I conceded. 'But I'm pleased I could save you the bother.'

  'Me too, sir,' he agreed, snapping another powercell into his lasgun at last, and, sure that he was now able to keep the door covered in case of any more unpleasant surprises, I lost no time in following suit. According to the glowing runes in the butt which kept track of such things, the number of shots remaining were down to single figures, and I wanted a lot more than that in hand with 'stealers on the loose.

  We waited tensely for a second or two, our weapons aimed at the blank metal slab, but if there were any 'stealers left on the other side capable of opening it to pursue us they had more sense than to try. When it became clear nothing was going to happen, I turned and began to lead the way back towards the Thunderhawk at a rapid jog. I must admit it crossed my mind to put a las-bolt through the palm plate, just to make sure we couldn't be followed, but reason prevailed over the impulse. I'd hardly be able to maintain my good standing with the Reclaimers if anyone survived the genestealers' initial onslaught, only to discover that I'd sealed them in with a slavering horde of ravening purestrains, and there was no guarantee that damaging the controls would secure the hatch in any case. For all I knew, the machine-spirit which had nursed this wrecked vessel for so long would react to such casual vandalism by opening it again out of pique, and the last thing I needed was provoking it into siding with the chitinous horrors. As it turned out, I was going to be grateful for my restraint sooner than I expected.

 

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