the middle of the pack, one wearing a torn and ragged flight suit. ‘They’re planning to fly out of here!’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Dysen said. ‘Genestealers aren’t capable of operating complex mechanica. Piloting a shuttle requires dexterity and intellect.’
‘Which their hybrids possess!’ I practically screamed at him. I’m no expert on the subject, but I’d encountered enough nests of the pernicious creatures to know that, after a few generations, some of their offspring are all but indistinguishable from humans[86]. ‘Besides, they’ve implanted the pilot!’
‘How can you tell?’ Kyper asked, in what seemed like honest confusion.
‘Because he looks like he’s bladdered,’ Jurgen supplied helpfully, ‘and cogboys don’t drink.’ As if to underline his words, the pilot stumbled, clutched at the arm of the nearest multi-limbed horror to steady himself, and staggered on, leaning against it for support, looking remarkably like a couple of Guardsmen determined to sample every bar in town before their two day pass expires.
‘The brood mind is still trying to integrate him,’ I explained, rather more diplomatically, ‘which is why he seems so disorientated. In a short while, even his closest friends won’t notice anything out of the ordinary.’
‘He hardly seems in a fit state to fly,’ Kyper said, undeterred. ‘And our heavy combat servitors will have scoured the vessel long before he is.’
‘He doesn’t have to be,’ I explained, as though to a child. As if to underline the urgency of the situation, a thin wisp of sulphurous vapour drifted in though the open hangar roof, and I watched it coil around the supporting girderwork with distant fascination, as though seeing the future of this world in microcosm. If the brood escaped from here, they’d go to ground, spreading their taint until everything was enmeshed in their toxic grip, waiting for the day they grew strong enough to challenge humanity for the mastery of Fecundia. ‘The brood mind has access to all his knowledge. One of the hybrids can fly the ship.’
‘It seems you’re right,’ Dysen said, to my surprise. ‘One of them is now seating itself on the flight deck.’ Emperor alone knows how he could tell that[87], but I was happy to take his word for it. Any doubts I might have had about his veracity were rapidly dispelled by the rising scream of the shuttle’s engines as they powered up for take-off.
‘Then there’s no time to lose,’ Kyper said decisively, rallying what was left of his men with a rapidly modulated squeal of high-pitched gibberish which made my teeth ache. ‘We must assault before they leave the ground.’ He turned to me, and for a heart-stopping instant I thought I was going to be invited to lead this suicidal charge down the maw of the enemy. ‘Commissar, I must ask you to ensure the safety of the Magos Senioris.’
‘I’m gratified by your confidence,’ I said gravely, careful not to say anything that sounded like a guarantee. For once I wasn’t going to have to work at extricating myself from the sharp end, and I took a moment to savour the novelty.
In another moment they’d gone, charging towards the shuttle with all the finesse of a mob of orks, but I couldn’t deny they looked well nigh unstoppable. The brood mind clearly disagreed, though, as a flood of enraged chitin boiled out of the open boarding ramp, meeting them head-on in a clash which seemed to shake the very walls.
‘Why don’t they just take off?’ Jurgen wondered aloud as battle was joined anew, with inhuman ferocity on both sides. Talon against chainblade, las-bolt against fang, the eventual winner anybody’s guess. Watching the intricate dance of that lethal melee, I could only be thankful that this time I’d been left on the sidelines. ‘They were all aboard and ready to go.’
‘A good question,’ I mused, my palms tingling again. We were missing something, I was sure of it. Then a flash of movement caught my eye, and I whirled to face the door. ‘And one with a bloody bad answer!’ Which I should have expected. After all, I’d heard firing elsewhere in the building on my way up here. If I’d thought about it at all, other than simply trying to avoid it, I would have assumed it was just a handful of stray ‘stealers like the ones Jurgen and I had encountered being tidied up by the skitarii, but this was something far worse.
‘That’s the broodlord,’ Jurgen supplied helpfully, as if I hadn’t recognised the terrifying apparition at once. I’d faced another just like it in the