The flock swooped low, razor claws and snapping beaks scratching and clattering against uncaring ceramite. Nem­etus’ shield flared as he smashed aside a diving apparition, giving himself time to swap pistol for blade. Yet in the second it took him to ready his sword, the swarm had moved on, swirling around the Intercessors behind him.

Suddenly aware that his force was being turned by the threat in their midst, Nem­etus called to the companions around him to ready themselves. Though the beast assault was an ideal prelude to a counter-attack, the mutant crew did not venture from their hiding places but continued to snipe with poor marksmanship.

Inhuman screeching and the buzz of chainswords sounded from the mists. Blade held high, its gleam lighting his dark armour, Admonius led Audacity in a charge, hacking and sweeping at the winged creatures as they clung and clawed at the battle-brothers.

‘Push on,’ Nem­etus told Tenacity, thrusting his sword towards the waiting mutants. ‘Our brothers keep our backs.’

His shield sparking from autogun bullets, Nem­etus led the way, the enemy’s shells and las-bolts converging and intensifying as he advanced with determined strides along the broad passage. A few rounds zipped past his defence to careen harmlessly from his warplate, while the snap of bolt propellant sounded around him, the streak of his battle-brothers’ fire like a guiding light, bright sparks that intermittently shattered the darkness ahead.

The mutants held their ground and died where they stood. Their steadfast refusal to withdraw was perhaps strategically unsound, but spoke of a zealotry that was rare to see in the ranks of traitors. Selfishness was a trait that led one to the Dark Powers, but the crew of the enemy vessel seemed not only willing to die for their uncaring masters but perhaps wished for it. Coming upon them with blazing sword, he was happy to make martyrs of them all. None would remember their sacrifice.

As he hewed down a canine-faced woman, Nem­etus signalled for the squad to halt, before they became separated from their supporting squad of Intercessors. The fight against the flying beasts had broken down into a few scattered skirmishes, the bulk of the Intercessors now reformed and directing fire once more at the pockets of crew arrayed along the passageway and on gantries and mezzanines above.

Within forty-five seconds of the aerial attack starting, all but a handful of Space Marines were again advancing with purpose.

Relocating the landing zone had taken the enemy completely ­unawares, it seemed. To Nem­etus’ mind it appeared that the foe had been so intent upon their lure and ambuscade that they were unable to react with any coherence to the real axis of attack. Crew, both mutant and untainted, scrambled to the defence as best they could, but there was no coordinated effort to draw the Space Marines into a more protracted engagement that would slow or halt their momentum until reinforcements arrived.