Gobleka saw the target through his scope. A big, bald man, trying to keep low, pushed out of cover and back along the control deck by the fury of Davinch’s double-fire. He tracked, settled to fire–

The target vanished. Gobleka’s scope went blank, and his suppressed burst went wide. He realised a damn insect had landed on the lens of his scope. He shook the weapon to dislodge it and tried to find the target again.

Suddenly, shots were coming at him. From a different angle. They struck the gantry decking, drawing sparks as they gouged the metal. A second shooter.

Gobleka rolled aside. Where the hell was that coming from? Several more shots thukked into the gantry under him.

Below. The shooter was below him.

He slid forwards to line up.

Macks lowered her autorifle for a second.

‘Come on!’ Drusher yelled at her. ‘Germaine!’

‘I see him,’ she growled. ‘That bastard who killed Hadeed!’

She fired off another suppressed burst. Shots came back at her, plinking off the catwalk frame, shivering hundreds of settled insects into the air in an agitated flurry.

‘Move,’ she yelled at Drusher and Voriet. ‘Get to the stairs!’

Drusher looked at her and knew she wasn’t going to shift position until she’d taken her target out. He got his arm around Voriet and began to scurry around the catwalk circuit towards the stairs.

Macks kicked off another burst. She’d lost sight of the bearded man. Over the din of the machine, she could hear overlapping gunshots: Nayl’s Tronsvasse, answered by cracking bursts of las-fire.

Further volleys of heavy fire ripped across the gulf at her, rattling and scoring the catwalk. A support cable snapped with a whip-crack.

She looked around. There had to be a better angle. Blayg’s autorifle had a broken strap, so she gripped it carefully, slid under the handrail on her belly, and jumped.

She landed a metre lower on the cast-iron casing of a Loom section. She teetered. The surface was slippery with machine oil. There was nothing to hold on to. She began to edge along. Locusts got in her face. Her foot slipped. She remained upright. If she followed the casing, she’d be within grabbing range of a service ladder.

Shots whined past her at a steep angle. Two pinged off the casing behind her. Macks moved fast and took a running jump off the end of the casing. She hit the ladder, and clung on with her free hand, desperate not to lose her hold on the rifle.

She started to climb.

Gobleka tried to track the woman. He saw her take a huge risk and jump from the catwalk. Now she was virtually beneath him. The damn insects were everywhere, fogging air that was already clouded with smoke.