Prassan kept his mouth closed. He looked down, tracing his finger over the aquila on the vox-unit. He coughed to clear his throat, and said, ‘And the Valkyrie?’

There was a pause.

‘They’ve been hit, but they’re coming in!’ Prassan said.

The Valkyrie staggered the last half mile towards the shore. The air inside the cabin was tense, Guardsmen packed close together, more than normal safe operation would allow. There was nothing worse than being reliant on someone else. The waist gunners yanked their sliding doors open and leaned their heavy bolters out.

The guns’ deep-throated chatter competed with the rattle and wind of the Valkyrie.

‘Looks like they spotted us,’ Baine stated. His face was pale. He was clearly holding back the pain of his hands.

Minka nodded. She didn’t like this any more than the others.

The Valkyrie lurched to the side, throwing them all against their restraints. Wind tore at them. Sparks flew through the cabin. Part of the fuselage had been sheared off.

‘We’ve been hit,’ Asko hissed. He still had that stub of lho-stick in his teeth.

The cabin was full of smoke. One waist gunner had been almost cut in two by a lascannon; his superheated flesh had exploded when the bolt went through him, splattering viscera across the inner panels and cabin door. His bleeding remains lay half in and half out of the doorway.

The other one was crawling across the floor to them. He had been hit by shrapnel. He was making an incoherent mewling sound.

Minka unwound herself from the harness. She was as shaken up as the others.

The Valkyrie was listing heavily. The engines rattled as if they were full of shrapnel. Even though they couldn’t see outside, they could tell that they were falling fast.

‘Get the door open!’ Minka shouted.

Baine had Karni by the shoulder. ‘Hold on!’ he called out.

There was a loud bang in the engine above their heads, and the cabin was suddenly full of spraying hydraulics.

Staff in the watchtower of Phaeton Airbase X-94 saw the lights of the lone Valkyrie coming in low. Thick black smoke bled out from one engine while the other spluttered and coughed.

A fire response unit was already backing into place, its yellow flashing lights casting an eerie glow over the landing pad. The wind had fallen, just enough to ruffle the wind-sock.

They fixed their attention on that Valkyrie. It was losing height too quickly. Its landing lights seemed too distant for it to make it.

It was still a hundred yards away when there was a sudden bang.

Flames appeared along its fuselage and the Valkyrie dropped like a stone. It hit the ground belly first, skidding forwards and losing both wings in the tumble before bursting into flame.