'But it was a good explosion,' said Himmlik. 'I like a good explosion.' He patted the cloth satchel filled with melta flasks he wore at his hip. 'May there be many more.'

'We could have ridden all the way into the magazine, now we're going to have to walk,' grumbled Gren.

'No, brother,' said Bror, 'now you're going to have to run!'

Doors were breached all along the gallery. Fresh volumes of atmosphere hurried out to leap into space. The Vlka Fenryka pushed into the current, howling and discharging their weapons as they split up to take ruin onwards into the ship's body.

More explosions rumbled the deck as Bror's pack pressed on to their next target.

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Two

Wolf Hunt

There was little resistance on the way to the magazine. Armed servitors were the toughest foes the wolf pack faced, but they were easily dealt with, if one had the knack.

Bror's pack of Long Fangs were battle cunning. A few scratches in their armour was the worst they suffered.

Bror's futharc markings had run out some time before, and not long afterwards they passed into a part of the ship devoid of life. There were refectories and common halls there, but they were empty, appearing deserted for some time.

The magazine was a tricky proposition. Buried too far in the guts of the Vengeful Spirit to be taken out by a hit from outside, and prodigiously armoured, it needed tackling from within, and it had been designed to foil such attempts.

The magazine was cellular in construction, being made up of giant, armoured silos arranged in multiples of six. Each group was isolated by deep chasms that ran all the way down to the bilges. Armoured panels big as fortress walls baffled the sides of the metal canyon, held out from the walls on huge pistons to absorb any detonation of the shell stores. The chasms' main purpose was to channel blast forces up and out of the ship via chimneys set high into the superstructure, but they acted as well as defensive moats as they did fire breaks. Each silo was connected by two-level retractable bridges to the greater body of the ship. On the top were companionways of open mesh. Below them were the railroads for the shell loaders.

Fortunately for the Rout, the bridges remained extended. Some of the magazines were inactive, cut off from the guns by the Vlka Fenryka's sabotaging of their rail lines. Most kept up a constant squealing rattle of wheels on tracks as servitor carts dragged shells from the stores and took them away to the batteries.

They selected the middle silo in the central group of six for detonation.

A pair of twinned autocannons in turrets were slung under their target's gate arch. They panned back and forth in monotonous sweeps, their augur eyes glowing a baleful red.