In the bowels of the escort Cobra-class, the Night Lords of the Murderous Glint kill-team moved in systemic protocol. Their preysight bringing illumination into the beautiful darkness. The crew deck spiced of recent gore, the aroma of bolter fire, and the hints of fear.
The moment it was exposed, the alien infestation had made moves to slow the legionnaires down. The critical sectors were already locked down and viciously protected by others of the warband, auspices and the apothecary was ensuring the quarantine noose-tight.
It has been a prowling half-week of hunting.
The mortal crew had pleaded for mercy, out of animal instinct than the long-established fact - their masters had none to give. Their existence was to serve, even it meant giving their lives to their convience.
The fact that the ahborrent xeno-tainted thought it could hide among their herd was both laughable and insulting. The Lords debated for hours on culling the entire population or not, it was only by the final words of the Lord-Chaplain on the Ebon Revenant did they decided a surgical move.
A test to see just how tainted their mortals were, the Tyranids were a damnable annoyance.
Claw leader Arkerus caught movement. His fist made a gesture, the rest of the claw splayed out with wargear at the ready. The droves of slaves were already in their sectors, killing themselves in the mounting fear at the suspect of being selected by the Eighth Legionary scrunity.
And when that multi-armed mutant was caught in the middle of trying to pry into the vents, Arkerus gave no second thought in shooting it apart in two shots. More than the needed one but he've suffered these 'Genestealers' before, they were not to be underestimated.
His auto-senses telling him there was other encounters, just as quick killings but one flashed.
The Claw leader didn't vocalize, he didn't need to. Only the flash of Majoris glyph flashing to his northwest. Quick as a whip, his backpack huffed in a vent of heat and he lept up to the second level. The catwalk almost whining under power armour weight, but it didn't stop his stride.
The snarls of Brother Konroth as he made battle with something that didn't want to die on the first shot, Arkerus seeing him move and weave from talons slashing and fire reports of a stubgun. Konroth flourished his combat knife, slicing wrists and carving into a bicep before yanking the larger monster.
It was humanoid in shape but the mutations was too far gone, the obvious corruption made Arkerus sneer. How long had they been infesting their slaves?
The thought was minute compared to his bolter snapping up, firing in a burst. Each explosive strike hammering into suit-covered carapace and taut muscles, the shrill scream of agony yawning from the fanged maw. Torso crumbling but it still fought. Not till Konroth's bolt pistol aimed and blasted its skull apart from jaw under.
Then more marks were flashed with the shrill cries out from the darkness as the claw starting to gather into a crescent formation. They come and there was more than expected. Good - they came prepared.
"No Life Protocol. Activated."
The combat servitors came alive.
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