Fighting With Faith-Eighteenth Entry

Plop.

That was the end of pilot Scregner, pilot of the freighter Retractable Rector for the past two decades which specialised in pulling in ships that were damaged or were low on fuel arriving into Hangkoi’s Southern Commercial spaceport.

His head was crudely discarded from his already limp and broken body with a simple flick of one of Elshilta’s razor sharp serrated limb, plopping onto the plasteel floor of his own ship with a sickening crunch as it hit the ground. His body followed after.

Two steps back, stood several cultists and mutants, watching on impassively; the fool deserved it.

“Fancy hiding in a ship which is the enemies’…” mused Elshilta out aloud, followed by the maniacal cackle of laughter of his minions.

He turned his back onto the corpse on the ground, already being ravenously devoured by savage Hormagaunts and strode obdurately towards the viewing windows of the transport freighter.

Beyond the plasteel windows, he witnessed what would make his blood boil; hundreds of troop transports, ferrying tens of thousands of recruits to the training camps located on the moons orbiting Homeworld Asat. Already a steady stream of the transports had already broken off from the main transport flotilla to dispatch their cargo to neighbouring moons.

Amongst all the flaring thrusters and decelerating brakes, the Retractable Rector powered on, a small speck of metal amongst a vast sea of ships. Initial identification and standard clarification orders were issued from the troop transports pilots, but the Grelion Slugs infesting the pilots were doing what they were supposed to do; mind control. Hence, no commotion was made out of the tow ship’s presence and the tow ship continued its uneventful journey through space, towards Homeworld Asat to spread the true and terrifying power of Hive Fleet Plethro, of the Tyranid race.

Amongst the fleet were other captured ships, all holding the traitors, murderous and fallen heretics of the Imperium, much like the ones in the Retractable Rector but heading to different destinations of planets and continents.

“Esteemed coadjutor, the Hive Fleet has dispatched a myceptic spore with a brood of Genestealers in its fostered orifice heading to our destination. We are advised to make full use of the Genestealers as much needed social security once planet bound.” A robed cultist whispered in a low rasp behind Elshilta and retreated into the gloom of the ship’s passenger hold.

Excellent…a much needed addendum into our new chapter by the Tyranids of the destruction of the Asat System, Thought Elshilta deviously.

“Attention, light space turbulence in-bound. Advised to brace for contact.” A Grelion Slug infested pilot said over the vox-speakers, his voice an emotionless, droning monotonous tone.

As the passenger hold was filled with the sound of stamping feet, claws and hooves of mutants, Tyranids and cultists getting into available seats and bracing positions, Elshilta was already deep in thought, his already mutated face contorting into a furrowed expression of intense brain storming. He stood in place, simply spreading his eight legs into a splayed formation, lowering his centre of gravity and continued thinking.

Still, from the view of other transports, the tow ship seemed like a normal space faring vessel, on its usual route of repairs and tow jobs. Still, the ships journeyed on, all to the same destination, but for so very different reasons.