These cognate planetary systems have suffered brutal Tyranid incursions over the millennia, from space hulks, hive fleet splinters and most recently, the Xenos Biologis affair.

With swathes of engineered and evolved Tyranids embedded within the systems, the Vonserius region was a psychic beacon for any future tyrannic invasion. A significant fleet had been permanently patrolling the region for just this scenario, but had been stolen away by the Imperium to bolster Solblades for neighbouring, albeit distant, systems, and for reinforcing defences of Segmentum Solar.

The Matriarchy did what it could to form Solblades to defence the region, in alliance with their Sisters in fleet command and those that bare the family trade license that were within reach of home.

Forward observation monitored a small fragment being spawned from Hive Fleet Leviathan. The call of the native Tyranid infestation great enough for the hive fleet to send an invasion party to the Vonsirius region.

Among the monstrous forms that splintered from the hive fleet, the fleet birthed new Tyranid forms for the invasion. Each was coloured, not as the hive fleet, but as the highly evolved monsters that infest the Vonsirius region.

The Huntress of Volatum, a Rogue Trader capital vessel, joined by a mixed fleet of appropriated retired imperial cruisers and allied Xenos ships, made first contact with the splinter cell. This spear tip of the Alpha Solblade identified one of the newly formed Tyranids spawned. It was adapted for close quarters incursions, baring giant scything feeding claws that dwarfed many of the ships in the Solblade. Nestled between the two claws, was a mouth that would unleash horrors that no Captain would be prepared for.

It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet a few minutes before the silence descended, the air had been thick with inhuman screams, screeches and gargling cries; and death.

And then pure silence. The beasts had either shrank into the cover of the toxic forest, or had ambled off looking for fresh meat.

We were close to the nest by now. The losses in getting this far had been incomprehensible. I’d lost so many of my men. Most were fresh recruits, plucked from the youth of the neighbouring hive worlds. But the deepest pain, were those of my storm troopers that I’d fought alongside with for nearly a decade.

Wrenched apart, devoured and eviscerated; no trooper, fresh nor long in the tooth, deserved such a way to end.

The silence was broken by the sound of wet gargling screeching. Unlike the first cry of a newborn human, the first cries of a newborn Tyranid perforated the silence with stomach churning effect. A writhing sound of pain, hunger, and evil, bellowing and booming through the open.

And then, a cacophony of wet snapping, echoing through the silence. The sounds of fresh born chitin sliding over chitin, as a new beast arose from its amniotic fluids, stretching newly formed limbs for the first time, whilst ligaments and tissues snapped noisily into place around their soft fresh joints.

As the noises reached a crescendo, I heard a handful of las shots peppering the organic choruses of chitin and birthing cries.

The air was unfathomably dank and murky - visibility was bordering on nonexistent - a likely byproduct of being so close to the monsters’ nest and whatever the newly Xenos formed toxic plant life was pumping out, a far contrast to the dry and ashen hell hole this moon was supposed to be.

Other than inviting more company, engaging anything that wasn’t attempting to rip your limbs off was futile. Any cracks of las shot wouldn’t be aimed toward the new born beast, or indeed any beast at all. I couldn’t blame those troopers. Many were just damn kids. They’d had no preparation for the monstrous sights nor noises that they’d been facing for weeks. Our Commissar - may the Emperor be with him - Marsak was a good friend and a good man, and had served these kids with dedication. But with his loss days before we embarked on this mission, morale had slipped into to a bottomless void of despair.

I kept my eyes closed for another few seconds. Dug in behind a rocky outcrop with two of my remaining storm troopers - and likely the last men standing - we waited in hope that the new born would hunt fresh prey for its maiden meal elsewhere. We didn’t have the time nor resources to take on anything more than a lonely Genestealer or two. We barely had the energy left to do that.

I opened my eyes. I realised my arms were tightly embracing my chest, my hands gripping both las pistols like they’d do me any good. I’d lost my chain sword some time back, escaping for my life. In panic, I had scrabbled desperately over the chitin of a beast I had felled, abandoning the chain sword I’d jammed into its shell, leaving it whirring away, spraying out rancid juices. A trooper - or one of my storm troopers, or just maybe the hand of the Emperor himself, had planted a las shot square into something indescribable pursuing me, itself scrabbling over the same felled beast but with that of a different desperation; that of hunger for its new found prey in the shape of me. I didn’t turn back. I still had a las pistol. I didn’t need the chain sword enough to garner another look at whatever that thing was.

Not long after, it had been Marsak’s time to take the long journey to the Emperor’s side. As I had cradled him, and began to mark him with the sign of the Aquila, he had pressed his las pistol into the palm of my hand. A relic of his family, the only remnant he had of them, beautifully inlaid with intricate filigree, I knew then that this conflict was going to be the end of us both.

I blinked my eyes, as I began to feel the tears welling up. I stretched my neck, flared my nostrils, and focused on the blur that was Roan, he himself gripping tightly on his own panacea. He had nurtured that box every step from the compound to the rocky outcrop we were sheltered behind now. Twiddling its controls, checking its wiring and caressing the gel packs of explosive compound, with a mindful dedication. The remote switch had been lost along the journey, but Roan had made no mention of it. I knew from the looks he’d given me, that he was following the mission all the way to its conclusion, remote switch or not.

The General hadn’t questioned my firm request to take command of the mission. Ordinarily, I would send a trusted subordinate in lead. But he could see it in my eyes. With Marsak’s death, I felt the strings of my own life unravelling. There was little more here to do, other than to save as many of those around me I’d served with, as I took an honourable journey to join Marsak at the Emperor’s side.

I was startled as Vorn put a hand on my shoulder. As he shuffled into view, even with his full face mask, I could see a resignation to our shared fates in his movements. He signed a question. I nodded, and signed back. The noise of the new born had settled to a background visceral merge of calls and cries, it didn’t seem like it was going anywhere in a hurry, and we were on the clock. I signed to Roan, he gave a sharp nod back and signed an affirmative. We would have to take on the new born just long enough for Roan to complete our mission.

I shifted carefully onto to my feet, mindful to keep cover behind the edge of the outcrop. We were perhaps seventy five to one hundred metres from the nest now, if even that. The acrid smell and smog was choking - our respirators struggled to filter the bulk of the sinister fog. I counted down. 5. 4. I held my arm out side ways, and counted down with my fingers. 3. 2. 1.

We ran in near silence, with only the gentle crunch of grit underfoot betraying our stealth. As we got closer, the warmth of the nest was greater, and the smog was thicker. Roan was behind us, and Vorn was ahead to my right. His footsteps stopped abruptly. As I glanced toward him, I could see the smog was thinning where he stood. His body was shaking. I looked back around, and through the fog thinning ahead of me, began to catch glimpse of the gaping infected wound in the earth. I stopped as I myself saw what had paralysed Vorn in his tracks. I felt tears pour down my face, as I began shaking uncontrollably. My mind struggled to process what I could see, and what I should do. I heard las shots ring out and a guttural scream, as Vorn did all his mind would let him. I gurgled incomprehensible noises, as I shakily pointed both las pistols in the vague direction of the new born and steadily depleted their power packs.

I saw Roan push past, running panic stricken toward the gaping chasm of the nest, clutching the box to his chest, screaming equally incoherently.

As my last round discharged, I helplessly threw my pistols in the general direction of the beast whilst screaming “Bastard”, the only word my mind could find to articulate what I was feeling. I heard Vorn scream something equally futile and incoherent, as he began running toward the beast, dropping his own depleted weapon, as he grasped for his combat knife.

As Roan got closer to the maw of the chasm, a chitin clad new born limb of staggeringly epic proportions flicked him away like the inconsequential beings we were to it. It stalked forward on its stilt like limbs, its screams and screeches cutting through me and rendering me ineffectual. The towering mass of the monster, all but blotting out the light above us, reared up on its four hind limbs, snapping its head back to unveil flower like

I began to hear an electronic whine. A noise building, so stark in contrast to the organic noises that enveloped us, the pitch and frequency increasing rapidly. It felt human. It felt safe. It felt like our redemption.

Then a click.

For a moment, there was silence, and a light so bright, and a heat so warm. I was running through a field of shimmering teal bayton grass, it’s perfume intoxicating, as two suns shone through a clear blue sky. I looked down and felt a hand in my hand. I turned to see Marsak smiling back at me. I was home.