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afire, turning them into a rain of ashen fallout.
    Typhon's harsh growl sounded on the general vox channel. 'If this is all we have to face, I question if our might will even be tested today!'
    'My father sent me here.' Mortarion's words were mild, but heavy with intent. 'Do you think him wrong to do so, first captain?'
    Another man might have baulked at the veiled threat, but not Typhon. 'I only chafe at such poor sport, lord commander. We dally here too long, sir.'
    Garro caught a grunt of agreement. 'Perhaps we do, my friend.' When he spoke again, the primarch did it aloud, eschewing the vox to broadcast his voice. 'Sons of Death! You know your objectives! Take your units and prosecute the foe! Typhon, with me; Gralgor, the drives; Garro, the hatchery. Go now!'
    The elements of the Seventh Company came to him and the battle-captain was pleased to see that there had been few losses among them. The Apothecary, Voyen, looked him up and down, silently commenting on the state of his helmet where the headgear hung from his belt. Decius too was unhooded and his pale face was split with a murderous grin. The staining of viscera on his power fist was mute testament to his kills so far.
    He nodded to them, and the men of the Seventh took up their formation. They moved, letting Grulgor’s company mop up the last of the airborne jorgall. They crossed out from the crystalline dunes at a quick pace, and into groves of tall tree-like forms woven from some kind of rough fibre.
    Sendek ministered to his auspex. Tactical plot shows heat sources comparable to jorgall hatchery constructs in this direction.' He pointed. 'That way The virtual compass is having difficulty assimilating the internal structure of the bottle-world.'
    'How current is that data?' asked Hakur. 'The sense-servitors neglected to tell us we were landing in a chem-lake. I find myself wondering what else they may have missed.'
    Sendek frowned. 'The readings are... contradictory.'
    'Best we be ready for surprises, then,' noted Rahl, hefting the combi-bolter in his grip.
    'Do not allow yourself to be lulled into complacency by the name of your target, captain.' Mortarion had spoken the words without looking at him, as Garro stared into the hololith in Endurance's assembly hall. This so-called hatchery is not only the crèche for the jorgalli young, but also a place of modification. You will probably find eggs filled with armed adults as well as their larvae.'
    Garro recalled the primarch's words as he looked up at the towering fibrous trees. Further into the 'forest' where the stalks were planted in dense, regular rows, the tree-things were heavy with great grey orbs that hung like monstrous fruits. Some showed signs of motion inside, things shifting about in lazy thrashes. Here and there were pools of watery fluid that Sendek immediately designated as 'yolk'. Voyen agreed with the description, pointing out dripping orbs up above that hung ragged, formless and clearly empty. 'The roots of the trees drink the liquid back in to the system,' noted Sendek. 'Quite efficient.'
    Tm rapt with fascination,' Rahl said, in a tone that indicated the reverse.
    Decius kept his bolter close. 'Where are the defences? Do these xenos care so little about their spawn that they leave them open to any predator that happens by?'
    'Perhaps their children are the predators,' offered Hakur darkly.
    One of the men from the veterans' squad halted and gestured ahead. 'Captain,' he asked, 'do you see this?'
    'What is it?' asked Garro.
    The Astartes bent and gathered up a shiny metallic object, roughly oval in shape. He turned it over in his hands. 'It's... sir, It's a helm, I think.' He held it up to show them, and Garro's blood chilled at the sight of a Silent Sister's wargear. Something shifted inside it and a severed head dropped from the helmet to the ground, trailing a plume of blonde hair.
    'Clean cut,' noted the Astartes. Very fresh.'
    Voyen's eyes narrowed. Where's the... the rest of