Sindermann stumbled backwards in total panic. Loken ran forward and tried to restrain the reanimating madman.

Jubal struck out with one thrashing fist and caught Loken in the chest. Loken flew backwards into the pool with a crash of water.

Jubal turned, hunched. Saliva dangled from his slack mouth, and his bloodshot eyes spun like compasses at true north.

'Please, oh please...' Sindermann gabbled, backing away.

'Look. Out.’ The words crawled sluggishly out of Jubal's drooling mouth. He lumbered forward. Something was happening to him, something malign and catastrophic. He was bulging, expanding so furiously that his armour began to crack and shatter. Sections of broken plate split and fell away from him, exposing thick arms swollen with gangrene and fibrous growths. His taut flesh was pallid and blue. His face was distorted, puffy and livid, and his tongue flopped out of his rotting mouth, long and serpentine.

He raised his meaty, distended hands triumphantly, exposing fingernails grown into dark hooks and psoriatic claws.

'Samus is here.’ he drawled.

Sindermann fell on his knees before the misshapen brute. Jubal reeked of corruption and sore wounds. He shambled forward. His form flickered and danced with blurry yellow light, as if he was not quite in phase with the present.

A bolter round struck him in the right shoulder and detonated against the rindy integument his skin had

become. Shreds of meat and gobbets of pus sprayed in all directions. In the chamber doorway, Nero Vipus took aim again.

The thing that had once been Xavyer Jubal grabbed Sindermann and threw him at Vipus. The pair of them crashed backwards against the wall, Vipus dropping his weapon in an effort to catch and cushion Sindermann and spare the frail bones of the elderly iterator.

The Jubal-thing shuffled past them into the tunnel, leaving a noxious trail of dripped blood and wretched, discoloured fluid in its wake.

EUPHRATI SAW THE thing coming for them and tried to decide whether to scream or raise her picter. In the end, she did both. Van Krasten lost control of his bodily functions, and fell to the floor in a puddle of his own manufacture. Borodin Flora just backed away, his mouth moving silently.

The Jubal-thing advanced down the tunnel towards them. It was gross and distorted, its skin stretched by humps and swellings. It had become so gigantic that what little remained of its pearl-white armour dragged behind it like metal rags. Strange puncta and moles marked its flesh. Jubal's face had contorted into a dog snout, wherein his human teeth stuck out like stray ivory markers, displaced by the thin, transparent crop of needle fangs that now invested his mouth. There were so many fangs that his mouth could no longer close. His eyes were blood pools. Jerky, spasmodic flashes of yellow light surrounded him, making vague shapes and patterns. They caused Jubal's movements to seem wrong, as if he was a pict feed image, badly cut and running slightly too fast.

He snatched up Tolemew Van Krasten and dashed him like a toy against the walls of the tunnel, back and forth, with huge, slamming, splattering effect, so that

when he let go, little of Tolemew still existed above the sternum.

'Oh Terra!' Keeler cried, retching violently. Borodin Flora stepped past her to confront the monster, and made the defiant sign of the aquila.

'Begone!' he cried out. 'Begone!'

The Jubal-thing leaned forward, opened its mouth to a hitherto unimaginable width, revealing an unguess-able number of needle teeth, and bit off Borodin Flora's head and upper body. The remainder of his form crumpled to the floor, ejecting blood like a pressure hose.

Euphrati Keeler sank to her knees. Terror had rendered her powerless to run. She accepted her fate, largely because she had no idea what it was to be. In the final moments of her life, she reassured herself that at least she hadn't added to brutal death the indignity of wetting herself in the face of such incomprehensible horror.

The Warmaster and his son

No matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe

Official denial

'YOU KILLED IT?'

Yes,' said Loken, gazing at the dirt floor, his mind somewhere else. You're sure?'

Loken looked up out of his reverie. What?' 'I need you to be sure.’ Abaddon said. You killed it?' Yes.’ Loken was sitting on a crude hardwood stool in one of the longhouses in Kasheri. Night had fallen outside, bringing with it a keening, malevolent wind that shrieked around the gorge and the Whisperhead peaks. A dozen oil lamps lit the place with a feeble ochre glow. We killed it. Nero and I together, with our bolters. It took ninety rounds at full auto. It burst and burned, and we used a flamer to cremate all that remained.’ Abaddon nodded. 'How many people know?' 'About that last act? Myself, Nero, Sindermann and the remembrancer, Keeler. We cut the thing down just before it bit her in half. Everyone else who saw it is dead.’

'What have you said?'

'Nothing, Ezekyle.'

That's good.'

'I've said nodiing because I don't know what to say.'

Abaddon scooped up anodier stool and brought it over to sit down facing Loken. Both were in full plate, their helms removed. Abaddon hunched his head low to catch Loken's eyes.

'I'm proud of you, Garviel. You hear me? You dealt with this well.'

'What did I deal with?' Loken asked sombrely.

'The situation. Tell me, before fubal rose again, who knew of the murders?'

'More. Those of Brakespur that survived. All of my officers. I wanted their advice.'

'I'll speak to them.’ Abaddon muttered. 'This mustn't get out. Our line will be as you set it. Victory, splendid but unexceptional. The Tenth crashed the insurgents, though losses were taken in two squads. But that is war. We expect casualties. The insurgents fought bitterly and formidably to the last. Hellebore and Brakespur bore the brant of their rage, but Sixty-Three Nineteen is advanced to full compliance. Glory the Tenth, and the Luna Wolves, glory the Warmaster. The rest will remain a matter of confidence within the inner circle. Can Sin-dermann be trusted to keep this close?'

'Of course, though he is very shaken.'

'And the remembrancer? Keener, was it?'

'Keeler. Euphrati Keeler. She's in shock. I don't know her. I don't know what she'll do, but she has no idea what it was that attacked her. I told her it was a wild beast. She didn't see Jubal... change. She doesn't know it was him.'

'Well, that's something. I'll place an injunction on her, if necessary. Perhaps a word will be sufficient. I'll repeat the wild beast story, and tell her we're keeping

the matter confidential for morale's sake. The remembrancers must be kept away from this.’

Two of them died.’

Abaddon got up. A tragic mishap during deployment. A landing accident. They knew the risks they were taking. It will be just a footnote blemish to an otherwise exemplary undertaking.’

Loken looked up at the first captain. 'Are we trying to forget this even happened, Ezekyle? For I cannot. And I will not.’

'I'm saying this is a military incident and will remain restricted. It's a matter of security and morale, Garviel. You are disturbed, I can see that plainly. Think what needless trauma this would cause if it got out. It would rain confidence, break the spirit of the expedition, tarnish the entire crusade, not to mention the unimpeachable reputation of the Legion.’

The longhouse door banged open and the gale squealed in for a moment before the door closed again. Loken didn't look up. He was expecting Vipus back at any time with the muster reports.

'Leave us, Ezekyle.’ a voice said.

It wasn't Vipus.

Horns was not wearing his armour. He was dressed in simple foul-weather clothes, a mail shirt and a cloak of furs. Abaddon bowed his head and quickly left the longhouse.