Calling in an airdrop proved very useful. On the seventh day of Hogg's dream, his head finally arrived at the right point in time and, under Rogal Dorn's guidance, crashed squarely onto the outer deck of the Wraith.
Magnus, who was presiding over the formation, had something to say about the situation too. For a beacon guiding something across such a vast distance, a slight deviation in position was already pretty damn good. What was there to complain about?
Magnus had a point. The past seven days had nearly worked him to death. Hogg only had to lie there and sleep, while Magnus had to think about a lot more: he had to keep releasing psychic energy to guide the signal and calculate the transmission error.
After testing it firsthand, it was clear that the Dog-man Empire's manufacturing was better than the Imperium of Man's. Hogg hadn't punched through the armor; he'd embedded himself right into the deck. It took him ages to pull himself out of the metal.
The moment they met, the Ogryn Hogg-ge burst out laughing. Compared to him, transformed into an Ogryn, Hogg's head had become a little swamp dog. No wonder it had been so hard to wriggle free: its whole snout had been stuck in the deck. How could it possibly get out?
Counting from the day they were cut apart, Hogg had been separated for a full thirty years. Looking at the backside and head that had once shared a body, the two Hoggs were overcome with emotion.
"Good brother!"
"Good brother!"
They didn't bother with much more small talk. Their memories would be shared after they fused anyway. In any case, neither of them wanted to work anymore. They had to get their original body put back together so he could take