"This is it! We're here!"
Ninutal's voice thundered through his external speakers, drowning out the howls of the pursuers closing in behind them and the whistling of bolts.
His heavy footsteps stopped abruptly, and the massive Dreadnought turned sideways to clear their view.
The space ahead suddenly opened up. They burst out of the narrow passages of the Labyrinth into a vast, relatively open area.
A hangar.
An enormous, battle-scarred hangar.
Emergency lighting cast a deathly white glow from overhead, illuminating scattered maintenance equipment, the wreckage of several destroyed gunships, and, beyond the distant hangar doors, the boundless, cold Void flickering with weapons fire.
The air reeked of scorched ion trails, mingled with lubricating oil and blood.
And near the passage they had emerged from stood two Transport Craft that appeared to have just undergone basic maintenance, their hatches not yet fully closed!
They bore the sand-yellow colours of the Second Legion, but to the Word Bearers, they were now the most beautiful promise of escape.
"Quick! Get aboard the transport! The one on the left! Move!"
Saolis's roar rang out over the squad-wide channel. Even as he gave the order, he turned sideways and pulled the trigger of his bolter, its muzzle almost pressed against the helmet of a rebel warrior who had just rushed out of a side passage to intercept them.
Bang!
The Helmet and the head inside exploded. The headless corpse swayed, then collapsed.
Without so much as a glance, Saolis tightened his arm around the warrior with the severed leg slung over his shoulder. He broke into long strides, racing toward the nearest Transport Craft's open rear ramp with the superhuman speed of an Astartes.
His grey-white power armour left a blur in the dim hangar.
"Move! Move! Move!"
The Word Bearers surged toward the