The captured little gunboat pulled off an Armstrong spinning kick-to-Mur's-lame-leg grand-circuit pilgrimage-kowtow pirouette in the cramped Webway, then sailed off over Yvraine's head.
Its bizarre, unpredictable movements left the Aeldari gunners utterly baffled. They had no way of predicting where it would fly next.
The little gunboat swerved wildly through the passage. Some daemons attempting to board it missed entirely, while others chanting sorcery in the distance took a direct hit instead.
The captain's parallel thought processes were frantically "learning the controls," but his mouth never stopped. "Borzhigede! Get outside and cut down the daemons ahead!"
One warrior charged out, thoroughly excited. The White Scars Sons were brimming with fighting spirit.
The mag-locks had little effect on the wraithbone outer deck. He wedged himself against the gun turret, then swung his blade while enduring the terrifying acceleration.
This was even crazier than racing fighters through space. He swung his Power Claymore twice, then discovered that his face was getting closer and closer to the ground...
His adamantium helmet scraped along the ground for dozens of meters, apparently crushing a disgusting lump of Chaos Spawn along the way. Then the gunboat shot straight up and veered into a main Webway passage.
The warrior had just wiped the blood off his face when he discovered that there were no enemies around him anymore. Daemons were scattered along the sides. A few flying daemons spotted them and began charging, only to climb sharply and retreat as soon as they drew near.
The poor White Scars Son clung to a mounting post with one hand and thrust his Power Claymore outward with the other, but he simply could not reach the distant daemons.
"Captain, get closer! I can't hit them!" the warrior shouted anxiously. When the captain did not answer, he instinctively looked back.