The tentacles jerked for an instant as the troopers poured fire into the hatch before a gray, shapeless creature flung itself to the ground almost faster than the eye could see and vanished. The Psyker wasn’t dead. And it was wounded.
“Form up!” screamed Marten. The only hope for the mission, and the survival of any of them, was to move fast. The free Psyker might find other targets if they were gone.
Moving low, the troopers covered ground fast. All but one were comforted that their ultrasonics were making them indistinct shadows to the senses of the Psykers. A chopped-off scream announced that Blanders just paid the ultimate price for the loss of his gear.
“Freeze,” whispered Marten into his comm. He stared at his readouts, waiting for crouching movement to betray the Psyker. There! No. THERE ! “Open fire!”
Brilliant needles flickered and held on the writhing shape as it twisted and leapt one way, then another. The massed lasers finally killed it.
Shaking and sweating, Marten ordered, “Forward!”