Devastation of Baal misc

• Devatation of Baal:

"The nature of the tyranids made it impossible to say which part of this gestalt biomechanism possessed the guiding mind. Was it the sensor beast, mounted upon the blunt nose, that perceived the Space Marine ship and originated the nerve pulses that dictated the pod’s action? Or was the Splendid Pinion spied by the eyes of the pod itself, and was it then the pod’s rudimentary brain, housed at the rear, that directed it? Or were these elements of the colony subsidiary to the mind of the infiltration beast carried within, that slumbered and yet looked out upon the void through the linked brains of its outer casing? They were all ultimately part of the greater whole of the hive, so which was the driving sentience? The classifications used by the Imperium to define levels of consciousness among the swarm’s parts were crude. They lacked subtlety. Perhaps even at the height of its power, mankind could not have understood the tyranids.

The creature in the pod was autonomous in every way, except when it was not. It was natively cunning, an individual in its own right, but not a thing of will unless it was needed to be. Contradictions to the human mind, but not to the hive.

Moist sensor pits as sophisticated as any Imperial augur scried the Splendid Pinion. A calculating mind observed the ship in multiple spectra, and judged it a worthwhile target. In truth it was all the subcreatures together – the pod, its subsystem beasts and the cargo it carried – that made the decision to vent a portion of the pod’s meagre stocks of propellant. Gas puffed from orifices along the pod’s flank, sending it spinning along a random-seeming trajectory resembling the tumble of harmless debris. Chromatic cells on the surface flickered to match the colour of the Red Scar void. Counter-augur creatures encysted in the pod’s skin digested themselves, their electromagnetic screams sending out a cloud of obfuscating radiation on all frequencies. Silently, stealthily, the pod moved towards the Splendid Pinion, tracking the metal ship as it pulled away from the debris cloud and made its way to safe translation distance.

The pod’s journey was a one-time chance, but it was one of millions. It was disposable, as all creatures in the hive fleets were. The mere act of fulfilling its purpose guaranteed its death. The component animals of the vessel did not care for themselves. Though several were capable of doing so, having been derived from sentient gene stock, their potential for self-preservation was suppressed psychically and chemically. They were mind-slaved, devoted to the Great Devourer in the same way a man’s fingernail is devoted to his hand.

Gunfire strobed the void as anti-missile batteries locked onto pieces of shell and muscle spinning through the void, atomising them in bright bursts of radiant particles. The pod corrected its course, moving away from the thicker clusters of wreckage, taking care not to move at all like the smattering of tyranid torpedo spines streaking directly towards the prey ship. Invisible behind its baffles, the pod sailed unharmed through soundless explosions.

A separate, distended brain-creature housed in a cyst deep in the pod’s bony armour calculated the precise speed needed to penetrate the ship’s void shields. Too fast, and the pod would trigger the displacement response in the energy field, and be sent into the warp where it would be annihilated. Too slow, and the pod would be outpaced by its prey. More precious propellant gases were expended. The pod slowed. Its path became more certain, a parabola that brought it up and under the vessel towards the crags of the ship’s keel towers.

A soapy ripple on the skin of space marked the pod’s position as it punched through the void shield. This was the point of highest danger. The vigilant machine-spirits of the vessel might note the anomaly. Now the pod’s camouflage was a liability. Not seeing what caused the disturbance in the field, the machines could alert the prey within their dead metal ship. Detection, if it occurred, could not be helped. Countless infiltration organisms had died performing the exact same manoeuvre, and countless more would. The hive fleet shed them like a human sheds skin cells. Successful infiltration was a matter of probability. It only took one to make it through.

The pod hurtled towards the Splendid Pinion unseen as the ship accelerated away from the growing debris field. A desperate venting had the pod match speed with its target. With a final eructation from the rear sphincters it came within grasping distance.

Bony plates blew from around the prow. Flailing tentacles burst from the cavities revealed, their broad, suckered ends slapping onto metal eroded by long exposure to the void. Contact was made. The pod hauled itself onto the hull, its arrival so gentle there was not the slightest impact tremor. Once attached, the pod extruded a gummy foot and hauled itself along the plasteel in search of a crevice to hide within. It found one soon enough, slipping into a space between a turret base and the podium of an angelic statue made faceless by centuries of micro-meteor impacts. Once ensconced, it jettisoned tentacles blackened by exposure to hard vacuum, and withdrew its pseudopod into the safety of its shell. Sticky resins leaked from pores all along the pod’s length, bonding its chitin fast to the ship. By the time the Splendid Pinion’s void shields dropped and were replaced by the eye-aching sheen of Geller fields, the pod was secure. The Splendid Pinion’s warp engines tore open the universal veil separating the void from the empyrean, and plunged into the maddening psychic currents on the other side. As the Splendid Pinion cleaved the warp towards Zozan the occupant stirred, perfectly safe in the pod. Hormones and stimulant chemicals gushed into its body, bringing it to a higher level of wakefulness. The lictor prepared for its mission"