breaks bulkhead

Amadeus looked up from his work, staring at us through the smoke. He didn’t answer her. He just started running. The decking quivered beneath his heavy tread as he powered towards us. Something so huge had no right to move that fast.
I realised a moment before Tyberia. I was in cover, behind a bulkhead, when the bolts started crashing around us. She hurled herself at my side, crouching behind the dense steel door I was using as a shield.
‘It’s not–’
‘I know, I know.’ I clutched my Engager to my chest and glanced at Tyberia. The ceramite bootfalls pounded closer, carnosaur-loud. My heart was thudding just as fast. A hundred dead heretics and cultists to my name, yet I was trembling like a newborn in winter. Death hammered its way down the corridor towards us.
‘We take him together,’ I said, sounding far surer than I felt.
‘What do we–’
The door exploded against us. My miscalculation almost killed us both, as the Adeptus Astartes warrior chose not to take cover; he chose to break through ours with a bull-rush charge. The bulkhead was ripped from its hinges, crashing to the deck. Tyberia and I were thrown across the gantry floor in clatters of carapace armour. I could hear him over the cacophony, the predatory snarling of his armour joints, the sickly, atomic keening of his power pack: behind me, above me, close, so close.
I moved faster then, than ever before or ever since. I rolled to my back, bringing my Engager up towards the towering shadow, firing at point-blank range. I had one split second of vindication: that Engagers were Space Marine-killers; that he was close enough to hit; that no matter my fear, he couldn’t survive a blast like this.
The shotgun roared in my hands.

Spear of the Emperor