He caught up, saw Orikan hesitate, cornered, then plunge into the only avenue open to him.
The mindshackle scarabs.
Trazyn took a different path.
He opened his eyes. It was strange to have flesh-and-blood eyes again, stranger still to get them when a genestealer was snapping at his throat.
Trazyn shoved the storm bolter under the genestealer’s chin and blasted its brains onto the ceiling. It was not just the eyes. There were thoughts, so many thoughts in Clara’s mind. Chief among them was survive, no surprise there, but just below that was to kill the necron.
Interesting.