The fires had begun to cause pockets of moisture in the walls of the hive to expand and explode outwards, covering the kommandos in a rancid goo. Eventually, the sound of rotor blades could be heard, and the dim sunlight shining through the hole in the ceiling was blotted out by the shadow of the warkopta.
Presently, a thick rope was lowered into the dome where it hang, swaying slightly.
“Let’s get outta here boyz! Mount up!” ordered Sarge, unbuckling his belt and securing it through a metal hoop attached to the rope.
Before doing the same, Boomboy shook off his backpack and held it in one hand. Once the surviving boyz were ready, Sarge tugged sharply on the rope. As the orks rose into the air, Sarge grinned and made a rude gesture at the Norn Queen as it screamed and strained at the kommandos in rage.
Once outside, Sarge stared goggle-eyed at the scene below him. The Norn Queen had drawn in an immense swarm with which to protect itself, and the orks were subject to the ferocious glowers of several hundred lesser tyranids as the warkopta gained altitude.
Boomboy was the last to leave the dome, and before doing so he let his backpack fall into the growing fires below.
There was a pause, followed by a blinding flash of light and a rippling shockwave as the dome of the hive fell inwards. The pattern of the swarm’s movement, which before now had been so full of malicious intent, instantly dissolved into the confused meanderings of simple animals. Boomboy grinned as he was winched up into the bay of the warkopta.
At once, Spekkit’s skwakbox crackled into life, and the kommandos heard the following message:
“...casting on all frequencies. The Xenos are retreating! Praise the Emperor! All units do not pursue, do not pursue to all units. Spend this time wisely in the fortification of defences, for this is unlikely to be the end on conflict. This is bunker XII brodcas...”