"It's bad, Captain! A massive swarm of Genestealers has emerged on the lower decks!"
"A Broodlord is leading a horde of mutants in a charge!"
"Those damn xenos are trying to seize control amidst the chaos!"
"Genestealers? They must have been lurking aboard the Song of Farewell for a long time!" Otto screamed, his voice cracking with terror.
"What in the name of the Throne is going on?! The Drukhari, the Great Enemy of Chaos, and now even the lackeys of the Tyranids have arrived?"
Isud was no longer capable of feeling anger or fear; she only felt that the situation was absurd—utterly, hopelessly absurd. Her wealth, her ambition, and this meticulously planned voyage to Brevis now felt like a cruel cosmic joke.
Kerry's eyes were vacant as he muttered to himself, "It's over... all over. Emperor preserve us..."
The brutal slaughter by the Drukhari, the sinister laughter of Tzeentchian horrors, the furious roars of the Ogryns, the chittering screams of the Genestealers, and the desperate struggle of the human crew—the entire Song of Farewell had descended into total madness.
While everyone's attention was occupied by the brutal internal fighting and the ship was in total disarray, a strangely shaped vessel approached.
It was a "wandering merchant ship" covered in writhing flesh and chitinous plating, drifting silently toward the chaotic Pilgrim-class transport. This was the Purple Crystal—or at least, what remained of it after its biological transformation.
On the bridge—if one could call a chamber filled with pulsing organic vessels and neural ganglia a bridge—Raynor stood before the observation window. A smile of predatory excitement curved his lips. His eyes reflected the distant, flashing sparks of explosions tearing through the transport ship's hull.
"It's really lively over there," Raynor remarked. "It seems this ship is indeed a treasure trove."
At this moment, Raynor didn't know the full extent of the chaos aboard the Song of Farewell, but he was certain there were plenty of "materials" to harvest. He gently stroked Sarah, who was almost completely pressed against him. Her enormous, transformed body occupied the entire command seat, her purplish-red hull shimmering with bioluminescence. Her compound eyes gleamed with a hungry, red light.
"Is everything ready?" Raynor asked.
Sarah let out a short, low hiss—a mental affirmation that resonated directly in his mind. She had already locked onto every heat signature and psychic ripple using the sensory organs scattered across the Purple Crystal.
"Very good." Raynor took a deep breath, his eyes filled with ambition. "Activate all spore-sac launch chambers!"
"Targets: that transport ship and those pirate raiders!"
Raynor prepared to leave the bridge with Sarah to join the "grand party."
"Boarding action! Boarding action!"
Raynor's voice echoed through the biological bridge, carrying a long-suppressed fervor. He and Sarah had been bored during the long transit; now, they finally had some fun.
On the menacing hull of the Purple Crystal, dozens of tumor-like organs suddenly contracted and expanded. They ejected pulsating spore-sacs, brimming with restless life, like organic cannonballs.
These sacs traced bizarre arcs through the void. Some adhered directly to the outer shell of the Song of Farewell, while others insidiously latched onto the engines of the Drukhari Intruder craft that the pirates were using for their boarding operations.
At the same time, a civilian transport shuttle reinforced with heavy chitin was launched from the side of the Purple Crystal. Raynor and Sarah were inside. With purple bio-plasma thrusters erupting from its tail, the shuttle's speed increased rapidly.
Their target was an Intruder craft that had just deployed its Kabalite warriors and was preparing to pull back to ferry the next wave. The Drukhari pilot was still immersed in the thrill of the slaughter when the alarms inside his cabin shrieked.
On his monitors, a strange, armored flying object was hurtling straight toward his thruster nozzle!
"What in the Dark City is that?!" he yelled in terror, banking hard to dodge.
But it was too late.
"Take a look behind you," Raynor muttered with a grin.
The bio-shuttle Raynor occupied slammed into the tail of the Drukhari craft like a shark scenting blood. The fragile Eldar structure buckled and shattered under the violent impact.
At the moment of collision, the spore-sacs that had adhered to the targets ruptured simultaneously. A viscous, acidic solution gushed out like a waterfall, frantically eating through the hulls of both the transport ship and the pirate vessels.
The sac walls tore open, and countless ferocious figures crawled out from the acidic mist and mucus. Termagants roared, Hormagaunts brandished their bone-blades, Fleshborers hummed, and Rippers let out bloodthirsty screeches.
They had no complex tactics, only the purest, most primal desire to devour. Like a bursting purple tide, the swarm surged into every breach in the Song of Farewell, pouncing on every moving creature they could see.
This was exactly why Raynor had insisted on buying a merchant ship; he needed something large enough to house his growing chitinous army. Why fight a duel when you can bring an entire swarm to a knife fight?
Raynor leaped out of the damaged bio-shuttle and stepped onto the corroded, pitted armor of the Song of Farewell. Sarah perched "obediently" on his shoulder, her [Camouflage Armor] ability casting a protective shadow over him. It was a dual manifestation of her psychic mastery and absolute control over her form.
"Let's begin, darling." Raynor patted Sarah's cold armor and looked ahead at the passage filled with carnage.
Perched on his shoulder, Sarah emitted a terrifying psionic signal, asserting absolute control over the encroaching swarm.
Deep within the ship, the situation changed instantly.
The Tzeentchian sorcerer, engaged in a fierce battle with the Ogryns in the lower levels, suddenly felt a sharp pang in his psychic vision. He sensed a cold, greedy, and immense will entering the battlefield.
Near the main cargo hold, the Genestealer Patriarch—attempting to seize the ship amidst the chaos—also sensed the signal. He recognized the resonance of this unique "kin," yet felt the chilling dominance behind it.
Meanwhile, on the middle decks, the Drukhari first officer was enjoying a fresh kill when a terrified report came through his vox-link:
"Sir! A massive swarm of insects has appeared out of nowhere!"
"They don't distinguish between friend or foe! They're biting anyone they see!"
In that moment, the same thought popped into the minds of every faction leader active on the Song of Farewell:
"Damn it... are there other experts on this ship?"