Titanicus (Sabbat Worlds #3)

by Dan Abnett

Then the shields started to sing. ‘What the cog is that?’ Fairika started, unnerved. ‘The voids are scouring heavy, famulous,’ said Kalder. ‘What does that mean?’ she snapped back. During the walk out from the finishing silos, Tarses had realised that Famulous Fairika didn’t like it when the veteran crewmen used engine slang, as if she supposed she was being excluded from some engineman’s club by dint of her gender and youth. ‘It means we’re in a dry, high-static environment,’ said Tarses. ‘It charges dust on the shield auras and makes them squeal.’ The noise was indeed dismaying. It sounded as if numberless lost souls were clinging like limpets to their engine frame and bemoaning their plight, while their cold, numb fingernails furtively scratched at the hull to get in. ‘Always a bad portent when the voids sing so, isn’t that right, moderati?’ murmured Kalder ominously, winking at Tarses. ‘Stop it,’ said Tarses. Kalder grinned and shrugged. Goading Fairika was too easy a game.