"Yes, sir!" Almagor stepped up beside Macharius, sword held ready. The weapon crackled with energy, snow hissing into vapour as it struck the blade. The xenos seemed undaunted facing down two opponents with power swords, shifting back and forth on its feet and trying to find a hole in Macharius' defenses. It leaped back to avoid a thrust from the Rogue Trader, then darted forwards, sensing an opening, but it hadn't counted on the Praetorian. Almagor caught it with a backhand cut, energy from the sword ripping into its flesh. The creature burst into flame, dropping to its knees in the snow and wailing. Macharius swung his own sword in a wide arc, striking its head from its body. The horrible thing crashed to the ground and Almagor stepped lightly over the body to join Murphy. The other Praetorian was faring poorly, unable to land a strike despite help from both Hannabel and Magos Ravia. Hannabel's falchion flashed, blocking one strike from her opponent. It swept the blade aside, stepping in and raking the Sting's Master of Gunnery with razor-sharp claws. Murphy shouldered Hannabel out of the way, taking a second blow that would have eviscerated her. Grunting in pain, the Praetorian brought his autogun up in a defensive posture...

Anika's bolter sang, and Felidae's sang with it. Muzzle flash burned through the blizzard, each shot sending light dancing across the ice. The three aliens who had fired at them vanished in a shower of blood and viscera, explosive shells taking them apart. The marines were fighting hard, but still falling, their enemies too numerous to, their weapons limited by the need to reload...

Hannabel struck again, the falchion deflected by a swipe from the alien's claws. Murphy swung his autogun like a club, the heavy barrel narrowly missing the xenos as it jumped back, and onto the point of Almagor's borrowed sword. The Praetorian ran it through, the tip of the blade protruding from its chest. It hissed and spat as it died, trying to reach behind it to attack the man who had killed it. Almagor lowered the blade, and kicked the corpse to the ground. "Orders, sir?"

Behind him, the Marines were finally managing to push back. They had retreated into the shuttle fully, the narrow opening funneling their enemies towards them. The combination of bolter fire and shotgun blasts was beginning to tell, the horde of enemies thinning considerably. One good push looked like it might break them, but one good push in the other direction might finish off the marines...