Intro. The world around was trembling, as if the earth itself still remembered the cannonade of the recent battle. In the air there was a taste of iron and burning, and through smoke a dull light of the dead sun barely made his way. I came to my senses among the piles of bodies - Krygovsky raincoats and the chitin remains mixed in one mess. Each inhalation was given to pain, the gas mask filter hissed, like a snake. Fingers felt for the blade of the bayonet - everything that was left of the platoon. And then I felt the pressure-someone was sitting on me, light, but not human weight. I looked up - and met with my eyes. Not soulless faces of tyranid, no - they were different, alive, meaningful. She bowed in front of me - Neboroliker, from the new product of the hive. Her Hitin shimmered with mother of pearl, and fibers similar to her hair fell from under the bone crest. She watched me with cold curiosity as a scientist - after a caught individual. I realized: the swarm has changed. And now death looked at me with a female face.