Dead raiders lay scattered about the kitchen. They didn't matter to Kham. All he cared about was that orks lay dead. Far too many. Kham saw Komiko crouched protectively over her dead children, tears streaming down her face. But he knew she would not grieve for them long; her entrails lay spread and trampled on the floor beside her. Her killer had paid for his failure to kill her outright; he lay at her feet, his throat torn out.