Shas'O Tyrnax watched the combat recording for the fourth time. His initial feelings of anger and frustration had faded to professional detatchment, as he once again studied the way the Tyranids had decimated his force.
So close. A tiny, almost insignificant moment, when the course of battle was decided beyond redemption.
The Broadside's sheild drone had been orbiting as usual, but when the XV88 had moved, the drone hadn't quite caught up. This moment, perhaps a mere fraction of an inch, had resulted in the battlesuit becoming involved in melee combat, denying it the opportunity to bring its railguns and missiles to bear one more time and thus disposing of the Brood Lord once and for all. This had freed attendent Genestealers to hunt down the remaining Stealth-suited troops.
So small, such a tiny distinction, between success and failure. No more.
He smiled; a grim, cold, mirthless smile. Reinforcements were due soon.
Then the removal of the Tyranid threat will begin in earnest... And any who stand in the way of the Greater Good.