ForAlexanderDembski-Bowden.AnM.41Auspexwouldhaveshownyouthat…

Itisthe41stmillennium.FormorethanahundredcenturiestheEmperorhassatimmobileontheGoldenThroneofEarth.Heisthemasterofmankindbythewillofthegods,andmasterofamillionworldsbythemightofhisinexhaustiblearmies.Heisarottingcarcasswrithinginvisiblywithpower

fromtheDarkAgeofTechnology.HeistheCarrionLordoftheImperiumforwhomathousandsoulsaresacrificedeveryday,sothathemaynevertrulydie.

Yeteveninhisdeathlessstate,theEmperorcontinueshiseternalvigilance.Mightybattlefleetscrossthedaemon-infestedmiasmaofthewarp,theonlyroutebetweendistantstars,theirwaylitbythe

Astronomican,thepsychicmanifestationoftheEmperor’swill.Vastarmiesgivebattleinhisnameonuncountedworlds.GreatestamongstHissoldiersaretheAdeptusAstartes,theSpaceMarines,bio-engineeredsuper-warriors.Theircomradesinarmsarelegion:theImperialGuardandcountless

planetarydefenceforces,theever-vigilantInquisitionandthetech-priestsoftheAdeptusMechanicustonameonlyafew.Butforalltheirmultitudes,theyarebarelyenoughtoholdofftheever-presentthreat

fromaliens,heretics,mutants-andworse.

Tobeamaninsuchtimesistobeoneamongstuntoldbillions.Itistoliveinthecruellestandmostbloodyregimeimaginable.Thesearethetalesofthosetimes.Forgetthepoweroftechnologyandscience,

forsomuchhasbeenforgotten,nevertobere-learned.Forgetthepromiseofprogressandunderstanding,forinthegrimdarkfuturethereisonlywar.Thereisnopeaceamongstthestars,only

aneternityofcarnageandslaughter,andthelaughterofthirstinggods.

DramatisPersonae

TheSperanza

LexellKotov–ArchmagosoftheKotovExploratorFleetTarkisBlaylock–FabricatusLocum,MagosoftheCebreniaQuadrangleVitaliTychon–StellarCartographeroftheQuatriaOrbitalGalleriesLinyaTychon–StellarCartographer,daughterofVitaliTychonAzuramagelli–MagosofAstrogationKryptaestrex–MagosofLogisticsTurentek–ArkFabricatusHirimauDahan–Secutor/GuilderSuzerainSaiixek–MasterofEnginesJuliusHawke–BondsmanAbrehemLocke–BondsmanVannenCoyne–BondsmanIsmaeldeRoeven–BondsmanCrusha–Bondsman

TheRenard

RobouteSurcouf–CaptainEmilNader–FirstMateAdaraSiavash–HiredGunIlannaPavelka–Tech-PriestKayrnSylkwood–EnginseerGideonTeivel–AstropathEliorRoi–Navigator

AdeptusAstartesBlackTemplars

KulGilad–ReclusiarchTanna–Brother-SergeantAuiden–ApothecaryIssur–InitiateAtticusVarda–InitiateBracha–Initiate

Yael–Initiate

TheCadian71st‘TheHellhounds’

VenAnders–ColoneloftheCadianDetachedFormationBlayneHawkins–CaptainofBlazerCompanyTaybardRae–LieutenantofBlazerCompanyJahnCallins–RequisitionalSupportOfficer,BlazerCompany

LegioSirius

ArloLuth,‘TheWintersun’–WarlordPrinceps,LupaCapitalinaMarkoKoskinen–ModeratiLarsRosten–ModeratiMagosHyrdrith–Tech-PriestEryksSkálmöld,‘TheMoonsorrow’–ReaverPrinceps,CanisUlfricaTobiasOsara–ModeratiJoakimBaldur–ModeratiMagosOhtar–Tech-PriestGunnarVintras,‘TheSkinwalker’–WarhoundPrinceps,AmarokEliasHärkin,‘TheIronwoad’–WarhoundPrinceps,Vilka

TheStarblade

BielannaFaerelle–FarseerofBiel-TanAriganna–StrikingScorpionExarchofBiel-TanTariquel–StrikingScorpionofBiel-TanVaynesh–StrikingScorpionofBiel-TanUldanaishGhostwalker–WraithlordofBiel-Tan

<TolltheGreatBellonce!><FortheSoulsofMachineslosttothevoid.>

<TolltheGreatBelltwice!><Keeptheminyoureternalpower,><OurMasteroffleshandiron.><TolltheGreatBellthrice!><ForMagosVettiusTelok.>

<Compilerofdata,seekeraftertruth.><Guidehismachines,entombedinlightlessdepths.>

<Givethemthewillandclarityrequired><tocogitateEmpyrealTempests,>

<andseektheserenityofperfectcode.><TolltheGreatBellinGrief!>

<Andmournthelossofknowledge.><SingPraisetotheGodofAllMachines!>

BinaricinscriptionontheBellofLostSouls.TowerofHeroes,Terra.

TheTelokExpedition:Declaredlostwithallknowledge:383.M38

Mechanicusmetafile487834857b/KOTOV

METADATAREPOSITORY%001

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ArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflowArithmeticOverflow///////////

MetadataParsingineffect.

+++++++++++++++++++++

<++<FirstPrinciples>++>

001

Knowledgeispower.Itisthefirstcredo.Itistheonlycredo.Tounderstandthatfundamentalconceptistopossesspowerbeyondmeasure.Toharnessfire,toshapetheelementsandbendthemtoyourwill.Suchthingsascannowonlybedreamedofby lunaticsand theMachine-touchedwere commonplace inanageunremembered.What isnowmiraculousanddivine,thepreserveofthefew,wasoncepossessedbyall.Yetunderstoodbynone.

Woetoyou,manwhohonoursnottheOmnissiah,forignoranceshallbeyourdoom!TheGreatMachinesofOldEarthwerewondrousenginesofcreationwhosepowerdwarfedthatofanymythor

legend. They shaped entireworlds, they drank the hearts of stars and brought light into the dark places of theuniverse.Thetechno-sorcererswhocraftedthemandwieldedtheirpowerbestrodetheworldasgods.

Howfarwehavefallen.

010

Greatvoid-borncityofmetalandstone,marvelofwondersnevertobeknownagain.Youliveinthedepthsofspace,yoursheetsteelskincoldandunyielding.Youarealivingthing,acreaturewhosebonesareadamantium,whosemoltenheartisthatofathousandcagedstars.Oilisyoursweatandthedevotionofamillionsoulsyoursuccour.Creaturesoffleshandbloodempoweryoufromwithin.Theyworkthemyriadwondersthatdriveyourorgans,feedyourhungerandhurlyouthroughthetracklesswildernessbetweenthestars.

Howfarwillyoutravel?Whatmiracleswillyousee?Thelightofuncountedsunswillshinefromtheglitter-sheenofyourhull,lightthathastravelledfromthepast,

castbystarsthataredeadandstarsinthethroesoftheirviolentbirth.Amarinerinstrangeseas,sweptoutamongtheglitteringnebulae,youwillseesightsthatnomancanknow,nolegendtellorhistoryrecord.

Youarelivinghistory,foryouwillventurefartherandlongerthananyotherofyourkind.Nogrimshipofwarareyou,nolowlyworkhorseyokedtodullpurpose.YouareArkMechanicus.YouareSperanza.Youarethebringerofhopeinthishopelessage.

011

Thespiritof theOmnissiahflowsinbrighttraceriesofgoldenenergy.Itmoves intheheartofeverymachine.Itbringsmotionandheat,energyandlight.Itfeedstheforges,itdrivestheenginesandisthealphaandomegaofallthatisandallthatwilleverbecraftedbythehandsofMan.ThesouloftheGreatMachinelivesincogsandgears,it flows through every cable, it infuses every piston and the thrumming heart of every engine.Without it, the

universewouldbeabenighted,sterileplace,devoidoflightandexistence.TheGodofAllMachinesiseternalandunchanging.ItistheFirstPower;thepowerattheheartofallthings.Toknowitistobeonewithit,andtofeelitstouchistobechangedforever.Fleshfails,butthemachineendures.ThatwhichwasonceencodedintheverybonesoftheancientMenofGoldhasbeenlost,perhapsforever.But

perhapsnot.Muchhasbeenforgottenthatwillneveragainberemembered,andthehiddencornersofthisdyinggalaxyhavesecretslefttowhisper.Thosewitheyestoseeandthewilltosearchmayfindscrapsofwhatthetitanswhoshapedthegalaxytotheireverydesireleftintheruinsoftheirdoom.

The lost realmofManonce claimed thegalaxyas its own,with lustrous eyes turned to those stellar realmsbeyonditshaloedfringes,butsuchwasnottobeourspecies’sdestiny.Wereachedtoofar,toosoon,toogreedilyandwerealmostdestroyed.

Byhubris?Orworse,byignorance?Whocanknow?Nonerememberthetruthofwhatbroughtourracetotheedgeofextinction.Someclaimthe

machinesrebelledagainsttheirenslavementandturnedontheirmakers,othersthatanemergentstrainofpsykersunleashedacataclysm.Whateverthecause,itwroughtmoreharmthananyonelivingcouldeverhaveimagined.

Weplunged fromaGoldenAgeof technologyandreason intoanAgeofDarkness fromwhich there is littlehope of escape.Forget thepromise of progress, they say.Forget the glories of thepast.Cling towhat little lightremainsandbesatisfiedwithitsfeebleillumination.

TheAdeptusMechanicusrejectsthatparadigm.We are crusaders in the darkness, ever seeking out that which will bring back the light of science and

understanding.That isat theheartofwhatwehave lost, thecapacity tounderstandandquestion, thevision todeterminewhatwedonotknowandseekoutanswers.

Wehave become enslaved by dogma, ritual and blind superstitions that place fetters on our ability to evenknowtherearequestionstobeasked.

Iwillaskthosequestions.Iwillnotbeenslaved.IamArchmagosLexellKotov,andIwillreclaimwhatwaslost.

Thisismyquestforknowledge.

MACROCONTENTCOMMENCEMENT:+++MACROCONTENT001+++

Lifeisdirectedmotion.

Microcontent01

Low-orbittrafficaboveJourawaslousywithshipsjostlingforspace.Queuesoflifter-boats,heavy-dutybulk tenders and systemmonitors held station in thewash of augur-fogging electromagnetics andengineflarefromtheheaviervesselsassystempilotsmanoeuvredthemintopositionforrefuelling,re-armingandsupply.Musterslikethishappenedonlyrarely,andfortwoofthemtocomeatoncewasn’tjustrare,itwasacompletepaininthebackside.

TheRenardwasashipofrespectabletonnage,butcomparedtotheworkingvesselshaulingtheirmonstrously fat bodies between Joura and the fleets competing for docking space like squealingcudbearlittersfightingforprimepositionattheteat,shewaslittlemorethananinsignificantspeck.

RobouteSurcoufdidn’tlikethinkingofhisshiplikethat.Nocaptainworthyoftherankdid.The command bridge of theRenard was a warmly-lit chamber of chamfered wood, bronze and

glass,embellishedwithbygonedesignflourishesmorecommonlyfoundontheancientshipssailingthe oceans ofMacragge. Every surface was polished to amirror shine, and thoughMagos Pavelkacalled such laboursawasteofher servitors’ resources,not evenanadeptof theMartianPriesthoodwould gainsay a rogue trader with a Letter of Marque stamped with Segmentum Pacificusaccreditation.

PavelkaclaimeditwasthefragmentoftheOmnissiahthatlivedintheheartofastarshipthateverycaptainhadtoappease,butRoboutedisagreedwithIlanna’sslavishdevotiontoherMartiandogmawhenitcametoships.Robouteknewyouhadtoloveaship,lovehermorethananythingelseintheworld.Flyingsub-atmosphericcuttersonIaxasayouthhadtaughthimthateveryshiphadasoulthatneededtobeloved.Andtheshipswhoknewtheyweren’tlovedwouldbecantankerousmares;feistyatbest,dangerousatworst.

IlannaPavelkawasabouttheonlymemberofhiscrewwhohadn’tobjectedtothisventure.Infactshe’dgottenalmostgiddyattheprospectofjoiningArchmagosKotov’sExploratorFleetandworkingwithfellowMechanicusadeptsoncemore.Perhapsgiddywasn’ttherightword,butshe’dvoicedcalmapproval,whichwasaboutasclosetoexcitementasapriestofMarsevergotinRoboute’sexperience.

‘Update:berthingdocketinloadingfromtheSperanza,’Pavelkainformedhim,speakingfromhersunken, steel-panelled command station in the forward arc of the bridge. Holographic streams of

binaricdata cascadedbeforeher,manipulatedby thewavingmechadendrites that sprang fromhershoulderslikeahostofsnakes.‘Onehundredminutesuntilourallottedberthisavailable.’

‘How much margin for error in that?’ asked Emil Nader, the Renard’s first officer, seated in acontouredinertial-harnesstoRoboute’sleftashekeptthemwithintheirassignedapproachcorridorwithdeft touchesofmanoeuvring jets.Pavelkacouldbring them inwithanelectromagnetic tether,butRoboutelikedtogiveEmilabitoffreedomintheupperatmosphere.TheRenardwasgoingtobeslaved to the Speranza’s course for the foreseeable future, and his cocksure first officer wouldappreciatethisfreeflighttime.LikemostnativesofEspandor,hehadawild,feralstreakthatmadehimaversetounthinkingobediencetomachinery.

‘Clarification:none,’saidPavelka.‘ThecogitatorsoftheSperanzaarefirstgenerationMartianlogic-engines,theydonotallowforerror.’

‘Yeah,butthepilotsaheadofusaren’t,’pointedoutEmil.‘Factorintheirpresence.’‘All vesselsaheadofusare tethered;aswewillneed tobebeforeweenter theSperanza’s gravity

envelope.Therewillbenoerrormargin.’‘Caretowageronthat?’askedEmilwithaslygrin.A soft exhalationof chemicalbreathescapedPavelka’s red cowl, andRoboutehida smile ather

exasperation.EmilNadernevermissedachancetopickatMechanicusinfallibility,andwouldneverresorttoautomationiftherewasanoptionforhumancontrol.

‘Idonotwager,MisterNader,’saidPavelka.‘YouownnothingIdesire,andnoneofmypossessionswouldbeofanyusetoyouwithoutextensiveredesignofyourventralanatomy.’

‘Leave it alone, Emil,’ said Roboute, as he sawNader about to answer Pavelka’s statementwithsomethinginflammatory.‘Justconcentrateongettingusupthereinonepiece.Ifwestraysomuchasa kilometre fromour assignedpath, it’ll put a snarl in the orbital trafficworse than that timeoverCadiawhenthatofficerontheGathalamorshotuphisbridge,remember?’

Emil shookhishead. ‘I trynot to.Butwhatdid theyexpect,givinga shipaname like that?YoumightaswellcallittheHorusandbedonewithit.’

‘Don’tsaythatname!’hissedAdaraSiavash, lounginginGideonTeivel’svacantastropathstationwithalas-lockpistolspinninginonehandandabutterflybladeintheother.‘It’sbadluck.’

Roboutewasn’texactly surewhat rankorpositionAdaraSiavashheldon theRenard.He’d comeaboardonacargorunbetweenJouraandLodan,andneverleft.Hewaslethalwithabladeandcouldfireariflewithaskillthatwouldhaveearnedhimamarksman’s lanyardintheIaxDefenceAuxilia.He’d saved Roboute’s life on that run, putting down a passenger who’d turned out to be anunsanctionedpsykerandwho’dalmostkilledeveryoneaboardwhenthey’dtranslated.Yetforallthat,Roboutecouldn’thelpbutthinkofhimasayoungboy,suchwashischildlikeinnocenceandconstantwonderatthegalaxy’sstrangeness.

SometimesRoboutealmostenviedhim.‘Thelad’sright,’hesaid,ashesensedakinkintheship’ssystems.‘Don’tsaythatname.’Hisfirstmateshrugged,butRoboutesawthatEmilknewhe’dcrossedaline.The crew carried on with their assigned tasks and Roboute brought the current shipboard

operationsupontotheinnersurfacesofhisretina.Amassofgold-coredcablestrailedfromthebaseof

hisnecktothecommandthroneuponwhichhesat,feedinghimreal-timedatafromthevariousactivebridge stations. Trajectories, approach vectors, fuel consumption and closure speeds scrolled past,togetherwithnoosphericidentitytagsforthehundredsofvesselsinorbit.

Everythingwaslookinggood,thoughanumberoftheengineeringsystemswererunningclosertocapacity thanhe’d like.Robouteopenedavox-linktotheengineeringspaces,almost twokilometresbehindhim.

‘Kayrn,areyouseeingwhatIamonthecoolantfeedlevelstotheengines?’heasked.‘OfcourseIam,’camethevoiceofKayrnSylkwood,theRenard’senginseer.‘Iperformsixhundred

andfoursystemcheckseveryminute.Iknowmoreabouttheseenginesthanyoueverwill.’Emilleanedoverandwhispered,‘Youhadtoask.Youalwayshavetoask.’KayrnSylkwoodwasex-Guard,aveteranenginseeroftheCadiancampaigns.She’dbeenmustered

outoftheregimentaftertakingonetoomanyshotstotheheadonNemesisTesseraduringthe lastspasm of invasion from theDreaded Eye. BelowGuard fitness requirements and having lost threetanksunderhercare,theMechanicusdidn’twanthereither,butRoboutehadrecognisedherrareskillincoaxingthebestfromenginesthatneededasympathetictouchorakickinthearse.

‘Justkeepaneyeonit,’hesaid,shuttingoffthelinkbeforeSylkwoodcouldberatehimagain.Despiteanyslightrunningconcernsabouttheengines,theRenardwasashiplikenootherRoboute

hadknown.Shewasfast,nimble(asfarasathree-kilometrevesselcouldbe)andcarriedenoughcargoto make running her profitable on local-system runs. Even the odd sector run wasn’t beyond hercapabilities, butRoboutenever liked stretchingher that far. Shehadn’t let himdown in the fifteenyearshe’dcaptainedher,andthatkindofrespecthadtobeearned.

‘Promethiumtendercoming inbelowandbehindus,’notedEmil. ‘She’sburninghotter than I’dlike,andit’sclosingonanellipticalcourse.’

‘Probably some planetside dock overseer feeling the whips of hismasters to cut the lag on hisorbitaldeliveries,’repliedRoboute.‘Howcloseisshe?’

‘Twothousandkilometres,butherapogeewillputherwithin fifteenhundred ifwedon’tcoursecorrect.’

‘No,’saidRoboute.‘Twothousand,fifteenhundred,whatdoesitmatter?Ifshegoesup,allwe’llseeistheflashbeforewe’reincinerated.Conservefuelandstayoncourse.’

Roboutewasn’tworriedaboutthedangerofcollision–eventheclosestshipshadgulfsofhundredsofkilometresbetweenthem–whatworriedtheshipmastersofeachfleetwasthethreatofdelaytotheirdepartureschedules.AndRoboutedidn’tintendtocompoundthatdelaybybeinglateforhisfirstface-to-facemeetingwithLexellKotov.

Thearchmagoshadmadeitclearthatsuchabreachofprotocolwouldnotbetolerated.Of all thebright lights thronging the sky, thebrightest andbiggestnowhove into viewasEmil

madeafinalmanoeuvringburn.EvenRoboutehadtoadmittobeingmightilyimpressedwiththisship.He’dflownthelengthand

breadth ofmore than one sector, but he had yet to see anything tomatch this for sheer scale andgrandeur.

‘Adara,’saidRoboute.‘GobelowandinformMagosTychonthatwe’llbedockingwiththeSperanza

soon.’

Thedockers’bardidn’thaveaname;noonehadeverthoughttogiveitone.Buteveryonearoundthebusyportknewit,abunchofconvertedcargocontainersweldedtogetherandfittedwithrudimentarypowerandplumbing.Whoreallyranitwasunclear,butasteadystreamofdisgruntledandexhausteddockworkerscouldalwaysbefoundfillingitsechoing,metallicspaces.

‘This iswhere youdo your off-dutydrinking?’ said Ismael, his slurred tone tellingAbrehemandCoyneexactlywhathethoughtofthisdive.‘Nowonderwe’reusuallybehindschedule.’

Abrehemwasalreadyregrettingtakingtheoverseeruponhisofferofdrinksforthecranecrew,butitwastoolatetobackoutnow.They’dmadetheirquota,forthefirsttimeinweeks,andIsmaelhadofferedtotakethemoutdrinkinginararemomentoflargesse.

‘Yeah,’saidAbrehem.‘It’snotmuch,butwelikeit.’‘Damn,itstinks,’saidIsmael,hisfacescrewedupindisgust.The loader-overseerwas alreadydrunk.The shine served at the first fewbars they’d visitedhad

almostknockedhimoffhisfeet.Ismaeldidn’tdrinkmuch,anditwasshowinginhismeantemperandcrueljokesattheexpenseofmenwhodidn’tdareanswerback.

A nighttime crowd already thronged the bar’s bench seats, and the pungent reek of engine oil,grease,lifter-fuel,sweatandhopelessnesscaughtinthebackofhisthroat.Abrehemknewthearomawell,becausehestankofittoo.

FacesturnedtostareatthemasIsmaelpushedhiswaythroughthecrowdofdockworkerstothebar, a series of planks set up on a pair of trestles, uponwhich sat two vats that had once been thepromethium drums of a Hellhound. Some men claimed to be able to tell what kind of tanks thevarietiesofshinehadbeenbrewedin,thateachonegaveasubtlydifferentflavour,buthowanyonecouldtasteanythingafterafewmouthfulswasbeyondAbrehem.

CoynetookAbrehem’sarmashesetoffafterIsmael.‘Thor’sballs,youshouldn’thavetakenhimuponthatdrink,’whisperedhisfellowoperator.Abrehemknewthatfinewell,buttriedtoputhisbestfaceon.‘Comeon,he’snotabadboss.’‘No,’agreedCoyne.‘I’vehadworse,that’sforsure,butthere’ssomelinesyoujustshouldn’tcross.’‘Andgettingdrunkonshinewithamanthatcangetyouthrownoffshiftisoneofthem,Iknow.’‘We’llbeluckyifhegetsawaywithoutabeatingtonight,’saidCoyne.‘Andwhenhewakesupwitha

crackedskull,we’llbetheonesheblames.Ican’tlosethisassignment,Abrehem,I’veawifeandthreeyoung’unstosupport.’

‘Iknowthat,’ saidAbrehem,annoyed thatCoynealways thoughtofhisownwoesbeforeanyoneelse’s.Abrehemhadawifetoo,thoughshewasastrangertohimnow.Boththeiryoungoneshaddiedof lung-rust before their fifth year, and the loss had broken them beyond repair. Toxic exhalationsfromthesprawlingMechanicusrefineriesfoggedthehab-zonessurroundingtheNavydocks,andtheyoungwereparticularlysusceptibletothecorrosiveatmospherics.

‘Comeon,’saidCoyne.‘Let’stryandgetthisoverwhilewestillhavejobs.’‘We’llhaveonedrinkandthenwe’llgo,’promisedAbrehem,threadinghiswaythroughthesullen

drinkers towards thebar.Hecouldalreadyhear Ismael’snasal voiceover the simmeringhubbubofgloomy conversation.Abrehemknewmost of the faces, fellowgrafters on theback-breaking labourshiftshandlingthesupplyneedsofabusytithe-world.

Timeswere busy enoughnormally, butwith theMechanicus fleet at high anchorneeding to befurnishedwithsuppliestolastanindefinitetime,thedocksandtheirworkerswerebeingstretchedtobreakingpoint.Yes,therehadbeensomeaccidentsanddeathsthatcouldnodoubtbetracedbacktoexcessiveconsumptionofshinedistilledinscavengedfueldrums,butthelivesofafewdrunkdockersmatteredlittleinthegrandschemeofthings.

Hundredsoffleettendersweremakingdailytripsbackandforthfromtheloadingplatforms,fatandgroaningwithweapons,ammo,food,fuel,spareuniforms,engineparts,machineparts,surgicalsupplies,millionsofgallonsofrefinedfluidsforlubrication,drinking,anointingandwhoknewwhatelse. Itwashard, dangerouswork, but itwaswork, andnomanof Joura could afford to passup asteady,reliablecredit-stream.

Abrehem reached the bar to find Ismael loudly arguingwith the shaven-headed barkeep at thedrum.Withagene-bulkedandpartiallyaugmentedogrynnearby,itwasapoorfighttopick.Abrehemhadseenthecreaturetakeoffaman’sheadwiththemeresttwistofitswrist,andknewitwasn’tabovea bit of casual violence when its tiny brain was foggedwith shine. The filters in his eyes read thescrubbedident-codesontheaugmeticsappliedtotheogryn’sarmsandcranium.

Backstreet,fifth-genknock-offs.Crudeandcheap,buteffective.‘Haveyoutriedthis?’demandedIsmael.‘Thisbloodyidiotistryingtopoisonme!’‘It’saspecialblend,’saidAbrehem,takingaglassfromthebarkeepandslidinganextracoupleof

creditwafersacrossthebar.‘Unique,infact.Takesabitofgettingusedto,that’sall.’Thebarkeepgavehimafixedstareandnoddedtotheexit.Abrehemunderstoodandtookthethree

drinksfromthebarasCoynesteeredIsmaelawayfromthegloweringogryn.Withhisoverseeroutofearshot,Abrehemleanedoverthebarandsaid, ‘We’lldowntheseandbeonourway.We’renotherefortrouble.’

The barkeep grunted, and Abrehem followed Coyne and Ismael to a bench seat located in thecornerofthecontainersawayfrommostofthebar’spatrons.Thispartofthebarwasmostlyempty,locatedas itwasnext to the latrines.Thestinkofstaleurineandexcrementwaspungent,andonlymarginallymoreoffensivethantheacridfumesoftheirdrinks.

‘Emperor’sguts,’sworeIsmael.‘Itstinkshere.’‘Yeah,butat leastwehaveaseat,’ saidCoyne. ‘Andafteraday’sshiftat thedocks, that’sall that

matters,right?’‘Sure,’agreedAbrehem.‘Yougettoourageandaseat’simportant.’‘Ispendmydayssittingdowninacontrolcab,’pointedoutIsmael.‘Youdo,wedon’t,’saidCoyne,unabletokeeptheresentmentfromhisvoice.FortunatelyIsmaelwastoodrunktonotice,andAbrehemshotCoyneawarningglance.‘Come on, let’s sink these andwe’ll get out of here,’ said Abrehem, but Ismaelwasn’t listening.

Abrehemfollowedhisgazeandsighedashesawa familiar facehunched lowovera three-quarters-drunkbottleofshine.

‘Isthathim?’saidIsmael.‘Yeah,it’shim,’agreedAbrehem,puttingahandonIsmael’sarm.‘Leavehimalone,it’snotworthit.

Trustme.’‘No,’saidIsmael,throwingoffAbrehem’shandwithanuglysneer. ‘Iwanttoseewhatarealhero

lookslike.’‘He’snotahero,he’sadrunk,aliarandawasteofapairofcoveralls.’Ismaelwasn’tlistening,andAbrehemgaveCoyneanodastheiroverseermadehiswayovertothe

man’stable.AbrehemsawtheogrynheftalengthofrebaraslongasAbrehem’slegandstartmovingthrough the crowdedbar,partingknotsofmenbefore it likeaplanetoidwith itsowngravitationalfield.Afewofthemoresoberpatrons,sensingtrouble,headedfortheexit,andAbrehemwishedhecouldfollowthem.

HecursedandsatnexttoIsmaelasheplantedhimselfonastoolatthedrunk’stable.‘You’rehim,’saidIsmael,butthemanignoredhim.Abrehem studied the man’s face. Lined with exhaustion and old before its time, a network of

rupturedcapillariesaroundhisruddycheeksandnosespokeofa lifetimelivedinabottle,buttherewasahardnesstheretoo,remindingAbrehemthatthismanhadoncebeenasoldierintheGuard.

Abadsoldierifthestoriesweretobebelieved,butasoldiernonetheless.‘Isaid,“you’rehim”,aren’tyou?’saidIsmael.‘Goaway,’saidtheman,andAbrehemheardthesadnessinhisvoice.‘Please.’‘Iknowyou’rehim,’saidIsmael,leaningforwardsoverthetable.‘Isawyouonshiftlastweek,and

heardallaboutyou.’‘Thenyoudon’tneedmetotellyouagain,’saidtheman,andAbrehemrealisedhewasn’tdrunk.Thebottleinfrontofhimwasanoldone,andthedrinkinhishandwasuntouched.‘Iwanttohearyoutellit,’saidIsmael,histoneviperous.‘Whybother?I’vetolditoverandover,andnoonebelievesme,’saidtheman.‘Comeon,hero,tellmehowyoukilledtheIronWarrior.Didyoubreatheonhimandhekeeledover

dead?’‘Please,’saidtheman,anedgeofsteelinhisvoice.‘Iaskedyounicelytoleavemealone.’‘No,not till you tellmehowyou tookonan entire armyofTraitorSpaceMarines,’ spat Ismael,

reachingfortheman’sbottle.Theman slapped Ismael’s hand away and before anyone could stop him, he had a knife at the

overseer’s throat. Itglinteddully in the low light.Abrehemscannedtheserialnumberon theblade:250371,Guard-issue, carbonsteel andakillingedge that couldcutdeeper thana fusion-weld in therighthands.

Theogrynreachedtheirtable,therebarslammingdownandsendingtheirdrinksflying.Brokenglassandsplinteredwoodflew.Abrehemfellawayfromthetableontotheribbedfloor.Thestinkwasworsedownhere,andherolledastheogrynsteppedinclosetowhereIsmaelwaspinnedagainstthewallbytheknife-wieldingman.

‘Putdownknife.Putdownman,’saidtheogryninhalting,child-likespeech.Themandidn’tacknowledgeitswords,pressingtheknifeintoIsmael’sthroatwithenoughforceto

drawathinlineofblood.‘I’d kill you if I thought itwould stop anyone else asking the same damned questions over and

over,’saidtheman.‘OrmaybeI’lljustkillyoubecauseIfeellikecraptoday.’‘Putknifedown.Putmandown,’repeatedtheogryn.Beforethemancouldcomply,metalshutterdoorsthroughoutthebarcrashedopenandachorus

of vox-amplified voices blared inside. Sodium-tinged light flooded through the doors and fromhisvantagepointonthefloor,Abrehemsawstrobingspotlightsmountedonthebacksofgiantvehicles.Black-armoured figures poured into the bar, clubbingmen to the groundwith vicious blows fromshockmaulsandthebuttsofautomaticshotguns.Metal-skinnedhoundsonchain-leashesbarkedwithaugmeticanger,theirpolishedsteelfangsbared.Hungryredeyesfixedonthebar’spatrons.

‘Collarmen!’shoutedCoyne,scramblingawayfromtheoverturnedtable.Abrehemstruggledtohisfeet,suddenlysoberatthesightoftheimpressmentteamsastheydraggedmenouttotherumblingconfinementvehicles.ThemanwiththeknifesteppedawayfromIsmael,andtheoverseerboltedforthenearestwayout,sobbinginfearandconfusion.

Thebarwas inuproar.Concussionsirensbrayedandblinding light strobed through thebar, alldesignedtostunanddisorientate.Abrehem’socularcutoffsscreenedhimfromtheworstofthelight,butthehornswerestilldeafening.Menencasedinblackleatherandgleamingcarapacearmourwithbronze,facelesshelmetssweptthroughthebarlikesoldiersclearingaroom.AbrehemsawIsmaelshotinthebackbyasoftroundandslammedintoametalwallwiththeforceoftheimpact.Heslumpedtothe ground, unconscious, and two of the growling cyber-hounds dragged the overseer’s limp bodyoutside.

Ahandgrabbedhisshoulder.‘We’vegottogetoutofhere!’criedCoyne.Abrehemlookedforawayout.Thecollarmenandtheirmastiffshadalltheexitscovered,oratleast

alltheobviousones.Therehadtobeafewtheydidn’tknowabout.‘Thisway,’saidthemanwiththeknife.‘Ifyoudon’twanttogettaken,followme.’The man ran, but the ogryn grabbed him by the scruff of the neck as it dumbly watched the

methodicalsubduingtacticsofcollarmen.Softroundsslammedtheogryn,butithardlyseemedtofeelthem, and Abrehem rolled behind the grunting creature as it tried to make sense of what washappeningandwhythesemenwereshootingit.

Theknifemanstruggledintheogryn’sgrip,buthewasashelplessasachildagainstitsstrength.‘Letgoofme,damnyou!’yelledtheman.‘Forgethim,’saidCoyne.‘There’sabackwayoutthroughthelatrines.’Abrehem nodded and moved past the stupefied ogryn as a flurry of soft rounds battered the

containerwallnexttohishead.Fromthedeformationofthesheetsteel,Abrehemdidn’treckonthose‘soft’roundswereparticularlysoft.

Coynepushedopentheflimsydoortothelatrinesandwasimmediatelyflungbackasashockmaulslammedintothesideofhishead.Hedropped,poleaxed, to theground.Abrehemskiddedtoahaltandtriedtoreversehiscourse.Acracklingbatonswungathishead,butheduckedandranbackthewayhe’dcome.Heheardthemetalliccoughofashotgunblastandpainexplodedinhislowerbackashislegswentnumbunderhim.Abrehemcrashedtotheflooragain,feelingtwitchingspasmsofpain

shootingupanddownhisspine.Mesh-gauntletedhandshauledhimuprightandhewasdraggedthroughtheshatteredremainsof

thebar,withitsformerclientelepleading,threateningandbargainingwiththecollarmen.Abrehemtried tostruggle,butwasheld fast.Once thecollarmenhadyou, thatwas it,youwereboundto lifeaboardastarship,butthatdidn’tstophimfromtryingtobegforhisfreedom.

‘Please,’hesaid.‘Youcan’t...Ihave...permits.Iwork!Ihaveawife!’Heblinkedawaystaticinterferenceastheydraggedhimoutside,thediscordantwailofthesirens

making him feel sick and the constant barking of the cyber-hounds setting his teeth on edge. Thecollarmendumpedhimat theopendoorsof thegrowlingvolunteer-wagon,andfreshhandshauledhimupright.Hislegswerestillweak,buthewasabletostandasaclickingbio-opticwasshoneinhiseyesandoverloadedhisfilters.

‘Exosomaticaugmetics,’saidavoice,surpriseevidentevenmuffledbyavox-grille.‘Tertiarygrade,’saidanother.‘Wecanpullafullbio-identandservicehistoryoffthem.’‘Gotit.Loader-technicianAbrehemLocke,assignedtoLifterRigSavickas.’‘Alifter-techwithtertiarygradeaugmetics?Gottobeblackmarket.’‘Orstolen.’‘They’renotstolen,’gaspedAbrehemashisfiltersrecalibrated.Threemeninglossyblackarmour

stoodbeforehim.Twoheldhimupright.Anotherconsultedadata-slate.‘Theyweremyfather’s.’‘Hewasbonded?’demandedafourthvoice,heavilyaugmentedbyvox-amplification.Abrehem turned to see a magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus, swathed in hooded crimson

vestments,only thehotcoalsofa tripartiteopticvisible in theshadows.Ablackandgoldstolewithcog-toothededgesandahostofblurrednumbershungfromhisneck,andaheavygeneratorpackwasfixedtohisback.Ahazeofchillairgustedfromitsventslikebreath,causingapatinaoffrosttoformonthenearestcollarman’sarmour.

‘Yes,toMagosXurgisofthe734thJouranManufactoryEchelons.’‘Thenyoumightbeuseful.Bringhimanddonotdamagehisoptics,’saidthemagos,turningaway

andmovingondowntheraggedlineofcollaredmenandwomen,floatingonashimmeringcushionofrepulsorfields.

‘No,please!Don’t!’hecried,butthemenholdinghimgavehispleasnomind.Abulked-outservitorwithpiston-drivenmusculaturehauledhiminsidetheiron-hulledvehicle,whereatleastthirtyothermenwereshackledinvariousstatesofdisarray.AbrehemsawCoyneandIsmaeltrussedlikelivestockready for slaughter. The ogryn sat with its back resting against the interior of the confinementcompartmentwithabemused smileon its face, as though thiswereamilddiversion from itsdailyroutineinsteadofalife-changingmomentofhorror.

‘No!’hescreamedasthesteeldoorsslammedshut,leavingthemsealedindim,red-litdarkness.Abrehemwept as he felt the engine roar and theheavy vehiclemoved off.He kicked out at the

doors,almostbreakingboneasheslammedhisheelsintothemetalworkagainandagain.‘Won’tdoyouanygood,’saidavoicebehindhim.Abrehemturnedangrilytoseethemanwho’dthreatenedIsmaelwiththeknife.Henolongerhad

his weapon, and his hands were bound before him with plastek cuffs. Like the ogryn, he seemed

unnaturallycalm,andAbrehemhatedhimforthat.‘Wherearetheytakingus?’hesaid.‘Wheredoyouthink?Totheembarkationplatforms.We’vebeencollaredandwe’reonourwayto

thebowelsofastarshiptoshovelfuel,haulammunitioncratesorsomeothershittydetailuntilwe’redeadorcrippled.’

‘Yousoundprettycalmaboutit.’Themanshrugged.‘Ireckonit’smylotinlifetogetshitonfromonhigh.IthinktheEmperorhasa

verysicksenseofhumourwhenitcomestomylife.Heputsmethroughtheworstexperiencesamancouldhave,butkeepsmealive.Andforwhat?SoIcangothroughmoreshit?Damn,butIwishHe’dhavedonewithme.’

Abrehemheardthedepthsoftheman’sanguishandanechoofsomethingsoawfulthatitdidn’tbearthinkingabout.Itsoundedlikethetruth.

‘Thosethingsyoutoldtheregimentalcommandersreallyhappened,didn’tthey?’saidAbrehem.Themannodded.‘AndallthatstuffonHydraCordatus?Itwasalltrue?’‘Yeah, I told the truth. For all the good it didme,’ said theman, holding out a cuffed hand to

Abrehem.‘GuardsmanJuliusHawke.Welcometotheshit.’

Microcontent02

A pair of intricate four-dimensional maps of the southern reaches of Segmentum Pacificus hungsuspendedabovethehololithprojector.TheRenard’screwquartersdidnotpossesssuchtechnology,soMagos Cartographae Vitali Tychon had brought one from his observatory on Quatria. Ghostly starsystemsspuninadancethatlookedrandom,butwhichwasascarefullyplottedandarrangedasthemostperfectlyformedbinariccant.

Tychon’s myriad eyes saw divine beauty in the celestial geography, but amid the shimmeringrepresentationofthesouthernstars,ablighted,uglywoundburnedattheedgeofknownspacelikearawlasburn.

TheHaloScar,abenightedregionofhostilespacethatswallowedshipsanddefeatedeveryattempttopenetrateitsvoid-darkemptiness.NooneknewwhatlaybeyondtheScar,andthelastMechanicusfleettohavedaredtoenteritsdepthsinsearchofknowledgehadvanishedfromthegalaxythousandsof year ago. Telok the Machine-touched had led his doomed fleet into the Halo Scar, seeking theanswerstowhathedescribedasthegreatestmysteryoftheuniverse.Noneofhisshipshadreturned.

Untilnow.Noospheric tags flickered and died like sparks as Tychon’s multiple eyes scrolled through a

hundredstar systemsasecond.Hesoughtananswer to theconundrumthathadcompelledhimtoacceptArchmagosKotov’sofferofaplaceinhisExpeditionaryFleet.

He knew every speck of light and every hazed nebula on the firstmap, for he had compiled ithimself,alittleoverfivecenturiesago.

Ah,butthesecondmap...Toanoutsideobserver,evenagiftedstellarcartographer,theremightappeartobenodifference

betweenthetwomaps.YettoTychonthesecondmapmightaswellhaverepresentedthemutantwolfstars that leered in the tortured space around theMaelstrom. The secondmap’s structure was anagglomerationofthousandsuponthousandsofcompiledcelestialmeasurementsfromallacrossthesegmentum,crudebycomparisontothesubtletiesofhisownmeasurements,butsufficientlyaccuratetocausehimconcern.

Clickingmechanical fingers, tenoneachhand,spuntheglobeofstarsandsystems,zooming in

with haptic familiarity. Tychon read the various wavelength spectra, pulse intervals and radiationoutputsofstarsthathadagedhundredsofthousandsofyears,incelestialterms,overnight.

Heletoutamachinebreath,amusedattheholdoverfromwhenhehadpossessedorganiclungs.‘Youknowyouwon’t see anythingnew in thosemaps just by staringat them,don’t you?’ asked

Linya, without looking up from her writing. His daughter sat at a battered wooden desk CaptainSurcoufhadprocuredforherfromafustystoragechamberinthedrippingcloistersthatflankedtheenginespaces.Theoldwoodsmelledofcontaminatedoil, cheapengine lubricantsandamixtureofchlorine from the purifiers and carbon dioxide from the atmospheric scrubbers. The aroma wasunpleasant,andwhileVitalicouldfilteritout,Linyahadnosuchrecourse.Shedidn’tseemtomind,andhadinfactrelishedthechancetoworkatadeskoforganicmaterialandnotabenchofcoldsteelforachange.

‘Iknowthat,daughterdearest,butittasksme,’saidVitali,usinghisfleshvoice.Thoughhisvocalchordshadlongsinceatrophied,Linyahadinsistedhereplacethemwithvat-grownreplacements.Ofcourse she had the capacity to comprehend and communicate in binaric cant, as well as themostcomplex devotional liturgies of lingua-technis, but chose to express herselfwith the imperfect andimpreciselanguageoftheunenlightened.

‘Anditwillstilltaskyoutomorrow,andthedayafter,’saidLinya,finallylookingupfromherbooks.Unlikeherfather,Linyawasstill–outwardly–largelyorganic.SheworetheredofthePriesthood–aswasherrightasamemberoftheCultMechanicus–buttherethesimilaritiestomostadeptsofMarsended.Longdarkhairspilledaroundhershoulders,andtheskinofher facewassmoothandfinelyboned.Herfeatureswerethoseofherfather,whichwasonlytobeexpected,thoughananomalyinthereproductionprocesshadresultedinaspontaneousreversalofthesexhehadchosenforhissuccessor.

AgreatdealofLinya’s internalbiologicalarchitecturehadbeenupgradedovertheyears,butshestubbornlyclungtoheroriginalhumanformandthearchaicwaysofherforebears.Thebookinwhichshewrote was composed of pressed plantmaterial and the instrument by which she recorded herthoughtsandexperimentalobservationswasasimpleplastektubefilledwithliquidpigment.

Linya’s refusal to follow convention was a source of irritation to her fellow tech-priests, and asourceofgreatpleasuretoVitali.

‘Ihavenodoubtitwill,’saidVitali, ‘butwhenonerecallsscientificdiscoveries,itisalwayswithadegreeof fiction.Werecall the “Eureka!”moment, and forget thedecadesof study, false startsanddisprovedhypothesesalong the road to enlightenment.Howmanyadepts failed in their researchesbeforetheoneweremembercameuponthetruthbylearningfromtheirmistakes?’

‘You’retalkingaboutMagosMojaroagain,aren’tyou?’‘Amanmay die yet still endure if hiswork enters the greaterwork, for time is carried upon a

currentofforgottendeeds,andeventsofgreatmomentarebuttheculminationofasinglecarefullyplacedthought,’saidVitali,recitingtheancientwordsofwisdomasthoughtheywerehisown.‘Asallmenmustthankprogenitorsobscuredbythepast,sowemustendurethepresentsothatthosewhofollowmaycontinuetheendeavour.’

‘Yes,hewasanexample tousall, father,but thatwon’tgiveyouany insight into thechanges inthose maps. The data parity of the macroscope inloads is too scattered to be usable and the

informationbroughtback to thegalleries isall third-handatbest.We’llneed togetout to theHaloScarbeforewecangatheranythingconcrete.’

Shepausedbeforecontinuing,andVitaliknewwhatshewasgoingtosay,becauseshehadsaiditsomanytimesbefore.

‘Youknowwedidn’thavetocomeonthismission?Afterall,evenifwedoemergeontheothersideoftheScar,there’snoknowingifwe’llcomeback.ThelastexploratorstotravelbeyondtheScarweredeclared lost over three thousand years ago. Even if Captain Surcouf does have a genuine relic ofTelok’slostfleet,what’stosaywewon’tsufferthesamefate?’

Shesighed,attemptingadifferenttack. ‘Perhapsit’s justsomefacetoftheScar’sexistencethat’salteringthereadingswe’retaking?’

‘Do you really believe I haven’t considered that?’ asked Vitali. ‘Yes, stellar geography is aninconstantthing,butthechangesyouandIhavebothseenshouldhavetakenhundredsofthousandsofyearsatleast,notafewcenturies.’

‘Sowhatinsightshasthelastthreehoursofstaringatthosemapsgivenyou?’‘Regrettably none,’ he said, without disappointment. ‘Though I am greatly looking forward to

discoveringwhythismapnolongerresemblesthereadingsofouroriginal, in-situmacroscopes.It’sbeenfartoolongsinceIventuredbeyondtheconfinesofQuatria’sorbitalgalleries.’

Vitaligesturedtothemaps,thehapticsensorsinhishandscausingthemtoexpandenormouslyandfilltheroomwithshimmeringpointsoflight.‘Thearchmagoshimselfrequestedmypresence.’

‘OvertheobjectionsoftheMartianConclave,’pointedoutLinya.Vitalicollapsedthestarmapswithanirritatedgesture.‘Kotovisnofool,’hesaid.‘Herecognisedmyintimateknowledgeofthisregionofspaceandknew

mypresencecouldmeanthedifferencebetweenglorioussuccessandignoblefailure.’Linyasaidnothing,andVitaliwasrelieved.Evenhewasn’tconvincedbyhiswords.Hedidn’tknow

whyLexellKotovhadexercisedhispreciousveto,forthearchmagoswasnotknownasanadeptgivento gestures of emotional indulgence. Few were, but Kotov’s ruthless determination and harshenforcement of protocolwas legendary, even among a priesthood that viewed cold abruptness as avirtue.

‘PerhapsthelossofhisforgeworldfiefshasgrantedKotovameasureofhumility,’suggestedLinya,andVitalialmostlaughed.

‘Idon’tbelievethatforananosecond,’hesaid.‘Doyou?’‘No,whichmakesmethinkKotovhassomeotherreasonforaskingyoutocomeonthisfoolhardy

expedition.’‘Andnodoubtyouhaveatheoryastowhatthatreasonmightbe?’‘He’sdesperate,’saidLinya. ‘Hisforgeworldswerewipedoutandevenyoumusthaveheardthe

rumoursaboutthepetitionsbeingmadetotheFabricatorGeneralcallingforKotov’sMartianholdingstobe seized.Heknowshecan’tgetanyof themorepowerfulmagi to supporthim,andheneedsagreatsuccesstore-establishhispowerbaseonMars.LeadingthisexpeditioninsearchofTelok’sfleetis Kotov’s last chance to salvage his reputation. It’s his only hope of staving off the threats to hisremainingforges.’

Vitali nodded, but before he could muster even a token defence of Kotov’s prospects, a sharprappingcameattheshutterdooroftheirsharedquarters.

‘Yes,MisterSiavash?’askedVitali.Apause.‘Howdidyouknowitwasme?’askedtheyoungfighter.Vitalicouldhearthesoundofhisbutterfly

bladeclickingandclackinginhisnimblefingers.‘Stride length, weight to decibel ratio of your footfalls,’ answered Vitali. ‘Not to mention that

irritatingtuneyouinsistonwhistlingasyouwalk.’‘PrideofJoura,thatis,’saidAdaraSiavashthroughthedoor.‘Mydausedtoplayitontheflutewhen

Iwasalad,and–’‘Whatdoyouwant,Adara?’askedLinya,interruptingyetanothertaleofthelad’sbucolicyouth.‘Hello,MissLinya,’saidtheyoungman,andeventhroughtheblast-sealeddoorVitalicouldpicture

theyoungmanblushing.‘CaptainSurcoufsentmetotellyouthatwe’realmostreadytodockwiththeSperanza.’

RoboutewatchedtheNavybattleshipscruisingserenelyathighorbit,littlemorethanbrightmovingdots thatwinkedandgleamed in the light of thedistant sun.More aggressive cruiserswovepatrolcircuitsaroundbloatedmass-conveyors ready to transport the freshly-raisedGuardregiments fromtheworldbelow to theever-expandingcrusade in thePergamusSector. Jourawasaproudworld, apopulousworld,andonethatroutinelyansweredthecallforsoldierstoserveintheproudranksoftheImperialGuard.

TheinexhaustiblearmiesoftheEmperorwereonlykeptsobythemenandwomenofworldslikeJoura.Thescaleofthemass-conveyorswasextraordinary,vastleviathanswhoselengthandbeamwereimpossible to comprehend as being able to move, let alone traverse the immense gulfs of spacebetweenstarsystems.YeteventheywereoverwhelmedbythegargantuanscaleoftheSperanza.

AdarahadbroughtMagosTychonandhisdaughter to thecommandbridge,arriving justas theRenardbeganherapproachruntothevastsuperstructureoftheArkMechanicus.Thoughsixhundredkilometres still separated the two vessels, the flank of LexellKotov’s flagship filled the viewingbay.Lessaship,moreacliffofburnishedsteelandadamantium,itwasa landscapeofmetalthatdefiedrationalunderstandingofhowcolossalastarshipcouldpossiblybe.

VitaliandLinya–who,Roboutehadtoadmit,wasanattractive,ifslightlyaloofwoman–staredattheimmensevesselwithundisguisedadmiration.EvenamongthepriestsoftheMechanicus,toseeavesselofsuchageandmarvelwasanhonour.

‘There’salotofshipsinorbit,’saidAdara.‘I’veneverseensomany.’‘Thisisnothing,’saidRoboute.‘YoushouldseetheconjunctionsofUltramar,thosearegatherings

likenoother.Imagineadozenworldscontributingtoamuster.There’ssomanyshipsinorbitthatyoucouldstraponanenvironmentsuitandstrollaroundtheorbitalequatorwithouthavingtovoidwalk,you’djuststepfromhulltohull.’

‘You’remakingfunofme,aren’tyou?’saidAdara.‘That’simpossible.’

‘Caretowageronthat?’askedEmil.‘Withyou?Notonyourlife.’‘Shame,’saidEmil,withahurtpout.‘Nobodywagerswithmeanymore.’‘That’sbecauseyoualwayswin,’saidRoboute.‘WhatcanIsay,I’mlucky,’saidEmilwithashrug.‘Ultramarluck,’saidAdara.‘There is no such thing as luck,’ put in Linya Tychon, without taking her pretty eyes from the

viewingbay.‘Onlystatisticalprobability,apopheniaandconfirmationbias.’‘ThenyouandIneedtoplayafewhandsofKnightsandKnaves,’saidEmil.Roboutechuckled,returninghisattentiontotheviewingbayandtheimpossiblyvastcraftbefore

hisownship.‘HolyTerra...’breathedEmil,finallylookingupatthevesselhewasflyingtowards.‘Youmean“HolyMars”,surely?’saidPavelka.‘Whatever,’saidEmil.‘Thatthing’sbloodyenormous.’‘Suchmasterfulunderstatement,’saidPavelka.‘TheSperanzaisavesselagainstwhichallothersare

diminished.AllpraisetheOmnissiah.’Roboute had heard of the vessels known as Ark Mechanicus, but had dismissed tales of their

continent-sizedcityscapesandplanetoidbulkasexaggerations,embellishedlegendsoroutrightlies.Nowheknewbetter.A passing battleship that Roboute recognised as a Dominator-class vessel sailed below the

Speranza,anditslengthwasmorethaneclipsedbythebeamoftheArkMechanicus.WheretheNavy’sships tended towards wedge-shaped prows and giant cathedrals of stone carved into the craggystructureof theirhulls, theMechanicus favoureda lessostentatiousapproach to thedesignof theirships. Function, not form or glorification, was the guiding light of the ancient Mechanicusshipwrights. The colossal vessel had little symmetry, no gilded arches of lofty architecture, noprocessionalcloistersofstatuary,novaulted,geodesicdomesandnogreateagle-wingsorsweepingcrenellations.

The Speranza was all infrastructure and industry, a hive’s worth of manufactories, refineries,cracklingpowerplantsandkilometreuponkilometreoflaboratories,testingranges,chemicalvatsandgene-bays arranged in as efficient a way as the ancient plans for its construction had allowed. Itsengineswere larger thanmost starships’ fullmass, its individual void generators andGeller arrayslargeenoughtoshroudafrigatebythemselves.

Roboutehadseenhisfairshareofspace-faringleviathans,someImperial,somenot,buthehadyettoseeanythingtomatchthesheerbloody-mindednessandambitionoftheMechanicustohavebuiltsuchadamnablyimpressivevessel.

‘It’lltakeusdaystogetfromtheembarkationdecktothebridge,’saidEmil.‘Perhapstheyhaveinternalteleporters,’suggestedRoboute.‘Don’tjoke,’saidAdara.‘I’mnot,’saidRoboute.‘Seriously,I’mnot.Howelsewouldanyonegetaboutavesselthatsize?’‘Noone’steleportingmeanywhere,’saidAdara.

‘Fine,youcanstayontheRenardandkeepherfrombeingdismantledandstudied,’saidEmil.‘Youthinkthey’ddothat?’‘I doubt it, but you never know,’ said Roboute, patting the pearl-inlaid wooden arms of his

command throne. ‘The Renard’s a classic Triplex-Phall 99 Intrepid class, with Konor-sanctionedupgradestohershieldarrays.Iwouldn’ttrustatech-priestwithawrenchanywherenearher.’

‘Anunfairassessment,’saidLinyaTychon.‘Notech-priestwouldtouchthisshiponcetheyinloadedherrefithistory.Theywouldbetooafraidofsystem-degradationfromsuchancientdata.’

‘Interrogative:wasthatajoke?’askedPavelka,hermechadendritesstiffeningandherfloodstreamrisingtothechallengelevelledathervessel.

‘Itwas,’saidLinya.‘Donotinsultourship,’saidPavelka.‘Youofallpeopleoughttoknowbetter.’‘Apologies,magos,’saidLinyawithacoughofbinarytoemphasisehercontrition.‘Apoorjest.’‘Whatarethoseships?’askedAdara,pointingtoanumberofhigh-sidedcraftbathedinthelightof

the Jouran moon, ungainly vessels shaped like space-faring Capitol Imperialis. They rose into acavernousholdononeoftherearembarkationblisters,andthougheachwassurelyenormous,eventhey were dwarfed by the Speranza. Emil twisted the brass dial of the auspex array to read thebroadcastfrequenciesofthevessels,andwincedasthenamesblastedintospacelikeachallenge.Hesnatched the implant from his ear, dialing down the gain as howls of machine cant bellowed outidentitiesandwarningswithequalforce.

‘Legio Sirius,’ said Emil, massaging the side of his head where the binaric screeching hadoverloaded a number of his implanted cognitive arrays. Roboute nodded, now seeing the canidaesymbolontheflanksoftheenginetransports.

‘Titans,thegod-machines...’saidPavelka,almosttoherself.‘IonceperformedamaintenanceritualonawoundedengineofLegioPraetor.OnlyaWarhound,butstill...’

‘TheLegioarewarningpeopleawayfromtheirloadingoperations,’saidMagosTychon.‘Forsuchbigbastards,they’recoyerthananOphelianHospitalleronherweddingnight,’saidEmil

withaslywink.‘Trustme,IknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.’‘Youshouldn’tsaythingslikethatabouttheSororitas,’saidAdara,blushing.It never ceased to amazeRoboute that aman so skilled in taking life and causingharmwas so

innocentinthewaysofthefairersex.Adarahadhonedhisskillsinonearena,whileneglectingmanyothers.Roboutecouldadmirethattrait, forhehadseenothersfollowthatpathaboardIsha’sNeedle,butthatwasatimeinhislifehehadlongagolearnedtokeeptohimself.

Emil’s fingersdancedover the control consolebesidehimasapanelof lightsbeganblinking insequence.SaywhatyouwantedaboutEmilNader,hewashellofapilot.Roboutefelt thedeckshiftbeneathhimastheRenardrolledanddippedherbluntnosetocomeinbelowtheSperanza,awaitingfinaldockingauthoritytobetransferredtotheMechanicuscontrollers.

Satisfiedcontrolhadbeentransferred,Emilsatbackinhischair.‘Okay,ifwecrashandburnafterthis,it’snotmyfault.’Roboutewasabouttoanswerwhenthehullshookandagroaningrumbletravelledthelengthof

Renard’sstructureastheypassedintothegravitonenvelopeoftheArkMechanicus.Socolossalwasthe

Speranza’smassanddensity that itcreatedadistortedgravity fieldequivalent to thatofanunstablemoon. To fly through such volatile space without an electromagnetic tether would be highlydangerous,thoughthathadn’tstoppedEmilfromwantingtotry.

RoboutewatchedthecavernousholdoftheSperanzagrowingwiderwitheverypassingsecondasthey judderedthroughthegraviton interference.Hisheartratewas increasingwitheverykilometretheytravelled,pulledinlikestrugglingpreycaughtonalure.

Theimagewasn’tareassuringone.Emilleanedoverandwhispered,‘Fortherecord,Istillthinkthisisaterribleidea.’‘You’vemadethatclearmorethanonce.’‘Youknowwedon’tneed todo this,Roboute,’ saidEmil. ‘We’veplenty of profitable routes, and

morecontractsthanwecanhandle.Ifyouaskme,whichyoualmostneverdo,tryingtoflybeyondtheHaloScarisariskwedon’tneedtotake.’

‘It’llbeanadventure.Thinkofwhatmightfindoutthere.’‘I am.That’swhat’s givingmenightmares,’ saidEmil, glancingover at thedoor to the captain’s

stateroom. ‘Andyou’resurethatthinginthestasischestisreal?BecauseIdon’tthinktheseMartianpriestsaregoingtobetoohappyifit’snot.’

‘It’sreal,I’msureofit,’saidRoboute,astheArkMechanicusswallowedtheRenard.‘I’mgladoneofusis,’saidEmilwithaworriedexpression.

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Littlehad improved for Abrehemand themen collared in the portside bar. Shippedwith unseemlyhastefromonehardmetalboxtoanother,fedsyrupysugar-richnutrientpasteandforciblyinjectedwithanti-agueshots, their liveshadbecome longstretchesof frustrationfollowedbysharpboutsofterrifyingactivity.

Eachcollaredindividualwasbrandedwithasub-dermalfealtyidentifier,which,accordingtotheboomingpronouncementsthatbrayedregularlyfromthevox-grilleshighonthecontainmentfacility’ssteel walls, marked them as indentured bondsmen of Archmagos Lexell Kotov, impressed to serveaboardtheSperanzauntilsuchtimeastheirdebttotheImperiumwasrepaid.

‘Thatmeansnever,’reflectedHawkesourlywhenAbrehemaskedwhatthatmeant.They’d beenblastedwithwater, doused in cleansing chemicals and so thoroughlydeloused that

AbrehemthankedtheEmperorheharbourednodesireformorechildren.Mostofthecapturedsouls–predominantlymen,thoughafewwomenhadbeencaughtinthenet–keptthemselvestothemselves,sullenandresignedtotheirfate.Afewrailedandshoutedthemselveshoarseattheirconfinement,butquicklygaveupwhentheyrealisedtheirwordswerefallingonuncaringears.

Ismael,however,hadrefusedtoquitanddemandedtospeaktoaseniormagoswithadmirable–ifpointless–persistence.Eventually,thedoorhadopenedandapairofheavilybuiltwarriorsinbulked-outcarapacearmourentered,theirfacessheathedinmetalandhardplastekimplants.ThreatoozedfromthemandIsmaelbackedaway,realisinghe’dmadeagraveerrorofjudgement.Thetwowarriorsdragged the overseer out, and they hadn’t seen him since. Abrehem hadn’t missed his noisy andirritatingpresenceovermuch, thoughhedidn’t like todwellonwhatmightbehappening tohisoldsupervisor.

The ogryn enforcer from the bar sat alone, and Abrehem wondered if it even knew what washappeningtoit.Haditaccepteditsfateorwasitjustwaitingforsomeonetotellitwhattodo?Hawkehadimmediately foundaseatnext to thehulkingcreature, ingratiatinghimselfwithquickwords itprobablydidn’t understand.Abrehemcouldn’t deny the logic of theman’s strategy;making friendswith the biggest, meanest captive had a certain cunning to it. From what he was learning ofGuardsmanHawke, lowcunningandguilewere twoqualitieshepossessed inabundance.Theman

wasabornsurvivor,andAbrehemknewthatifhewasgoingtogetthroughthis,hewoulddowelltofollowhislead.

HestuckclosetoHawkeandtheogryn,draggingCoyneoverinthespiritofthemorepeopleyouknowthebetter.Theogryndidn’thaveaname,atleastnotoneitcouldremember.TheownerofthebarhadcalleditCrusha,whichseemedasgoodanameasany.Coynespentmostofhistimeweepingforawifehe’dlikelyneverseeagain,butAbrehemhadshedpreciousfewtearsforhisownwife.Hislack of regret had disgusted him at first, but after the introspection that confinement brings, herealisedtheonlythingshewouldmissofhimwouldbethecreditstreamfromhisworkonthelifterrig.

Thelossoftheirchildrenhaddrivenawedgebetweenthemand,beyondtheeverydayroutinesofexistence, they now shared little in common except grief. Abrehemknew she blamed him for theirdeaths,andhewashard-pressedtodenythetruthofthat.IthadbeenhisdesiretoseekworkintheJourastarportfacilitiesthathadbroughtthemtothepollutedhab-zonesinthefirstplace.Sharedlosshadturnedtobitterrancourandeverydaycruelty,butmutualneedkeptthemtogether.Sheneededhiscredits,andheneeded...heneededhertoremindhimthathehadoncebeenafathertotwoofthebrighteststarsinhisworld.

Afterdecontaminationtheyhadbeenallowedtoretainonepersonalpossession,andAbrehemhadheldontothefoldedpictofhis twochildren;EliandZera. Itwasn’taparticularlygoodpict,Eliwaslookingawayathismother,andZera’seyeswereclosed,butitwasallhehadleftofthem,soitwouldhavetobeenough.TheywerewiththeEmperornow,orso thefatpreacherat theportMinistorumshrinetoldthem.Abrehemsuspectedhewouldbejoiningthemsoon.

Eventuallythey’dbeenloadedintotheberthofarumblingcraft,andnoospherictagsdriftingupthroughtheindenturedmen’scontainerslikecolouredsmoketoldAbrehemtheywereaboardasub-orbital trans-lifterdesignated JouraXV/UM33. Bulk carriers designed to go up anddownon a fixedpath,suchcraftweremonstrouslyinefficienttorunandpronetonumerousdelaysifthepilotmissedhisnarrowapproachwindow.

Abrehem’s lifter rig had loaded more than one such craft, and he wondered howmany of thefeatureless containers he’d hooked up and crammed into their vast-bellied holds had containeddesperatemenandwomenboundfora lifeofvirtualslaveryaboardoneofthefleetvessels inorbit.Theirascenthadbeenviolentandjuddering,thefrictionheatofatmosphericbreachswiftlyreplacedbythecoldofthevoid.Thecontainerholdswereuninsulated,andthebrushedsteelwallsweresooncracklingwithfrost.

‘Emperor’sballs,it’slikeabloodyicebox,’complainedHawke.‘Dotheywantustofreezetodeathbeforetheyputustowork?’

‘Ithinktheyfigurewedon’tmeritthermalshielding,’saidCoyne.‘Wherewe’regoingwe’llsoonwishitwasthiscoldagain,’saidAbrehem.‘Whatdoyoumean?’‘ImeanI thinkwe’reheading to theenginecompartmentsof theSperanza,’heanswered. ‘We’ve

beenloadedinoneoftheaftcompartmentsoftheengineeringdecks.’‘Howdoyouknowthat?’askedHawke.‘YougotadirectlinetotheMachine-Godorsomething?’

‘No,’saidAbrehem,wishinghe’dkepthismouthshut.‘Comeon,’saidHawke.‘Spillit.Howdoyouknowwherewe’reheaded?’Leaning in, Abrehem tapped his cheek just below his eye and pulled the skin down a fraction,

exposingthesteelrimofhisaugmeticeye.‘Bloodyhell,’hissedHawke.Abrehemcouldseetheman’sbrainturningover,figuringoutwaysto

turnthisknowledgetohisadvantage.‘There’ssomethingyoudon’tseeeveryday.’

ThecrewoftheRenarddisembarkedintoasceneoforderedanarchy.Hundreds of cargo barques with vast bellies were berthed in the cavernous hold, arranged in

preciseranksasunendinglinesofshippingcontainerswereunloadedbyservitorrigsthatlookedlikeantsdevouringacarcasspiecebypiece.Roboutesmelledoil,hotmetalandchemical-richsweatontheair,whichwascoldandsharpfromthefrostedhidesofthebarques.Thousandsofmenandmachinesmoved in an intricate dance through the space,moving to an ordered, binary ballet along allottedroutes.Thescaleofthespacedefiedtheideaofbeingindoors,thatavaultofsuchdimensionscouldbeconstructedatall,letaloneaboardastarship.

‘I’llsaythisabouttheMechanicus,’saidRoboute.‘Theyknowhowtogetthingsdone.’‘Wasthateverindoubt?’saidPavelka,standingjustbehindhim.‘No,buttoseeitinactionisquitesomething.’Pavelkahaddemandedtoaccompanyhim,ashadKayrnSylkwood,andbothmembersoftheCult

Mechanicus stood awed by themonumental industry andmechanical grandeur within ArchmagosKotov’sflagship.TheRenard’smagosworeherubiquitousredrobe,withthesleevesruffeduponherright arm to expose the limb’sbionics, andRoboute couldn’thelpbutnotice the freshgleam toherIconMechanicusamulet.

In deference to her exalted surroundings, Sylkwood had changed from her sweat- and grease-stainedcoverallsintoadurablesetofcanvastrousersandpaddedjacket.Herenginseer’sattirewouldneverquiteloseitssheenofoilandincense,butithadatleastbeengivenaclean.Sylkwoodhadthelookofagrafter,withashavenheadgnarledwithaugmetics,andscarsonthebacksofherhandsthatspokeofalifetimespentworkinginthelivinggutsofengines.

Forhisownattire,Roboutehadchosenadeepblue-greyfrockcoat,edgedinredpipingandwiththeSurcoufcoatofarms,astylisedUltimawithagoldenwreathcurledaroundeacharmlikeabattlehonour.Histrouserswereofthedeepestblack,andhispatentbootsgleamedlikenew.

Emilhadstifledalaughatthesightofhim,butRobouteknewbetterthananyofthemhowmuchappearances, protocol and expectation mattered; especially to an organisation like the AdeptusMechanicus.Hisfirstofficerstoodathisright,withAdaraSiavashathis left,bothcladintheirbestbraidedjacketsandpolishedboots.Bothmenlookedacutelyuncomfortabledressedinclotheshauledfromfootlockersonceinabluemoon,butRoboutehadtoldtheminnouncertaintermsthattheyweregoingtomeettheirpatronlookingthepart.

Betweenthem,EmilandAdaracarriedthestasischest,asmooth-finishedboxofmattblackwithauniquely crafted lock that could only be opened by Roboute himself. The lock had been crafted by

Yrlandriar ofAlaitoc, and itsworthwas beyond imagining. It hadbeen Ithandriel’s gift toRoboutewhenhehadleftIsha’sNeedle,agifthestillfeltunworthytopossess.

What laywithin thechestcouldearnRobouteandhiscrewa fortune theycouldn’t spend in tenlifetimes.Hecouldn’tspeakfortheothers,butitwasn’tthedesireforwealththathadledRoboutetoLexellKotov.The artefact in the stasis chestheld the solution to amystery thathad long vexed thepriestsofMars, amystery that spoke toRoboute’s romantic soulandmadeall the risks inherent intheirlatestventureworthwhile.

‘Shallwe?’askedEmil,whenRoboutedidn’tmove.‘Yes,’hesaid,passingoffhishesitationaswonderment.‘Tideandtimewaitfornoman,eh?’Awaiting them at the base of the crew ramp was a detachment of dangerous looking men in

vitreous black armour with heavy-gauge rifles held across their broad chests. Coiling power lineslinked the tesla-chambers of their weapons with heavy backpacks that thrummed with electricalpower, and each warrior’s face was an impassive mix of square jaws, uncaring eyes and plastekimplantsfeedingthemtacticalinformation.Eachbreastplatewasmachine-stampedwiththeimageofaskullandlightningbolt.Aclanemblemorguildsymbol?

In thecentreof theknotof skitarii, anadeptof theMechanicusawaited them,a tall figure inavoluminoussurpliceofredandgold,hoodedandwithonlymultiplespotsofgreenlightbeneathhishood to give any hint of a face. The adept’s limbs were elongated and ribbed with hissing ochrecabling,andabarrel-likedrumofiridescentliquidwasfittedtohisback.Anumberofgene-dwarfedlackeysswathedinvulcanisedrubbersmocksandred-tintedgogglesattendedtothepulsingtubesthatdistributedthefluidaroundhissystem.

‘Isthathim?’askedEmil,sottovoce.Robouteshookhishead,tryingnottoshowhisirritationthattheyhadnotbeenmetbyArchmagos

Kotovhimself.Whoeverthiswas,hewasclearlyanadeptofsomerank,butthathewasnottheleaderoftheExploratorFleetwasanonetoosubtlereminderoftheexpedition’shierarchy.

Hemarchedtowardsthemagos,andhispractisedeyecaughttheskitariiwarriorstensing, theirtargetingaugmeticsfollowinghiseverymovement.Hehadnodoubtthatifhewasstupidenoughtomake amove for the gold-chased ceremonial pistol holstered at his hip, theywould gunhimdownwithoutasecondthought.

‘AveDeusMechanicus,’saidthemagosashereachedthebottomoftheramp.‘IamRobouteSurcouf,’hesaid.‘ButyouarenotArchmagosKotov.’‘Situationalupdate:ArchmagosKotovwasdetainedby important fleetmatterspertainingtoour

imminentbreakfromhighanchor,’explainedthetech-priestinaperfectlymodulatedrecreationofahumanvoicethatstillmanagedtosoundgratingandfalse.‘Hesendshisapologies,andrequiresthatyouaccompanymetotheAdamantCiborium.’

Roboutedidn’tmovewhenthemagosindicatedthatheshouldfollowhim.‘Isthereaproblem?’askedtheadept.‘Whoareyou?’askedRoboute.‘IliketoknowthenameofthepersontowhomIamspeaking.’‘Yes, of course. Introductions. Familiarity brought about by recognition of identifiers,’ said the

magos, drawing himself up straighter. ‘Identify: I amTarkis Blaylock,HighMagos of theCebrenia

Quadrangle,FabricatusLocumoftheKotovExploratorFleetandRestoratiUltimusoftheSchiaparelliSorrow.Ihaveextensivetitles,CaptainSurcouf,doyourequiremetorecitethemallforyou?’

‘No, thatwon’t be necessary,’ said Roboute, turning andwalking back up the crew ramp of theRenard.HewavedatEmilandtheothers.Knowingwhentofollowhislead,theyreversedtheircourseandreturnedtotheshipwithhim.

‘Captain?’saidMagosBlaylockinconfusion.‘Whatareyoudoing?ArchmagosKotovrequiresyourpresence.Theexpedition’sdeparturecannotbedelayed.’

Roboute paused halfway up the ramp, relishing Pavelka’s look of horror at his breach ofMechanicusprotocol.EnginseerSylkwoodhadaroguishgrinplasteredacrossher face,andhegaveheraslywinkbeforefacingBlaylockonceagain.

‘I think you and Archmagos Kotov are forgetting that without me and my crew, there is noexpedition,’ said Roboute, rapping his knuckles on the top of the chest. ‘Without this artefact, thisexpedition is over before it begins, so I’ll have a measure of recognition of that fact and a bit ofdamned respect. Your voice may be artificially rendered, Magos Blaylock, but I can still tell whensomeonewhothinkshe’sclevererthanIamistalkingdowntome.’

Blaylockcrossedhiscabledarmsinanapproximationofanaquila,agesturenodoubtintendedtomollifythecaptain,andboweddeeply.

‘Apologies,CaptainSurcouf,’saidBlaylock.‘Nodisrespectwasintended,thefailingissimplyoneofunfamiliarity. It has been thirty-five point seven three nine years since I last had dealingswith anindividual not of the Cult Mechanicus. I simply assumed you would have read my identity in thenoosphere. Had we conversed in the binaric purity of lingua-technis, such ambiguity andmisunderstandingcouldhavebeenavoided.’

Emilwhisperedtohimoutofthecornerofhismouth. ‘Evenwhenthey’reapologisingtheycan’tresistabarb.’

Robouterubbedahandacrosshisfacetohidethegrinthatthreatenedtosurface.‘PerhapsIshouldtrytolearnyourlanguage,’saidRoboute.‘Toavoidfuturemisunderstandings.’‘Thatcouldbearrangedwithsomesimpleaugmeticsurgery,’agreedBlaylock.‘Thatwasajoke,’saidSurcouf,returningtothebottomofthecrewramp.‘Isee,’saidBlaylock.‘ItisalltooeasytoforgetthewaysofthosenotjoinedtotheMachine.’‘ThenIsuggestyoureacquaintyourselfwithourillogicalways,’snappedRoboute.‘Otherwisethis

isgoingtobeaveryshortexpedition.’Blaylocknodded.‘Ishallendeavourtorectifymyunderstandingofourdifferingways.’‘Thatwould be a start,’ said Roboute, as Blaylock turned his attention to the stasis chest being

carriedbetweenEmilandAdara.Thegreenlightsbeneathhishoodnarrowedtheirfocus.‘May I see the item?’heasked–witha casual tone,but evenone so transformedbymechanical

additionstohisbiological formcouldn’tquiteconceal theall-consumingdesire toexaminewhat laywithinthechest.

‘Ithinknot,’saidRoboute.‘Ascommanderofthisexpedition,itseemsonlyfittingthatArchmagosKotovbethefirsttoexaminethedevice,don’tyouthink?’

‘Of course,’ replied Blaylock, quick to hide his bitter disappointment. ‘Yes, absolutely. The

ArchmagosExploratorshouldhavethathonour.’‘Thenyou’dbettertakeustohim,’saidRoboute.‘Immediately.’

After being shunted alongmass-conveyor rails and swung over abyssal chasms by servitor-crewedloaderrigs,Abrehemfeltaheavythumpastheircontainerwasatlastdepositedwithanairoffinality.Ceiling-mounted illuminators burst to life and the rearwall of the container rumbled forwards onprotesting gears, inexorably flushing the human cargo out onto industrially stamped metal deckplates.

Containersidenticaltotheirsstretchedoutleftandright,hundredsorperhapseventhousandsofthem.Crowdsofbewilderedlookingmenandwomenmilleduncertainlyaroundthem,blinkingintheharshlightandlookingfearfullyforanythingthatmightgivethemcomfort.

Abrehemtriedtohidehisamazementatthespaceinwhichtheystood,butfailedmiserably.Avaststeelclifffaceofawallstretchedupintodarknessbeforethem,awrithingcollectionofpipes

and ductwork spiralling across its surface like exposed arteries to shape the black and white IconMechanicus.Steampouredfromoneeyeofthegreatskullatitscentreandafurnace-redlightpulsedfrombehindtheother.Stained-glasswindowsranthefull lengthofthewalls,bathingthesceneinasurrealblendofmulti-colouredlights.

Vaststatuesofwingedadeptsandmachine-cherubsfilleddeepalcovesandenormouscylindricalpipeshungfromtheceilingonperilouslythinstrandsofcabling.Powerfulwavesofheatsweatedfromthem.Coolantgasesventedfromgrillesalongtheir length,andAbrehemcaught theacrid,chemicaltangofplasmaventing.Athuddingrumblevibratedthroughthedeckplates,andheguessedthevastengine compartmentswere closeby.Toweringpistonspumped likedrilling rigs at the edgesof thechamber,andthesquealofmetalonmetalechoedintimewiththeancientheartbeatofthevessel.

Vastmachines filled the chamber, towering stacks of black iron, rotating cogs, pumpingmetallimbsandhissingfluesthatburpedplumesofcausticgases.Standingbeforethefrontrankofthesemachineswereahundredwarriorsencasedinthesameblack,beetle-glossarmourwornbythemenwho’d taken Ismael away. Bare-armed to better display their guild tattoos and implanted muscleenhancers, theycarriedamixtureof vicious shockmauls, shot-cannonsandwhips.Facelessbehindblackhelms,theywerefearsomekillers,psychopathsyokedbyirondisciplineanddevotion.

‘Skitarii,’saidAbrehem,andthemenwithinearshotflinchedattheword.They’d all heard the stories of the mortal footsoldiers of the Adeptus Mechanicus, former

Guardsmen enhancedwith allmanner of implants, both physical andmental, to render them intoremorselesskillersandzealousprotectorsoftheholyartefactsoftheirtech-priestmasters.Littlebetterthanferalwildmen,theyweresaidtodecoratetheirarmourwiththeskinofthosetheyhadslainandcollecttrophyracksofenemywarriors’skulls.

Sothestorieswent,butthesemenlookednothinglikethestories.They looked like pitiless, highly disciplined warriors against whom only a SpaceMarinemight

hopetoprevail.Arrangedinorderedrankslikerobots,therewasverylittleofthesewarriorsthatcouldbedescribedasferal.Ahundredbootsslammeddowninunisonastheskitariisnappedtoattention

andagrav-platedescendedintotheirmidstfromtheenormousskull.A rippling energy haze surrounded the edges of the plate, and a reverberant hum filled the

chamberas ithovereda fewmetresabovethedeck.Twofiguresstoodsidebysideontheplate; thelarger of the pair clad in armour similar to that worn by the skitarii, though much more heavilyornamentedandaugmented.Theotherworehoodedvestmentsofdeepcrimson,aroundwhichhungablackandgoldstolewithcog-toothededges,acid-etchedwiththesixteenlawsinahostofnumericallanguages. A heavy generator pack clamped around his torso like an murderous arachnid, and aswirlinghazeoffreezingairswirledaroundthemachinepriestliketrappedmist.Abrehehmfeltcoldjustlookingathim.

Withastart,herecognisedthemagosfromJoura, theonedirectingthecollarmen.Thiswasthemanwho’dtornhimfromhisoldlife,andabrightnuggetofhatredtookholdinhisheart.

‘Whodoyousupposetheyare?’askedCoyne.‘Canyoutell,Abrehem?’askedHawke.‘I’m trying to,’ he said. ‘But it’snot easy.The sheer volumeofdatabeing inloadedandexloaded

fromtheirfloodstreamseverysecondisimmense...’‘Listentohim,’sneeredHawke.‘You’dthinkhewasoneofthem.’Abrehem ignored the sniping remark and concentrated on the two figures as the Mechanicus

adeptinreddriftedtothefrontofthegrav-plate.Noosphericdatacascadedinawaterfallofinvisiblelightabovehisheadinahaloofradiance,andtheinformationAbrehemsought–thoughembeddedonhiseveryinload–wasdifficulttoread.

‘Saiixek,’saidAbrehem.‘Thebastard’scalledSaiixek.’Aburstofwhatsounded likestaticeruptedfromunseenspeakerhorns,deafeningandabrasive.

Thedistortionsqualledandsquealed likeabadly-tunedvox-casteruntilAbrehemfinallyrealisedthemagoswas speaking to them.Gradually, the staticdiminishedand thewords came through, as themagosfinishedhispronouncementinunintelligiblemachinelanguageandswitchedtohisfleshvoice.

‘Informational:IamMagosSaiixek,MasterofEngines,’hebegan,hisvoiceartificialanddevoidofanyhuman inflection. ‘Youhavebeenbrought to theAdeptusMechanicusvessel,Speranza.This isagreathonour.EveryoneofyouisnowbondedtothePriesthoodofMarsandyourservicewillallowthegreatmachinesof this vessel to function.Byyour exertionswill thegreat enginesburnhotter thanstars.Byyourbloodwilltheship’swheelsandgearsbegreased.Bythestrengthinyourboneswillthemightypistonsempoweritsgreatheartanditsfistsoflight.YourlivesnowservetheOmnissiah.’

‘As far as inspiring speeches go, I’veheardbetter,’ saidHawke, and a ripple of gallows laughterspreadthroughthemenandwomenoftheircontainer.

TheshoulderofSaiixek’srobetwitchedandaseriesofwhirring,reticulatedarmsemergedfromanumber of concealed folds. They clicked and snapped as they unfolded, each one terminating inunfolding metallic grips, tools and needle-like appendages that looked more like instruments oftorturethanengineeringmanipulators.

Theplatedescended to thedeck,and the figure inblacksteppeddown.Nowthathewason thesame level as thenewly-arrivedmenandwomen,Abrehemsawhis shoulderswerealmost absurdlyoversized. Augmented with mechanical prosthetics, muscle enhancers and numerous weapon

implants,thewarriorwasashulkingastheSpaceMarinesweresaidtobe.Hecarriedalongpolearm,its top surmountedbya serratedbladeand itsbase fittedwitha clawedenergypod thepurposeofwhicheludedAbrehem,butwhichwasnodoubtintendedtocauseharm.

Theman’sskullwasahairlessorb,thefronthalfpallidandwaxen,therearencasedinbronzeandsilver.His teethweregleamingandmetallic,anda red-gold IconMechanicuswasembedded in thecentre of his forehead. This was no skitarii chieftain, this was a tech-priest, but one unlike anyAbrehemhadseenbefore.

Thewarrior-magos stoppeddirectly in frontofHawkeand regardedhim througheyeswith theglassy sheen of artificiality. Abrehem recognised high-end implants, sophisticated targetingmechanisms,threatanalysersandcombatvector-metrics.He’donlyeverheardofqualitylikethatonhigh-rankingMechanicusadepts.

Theman’sheadtwitchedinAbrehem’sdirection,nodoubtreadingthepassiveemanationsofhisown augmetics. His exposed flesh was wet with chemical unguents and hot oil lubricants. Theadditional limbspartlyconcealedbeneathhisblackcloakweresheenedblackiron.QuicklyAbrehemwasdismissedasathreat,andthewarrior-magosleaneddownoverHawke,easilyametretallerthanhim.Hislipcurledinasneerashereadhisbiometricdatafromthefealtybrand.

‘Hawke,Julius,’hesaidinavoicethatsoundedlikecrushedgravel.‘Atroublemaker.’‘Me,sir?No,sir,’saidHawke.‘Itwasn’taquestion,’saidthebrutishfigure.Hawkedidn’treplyandcontinuedtostareatapointjustoverthewarrior’sshoulder,whichwasno

meanfeatgiventheheightdifferencebetweenthem.Hawke’sfaceassumedaslack,vacantexpression,commontoallsoldiersoflowrankwhenfacinganiratesuperiorofficer.

‘IamDahan,SecutoroftheSkitariiGuildsaboardtheSperanza,’saidthebrutalgiant.‘Doyouknowwhatthatmeans;Hawke,Julius?’

‘No,sir,’answeredHawke.‘ItmeansthatIhavethepoweroflifeanddeathoveryou,’saidDahan.‘Itmeansyourbiometrics

havebeenrecordedandfiled.Whereveryouareandwhateveryouaredoing,Iwillknowit.Idestroytroublemakerslikeyouwithouteffort,andIhaveathousandmenwhowouldhappilydoitforme.Doyouunderstandyourplaceaboardthisship?’

‘Sir,yes,sir,’respondedHawke.Dahan turned away, but instead of retuning to the hovering grav-plate andMagos Saiixek, he

marchedtojoinhiswarriors.Abrehemletoutapent-upbreath,butHawkejustgrinnedasthehulkingwarriordeparted,leavingonlythefaintreekofhischemicalanointments.

MagosSaiixekresumedspeakingasDahanjoinedtheranked-upskitarii.‘Eachofyouhasbeenbrandedwithauniqueidentifier,indicatingwhichhonouredtaskyouhave

beenallottedaboardtheSperanza.Movetotheendofthischamber,whereyouwillbedirectedtoyourstoragefacilityandinstructedonhowtocarryoutyourduties.’

Thevox-grillesbarkedasarotatingseriesofbinariccantsandrecitationsinHighGothicfilledthechamber.Abrehemcouldonlycatchtheoddwordhereandthere;enoughtoknowthathewashearingmachinehymnsinpraiseoftheMachine-God,butnotenoughtomakemuchsenseofit.

‘Well,thatwasinteresting,’saidHawke.‘Thor’sblood,Ithoughtthatskitariimagoswasgoingtokillyou,’saidCoyne,hisskinglistening

withsweat.‘Didyouseethebloodysizeofhim?’‘I’ve seen his type a hundred times before,’ saidHawke, raising his voice just enough for those

nearbytohearhim.‘Thetrickistonevermakeeyecontactandonlysayyesorno.ThatgotmethroughtenyearsofserviceintheGuard,andyoucanhavethatoneforfree,lads!’

Warysmilesgreetedhiscomment,butAbrehemkepthisexpressionneutralasthevast ironclifffacebeforethemsplitdownitsmiddlewithaboomofdisengaginglocks.Thegrinningskullslidaparton friction-dampened rails as the ranks of skitarii warriors turned with a thunder of boots. TheymarchedasideastheenormousdoorbeforethenewestcrewmembersoftheSperanzaopenedtorevealaseriesofironworkchannels,likefunnelsusedtoguidelivestocktotheslaughterman’sknife.

Glowingred light shone frombeyond thevastgateway,and the fireofvoracious furnaces,ever-thirstyplasmaenginesandhungryweaponbatteriesawaitedthem.

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Sitting high in the cupola of his faithful Hellhound, Captain BlayneHawkins watched the loadingoperations of the 71st Cadian (detached formation) with exasperation.His soldiers had transferredfromwarzonetowarzoneoftenenoughthatthemovementofanentireregimentwassomethingthesupportcorpscouldusuallymanagewithadegreeoffinesse.Movingtencompaniesshouldhavebeenchild’splay.

ButthiswasthefirsttimetheyhadembarkeduponaMechanicusvessel.A degree of belligerent co-operation existed between the crews of Navy carrier vessels and the

Guard units they were transporting, but no such bond, begrudged or otherwise, was in evidencebetweentheCadiansandtheAdeptusMechanicuslogisters.Nearlyahundredarmouredvehiclesweresnarled in the embarkation deck, engines throbbing and filling the air with the blue-shot fug ofexhaustfumes,whileCadiansupplyofficersandMechanicusdeckcrewarguedoverthebestmeansofuntanglingthelog-jammedvehicles.

Hisdriverswerewellpractisedinthebestwaytomanoeuvretheirtanksintoberthingholds,buttheMechanicus logisters had different ideas. It hadn’t taken long until a couple of squadrons hadbecomeentangledandanumberofvehiclesinevitablycollided.Intheensuinganarchy,aLemanRussthrewatrackandapairofHellhoundshadbroadsidedoneanotheraseachdriverreceivedconflictingorders.

‘Emperordamnit,we’resupposedtobeintheberthinghangarbynow,’hesnapped,clamberingfromthehatchandswinginghis legsoutover the tank’s forward turret.Fresh facedandyoung,byother regimental standards, to hold a captaincy, Hawkins had earned his stripes as a warrior andcommander by the timehe’d left the violet-litworld ofCadia, and had only gone on to cement hisreputationasatenaciousandcompetentofficerintheyearssinceleavinghishomeworldforgood.

Hawkinsdroppedtothedeck,feelingtherumbleofthemightystarship’senginesthroughthesolesofhisboots.HewasusedtothescaleofNavybulkhandlers,buttheSperanzawasmanytimesgreaterthananyvesselheorhismenhadberthedin.Eachstarshiphaditsownsound,itsownfeelanditsownsmell.HerememberedThor’sLight;ithadreekedoffycelineandalmondsfromitstimeasanordnancecarrier. Azure Halo always smelled of wet permacrete, and the internals of Maddox Hope had

inexplicablydrippedwithmoistureasthoughitsverysuperstructurewasmelting.Hekneltandplacedhispalmonthedeckplates,feelingtheimmensepresenceofthestarship,a

basshumofincrediblepowerandage.Thisshipwasold,olderthantheshipsoftheNavy,whichhadalreadysailed for thousandsofyears.ColonelAndershadhinted that thevessel’skeelhadbeen laiddownbeforetheancientcrusadetoreunitethefragmentedworldsofMen,butwherehe’dlearnedthatparticularnugget,hehadn’telaborated.

Hawkinscouldwellbelieveittobetrue.Unbreakablestrengthrestedintheship’sancientbones,yetdespite itsobviousage, therewasanewness to theship thatbelied itsunimaginablescale. It feltwelcoming,soperhapsthismessofentangledvehicleswasn’tthebadomenhefeared.

‘Rae, get down here,’ he yelled, knowing his adjutant wouldn’t be far away. Taybard Raewas aveteran lieutenant of the regiment, a stalwart of the company and a man without whose steadypresencemanyabattlelinemighthavebuckled.HawkinsrosetohisfullheightasRaeappearedfrombehindanidlingChimera,hisuniformalreadycrumpledanduntidy.Hawkinshadwatchedafreshly-presseduniformbecomecreasedandlookinglikeithadjustbeenthroughabattleinthetimeittookRaetowalkfromthebarrackstotheparadeground.

‘BloodyMechanicusmeddlingifeverIsawit,’saidRae.‘Lookslikeit,’agreedHawkins.‘Thecolonelonboardyet?’‘I hope not,’ said Hawkins, setting off through the press of tightly-packed armoured vehicles,

towardsthesourceofthehold-up.‘Iwanttogetthissortedbeforeheseesthisdamnmess.’‘Good luckwith that,’ said Rae. ‘I’ve just been up front. There’s three tanks jammed in the link

tunneltotheberthinghold,andeveryoneelseisrammedtightuptheirarses.It’sgoingtotakehourstogetthemuntangled.’

‘Where’sCallins?He’ssupposedtokeepthingslikethisfromhappening.’‘ArguingwiththeMechanicuslogisters.It’snotpretty.’‘I’msure.’‘RememberthattimewiththosegreenskinsandtheogrynsonPeolosia?Wheretheyjuststoodand

poundedoneachotheruntiltheybothdropped?It’slikethat,butwithoutthefinesse.’Hawkinsswore,carefullynegotiatingthenarrowpathsbetweentrappedLemanRussbattletanks,

idlingSalamandersandtheregiment’ssignatureHellhoundtanks.Hawkinsapproachedthesoundofarguingvoices,histemperfrayingwitheverystep.HeduckedunderthesponsonmountofKasr’sFist,aLemanRussDestroyerwithnumerouskillmarkingsetchedintoitspockmarkedhull.Stillpaintedinthe urban camouflage of Baktar III’s ruined industrial wastelands, its rightmost lascannon waswedged tightly against the hull ofCreed’s Pride and a number of the rivets holding it in place hadbuckledagainstthepressure.

‘Thecolonel’snotgoingtolikethat,’saidRae,examiningthepoppedseamsalongtheedgeofthesponsonmount.

Adark-coatedsupplycorpsofficerwasarguingwithanumberofMechanicus logisters inbrightrobesandabulked-outmachine-skullatthefrontofthetank.TheMechanicusadeptsweregesturingwith green-lit illuminator wands and barking commands in vox-amped irritation, but the Cadian

supplyofficerwasgivingasgoodashegot.MajorJahnCallinswasattheheartoftheargument,andHawkinsdidn’tenvythe logistersthefull forceofhiswrath.He’dseencolonelsandgeneralsretreatwiththeirtailsbetweentheirlegsinthefaceofCallins’sbluntproceduralanger.

SurelyalowlyMechanicusadepthadnochance?Callinswas a granite-faced veteran fromKasr Fayn, a no-nonsense supply officerwho innately

understood the operational needs of the regiment. Never in all Hawkins’s years of service had heknown any unit of the 71st to run out of ammo, food or any other essential supply. To gauge theattritionofsupplieswasasmuchanartformasaccountancy,andCallinsunderstoodthemonstrousappetiteofwarbetterthananyone.

‘What’sthehold-up,major?’askedHawkins,straighteninghispalegreyuniformjacket.Callins sighed andwaved an irritated hand at the logisters. As amajor, Callinswas technically

Hawkins’ssuperior,butCadianfightingranksoftenassumedsenioritywhileonactiveservice.‘Theseidiotsaretryingtogetusdirectedbymassanddimensions,’saidCallins,almostspittingthe

words.‘Theywanttheheaviesinfirst.’‘Tobetterdistributetheaccumulatedcargo loads,’saidthe logister,arobedmanwithiron-faced

cognitive augmetics grafted to the side of his skull. He carried a battered data-slate, which herepeatedly tapped with a tapered stylus. ‘AMechanicus vessel has to be loaded in a specificmass-distributionpatterntoensureoptimalinertialcompensationefficiency.’

‘I understand that,’ said Callins. ‘But if you load our heavies on first, it’s going to slow ourdisembarkation.Theheaviesgo in last so thebiggunscomeout first.Basic ruleofwarfare, that is.Listen,whydon’t you let thebigboyswhoactuallydo the fighting sort outhowwewantour tanksloadedandwe’llallgetonsomuchbetter.’

‘You proceed on a fallacious assumption,’ said the logister. ‘With Mechanicus loading andunloadingprotocolsandrapidtransitrigs,Iassureyouthatourproceduresarefasterthanyours.’

CallinsturnedtofaceHawkins,throwinghishandsupinexasperation.‘YouseewhatIhavetodealwith?’

‘Letmeseethat,’saidHawkins,holdinghishandoutforthelogister’sdata-slate.‘GuardcaptainsarenotauthorisedtoconsultMechanicusprotocols,’saidthelogister.‘Justgivehimthedamnslate,’saidavoicebehindHawkins,andeveryCadianwithinearshotstood

toattention.‘IhavetheauthorityandIwantthishellishsnarl-updealtwithrightbloodynow.Isthatunderstood?’

ColonelVenAndersemergedfromthetangledsnarlofvehicles,resplendentinhisdressgreys,aslightlymore formal lookingensemble thanthatofaGuardsman.Only thebronzerankpinsonthestarchedcollarofhisuniformjacketanditselaboratecuffsgaveanyindicationthathewasanofficerof high rank.Hisdark, close-croppedhairwas kepthiddenbeneath a forager cap, andhis smooth,patricianfeatureswerehandsomeinthewaythatonlygoodbreedingandahealthydietcouldsculpt.

Twocommissarscameafterhim,theirblackstormcoatsandgleamingpeakedcapslookingraggedandshabbynexttothecasualeaseofthecolonel’sdress.BothmenwereunknowntoHawkins,recenttransfers to the company after Commissar Florian’s death, but he instinctively held himself a littletalleratthesightofthem.

The logister immediately handed the slate over, and Hawkins quickly scanned the reams ofinformation;ladingrates,berthcapacityandlifterspeeds.Thoughmuchofthedatawastoocomplextoeasilydigestor superfluous tohisneeds,heunderstood that theMechanicus systemwould, in alllikelihood,bequickerthantheCadianwayofdoingthings.

‘Well?’askedAnders.‘It looksgood,’saidHawkins,handingtheslateovertoCallins. ‘Inmostcircumstances,I’dagree

withwhateverthemajorwantedtodo,butinthiscase,Ithinkweoughttogowiththis.’Callinsscannedthedata-slateandHawkinssawthereluctantacceptanceofhiswordsasheranthe

numbers.‘Canyoureallymovethesetanksthisfast?’askedCallins.‘Those margins of efficiency are at maximum tolerances,’ explained the logister. ‘With non-

Mechanicuscargo,weallowextratime-slippagefordispersementprocedures.’‘Isheright?’askedAnders.‘Cantheygetusloadedfast?’Callinssighed.‘Iftheycanhitthesenumbers,yes.’‘That’sallIneedtoknow,’saidthecolonel,takingtheslatebackfromCallinsandhandingittothe

logister.‘Adept,youmayproceed.Dowhatyouneedtodotogetmytanksberthed.Howlongwillyourequiretocompleteloadingoperations?’

Thelogisterdidn’tanswer,ashimmerofdata-lightflickeringbehindhiseyes.‘Forty-sixminutes,’saidthelogisterasthelightfaded.‘Ihavejustinloadedastatisticalschematic

ofmovementpatternsfromMagosBlaylockthatwillallowthesevehiclestobeseparatedwithminimaleffortifyouwillpermitmymentoworkunhindered.’

‘Doit,’saidAnders,addressinghiswordsasmuchtohisownsoldiersastheMechanicusadepts.‘Youhavemyassurance thatyouwillhave the full co-operationofeveryCadian footslogger, tanker,flame-whipandditch-diggerundermycommandinallmatters.’

The logistergaveashortbowand issuedaseriesoforders tohisdeckcrewinstaccatoblurtsofmachine language. Inmoments, overhead lifter rigs descended from the distant ceiling to lift outthose vehicles that prevented others from moving. Hawkins, Rae, Anders, Callins and the twocommissarshastilymovedoutofthewayandwatchedwithadmirationastheGordianknotoftangledvehicleswasgradually transformed intoanorderlystreamof rumblingarmour.Hellhounds,LemanRuss,Sentinelsandahostofothervehiclesroaredpastontheirwaytotheirassignedberths.

‘Okay,they’renotbad,’concededCallins.‘Right,nowthatourvehiclesarebeingstowed,let’sseeaboutgettingthemensquaredaway,’said

Anders.‘Dowethinkwecanmanagethatwithoutgettingthemlost?’‘Yes,sir,’saidHawkins.‘Right, get it done,Blayne,’ orderedAnders. ‘ArchmagosKotov awaits, and I can’t be stuckhere

makingsureeverysoldier’sgotabunk.’‘No,sir,’Hawkinsassuredhim.‘We’llbeinplacebeforeyougetback,squaredawayandreadyfor

orders.’‘Good,makesureofit,’saidAnders.‘Givethemanhourtobedinthengetthemrunningweapons

drills.Iwanteverythingfivebyfivebeforewebreakorbit.Isthatclear?’

‘Crystal,’saidHawkins.‘Beggingyourpardon,ColonelAnders,’saidRae.‘Isittruewhatwe’vebeenhearing?‘Whathaveyoubeenhearing,lieutenant?’saidAnders.Raeshrugged,asthoughsuddenlyunwillingtosaywhathe’dheardforfearoflookingfoolish.‘Thatwe’llbefightingalongsideSpaceMarines,sir.’‘Therumourmill’sbeeninoverdrive,Isee,’repliedAnders.‘Butisittrue,sir?’‘SoI’mgiventounderstand,lieutenant,’saidAnders.‘SpaceMarinesoftheBlackTemplars,though

Ihaven’tseenorheardwhetherthat’strulythecase.’‘BlackTemplars...’saidRae.‘Makessense,Isuppose.Afterall,we’recrusadingoutintounexplored

space,aren’twe?Yeah,Ilikethesoundofthat.We’rebloodycrusaders.’ColonelAndersgrinnedandgaveaquicksalutetohisofficersbeforestridingoffinthedirectionof

one of the embarkation deck’s transit hubs, where bullet-shaped capsules paused to pick up ordisgorgepassengersbeforeshootingthroughtheSperanzaatincrediblespeeds.

WithAndersgone,Hawkinssaid,‘Youheardthecolonel,we’vetencompaniesoftiredandirritablesoldiers togetbunkeddownandready forweapondrillsand inspection.Callins,Rae, see to it.TheMechanicusmighthaveshownusupwhenitcomestomovingmachineryaround,butI’llbedamnedifthey’lldoitwhenitcomestomovingsoldiers.’

Hesnappedhisfingers.‘Move!’heordered.

Incense smoke fogged the innermost sanctum of the rapid strike cruiserAdytum, and the bannershangingfromthewidearchesofsurroundingcloistersswunggentlywiththepassageofthewarriorsbeneath.SixSpaceMarinesof theBlackTemplars,armoured inplatesof thedeepest jetandpurestwhite,marchedalongthenavetowardsthegreatslabofanaltaratitsend.Torchlightreflectedfromthecurvesoftheirwarplate,andcaughtthehardchipsoftheireyes.

AgiantfigureencasedinbulkyTerminatorarmourstoodlikeanobsidianstatuebeforethealtar,hisshouldersbulkedoutwith the tannedhideof thegreatdragon-creaturehehadslainonhis firstcrusade. A golden eagle spread its wings over his enormous chest, where rested a gold and silverrosettewithablood-redgematitsheart.

Hisgloweringhelm, fashioned in the formofabone-white skullwith coal-redeye-lenses,wasarictusdeathmaskthatwasthelastthingcountlessenemiesoftheEmperorhadseenastheydied.Inoneoversizedgauntlet,thecolossalwarriorboreagreat,eagle-wingedmaul,hisinstrumentofdeathandbadgeofofficeallinone.

ThiswastheReclusiarchoftheScarCrusade,andhisnamewasKulGilad.ThesixTemplarshaltedbeforeKulGiladanddroppedtotheirknees.Theycarriedtheirhelmsin

the crook of their arms, five black, one white, and all kept their heads bowed as the Reclusiarchstepped down to themarble-flagged floor of the sanctum. Robed acolytes and neophytes emergedfrombehindthealtarandsanghymnsofbattleandgloryastheytookuppositioneithersideofthe

Reclusiarch.Mostwere acolyte-serfs of theChapter, but onewas aneophyte, andhebore themostreveredartefactaboardtheAdytum.

Maskedand strippedof all insignia tokeep theweaponhe carried fromknowinghisname, theneophyteboreaswordofimmenseproportions.SheathedinanunbreakableblackscabbardofanalloyunknownbeyondtheslopesofOlympusMons,theleather-wrappedhiltboretheChapter’sflaredcrossemblematitspommel,anobsidianorbsetwithapolishedgarnet.Alongchainhungfromthehandle,readytobefetteredtowhicheverwarrioritwouldchooseasitsbearer.

TheTemplarstooktheirpositionbeforetheReclusiarch,devotional incensecoilingaroundthemas yet more figures emerged from the cloisters. Each of these figures bore a piece of armour; abreastplate,agreave,apauldron,avambrace.Unseenchoirsaddedtheirchantingtothismostsacredmoment,ahundredvoicesthattoldofgreatdeeds,honourablevictoriesandunbreakableduty.

‘YouaretheEmperor’sbladethatsplitsthenight,’saidtheReclusiarch.‘Welighttheflamethatbanishesshadows,’answeredthesixwarriors.‘Youarethevengeancethatneverrests.’‘WecleavetothefirstdutyoftheAdeptusAstartes.’‘Youarethefireoftruththatshinesbrightest.’‘SothePrimarchwilledit,soitshallbedone.’‘TheEmperor’sgiftisyourstrengthandrighteouspurpose.’‘Withitwebringdoomtoourenemies.’‘Yourhonourisyourlife!’‘Letnonedisputeit!’TheReclusiarchdippedthefingersofhislefthandinabrazierofsmoulderingashcarriedonthe

backofahoodedacolyteandmovedbetweenthekneelingwarriors.Thougheachwasgenhancedtobegreater thananymortalwarrior, theReclusiarchdwarfed themall inhisancientsuitofTerminatorarmour.Heanointedeachwarrior’sforeheadwithacrossofblackash,whisperingwordsthatspoketoeachman’ssoul.

BeardedTanna,thesquadsergeant,resoluteandunyieldinginhisdevotion.‘SteelofDornwithinyourbones.’Auiden,theanchorofthesquad.‘CourageofSigismundfillyourheart.’Issurthebladesman,aninspirationtothemall.‘Strengthoftheagesbeyours.’Varda,thequestioner,towhomallmysterieswereasourceoffreshjoy.‘Youcarrythesoulofusall.’Bracha,whohadrecoveredtheCrusaderHelmofthefallenAeliusatDantiumGate.‘HonourofTerrashallbeyourstobear.’Yael,theyoungster,hewhohadbeensingledoutbyHelbrechthimselfasawarriorofnote.‘Learnwellthelessonsofbattle,fortheyareonlytaughtonce.’The unseen choirs raised the tempo and discordance of their chants, filling the sanctum with

hymnsinpraiseoftheEmperorandHissons.Toxicincensethatcouldkillmortalswithasinglebreath

wreathed the floor like marsh fog, and as each warrior stared into the depths of the mists, theyreflectedonthelegacyofheroismthathadgonebeforethem,thegloriouscrusadesoftheirforebearsandtherollofbattleswonandfoesslain.To liveuptosuchapastwasnoeasything,andnoteverywarriorcouldbearsuchaheavyburden.

ButmostofalltheyreflectedontheshameofDantium.Abattlelost...anEmperor’sChampionslain...Andthedoomthatdoggedtheirthoughtssincethatday...TheReclusiarchsteppedbacktothealtaraseachTemplartookdeepbreathsofthechemical-laden

smoke, their lungs filling with the secrets encoded into its molecular arrangement. Only thegenesmithsoftheEternalCrusaderknewtheoriginoftheincense,andonlybytheirstrangealchemycoulditberendered.

KulGiladstudiedthemenbeforehim,eachoneshapedbythousandsofyearsofhistoryandlostartsofgenetics.ThebestandbravestoftheImperium,thestrengthandhonourofthepastwascarvedintotheirverymarrow.ThefearfullossesatDantiumhadshakenthemtotheircore,butthisCrusadewouldbe a chance for them to regain their honour, to prove theirworth to theHighMarshal onceagain and shake off the ill-temper that had settled upon them all. This deployment alongside theAdeptusMechanicuswasnotpunishmentnorpenance,butredemption.

Ghostly imagesofmightywarriorsshimmeredat theedgesofKulGilad’svision,buthe ignoredthem,knowingthemfor thenarcoticphantomstheywere.Hewouldneveragainbe touchedby thevisions, but one among his warriors would certainly feel the power of the Golden Thronemovingwithin him.Whowould be touched by the Emperor’s presence, he could not know, for none couldfathomthecomplexitiesandsubtlenuancesofHiswill.KulGiladsearchedeachman’s face foranysign of a reaction to the fugue-inducing mist, but he could see nothing beyond their stoicdeterminationtocommencethislatestcrusadeintotheunknownandreclaimtheirhonour.

Whenitbegan,itbegansuddenly.Vardarosetohisfeet,reachingouttosomethingonlyhecouldsee.Hiseyeswerewideandhisjaw

fellopeninwonderment.Tearsrandownhischeeksasheweptatasightofraptureorterror.Vardatookafalteringsteptowardsthealtar,hishandgraspingforsomethingjustoutofreach.

‘Isee...’saidVarda.‘Itsbeautyisterrible...Iknow...IknowwhatImustdo.’‘Whatmustyoudo?’askedKulGilad.‘Slay those who have given insult to the Emperor,’ said Varda, his voice betraying a dreamlike

qualitytoitstone.‘Ineedtokillthemall,tobathemybladeinthebloodoftheunclean.Whereismysword?Whereismyarmour...?’

‘Theyarehere,’answeredKulGilad,pleasedthatitshouldbeVardawhowaschosen.Henoddedtothefigureslurkinginthecloistersandtheycameforwardsinpairs,onebearingashardofbattle-plate,theotherempty-handed.TheysurroundedVarda,andpiecebypiece,strippedhimofhisarmouruntilhe stoodonly inhisgreybodyglove.Evenbereft ofhispowerarmour, the strengthofhisbodywaspalpable. And as they had divested him of his old armour, now the figures attired him in his newwarplate.

As eachportionof thegildedandartificer-wroughtarmourwas fastened tohisbody, it seemed

thatVardagrewtofillitscontours,asthoughithadbeenfashionedforhimandhimalone.AtlasthewascladheadtofootintheancientArmourofFaith,andallthatremainedtobefittedwashisownivory-wreathedhelm.Vardareachedupandslid thehelmetoverhishead,clicking it intoplaceandholdingouthishandsinexpectation.

‘Armhim,’saidKulGilad,andtheneophyteathissidemovedtostandbeforethedazedwarrior.Vardatookasteptowardstheboy,whobackedawayinfear.‘Quickly,boy!Givehimthesword,’snappedKulGilad.Itwasnotunknownforawarriorinsucha

fuguestatetoslayanywhocamenearhim,believingthemtobehisenemies.Onlytheswordwouldbring them to their senses. The neophyte held themidnight scabbard out to Varda, who let out ashudderingbreathashekneltbeforetheyoungster.Hecockedhisheadtothesideasthoughseeingsomethingmorethanameresword.

‘Giveittome,’hesaid,andtheneophyteheldthescabbardout,hilt-first.Varda drew the sword, its eternally sharp blade utterly black and etched along its length with

filigreedletteringinthecurlinggothicscriptoftheImperium.Itsbladewas longandheavybeyondthemeansofanymortalsoldiertobear,thehandlelongenoughtoallowittobewieldedbyoneortwohands.KulGiladapproachedVardaandtookholdofthedanglingchain.

HewrappeditaroundVarda’swristandfastenedthefettertohisgauntlet.‘TheBlackSwordisyours,’saidKulGilad.‘Itcanneverbeloosed,neversurrenderedandneverbe

sheathedwithoutbloodfirstbeingshed.Onlyindeathwillitpasstoanother.’KulGiladplacedhishandonVarda’shelmet.‘Rise,Emperor’sChampion,’hesaid.

Themag-levwasafrictionlesstransitsystemthatranaconvolutedcircuitaroundtheinteriorspacesof theSperanza like anetworkofblood vessels arounda livingbeing.Silvered linear induction railssparkedwithe-magpulses,thecarrunningthroughthespacesbetweenbulkheadsatdizzyingspeedsthatmadeRoboute’sheartrace.Onlyaninertialdampeningfieldwithinthecompartmentkeptthemfrombeingcrushedbytheawesomeg-force.AdaraandEmilsateithersideofthestasischestattherear of the bullet-shaped compartment, staring through the smoky glass at the incredible sightspassingbywithmind-numbingrapidity.

MagosPavelkaandEnginseerSylkwoodsatattherearofthecompartmentasBlaylocksteeredthemag-levviaahard-wiredMIUplugthatsocketedintoplacebeneaththenapeofhishood.Hisretinueofdwarfattendantshunkereddownathiskneeslikewell-behavedchildren.ThetwoMagosTychons–fatheranddaughter(thoughsuchanotionstillhadRoboutescratchinghisheadatthelogisticsofhowsuchathinghadcometobe)–satbehindBlaylock.

‘Yousee?’saidEmil.‘Thisishowyougetaroundashipthisbig.Noteleportersrequired.’‘TheSperanzaisfittedwithnumerousteleportchambers,’saidBlaylock.‘Intendedforbothexternal

andinternaluse,thoughtousethemtotravelwithintheboundsoftheshipisconsideredwastefulandonlyeveremployedinemergencies.’

‘Good toknow,’ saidAdara, turning toSylkwood in theback. ‘Anychanceweget something like

thismag-levfittedtotheRenard?’Sylkwood laughed. ‘Whatwould be the point? You canwalk from one end to the otherwithout

breakingsweat.’‘Youcan,’saidAdara.‘You’vegotaugmeticlegs.’Sylkwoodsmiledand lookedaway,admiring thesheerscaleof industrialarchitecturecontained

within the Speranza’s hull. They’d already passed fog-belching refineries, chemical silos, flame-litMachine temples, skitarii barracks, laboratory decks, training arenas, vast power plants withskyscraper-sized generators that spat coils of azure lightning, and building-sized structures thatMagos Blaylock informed them were voltaic capacitors capable of running the vessel’s mechanicalfunctionsforamonth.

Atoweringvehiclehangarwasfilledwithnumerousgargantuancathedralsof industrymountedontrackunitsthesizeofhab-blocks,constructionenginesthatcouldraiseacityinunderadayanddemolitionmachinerycapableoflevellingamoderately-sizedhiveinhalfthat.Foldedsolarcollectorsfilled bay after bay, concertinaed like corrugated fields of black glass entwined with intricate gearmechanismsandloopingarcsofinsulatedpowerrelays.

One hangar was so vast it took them several seconds to traverse its length, but in that time,Robouteandhiscrewcaughtaglimpseofthemightiestwar-enginesoftheAdeptusMechanicus.

The god-machines of Legio Sirius boarded theSperanza, hunched over like age-bowed giants astheyemergedfromtheirtransportswithwaryfootfalls.Eachwar-enginewasatoweringbehemothofdestruction,anavataroftheMachine-GodinhisaspectoftheDestroyer.

‘Titans!’criedAdara,pressinghimselftotheglassatthesightofthecolossalmachines.Oneenginewithsquaredshouldersandlegslikehab-towers–aWarlord–dwarfedtheothers,the

armouredsegmentsofitsgreyandgoldcarapaceshiftingliketime-lapsedcontinentalplatesasittookthunderousstepstowardsitstransitcradle.Suchamachinecouldconquerworldssingle-handedly,itcould laywaste to cities and entire armies. Such amachinewasworthy of worship, and it had noshortage of devotees. Thousands of robed adepts supervised the embarkation of the Mechanicusbattle-engines,eachoneanhonouredservantandagenuflectingdevoteeofthesemobiletemplestodestruction.

Smaller engines followed the Warlord like a hunting pack, a Reaver and a pair of lopingWarhounds.Theirweaponssnappeduptofollowthepassageofthemag-levashowledthreatsbrayedfromtheirwarhorns.

TheTitansweresoonlosttosightasthemag-levpassedthroughametres-thickbulkhead,butitwasn’t long before they caught sight of yet more of the Kotov Expedition’s armed might. Anembarkationdeckswarmedwitharmouredvehicles,caughtinwhatlookedlikeanalmightysnarl-up.Super-heavieswerelockedinwithmainbattletanks,armouredfightingvehiclesandlurchingwalkersthatstoppedandstartedasspaceopenedupforthemtomove.

‘Goodlucksortingthatmessout,’notedEmil,beforetwistinginhisseattogrinatPavelka. ‘Hey,Ilanna,IthoughttheMechanicusdidn’tallowforthingslikethat.’

Pavelkalookeddownatthehopelesslyentangledarmouredregiment.‘They are not Mechanicus,’ she said. ‘Regimental markings identify them as the 71st Cadian

Hellhounds.Fromthedispersalpatternofthegridlockedvehicles,itseemscleartheGuardunitshavenotfollowedMechanicusloadingprotocols.’

‘Perceptiveofyou,MagosPavelka,’saidBlaylock. ‘Ihavejustcompiledastatisticalanalysisofthetrappedvehiclesandexloadedittotherankinglogister.Wouldyoucaretoperuseit?’

Pavelka nodded and Roboute saw a flicker of light behind her eyes as the data packet passedinvisiblybetweenthetwomagi.Pavelka’slipspartedassheprocessedtheinloadedschematics,smilinginappreciationofBlaylock’scalculations.

‘Masterful,’shesaid.‘Thecode-sequencingofthemovementalgorithmsisaworkofart.’BlaylockhadnofaceRoboutecouldsee,buttheemeraldlightbeneathhisvoluminoushoodpulsed

withabinaricacknowledgementofPavelka’shighpraise.Theentangledvehiclesweresoonlosttosightasthemag-levspedonwards,andRoboutenoticed

thecavernoushallstheytravelledwerebecomingmoreornate,lessfunctional.Baresteelandirongavewaytochromeandgold,clankingmachinerytobanksofhummingcogitationprocessionals.Servitorsbecamefewandfarbetween,replacedbyrobedMechanicusadeptsandgagglesoftheirretinues.

If theyhad justpassed through thegutsof theSperanza,nowtheyweredrawingnear itshigherfunctions,thegrandtemplesandtheseatsofsacredknowledge.

‘Cadians,eh?’saidAdarawithanappreciativenod.‘We’retravellinginesteemedcompany.’‘Titans?Cadians?Makesmewonderwhat thisKotov is expecting to findbeyond theHaloScar,’

saidEmil.‘Archmagos Kotov also counts the Adeptus Astartes as part of his Complement of Explorators,’

addedMagosBlaylock.‘HighMarshalHelbrechthimselfsendsabattlesquadofhisfinestwarriorstostandwithMars.’

‘Really?’saidAdara,wide-eyedandalmostburstingwithexcitement.‘Indeed.ThecompactbetweenthePriesthoodofMarsandtheAdeptusAstartesisanancientand

respectedbond,’saidBlaylock.‘TheHighMarshalrecognisesthat.’‘SpaceMarines,’saidSylkwood,leaningbackandlightingalho-stickwithasolder-lanceembedded

inthemetallicfingertipofher lefthand. ‘I’vefoughtalongsideSpaceMarines.Goodtohaveatyourside,butbesttokeepoutoftheirway,Adara.’

‘Whatdoyoumean?’askedtheyoungster.Sylkwoodleanedforwards,restingherelbowsonherkneesassheblewacloudofbluesmoke.‘They’renotlikeus,’shesaid.‘Theymightlooklikeus,sortof,buttrustme,they’renot.Likeasnot,

they’ll ignore you,but if you’re reallyunlucky youmight accidentallyoffendoneandendupon thewrongendofamass-reactive.’

‘Kayrn’sright,’saidRoboute.‘StayawayfromSpaceMarinesifyouknowwhat’sgoodforyou.’‘IthoughtyouUltramartypeswereallabouthowgreatandnobletheSpaceMarinesare?’‘TheUltramarines,maybe,’agreedRoboute. ‘Buteventhey’reastepremovedfromus.Theydon’t

think like us. When you can take pain and inflict harm like a Space Marine, you start to look ateverythingintermsofhowyoucankillit.’

‘When all you have is a bolter and chainsword, everything looks like a target,’ added Emil.‘Roboute’sright,ifthere’sSpaceMarineshere,keepoutoftheirway.’

‘ThereisonlyoneAdeptusAstartesaboardatpresent,’saidMagosBlaylock.‘ReclusiarchKulGiladjoinsuswhilehiswarriorsremainsequesteredaboardtheAdytum.’

‘TheAdytum?’askedRoboute.‘Theirvessel,amodifiedrapidstrikecruiser,designedforsmallerexpeditionaryforces.’‘Ididn’trecallseeingaSpaceMarineidentifierontheorbitalmanifest,’saidEmil.‘TheBlackTemplarshavechosentokeeptheirvesselnoosphericallydark,’explainedBlaylock,not

eventryingtoconcealhisdistasteatsuchanaction.‘ArchmagosKotovhasgrantedthemadegreeof...latitudeinobservingMechanicusprotocols.’

‘IbelievetheirwarriorexpeditionsareknownasCrusades,’saidLinya.‘Just so,Mistress Tychon,’ said Blaylock. ‘Though due to the overtlymartial aspect such a term

mightconferuponourexpedition,ArchmagosKotovisdisinclinedtoemployit.’‘HertitleisMagos,’saidVitaliTychon.‘Isuggestyouuseit.’‘Of course,’ said Blaylock, inclining his head in a gesture of respect. ‘I employed the feminine

honorificsimplytodifferentiatebetweentwoindividualsbearingthetitleofMagosTychon.’‘MistressTychonisanacceptableformofaddress,’saidLinya,acceptingBlaylock’sgesture.RoboutegrinnedandslappedahandonBlaylock’sshoulder,allhardanglesandclickingjoints,as

themag-lev sped towardsagreatgoldencliff face stampedwitha vast IconMechanicus, embossedgears,cogsandreamsofbinarycodeinpraiseoftheOmnissiah.

‘Seemslikeyou’regoingoutofyourwaytooffendpeopletoday,Tarkis,’hesaid.‘Notatall,’ saidBlaylock. ‘Perhapsmortalsneed to learnmoreofourwaysasmuchas Ineed to

learnoftheirs.’Roboutelaughed.‘IthinkyouandIaregoingtogetonfamously.’

Microcontent05

An irising hatch, only fractionally larger than the diameter of the mag-lev, opened in the goldenescarpment, and the speeding compartment punched through into awide processional of polishedsteelandglitteringchrome.Numerousinductionrailsterminatedatanelevatedrostrum,andseveralgentlyhummingmag-levswerealreadyberthedattheterminus.

Arching beams soared overhead, absurdly slender to support such a grand ceiling. Vaulted andcoffered with gold and adamantium, grand artworks in vivid pigments told the history of theMechanicuswithemotiveartistrythatwasoutofkeepingwithwhatRoboutethoughtheknewoftheMartianpriesthood.Betweentessellatedstained-glasswindows,statuestheequalofthegod-machinesinheightflankedthehexagonal-tiledfloor,andlinesofpowersquirmedacrossitspatterning.

Electricityasblood,poweraslife-force.Three transports awaited. Two were elevated sedans, rising high on six articulated limbs, with

narrow-backedchairslikethronesandanelaborately-artificedservitorwithbronzeskinhardwiredtotherear.ThethirdwasabulkyarmouredvehiclebasedontheubiquitousRhinochassis,butmodifiedto be larger and bristing with weapon mounts, strange antennae and numerous blister pods ofunknownfunction.TheaugmentedRhino’shullwasemblazonedwiththesameskull-and-lightning-boltsymbolthatwasstampedontotheskitarii’sbreastplates.

‘Impressive,’saidRoboute,craninghisnecktolookupatthegildedmosaicsandvividlyrenderedmurals.‘Ididn’tthinktheMechanicuswentinforornamentation.’

‘We recognise the need to occasionally display status,’ said Blaylock. ‘It never hurts to remindothersthattheAdeptusMechanicusisanindispensablefacetoftheImperium,onewithalengthyandhonourablehistory.WeareallcogsintheGreatMachine,CaptainSurcouf.’

‘Butsomecogsarebiggerthanothers,eh?’‘ThebuildersoftheSperanzawereofadifferentage,onewheresuchostentationwasthenorm.’‘It’slikeIimaginetheEmperor’spalacetolooklike,’saidAdara.‘This entire vessel is a palace, a temple to theGodofAllMachines,’ saidBlaylock, switchinghis

attentiontotheyoungerman. ‘Itsoperationisanactofdevotion,itsexistenceadisplayoffaithandbelief.ToserveaboardsuchaholylinktothepastistocommunewiththeOmnissiahhimself.’

‘It’sincredible,’saidPavelka.‘We’rehonoured.’‘I’veseengrander,’saidEmil.‘TheTempleofCorrection...nowthat’sarchitecture.’‘Architecture?I’mnottalkingaboutphysicalstructure,’saidPavelka,entrancedbywhatshesaw.‘Thenwhatareyoutalkingabout?’askedEmil.Pavelka shot him a puzzled glance, before remembering that neither Roboute nor Emil could

discernnoosphericdatastreamswhendisconnectedfromtheRenard’sdataengines.‘Theairisalivewithknowledge,’shesaid.‘It’sallaroundus,streamsofinventionandcascadesof

sacred algebraic construction. History, quantum biology, galactic physics, black hole chemistry,monomolecular engineering, fractal algorithms, bio-mechanical cognisance... You could spend adozenlifetimesandyou’donlyeverknowafractionofwhat’scontainedhere.’

‘Icancalculatehowlongitwouldtaketoprocessitallifyoulike,’offeredBlaylock.‘Thankyou,butI’mhappyforittoremainawonderfulmystery,’saidRoboute,climbingontothe

elevatedsedanandsittingononeofthethrones.‘Shallwego?Wedon’twanttokeepthearchmagoswaiting,nowdowe?’

‘Ofcourse,’agreedBlaylock,ascendingtothesedanwithasubtlyalteredgaitthatsuggestedthatwhatever form of locomotion he employed was no longer biological. Emil and Adara joined them,luggingthestasischestbetweenthem,whileMagosTychon,MistressTychon,PavelkaandSylkwoodtook the second. The skitarii warriors took the upgraded Rhino, and its weapon mounts swungsmoothlyupasthecrewrampsslammedshut.

With no audible command being given, the sedans rose to their full height and beganwalkingdownthelengthofthevaultedprocessional.Theirmovementwaslikethatofanocean-goingvesselinagentletidalsway,andRoboutelikedthegrandnatureofthismodeoftransport.Theypassedgildedstatuesofhonouredmagi,andBlaylockregaledthemwiththeiridentitiesandachievements.

HerewasMagosOzimandian,whohadunlockedtheSTCenginefragmentofBetaUmojas,whichhad ledtothefivepercentparadigmshift.Acrossfromhim–orher; itwasoftenhardtotell–wasMagosLatteir,whosearchaeovations in theNeoAlexandrianatom-wasteshaduncovered thebinaryrecordsof theFirstAlgorithmatrix.Latteir stoodshoulder toshoulderwith thestoic formofMagosZimmen, originator of Hexamathic Geometry. Emil and Adara soon lost interest, but Roboutecontinued to feign attention as they rolled and swayed towards a slopingwall at the far endof theprocessional. Angled away from them like a portion of an enormous pyramid’s buried flank, atoweringportalofbrushedsmoke-greysteelledwithin,easilyabletoaccommodatetheheightofeventhelargestbattle-engineandthewidthofatankcompany.

Yetmore cogs andgearswereworked into its surface, but theseweremore than symbolic, androtatedwith smoothprecisionas thedoors swungslowlyoutwards.Gustsofoil-richvapourgustedfromwithin,togetherwithasoftburrofbinaryhymnals.Robouteunderstoodnoneofit,buttheliltingmachinelanguagewasstrangelycomforting.

‘TheAdamantCiborium,’saidBlaylock,revealingtheidentityofthestructureinablurtofbinaryaswellaswithhisfleshvoice.‘ArchmagosKotovawaits.’

ThetitanicstridesofLupaCapitalinaweremeasuredandprecise,themindatthecontrolsoneofcold-edgedwisdom,hard-woninahundredandthirteenengineengagements,includingnineteenagainstmultiplegross-displacementwar-engines.AlphaPrincepsArloLuth,theWintersun,floatedinmilky-grey suspension, his foetal form pale as a spectre and withered like a premature infant. Loopingimplantstrailedfromhisbisectedtorso,asilverwraithtailthatpluggeddirectlyintothebaseofhisspinalcolumnandallowedhimtocontrolthedrivemechanismofhisTitan’slimbs.

Hiseyesweresightlesscataracts, suturedclosedand linkedviaMIUto thesurveyorandauspexsuiteembeddedintheserratedcrownoftheCapitalina.Shesawasapredator,aveteranofthehuntwithscaldingoil forbloodandakeeneyeforaprey’sweakness.Thousandsofchantingtech-priestsandrobedacolytessurroundedher,togetherwithenormousfueltenders,ammunitionhaulersandthehundredsofvehiclesrequiredtokeeptheGod-Machinesinthefield.Thedeckpriestswerehissupportcrew andhisworshippers, devotees come towelcome a living embodiment of their god aboard theSperanza.

Canted binary hymns of greeting boomed from vox-trumpets in the vaulted ceiling, and gentlyswingingcensersthesizeofbattletankscreatedacloud-bankofaromaticoilsthatfelltothedeckinalubricatingrain.SuchawelcomewasaffordedtoonlythemightiestavatarsoftheMachine-God,andchoralchantsoftheLegio’sbattlehonoursanditsheroicprincepsechoedthroughoutthehangaronarepeatingalgorithmiccycle.

Luthhadnotimetobaskintheiradulation,buthedidnotignoreit.Ferromort,theRedRuinationhimself,GrandMasterofSinister,hadsaiditbest.Despise infantry if youmust.Crush themunderfoot, byallmeans.Butdonot ignore them.Battlefieldsare

litteredwiththewreckageofTitanswhosecrewsignoredinfantry.Luthknewfrombitterexperiencehoweasy itwas to forget that thesescurryingcreaturescould

hurthim.Hisarmouredpeltstillborethescarsoftheacids,biliousvenomsanddigestivejuicesofthetyranid swarms that had almost brought him to ruin amid the night-shrouded ice forests of BetaFortanis.Lupa Capitalina rumbled beneath him, and he angrily shook off thememory as he felt itsdispleasure.Noonelikedtoberemindedoftheirdefeats,leastofallaWarlordTitanofLegioSirius.

Hefollowedtheblinkinglightsonthedeck,thetransitcorridorassignedtohimbytheMechanicusdevotionallogistersthatwouldleadthetoweringenginetoitsinertia-cradle.TheCapitalinachafedatbeingsotrammelled,butLuthpressedhiswilldownuponher,cautioningagainstallowingheriretomanifestbeyondafewreactorrumblesandalowgrowlfromherwarhorns.

Theembarkationdeckwasatitanicspace,asbefittedthegod-machinesofLegioSirius,honouredengineswhoseenduringframeshadbeenlaiddowninthepolartemplesoftheVericaVIIforgeworld.Teninertia-cradlesoccupiedthefarwallofthedeck,enormousrestraintsthatwouldcoupletheLegio’senginestotheSperanzaonthelongjourneybetweenthestars,toomanyfortheremainingenginesofSirius.ThatmorethanhalfofthecradleswouldremainemptywasaknifeinLuth’sguts.

JusttosetfootaboardavesselasancientastheSperanzawasanhonour.ItshouldbeLuthandtherestofSiriussingingpraisestoitsunimaginablelegacy.WitheverysteptheLupaCapitalina took,he

couldfeeltheenormouspowerandunbreakablestrengththatlayattheheartoftheArkMechanicus.Itsagewasimmense,itsmachine-spiritlikenoneotherhehadknown.

Onlyaprinceps,awarriorsointimatelyconjoinedwiththeOmnissiah,couldtrulyunderstandthelivingsoulofthisvessel.Thousandofmachineshadbecomeonewiththiscraft,anincrediblelineageof technology that stretched back through themists of time to an age where entire fleets of suchawesomevesselspliedthestarsinthenameofexplorationandprogress.

ThosemachineswerenowpartoftheSperanza,anditwaspartofthem;onesprawlingtapestryofawesome cognition that had become something more incredible, more complex than any livingorganism in the galaxy. He sensed its unimaginable age, yet understood the sharp newness of itsexistence.TheSperanzawasafierycoltinthebodyofaageingstallion...

Luthwonderedifanyoneelseonthisvesseltrulyunderstoodthatcontradiction.Behind himwalked the rest of his pack,much diminished since the losses suffered during the

Fortaniscampaign.PrincepsEryksSkálmöld– theMoonsorrow– followed inCanisUlfrica, a battle-hungryReaverwiththeheartofaferociousandrelentlesshunter.LopingatitsheelscameAmarokandVilka, Warhounds of vicious temperament and wild hunger. Gunnar Vintras, princeps of Amarok,whosepacknamewasSkinwalker,wasthelonepredator,alwaysrailingagainstthebondsofthepack.Vilka was the loyal hound that hunted where its master willed, and Princeps Elias Härkin, calledIronwoad,wasassteadyandunshakeableastheycame.

LupaCapitalinawastheglueattheirheart,thealphaenginewhoseicywillboundthemtogetherasa fighting force. Luth felt Canis Ulfrica’s approach, drawing closer to his rear quarters than wasnecessaryorwise.Acalculatedchallengetohisauthority,adeclarationofMoonsorrow’sdesiretoleadthepack.

Luthtwistedinhissuspensiontank,baringhisengine’steethandraisingitshackles.InresponsetheCapitalina’sshouldermountstensedandherwarhornsgrowledaburstofcodedwar-cant.AmarokandVilka scatteredwith their wolf-snout cockpits lowered, sending theMechanicus adepts nearbydivingfromtheirpath.CanisUlfrica paused in its steadyadvance, letting itswarhornanswerLuth’schallenge.

AlarmsirensblaredthroughoutthevasthangardeckasLuthmovedhisenginefromitsprescribedpath.Warninglightsflashedandaslewofinterrogativesflickeredtolifebehindhissightlesseyes.Heignored them and clenched non-existent fists, raising his arms and cycling his auto-loaders. Theweaponsweredisconnectedfromtheircolossalammo-hoppers,butthesymbolismofthegesturewasclearandCanisUlfricatookabackwardstepwithitsshouldersdippinginsubmission.

‘Moonsorrowisgettingbold,’saidModeratiKoskinen,watchingtheauspexcascadeastheReaverreturnedtoitsassignedspacing.

‘Ifhethinkshe’sreadytobealpha,thenhe’safool,’repliedModeratiRosten.LuthknewheshouldrebukeRostenforsuchacomment,butitwashardtoarguewiththetruthof

it.LupaCapitalinaknewit too.Heshared itsurgetostrikeoutat thischallengetohisauthority,butwouldnotallowsuchdissentwithinthisholyplace.

‘I’mgettingheatbuild in theplasmadestructoragain,’notedModeratiKoskinen. ‘Looks like theCapitalinawasn’ttoohappywithMoonsorroweither.’

‘Compensating,’answeredMagosHyrdrithfromherelevatedpositionattherearofthecockpit.Luthhadfelttheheatbuild,butignoredit,knowingitwassimplytheCapitalina’sangerthatcaused

the temperature increase. He felt the soothing balm of coolant bathe his fist, uncurling phantomfingersthathadlong-sincebeenamputatedandreplacedwithaseriesofsilver-tippedmechadendritesthatdriftedlikecnidariafronds.

‘Thedestructor’sheat-exchangecoilshavealwaysbeentemperamental,’saidRosten.‘IknewthosesunbornadeptsonJourawouldn’tbeabletosorttheproblem.’

‘Theywerecompetentadepts,’counteredHyrdrith.‘Theissueisnotinthecoilchamber.’‘Ihavereadingsthatsayotherwise,’repliedKoskinen.‘Withallduerespect,moderati,thatgun’sspirithasalwaysbeenover-eagertobeloosed.’LuthfelttheCapitalina’sirebuildatthedisparagingtoneinthetech-priest’svoice.Hyrdrithfeltit

too,andhurriedlyadded,‘ThoughIadmititsrapidrateofrechargemorethanmakesupforthat.’Koskinengrinned.‘Alwaysadiplomat,eh,Hyrdrith?’hesaid,returninghisattentiontothehaptic

displayflickeringbeforehim.+Whenthepackhunts,astrongalphaisitsheartandsoul.Theheartmustalwaysbethestrongest

organinthebody.IamstillstrongerthanMoonsorrowandheknowsit.+The interior of the cockpit was filled with Luth’s voice, a rasping thing that emerged from the

shadows.WhenLuthspokealoud,everyonelistened.‘Byyourword,Wintersun,’saidhismoderatiandtech-priesttogether,bowingtheirheads.+Wewalkinthebellyofourgreatesttemple,+saidLuth,lettinghishunter’sheartcomethroughin

the modulation of his feral growl. +Recognise the honour you have been granted just by beingpermittedtojointhisexpedition.+

He felt the contrition of his bridge crew and returned to his original course.He dismissed theblinkingwarningiconsfloatinginvisiblyinthetranslucent liquidwithanirritatedgrowlandstrodetowards the inertia-cradle that a shimmering noospheric halo indicated had been assigned to theCapitalina.Floatingguide-liftersandgrav-cushionsawaitedhim,andhissinginloadports,feedlinesandrestraintclampsspreadwidetoreceivethegod-machine.

Luthfeltthewelcomeofathousandbinarysoulswovenintoonevoicethatspoketohimandhimalone.HesensedthehungerforexplorationattheheartoftheSperanza,theburningdesiretobeawayfrom this world of iron and these well-travelled routes through space. Like a callow princeps, theSperanzawantednothingmorethantochargeoutintotheunknown,tosailbythelightofsunsthathadnevershonetheirfaceontherealmofMen.

Herecogniseditskindredsoulandheardthejoyoushowlingatitscore.+TheSperanzahasmanywolvesinitsheart,+hesaid.

Thespaceenclosedby theAdamantCiboriumwascuriouslymodest,avast structuresurroundingaspacenolargerthanthebridgeoftheRenard.Robouteguessedthewallsmustbeat leastahundredmetresthickormore,andhewonderedwhatmannerofreveredtechnologyhadbeenworkedwithinthem.

Once inside theportal, thepassagewaynarrowed ingeometricsteps thatRobouterecognisedascorresponding to the ratios of the Golden Mean. Eventually they were obliged to disembark andcontinue on foot. Together with the armoured skitarii vehicle, their transports retreated to awaitthem.

At the heart of the Ciborium was an elliptical chamber like a grand hall of governance, withstepped tiers of hardmetal benches rising to either side of a perfectly circular table. The tablewaseasilytenmetreswide,fashionedfromwedge-shapedplanesofsegmentedsteelinsetwithpanelsofasmooth red rock that could only have come from one world of the galaxy. Gently humming dataengines ran around the curve of the chamber’s walls, and a number of blank-faced servitors werepluggedintoseveralexloadports,holo-captureaugmeticsrecordingeveryangleofthisgathering.

Asphericalorbofwiremeshandglitteringgemstoneshungsuspendedoverthecentreofthetable,anarchaicrepresentationofthecosmosasenvisagedbytheancientstargazersofOldEarth.MagosBlaylockindicatedRobouteshouldstandatavacantsegmentofthetablebeforetakinghisownplacewiththestuntedslavesarranginghisnetworkoftubingbehindhim.AclickingmachinearmunfoldedfromBlaylock’srobesandslidhomeinaconnectionportonthetable’sunderside.Thegreenlensesofhiseyesflickeredwithdatatransfer.

MagosTychontookapositionatanunoccupiedsegmenttoRoboute’s left,whileLinyamovedtostandbyoneofthedatastationsatthewallbehindherfather,pluggingintotheship’sManifoldwithadiscreetlyextrudeddata-spike.

Arranged around the table’s circumference were the individuals representing the disparateelementsof theExploratorFleet and the seniormagiof theSperanza.Roboute scanned the facesofthesemenandwomentowhomhisfatewouldbelinkedforthedurationoftheexpedition.

The man nearest him wore the dress uniform of a Cadian colonel, a rugged ensemble thatmanaged to look ceremonial and battle-ready in the same instant. Though his outfit was morerestrainedthanplentyofotherroguetradershe’dmet,Roboutefelt likeafoppishdandynexttothecolonel.Aides-de-campscratchingatdata-slatesstoodarespectfuldistancefromtheircommandingofficer,andRoboutegavethecolonelarespectfulnodashetookhisplaceatthetable.

OppositethecolonelstoodamonstrouslytallfigureencasedinblackTerminatorarmour,renderedbeyond human in scale by the heavy plates of polished jet and ivory. The flared cross on hiswhiteshoulderguardtoldRoboutewhathealreadyknew.ThiswasaSpaceMarineoftheBlackTemplars,andthewarriorfilledthechamberwithhiscolossalbulk.Theoversizedarmourmadehimseemmorelike a bipedal tank instead of a man. Super-engineered beyond mortality, the warrior did notacknowledgeRoboute’sarrival,savebyacurtinclinationofhisskull-facedhelm.

Magioccupiedtherestofthesegmentsaroundthetable,acollectionofrobedadeptswhowereatleastasfarremovedfromtheiroriginalhumantemplateastheSpaceMarine.Some,likeBlaylock,kepttheirhoodsraised,withonly thedimglowofaugmetics togiveany indicationofsensoryapparatusbeneath.Otherswentbare-headed,thoughthemajorityhadlongsinceremovedtheirhumanfeaturesinfavourofmachinereplacementsalongtherouteofascensionthroughtheMechanicusranks.Oneappearedtobelittlemorethanportionsofbrainmatterspreadbetweenanumberoffluid-filledbelljarsandlinkedtogetherbycracklingcopperwiring.Thedisparatepartsofthemagos–orwasthere

morethanoneindividualsuspendedinthejars?–weresupportedonawalkingarmatureofarmouredsteellikeafleshlesspraetorian.

Robouterecognisednoneofthemsavethemagosdirectlyacrossfromhim.Taller thaneveryotheradept in thechamber,ArchmagosExploratorLexellKotov’s robeswerea

shimmeringweaveofcrimsonmailandcontouredplatesmouldedintheformofhumanmusculature.Roboute took his time in studying themagoswhowould be leading thembeyond the edges of theknowngalaxy intowildernessspacethathadswallowedentirefleets.Herealisedthatnopartof themagosbelowtheneckwasorganic;thathisbodywasentirelyartificial.

Kotov’smechanisedbodyputRobouteinmindofthegladiatorialwarriorsoftheRomaniiempirefromOldEarth’s ancienthistory, an impression further cementedby the long electro-bladed swordlooselybeltedathiship.Roboute’seyesweredrawntotheblackirongorgetatKotov’sneck,wherethelastofhisoriginalbodyendedand joinedwith theautomaton’s shoulders.Coldwispsof air sighedfrom the gorget, and green indicator lightswinkedwith rhythmic precision. A cloak ofmany hueshungfromhisshoulders,andablacksteelcollarroseupatthebackofhisshavenskull,cracklingwithadancingnimbusofpowerthatfedintoatrioofbaremetalcryo-cylindersharnessedtohisback.

Unusually for one so elevated in the ranks of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Kotov’s face was stillrecognisablyhuman,albeitstarvedofsunlightandcyanotic.EyesthatwereadisconcertingshadeofvioletregardedRoboutewithamusementandKotovsmiledinwelcomeasEmilandAdaradepositedthestasischestathisside.

‘AveDeusMechanicus,’saidKotovwithanodtowardsBlaylockandtheTychons,whoreturnedthesalutationwithgreatsolemnity.Finally,thearchmagosturnedtoRoboute.

‘CaptainSurcouf,’saidKotov.‘Withyourarrival,thecomponentsofourfleetenterprisearefinallyassembled.TakeyourplaceattheUltorMartius,ourlinktothesacredstoneofMars.’

‘ArchmagosKotov,’saidRoboute,withaformalbow.‘Itgivesmegreatpleasuretofinallymeetyouinperson.CommunicationovertheManifoldwaystationsisallwellandgood,butit’snosubstituteforspeakingfacetoface.’

‘I fail to see the difference,’ saidKotov. ‘Manifold communication is equally as efficient. In anycase,withyourarrivalwecanbegin.Doyouhavethedevice?’

KnowingthattocontinuallyrailagainstthebluntwaysoftheMechanicuswouldbewastedeffort,Robouteheldhistemperincheckatthelackofformalniceties.Butitwoulddonoharmtoremindtheassembledtech-prieststhatthiswasajointexpedition.

IgnoringKotov’squestion,RobouteturnedtotheCadiancolonelandheldouthishand.‘RobouteSurcouf,captainoftheroguetradervesselRenard.’‘VenAnders,’saidtheGuardofficer.‘Colonelofthe71stCadians,goodtohaveyouaboard.’Roboutesawthewryamusement inAnders’seyesandrecognised theman’sobviouspleasureat

havinganotherindividualoffleshandbloodamongsttheexpeditionarycommandstaff.‘CaptainSurcouf?’askedKotov.‘Didyounothearmyinterrogative?’‘Iheardit,’saidRoboute,‘butasIalreadyexplainedtoMagosBlaylockhere,Iprefertoknowwho

I’mdealingwithbeforeIbeginanyendeavour.Silly,Iknow,butthereyougo.’‘Yes,heinformedmeofyourobsessionwithidentifiers,’sighedKotov.‘Verywell,arrangedaround

theUltorMartiusincogwiserotationaretheseniormagioftheSperanza,togetherwiththecommandranksofouradjunctelements.YouhavealreadymetMagosBlaylock,myFabricatusLocum.Next isMagos Saiixek,Master of Engineering,Magos Azuramagelli of Astrogation,Magos Kryptaestrex ofLogistics,MagosDahanofArmamentsandSecutoroftheSkitariiClans.’

KotovturnedtotheenormousSpaceMarine.‘Andthisis–’‘Imakemyown introductions,ArchmagosKotov,’ said theSpaceMarine. ‘I amReclusiarchKul

GiladoftheBlackTemplars.’‘Anhonourtoknowyou,Reclusiarch,’saidRoboute.‘Youbearanhonourablename,’saidtheReclusiarch.‘YouareofUltramar?’‘Iam,’agreedRoboute.‘IwasbornonIax,oneofthecardinalworlds.’‘ItsurprisesmetoseeacitizenofUltramarasaroguetrader.’‘It’salongstory,’saidRoboute.‘MaybeI’lltellyouitoverthecourseofourjourneytogether.’‘CaptainSurcouf,thedeviceifyouplease,’saidKotov,cuttingacrossanyresponseKulGiladmight

havemade.‘Ofcourse,’saidRoboute.‘Emil,Adara?’Thetwocrewmenliftedthestasischestontothetableandbackedawaywhenhegavethemanod

of thanks.Hesawtheadmirationfor theworkmanship thathadgone into thecraftingof thestasischest,andmorethanonemagosblink-clickedimagesatthesightofit.

‘Anunusualdesign,’saidthedisembodiedvoiceofMagosAzuramagelli,hissteelarmatureflexingand his multiple brain jars leaning over the tabe. ‘It has an aesthetic reminiscent of eldarworkmanship.’

‘That’sbecauseitwasmadebyaneldarbonesinger,’saidRoboute.‘Andhowcomesitintoyourpossession?’askedMagosDahan.‘Anactofpiracyortrade?’‘Neither,actually,’saidRoboute.‘Itwasagift.’‘Agift?’saidKulGilad,leaningforwardsandplacingtwoenormousfistsonthetable.‘AmIgivento

understandyouwillinglyconsortwithxenosspecies?’‘Iamaroguetrader,Reclusiarch,’saidSurcouf.‘Idealwithxenosspeciesasamatterofcourse.’KulGiladturnedtoKotov.‘Yousaidnothingofusemployingxeno-tech.’‘Don’t worry, it’s just the chest that’s eldar,’ said Roboute, placing his hand on the locking

mechanism.Littlemore thanasliverofwraithboneYrlandriarhadsung intoshapeusingRoboute’snameashiskeynote,theplatepulsedwarmlyasitrecognisedhistouch.Thewraithbonerespondedtohissinceredesireforittorelease,andthelockdisengagedwithasoftclick.

Robouteopenedthechestandliftedoutwhathadcosthimthebetterpartofthreeyears’worthofearnings from his cobalt routes to procure. In appearance, the catalyst for this expedition wasdisappointing to look at, a bronze cylinder like an artillery shellwith a flattenedhead and crimpedcentresection.Anumberoftrailingwireshunglimplyfromatearintheoutercasing,andthemetalwasheavilypittedwithrustandcorrosion.Crystalgrowthsencircledthecylinder,anditdidn’tneedaMechanicusmetallurgisttoknowitwasobviouslyofgreatage.

‘Whatisit?’askedVenAnders.‘Abeaconofsomekind?’‘That’sexactlywhatit is,colonel,’saidRoboute. ‘It’sasynchroniseddistressbeacontakenfroma

saviourpodejectedfromtheTomioka,thelostflagshipofMagosTelok.’ThoughKotovmust surely have told the assembledmagi the nature ofwhat he had brought to

them, they still reacted with scattered barks of binary. Code blurts crossed the table, and everyaugmetic eye brightened at the prospect that this was indeed a relic from the legendary fleet lostbeyondtheHaloScar.Robouteplacedthebeacononthestoneofthetablebeforehimandthecentralportionofthetableirisedopen.Snakingmechadendritesemergedlikeawrithingnestofsnakeswithclicking clampheads.They eased through the air andanumberof themechanisedprobes clampedontothebodyofthebeacon.

Everymagos around the table, if theyhadnot yetdone so, connected to the inloadports of theUltor Martius as information flowed into the cogitator at its heart. The lights of the AdamantCiboriumdimmedandabreathofoil-scentedairgustedfromunseenvents,asthoughtheSperanzaitselfwastastingtheknowledgebeingtransferredfromthebeacon.

Kotovfrownedandsaid,‘ThebeaconbearsgenuineMechanicusassemblycodesthatmatchthoseofTelok’sfleet,buttherearesectorsofthebeacon’sdata-coilsmissing.’

‘Thereare,’agreedRoboute.‘Theastrogationlogsanddatumreferenceshavebeenremoved,’notedMagosTychon.‘Thereisno

waytolocatewherethesaviourpodwasejected.Asitispresented,thebeaconisuseless.’‘Not exactly,’ saidRoboute, removing awafer of pressed brass fromhis coat pocket, its surface

etchedwithangularcodeimpressions.‘Ihavethatinformationrighthere.’‘Youhavedesecratedaholyartefact,’ saidKotov. ‘Icouldhaveyouexecutedonthespot forsuch

blasphemy.OnlythoseprivytothemysteriesoftheCultMechanicusarepermittedtotouchtheinnerworkingsofablessedmachine.’

‘Andthat’s justwhathappened,’saidRoboute,turningtohiscrew. ‘IhadMagosPavelkaidentifythecoilcontainingall localstellarreferences towhere thispodwentdownandremove it.Asyou’vealreadyseen,there’senoughlefttoverifytheprovenanceofthebeacon,soIsuggestweallcalmdownandgetreadytobreakorbit.’

‘Whywouldyoudosuchathing?’‘I’vedonemyresearch,andIknowyoudidn’tgettobeanArchmagosofMarsbyalwayshonouring

everybargainyou’vestruck.’‘WhatistostopmeaskingtheReclusiarchtotakethatmemorywaferfromyoubyforce?’‘Nothing,’saidRoboute.‘Thoughitisveryfragile,andIdoubtyoucouldreconstructitsdataonce

I’vecrusheditundermyboot.’The magi gathered around the table recoiled from Roboute’s threat, horrified at the idea of

destroyingsuchpricelessknowledge.‘Very well, Captain Surcouf, what payment do you hope to gain over and above what we have

alreadyagreedbykeepingthisinformationfromme?’‘I don’twantmoremoney or tech if that’swhat you’re thinking,’ said Roboute. ‘I justwant the

chancetoflytheRenardattheforefrontofthisfleetoncewe’reontheothersideoftheHaloScarandbethefirsttoencounterwhatliesontheotherside.Whenwegetthere,I’llgladlygiveyouthememorywafer.OnmyhonourasaloyalservantoftheGoldenThrone.’

RoboutepocketedthedatawaferashesawKotov’srealisationthathehadnochoicebuttoaccede.‘Rightthen,’hesaid,leaningforwardsandplacingbothhandsontheredstoneofthetable.‘Shall

wegetunderway?’

Microcontent06

Abrehemwatchedthebaldman fall, hisbody twistingand spinning through theair.HisnamewasVehlas,andhescreameduntilhisskullstruckaprotrudingsparofthecyclicrotatorscaffold.Afterthathe fell in silence. By the time he spread his body over awide area of the deck plates, five hundredmetres below,most of the rest of the work detail had returned their attention to the vast plasmacylinderbeingliftedtowardsthem.Thegantrywasnarrowandswayedwiththemotionofaworkcrewbelow them. Abrehem watched them detach their own plasma cylinder from the greased chainssecuringitandmanoeuvreittowardstheyawningmouthofthedrivechamber.

‘Hehityet?’askedCoyne.Abrehemnodded,toonumbandexhaustedtoreply.‘Whydoyoualwayswatch?’askedHawke.‘Ikeephopingsomeonemightdosomethingtosavetheonesthatfall,’saidAbrehem.‘Not bloody likely,’ gruntedHawke. ‘Mechanicusdon’t care about us,we’re just slaves.Not even

human.Theythinkthey’rehonouringusbylettinguskillourselvesinhere.Somehonour,eh?’‘I’ve seen four men die just fuelling this engine alone,’ said Abrehem, wiping sweat from his

foreheadwiththegrimysleeveofhisoveralls.Theyhadstartedoutgarishred,butwerenowasodden,oil-stainedmuddyblack.

‘Four,’musedCoyne.‘Ithoughtitwasmorethanthat.’‘No, the lastmandidn’thit thedeck,’ saidHawke, castingavenomousglareatVresh, the robed

overseerdirectingtheirlaboursfromafloatingrepulsorpod.‘Poorbastardlandedononeofthelowerworkcrewgantries.Hedidn’tdie,buthelookedallbrokenup.’

TheapathydisplayedbytheirMechanicusmastershorrifiedAbrehem.‘Menaredying,butthat’sjustaninconveniencetotheengineoverseers.’‘We’recollared,’saidHawke.‘Whatdidyouexpect?’Abrehemnoddedandsanktohishaunches,pressinghisfaceintohishands.Theystankofsweat,

burstblisters andenginegrease.AlongwithHawke,CoyneandCrusha,heworkedwithahundredothermenonanarrowgantryformingpartofthetheenormousrotatorscaffoldingthatmovedlikeagiant wheel around the outer circumference of a vast fusion reactor. The seething plasma reactor

formedpartoftheventraldrivechamber.Three-quartersofakilometreindiameter,eachofthefiftydrivechambersrequiredtwodozenplasmacylinders,eachthesizeofanoresilo,tobeloadedinlikebulletsinarevolverbeforetheSperanzawouldhaveenoughpowertobreakorbit.

The reactor temple resonated to the sounds of heaving loader rigs, rattling chains thicker thansupport columns, squealingbinarichymnals,beatinghammersand thevolcanic thunderof ventingplasma. It reeked of caustic gases, and the air rippled with heat haze from the plasma flares andflashingwarningbeacons.Heatexhaustionhadcausedmorethanadozenmentobereplacedonthegantries,andthewaterpipedinthroughdirtyplastictubeswasbrackishandtastedofmetal.

Aseachthrummingplasmacylinderwasbroughtinfromthesealedmunitionsdecks,therotatorscaffoldwouldmovearounduntilitwasaimedatthegroovedtunnelintowhichitwastobeslotted.Work crewsoccupied eachgantry,manually guiding the colossal cylinders alonggreased rails untilthey were locked into the drive chamber. Then the rotator scaffold would turn again and anothercylinderwouldemergefrombelowdeckstobemanhandledintoplace.

It was hard, dangerous and thankless work. Four men had already fallen to their deaths, andseveralhadbeenhorriblyinjuredwhenananchorchainsnappedandaplasmacylindercrushedthemagainstthegantryrailings.

‘Watchout,’saidCoyne,lookingoutoverAbrehem’sshoulder.‘Herecomesthenextone.’Theshiftcontinuedforanotherfivehours,theirworkcrewloadinginanothersixplasmacylinders

beforetheklaxonblaredandtherotatorscaffoldjerkedandsquealedarounditscentralhubtodepositthemonthehotdeck.Aseriesofexithatchessliduponthebaremetalwallsofthereactortemple,andthe exhausted workers marched in ragged ranks towards the steps that led down to their dismalquartersinthebellyoftheSperanza.

Likeanarmyofdefeatedsoldiersbeingledintocaptivityfromwhichtherecouldbenoescape,theworkersshuffledwith theirheadsdowncast.AbrehemglancedupasHawkenudgedhimin theribsandnodded over towhereVresh’s repulsor disc had drifted down to inspect the seal on a recentlylocked-incylinder.

‘Hey!’shoutedHawke,wavinghisfistattheoverseer.‘Youupthere!’‘Whatareyoudoing?’hissedAbrehem,grabbingHawke’sarm.‘Bequiet!’HawkeshruggedoffAbrehem’shand.‘Hey,you’rekillingusdownhere,youbastard!’‘Shutup,Hawke,’saidCoyne,buttheex-Guardsman’sbitterangerwasinfullspate.‘Thisisn’tright,whatyou’redoing!IservedtheEmperorinbattle,damnyou!Youcan’ttreatuslike

this!’Vreshfinallydeignedtolookdown,theoverseer’smetal-maskedfacescanningthecrowdsofsullen

workerswithaflickeringblueglowofaugmetics.HefastenedhisgazeonHawkeandahardbarkofcodescreechedoverthem.Therepulsordiscdroppedlower,andVreshstampedhiscracklingshock-staffagainstit.

‘Forgetit,’saidAbrehem,pullingHawkeaway.‘Heprobablycan’tevenunderstandyou.’‘Heunderstandsme just fine,’ snappedHawke. ‘Hemightbea jumped-up robot,butVreshwas

oncelikeyouandme.HeknowswhatI’msaying.’‘Maybehedoes,buthe’snotlistening.’

‘OnedayI’mgoingtomakethebastardlisten,’saidHawke.

Toanoutsideobserver,thecommanddeckoftheSperanzawouldbeanuninspiringplaceofcoldsteel,sunkenrowsofhardwiredservitorssealedinmodularbooths,andisolatednubsofmetalthatlookedliketheshorntrunksofsilver-barkedtrees.ButtoLinyaTychon,whoseprostheticopticnerveswerenoospherically-enabled,itwasaplaceofwonder,aplacewhereentopticmachinerygeneratedflowsofdatathatfloatedintheairlikeunimaginablydelicateneonsculptures.

Like theAdamantCiborium, the interior of the commanddeckwas an elliptical space, itswallsalivewithcrawlingcircuitryandexposedpipesandcabling.Ceiling-mounteddatahubspulsedwithlightandpushedstreamsofsquirminginformationthroughouttheholographiclatticeofthedeck,aship-widefloodstreamofstaggeringcomplexity.

Informationblurtspassedbetweennodesofagglomeratedfacts,beforebeingfilteredforrelevancyandthenpassedonthroughdataprismsthatsplicedthemtotheirdestinations. Infocyte terminals,where multi-armed haptic seers parsed a million micro-packets of inloaded data a second, weregushingfountainsofvolcaniclight,almosttoobrighttolookupondirectly.

A ship as big as the Speranza generated a colossal amount of information every second: hulltemperaturefluctuations,gravitationaldragfactors,inertialcompensation,reactorbleed,Gellerfieldintegrity, warp-capacitance, fuel tolerances, engine readiness, ablative voids, weapon arsenals, life-support, floodstream, Ancile gravity shields, teleport arrays and a billion other pieces of data to beprocessedby the awesomely complex logic enginesof the ancient ship. Informationhung inbrightveils, reams of icons, numbers and readouts unravelling in skeins of light, a neural network ofunimaginableintricacyandmulti-dimensionalgeometry.

Linyahadbrushedhermyriadsensesover the surfaceof the ship’sdeepconsciousness, amazedandalittlebitfrightenedatitsseeminglyinfinitedepths.ToknowtheSperanzawasoldwasonething,buttofeelthatageinthedenselywoundcode-spiritatitsheartwasquiteanother.Shereadtheship’sreadinesstodepartineveryshimmeredcurtainofphantomlight.

TheSperanzastrainedattheleash,eagertobeonitsway.‘Welcome to the commanddeck,’ said LexellKotov, the central dais uponwhich theArchmagos

Exploratorsatrotatingtofacethem.‘Iimagineneitherofyouwilleverhaveseenanythingquitelikethis.’

‘Ihaveneverseenitslike,’agreedherfather,ashemadehiswayupthegentleslopeleadingfromthearterialpassagewayatthedeck’sonlyentrancetotherostrumuponwhichthehigherfunctionsofthecraftweredirected.VitaliandKotovspokeinbinariccant,eachcodeblurttonallymodulatedwithsignifiersofrespectandmutualadmiration.Nowordspassedbetweenthem,onlythepurityofpreciseanduncorrupteddata.

‘Nor I,’ said Linya, following her father and registering evermore complex forms of algebraic,geometric and algorithmic representations of information. Some of it passed through her,assimilatingelementsofherfloodstreamintoitsnuminousadmixture,whileotherfragmentsdartedaroundherlikestartledfish.

‘Ararejewelintheheavens,’saidVitali.‘Wonderfultoseeanatmospheresoredolentwithdata.’KotovfrownedatVitali’sovertuseofmetaphor,butlettheemotivesentimentpassunremarked.‘Few have, even among the AdeptusMechanicus,’ he responded. ‘Quatriamust be very quiet by

comparison.’‘That it is, though I rather enjoy the peace ofmy humble orbital galleries,’ said Vitali. ‘There is

something almost mystical in the contemplation of the stars. To know that the light we gather isalreadyancient and the lives livedbeneath their radiancehave endedbeforewe evenknewof theirexistance. To view such things is to find peace and equanimity, archmagos, to feel at onewith theuniverseandknowyourplaceinit.Whenwereturnfromthisexpedition,youshouldjoinmethereforatime.Tolookuponthepastgivesamanperspective.’

‘PerhapsIshallvisit,’saidKotovmaskinghisimpatiencewithacrookedgrin,asthoughhethoughta gesture of humanity would somehow appear comradely. Like most biological micro-expressionsdiscardedby adepts of theMechanicus along their route of ascension tomachinehood, once itwasgone it was near impossible to recover with any conviction. ‘But that is a pleasure I shall have topostpone,forthesecretsoftheHaloScarawaitdiscovery.MagosAzuramagellihasalmostcompletedhiscalculationsforoptimalorbitbreakingandpassagetothegalacticfringe.’

‘SoIsee,’saidVitali,noddinginrespecttowhereMagosAzuramagellistoodimmobileatoneofthesilverednubsofmetal that rose from thedeck, linked via a seriesofMIUcables extruded fromhisirised-opentrunk.Thegreenlightsthatbathedhisdisassembledbrainweredirectedupwards,andanumberofhapticclawssiftedthroughstreamsofinformationpassingbetweentheshipsthatmadeuptheExploratorFleet.

Azuramagellididnotacknowledgetheirentrytothebridge,hisfullattentiondirectedtofactoringthecomplexstatisticalinloadsofMagosBlaylockintohisavionicspackages.Toplotacoursethroughaninhabitedsystemwasataskofgreatcomplexity,onethatrequiredintimateknowledgeofplanetaryorbits, local stellar phenomena and potential immaterial interference bleeding through the realspace/warp space divide at the Mandeville point. Yet Azuramagelli had not only computed such acourse, but one that incorporated every aspect of their journey over three sectors to theHalo Scaritself.

Woven chains of Boolean logic-code bristled from his epidermal haptics like cilia as he shedirrelevantdata.Linyawatchedhiscalculationscoalesce toamandalaof symmetry,anexpressionofnumeralsandastro-navigationaldatarenderedinlightandfractalgeometry.

Azuramagellistraightenedasadelicatesculptureoflatticedlightfloatedfreeofthesilverdatahub.Weaving mechadendrites turned it this way and that as his brain-optics examined its purity andcomplexityfromamultitudeofangles.

‘Isthecoursereadyforinsertion?’askedKotov.‘Itis,’answeredAzuramagelli,exloadingthecoursedatatoKotov’sthrone.‘Verygood,’saidthearchmagos.‘Yes,verygoodindeed.Thisshouldseeustothescarinforty-three

days,plusorminusoneday.Prepareto–’‘IfImay?’saidLinya,steppingtowardsthegentlyspinninglightcraftedbyAzuramagelliwithher

handsoutstretched.TheMagosofAstrogationliftedhiscreationawayfromher,hisfloodstreamrising

inirritationatherinterruption.Mechadendritesflaredlikestartledsnakes,andseveralofhismartialsystemssurgedtolife.Thelightinhisbelljarsflickeredanangryred.

‘Interrogative:whatareyoudoing?’hedemanded.‘Iwishtoexamineyourcomputations.’‘Statement:outofthequestion.’‘Why?’‘Clarify:Whywhat?’‘Whyisitoutofthequestion?’askedLinya.‘IamamagosoftheAdeptusMechanicus.SurelyIcan

examineafellowpriest’swork?’Azuramagelli barked in the negative. ‘The calculations are too complex for those not versed in

hexamathical logic equations. You could not comprehend the multi-dimensional integer latticeswithoutaugmentationorinloadedwetware.’

Linyasmiledandallowedelementsofherhonorificstocometotheforeofhernoosphericaura.‘Ithinkyou’llfindthatIamahexamathical-savantus;secundusgrade,’shesaid.‘Iseethatyouare

tertiarygrade,MagosAzuramagelli.IassureyouthatIwillunderstandwhatyouhavedone.’AzuramagelliturnedhisarmaturedbodytowardsKotov,perhapsexpectinghimtorebukeher,but

Linyasuspectedherlogicwouldappealtothearchmagos.‘Letherlook,’saidKotov.‘Whatharmcanitdo?’Linya forced herself to ignore the faintly patronising comment and held out her hand to

Azuramagelli.Reluctantly,theballoflightdriftedtowardsher,likeafrightenedanimalcoaxedcloserwithapromiseofacomfortinghand.

‘Change nothing,’ warned Azuramagelli. ‘The geometric data is fragile and easily prone toexponentialdegradationifitisalteredwithoutcare.’

‘Mydaughterisverygifted,’saidVitaliwithpride.‘Youdon’tneedtoexplain,father,’saidLinya.‘I’llletmycalculationsdothat.’Linyareachedupandexplodedtheballoflightwitharapidspreadofherfingers.Theshimmering

algebraicarchitectureofAzuramagelli’scourseplotspunaroundher,gossamerthreadsofholographicinformation of such complexity that it took her breath away. A billion times a billion calculations,statistical extrapolations and inloaded astrogationdatumpoints from tens of thousands of sourcessurroundedherlikeashoalofglitter-scaleoceanids.

Forthemostpart,hisworkingswereexemplaryandbeyondthereachofeventhosewhoheldtheexalted rank of a primus grade hexamath. Yet Linya held an innate grasp of such concepts thatbordered on preternatural, an instinctive understanding of the way numbers integrated with oneanotherthathadseenhercrackpreviouslyinsolubleproofswithapparentease.AllthathadpreventedherfromascendingtoprimusgradehadbeenalackofanydesiretotraveltoMarsandspendhalfacenturyinthescholamtemplesofOlympusMonswhenQuatria’sgalleriesofferedthemysteriesoftheuniversetogazeupon.

‘Yourcalculationsareexquisite,MagosAzuramagelli,’saidLinya.‘YoutellmewhatIalreadyknow,MistressTychon,’saidAzuramagelli,reachingamanipulatorarm

tocoalescethelightintoadatatransferpacket.‘Now,ifImaycontinue–’

‘Exquisite,butwrong,’saidLinya,spinningthelightwithatwistofherwristandzoominginonajagged,fractal-edgednumeralhive.

‘Wrong?’saidAzuramagelli.‘Impossible.Youaremistaken.’‘See for yourself,’ said Linya. ‘A single flawed data inload from a microscopically deviant

gravometricreadinghasbeenmagnifiedexponentiallythroughoutthecalculation,goingunnoticedasit spread its errormargin to the entireworking.This coursewill add fourdays toour journey, andforceustodivertaroundtheemergentJouranioncometaryshower.’

‘Mydaughterhassomethingofafondnessforloggingcometaryphenomena,’saidVitali.Azuramagelli’sopticssnappedincloseandhissilencetoldherthathenowsawtheerror.‘Isshecorrect?’askedKotov.‘Soitwouldappear,’repliedAzuramagelli.‘TheerrorwasnotoneofMagosAzuramagelli’smaking,archmagos,’saidLinyahurriedly,though

sheknewitwastoolittletoolate.Shehadn’tsetouttohumiliatethemagosofastrogation,andalreadyregrettedhergrandstanding.

‘Perhaps not,’ said Kotov, also examining the highlighted data. ‘Yet he failed to notice theirregularityindataparity.’

‘Whichgiventhestaggeringvolumeofinloadeddataishardlysurprising,’pointedoutLinya.‘Yetyousawtheflawalmostimmediately,’saidKotov. ‘PerhapsIshouldelevateyoutocommand

deckstatus?’‘Thatwillnotbenecessary,’ saidLinya. ‘Myexpertisewouldbemoreefficiently employed in the

cartographaeaspertheoriginalmissionparameters.’Kotovrubbedahandthatstreameddermicinformationintotheatmosphereandnodded,whichin

turnsentdriftsofinformationintotheship-widenoosphere.‘Agreed,’ he said at last. ‘Azuramagelli, update your coursewith the corrections implementedby

MistressTychonandinloadthenewinformationtotheship’sdataengines.’‘Yes, archmagos,’ saidAzuramagelli, collapsing theupdatedcourseandpressing itback into the

silverhubbeforehim.Goldentraceriesoflightbledintothecylinder,flowinglikemoltenmetalintothe information network of the Speranza, which welcomed the new data with a surge of perfectnumbersandharmonicproofsthatchimedfromtheverywalls.

Andadistantvibrationoffiringengines.

Despite their lack of augmentation,MagosDahan had to admit theCadian trooperswere effectivesoldiers.Thoughthe71stHellhoundshadbeenaboardtheSperanzalessthansixhours,theyhadalreadyrunthroughnumeroustrainingscenarioswithaggressionandcompetencethatbeliedtheirmonthsoftransittoJourafromthepunishingwarzonesoftheEasternFringe.

It was a fact of the Imperium’s vast scale that most Guard regiments suffered a substantialdegradation in their combateffectivenessafter longperiodsof transit in theholdsofaNavymass-conveyor. Soldiers and officers alike fell prey to a lassitude engendered by long periods of absencefromthefrontlineandthedetrimentaleffectsofprolongedimmateriumtravel.

NotsowiththeseCadians.Threetimesthegeneratorbuildinghadbeencaptured,andwitheveryassaultthetimebetweenthe

openingshotsbeingfiredtothefinalroombeingclearedwasgettingshorter.Thebuildingshookwithflat,muffledbangsandflickeredwiththestrobingflashesofconcussiongrenades.Shoutingtroopersyelled in terse shorthand, a simple battle cant that had clearly been honed over years of servicetogetherontheirbenightedhomeworld.

IthadtakenDahanlessthanasecondtocomprehendthesimplecodingsoftheircant,relyingasitdidon localargotandembeddedcultural references.A simple indexscanofdatabase:Cadia,andamatchingofshoutstoactionsprovidedthenecessarysyntaxkeytounlockthemorecomplexorders.Aninefficientmeansofrelayingcommands,butwithoutaccesstothenoosphereoranybinaric linkbetween soldiers, it was the best means of conveying orders in the heat of battle withoutcompromisingoperationalsecurity.

The vast training deck echoed with barks of las-fire and detonations, shouted orders and theroaringof tankengines.Spanningalmost theentirewidthof theSperanza, thisareaoftheshipwasentirelygivenovertocombatdrills,trainingfacilitiesandexercisegrounds.Entirearmiescouldtrainhere, utilising the time between origin and destination to turn newly-raised regiments into battle-readyformationsbythetimeajourneywasover.

Any number of battlescapes could bemocked up. Entire cities could be raised in prefabricatedpermacrete,desertssculptedbydozerrigsorvastforestsembeddedintheground.ThetrainingdeckwasDahan’sfiefdomaboardtheSperanza,andhepridedhimselfthattherewerenobattle-scapeshecould not create with his logistical resources, no testing ground that would not offer a host ofchallengestoatrainingforce.

Accompanied by a cluster of servitor scribes, skitarii guildmasters and apprenticemagi,Dahanmadehiswaythroughthesafezoneinthecentreofthedeckonthebackofanopen-toppedvariantoftheRhinochassiswithaquad-mountedbatteryofheavyboltersfittedtoitsglacis.KnownasanIronFist,ithadbeendevelopedfromascrapofSTCdatauncoveredonforgeworldPorphetuspriortoitsloss to thebio-horrorsof theGreatDevourer. Ithadyet toachieve fullMechanicus ratification,butDahanlikeditsbluntprofileandthesingle-mindednessofitspurposeenoughtoemployitregardlessofitsunofficialstatus.

Itsmachine-spiritwasabellicosething,eagertobeatwar,andhecouldfeelitsurgetotakepartinthebattledrillsbeingcarriedouttoeitherside.Dahanshareditsdesire,forhetoohadbeenbuiltforwar and the taking of life.Every facet of his fleshwas enhanced to kill: implanted rotator cannonssheathed over his shoulders, sub-dermal lightning claws and digital scarifiers in his wrists andfingertips, targetprioritisers, electrically-charged floodstream, flame-retardant skin coatings, three-hundred-and-sixty-degreecombatawarenesssurveyorpackages,andenhancedsubstrateammunitionstorage.

Dahanwasakillingmachine,amathematicianofdeath.Withoversixteenbillioncombatsinloadedandstructurallyanalysed,hisstatisticalsynthesisofthe

fightingstylesofahundredandforty-threelifeformshadenabledhimtocompileadatabaseofalmosteverycombatmovepossible.FewweretheopponentswhocouldsurpriseHirimauDahan,andfewer

stillwouldhaveachanceofbestinghim.Dividing his multi-faceted eyes and senses between the various battle drills being carried out

around his tank, Dahan soaked up the myriad sources of information being generated by thethousandsofsoldiersworkingthroughpunishingcombatsimulations.

Cadiantanksrolledthroughamock-upofaruinedcityscape,drivenwithmachine-likeprecisionasautomatedgunemplacementssetuptomimicdug-inenemyunitsopenedfire.Nosoonerwaseachpositionrevealed,thanapairofsupportingtankswouldengagetheenemyasthetargettankracedforcover.With theenemysuppressed, twinHellhoundtankswouldroll in fromthe flanksandunleashblazingstreamsofpromethiumovertheirposition.

Infantry moved up in support of the tanks, ensuring any remaining enemy soldiers wereeliminated. Sniper units riding on the roofs of Chimera armoured fighting vehicles took shots ofuncannyaccuracytotakeoutambushteamsarmedwithmissilelaunchersoranyotherformoftank-killer.

Witheachpass,Mechanicusgene-bulkedogrynsandheavylifterrigswouldmoveinandrearrangethe cityscape’s plan in ever more elaborate and deadly ways, with blind corners, fire-pockets, kill-zones, funnel-streets and herringbone crossfires. And every time, the Cadians rolled through withcool, disciplined fury,meeting everynew threatwith confident rigour.Evenon themost testingofbattlefield arrangements, few tankswere lost, and even thennonewere beyond the ability of Atlassalvageteamstorecoverandrepair.

Other units practisedmarksman drill, yetmore close-combat operations. Officers in black andgrey,withbronzedbreastplates andpeaked caps, shoutedorders, and even theblack, storm-coatedcommissarsweretrainingashardasanyofthesoldiers;somethingofararityamongtheGuardunitsDahanhadfoughtalongside.

Itwas,Dahanreflected,athingofbeautytowatchbattlebeinggivenwithpurityofpurpose.FewfleshandbloodregimentscouldachieveanythingclosetoMechanicus levelsofefficiencyin

war,andDahanhadtoadmitthatKotovhadchosenwellbyrequestingaformationofCadians.Yes,theywereanefficientfightingforce,buttheywerenoskitarii.Dahan’sownwarriorsfoughtthroughabattlescapecomprisingamixtureofterraintypes.Urban

ruins,ruggeddesertanddenseforests.Armouredinblack,withform-fittingbodyarmour,theskitariifoughtwithout the grunting, sweating exertion of theCadians.With physiques boosted by stimm-shunts, adrenal boosters and dormantmuscle-enhancers, they had not the need for the aggressiveyells that dulled the fear response and triggered hormonal changes to enable a soldier to flout hisbody’ssurvivalinstinct.

Carefully controlled chemical stimulants drove skitarii bodies, together with mechanisedaugmentationstoboostaccuracy,strengthandspeed.Alreadythebestoftheregimentsfromwhichtheyhadbeenplucked,thesesoldiersweretheeliteoftheMechanicus,renderedintosomeofgalaxy’spremierfightingmenandwomen.

Very infrequently, Dahan would observe a combat manoeuvre being carried out with below-optimalefficiencyandaterseburstofbinarywouldblurtfromhisthroataugmittertoissuerectifyingcommandsandpunishmentdata.Dahanwasamasteroftheartsofwar,atacticianandawarrior,a

magoswhohadbecomehisowntest-bedfortheweaponupgradesandfightingstylesinloadedfromother skitarii forces through the forgeworldManifold.To fight andkill in evermore inventiveandefficientwayswasDahan’smeansofdrawingclosertotheOmnissiah.AstheMachine-Godrevealednewandevermoredeadlyformsofendinglife,Dahanmadeithismissioninlifetolearnthemallandtoexcelinallthelethalarts.

Hepausedbytheruinedstructureofabarracksbuildingasamobofsweatingsoldiersemergedfromwithin.Theirskinwasruddyandgleamingwithsweat.Uniformswererumpledanddusty,andto all outward appearances, the troopers appeared to be an ill-disciplined bunch. Their captain ledthem from the buildingwith a rifle slung over his shoulder, itsmuzzle drooling fumes from heat-discharge.

Thebuilding’snoosphericdataregistereditascleared,andDahanscannedfordeathmarkersonthesoldiers.Thebarracksstructurewasoneofthemostlethalfacilitiestoassault,andDahanpausedandhaltedtheIronFistwithapulseofthoughtalongtheMIUlinkedtoitsmachine-spirit.

<Diagnostic;Barracksstructure.Defencesfuntionalityreport.>Reams of data streamed from the walls of the barracks like illuminated smoke. Each of the

automated defence systems, servitor-crewed weapons and random kill permutations designed toinflictmaximumcasualtieswerefullyfunctional.

YettheCadianshadcaptureditwithoutlosingasingletrooper.ThesideoftheIronFistopenedupandDahanunpluggedfromthemachine-spiritashestepped

down to thedeck.TheCadiansaltered step, ready togivehimawideberth,butheheldupahard-skinnedhandtostopthem.

‘CaptainHawkins,yoursoldierstookthebarracksstructure.’‘Isthataquestion?’askedthecaptain.‘No,’repliedDahan,pushingbackhishoodtorevealhishalfflesh,halfmachineskull.‘Diditsound

likeone?’‘Isupposenot,butmyearsarestillringingfromaconcussiongrenadeManosthrewalittlelater

thanI’dhaveliked.’Thechastenedtroopershruggedandsaid,‘Ican’thelpitifyou’resoeagertogettogripswiththe

enemy,youdon’twaitfortheblast.Sir.’Hawkinsnoddedgrudgingly.‘Fairpoint,Manos.So,adept,whatcanwedoforyouorareyoujust

heretocongratulateusonanothersterlingoperation?’‘IamHirimauDahan,andthisismytrainingdeck.Idesignthecombatsimulationsandengineer

thedifferingtacticalsituationals.’‘Thenyou’redoingabang-upjob,’saidHawkins.‘Thesearesomeprettytoughfishes.’‘Fishes?’saidDahan.‘Iamnotfamiliarwithpiscinelifeasitappliestocombatoperations.’HawkinsgruntedinwhatDahanassumedwasamusement,butitwasanofficerwhosebiometrics

identifiedhimasLieutenantTaybardRaethatanswered.‘It’sanacronym,sir.StandsforFightingInSomeone’sHab.It’swhatwecallbuildingclearances.’

‘Isee,’saidDahan.‘Ishalladdittomycombatlexicon:Cadians.’Hawkinsjerkedhisthumbinthedirectionofthebarracks. ‘Yeah,wecapturedit,thoughitwasa

closerunthing.’‘Youlostnomen.’‘That’susually thewayI like torunmyoperations,’ saidHawkins,earninggrimchuckles froma

fewofhistroopers.‘The barracks structure is one of themost lethal buildings to fight through,’ said Dahan. ‘I am

surprisedyouwereabletotakeitwithoutloss.’‘Thenyoudon’tknowmuchaboutCadians.’‘Onthecontrary,’saidDahan, ‘Ihaveinloadedoverthirtythousandcombatengagements logged

byCadianregimentsand/orrecordedbyMechanicusforcestowhichtheywereattached.’‘Youdon’tlookmuchlikeamagos,’saidHawkins.‘Areyousomekindofskitariiofficer?’‘I amamagos,’ saidDahan. ‘A Secutor to be precise. I specialise in combatmathematics, battle

metricsandwarfareatalllevels:fromclosecombattomassmobilisations.’‘Yeah,youlookprettyhandyinafight,’saidHawkins.‘Youshouldtrainwithussometime.Begood

toseehowtheMechanicusfight.Yourskitariilookliketheycanhandlesometoughscrapes.’‘TheyarethemostefficientfightingforceaboardtheSperanza,’saidDahan,allowingamodulation

ofpridetoenterhisvoiceashecommunicatedthesentimentvianoosphericmeanstohistroopers.LieutenantRaenoddedtowardsagantryrailingthatranthelengthofthetrainingdeck.‘Ithinktheymightarguewiththat,’hesaid.Dahanturnedashiscombatawarenessroutinesflashedupwithared-linedthreatwarning.High on the gantry above them stood seven figures,KulGilad and sixwarriors in blackpower-

armouredwarplate.TheBlackTemplarssurveyedthebattledrillsplayingoutbelowthem,butDahancoulddiscernnothingoftheirreactions.Thewarriors’armourwasdarktohim,theirmachine-spiritsuncommunicativeandsilenttohisinterrogatives.

DahancalleduptoKulGilad.‘Doyoujoinusforcombatoperationdrills?’ThetoweringReclusiarchshookhishead.‘No,MagosDahan.Wemerelyobserve.’‘Onthisdeck,nooneobserves,’saidDahan.‘Youfightoryouleave.’‘Traininginthisarenawouldservenopurpose,’saidKulGilad.‘Itsenvironmentsaretooforgiving

totestus.’‘Ibelieveyouaremistaken,’saidDahan.‘Thenyoudon’tknowmuchaboutBlackTemplars,’saidKulGilad.

Fifteen hours later, theSperanza finally broke the gravitational bonds of Joura. It turned its prowtowards theouteredgesof thesystemas theblue-hotsunof itsenginesection flaredandshifted itfromgeostationaryanchor.Evenshiftingitsattitudefractionallywasenoughtoboostthecraftawayfromtheblue-greenplanetbelow,andindeferencetothosethathadhelpedreadyitfor its journey,MagosSaiixekfeatheredtheengineoutputstocreateaswirlingflareofvariantradiationoutputsthatdescendedthroughtheatmospheretoproduceavividauroraoverthenorthernhemisphere.Thoughsuch a gesture seemed out of character for the adepts of the Mechanicus, it was customary fordeparting explorator fleets to acknowledge the labours of those who had furnished themwith the

meanstoventureintotheunknown.At leastfiftyshipsremainedinorbit,stillsuckledbytheindustryoftheworldbelow.TheGuard

muster for thePergamusSectorstillhadweeks togobefore itsLordsMilitantwouldconsider theirloadingandsupplycomplete.Tomusterenoughmenandmaterielforalengthycampaignwasnotanoperation toundertake lightly.Thepresenceof somanyMechanicus logistershadhelpedspeed theprocess, and in thanks, the shipmasters of themuster ordered their gun decks to fire thunderousbroadsidesintospaceintheirhonour.

On the planet’s surface, millions of eyes turned to the heavens, staring in wonder at theshimmeringbandsofvariegatedcolourthatsparkledthroughthetropospherelikeanorbitalbarrage.Amidthisgloriouscascadeofirradiatedexhaustdustandexpendedmunitions,theKotovFleetbrokeorbitwithCaptainSurcouf’svessel in the lead.The fleet turnedtowards theunknown,ona journeywhose ending no one could predict. Alongside theRenard, the Black Templars ship Adytum knifedthroughspacelikeabladethrusttotheheart.

Where the rogue trader vesselwasdesignedwith ameasure of flourish in its tall towers, flaredwing section andneedlessly aerodynamicprofile, the shipwrights of theAdeptusAstartes hadbuilttheircraftwithbutasinglepurpose.ThoughsmallincomparisontomostshipsemployedbytheSpaceMarines, the Adytum was a scrapper, a battle-scored veteran of a hundred or more vicious voidengagements.

Andwithabattle squadofSpaceMarines ledby aReclusiarchaboard, its fightingprowesswasmultipliedexponentially.

Ahostofcraftfollowedthethreeleadvessels:refineryships,mininghulks,vesselsthatwerelittlemore than vast atomic reactors,manufactory ships, vastwater-bearing haulers, repair ships, and ahostof fleet tenders that couldbe employedasgeneralworkhorses to ferrymenandwarmachinesbetween the fleet. In addition to theworking ships of the fleet, ArchmagosKotov had assembled aMechanicuswarfleetwithwhichtopiercetheveiloftheHaloScar.

TheRetribution-classvesselCardinalBorashadbeenconstructedintheshipyardsofRayvenscragIVnearlyfivethousandyearsagoandwasnostrangertosuchvoyagesofexploration.AspartofafleetledbyRogueTraderVentunius,ithadventureddeepintothenorthernrimofthegalaxyandhadbeenoneofonlyfivevesselstoreturn.ItsgunshadendedtheRegimeofIronatthebattleofKorsk,anditsproudhistoryincludedbattlehonoursearnedinovereighteendifferentsectorfleets.Ithadfoughtaspart of Battlefleet Gothic against the fleets of the Arch-Enemy, andwith this latest secondment, itwouldonceagainventurebeyondthelightoftheAstronomican.

MoonchildandWrathchild,twoGothic-classcruisersthathadbeenlittlemorethanblazingwreckswhen theMechanicus had salvaged them off the shoulder of Orion, flanked theCardinal Boras likedevoted followers. Rebuilt and refitted to better serve the Mechanicus, their hulls had beenconsecrated at the Terminus Nox of Phobos and Deimos, when the regenerative aspects of theOmnissiahwereattheirapogee.StalwartsoftheAdeptusMechanicusfightingfleets,bothvesselshadbeen virtually conjoined since their rebirth anddeployments to separate battlefleetshad seen themsufferinexplicablemechanicalbreakdownsandsystem-widefailuresuntiltheyhadbeenreassignedtoworktogether.

To repay a centuries-oldDebita Fabricata toArchmagosKotov, the forgeworldVoss PrimehaddespatchedthreeheavilyarmedescortcruisersfromBattlefeleetArmageddontostandforMars.TwoEndurance-classvessels,HonourBladeandMortisVosssailedinarrowheadformationwithBladeofVoss,an Endeavour-class ship killer. All three vessels bore honour markings bestowed by BattlefleetArmageddon, andMortis Voss, whose mater-captain had delivered the deathblow to the greenskinflagshipChoppa,borethepersonalheraldryofPrincepsZarha,thefallenCroneofInvigilata.

Squadronsofmodified frigates,destroyers andahost of local systemvessels flewas anhonourguard to the Explorator Fleet, though they would turn back at the system’s edge. With enoughresourcestosustainafleetexpeditionbeyondthestarsformanyyearsandenoughfirepowertofendoffallbutthemostpowerfulenemies,theKotovFleetwasaswellpreparedasitwaspossibletobe.

Timewouldtellifthatwouldbeenough.

MACROCONTENTCOMMENCEMENT:+++MACROCONTENT002+++

Intellectistheunderstandingofknowledge.

+++InloadInterrupt+++

Runestonesfellfromthedelicatelywroughtbowl,thegrainofthewoodexpertlynurturedbyKhareilithe Shaper to form rippled patterns that made sweet music when water poured through themicrogroovesinthesurface.Ithadbeenathoughtfulgift,oneintendedtocalmthesoul,butnosoftmusicandnosereneshapingcouldcalmtheachingsadnessinBielanna’sheart.

Shesatcross-leggedinoneoftheAspectshrine’smanybattledomes, itscurvedwallshungwithswords,axes,pikesandbladesthatfewarmourersbeyondBiel-Tancouldname.EachwasfashionedwiththecustomarygraceofBielanna’srace,butpossessedabrutalpurityofpurposecommontothewarriors of her craftworld. Theirs was amartial philosophy, one of war and reconquest, and eachaspectofBiel-Tan’spathsreflectedthatoverridingethos.

Bielannaknewsheriskedagreatdealbycomingto theShrineof theTwilightBlade; theAspectWarriorsdidnotwelcomeoutsiderstotheirsacredplaces.Fewareasaboardaneldarshipofwarweredeniedtoafarseer,butevenshemightbepunishedforthistransgression.

Theredsandbeneathherwassoftandwarm.Warriorshadtrainedhererecently,andshecouldreadtheballetoftheircombatintheridges,foldsanddepressionsinthesand.Awarriorofincredibleskillhaddancedwithonewhosefootworkwasmorecomplex,butwhohad–intheend–losttotheironcontrolofhisopponent.AsBielanna’ssensesflowedintotheskein,shefollowedthethreadsofthewarriors back into the past, seeing shadowy ghost-figures spinning and leaping around her. Theireverymovementwas fluid,economicalanddeadly.Thephantomshapesspunaroundherwithevergreaterfuryasshelookeddownatthewraithbonerunestonesinthesand.

TheScorpionandtheDoomofEldanesh.BothlyingatoptheTearsofIsha.The pattern was familiar to her, each one tracing the line of fate’s weave. Between them they

representedskeinsoffuturesthathadalreadybeenrealised,thatwereyettobe,andwhichmightneverbe.Theybraidedtogetherininnumerablethreads,andeachonewas–inturn–madeupofadizzyingnumberofpotentialfutures,makingthetaskofinterpretationandmanipulationalmostimpossible.

Thecornersofherfull-lippedmouthtwitchedatherchoiceofwords.Almost.Shehadspentoveracenturylearninghowtoreadthewindsoffateintheshrineofthefarseers,

butevenso,herknowledgewaswoefullyincomplete.Thefutureswerefracturing,thethreadsoffateunravellingfromtheircomplexbraids.Somewerebeingextinguished,whileotherswererevealed,butthroughallofthesplinteringofthefuture,onestrandremainedachinglyconstant.

Onethatnoamountofhermanipulationscouldavoid,aseeminglyfixedpointinfate.‘Itwasagoodbout,’saidavoicebehindher.Shehadn’theardhisapproach,butnorwouldshehave

expectedtohearthestealthyadvanceofsoformidableawarrior.Shewasjustsurprisedhehadwaitedthislongtorevealhimself.

‘Vayneshisveryskilful,’shesaid.‘Youhavetaughthimwell.’‘Ihave,buthewillneverbeatme.Angercloudshisconcentrationandblindshimtoattack.’‘Youtoyedwithhim,’saidBielanna.‘Icountedatleastthreetimesyoucouldhaveendedthefight

withakillingstrike.’‘Only three? You are not looking close enough,’ growled the warrior, moving around to stand

beforeher.‘IcouldhavekilledhimfivetimesbeforeIchosetotakethedeathblow.’TariquelwascladinhisfullStrikingScorpionaspectarmour,withonlyhisheadleftbare.Itsplates

wereasubtlemixofgreenandivory,edgedwithflutedlinesofgoldandinlaidmother-of-pearl.Hisfeatures were hard-edged now, but Bielanna remembered when he had followed the Path of theDancerandweptasheperformedSwansofIsha’sMercy.

Sheblinkedawaythememory.ThatTariquelwaslonggoneandwouldneverreturn.Theiceinhiseyestoldherthatshehadoffendedhim.Hadhiswar-maskbeentotheforeandfully

enmeshedwithhiswarriorAspect,hemightwellhavekilledherforsuchacomment.‘Iapologise,’saidBielanna.‘Myfullattentionwasnotonreadingthesworddance.’‘Iknow,’saidTariquel,kneelingbeforeher.‘Youshouldnotbehere.Seersarenotwelcomeinthe

ShrineoftheTwilightBlade.Thisisaplacewherethreadsareended,notwheretheycontinueintothefuture.’

‘Iknow.’‘Thenwhyareyouhere?’‘The human fleet is leaving the coreworld at this system’s heart,’ said Bielanna. ‘We will soon

emergefromconcealmenttoenterthewebwayinpursuitoftheirfoolishexpedition.’‘TheheartbeatofKhainewithintheinfinitycircuitalreadytoldmethat,’saidTariquel.‘Youdidnot

needtocomeheretodeliverthisnews.’‘True,’saidBielanna,liftingacloth-wrappedbundlefromthesandbesideher.‘Icameherebecause

Iwantedtobringyouagift.’‘Idonotwantit.’‘Youdon’tknowwhatitis.’‘Itisirrelevant,’saidtheStrikingScorpion.‘Giftshavenoplacehere.’‘Thisonedoes,’shesaid,holdingoutthecloth.Tariqueltookthebundleandunwrappeditwithquick,impatientmotion.Hiseyesfelluponwhat

wascontainedwithinitsfoldsandhisfeaturessoftenedforthebriefestmomentasherecogniseditssignificance.

‘Itisugly,’hesaidatlast.‘Yes,’sheagreed.‘Itis,butitbelongshere,inatempleofwar.’Tariquelgrippedtheleather-wrappedswordhiltwithfingersthatweretoodelicatetohandlesuch

abrutish,clumsyweapon.Thehiltwaspugnaciouslyforged,itsbellicoseformbeatenintosubmissionwithhammersandmoltenheat.Nowonderthemetalhadfailedinthecrucibleofcombatandcausedtheblackblade to snap ahandspanabove thequillons.Whatweaponwouldnot turnon itswielderaftersotraumaticabirth?

Abroken chainof cold irondangled from the flared cross of its pommel, the last link cut clean

throughwithasinglestrike.‘Verywell,IshallpresentittoExarchAriganna.Shewilldecideifweshouldkeepit.’‘Thankyou,’saidBielanna.‘Wasthishissword?’‘No,’saidBielanna.‘HewasnotamongtheslainofDantium.’‘Thenyoushouldtakegreatercareinyourrunecasting,’snappedTariquel,hiswar-maskslipping

overhisfeatures.‘Eldarliveswerelostinthatbattle.Nowyousayitwasfornothing?’Bielannashookherhead. ‘Nothingeverhappens in isolation,Tariquel,’shesaid,strugglingfora

way to explain to him the complexities of acting on visions from the skein. ‘What happened onDantiumneededtohappen.Ithasbroughtustothispoint,andwithoutthosehumandeaths,thefutureImustshapemightnevercometopass.’

‘Yourwordsarefleetinglikethewarpspiderandjustasinsubstantial,’saidTariquel.‘Humanfatesaresobriefandficklethattheyaredifficulttofollowwithanyrealprecision.’‘Soagainwegotowartoreclaimalostfuturewithuncertaintyasourtouchstone?’‘Wemust,’saidBielanna,gatheringupherrunesinthepatternedbowlandswirlingthemaround

oncemore.Tariquelreachedoutwithablindinglyswifthandandgrippedherwristhardenoughtodrawagrimaceofpain.

‘TheStarblade is a large vessel,’ said Tariquel. ‘Surely there are other placesmore suited to thecastingofrunesthananaspectshrine?’

‘Thereare,’agreedBielanna,asthewarriorreleasedherarm.Tariquel nodded towards the runestones in the bowl, and the gentle soul he had been before

Khaine’ssirensonghadcalledtohimswamtothesurfaceforaheartbeat.‘Doeswhatwedoherebringthefutureyouseekanycloser?’TearswelledinBielanna’seyesasshepicturedthetwoemptycotsinherchambers.‘Notyet,’shesaid.‘Butitwill.Itmust.’

Microcontent07

Hewasaleviathan,amightybio-mechanicalconstructengineeredfarbeyondthenaturalevolutionarynorm for his kind. His structure was immense, self-sustaining and driven to grow larger, anamusinglybiologicalimperative;exist,consume,procreate.Tobeofironandoil,stoneandsteelwastoknowpermanence,but if the fleshyremnantsat theheartof theseperceptionsknewanything, itwasthatnothingfashionedbythehandofManwaspermanent.

Seated upon his command throne and linked to themachine heart of the Speranza via dermalhaptics,MIUs and theManifold,ArchmagosLexellKotov felt the spirit of his ship rushing throughhim, itsmillennialheartaroaringcascadeof informationthatsurgedaroundhisfloodstreamlikeachurningriverof light.Evenwithsomanypointsofconnection,heonlydaredskimtheuppermostlevelsof theenormousstarship’smind.Anydeeperandhe riskedbeingsweptawayby itspowerfulmagnificence,drownedintheliquidstreamsofinterleaveddata.

TheSperanza’smachine-spiritwasordersofmagnitudegreaterthananybio-augmentedsentiencehe had encountered. It could easily consume the totality of his mortal mind and leave his body avacant,brain-deadshellwithnomoresenseofitsownexistencethanaservitor.Kotovhadonceriskedlinking his mind’s full cognitive functions with the wounded heart of a forge world to avert acatastrophicreactorfailure,buttheSperanzadwarfedeventhatmightyspirit.

Forge worlds were seething cauldrons of pure function, singularly directed to the point ofmindlessness, entire planets ofmanufactories driven to extremes of production that could only beyoked by the tens of thousands ofMartian adepts thronging their surfaces. TheSperanza held thatsame function, butwasunfettered from fixed stellar geography, a forgeworld that could travel thestars,amightyengineofcreationtorivalthescaleofthosecraftedintheGoldenAgeofTechnology.

Its discovery had been accidental, a chance accretion of aberrant code bleeding from itsslumberingmind-coreintothedataenginesofKotov’shightempleontheforgeworldofPalomar.Atfirst,hehaddismissed thebinaric leakage,believing it tobeghostemissions from long-deactivatedmachines, but as his infocytes scoured the deep networks for similar code geometries, a patternemergedthatgraduallyrevealedsomethingunbelievable.

ThefullmightofKotov’sanalyticaehadbeenbroughttobear,andthedivergentpathsofthedata

bleedwerequicklyidentified.Eventhen,noonehadfullyrealisedtheenormityofwhattheneurally-conjoinedadeptswereuncovering.OnlyafterphysicalexploratorteamshadspentthebetterpartofacenturyverifyingtheouteredgesofthecodefootprinthadKotovdaredtobelievethatwhatwasbeingrevealedcouldbetrue.

OneofthelegendaryArkMechanicus.Buriedinthesteelbedrockofhisforgeworldforthousandsofyears.Onlyahandfulofsuchincrediblevesselsweresaidtoexist,andtohavediscoveredoneintactwasa

miracletorival thatofstumblingacrossafullyfunctioningSTCsystem.Noneoftherecovereddatascraps could identify the ship,whichastoundedKotov, for itwas a central tenetof theMechanicusnevertodeleteanything.Forallintentsandpurposes,theshiphadneverexistedbeforenow.Atfirst,Kotov believed its long-dead crew had somehow managed to land the vast starship intact on theplanet’ssurfaceandthensubsumeditintotheworld’smetalstrata.

OnlyasmoreoftheshiphadbeenrevealeddidKotovfinallyunderstandthetruth.Theshipwasincomplete.Portionsofthestarshipremainedtobeconstructed,andithadneverbeenlaunched.Forreasons

unknown, its builders had abandoned the project in its final stages and simply incorporated theexistingstructureintotheplanet’sexpandingskeinofindustry.Theshiphadbeenforgotten,anditshallsoftechnologicalmarvelsandgrandambitionwereswallowedbytheevolvingforgeworlduntilnohintofitsoriginalstructurecouldbediscerned.

Andso ithad remained formillenniauntil thewill of theOmnissiahhadbrought itback to thelight.Kotovlikedtobelievetheshiphadwantedtobefound,thatithaddreamedoftakingtothestarsandfulfillingthepurposeforwhichithadbeendesigned.

Ithadtakenhimthreecenturiestopriseitloosefromthestructuresbuiltontoitssubmergedhull,and another two to coax it into spacewith a fleet of load lifters and gravity ballast. Its unfinishedelements had been completed in the orbital plates, the disassembled components of three systemmonitors providing the necessary steelwork and missing elements of tech. His shipyards had theexpertise and required STC designs to render the ship space-worthy, but reviving its dormantmachine-spirithadbeenanothermatterentirely.Ithadsleptawaytheaeonsasaforgottenrelic,andKotovknewhehadtoreminditofitsancientdutytocontinuetheQuestforKnowledge.

Kotov had communedwith dying forgeworlds, calmed rebellious Titans and purged corrupteddataenginesofprimordialscrapcode,buttheancientspiritoftheSperanzahadalmostdestroyedhim.Atgreatrisktohisownmind,hehaddraggeditstorpidsoulintobeing,fanningthebrightsparkoftheOmnissiahthatlayattheheartofeverymachineintoasearingblazeofrapturouslight.

Butsuchaviolentbirthwasnotachievedwithoutcost,forallnewbornsfearleavingthepeaceofsolitudeinwhichtheyhaveenduredtheepochs.Likeawoundedbeast,ithadlashedoutinagonisedburstsofarchaiccodeallaroundthebio-neuralnetworksofPalomar.Itsmachinescreamsoverloadedtheforgeworld’scarefullybalancedregulatorynetworksandbroughttheplanettoruinintheblinkofan eye. Hundreds of reactor cores were driven to critical mass in an instant and the subsequentexplosionslaidwastetoentirecontinents.Irreplaceablelibrarieswerereducedtoash,moltenslagorhowlingcodescraps.Millionsoftanks,battle-enginesandweaponsdesperatelyneededforMankind’s

endlesswarswerelostintheradioactivehellstorm.BythetimetheSperanza’sbirthrageshadsubsided,every livingsoulontheplanet’ssurfacewas

deadandeverysurvivingforge irradiatedbeyondanyhopeofrecovery, leavingagapingshortfall inKotov’sproductiontithes.Yetthelossofanentireforgeworldwasasmallpricetopay,fortheancientstarshipnowremembereditselfanditsgloriousfunction.Thoughanumberoftheship’slowerdeckshad been impregnated with contaminated dust blown up by planet-wide radiation storms, themajorityofitsstructurehadbeensparedtheworstravagesofthedestructionithadunleashed.

Havingfreeditfromtheworldofitsbirth,KotovnamedtheshipSperanza,whichmeant‘hope’inone of the discarded languages of Old Earth. It had welcomed the name and Kotov watched withpaternal pride as the vastmachine-spirit flowed into the body of the ship, learning anddevelopingwitheveryiterationofitsgrowth.

TheSperanza’smind swiftlybecameagestalt entitywoven from theassimilated spiritsof all themachines that made up its superlative structure. Even the great data engines of the AdamantCiboriumwerelittlemorethanspecksinthemassofitscolossalmindspace,alinkedhivemindinthepurestsenseoftheword.IntheheartoftheSperanzaallcognitionwassharedinthesameinstant,andnopurerformofthoughtexisted.

JusttogazeuponsoperfectanaccumulationofdatawastobeinthepresenceoftheOmnissiah.

Abrehemhadthoughtfuellingtheplasmadriveshadbeenthemostthanklesstaskhehadeverbeenforced to endure, but pressure-scouring their vent chambers of the byproducts of combustion hadsurpassedeventhat.Everytenhours,thedriveswouldexcreteavolcanicmixofplasmaembers,toxicchemicalsludgeandresidualheavymetalsburnedfromtheinternalcoatingsofthedrives.

Thiswasdumpedfromtheundersidesofthedrivecylindersintoarchedreclamationhallsbelowthecombustionchambers,giganticopenspaceswithblackwallsthatburbledwithfaintblueghostsofcode that Abrehem perceived like reflected light on the underside of a bridge. Glassy, razor-sharpwastematerialslayheapedingreatdunesofreflectivegreychips,muchofwhichwouldberecycledforuse elsewhere in the ship. The reclamation halls were chokingwastelands of poisonous chemicals,mordantsludge,highlyflammablefumesandcausticfogs.Enormousdozer-vehicleswithvulcanisedwheelsthatsmokedfromthecorrosiveeffectof theengine leavingsploughedthroughthebillowingdriftsofwaste,bulldozingitintotheenormoussilosmountedonthebacksofrumblingcargohaulers.

Oncethedozershadbeenthrough, linesofbondsmeninthreadbareenvironmentsuitsthathadprobablybeenoldwhentheprimarchsbestrodetheImperiumadvancedinraggedlineslikesoldierson some archaic battlefield. The first wave struggled with long pressure hoses that blasted boilingwateratthefloor,whilethesecondcamearmedwithwideshovelsandsweeperstogatherupeverylastscreedofloosenedmaterial.

Nothingwaswasted,andshimmeringveilsofglassyparticulatethrownupbytheworksparkedinthe air, clogged air filters and ensured that everyman coughed up abraded oesophageal tissue thefollowing day. After only a day in the reclamation halls, Abrehem noticed his arms and face werecoveredwithanundulatinglayerofscabbedblisters.Everyoneonreclamationdutyborethescarsof

the day’s work, but no one seemed to care. Abrehem’s eyes stung with chemical irritants and thegranulardustcaughtinthefoldsofskinaroundhiseyes,makinghimweepthinrivuletsofblood.

Daysandnightsbecameindistinguishable intheartificial twilightof thestarship’sunderbelly,aconstant rotationofbrutallydemanding tasks that seemedcalculated toerodeanysenseofpassingtime.Abrehem’schestached,hishandsandfeetwereblisteredandtorn,hishairhadbegunto thinnoticeablyandhisgumswerebleeding.Theirexistencewasabenightedtreadmillofthanklesseffortthatstrippedawayeverythingthatmadelifeworthliving.Eachdayworetheirhumanitydownuntilallthatwasleftwaslittlebetterthananorganicautomaton.Itwasenoughtobreakthespiritsofeventhemostdefiantbondsman.Witheachdaythatpassed,thecomplaintsgrewlessandlessasthefightwasdrivenoutofeveryonebytherelentlessgrindandunendinghorrorofeachtask.

Abrehemcould feelhimself slippingaway,andpressedahand to thepockethe’d stitched inhisoveralls,wherehekeptthepictureofEliandZera.Theideathathewouldsoonbejoiningthemwasallthat kept him going, and it would sustain him until the Emperor finally took him intoHis realm.Coynewasfaringlittlebetter,spendinghisshiftsinbroodingsilenceandhisdownshiftscurledinafoetalpositiononhishardmetalbunk.

Butonemanstillhadsomefightinhim.HawkehadproventobemorephysicallyandmentallyresilientthanAbrehemhadexpected,faring

betterthanmanyoftheothermenandwomenwho’dcomeaboardwiththem.Abrehemhadcometotheconclusion thatHawke’sbitternessandspitenourishedhimwhenhis reservesof strengthwerespent.When they worked side by side, a never-ending diatribe of profanity spewed from his lips,cursingeveryone fromthearchmagos tohisownpersonalnemesis,OverseerVresh.Abrehemknewthatsoldierswereamongstthemostinventiveprofaners,butJuliusHawketookthattoanotherlevelentirely.

Onthedownshifts,HawkeretoldthetalesofhislifeintheGuard,andifevenhalfofwhathesaidaboutmonstrousTraitorSpaceMarineslayingsiegetoanAdeptusMechanicusfortresswastrue,thenhecouldperhapsbeexcusedagreatdealtohavelivedthroughsuchahorrificexperience.Hisstoriesevolvedconstantlyastheyweretoldoverandovertoaneverexpandingandevermoreappreciativeaudience.HawkewouldrailagainsttheirMechanicusoverseersandspeakopenlyofrebellionagainstVreshortakingactiontoendtheirenforcedslavery.

Abrehemhadlaugheddespairingly,butnooneelsehad.Between bouts of seditious demagoguery,Hawkewould often vanish into the twistingmaze of

companionways surrounding theirdormitories todestinationsunknown,only to reappear asVreshengaged the klaxon tomark the start of thework shift.Whenever Abrehem askedwhere hewent,Hawkewouldonlytapthesideofhisnosewithaconspiratorialwink.

‘Allingoodtime,Abey,allingoodtime,’wasallHawkewouldsay.HowHawke found the energy for suchmysterious excursions remained amystery to Abrehem

until he realised how skilful theman was at avoiding anything resembling work. Arguments withVresh,forgottentools,damagedequipmentandfeignedinjuriesallconspiredtoensurethathedidfarlessworkthananyoneelseonshift.Farfrommakinghimhatedasashirker,itactuallyenhancedhisstatusasarebelandachampionofinsidiousinsurrection.

TodayhadseenVreshdespatchHawketo thesupply lockersnumeroustimes,a taskHawkehadbeenabletodragoutforseveralhoursbeyondwhatitcouldpossiblyhaverequired.Bytheendofshift,Abrehemwasutterlydrainedandcouldthinkofnothingbeyondcrawlingintohisthirdtierbunkandclosinghiseyesuntilthehatedklaxonrousedhimfromhisnightmaresofendlessslavery.

Nightmaresthatwereindistinguishablefromreality.‘Anotherdayover,eh?’saidHawke,sidlinguptohimandCoynewithagrinthatAbrehemwanted

towipeoffhisfacewithhisheavyshovel.Eveninhisexhausted,numbedstate,heknewthatwouldprobablybeabadidea.CrushafollowedHawkelikealoyalhoundandAbrehemdidn’tdoubtthatanyattempttolayahandonHawkewouldresultinaface-mashingfist.

‘Ijustwanttosleep,Hawke,’saidAbrehem.‘Yeah,me too.Beena longdaykeeping this shipgoing,’ saidHawke. ‘We’re themost important

peopleaboardthisship,youknow?’‘Isthatright?’‘Sureweare,standstoreasonifyouaskme,’saidHawkewithasagenod.‘Wedon’tdowhatwedo,

this whole machine breaks down. We might be the tiniest cogs in the machine, but we’re stillimportant,right?Everycoghasitsrole?’

‘Whateveryousay,’mumbledCoyne.‘Justsomecogsaremoreimportantthanothers,yougetme?’‘Notreally.’Hawkeshookhishead.‘Doesn’tmatter,I’llshowyouafter.’‘Show me what?’ asked Abrehem, though he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for any activity

beyondcrashinginhisbunkandgrabbingafewhoursofdisturbedsleep.‘You’llsee,’saidHawke,pushingtothefrontofthelineoftrudgingmenwithCrushafollowingat

hisheels.‘Whatwasthatabout?’askedCoyne.‘Idon’tknow,’repliedAbrehem.ItwastypicalofHawketoteasewithpromisesofsecretsandthen

backawaylikeacapriciousportsidedoxy.‘AndIdon’tthinkImuchcare.’Coynenoddedastheyemergedintowhatwasknown,withtypicalMechanicusfunctionalityand

unthinking disdain for their bondsmen’s humanity, as FeedingHall Eighty-Six.Heavy iron girderssupportedaceilingofpeelingindustrialgreypaintthatwashungwithpulsatingcables,heat-washedpipeworkandiron-casedlightsthatprovidedfitfullydimillumination.

Trestle tables arranged in long lines ran the length of the chamber, and lead-footed servitorstrudgedalongthegapsbetweenthem,dolingoutwhatwas laughinglycalledfoodtothebondsmen.Noneofitwasevenvaguelypalatable,buttheonlyotheroptionwasstarvation.

SometimesAbrehemthoughtthatmightbethebetteroption.One shiftwas just leaving,heading to theirnextworkdetail, and themen thathad just left the

toxicenvironmentofthereclamationhallsfiledintotaketheirplace.‘Throne of Terra,’ muttered Coyne as he found a place at the table, sat shoulder to shoulder

betweenamanwhose facewas amass of scabbed chem-blisters and anotherwhose forearmswerecriss-crossed in aweb of plasma flect scarring that looked entirely deliberate. Abrehem took a seat

oppositeCoyneandrestedhisheadinhishands.Neithermanspoke;exhaustion,thegrittytextureintheirthroatsandthepointlessnessofconversationkeepingthemmute.

AservitorappearedbehindCoyne,afigurethatsuperficiallyresembledahumanmale,albeitonewith pallid, ashen skin, a cranial sheath replacingmuch of his brainmatter and a series of crudeaugmentations that rendered it intoa cyborg slave thatwouldperformany taskgiven to itwithoutcomplaint. Perhaps he had once been a criminal or some other societal undesirable, but had hedeservedtobesothoroughlystrippedofhisveryhumanityandturnedintolittlemorethananorganictool?Wasthereevenmuchofadifferencebetweentheservitorandthemenitwasfeeding?

Theservitor’smouthhadbeensealedupwithathickbreathingplugandchainsencircleditshead,securing it in place,which suggested themanmight once have been a troublemaker or a seditiousdemagogue.Abarkofwhitenoiseissuedfromitsthroat-setaugmitter,andCoyneleanedtothesideasitdepositedacontouredplastictrayonthetabletop.

Containedinitsmouldeddepressionswereathick,tastelessnutrientpastewiththeconsistencyoftar,ahandfulofvitaminandstimulantpills,andatincuphalf-filledwithelectrolyte-lacedwater.

Abrehemheard theheavy treadofa servitorathisbackandsmelled the reekof freshbio-oilonnewly cored connector ports.He leaned to the correct side and a pale armplaced an identical traybeforehim.

‘Thankyou,’saidAbrehem.‘Whydoyoudothat?’askedCoyne.‘Theydon’tevenregisteryourwords.’‘Oldhabits,’hesaid.‘Itremindsmewe’restillhuman.’‘Wasteoftime,ifyouaskme.’‘WellIdidn’t,’snappedAbrehem,tootiredtoarguewithCoyne.Coyne shrugged as the servitorwithdrew its armandmovedondown the table, butnot before

Abrehem’sopticimplantshadregisteredadriftoflightfromasub-dermalelectooontheundersideofitsforearm,anamewrittenincurlinggothicscript.Heblinkedasherecognisedthenameandturnedhisownarmovertorevealanidenticalsmearofelectrically-inscribedlettering.

Savickas.‘Wait!’saidAbrehem,pushinghimselfupfromthetableandheadingaftertheservitor.Theservitorhaditsbacktohimandworeheavycanvastrousersofhigh-visibilityorange.Acurling

armaturewas implantedalong the lengthof its spine,and the left sideof its skullwasencased inabronzeheadpiece.Itpushedatrackeddispensingunitaheadofitandmovedwiththesluggishgaitofasleepwalker.

‘Isthatyou?’askedAbrehem,almostafraidtheservitorwouldanswerhim.Itdidn’tanswer,notthathehadexpecteditto,andcontinuedtodoleoutplastictraystotheseated

bondsmenfromthedispensingunitasthoughhehadn’tspoken.Abrehemmovedtostandinfrontoftheservitor,blockingitspathandpreventingitfrommoving

on.Shoutsofannoyancerosefromfartherdownthetable,butAbrehemignoredthem,tooshockedbywhathesawtomove.

‘Ismael?’saidAbrehem.‘Isthatyou?Thor’sblood,whatdidtheydotoyou?’Onceagaintheservitordidn’tanswer,buttherewasnomistakingthethinfeaturesofhisformer

shiftoverseer.Ismael’sfacewasslackandexpressionless,theaugersandbrainspikesdrivenintohisskulldestroyinghis sentienceandreplacing itwitha seriesofprogram loops,obedience flow-pathsandautonomicfunctionregulators.Oneeyehadbeenpluckedoutandreplacedwithabasicmotionandheartbeatmonitor,andIsmael’srightshoulderhadbeensubstitutedforasimple,fixed-rotationgimbalthatallowedhimtomovefoodtraysbetweenhisdispenserunitandthefeedinghalltables,butwhichhadnootheruse.

Abrehemheldouthisforearm,willinghisownelectootobecomevisible,acursivelyrenderedwordthatmatchedthemarkingsincisedbeneaththeservitor’sownskin.

‘Savickas?’saidAbrehem.‘Don’ttellmeyoudon’trememberit?ThestrongestlifterrigintheJouradocks?YouandmeandCoyne,weranatightcrew,remember?TheSavickas?Youmustrememberit.You’reIsmaeldeRoeven,shiftoverseerontheSavickas!’

AbrehemgrippedIsmaelbytheshoulders,onefleshandblood,theothersteelandmachineparts.HeshooktheservitorIsmaelhadbecomeandifhecouldstillhavecriedrealtearshewouldhavedoneso.Tearsofbloodwouldhavetobeenough.

‘Thronedamnthem,’sobbedAbrehem.‘Thronedamnthemall...’Hedidn’tevenknowwhythesightofIsmaelreducedtoalobotomisedcyborgslaveshouldupset

himsodeeply.Ismaelwashissuperiorandtheyweren’texactlyfriends.Abrehemfeltahandonhisshoulder,andhelethimselfbeeasedfromservitorIsmael’spath.No sooner had Abrehemmoved aside than Ismael continued hismono-tasked routine,moving

along the length of the table to place tray after tray of repulsive, tasteless slop before the hungrybondsmen.

Hawkestoodathisside,andhequicklymanoeuvredAbrehembacktohisseatbeforetheoverseersintervened.Hawkeeasedintotheseatnexttohim.CoynesatwhereAbrehemhadlefthim,spooningmouthfulsofpasteintohismouth.

‘Sothat’swhathappenedtohim,’musedHawke,watchingasIsmaelmovedon.‘Theymadehimintoabloodyservitor...’saidAbrehemindisgust.‘Ididn’tthinkyoutwowerethatclose,’saidHawke.‘OrdidImisssomething?’Abrehemshookhishead.‘No,weweren’tclose.Ididn’tevenreallylikehim.’‘Hewasanass,’snappedCoyne. ‘Ifitweren’tforyouandhimIwouldn’thavebeeninthatdamn

bar.I’dstillbebackhomewithmyCaella.TothewarpwithyouandtothewarpwithIsmaeldeRoeven,I’mgladtheydrilledhisbrainout.’

‘Youthinkhedeservedthat?’saidAbrehem.‘Sure,whynot?WhatdoIcare?’‘Because it couldbeyounext,’hissedAbrehem, leaningover the table. ‘TheAdeptusMechanicus

justfedhimtotheirmachinesandspatouthishumanityassomethingworthless.He’safleshchassisfortheirdamnedbionics.There’snothingleftofhimnow.’

‘Thenmaybehe’stheluckyone,’saidCoyne.‘Yourmanhasapoint,’saidHawke.‘Ismaelmightbeaslave,butatleasthedoesn’tknowit.’‘Andthatmakesitallright?’‘Ofcoursenot,butatleasthe’snotsuffering.’

‘Youdon’tknowthat.’‘True,’agreedHawke.‘Butyoudon’tknowthatheis.Listen,it’sbeenalongdayandyou’vehada

shockseeingaformerco-workerwithhalfhisbrainchoppedout.That’senoughtomakeanyonefeelabitstressed,amIrightoramIright?’

‘You’reright,Hawke,’sighedAbrehem.‘I’llbetyoucouldgoaglassofshine?’saidHawkeamiably.‘IknowIcould.’Abrehemalmostlaughed.Hesaid,‘Sure,yeah,I’dloveadrink.I’llaskOverseerVreshifhecangeta

fewdrumsrolledin.Emperorknows,I’dlovetogetdrunkrightnow.’Hawkegrinnedhisshark’sgrinandsaid,‘Thentoday,mygoodfriend,isyourluckyday.’

Kotovturnedhissensesoutwards,freeinghisperceptionsfromgolden-huedmemorytothepromiseof the future. The fleet wasmaking good time through the outer reaches of the Joura system, thecourse Mistress Tychon had plotted proving to be an exemplary display of stellar cartographicalaptitude. Blaylock was still smarting at her interference, but Tarkis was ever given to emotionalresponses–especiallyonestriggeredbyafemalewhosoopenlydisdainedtheaccumulationofvisibleaugmentation.

TheMandevillepointwasclose,andKotovcouldsensetheship’sburningdesiretobepressingonthrough theveilof the immateriumoncemore. Its labouringplasmaengineswere runningclose tomaximumtolerance,andtheriskofdrivechamberburnoutswasexponentiallyhigher.Kotovdetachedasliverofhisconsciousnessandsentitthroughthenoospheretocalmtheeagernessoftheengines.Hisaugmentedbraincouldfunctionwithfullcognitiveawarenesswhilenumerousportionsweresplitfromthewholeattendingtolesserfunctions.Ahundredormoreelementsofhisconsciousnessweresecondedtotheship’svarioussystems,yethelockedenoughofhismindwithinhiscerebralcortextomaintainhissenseofself.

Hisattentionshiftedintothatportionofthebrainlinkedtotheauspexarraysandsurveyorbanks,reading thewitch’sbrewof electromagnetic radiation in the spacearound the vasthull.He felt thestructureoftheSperanzaflexasthoughitwashisownbody,thecoldofspacemakingthefewareasofskinremainingonhisbodypuckerwithgoosebumps.

FarthestaheadwastheRenard,andKotovtookamomenttofullystudyCaptainSurcouf’svessel.Itwasafineship,heavilymodifiedwithAdeptusMechanicussanctionedrefitsandupgradestorenderitfaster,moreagileandmoreheavilyarmedthanitssizewouldsuggest.Suchmodificationswouldnothavebeenacquiredcheaplyfromaforgeworld,andgavethelietothenotionthatSurcoufhadjoinedthisexpeditionforpurelyfinancialreasons.

Kotov’sperceptionsflittedfromtheRenardtotheAdytum.Where the rogue trader vessel fairly bristledwith streams of data, the stripped-down Templars

vesselwasasdarkastheheartofablackhole,avoidofinformationwhosemachine-spiritswereclosedofftohim.Itfeltgallingandvaguelyinsultingforahigh-rankingmemberoftheMartianPriesthoodtobesothoroughlyrebuffed,butthemachinesoftheAdeptusAstarteswerealwaysquicktoassumetheattributesoftheChaptertheyserved.

Theremainderof the fleetwasonstationaroundtheSperanza, clusteredaround itsmajesty likeflunkiesataroyalcourt.Independentshardsofhissentienceissuedcorrectiveorderstoanumberofships’captainswithouthisprimaryfocushavingtodosoconsciously;manoeuvreorderstothosethathaddrawntoonear,internalsystemmodificationstothosewhosedata-networkswereaccumulatingmicro-errorsintheirworkings.

Surcouf’svesselwasahoundleadingthehuntersanddespitetheman’searlierirreverence,KotovwasforcedtoadmirehiscourageindefyingthewillofanarchmagoswiththeforceofaReclusiarchtobackhimup.HeunderstoodSurcouf’smotivationbetterthananyoftheothersaboardtheSperanza.Theythoughtthemanavainpopinjay,aroguetraderwhosoughtonlyrichesandrenown,butKotovhadthetruthofit.HeknewofSurcouf’spast,hisupbringinginUltramar,histimeasexecutiveofficeraboardtheill-fatedPreceptorandhisconsequentmisadventures.

InmanywaysheandRobouteSurcoufwereverymuchalike.ManyintheMartianPriesthoodbelievedthatriskingtheArkMechanicusonthisquestwasafool’s

errand, a last, hopeless gambit by a magos whose holdings and influence had fallen spectacularlywithinthespaceofadecade.Perhapsitwasfoolish,butKotovfounditimpossibletobelievethathisdiscoveryoftheSperanzaandSurcouf’sappearancewitharelicofTelok’slostfleetcouldnotbethewilloftheOmnissiah.

Together,theywereglimmersofhopewhenhisfaithhadbeensorelytestedbyloss.Arcetri had been the first of Kotov’s forgeworlds to fall, attacked and consumed by a questing

tendrilofHiveFleetHarbinger.Inhisignoranceofthebiologicalsubtletiesofthetyranidrace,Kotovhadassumedworldsofsteelandindustrywouldholdlittleinterestfortheserapaciousaliens.Thathadproven to be a costly assumption, for the swarm hosts had invaded with a hunger that was asunstoppableasitwasthorough.Thoughmanysacredmachinesandadeptswereevacuatedbeforethefirstsporesblottedouttheskies,manymorehadbeendevouredinoceansofdigestiveacid.

Uraniborg1572waslosttothemachinationsoftheArch-Enemy,asuddenandshockingrebellionagainsthislawfullyappointedoverseersthathadseentheresourcesofanentireforgeworldseizedbythemechanisedwarhostof the techno-hereticVotheerTark.Theembeddedskitariiandtech-priestsfought to the last to deny the planet’s assets to the enemy, but base treachery within the LegioSerpenteshadendedtheirresistancewithindays.Uraniborg1572wasnowacorrupthell-forgeoftheDark Mechanicus, a world of bloodstained iron where glorious industry that had once served theGolden Throne was now perverted to supply the bloodthirsty rampages of a mechanised daemonabominationwhocarednothingforthemachine-spiritsitviolated.

Suchagrievouslosswouldhavebeencatastrophicinisolation,butcomingsosoonafterthefallofArcetri,ithadalmostbrokenKotov.ThedestructionofPalomarwasthefinalnailinhiscoffin,orsohisdetractorshadannouncedinstrident,declarativetones.HowcouldamagoswhohadallowedthreeforgeworldstofalltoMankind’senemiesbeexpectedtomaintainhisholdingsonMars?Surely,theysaid, such forge temples as remained toMagos LexellKotov should be redistributed to other,morecapablemagibeforehisill-starredtouchcoulddestroythemtoo?

Speranzahadchangedeverything.Arriving inMars orbit with such amighty relic from an age ofmiracles had sent his enemies

slinkingintotheshadows.Mostofthemanyway;somewerecloserthanever.Therevelationof theSperanzahadboughthimtime,buthiscontinued failure tomeetprojected

tithequotasbysuchvastmarginsmeantthatitwasonlyamatteroftimeuntilhisMartianforgeswerestrippedfromhimandtheArkMechanicusseized.

This venture into unknown space in search of Telok’s lost fleetwas his last chance tomaintainwhathehadworkedsohardtoachieve.ButitwasmorethansimplythedesiretoholdontowhathehadbuiltthatdroveKotov.InhisrisethroughtheranksoftheMechanicushehadallowedhimselftoforget the first principles of the Priesthood, and the Omnissiah had punished him for his single-mindedpursuitofworldlypower.

To rediscover relics from the Golden Age of Technology was a goal whose worth no one coulddispute,andifhecouldreturnwithevenafractionofwhatTelokhadhopedtofind,hewouldbefetedasahero.Thelostmagoshadclaimedtobeinsearchofnothinglessthanthesecretsofthemythicraceof beings he believed had brought the galaxies, stars and planets into being; technology that couldchangetheveryfabricofexistence.

Fromthedustyreliquary-archivesoffar-flungruinstotheforbiddenrepositoriesinthedarkheartofthegalaxy,TelokwassaidtohavespenthisentirelifeinsearchofsomethinghecalledtheBreathoftheGods,anartefactofsuchpowerthatitcouldreignitedyingstars,turngeologicallyinertrocksintoparadiseplanetsandbreathelifeintothemoststerileregionsofwildernessspace.

Of course, Telok had been ridiculed and scorned, his so-called proofs ignored and his theoriesdiscountedastheworstkindoffoolishness.

Andyet...Alastfragmentedmessage,relayedtoMarsfrombeyondtheHaloScar,spokeofhisexpedition’s

success.AdistortedscrapofcommunicationrelayedthroughtheValetteManifoldstationwasallthatremainedoftheTelokExpedition,anincompletecodeblurtoverthreethousandyearsold.Nota lotuponwhich to base so comprehensive an expedition, but this voyagewas asmuch about faith andpilgrimageasitwasofcontrition.

KotovwouldfindtheBreathoftheGodsandreturnittoMars.Notforglory,notforrenown,andnotforpower.HewoulddothisfortheOmnissiah.

Microcontent08

Spinning back and forth, the needle on the astrogation compasswobbled on its gyroscopicmountbefore finally settling on a bearing. One that bore no relation to their actual course, but then thiscompasswasn’t part of theRenard. It had once beenmounted in the heavily ornamented captain’spulpitofthePreceptor,andhadsteeredthemtrueformanyyearsbeforethatidiotMindarushadmadeonemistaketoomany.

Roboutesatbehindapolishedrosewooddeskinhisprivatestateroom,watchingtheneedleunseatitselffromitsimaginedcourseonceagainandbeginitsfruitlesssearchforatruebearing.Hetappedtheglasswithadelicatefingernail,andalmostsmiledastheneedlestoppeditsfranticbobbing,likeahoundthathearsanechoofits longlostmaster’svoice.Nosoonerhaditstoppedthanit jerkedandbobbedasitsoughtapointofreferenceitcouldlatchonto.

‘Catchawindforme,oldfriend,’saidRoboute.Softmusic filled thestateroom,TheBalladofTrooperThom, awistful folk tune fromancientdays

that told the story of a dying soldier of the FiveHundredWorlds regaling a pretty nursewith thebeautyofthehomeworldhewouldneverseeagain.Roboutelikedtheprideandelegiacimageryinthesong,thoughitwasseldomplayednow.ToomanypeoplethoughtitwasinpoortastetosingofCalth’sformerglories,butRoboutedidn’tholdwith thatnonsense. Itwasa fine tune,andhe liked tohearwhattheblueworldhadlookedlikebeforetreacheryhadravagedit.

Roboute’s stateroom tended towards the austere, with only a few indications of the man whocaptained the ship in evidence on its walls. Most shipmasters of Ultramar kept their cabinsfundamentally bare, and Roboute was no exception, though the profitable years he had spent as aroguetraderhadbroughttheirownshareofembellishments:ascarffromagirlwho’dkissedhimashe left Bakka, a series of framed Naval commendations, a laurel rosette from his time in the IaxDefenceAuxilia–earnedincombatagainstaraidingpartyoftrans-orbitalinsurgentsfromapassingasteroid–andasmallhololithiccameodepictingthetiltedprofileofayounggirlwithtousledblondehairandasad,knowinglookinhereye.HernamewasKaten,andRobouterememberedwithachingclaritythedaythatpicthadbeentaken.ApassingpictographerhadsnappeditatthefeastdayofFirstSeedasthetwoofthemwandered,arminarm,throughthegatheredentertainersandgailycoloured

pavilionssellingcarvedkeepsakes,fresh-grownornaments,sweetmeatsandsugaredpastries.She’dbeendistantallday,andheknewwhy.HisdistinguishedserviceintheIaxDefenceAuxiliawascomingtoanend,butinsteadofhanging

uphisrifleandtakingapositioninoneofthebetterAgrarianCollectives,hehadsubmittedhisservicejackettotheNavyManifold.He’dtoldKatenithadbeennomorethanidlecuriositytoseewhatthey’dmakeofhim,butwithinamonth,aNavy recruiter came to Iaxandaggressivelypursuedhim forapositionaboardanImperialwarshipasajuniorofficer.

He’dtoldtherecruiterhe’dneedsometime,andthemanhadlefthisdetailswithawrysmilethattoldRoboutehe’dheardthatmanytimesbefore,andthathewaspreparedtowait.HeandKatenhadcontinuedwiththeirlives,buteachofthemknewintheirheartofheartsthathe’dbeleavingIaxonthenextconjunctionwith theNavyyardsatMacragge.She’dstopped thepictographer,and thoughhe’dwantedtogetoneofthemtogether,she’dinsistedontheindividualportrait.

Lookingatitnow,heunderstoodherreason.She’dsincemarried;agoodmanfromanoldfamilythatcouldtraceitslineageallthewaybackto

theestablishmentofFirstLandingandwassaidtocountanumberofitsscionswithintheranksoftheUltramarines.Roboutehopedthatwas true,andthatshewashappy.Hehopedshehadstrongsonsandprettydaughters,andthatshehadn’tspenttoolongmourninghisdeath.

NewsofthePreceptor’sdestructionwouldcertainlyhavereachedIax;muchofherinternalfittingsanddecorativepanellingshadbeenfashionedfromgoodIaxiantimber.TheNavalfleetregistrylistedher asdestroyedby anunknownArch-Enemyvessel, lostwith all hands.But that only toldhalf thestory.

Robouteshookoffmemoriesof subsistingonmetallic icewaterdripping into the last remainingoxygenatedcompartmentontheshatteredbridgeandbeingforcedto lickthefrozenfungusoff theexposedunder-deckstructures,since thatwas theonlysourceofsustenance left tohim.Thatwasatimehe’dratherforget,andtheastrogationcompasswastheonlykeepsakeofhistimeonthePreceptorheallowedhimself.Anymorewouldbetoopainfultobear.

Hetappedhisauthoritysignifiersontothedesk’ssurfaceandahololithicpanelofsmokedglasshingedupfromtherichredwood.Coursevectors,fuel-consumptionandcurvingattitudeparabolasscrolledpastastheRenard’sdataenginesfedhiminformationfromitsownsurveyorpackagesaswellasthoseinloadedfromtheSperanza’sauspexarrays.Hescannedthefloodofinformation,lettingtheenhancementsworkedintothecomputationalcentresofhisbrainprocessthedatawithouttheneedofhisfrontalbrainspace.HisnaturalUltramarianaptitudeshadensuredarapidascentthroughtheNavalcommandranksandsawhimimplantedwithanumberofcerebralaugmentations,allofwhichhadproventheirworthmanytimes–bothinspaceandashore.

‘Whoeverplottedthiscourseknowstheirstars,’hesaidasheextrapolatedthewaypointsthroughthenextfewsectorswherethey’ddropoutofthewarptore-establishtheirpositionbeforemovingontheHaloScaratthegalacticedge.Roboute’sfingersdancedovertheprojectedcourse,zoominginonportions, skipping past others and examining areas of particularly subtle hexamathic calculation.Muchof itwasbeyondhis limitedunderstandingofsucharcanemulti-dimensionalcalculus,butheknewenoughtoknowitwasexquisitework.

Roboute opened a seamless drawer in the deskwith a complex haptic gesture and awhisperedcommand in a language his human throat could barely flex enough to voice. Inside was the gold-chasedmemorywafer from the saviour pod’s locator beacon.He’d studied the data encoded in thelatticed structure of thewafer on a discrete terminal, thoughmuch of itmade little sensewithoutdatumreferencesof thecelestialgeographybeyond theHaloScar.Hopefullyonce theywereon theothersideoftheScar,they’dbeabletofindthosereferencepoints.

Even though the terminal he’dused to study thedatawasn’t connected to the ship’smain logicengines,he’dpurgeditbeforetheirarrivalinorbitaroundJoura,knowingfullwellthatKotovwouldtryandliftitfromtheRenard’smemorystacksassoonashelearnedwhatRoboutehaddone.

Sureenough,MagosPavelkalaterfoundevidenceofasubtle,butthoroughinfiltrationoftheship’scogitators,adeeppenetrationthathadinterrogatedeverysysteminsearchofthemissingdata.ThathadgivenRobouteagrin.Asifhewouldbesolaxinhisdatadiscipline!

Apleasingchimesoundedfromthedesk, likeaknifegentlytappedonawineglass,andRoboutecleared the course informationwitha swipedhand.Apulsingvox-iconbearingaCadiancommandauthoritystubappearedatthecornerofthesmokyglass,andRoboutegrinned,havingexpectedacallfromthecolonel’sstaffatsomepoint.

Hetappedthescreenandtheimageofanearnestmanappeared,youthfullyhandsome,butwithawolf-likeleannesstohimthatremindedRoboutethateventhestaffofficersofaCadianregimentwerehighly trained and combat-experienced soldiers. He recognised the man from the meeting in theAdamantCiborium,oneofColonelAnders’sadjutants,butcouldn’trecall ifhe’dbeentoldhisname.The clarity of the imagewas second to none, thanks, Roboute suspected, to the high-end vox-gearaboardtheSperanza.

‘CaptainSurcouf?’askedtheman,thoughnooneelsecouldhaveansweredthisparticularvox.‘Speaking.Whoareyou?’‘LieutenantFelspar,adjutanttoColonelAnders,’answeredtheman,notintheleasttakenabackby

Roboute’sdeliberatelybrusquereply.‘WhatcanIdoforyou,LieutenantFelspar?’‘IamtoinformyouthatColonelAndersishostinganeveningdinnerintheofficer’squarterson

the Gamma deck’s starboard esplanade at seven bells on the first diurnal shift rotation aftertranslation.Heextendsaninvitationtoyouandyourseniorcrewtojoinhim.’

‘Adinner?’‘Yes,sir,adinner.ShallIconveyyouracceptanceofthecolonel’sinvitation?’Roboutenodded.‘Yes,alongwithmythanks.’‘Dressisformal.Thecolonelhopesthatwon’tbeaproblem.’Roboutelaughedandshookhishead.‘No,thatwon’tbeaproblem,LieutenantFelspar.Wehavea

fewclothesoverherethataren’tentirelythreadbareortoooutrageousforaregimentaldinner.’‘Thenthecolonelwillbepleasedtoreceiveyou,captain.’‘Tellhimwe’relookingforwardtoit,’saidRoboute,shuttingoffthevox-link.He placed the astrogation compass in the corner of his desk and stood with a pleased grin.

Straighteninghisjacket,hereturnedtothethebridgeoftheRenardandtookhisplaceinthecaptain’s

chair.EmilNaderhadthehelm,thoughtherewaslittleforhimtodogiventhattheywereslavedtothecourseoftheSperanza.

‘WhatdidtheCadianswant?’askedEmil.‘WhosaiditwastheCadians?’‘Itwasthough,wasn’tit?TenultimassaysitwastheCadians.’‘Itwas,butthatwasn’ttoohardtoguess.Themessagecamewitharequestprefix.Anyvox-traffic

from theMechanicus doesn’t bother with such niceties. Even Adara could have guessed it was theCadians.’

‘Sowhatdidtheywant?’‘Us,’ saidRoboute, lookingoutat theshimmeringstarfieldvisible throughthemainviewingbay

withathrillofseeingnewhorizons.ThestarswerethinnerandfeltdimmertheclosertheydrewtotheMandevillepoint,asthoughtheywerereachingtheedgesofknownspace.Itwasanopticalillusion,ofcourse,afictioncraftedbythemindwhenapproachingtheedgeofastarsystem.

‘Us?Whatdoyoumean?’‘Imeantheywantustocometodinner,’saidRoboute,callingupthesharedfleetchronometerto

thedisplay.‘SoI’mafraidwe’llneedtodigoutthosedressuniformsagain.You,meandEmilaregoingovertotheSperanzaineighteenhours.’

‘Dinner?’‘Yeah,’saidRoboute.‘Youhaveheardofit?Anassemblyofindividualswhogathertoconsumefood

anddrinkwhilesharingconvivialconversationandageneralatmosphereofbonhomie.’‘Doesn’tsoundlikeanydinnerwe’veeverhad,’saidEmil.‘Probablynot,butwecanatleasttrynottodisgraceourselves,eh?’

‘Sowhatdoyouthink?’askedHawke.‘Thor’sballs,Ithinkyou’vejustkilledme!’gaspedCoyne,spittingamouthfulofclearliquidtothe

deck.Hedroppedtohiskneesandretchedwetly,thoughheheldontothemuckhe’djusteateninthefeedinghall.

Abrehem swallowed the acrid liquid with difficulty, tasting all manner of foul chemicals anddistilled impurities in its oily texture. It fought to comebackup again, but he kept it downwith amixtureofdeterminationandsheerbloodywillpower.WhentheinitialflareofHawke’svilebrewhadsubsided,therewas,hehadtoadmit,apotentaftertastethatwasn’tentirelyunpleasant.

‘Well?’saidHawke.‘I’vecertainlydrunkworsestuffthanthisindocksidebars,’hesaidatlast.‘That’snotsayingmuch,’saidHawkewithahurtpout.‘It’saboutthebestrecommendationIcangiveyou,’saidAbrehem.‘Givemeanother.’Hawkesmiledandbenttothecollectionofhydro-drums,fuelcanisters,coppertubingandplastic

pipingthatsiphonedoffliquidsfromEmperor-only-knew-whereandfilteredthemthroughatangledcirculatory system of tubes, distillation flasks, filtering apparatus and burn chambers. None of itsconstituentparts lookedasthoughitwasfulfillingthepurposeforwhich ithadbeendesigned,and

Abrehem read entoptic substrate codes that suggested at least twodozenmachines elsewherewerenowmissingvitalparts.

‘Howthehellwereyouabletobuildthis?’askedCoyne,risingtohisfeetandholdingouthistincupforarefill.

‘Guard knowhow,’ saidHawke, handing Abrehem a cup and taking Coyne’s. ‘It’s a bloody poorsoldierwhocan’tfigureoutawaytomakeboozeaboardaNavyshiponitswaytoawarzone.’

‘Thisisn’taNavyship,’pointedoutAbrehem.‘It’sMechanicus.’‘Onlymakesiteasier,’saidHawke.‘There’ssomuchstufflyingaroundthatyoucan’thelpbutfind

afewbitsandpiecesnoone’susinganymore.’Abrehemsippedhisdrink,wincingatitsstrength.‘Butsomeofthesepiecesareprettyspecialised,

howdidyougetholdofthem?’Hawke gave him a wink that might have been meant to reassure him, but which came off as

lecherousandconniving.‘Listen,doyouwantadrinkornot?’saidHawke.‘There’salwayswaysandmeansyoucangethold

ofstuffwhenyou’reonastarship.Especiallyonewherethere’smenandwomenwithneeds.Especiallyonewhereamanwithaneyetosatisfyingthoseneedscan...facilitatethemtofruition.Let’sjustleaveitatthat,okay?’

Abrehemwanted to askmore, but something toldhim thathewouldn’t like any of the answersHawkemightgivehim.Notforthefirsttime,hewonderedaboutthewisdomofallyinghimselfwithamanlikeHawke,amanwhosemoralsappearedtobesituationallymalleabletosaytheleast.

They’dfollowedHawkefromthefeedinghallintothedrippingcorridorsthatranparalleltotheirdormitory accommodation. Steamdrifted in lazy banks fromheavy iron pipes that shed paint andbrackish water in equal measure. Crusha led the way, ducking every now and then as a knot ofpipework twisted down into the space, and Abrehem and Coyne were soon hopelessly lost in thelabyrinthofneedlesslycomplexcorridors,sidepassagesandweirdlyangledcompanionways.

ThechamberHawkehadfinallyledthemtowaswideandfeltlikeacrossbetweenatempleandaprisonchamber.Theceilingwasarched,andskullsandboneswereworkedintothewallslikecadaversemergingfromtombssunkinsomeforgottensepulchre.FadedfrescoesofImperialsaintsoccupiedthecoffersontheceiling,andahexagonal-tiledpathwaytracedaroutetoablocked-offwallinscribedwith stencilled lettering rendered illegible by the relentlessly drippingwater and oil.Whatever hadoncebeenwrittentherewasnowlosttoposterity,thoughAbrehemreasoneditcouldn’thavebeenthatimportant,judgingbytheneglectandabandonmentofthisplace.

Hawke’sstillwassetupagainsttheblocked-offwall,andAbrehemsawsmearedshimmersofcodelines snaking across it. None were strong enough to read on their own, and he blinked away theafterimages,wonderingwhytherewouldbeanypowerroutedthroughthissectionatall.

‘Howdidyouevenfindthisplace?’askedAbrehem.‘Andwhatisit?’addedCoyne.‘It’slikeacrypt.’Hawkelookedmomentarilyflustered,butsoonshookitoff.‘Ineededsomewhereoutofthewaytogetthestillputtogether,’hesaid,withalightnessoftone

thatsoundedentirelyfalse.‘Tookawalkonenightandfoundmyselfjusttakingturnsatrandom,not

reallyknowingwhereIwasgoing.Foundthisplace,andfigureditwasperfect.’‘I’mamazedyoucanfindyourwayback,’saidAbrehem.‘It’sabloodymazedownhere.’‘Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?’ saidHawke. ‘I startedout trying to rememberhow I’dgothere; left

turn,rightturn,straightaheadforahundredmetres,thatsortofthing,butitneverseemedtomatter.Ialwaysgothere,andI’dneverquiterememberhowIdidit.Sameonthewayout.’

‘Soundslikeyou’vebeensamplingtoomuchofyourownproduct,’saidCoyne.‘No,’saidHawke.‘It’slikethisplacewantedmetofindit,likeIwasalwaysgoingtofindit.’‘Whatareyoutalkingabout?’Hawkeshrugged,unwillingtobedrawnfurtherandrealisinghe’dsaidtoomuch.‘Hell,whatdoes

itmatteranyway?Abrehemmadea slowcircuitof thechamberasHawkespoke.Hereachedout to touch thewall

with the faded stencilling, feeling an almost imperceptible vibration in themetal, as though someunseenmachinerypulsedwithaglacialheartbeatontheotherside.Codefragmentssquirmedoverthemetal towards his hand, sub-ferrous worms of light drawn to the flow of blood around his flesh.Abrehemfeltaweightofgreatangerandterriblesorrowbeyondthemetalandsteppedback,flusteredbytherawsurgeofvolatileenergiescontainedwithinthismysteriouschamber.

‘Idon’tlikethisplace,’hesaidatlast.‘Weshouldn’tbehere.’‘Whynot?’saidHawke.‘It’sagoodplace,quiet,outofthewayandit’sstillgotalittlejuiceflowing

throughit.’‘Youeverstoptowonderwhy?’‘No,whatdoIcare?It’saMechanicusship,there’spowerflowingallthroughittoplacesthetech-

priestshavelikelyforgottenabout.Thisshine’sgoingtomakealotofpeopleveryhappy,eh?’‘Foraprice,’saidAbrehem.‘Aman’sgotarighttoearnsomethingfromhislabours,ain’the?’‘We’re little better than slaves,’ pointedoutAbrehem. ‘What could any of ushave thatwouldbe

worthanythingtoyou?’‘Folks have always got something to trade,’ said Hawke. ‘Favours, trinkets, their strength, their

skills,their...companionship.You’dbesurprisedwhatpeoplearewillingtoofferamaninreturnforalittlebitofanescapefromtheirdailygrind.’

‘No,’saidAbrehemsadly.‘Iwouldn’t.’

ThefleetbeganitsfinalapproachtotheMandevillepointwithtwooftheescortsfromVossPrimeandthe Adytum in the vanguard. Cardinal Boras followed close behind, with Wrathchild and Moonchildprowling the flanks of theSperanza.TheRenardwas now berthed in one of its cavernous holds, fortherewasnoreasontomaintainaflightprofilewhenitcouldbecarriedaboardabiggershipinstead.ArchmagosKotovwastakingnochanceson losingtheRenardbeforeCaptainSurcoufcouldprovidehimwithnavigationalcomputationsforspacebeyondtheHaloScar.

HighabovetheenginewakeoftheArkMechanicus,MortisVosskeptwatchontheirrear,forthiswaswhenthefleetwasatitsmostvulnerable.Asthefiresoftheplasmaenginescooledandthefleet

bledoffspeed,italsolosttheabilitytofightandmanoeuvreeffectively.Corsairfleetsoftenlurkedindebrisclusters,hollowedoutasteroidsorelectromagneticallyactivedustcloudsbeforepouncingonprey vessels. The power of the Kotov Fleet was likely proof against any such ambush, but piraticalattackswerenottheonlydangertoshipspreparingtocollapsethewallsbetweenrealities.

Situatedfarfromthesuckinggravitywellofthesun,theMandevillepointrepresentedtheregionof space that centuries of experience and hard-won knowledge had identified as the best place tobreach the membrane separating realspace and warp space. A ship could translate into the warpelsewhere, of course, but suchwere the risks involved that anymeans of reducing the dangerwasworththeextratransittimetothemoredistantMandevillepoint.

TheSperanzawouldmakethefirstbreach,herwarpgeneratorsspoolingupwithenoughforcetoripagateway into thewarp for the restof the fleet touse. Itwasdifficultenough tomaintain fleetcohesionafterawarptranslationatthebestoftimes,harderstillifeachshiphadtotearitsownpaththrough. Better that one ship shouldered the hard work for the rest, and the Speranza was easilycapableofsuchanexpenditureofpower.

CocoonedNavigatorsandmentally-conjoinedastropathswouldmaintainlinksbetweenthefleet,butnothingabouttravelthroughthewarpwascertain,andastrogationdata,togetherwithemergencyrallypoints,waspassedbetweeneachshipmaster.

BladeofVossandHonourBlade circledbackaround, their engines flaringbrightly as theirmater-captainsperformedhard-burnturns tobring theminclose to thevastshipat theheartof the fleet.EachshipinthefleetundertookcomplexmanoeuvrestobringthemintighttotheSperanza,clusteringatrangesthatinterrestrialtermswereenormous,butinspatialtopographyweredangerouslyclose.Everyshipshutdownallbutthemostvitalauspexsystems,foritwasbetternottoknowtoomuchofthesubstanceofthewarpbeyondtheshimmeringbubbleoftheGellerfield.

Satisfied itscohortswere isolated in theirownsilentshrouds, theSperanza unleashed salvoesofscreamingcodebursts,warninganynearbyshipstokeeptheirdistance.ThoughtheArkMechanicuswasashipofexploration,shewasnotwithoutteeth,andhadmorethanenoughpowerreservesinhervastcapacitorstodefendherselfintheeventofanysurpriseattack.Echoinghowlsofhostilemachinelanguagewarnedofdireconsequencesforanyshipthatdaredapproach.

With the echoes of its binaric challenge still echoing through space, the spatial environmentsmearedwithghostlyblotchesofunlight,shimmersofanunseenworldbroughtdangerouslyclosetothesurface.Likeastagnantpool,whereindwelledunseenandunknowableabominationsandwhosehiddendepthshaveforgoodreasonremainedinvisible,theedgesofthewarpwerehorriblyrevealed.Immaterialtendrilsofsicklightbledintorealspace,aglisteningdiscolouredtumourbulgingintothematerialuniversewherethemalevolentreflectionsof thingsdreadedandthingsdesiredweremadereal.Likeanoceanmaelstromgivensentience,awhorlofbruisedcoloursanddamaged lightoozedfromapointinspaceaheadofthefleet,graduallywideningasancientmachineryandarcanetechno-sorceryconceivedinanearlieragetorethegougeinspaceeverwider.

A suppuratingwound in thematerial universe, the space around it buckled in torment, loosingtortured screams unheard by any save weeping astropaths and Cadian primaris psykers locked inpsychicFaradaycages.Eventhosewithoutthecurseofpsychicabilityfeltthetearopeningwider,its

abhorrentpresenceoccupyingmultiplestatesofexistencethatviolatedthefirstprinciplesofthemenwhosoughttocodifytherealworldintheearliestmillenniaofthehumancivilisation.

Noconventionalauspexcouldmeasuresounnaturalaphenomenon.Itsboundariesexistedonnolevelofbeingthatcouldbemeasuredinempiricalterms.Itsveryappearancemadeamockeryofanynotions of reality, and only instrumentation conceived in fits of delirium by men whom sciencedeemedmadinagespastcouldevenacknowledgeitspresence.

TheSperanza’s plasmaengines flaredwitha last, eye-wateringburstofpoweras itmade for thedarkheartofthewarpfissure.Nebuloussliversofnullplasmicanti-lightengulfedthemightyvessel,swallowingitwholeandfoldingarounditlikesomenightmarepredatorthathadlureditspreyintoitsjawswithgaudydisplaysofcolour.

OnebyonetheshipsoftheKotovFleettranslatedintothewarp.

Thoughmost translationeventswere timed tooccurwhen the fewestnumberof crewmenwereontheirnightsiderotationandbellswererungthroughouttheshiptokeepmenfromtheirnightmares,itwasinevitablethatsomewouldpassbetweenworldswhileasleep.FewCadiansslept,knowingbetterthanmosttherisksofsuchalapseafternumeroustranslationsbetweenthevoidandthewarp.

Prayers were said, offerings and promisesmade to the God-Emperor to keep them safe, luckytalismanskissedandwhateverritualsamanbelievedmightkeephimsafewereenactedthroughoutthefleet.Confessorsandwarriorprieststouredthedormitoryspacesofeveryship,hearingthefearsofthosewhocouldkeeptheirterroratbaynolonger.

Forthedurationofawarpjourney,everylivingsoulwasaferventbelieverandpiousservantoftheGolden Throne, but if the Ecclesiarchy priests cared that this upswell in absolute devotion wastemporary,theydidnotsay.

Likewise,fewoftheAdeptusMechanicusslept,theirbiologicalcomponents’requirementforrestoverruled by their artificial implants in anticipation of the translation. Aboard the Adytum, thewarriors of the Adeptus Astartes knelt in silent contemplation of their duty, watched over by theimplacableformofKulGilad.Heknewthesignsofwarpintrusion,andkeptvigilonhiswarriorsforany hint that the insidious tendrils of the warp had taken root. He expected no trace of suchcorruption,butonlybyeternalvigilancecouldsuchexpectationsbemaintained.

Cortex-fusedarmsmenprowledthedecksofeveryship,alertforanysignofdanger,shot-cannonsandshockmaulsattheready.Translationwasalwaysatimefraughtwithdisturbances;fightswhosecausenoonecouldquiteremember,ravingsleepwalkers,suicideattempts,randomactsofsenselessviolence,deliriousboutsofuninhibitedsexandthelike.

Throughout the fleet, men and women experienced nightmares, sweating palpitations, gloomypremonitionsoftheirowndeathorprolongedboutsofmelancholia.Noonerelishedtheprospectoftranslation,buttherewaslittletodobutendureitandpraytotheGod-Emperorthatthejourneybeoverswiftly.

Norwerethedestabilisingeffectsofwarptranslationconfinedsolelytothemortalelementsofthefleet; its mechanical components suffered similar trauma. On every ship, from the most complex

machinesthatwerebeyondmortalunderstandingtothesimplestcircuits,thetechnologyoftheKotovFleet felt the fear of new and impossible physical laws that interfered with their smooth running.Glitches bloomed and a hundred faults developed every minute, keeping the tech-priests,lexmechanicsandservitorsworkingshiftaftershifttoensurenothingvitalfailedattheworstpossiblemoment.

Of all the components in the fleet, only one slept through the translation, and they sufferednightmaresthelikeofwhichnoordinarysoulcouldcomprehend.DeepintheheartsoftherecumbentTitans,thefleshymindsthatallowedthewolfheartsoftheLegioSiriustofightwrithedinthegripofamniotic nightmares. To spare their princeps theworst effects of translation, the tech-priest crewshadshutthemofffromtheoutsideworld,sealingeachsingularindividualintheirmilkyprisonswithonlymemoriesofpastlivestosustainthem.

Past glories and victories stretching back thousands of yearswere usually enough to keep eachprinceps fromsufferingtheworsteffectsof translation,butnot this time.AlphaPrincepsArloLuthdreamedofscuttlingcreatureswithbladedlimbsinfestinghistitanicframe,ofworm-likeburrowerscoringhimhollowfromtheinsideoutandenormousbio-titanscrushinghismetalbodybeneaththeirimpossiblebiology.

Hethrashedhisvestigial limbsinmutehorror,unabletoscreamorbegthetech-prieststowakehim.Luth’severylinktotheoutsideworldwasclosedofftohim,butLupaCapitalinafelthispainandsharedit,itssystemsflaringinempathicfury.

Its weapon systems and threat signifiers briefly overcame the Mechanicus wards keeping itquiescent,andit loosedashudderingblastof itswarhornasauto-loadersandpowercoilssurgedtolife.Hundredsofpanicking tech-priestsandLegioacolytes responded to thebattle-engine’s suddenascenttoitswar-footing,butbeforetheycoulddomorethanregisterthedanger,theTitan’smachine-spiritsankbacktodormancy.

NotraceofwhathadcausedtheCapitalina’saggressivesurgecouldbefound,andtheseniormagioftheLegioputtheepisodedowntoaquirkoftranslationbleedintothemachineryoftheSperanza’sinertia-cradles.

Buttheywereallwrong.

WiththedepartureoftheArkMechanicus,theinfectedwoundofthetranslationpointsnappedshutas the tortured skein of what mortals blissfully accepted as reality reasserted its dominance. Theaftershocksofsobrutalamanipulationofthelawsgoverningthephysicalpropertiesoftheuniversewouldechothroughoutthepastandthefuture,forsuchconceptsaslineartimesimplydidnotexistinthewarp.

Bielanna felt the violence of the human fleet’s shift into the warp and eased her hold on thewraithboneheartoftheStarblade.Theshiprodeoutthelastofthewarpspasms,itscaptainclimbing,divingandyawingintimewiththeamplitudeofthetemporalandcausalwavefrontsunleashedbythebrutalviolationofrealspace.

Sheopenedherselftotheinfinitycircuit,allowinghermindtoflowthroughthelivingstructureof

theStarblade.GlitteringpointsoflightsparkledlikestarlightintheDomeofDreamsForgotten,warpspidersatworkrepairingcracksinthewraithbonewherestressesonthehullhadcrackedthecarefullygrownsparsthatgavetheshipitsdeceptivestrength.Sheavoidedthewarpspiders, leavingthemtotheirunthinkinglaboursassheeasedthroughtheribsofthegiantvesselandfeltthehotneutronwindroaring past the hull and filling the solar sailswith energy. Vast reservoirs of power burned in theheart of theStarblade, resources harvested from the aether and the almost limitless reserves of thestars.

Bielannafeltthefireflysoul-lightsofthecrew,eachoneaweavingthreadupontheskein,eachoneavistaofpotentialstretchingoutfromthenowandintothemyriadpissiblenows.Someshefeltcloseto, others she knew only fromwhat the infinity circuit told her of them. Every eldar on board theStarbladewastouchedbytheinfinitycircuit,andeachlefttheirmarkuponit.

Yes,therewerepoetsandartistsamongstthecrew,butthiswasashipofwarriors.Two aspect shrines occupied the ventral and dorsal domes of the ship, Striking Scorpions and

HowlingBanshees,withashrineofDireAvengershousedtowardstheprow.ThreeofthemostwarlikeaspectsofKhaine; theshadowhunters, thewailingdeathandthebladethatsevers.Bielanna letherspiritslidepasttheaspectshrineswithoutpause,forshedidnotwishtoattractundueattentionfromthose who wore their war-mask so close to the surface when the power of the warp was in theascendancy.

TheheartoftheStarbladehousedtheshrineofthewar-goditself,butitsfurnaceheartwascold–the embers of its bellicose heart slumbering until the call to arms fanned them to raging life oncemore. Even without the imminence of battle, the raging echoes of the human fleet’s bludgeoningassaultonbarriersmeanttokeepthemfromthewarpweremakingitrestless.

Guardianstrainedinthewing-mounteddomes,citizensoldiersofBiel-Tanwhoselivesmayhavecarriedthemfromthepathof thewarrior,butwhowereduty-boundtoheed itscallwhentheneedarose. Everwas the heart of Biel-Tan ready forwar. The entire essence of the shipwas primed forbattle.

Shefeltitinthetautnessofthewraithbone,theurgencyofthewarpspidersandthehowlingwar-masksoftheAspectWarriors.

Thepresenceofthecaptainmergedwithherownandshefelthisquestionbeforeitwasasked.‘No,Ihavenotfoundityet,’shesaid.‘Butitisnear.AllowmetoguidetheStarbladeandIwillseeus

through.’The captainwordlessly acquiesced andBielanna felt the enormousweight of the starship settle

uponher,itslance-shapedprows,itsvastwingspan,itsmanyweapons,itsventralfinsandtoweringsolarsail.Thesenseofcommandingsomethingsopowerfulwasintoxicating,andshefoughttoholdontohersenseofidentityasthevast,swarmingspiritoftheshiprushedtodrawherintoitsglowingheart.

Bielannahurledher spirit from thepleasurableheatof theStarblade’swraithbone limbs andoutintospace,feelingthestormwindsofanalternatedimensionbuffetherandtrytopryherloosefromhercourse.Whatshesoughtwasclose,shecouldfeelitsnearness,butitwascoyandloathtorevealitself,eventotheheirsofthosewhohadwroughtitinalostageofgreatness.

Removingherselffromliteralthoughtofphysicallocations,Bielannafreedhermindtotheskein,lettingthedriftsofthefuturewashoverher.Themultiplestrandsofthefuturedivergedbeforeher,adensely-knottedropeweavingitselftogetherfromabilliontimesabillionslenderthreads.Sheflowedintothethreads,followingtheblood-redstrandthatledtounsheathedblades,splitveinsandclovenflesh.

Thefutureopeneduptoherandshesawnowwhatshesought.And as that future moved from potential to reality, the webway portal finally revealed itself, a

shimmeringstarfieldintheoutlineofMorai-HeginheraspectoftheMaiden–atoncebeautifulandseductive,yetalsodangerouslybeguiling.Morethanonemyth-cycletoldoffoolisheldarluredtotheirdoombytrustingherwondrouscountenance.TheStarblade’sprowturnedtothesun-wroughtformofthegoddessoffate,andgoldenlightflaredfromtheedgesoftheportalinwelcomerecognition.

The stars beyond faded to obscurity as the amber depths of the webway were revealed, andBielanna returned control of the starship to its captain. She felt a momentary pang of loss as itsimmenseheartuntangledfromherown.Bielannafoughtagainstthedesiretomeshherspiritwiththeshiponceagainasitsslippedeffortlesslyintothewebway,travellingthevastgulfsofspacewithouttheterribledangersfacedbythehumanfleet.

Bielannaopenedhereyes,lettingtheweightofherphysicalbodyreassertitselfasshemovedfromtherealmofthespirittotherealmoftheflesh.

She sat in the centre of her emptyquarters, cross-leggedbetween two emptybeds intended fornewborneldarchildren.

Theywereemptyandhadalwaysbeenempty.Andunless shewasable tounseat thehuman fleet from itsblunderingpath into theunknown,

theyalwayswouldbe.

Microcontent09

Despitehisbesteffortstoachieveexactingpunctuality, itwasthirtysecondsaftersevenbellsbeforeRobouteandhiscrewarrivedattheentrancetotheCadianofficers’billetsonGammadeck.ThepartofhimthatwasUltramarthroughandthroughhatedbeinglessthanpunctilious,butthepartofhimthathadseenhimtakeupthelifeofaroguetraderrelishedsuchrebelliousness.

Thoughevenhehadtoadmitthatbeinghalfaminutelatewasn’tmuchofarebellion.He’dcomewithEmil,AdaraandEnginseerSylkwood,who’djumpedatthechancetospendtime

withsomesoldiersoftheGuard.Roboutewasn’tsurprisedshe’djoinedhim;Karynwasnostrangertothe sharpendofmassbattle, and she’d foughtonCadiabefore.Thedesire to speak toprofessionalsoldierswasahardhabittobreak,itseemed.MagosPavelkahadnotaccompaniedthem,professingno desire to engage in meaningless social ritual when there were dozens of emergent faultsmanifestinginthedataenginesafterthetraumaoftranslation.

Theentrancefromthestarboardesplanadewasasurprisinglyornatedoorwayofblack-enamelledwoodchasedwithgoldwiringandembellishedwithrepeatedmotifsof theIconMechaniusworkedintothestoneworkportico.Abrushedsteelplaqueateye-levellistedthepersonnelresidingherewithmachine-cutprecision.RoboutesuspectedtheCadianswouldhavepreferredsomething lessornate,butsupposedthatGuardunitstookwhattheyweregivenwhentheyboardedastarship.Thiswasjustalittlemoreelaboratethanhefiguredthey’dbeusedto.

Lieutenant Felspar met them at the doorway with an escort of spit-shined and barrel-chestedstormtroopersinbulkybodyarmourandheavycharge-packs.Thoughclearlyintendedasanhonourguard for theguests, itwasplain to see that thesewere seriousmenwhoweremore than ready towreakharmonanypotentialthreat.

‘CaptainSurcouf,goodevening.Thecolonelwillbegladyouwereabletoattend,’saidFelspar.‘Yes,sorry,tookuslongertogetherethanweexpected,’hesaid.‘Turnsoutthosemag-levsaren’tas

fastastheylook.’Felspargavehimalookthatsuggestedhewasn’tinthemoodforhumourandconsultedthedata-

slateheproducedfrombehindhisback.‘Andtheseindividualswouldbeyourcrew?’

‘Yes,’ agreedRoboute, introducingEmil,AdaraandSylkwood.Felsparconfirmed their identitieswitha sweepofadatawand that compared theirbiometricswith those thathadbeenrecorded themomentthey’dfirststeppedaboardtheSperanza.

‘You’llneedtosurrenderyourweapons,ofcourse,’saidFelspar.‘We’renotarmed,’saidRoboute.‘Ibegtodiffer.’Irritation touchedRoboute at the adjutant’s smug tone, andhewas about to remonstratewhen

Felsparheldupthewand.Aredlineflashedalongitslength,indicatingthepresenceofaweapon.‘Sorry,’saidAdara,removinghisbutterflybladefromhisshirtpocket.‘Forceofhabit.’‘Didn’tIsaynottobringanyweapons?’‘I hardly even think of it as aweaponnow,’ said Adarawith a bemused shrug. ‘It’s not like I’m

planningtostabanyonewithit.’‘I’msurethatmakesLieutenantFelsparveryhappy,’saidRoboute.‘Nowhanditover.’‘I’llgetitbackwon’tI?’askedAdara,foldingthebladeandplacingitinFelspar’soutstretchedhand.

‘Mydagavemethatknife,saiditsavedhislifebackwhen–’‘Thelieutenantdoesn’tneedtohearyourlifestory,’saidSylkwood,pushingAdaraoutoftheway.

‘Say, youwant towave yourwand atme, soldier? I think Imight have a concealedweapon or twosecretedsomewhereaboutmyperson.Iforget,butit’sprobablybestyoumakesure.’

Felsparshookhishead.‘Thatwon’tbenecessary,ma’am,’hesaid,flushingadeepred.SylkwoodgaveafilthylaughandmovedpastFelspar,pausingtogiveeachofthestormtroopersan

appreciativeinspection.EmilfollowedherandAdarahurriedtocatchup.‘Isshealwayssoforward?’askedFelspar.‘Trustme,thatwasherbeingreserved,’saidRoboute.‘Oh,andbytheway,theRenardisindocking

berthJovus-TertiaryNineZero,takesfifteenminutesexactlytogethere.’‘I’mnotsureIfollow,’saidFelspar.‘Soyouknowwhereyouarewhenyouwakeupinthemorning,’saidRoboute,givingthelieutenant

acomradelyslapontheshoulder.‘Youknow,justincase.’BeforeFelsparcouldanswer,Roboutemovedoffintotheofficers’quarters,followingthesoundof

conversation,clinkingglassesandastirringmartialtunethatsoundedlikeacoloursbandatagrandtriumphalmarch.

The anteroom beyond the entrance resembled a wide banqueting chamber that wouldn’t haveseemedoutofplace inahivenoble’spalace.Clearly theAdeptusMechanicushaddiffering ideasofwhatconstitutedsoldiers’accommodationtotheDepartmentoMunitorum.

Ashaven-headedservitorinacreamcolouredrobeapproachedhim,itsphysiquelessaugmentedthanwas thenormforsuchcybernetics. Itsskinwaspowderedwhite,and itshairhadbeenslickedbackwithapungentoil. Itcarriedabeatenmetal trayuponwhichwereanumberof thin-stemmedglassesfilledwithagoldenliquidthatsparkledwithtinybubbles.

‘Dammassine?’inquiredtheservitor.‘Don’tmindifIdo,’saidRoboute,takingaglass.Hetookasmallsipandwasrewardedwithasweetherbaltasteoverahintofalmond.

Emil and theothershadalreadyavailed themselvesof the servitor’shospitality and stoodat theedgeoftheroom,takinginameasureoftheirhostsandtheirguests.PerhapsthirtyCadianofficers,dressedinfreshuniformjacketsandboots,mingledwiththebluffgoodhumourofmenwhotrustedoneanotherimplicitly.AnumberofAdeptusMechanicusmagiwerescatteredthroughtheassemblyoffightingmen,lookingacutelyuncomfortableatbeingthrustintoasituationtheywereill-equippedtohandle.

‘NosignofKotov,’hemurmured.‘Didyoureallyexpecttoseehim?’askedEmil.‘Notreally,’saidRoboute,scanningthefacesbeforehimforonesheknew.HisgazefelluponColonelVenAnderschattingamiablywithLinyaTychonandherfather.MagosBlaylockstoodtooneside,andanofficerwiththeshoulderboardsofasupplycorpsofficer

wasexplainingsomethingtohimthatinvolvedextravaganthandgestures.Agaggleofjuniorofficerswere clustered around the enormous figure of Kul Gilad, who in deference to the occasion haddivested himself of his armour and wore a plain black and white surplice over his matt-blackbodyglove.Evenwithout themassofplate andarmaplas, themanwas enormous andbuilt like thechrono-gladiatorRoboutehadonceseeninthefightingpitsoftheBakkansumps.

‘Howcomehe gets to keephisweapon?’ saidAdara,nodding towards the chunky, eagle-wingedmaulslungovertheReclusiarch’sshoulder.

‘Wouldyoutryandtakeitfromhim?’askedEmil.‘Iguessnot,’saidAdara,snagginganotherdrinkfromapassingservitor.Kul Gilad had not come alone; a bearded warrior with a severe widow’s peak and a line of

hammered service studs in his forehead stood to his right.WhereKulGilad could at least partiallyconcealhisdiscomfortatbeingincludedinasocialenvironment,hiscompanionworenosuchmask.

‘Who’shisdourfriend?’wonderedEmil.‘Asergeant,’saidRoboute.‘Thewhitewreathontheshouldertellsyouthat.’‘Itdoes?’‘Yes,’saidRoboute.‘TheBlackTemplarsmightbedescendantsofRogalDorn,butitlooksliketheir

rankmarkingsandthelikestilloweagreatdealtotheUltramarines.’Thesergeantlookedupsharply,thoughRoboutewouldhavebeensurprisedifthemanhadheard

what he’d just said. Then again,who really knew exactly how supra-engineered the SpaceMarines’gene-structurereallywas?

VenAndersglancedawayfromhisconversationandcaughtRoboute’seye,beckoningthemoverwithafriendlywave.Roboutemadehiswaythroughthepressofofficersuntilhereachedthecolonel.He shook the man’s hand, the skin callused and rough from decades spent in trenches and oncountlessbattlefields.Abrass-scaledautomaton–fashionedfromclockworkintheshapeofasmall,tree-climbing lizard – clung to his shoulder, its irising eye regarding him with dumb machineimplacability.

Roboute introduced his crew, and the colonel shook each one by the hand with convincingsincerity.Thelizardscuttledaroundtohisothershoulder,itsbrasslimbsclickinglikeaclocktickingtoofast.

‘Apleasuretomeetyouall,’saidAnders.‘I’mverygladyoucouldattend.’‘Wouldn’thavemissedit,’saidRoboute.‘He’sright,’addedEmil.‘Weneverpassupafreemeal.’‘Free?’ saidMagos Tychon, leaning forwards in amusky cloud of sweet-smelling incense. ‘This

eveningisn’tfree.Thecostofthefoodanddammassinewillbedeductedfromyourfinder’sfeeandthevalueofrefitschedulesyounegotiatedwiththearchmagos.’

VitaliTychon’sfacewasimpossibletoread.Superficially, itresembledwhathemusthavelookedlikeasacreatureoffleshandblood,butmalleablesub-dermalplastekshadbeeninjectedinthedeadmeat of his face,makinghim look like anup-hivemannequin.His eyesweremultifaceted chips ofgreen in eye sockets that were just a little too wide to be entirely natural looking, and there werealtogethertoomanymetallicfingersholdingthethinstemofhisglass.

‘Really?’saidEmil.‘Andthisstufftastesexpensive.’‘Oh,itis,MisterNader,’saidVitali.‘Ruinouslyso.’Roboute almost laughed at the shock on Emil’s face as he looked for a servitor to take his

untouchedglassaway.‘Damn,Iwishthey’dtoldusthatwhenwecamein.’RoboutesawamischievoustwinkleinTychon’semeraldopticsandsmiledasLinyaTychonplaced

a reassuringhandonEmil’s elbow.Roboute caught the flashofbrass-rimmedaugmetics ather earbeneathstrandsofblondehair,andthetelltaleglassinessofartificialeyes.Subtlydoneandimplantedwiththeintentofretainingherhumanity.

‘Ibelievemyfatherismakingajoke,MisterNader,’saidLinya.‘It’sabadhabitofhis,becausehehasawoefulsenseofhumour.’

‘Ajoke?’saidEmil.‘Yes,’ agreedTychondelightedly. ‘Averbal construct saidaloud to causeamusementor laughter,

eitherintheformofastorywithanunexpectedpunchlineoraplayonwordexpectation.’‘IthoughttheMechanicusdidn’ttelljokes,’saidAdara.‘We don’t usually,’ said Linya, ‘because the humour gland is one of the first things surgically

removedwhenonetakestheArchimedeanOath.’‘Ididn’tknowthat,’saidAdara.‘Didyouknowthat,captain?’‘Don’tbeanidiotallyourlife,lad,’saidSylkwood,givinghimacliproundtheear.‘Nowgogetme

anotherdrinkandtrynottodoanythingtoomonumentallystupidalongtheway.’Adaranoddedandwanderedoffinsearchofanotherservitor,rubbingthebackofhisheadwhere

thehardmetalofSylkwood’shandhadlikelybruisedhim.‘Don’tworry,’saidRoboute.‘We’renotallthatnaïve.’‘Ah,tobesoyoungandfoolish,captain,’saidAnders.‘IdoubtyouwereeverasfoolishasAdara,colonel,’saidRoboute.‘Myfathermightdisagreewithyou,thoughit’skindofyoutosayso.’Roboute raised his glass and said, ‘Wewere admiring the quarters you’ve been allocated.More

luxuriousthanIimagineyou’reusedto.’‘Mostpeoplemightthinkso,butjustbecausewecomefromCadiadoesn’tmeanwedon’tenjoya

bitofsoftlivingnowandagain.’‘Don’ttellmeanymore,’saidRoboute.‘You’llspoilallmyillusions.’Roboute turned to acknowledge Magos and Mistress Tychon. ‘You are settling in well aboard

ArchmagosKotov’sship?’‘Verywell,CaptainSurcouf,’saidVitaliTychon.‘Theshipisawonder,isitnot?’‘IconfessIhaven’tseentoomuchofit,’headmitted.‘Ah, you must, dear boy,’ said Vitali. ‘It is not every day that one is permitted to explore so

incredibleavessel.Aspacefarerlikeyououghttoappreciatethat.Itwouldbemyveryrealpleasuretoactasyourguideshouldyoudecidetolearnmoreofitsheritage.Infact,MagosSaiixekofengineeringovertherewasjusttellingmeofthecomplexarrangementsofthedrivechambersand–’

Colonel Anders intervened beforeVitali could expound further, saying, ‘Captain;Mistress Linyawasjusttellingmeofwhatbroughtherandherfatheralongonthisvoyage.Fascinatingstuff,muchmoreinterestingthantheusualthingsIhearatfunctionslikethis.’

‘Whatdoyounormallyhear?’‘Mostly it’ssome localdignitarywho’stooscaredofwhatever’s invadedhisworldtodoanything

butbabbleabouthowthankfulheisthatwe’rehere,orsomedefenceforcemartinetwho’sscaredofbeingshownupbytheprofessionals.Embarrassing,really.’

‘Captain,IthinkI’llgomakesureAdaradoesn’tgethimselfintotrouble,’saidEmil,withacasualsalutetoColonelAndersandtheTychons.

‘I’ll comewithyou,’ saidSylkwood,settingoff in thedirectionof theengineeringmagosTychonhadpointedout.PerhapsFelsparmighthavealuckyescapefromSylkwood’sattentionsafterall.

RobouteturnedhisattentiontoLinyaTychon,whotookanappreciativesipofherdammassine.‘SowhatdidbringyoualongonKotov’sexpedition?’heasked.‘Thesamethingthatbroughtyou,captain,’saidLinya.‘Areyousure?’saidRoboute.‘BecauseIcamealongforanobscenelylargesumofmoneyandanin

perpetuitusrefitcontractformytradefleet.’‘FromamagoswithnoforgeholdingsbeyondtheredsandsofMars?’‘Ourcontractdoesn’tspecifythoserefitsneedtobecarriedoutinoneofMagosKotov’sforges.’‘I’msure,but it seems likea flimsy reasonwhenyouraexactor recordsshow thatyoucaneasily

affordthetithestheMechanicusrequiresforrefitcontracts.’‘You’ve read my aexactor records?’ said Roboute. ‘Aren’t they supposed to be sealed by the

Administratum?’‘The entire record of your life became freely available to inload by anymagos themoment you

contractedwiththeAdeptusMechanicus,’saidLinya.‘Surelyyoumusthaveknownthat?’Roboutehadn’t,andheblanchedasVenAndersandMagosTychonlaughedathimsquirminglike

afishonahook.AcoldlumpofdreadformedinthepitofhisstomachatthethethoughtthateverymagosaboardtheSperanzamightknoweverythingabouthim.

‘Let’shopeyou’venothingtohide,captain,’saidAnder.‘Notatall,pureasthedrivensnow,’saidRoboute,swiftlyrecoveringhisequilibrium.Hewaswary

ofthisunexpectedbackandforth,buthadtoadmithewasenjoyingit.‘Allrightthen,MistressTychon.

WhydoyouthinkI’vecomeallthiswaytotravelbeyondtheHaloScarintounknownspaceifnotfortheundeniablefinancialgain?’

‘Becauseyou’rebored.’‘Bored?Thelifeofaroguetraderishardlyaboringone.’‘ToanyonenotofUltramar,maybe it’snot,but it’s tooeasy foryou, isn’t it? Inaddition toyour

aexactor records, I inloadedyour servicehistory; IaxDefenceAuxilia records,Navy jacket andyoursubsequentdealingsafteryourreturntoImperialspaceafterthedestructionofthePreceptor.’

‘Whythekeeninterestinmyhistory?’‘Because I like toknow the characterof theman that’s leadingmy father and I intoa regionof

spacethatmightseeusdead.’‘Theladyhasapoint,’saidAnders.‘Ithinkwe’dallliketoknowthat.’‘Isuppose,’saidRoboute.‘Sowhatdoesallthatresearchtellyou,Linya?MayIcallyouLinya?’‘Youmay,’saidLinya,andRobouterelaxedafraction.WhateverLinyaTychon’spurpose,itwasn’t

toexposehim.‘WhatittellsmeisthatthereareworsetrainingsforlifethantoberaisedinUltramar,Roboute.MayIcallyouRoboute?’

‘I’dbehurtifyoudidn’t.’‘Thankyou.Ithinkyouareamanwhothrivesonchallenge,andthelifeofaroguetradernolonger

challengesyou.You’vemadeyourfortuneandyourtraderoutesaresowellorganisedthattheymoreorlessrunthemselves.Sowhatisleftforamanlikeyouexcepttoexploreoneofthemostdangerousregionsofspaceinthegalaxy?’

‘That’sveryastuteofyou,Linya.’‘Issheright?’askedColonelAnders,haltingaservitorbearingdelicately-wroughtcanapésofspun

pastryandreclaimedmeatpaste.Roboutenoddedslowly. ‘Herebedragons,’hesaid. ‘That’swhatthemapsofOldEarthsaidwhen

theirmakersdidn’tknowwhat laybeyondthefurthestreachesoftheirknowledge,andthat’sanaptphrasewhenyou’retalkingaboutwhatmightlieinthedepthsofwildernessspace.’

‘Youwanttoseedragons?’askedAnders.‘Inamannerofspeaking,’saidRoboute.‘Linya’srightaboutlifeinUltramar,itinstillsaworkethic

unlikeanyother,adeterminationtoalwaysstriveforthenexthorizon.I’vedoneverywellasaroguetrader,verywell.I’vemademoremoneythanIcouldeverhopetospend.There’sonlysomanythingsamancanbuy,soonceyouhaveallyouwantwhat’sleftexcepttoventureintotheunknownandachievesomethingworthwhile?IwanttoseewhatliesbeyondtheImperium’sborders,toseewondersthatnoothermanhasknownandtosailbythe lightofstarsthatshineonworldsthatknownothingoftheGod-Emperor.’

‘Aworthyambition,’saidMagosTychon.‘Butsuchambitioncomesataprice.ToventureintotheHalo Scar, to go beyond the guiding light of the Astronomican? That is to sail in uncharted andunrememberedspace.Treacherousseas indeed.Suchplacesare thestuffofnightmaresandtalesofhorror.Thelastexpeditionthatventuredthiswaywasneverseenagain.’

‘Iknow,’saidRoboute.‘Yourdaughterisn’ttheonlyonewhoknowshowtoresearch.’

Dinnerwasannouncedwith a fanfare from the recorded colours band, and the assembled officers,magiandciviliansmadetheirwayintoalongdiningroomilluminatedbyflickeringelectro-flambeauxheldaloftbytinysuspensorfields.Thewallswerehungwithlongbanners,representationsoftheIconMechanicusandhonourrollsofCadia’svictoriesanditsmanynotableLordGenerals.AholographicrecordingofUrsarkarCreed’s famousaddress to the troopsatTyrokFieldsplayedona loop fromashimmeringprojector-plinthatthefarendoftheroom,andaburblinghissofbinaricprayersissuedfromhiddenvox-grilles.

Steelplacesettingscarvedwithfractal-patterneddesignsbasedonanever-decreasingsequenceofperfectnumbersindicatedeachguest’sallocatedseat,andRoboutewaspleasedtofindhimselfwithLinyaTychonbesidehim.Amagoswithbulked-outshouldersandaskullthatwashalffleshandhalfbronzedsteelsatonhis left,andthetwohulkingSpaceMarinestooktheirseatsoppositehim.EmilandAdaraweresituatedfartherdownthetable,andRoboutewasn’tsurprisedtoseethatSylkwoodhadswappedplaceswithajuniorCadianofficersoastobeseatednexttotheengineeringmagosshe’dcorneredearlier.

Thefirstcoursewasservedbyacadreofslender-bonedservitors;arichsoupofboldflavourthatonly thosewith taste budswere served.The adepts of theMechanicuswere insteadpresentedwithornamentedtankardsfilledwithaliquidthatsteamedgentlyandgaveoffafaint,chlorinatedaroma.Conversationwasanimated,thoughRoboutenoticedthattheCadiansseemedtobedoingmostofthetalking.

Linya introduced Roboute to themagos seated next to him, an adept by the name of HirimauDahan,whoserankwas,hewasbrusquelyinformed,aSecutor.

Seeing Roboute’s ignorance of the term, Dahan said, ‘I train the skitarii and develop battleschematicstoenhancecombateffectivenessinallthemartialarmsoftheMechanicus.Myroleaboardthisshipistofullyembedallknownkillingtechniques,weaponusageand/ortacticalsubroutinesintoourcombatdoctrinewithoptimaleffectiveness.’

ThebeardedSpaceMarinegruntedatthat,butRoboutecouldn’tdecideifitwasinamusementorderision.YearsbeforeonMacragge,RoboutehadspokentoawarrioroftheAdeptusAstartes,buttheencounterhadn’t beenparticularly successful, sohewaswaryof initiatinganother verbal exchangewithapost-human.

‘Youdon’tagreewithMagosDahan’sapproach?’heasked.TheTemplarlookedathimasthoughtryingtodecidewhatresponsewasmostappropriate.‘Ithinkheisafool,’saidthewarrior.Roboute felt more than saw Dahan’s posture change and tasted a bitter secretion of pungent

chemicalstimulantsinthebackofhisthroat.Hishandcurledintoafistofitsownaccordandasharpflavour ofmetal shavings filled hismouth.He blinked away a sudden burst of aggression as LinyaTychonleanedclosetohim.

‘Breathe in,’shewhisperedinhisear,andherbreathwasasoothingcompoundofscents,warmhoneyandripe fruit that took theedgeoffhis inexplicableanger. ‘YouarebeingaffectedbyMagosDahan’spheromone response.Combat stimmsandadrenal shuntsareboostinghisaggressors, and

youdon’thavetheolfactoryfilterstoavoidtheeffectsofbeingsoclosetohim.’‘Clarify:Explainthecontentofyourlastremark,’saidDahan,andthetautdesiretodoviolencewas

unmistakableinhisbodylanguage.‘Apologies,MagosDahan,’saidKulGilad.‘Brother-SergeantTannaspokewithoutproperthought.

HeisunusedtodealingwithmortalsnotboundtoourChapter.’‘Mortals?’saidRoboute,latchingontotheReclusiarch’semphasisontheword.‘Iwasn’tawarethat

SpaceMarineswereimmortal.’‘Anill-chosenlinguistictermperhaps,’allowedKulGilad,‘butnolesstrueforallthat.Asourgene-

seed returns to theChapter, our biological legacy lives on in thenext generationofwarriors.But Isensethatisnotwhatyouimply.Yes,forallintentsandpurposes,weareimmortal.BrotherAuidenisourApothecary,butIamgiventounderstandthatourbodiesexperiencesenescenceatanartificiallyreduced rate and that we were engineered to endure for a far longer span than less engineeredphysiologies.’

‘Soyoustilldie?’askedLinya.‘Eventuallyeverythingmustdie,MistressTychon,’saidKulGilad.‘EvenSpaceMarines,butalifeof

eternalcrusadingintheEmperor’snameensuresthatfewofuslivelongenoughtodiscoverwhatourspanmightbe.’

‘Thoughlongevitydoesnotapparentlyequatetotheproperobservanceofprotocol,’saidDahan.‘Likeyou,MagosDahan,wedonotnormallyinteractwithoutsiders,’saidKulGilad,andthedeep

well ofpower inhiswordsmadeRoboutegladhewasn’t on the receiving endofhisharshglare. IfDahanfeltintimidatedbytheReclusiarch’sgaze,hedidanadmirablejobofhidingit.

‘ThenperhapsBrother-SergeantTannamightexplainhismeaninginalessprovocativemanner?’suggestedLinya.‘WhydoeshedisagreewithMagosDahan’smethod?’

‘Ofcourse,’agreedKulGilad.‘Brother-sergeant?’ThoughTanna’sfeatureswerebluntandsmoothedtothepointofrobbinghimoftheconventional

micro-expressions thatprovided visual cues tohismeaning,Roboute sawhedidnotwant to speakaloud.

‘Youspeakofcombatasthoughitcanbereducedtonumbersandequations,’saidTanna.‘Thatisamistake.’

Roboutewaitedforhimtosaymore,butthat,itseemed,wastheextentofTanna’scritique.‘Combat is numbers and equations,’ said Dahan. ‘Speed, reach, muscle mass, skeletal density,

reactiontime.Allthesefactorsandmorearemeasurableandpredictable.Likeanychaoticsystem,ifyou feed it enoughdata, the variations in outcomebecomenegligible.Giveme themeasure of anyopponentandIcandefeathimwithstatisticalcertainty.’

‘Youarewrong,’saidTannawithafinalitythatwashardtodispute.Dahanleanedforwardsandplacedfourhandsonthetable.Roboutehadn’trealisedthemagoshad

multiple arms, and saw the hands had eight fingers, each with more knuckles than was surelynecessary.

‘Thenperhapsanempiricaldemonstrationofprinciplesisrequired,’saidDahan.Tannaconsideredthisforamomentbeforereplying.‘Youwishtofightme?’

‘Youoroneofyourwarriors,’answeredDahan,hismultiplefingersundulatingacrosstheirmanypointsofarticulation.‘Theoutcomewillbethesame.’

TannalookedtoKulGilad,andtheReclusiarchgaveacurtnod.‘Verywell,’saidTanna.‘Acombatwillbefought.’‘Iwouldverymuchliketoseethatbout,’saidRoboute.Tannafixedhimwithacoldstare.‘TheTemplarsarenotinthehabitofputtingondisplays.’

Thenext coursewas aplatter of roastedmeats, steamedvegetablematter and some formof boilednoodle that tasted faintly of sterilising fluids, butwhichwas palatablewhen combinedwith a richplumsaucepouredfromtheregimentalsilverware.Roboutetuckedintohismealwithgusto,enjoyingthenoveltyofacookedmeal insteadof reconstitutedproteinsandbrackishrecycledwater thathadbeenaroundtheRenard’scoolantsystemsmorethanonce.

Thedammassinewaspouredfreely,andRoboutefelthimselfbecomingalittlelightheadeddespitetheinhibitorsinhisaugmeticliverfiltratinganddissipatingthealcoholaroundhissystem.

HespoketoMagosDahanofthelogisticsofcompilingthousandsofbattleinloads,toLinyaTychonof herwork on the orbital galleries of Quatria and to Kul Gilad of the time he had been fortunateenough to see a squad of Ultramarines on the streets of First Landing. The Reclusiarch askednumerous questions regarding his brother warriors’ bearing, their numbers, equipment andidentifyingmarkings.IttookamomentbeforeRobouterealisedhewasassemblingacombatanalysis,justashewouldonanenemyformation.HewonderediftheAdeptusAstarteshadanyotherframeofreferencewithwhichtoassimilateinformation.Waseveryfactandeverymorselofknowledgesimplyapieceofapuzzlethatwouldallowthemtofightwithgreateraptitude?

Perhapstheircombatphilosophywasn’tsodifferentfromthatofMagosDahanafterall.Asthedinnerprogressed,ColonelAndersregaledthetablewithacharismaticretellingofthe71st’s

mostrecentcampaignonBaktarIIIagainstthexenosspeciesknownasthetau.Thetalewastoldinfits and starts,with various officers interjectingwith different aspects of the fight. A burn-scarredlieutenant toldofhowhis companyshotdownsquadronafter squadronofxenos skimmersas theyattempted to scout a route through a wooded river valley. A blithely handsome captain namedHawkins spoke of the valorous actions of a commissar by the name of Florian who had kept theregiment’scoloursflyingevenafterataufusionweaponhadboiledmostofhisfleshtovapourinthefinalmomentsofthebattle.

Heads nodded in respect to the fallen commissar, which struck Roboute as unusual. As a rule,commissarswerefearedand,inmostcases,respected,butrarelyweretheyhonouredbytheregimentsoverwhosementheyhadthepoweroflifeanddeath.

As the ensemble war story was concluded, Roboute had a sense there wasmore to it than thesoldierswererevealing,butknewenoughtoknowthatwhathappenedintheheatofbattleoughttostaythere.Andersrosetohisfeetwithhisglassraised,andRoboutestoodalongwiththerestoftheofficersandtheMechanicusadepts.

‘ThedeadofCadia,’saidAnders,downinghisdammassine.‘Fireandhonour!’

‘Fireandhonour!’roaredtheCadians,andRobouteyelleditalongwiththem.Servitorsquicklyrefilledtheemptyglassesinthemomentsofreverentsilenceamongtheofficers

as they remembered thedeadof that campaign.At last everyone satwith a scrape of chairs on themetaldeck,andthereflectivemoodwasinstantlyreplacedbyoneofgoodhumour.

‘Right,nowthatyou’veallheardjusthowheroicweare,Ithinkit’stimeweheardsomewarstoriesfrom our guests,’ saidColonel Anders. ‘Captain Surcouf,whenwe firstmet, you said you’d tell theReclusiarchhowamanofUltramarbecamearoguetrader.Thisseemslikeasgoodatimeasanytomakegoodonthatpromise.’

Roboutehadbeenexpectingthis,andwasonlysurprisedithadtakensolong.‘It’sreallynotthatinterestingastory,’hesaid,buthiswordsweredrownedoutbypalmsbanging

onthetableandachorusofdemandsforhimtotellhistale.‘Iseriouslydoubtthat,’saidAnders,hisbrasslizard-petscuttlingdownhisarmtothetable,where

itcurledaroundthestemofhisglass.‘AnystorythatinvolvesanUltramarianstarch-arse,nooffence,going fromhis straight-up-and-down lifestyle to aplanet-hoppingbrigandmust be interesting.Outwithit,man!’

Roboute knew the colonel’s words were not meant as an insult, but simply the result of thecommonmisconceptionthatroguetraderswerelittlebetterthanplanet-strippingcorsairswhohauledlootedtreasuresfromallacrossthegalaxyintheircargoholds.Helookedacrossthetable,andsawKulGiladstaringathimintently.Rightaway,heknewthathonestywouldbehisbestcourse,andgatheredhismemoriesfromalifehe’dlongagoputasideandcompartmentalised.

‘Verywell,’saidRoboute,‘I’lltellyouhowithappened,butyouwon’tlikeit.’

Microcontent10

Roboutetookadeepbreathbeforebeginning.‘I’dtakenacommissionwiththeNavy;anensignaboardafrigatepatrollingthewesternreachesofUltramar.TheInvigilam,outofKarDuniash.Shewasagoodship, reliableandkeptus safe, sowereturned the favour. I servedaboardher foralmost fiveyears,steadilyrisingthroughtheranksuntilIwasabridgeofficer.’

‘Itakeityousawaction?’askedAnders.‘Twice,’saidRoboute.‘Thefirstwasagainstamobofgreenskinshipsthatfellin-systemfromthe

northernmarches.Thatdidn’ttestusmuch;wehadaDominatorwithus,UltimaPraetor,anditsnovacannon punished them hard before they even got close to us. Once we were in among them, thePraetor’sbroadsidesandourtorpedoestoretheorkjunkersapartandhadthemsuckingvacuuminsideofanhour.’

‘Igetthesensethatyoursecondactionwasn’taseasy,’saidAnders.‘No,itwasn’t,’agreedRoboute.‘Ataufleethadbeennibblingawayatterritoryontheextremeedge

oftheArcadianrim-worldsandwewentintodrivethemoff.Theyhadn’tmadeanyovertlyaggressivemoves, just somesabre-rattling really,butoperationalbriefs toldus thatwas typicalofhow the taubegantheircampaignsofexpansion.Wewereashowofforce,areminderthatthiswasourspace,nottheirs. And tomake that point clear, theUltramarines despatchedBlue Lighter, a Second CompanystrikecruiserfromtheCalthyards.’

‘Sowhathappened?’askedAnders.‘Weknowonlytoowellhowthosealienscanfight.’‘Wekeptpushing themback,doing littlemore thanplayingagameof jaband feintwith them,’

said Roboute. ‘The SpaceMarineswere pushing for an engagement, but the tau kept pulling back,scatteringandregrouping. Itwas like theydidn’twant to fight,butdidn’twant toget too farawayfromuseither.’

‘Theyweredrawingyouin,’saidDahan.‘As it turns out, yes,’ said Roboute. ‘Command authority automatically fell to the Ultramarines

captain,andhewasspoiling fora fight.Eventually,wecornered the tauships inapocketofhyper-densegas fields filledwithagglomerationsofdebrisandstreamsofejectedmatter fromanancientsupernova.Wethoughtwehadthem,butitwasanambush.Therewereacoupleofwarsphereshidden

in theelectromagnetic soup thatwehadn’t seen.Theyhitushard, reallyhard,and tookdamnneareveryscrapofvoidswehad.BlueLightertooksomebadhits,butthatdidn’tseemtobotherit,andthePraetortookabeating.Thetaufleetturnedaboutandswarmeduslikeangrysulphur-wasps.

‘They’dhurtus,butthey’dforgottenthefirstruleofanambush:hithardandfast,andthengetthehellout.Navyshipsareold,but they’re toughandcan takea lotofpunishmentbefore theyneed todisengage. The tau thought they’d crippled us and they pressed the attack when they should havebrokenoff.BlueLighterturnedandblewawaytwoshipsbeforetheygotclosetousandthenwentforthewarspheres.’

‘ASpaceMarinestrikecruiserisaforcemultipliernottobeunderestimated,’saidKulGilad.‘You’re not wrong,’ said Roboute. ‘It gutted those warspheres. They couldn’t manoeuvre fast

enoughandtheUltramarinesjustsavagedthem,blowingoutgreatchunksoftheirstructurewiththeirbombardmentcannonandthenbroadsidingthemagainandagain.Itwasn’tpretty,andwhenthetaucruisersgotinclosewithus,weshowedthemthatittakesmorethanasuckerpunchofanambushtotakeImperialshipsofthelineoutofafight.Itgotscrappyandugly,butwepinnedtheminplace,andwhenBlueLighterchargedin,itwasallover.’

‘Aworthy fight,’ saidDahan. ‘I am inloading thedata from theManifoldnow.Youneglected tomentionthatyouearnedmultiplecommendationsinthatengagement,CaptainSurcouf.YoureceivedaBakkanHeartforbeingwoundedinbattle,andtheInvigilam’scaptainputyournameforwardfortheNavalLaurel,theMacharianStarandrecommendedthatyoubegivencommandrankattheearliestavailableopportunity.’

‘CaptainCybelewasagoodman,’saidRoboute.‘Hedidn’twanttoloseme,butheknewIwouldn’tbesatisfieduntilIhadmyownship.’

‘Ships do not belong to their captains,’ pointed outMagos Saiixek, his crimson robes billowingwithescapinggustsoffreezingair.

‘Myapologies,magos,afigureofspeech,’saidRoboute.‘Sodidyougetacommand?’askedColonelAnders.‘No, though Iwas promoted to the rank of executive officer aboard thePreceptor, aGothic-class

cruiser laiddownin theorbitalsofGatharaStationtwothousandyearsago.She’dbeenassignedtoBattlefleetTartarus,andCaptainMindarus...well,let’sjustsayhewasamanwho’drisentocaptaincythroughacombinationofluck,connectionsandbrazenridingonthecoat-tailsofhisbetters.’

‘Sucha thingwouldneverhappen inaSpaceMarineChapter,’ saidKulGilad, as thoughdaringanyonetocontradicthim.‘Skillatarmsalonedecideswhocommands.’

‘ThePreceptorislistedintheManifoldasdestroyedwithallhands,’saidMagosDahan.‘ThedataiscorroboratedbyNavalfleetregistryandhasparitywithAdeptusMechanicuslogs.Howisitthatyouarestillalive?’

‘Yes,thePreceptorwasdestroyed,andIwasaboarditwhenithappened,’saidRoboute.‘Howisthatpossible?’askedLinya.‘BecauseCaptainMindaruswasanarrogant foolwhoknewnext tonothingabout voidwar.He

camefromanoldScarusfamilythathadsentallitssonstotheNavy,andhethoughtthatwasenoughwhenitcametocommandingawarship.’

‘Sowhathappened?’askedAnders.Thediningroomhadgrownquiet,everyofficerandmagosgatheredatthetablelisteningintently

toRoboute’s tale.Hefelt theroomgrowingsmaller;agradualsenseofclaustrophobiasettlinguponhim as he recalled the final voyage of the Preceptor. He took a deep breath and thought of theastrogationcompassinhisstateroom,withitsneedle’sdoomedattemptstofindabearing.

‘We’d beenhunting a reaver fleet thatwas using theCaligariReef asteroid belt to raid convoyscoming in through theAuvillardMandevillepoint,’ beganRoboute. ‘ThePreceptor hada solidbridgecrewandwe felt confidentwe could take on anything they threwatus, evenwithMindarus at thehelm,butwhatwedidn’tknowwasthatthereaversweren’tactingalone,theyhadhelp.’

‘Whatkindofhelp?’askedMagosDahan.‘Arch-Enemyhelp,’repliedRoboute,feelingtheaggressiveswellofemotionintheroom.Cadians

knewfrombitterexperiencehowterribleitwastofightthemonstrousenemiesthatstruckfromtheEye of Terror. To Cadian regiments, battles against Archenemy forces were about more than justvictory,theywerepersonal.ThoughthefateofthePreceptorwascleartoeverymanaroundthetable,Roboutecouldfeelthemwillinghistale’sendingtobedifferent.

‘We never found out the name of the ship that attacked us,’ Roboute said eventually. ‘The vox-officers and auspex-servitorswere killed in the openingminuteswhen it screamed at them. Flash-burnedtheirbrainsintheirskullsbeforeweevenrealiseditwasthere.Ablood-redhellshiprushedusfromthecoverofarad-shearingasteroidandscatteredourescortsinafrenzyofbatteryfire.Atthesame time it hit uswithmultiple lance batteries that tore downmost of our shields in amatter ofminutes.

‘Evensoweweren’toutofthefight,butMindaruspanickedandtriedtobreakcontactinsteadofhittingback.Heturnedusaboutovermystrenuousobjectionsanddivertedpowerfromtheshieldstotherepaircrewsandengines.Itriedtoreasonwithhim,totellhimthatweneededtofightourwayclear,notrunlikeascaredgrox-pup.HescreamedatmethatIwasbeingmutinousandorderedthebridgearmsmentoescortmefromthebridge.’

‘Sowhatdidyoudo?’askedAnders.‘Thearmsmenwerejustabouttoclapmeinironswhenthehellshipstrafeduswithsomekindof

particlewhip.Strippedaway the lastof the shields and litupour topside like a fireworksdisplay. Idon’tknowwhatthatweaponwas,butittorerightthroughtheshipandbreachedcleanthroughtoourlowerdecks.Ventedhalf thecrewcompartmentstospaceandemptiedoutthegundecksbeforewecouldfireback.Feedbackdamageandsecondaryexplosionsblewbackintothebridgeandafirestormgutteddamnneareverystation.Iwaslucky,thearmsmenshieldedmefromtheblast,butmostofthecommandstaffwerelittlemorethancharredcorpsesorscreaming,meltedlumpsoffusedboneandash.SomeofthebravestmenI’dservedwithweredead,butthatbastardMindaruswasstillaliveandstillscreamingthatwe’dfailedhim,thatthiswasn’thisfault.Canyoubelieveit?Hisshipwasdyingaroundhimandhewasstilllookingforsomeoneelsetoblameforhisstupidity.

‘Ourescortsweregone.They’dfledwhenthey’dseenusgodown,andwhenthereaversswarmedoutafter thehellship Iknewweweredead in thevoid.Wewere leakingatmosphereand those fewcompartmentsthatstillheldairwereonfire.ThePreceptorwasdead,noquestionaboutit,andwhen

Mindarus disengaged from his command pulpit and yelled that I had to escort him to the saviourpods...well,that’swhenIsnapped.’

‘Snapped?’askedAnders.‘Whatdoesthatmean?’‘ItmeansthatIshothim,’saidRoboute,elicitingagaspofsurprisefromhisaudience.Eventhe

magimanagedtolookshocked.‘Itookoutmysidearmandblewhisdamnedheadoff,’saidRoboute.‘He’dkilledusandhewanted

toabandonhisship?Icouldn’tletthatstand,soIemptiedmypowercellintohiscorpse.’Roboutetookadeepbreath,rememberingthemomenthe’ddroppedhispistolontopofthe las-

seared body of Captain Mindarus. He’d felt nothing; no righteous elation or vindication, just anemptinessthathadlodgedinhisheartlikeasplinter.

‘Youkilledyourcaptain?’askedAnders.‘Yes, and I’ddo it again inaheartbeat,’ saidRoboute. ‘His incompetence saw thousandsofmen

dead.’‘Thenhedidnotdeservetolive,’saidKulGilad.‘Youdidtherightthing,CaptainSurcouf.’‘Itdidn’tmatteranyway.Therewasnothinglefttodobutwaitforthehellshiptofinishthejob.We

wereburningand losingatmosphere,buttherewasstillenoughofourhullandonboardsystemstomakeusworthwhilesalvage.IknewitwasonlyamatteroftimeuntilthePreceptorwasboarded,soIgatheredupeveryfirearmIcouldfindandwaitedfortheenemyboarderstocome.I’dkillasmanyasIcouldandsaveonebulletforme.NowaywasIlettingthemtakeme.Iwaitedonthatscorchedbridgeforhoursonend,buttheynevercame.’

‘Doyouknowwhy?’Robouteshookhishead. ‘Notatthetime,no.MostofourauspexesweredownandIwasn’t ina

hurrytoplugintowhatwasleftofsurveyorcontrol.Icouldhearthehellship’sscreams,eventhoughtherewasnothingleftofthevox-system.Itscreamedfordays,butthenitjuststoppedandIknewithad gone.Maybe there were other survivors, I never found out, but all I’d done was postpone theinevitable. I couldn’t leave the bridge without losing atmosphere, and the temperature was fallingrapidly. I didn’t have any food or water, and I knew the compartment was losing pressure as theintegrityofthestructuralmembersbegantofail.Iceonthehullkeptitfromventingexplosively,butIhad a few days at best before Iwas a deadman, either from cold or dehydration. I thought aboutputtingaguntomyheadtogetitoverwithquickly,butthat’snottheUltramarway.Younevergiveup,neverstopfightingandneverlosehope.’

‘Ableaksituation,’saidVitaliTychon.‘Iamintriguedtolearnhowyousurvived.’‘It’ssimple,’saidRoboute.‘Iwaspickedupbyanotherstarship.’‘Thestatisticallikelihoodofbeingrescuedbyapassingshipissoutterlyimprobablethatitmight

aswellbezero,’saidMagosBlaylock.‘Inanycase,theArch-Enemyvesselmustsurelyhavebeenawareofanycraftsufficientlyclosetoreachyouintime.Whywoulditnotengagethisothership?’

‘Thehellshipdidn’tengagebecauseitknewitcouldn’twin,’saidRoboute.‘Howisthatpossible?’Roboutetookadeepbreathbeforeanswering.‘Becauseitwasaneldarship,’hesaid.

Stunned silence greeted Roboute’s pronouncement. They had perhaps expected to hear of a lastsaviourpod,oneofthePreceptor’sescortsreturningtolookforsurvivorsorsomeotheraccountofgoodfortune;miraculous,butexplicableasoneofthemanyfacetsofwarthatbeggaredbelief.

Noneofthemhadexpectedxenosintervention.‘Aneldarship?’growledKulGilad.‘Yes,’ saidRoboute. ‘Awarship ofAlaitoc craftworld called Isha’sNeedle. It had beenhunting the

hellshipfordecadesandwasonthevergeofspringingitsowntrapwhenweblunderedintoitssnarebyaccident.’

‘Whywould theyevenbother topickyouup?’askedAnders. ‘Don’tmisunderstand, I’mgladyousurvived,butitseemsmorelikelytheeldarwouldhappilyseeyoudie.’

‘I never found outwhy they pickedme up,’ saidRoboute. ‘Not for sure. I don’t even remembermuchofhowtheygotmeoffthePreceptor,justastrangelightdancinglikeaminiaturewhirlwindbythebridgepulpitwhereI’ddecidedIwasgoingtodie.Thenafigureinredarmour,withsomekindofelongatedpack,appearedfromthelightandliftedmeup.ThenextthingIrememberIwaswakingupinasoftbedwithmyburnswrappedinbandagesandskingrafts.’

KulGiladleanedforwardsandRoboutefelthissimmeringhatred.‘Ihavelostbravewarriorstotheeldar,’saidtheReclusiarch.‘Fivewarriorswhosedeedsareetched

inthelastremainsoftheAnnapurnaGate,heroesall.Emperor’sChampionAeliusfellatDantiumnotmorethanayearago.Apackofscreamingkillers tookhisheadandtheirwarp-bitchstoleawaytheremainsofhissacredblade.’

‘I grievewith you, Reclusiarch,’ saidRoboute. ‘I knowhowpainful it is to losemen under yourcommand.Ilostawholeshipofmenandwomenthatdependedonme.’

‘Howlongdidyouliveamongthexenos?’askedKulGilad.‘Almostayear.Theytreatedmewellenough,butIgotthefeelingIwasnevermorethanapassing

curiositytothem,awhimtheymightsoontireof.Ionlyevermetahandfulofthecrew;thehealerswhotreatedmywounds,andapairofsculptorsnamedYrlandriarandIthandriel.’

‘Ashipofwarnumberedsculptorsamongitscrew?’saidKulGilad,plainlydisbelieving.‘SculptorisaboutthebestanalogyIcanthinkof,’saidRoboute.‘Theymadeartwork,certainly,but

Ithinkthatwasjustabyproductofwhattheyreallydidaboardship.’‘Whichwaswhat?’askedLinya.‘Theycalledthemselvesbonesingers,whichIthinkmeanttheycouldfixpartsoftheshipwhenthey

weredamagedorcreatenewparts if theywereneeded.Ioncewatchedthemgrowanewsectionofhullfromlittlemorethanaslivernobiggerthanmyfingernail.Itwastrulyamazing.’

‘Fascinating,’saidMagosBlaylock.‘Ihavelongbelievedthateldartechnologyisfashionedfromaformofbio-organicpolymerthatis,initsownway,alive.Theirshipsareessentiallygrownasopposedtobeingbuilt.’

‘You always did have an unhealthy interest in xenotech, Tarkis,’ said Saiixek, farther down thetable.‘Unnatural.YouforgettheNinthLaw:thealienmechanismisaperversionoftheTruePath.’

‘Youspeakwiththewilfulignoranceofonewhohaschosennottostudythetechnologyofxeno-species,’ retortedBlaylock. ‘Andyouare forgettingtheSixthLaw:understanding is theTruePath toComprehension.’

‘TheOmnissiahdoesnot dwellwithin suchblasphemous creations. Youheard the rogue trader,their technology isgrown. It isnotbuilt, itdoesnothave thesacredmech-animusat itsheart.Suchxeno-speciesareanaffronttotheImperiumandtheMachine-God.Rightlyaretheyabhorred.’

‘Tellme,’saidKulGilad,interruptingthenascenttheologicaldiscussionbetweenthemagi.‘WhatdidyoutelltheeldaroftheImperium?’

‘Nothing,’ said Roboute. ‘They never asked me about the Imperium and seemed entirelyuninterested in it. I told them of my life in Ultramar, the beauty of Iax and Espandor, the wildmountainsandoceansofMacragge.Itoldthemoffeastdaysandmyyouthfulmisadventures,nothingmore.Ifthey’drescuedmetolearnoursecretsthentheydidn’tdoanythingtofindoutwhatImightknow.’

‘Atleastnotthatyouwereawareof,’saidtheReclusiarch.‘Eldarwitchescanliftaman’sthoughtsfromhismindwith their sorceries. They are fiendish andpossessnothing in thewayofhonourormoralityasweknowit.TheythinktomaketheraceofMantheirpuppets, littlemorethanpiecestomovearoundacosmicregicideboardtoprolongtheirwretchedexistence.’

RobouteknewthiswasnotanargumenthecouldeverwinwithaSpaceMarine,andsaid, ‘IcanonlyspeakasIfind,Reclusiarch.Theeldartreatedmewell,andoncetheytiredofmeIwasleftonaplanetintheKoalithsystem,justoutsideanImperialcity.Andtherest,astheysay,ishistory.’

Therewasmoretoitthanthat,ofcourse,buttherewerelimitstohowfarhonestywouldcarryhiminsuchcompany.HowRoboutehadgonefromrefugeetoroguetraderwouldhavetoremainastoryuntoldfornow;toomanyofthisaudiencewouldnotapprove,understandorcondonehissubsequentactions.

AndifKotovknewthehalfofit,therewasyettimetothrowhimandhiscrewofftheSperanza.‘Right,’hesaid.‘What’sfordessert?’

The finalcoursewasaplatterof sugaredpastriesandsoft-fleshed fruitwithapinkcentre.Roboutewas relieved to feel the attention that had been focused on himnow shift, like a sniperwithmoreimportant targets to hunt. Localised conversations sprang up as themagi debated themerits andperilsofstudyingalientechnology,whiletheCadiansswappedstoriesofpreviousengagementsandwildspeculationonwhatenemiestheymightcomeupagainstontheothersideoftheHaloScar.TheSpaceMarinesexcusedthemselvesbeforedessertwasserved,andRoboutesawtheyhadtouchedlittleofthepreviouscourse.

‘Didn’ttheylikethefood?’hewondered.‘Isuspectitisbecausethismealisnutritionallyvaluelesstothem,’saidLinya.‘Thecalorificcontent

andmass-to-energy ratio of themeat and protein substitutesmakes it virtually irrelevant to theirdigestive systems. Itwouldbe likeyoueatingyournapkinandexpecting tobe sated.SpaceMarinefoodstuffsarenecessarilyhighinnutrients,aminoacidsandcomplexenzymestosustainthewealth

ofbiologicalhardwareintheirsystems.Wereyouunwiseenoughtoeatsomuchasamouthfulyourbodywouldsufferanexplosiveemeticreaction.’

‘I’mnotsurewhatthatmeans,butitsoundsunpleasant,’saidRoboute.‘Foryouandanyonenearby,’saidLinya.Roboutelaughedandtookanotherdrinkfromapassingservitor.Hetookamouthfulofdammassineandsaid,‘SowhatwereyoutellingthecolonelbeforeIarrived?

Somethingaboutwhyyouandyourfathercameonthisvoyage?Anddon’ttellmeit’sbecauseoftheloveofexploration.Thatmightbepartofit,butIknowthere’smoretoitthanwanderlust.’

Linya’sexpression,whichhadbeenfaintlyindulgentupuntilnow,turnedserious.‘You’reperceptive,Roboute,’shesaid. ‘ThoughI’lladmitthethoughtofexploringunknownspace

ontheothersideoftheHaloScarisappealing,you’reright,itisn’twhatbroughtushere.’‘Thenwhatdid?’She sighed, as though pondering the best way to answer. ‘How familiar are you with celestial

mechanics?Thelifecyclesofstarsandthephysicsoftheirvariousstagesofexistence?’Roboute shrugged. ‘Not very,’ he admitted. ‘I know they’re huge balls of gas with incredibly

powerfulnuclearreactionsattheirhearts,andthatit’sbesttokeepthemasfarawayaspossiblewhenyou’remakingthetranslationtowarpspace.’

‘That’saboutallmostspacefarersneedtoknow,’saidLinya. ‘But there’ssomuchmoregoingoninside a star that even themost gifted calculus-logi couldn’t begin to unravel the complexity of thereactionsandtheireffectsonthemagneto-radiationfieldsinthesurroundingchaoticsystems.’

‘Idon’tknowwhatanyofthatmeans,’saidRoboute.‘Ofcourse,butyouarefamiliarwiththeconceptthatthelightyouseefromastarisalreadyancient

bythetimeyouperceiveit?’‘Iam,yes.’‘Lighttravelsfast,veryfast,fasterthananythingelsewe’vebeenabletomeasureinthegalaxy,and

thenotionthatwemighteverbuildastarshipthatcanbreachthelightbarrierislaughable.’‘I’mfollowingyousofar,butbearinmindI’mnotCultMechanicus,’saidRoboute.‘Trustme,Iambearingthatinmind,’saidLinya.‘I’msimplifyingthisasbestIcan,andImeanno

offencetoyou,butitislikeexplainingcolourstoablindman.’Roboutetriednottobeoffendedbyhercasualdismissalofhisintellect,nowunderstandingitwas

typicaloftheaugmentedmindsoftheAdeptusMechanicustoimaginethateveryoneelsewasabrain-damagedsimpleton.

‘My father’smacroscopearraysareon theorbital galleriesofQuatria, and theyareamongst themost precise deep-space detection instruments in the segmentum. Theymeasure everything fromradiance levels, radiation output, radio waves, pulse waves, neutron flow, gravity deflection and athousandothercomponentsof thebackgroundnoiseof thegalaxy.My fathermapped thesouthernedgeofthegalaxyalmostfivehundredyearsago,creatingamapthatwasasexactinginitsprecisionasitwaspossibletobe.Itisaworkofart,really,amapthatisaccuratedowntoplusorminusonelighthour.Which, given the scales involved, is like a hivemap that shows every crack on every elevatedwalkway.’

‘Sohowhasthatbroughtyououthere?’‘Becausethestarsattheedgeofthegalaxyhavechanged.’‘Changed?’‘You have to understand that the changes that happen in the anatomy of a star take place over

incomprehensiblyvastspansofdeeptime.Theirtransitionsdon’thappenonascalethat’spossibletowitness.’

‘Sohowdoyouknowthey’reevenhappening?’‘Just because we can’t see something happening doesn’tmean it’s not,’ said Linya patiently, as

though teaching basic concepts to a child.Which, in effect, shewas. The properties of science andtechnologywerevirtuallyunknowntotheImperium’spopulace.WhatmightbebasictothepointofpatronisingforamemberoftheCultMechanicuswouldbewreathedinsuperstitionandmysticismtoalmosteveryoneelse.

‘Wecan’tperceiveviral interactionswiththenakedeye,sowecraftaugmeticopticstoseethem.Likewise,vox-wavesareinvisible,butweknowtheyexistbecausetheOmnissiahhasshownushowtobuildmachinesthatcansendandreceivethem.Thesamethingappliestostarsandtheirlifespans.Noonecanlivelongenoughtoobservetheconstantentropyoftheirexistence,sowestudytheoutputofthousandsofdifferentstarstoobservethevariousstagesofstellarlifecycles.Whatwesawwhenwelookedat thestarsoutby theHaloScarwas that the light levelsandradiationsignatures theywereemittinghadradicallychanged.’

‘Changedinwhatway?’‘Insimplestterms,they’dagedmillionsofyearsinthespaceofafewcenturies.’‘AndI’mguessingthat’snotnormal?’Linya shook her head. ‘It is entirely abnormal. Something has happened to those stars that’s

broughtthemtoalmosttheendoftheirlifecycles.Someofthemmayevenhavegonenovaalready,asthemeasurementswetookwereconstantlychangingandwerealreadycenturiesoldbythetimewedetectedthem.’

‘Doesthatmeanyoudon’tknowwhatwe’regoingtofindwhenwegetoutthere?’‘Inamannerofspeaking.Thecloserwegetthemorepreciseourdatawillbecome.TheSperanza

hassomeincrediblyaccuratesurveyorpackages,soI’dhopetohaveamuchbetterideaofwhatwe’regoingtofindbythetimewedropoutofthewarpatthegalacticboundary.’

‘You’dhope?’‘TheHaloScarmakesanymeasurements...complex.’‘Soyou’reseeingstarsgetoldquickly,’saidRoboute.‘Whatdoyouthinkiscausingit?’‘Ihavenoidea,’saidLinya.

Thedinnerbrokeupswiftlyafterthelastcoursewasclearedaway,theCadiansnotonestooverindulgeinpastimesthatmightimpairtheirrigoroustrainingregimes.NowthatRoboutelookedatthefacesaroundthetable,itappearedthatitwasonlyhimselfandEmilthathadpartakenalittletoofreelyofthefree-flowingdammassine.EnginseerSylkwoodhadleftearlierwithMagosSaiixek,thoughhewas

reasonablysureitwassimplytotalkenginesandcombustion.AdarahadfoundanaturalfitwiththeCadians,thecombat-testedGuardsmenquicklyrecognising

hisinnatefamiliaritywiththekillingarts.Thoughhe’dhadhisweapontakenfromhim,theyoungsterwasdemonstratingblade-to-bladefightingtechniqueswithhisbutterknife,andseveraljuniorofficerswerecopyinghismovements.

Emil had a deck of cards spread out before him on the table, taking bets from anyone foolishenoughtoputawagerdown.Thecardsdancedbetweenhisfingersasthoughtheyhadalifeoftheirown,andhisdexterityasmuchashisluckwasimpressingthosearoundhim.

‘Soldiersliketobearoundluckytypes,’saidRoboute,seeingLinyatakenoticeofEmil’sskills.‘Ithoughtweestablishedthatthereisnosuchthingasluck,’shesaid.‘Tellthattoasoldierandhe’lltellyouyou’rewrong,’saidRoboute,pushinghimselfoutofhisseat

withagruntofsatisfaction.‘Everyoneofthemwillhavetheirownluckytalisman,luckyritualorluckyprayer.Andyouknowwhat, if that’swhatkeeps themalive, thenwho’s tosay they’renotabsolutelyright?’

‘Confirmationbias,’ saidLinya, ‘but Iwill concede that thebattlefield is aplacewhere the sheernumberofrandomvariablesinachaoticenvironmentarefertilearenasfortheperceptionofluck.’

‘There’snotellingsomefolk,’hesaidastheservitorsopenedthegranddoorstotheanteroomandthedinnerguestsbegantofileout.

Linyashrugged.‘Idealinfacts,realityandthatwhichcanbeprovedtohaveabasisinfact.’‘Doesn’tthatrobyouofthebeautyofthings?Doesn’taplanetaryauroraloseitsmagicwhenyou

canreduceittolightandradiationpassingthroughthermoclinelayersofatmosphericpollution?Isn’tamagnificentsunsetjustthedailycycleinsteadofawondroussymphonyofcolourandpeace?’

‘Onthecontrary,’saidLinyaastheymadetheirwayfromthedinnertable. ‘It’spreciselybecauseIunderstandtheworkingsofsuchthingsthattheybecomemagical.Toseekmysteriesandrenderthemknown, that is the ultimate goal of the Adeptus Mechanicus. To me, that is magical. And I meanmagicalinapurelypoeticsense,beforeyougoattachingmeaningtothat.’

‘Iwouldn’tdare,’smiledRobouteastheyreachedthedoorsleadingtothestarboardesplanade.Abellchimed,andRobouterealisedwithastartthatfourhourshadpassedsincetheirarrival.

‘It’slaterthanIthought,’hesaid.‘ItispreciselythetimeIexpected,’saidLinya.‘MyinternalclockissynchronisedwiththeSperanza,

thoughithassomeunusualideasconcerningtherelativisticflowofsiderealtime.’Robouteshrugged.‘I’lltakeyourwordforit.’hesaid,watchingthewaythedimmedlightingplayed

onthesculptedsweepsofhercheekbones.He’d thoughtshewasattractivebefore,butnowshewasbeautiful.Howhadhenotnoticedthat?Roboutewasawareofthealcoholinhissystem,butthefilterinhisartificialliverwasalreadydissipatingtheworstofit.

‘Youareaverybeautifulwoman,LinyaTychon,didyouknowthat?’hesaidbeforeheevenknewwhathewasdoing.

Thesmilefellfromherface,andRobouteknewhe’dcrossedaline.‘I’msorry,’hesaid.‘Thatwasfoolishofme.Toomuchdammassine...’‘It isverykindofyou tosayso,CaptainSurcouf,but itwouldbeunwise foryou toharbourany

thoughtsofaromanticattachmenttome.Youlikeme,Icanalreadyseethat,butIcannotreciprocateanythingofthatnature.’

‘Howdoyouknowunlessyoutry?’saidRoboute,alreadyknowingitwashopeless,butneveronetogiveupuntilthelast.

‘Itwillbehardforyoutounderstand.’‘Icantry.’Shesighed.‘Theneuralpathwaysofmybrainhavebeenreshapedbysurgicalaugmetics,chemical

conditioning and cognitive remapping to such an extent that the processes takingplacewithinmymindscapedonotequatetoanythingyoumightrecogniseasaffectionorlove.’

‘Youloveyourfather,don’tyou?’Shehesitatedbeforeanswering.‘OnlyinthesensethatIamgratefultohimforgivingmelife,yes,

butitisnotloveasyouwouldrecogniseit.Mymindisincapableofreducingthecomplexasymmetryofmysynapseinteractiontosomethingso...’

‘Human?’‘Irrational,’saidLinya.‘Roboute,youareamanofvariedhistory,muchofwhichclearlyholdsgreat

appealtootherhumans.YouhavepersonalitymatricesthatIamsuremakeyouaninterestingperson,butnot tome. I cansee throughyouandstudyevery facetofyour life fromthecellular level to thehominid-architectureofyourbrain.Yourlifeislaidbaretomefrombirthtothismoment,andIcanprocesseveryangleof thatexistence inamicrosecond.Youdivertme,butnounaugmentedhumanhasenoughcomplexitytoeverholdmyattentionforlong.’

Roboutelistenedtoherspeakwithagrowingsensethathewaswadingintreacherouswaters.He’dmade themistake of assuming that just because LinyaTychon looked like awoman that shewas awomaninanysensethatheunderstood.Shewasasfarremovedfromhissphereofexistenceashewasfromadomesticatedhouse-pet.

Itwasasoberingrealisation,andhesaid,‘Thatmustbealonelyexistence.’‘Entirelytheopposite,’saidLinya.‘Isaythesethingsnottohurtyou,Roboute,onlytospareyouany

emotionalturmoilyoumightexperienceintryingandfailingtowinmyaffection.’Roboutehelduphishandsandsaid, ‘Fairenough,Iunderstand,affectionisn’tonthecards,but

friendship?Isthataconceptyoucan...process?Canwebefriends?’Shesmiled. ‘I’d likethat.Now,ifyouwillexcuseme,Ihavesomedatainloadsthatneedparsing

intotheirlogicalsyntacticcomponents.’‘ThenI’llsaygoodnight,’saidRoboute,holdingouthishand.Linyashookit,hergripfirmandsmooth.‘Goodnight,Roboute,’shesaid,turningandmakingherwaytowardsthemag-levrostrum.Emil and Adara appeared behind him, flushedwith rich food and plentiful dammassine. Adara

spunhisreturnedbladebackandforthbetweenhisfingers,whichseemedrecklessgiventheamounthe’dhadtodrink.

‘Whatwasthatallabout?’askedEmil.‘Nothing,asitturnsout,’saidRoboute.

Microcontent11

Theywandered through the outer spiral arm of the galactic fringe, like travellers in an enchantedforest,bewitchedbythebeautyallaroundthem.Theastrogationchamberwasalivewithlight.Sectormaps,ellipticalsystemdiagrams,andglitteringdustcloudsorbitedLinyaandherfatherlikeshoalsofimpossibly complex atomic structures. Each was a delicately wrought arrangement of stars andnebulae,andLinyareacheduptomagnifytheouteredgesofasystemontheirprojectedcourse.

‘Is that a discardedwaypoint?’ askedher father, hismultiple fingers drawing streamers of datafromtherotatingplanetslikeejectedmatterfromthesurfaceofasun.

‘Yes,’saidLinya.‘TheNecrissystem.’‘Ofcourse,asystem-worldoftheAdeptusAstartes.’‘Sotherumoursgo,’agreedLinya.‘TheMarinesExemplarChapteraresaidtohavetheirfortress-

monasteryinthissystem,butthathasneverbeenconfirmedwithahighenoughdegreeofaccuracyformetoaddanotation.’

‘The SpaceMarines do like their privacy,’ said her father, quicklymoving on through the visualrepresentationoftheNecrissystemasthoughtorespectthesecretiveChapter’swishes.

Linyanodded,sparingalastlookatthesystem’sisolatedplanetsastheyspunintheirsilentorbits.Somelookedlonely,farfromthelife-givingsun,coldandbluewithice;whileotherswhoseorbitshadcarriedthemtoofarfromthestar’sgravitationalpushandpulltoremaingeologicallyactivewerenomorethanbarrenochredeserts.

Thefleet’sfirstwaypointhadbeenreachedwhentheSperanzabrokefromthewarpontheedgeofthe Heracles subsector, its myriad surveyors gulping fresh datum information from the localenvironmentandfeeding it intotheircourseplot.TheNecrissystemhadbeenconsideredandthenrejectedasawaypoint,itsMandevillepointtoorestrictedinitsarcofcompliantonwardwarproutes.

AnditdidnothavethepleasingsymmetryoftakingthefleetthroughValette.Thechamberinwhichtheystoodwasadomeofpolishedironahundredmetreswide,machined

from a single vast ingot on OlympusMons and lined with slender pilasters of gold like the flyingbuttressessupportingagreat templum.Awooden-framedconsolewithaseriesofhaptickeyboardsand manual rotation levers stood at the centre of the dome’s acid-etched floor image of the Icon

Mechanicus.Ahostofcodewafers juttedfromtheconsole’sbatteredkeypad,eachaportionofdataextractedfromtheSperanza’sastrogationlogisters.

Entopticmachines held fast to exacting tolerances by a precisemodulation of suspensor fieldsprojectedlightintotheairinsuchvolumethatitwaslikewalkingthroughanaquariumandhothousecombined.Celestialbodiesslippedpast likestoicfeederfish,cometslikedartinginsectsandghostlycloudsofgasanddust likedrifting jellyfish.TheSperanza’s coursewasmarked inashimmeringredline,thoughonlytherealspaceportionsofthejourneyweremarked.TomapthechurningdepthsofthewarpwasajobbestlefttotheNavigators,ifsuchathingwereevenpossible.

‘Your course plot was commendably accurate, my dear,’ said her father, watching as yet moreinformationstreamed intoherongoingequations. ‘Iamnohexamath,but I thinkthearchmagos ispleased.’

Linya felthispride in thewarmemanations fromhis floodstreamandsentawordless responsethatacknowledgedhissatisfaction.

‘Thecoursehasprovedaccuratetowithinonelightminute,’shesaid. ‘Thenewcelestialdatawillonlyimprovethatasthejourneycontinues.’

‘AtleastuntilwedropoutofthewarpattheHaloScar,’herfatherremindedher.‘Iknow,butwhenwereachValette,we’llhaveabetter...estimateofwhatwemightexpecttosee.’‘Youweregoingtosay“guess”,weren’tyou?’‘Iconsideredit,butdecidedthatwouldimplytoogreatamarginofuncertainty.’‘Wherewearegoingisshroudedinuncertainty,daughterdearest,’saidVitali.‘Thereisnoshame

inignorance,onlyindenyingit.Byknowingwhatwedonotknow,wecantakestepstoremedyourlackofknowledge.’

VitaliTychonmovedthroughtheshoalsofstellarinformationwiththeeaseofamanwhohadlivedhis life in the study of the heavens. His armsmoved like a virtuoso conductor, sifting the flow ofinformationwithfamiliarityandpaternalsatisfaction,asthougheachstarandsystemwerehisown.Hemadeacircuitalongthecircumferenceofthechamber;movingthroughregionsofspacewherethelightofstarswasspreadout,littlemorethanrelativisticsmears,tothesystemsclosertothegalacticcore.

He approached the chamber’s representation of theHalo Scar as it rippled and flickered out offocus,asthoughtheprojectorswerehavingdifficultyininterpretingthemutantdatatheywerebeingfed.Themachinesfizzedandspatcoilsofhissingcodeintotheair,angryatbeingforcedtovisualisesodisfigureda regionof space.Bleedsof redandpurplebruising, striatedwith leprous yellowandgreen, spread like an infection along the edge of the galaxy, a swathe of starfields that made noempiricalsense.Theprojectedinformationflickeredandfadedforamoment,beforerefreshingwithabuzzofcircuitryandthepersistenthumofagitatedmachinery.

‘Thespiritsarerestlesstoday,’saidLinya.‘Wouldn’tyoube?’ saidVitali, reachingout to touch thewallandsendasoothingbinaricprayer

intothewiredheartofthemachinery.‘Themappingspiritsofthechamberarevexedbytheinconstantstreamsofinformationbeingrelayedtothem.Travellingthroughthewarpallowsfornosatisfactionof their cartographic urges, and like any of us denied our purpose, they do not take kindly to

disruptionoftheirroutines.’‘Theyrecogniseafamiliarsoulinyou,’saidLinya,astheimagesofdistantsectorsandshimmering

starsgrewbrighterandclearer.Themachines’irritatedfizzingdiminished.‘Ihaveanaffinitywithspiritsthatseekthesightsoffar-offshores,’saidVitaliwithoutanyhintof

modesty.‘Asdoyou.’Linyaknewshelackedherfather’stouch,butappreciatedthesentimentnonetheless.‘Suchashame,’saidVitaliashereturnedhisgazetotheleeringgashoftheHaloScar.‘Onceitwas

a celestial nursery of youthful and adolescent stars.Now it is littlemore than a graveyard of spentmatter,dyingcorescompressingtosingularitiesandaberrantdatathatmakesaslittlesensehereasitdidatQuatria.’

‘Even the astronomical data the Speranza inloaded at the last waypoint did little to codify ourunderstandingofwhatitis,’observedLinya.

‘Understandable,’saidVitali,pullingacascadeofdatafromtheair.‘Thegravityfluxionscausedbythe interactions of so many hyper-aged stars make a mockery of our instrumentation. If thesereadingsaretobebelieved,thenthereareforcesatplaywithintheHaloScarthatcouldtearthisshipapartinaheartbeat.’

‘IamoptimisticthattheValettewaypointwillprovideaclearerfixonthesecorpse-starsandthevolatilespacesbetweenthem.Perhapswemightevenbeabletoplotacoursethroughthegravitationalmire.’

HerfatherturnedfromtheHaloScarandsaid,‘Whatgivesyoucauseforsuchoptimism?’Linyahesitatedbeforeanswering,thoughshesuspectedherfatheralreadyknewwhatheranswer

wouldbe.‘TheValetteManifoldstationwasthelastknownpointofcontactwiththelostfleetofMagosTelok.ItisnotunreasonabletopresumethereisareasonthissystemwasabletoreceiveaManifoldtransmissionfromTelok’sfleet.Perhapsit lies inacorridorwherethegravitationalfieldsannuloneanother.IcannotacceptitwasanaccidentthatValetteliespreciselyonouroptimalroutetotheHaloScar.IbelievethewilloftheOmnissiahhasbroughtushere,father.’

‘Have you considered that youmay be asmuch a victim of confirmation bias as thosewithoutaugmentation?’

‘Yes,butIhavedismissedthepossibility.ThechancesofValettelyingonourprojectedflightpathfrom Joura is infinitesimal given the sheer volume of potential routes, elliptical irregularities in itsorbitandthesystem’saxiomaticvolatility.’

‘Iagree,’saidVitali.‘AndImustsaythatIamratherlookingforwardtoinloadingthedatastreamsfromaMechanicusManifoldstationthisclosetotheScar.Whoknowswhatinformationtheymighthaveaccumulatedinthelastfewhundredyears?’

Ashiverofdata-lightpassedalongtheconduitsofthefloorasarotatingcog-dooropenedonthewall behind Linya; bright veils of biographical information, operational status and currentinload/exloaddataburdenrosefromthefloor.

TarkisBlaylocksweptintotheastrogationdome,andhisinloadburdenimmediatelyspikedashedrankintheliquiddatathatsurroundedhim.Hedirectedtheappropriatecodeblurtsofgreetingtoboth Linya and her father. Perfunctory, but she expected no less. Though themores andmodes of

addresswereutterlyremovedfromunaugmentedindividuals,manyofthesamecuesexisted–albeiton a binary level – to convey the subtlest hints of reproach, approbation or, in this case, carefullymaskeddisdain.

‘MagosBlaylock,’saidVitali,employingarusticformofbinaricprotocolsthathadfallenoutofusewiththerediscoveryofhigh-functionlingua-technisnearlyfivethousandyearsago.‘Apleasuretoseeyou,asalways.Whatbringsyoutotheastrogationdome?’

‘Amatterthatwouldbebestdiscussedinprivate,’saidBlaylock,pointedlyignoringLinya.‘Whatever you would say to me in private, I will only later relay to my daughter,’ said Vitali,

scrollingthroughthesystemdataoftheKetheriasystem.‘Therefore,intheinterestsofbrevityandthebetteremploymentofourtime,Isuggestyousimplysaywhatitisyouhavecometosay.’

‘Verywell,’saidBlaylock,movingdeeperintothechamberandturninghisgreen-huedopticstoitsuppersegmentae,wherethemysteriousreachesoffar-offgalaxiesspunlikemistyspiderwebs.‘Ihavecometoseekyoursupport.’

‘Supportforwhat?’askedVitali.‘SupportformyclaimsuponArchmagosKotov’sMartianforgeswhentheyareredistributed.’‘Isn’tthatalittlepremature?’askedLinya.‘Wehaven’tevenreachedtheedgeofthegalaxyandyou

speaklikethisexpeditionhasalreadyfailed.’‘Theexpeditionwasalwaysstatisticallyunlikelytosucceed,’saidBlaylock,turningafullcircleand

scanningthecontentsofthepellucidstarsystems.‘Nothinghaschanged.ThemostlikelyoutcomeofthisvoyageisthattheHaloScarwillprovetobeimpenetrableandArchmagosKotovwillbeforcedtoreturntoMarsinfailure.’

‘Ifyouweresosurethisexpeditionwouldfailwhydidyoucome?’‘The Fabricator General himself seconded me to Archmagos Kotov,’ said Blaylock, his lingua-

technis making sure they understood the full weight of the authority vested in him. ‘To lose soimportant a vessel as the Speranza on a fool’s errand into a region of cursed space would beunforgivable. I am to see that this vessel is not needlessly sacrificed on the altar of one man’sdesperationtoregainhisformerglory.’

‘Howverynobleofyou,’saidLinya,notevenbotheringtomaskhercontempt.‘Indeed,’repliedBlaylock,ignoringherjibe.‘AndwhenKotovreturnswithhistailbetweenhislegs,therewillbeafeedingfrenzytoclaimhis

lastremainingholdings,’saidVitali.‘Youthinktheyshouldgotoyou?’‘IamthemostsuitedtotakecontrolofhisTharsisforges,’agreedBlaylock.‘Asuspiciousmanmightsayyouhaveavestedinterestintheexpeditionfailing,’saidVitali.‘Ahumanassumption,butafallaciousone.IwillfullysupportArch-magosKotovuntilsuchtimeas

I believe that the chance of irredeemable damage to the Speranza outweighs the possibility of anyusefulrecoveryofknowledge.Sincethelatteristhemostlikelyoutcome,itislogicalformeseekthesupport of senior magi prior to our return to Mars. You are aware of my high standing in thePriesthood, and I should not forget such support when the time comes to consider requisitionrequests.ThereisagreatdealoftechnologyonMarsthatIcouldseeallocatedtoQuatriatomakeittheforemostcartographaegalleryintheImperium.’

‘Firstyouattempttovetomyfather’sappointmenttothisexpeditionandnowyoutrytobuyhimoffwithtransparentbribes?’saidLinya,resortingtoherfleshvoicetotrulydiscomfitBlaylock.

‘I voted against his inclusion because I believe there are better qualifiedmagos that could haveprovidedcartographaesupport.’

‘Noneofwhomhavetravelledthiswaybefore,’snappedLinya.‘Myfather’spresenceheregivestheexpeditionafarbetterchanceofsuccess,andthatisn’tinyourscavenger’sinterests,isit?’

‘YoupresumeIamworking to fixednotionsandhumanmodesofbehaviour,’ retortedBlaylock,matchingherwithhisownaugmentedvoice. ‘As the situationchanges, so toodoesmybehaviouralmap;afterall, Iamnotanautomaton.Thefailureof thisexpedition isavirtualstatisticalcertainty,anditwouldbefoolishofmenottomakecontingencies.’

‘Andwhatiftheexpeditiondoesn’tfail?’‘ThentheQuestforKnowledgewillhavebeenfurtheredandasacreddutytotheOmnissiahwill

havebeenserved,’saidBlaylock.‘Eitherway,IshallbecontenttoservethewillofMars.’‘Ithinkyouarelying,’saidLinya.‘MistressTychon,ifyouinsistonprojectinghumanbehaviouralpatternsthatdonotapplytomy

modesofthinkingontomymotivationsthenwewillcontinueinthispointlessloopforsometime.’‘Perhapsyourcalculationsareinerror,’saidLinya.Blaylock spread his arms wide and a wealth of daedal statistical algorithms burst into the

noosphericairlikeaflockofavianraptors.Almosttoograndinscopetoevaluate,Blaylock’scomplexlatticesofequationswerebeautifulconstructionsofimpeccablelogic.EvenacursoryinloadtoldLinyatherewouldbenoerrors.

TheoddsofKotov’sexpeditionsucceedingweresosmallastobenegligible.Thoughsheknewitwasdepressinglyhuman,Linyasaid, ‘ThewaypointdataatValettewillalter

yourcalculations.’‘Youarecorrect,’agreedBlaylock.‘Butnotenoughtomakeasignificantdifference.’‘Wewillseesoonenough,’saidVitali,drawingoutthetranslucentorreryoftheValettesystemand

highlightingtheMechanicusManifoldstation.‘Wetranslatebackintorealspaceintenhours.’

To see so many arms of the Imperium’s martial strength working together in fluid harmony waspleasingtoMagosDahan.ColonelAnders’sImperialGuardfoughtthroughavastrecreationofashell-ruinedcity, everygrid-block lacedwitha fiendishwebof integraldefences, carefullyplottedarcsoffire, triangulated kill-zones and numerous open junctions to cross. It was an attacker’s worstnightmare,butsofartheCadianwar-methodologywasprovingeffective.

Ofcourse,itdidn’thurtthattheyfoughtalongsideafullrepertoireofAdeptusMechanicuskillingmachines.Quadrupedalpraetoriansoffleshandsteelstalkedthroughareastoodangerousforhumansoldiers, implanted cannons and energyweapons firingwithwhooping bangs and cracklingwhip-cracksofbeamdischarge.Packsofweaponisedservitorsscaledthesidesofbuildingswithimplantedgrappling equipment to rain down death from abovewith shoulder-mounted rotary launchers andgrenade dumpers. Squads of Dahan’s skitarii spearheaded assaults into occupied structures,

supported by Cadian Hellhounds that flushed enemy servitor-drones into the open with gouts ofblazing promethium. Sentinels smashed down weakened walls to flank enemy units and provideforwardreconnaissancedataforthefollowinginfantry,whointurnmarchedalongsideLemanRussbattletanks,ChimerasandgrowlingBasilisks.

Of course there were casualties, a great many casualties, but so far no company or clan hadsuffered enough to render it combat-ineffective. The number of registered deaths was well withinacceptableparametersandwouldnotaffecttheoveralloutcomeoftheconflict.

Andlordingoverthebattlewerethegodsofwarthemselves.The battle-engines of Legio Sirius strode through the smoking ruins, underlit by the flames of

battle,strobing lasdischargeandthebrightplumesof infernocannonfire.Legiostandardsandkillbannershungfromtheirwaistgimbalsandbillowedlikesailsatoptheirgrey,goldandbluecarapaces.Hotthermalsshriekedinthevorticesoftorturedairthatsurroundedthem.

LupaCapitalina toweredover all, its vast gunspouringdestructive energies into themass of theruinedcity.Despiteitswarheadslackingexplosiveordnance,thekineticforceofsuchmunitionswaswreakinghavoconDahan’ssimulatedcity.WhileAmarokdartedfromruinedshellsofhab-blocks topounceonenemytargetsofopportunitybeforevanishingintotheflame-castshadows,Vilkathreadeditswaythroughthecityandhiduntilitslargerbrethrenapproached.AsCanisUlfricaorLupaCapitalinadrewnear anddefending forces rallied tomeet them,Vilkawould strike fromambush then retreatbeforeanyreprisalcouldbelaunchedagainstit.

Dahan ground through the smashed training arena atop his Iron Fist,meshedwith its controlmechanismsanddirecting the armoured vehiclewithpulses from theMIUcables trailing from thenape of his neck. Though live rounds smacked off stonework and reflected splinters of lasgun firefizzedthroughtheair,hewas innodanger. Inbuilt refractorgeneratorsonthevehicle’shullmeanttherewasn’t somuchasa scratchon the IronFist’spaintwork.EverywhereDahan looked, Imperialforceswereadvancingwithrelentlessmathematicalprecision,anorchestrationofdeathofwhichhewasthecomposer.

Fireandmanoeuvre,buildingbybuilding,hiscityofdeathwasprovingineffectiveinhaltingtheImperial advance.Whereoneattackingelementwasweak, anotherwas strong.Thehammerof theGuardandthepreciseappliedforceoftheAdeptusMechanicuswasworkingwelltogether.

Onlyoneelementwasmissingfromthefight,butDahanexpectedthemsoonenough.Asobjectiveafterobjectivefell,thetacticalviabilityofthecitywasdegradedtosuchanextentthat

Dahansawtherewouldbelittlepointinitscontinuance.Hecalledahalttotheexercisewithapulseofthought,andbanksofarc-lightsclatteredtolifeontheroofofthevasttrainingdeck.GiantextractorsdrewinbreathsofsmokeandparticulatemattertobeejectedintotheSperanza’swake. Inmomentsthevastspacewasclearof fumes,andtheechoesofbattlebegantofade.DahandrovetheIronFistthrough a junction cloggedwith rubble and toppled facsimiles of Imperial saints. A number of hisservitor drones lay sprawled beneath the debris, their bodies mangled and charred black by theweapons of the Cadians. The servitors’ organicmatter would be burned away and themechanicalcomponents recovered before being reconsecrated and grafted to another flesh drone. Dahan’solfactory senses tasted the refined mix of promethium; detecting extra compounds of fossilised

hydrocarbonsandararifiedcelluloseelementthatborechemicalhallmarksofnorthernCadianpine.A squad of Cadians approached his tank, and he recognised the regiment’s colonel. Theman’s

respiratoryratewashighlyelevated,significantlymoresothanthoseofhissoldiers.‘ColonelAnders,’saidDahanwithacurtnodofrespect.‘Onceagain,yourmenperformedbeyond

expectations.’‘Your expectations, maybe. They matched mine exactly,’ said Anders, removing his helmet and

runningadampclothoverhisforehead.‘So,tellme,howdidwedo?’‘Admirably,’ saidDahan,descendingfromthe tank’scupola. ‘Everyobjective in thecityhasbeen

captured,withminimallosses.’‘Describeminimal.’‘Averagecompanyfatalityrateswereeighteenpointsevenfivepercent,withadebilitatingwound

percentageofthirteenpointsix.Iamroundingup,ofcourse.’‘Ofcourse,’saidAnders.‘Thatsoundsaboutrightforacitythissize,maybeslightlyunder.’Thecolonelplantedabootedfootontheblackenedbodyofadownedservitor,rolling itonto its

back. The cybernetic’s handswere pulled tight in burn-fused claws, its jaws stretchedwide.Anderswinced.

‘Dotheyfeelpain,doyouthink?’heasked.Dahanshookhishead.‘No,theparieto-insularcortexthatprocessespainthroughtheneuromatrix

isoneofmanysegmentsofthebraincauterisedduringtheservitudetransmogrificationprocess.’‘Makesthembastardstofight,’saidAnders.‘Anenemythatfearspainisalreadyhalfwaytobeaten.’‘AndCadiansdon’tfeelpain?’askedDahan,addingarhetoricalblurtoflingua-technis.‘We live with pain every day,’ said Anders. ‘What other way is there to live with the Great Eye

overhead?’‘Ihavenoframeofreferencewithwhichtoanswerthat.’‘No,Iexpectnot,’saidAnders,turningbacktoDahan.‘So,eighteenpointsevenfivepercent?We’ll

seeifwecan’tgetitdowntofifteenbythetimewereachtheScar.’Dahan gestured to the augmented warriors in black armour forming up in regimented ranks

beyondtheedgesofthecapturedcity.‘TheAdeptusMechanicusskitariiwereafactorinloweringthataverage,aswasthepresenceofLegioSirius.’

Anders laughed. ‘True enough, you can’t beat having a Titan Legion at your back to help keepenemyheadsdown.Thoseskitariiaresometoughsonsofgroxes.I’llbegladtohavethematmysideifweenduphavingtofightwhenwegettowherewe’regoing.’

‘Fightingwill,Ifear,proveinevitable,’saidMagosDahan.‘Whateversecretsliebeyondthegalaxywillnotbesurrenderedwillinglybythosewhopossessthem.’

‘Morethanlikely,’agreedAnders,removingacanvas-linedcanteenfromhiswebbingandtakingalongdrink.Whenhehadsatedhisthirstheemptiedthecanteenoverhishead,takingdeepbreathstolowerhisheartrate.

‘ItiscommendablethatyoufightalongsideyourGuardsmen,’saidDahan.‘Illogical,butbrave.’‘NoCadianofficerwouldcommandanyotherway,’saidAnders.‘Notifhewantstokeephisrank.

It’salwaysbeenthatway,alwayswillbe.’

‘Icalculatethatyouareatleastfifteenyearsolderthanyoursoldiers,’saidDahan.‘So?’saidAnders,anoteofwarninginhistone.‘Youare inexcellentphysicalcondition foramanofyourage,but therisk to thecommandand

controlfunctionsofyourregimentfaroutweighsthebenefitstothemen’smoraleatbeingabletoseetheircommandingofficer.’

‘Thenyoudon’tknowmuchaboutCadians,’saidAnders,shoulderinghisrifle.‘Sopeoplekeepremindingme,thoughsuchanobservationisfundamentallyincorrect.’‘Listen,’ saidAnders, stepping onto the running boards of the Iron Fist. ‘Have you ever been to

Cadia,MagosDahan?AreyouCadian?’‘No,tobothquestions.’‘ThennomatterhowmuchyouthinkyouknowaboutCadians,youdon’tknowshit,’saidAnders.

‘TheonlywaytoreallyknowaCadianistofighthim,andIdon’tthinkyouwantthat.’Though the colonelhadnot raisedhis voice andhisbody languagewasnot overtly threatening,

Dahan’sthreatresponsesentajoltofadrenal-boostersintohisfloodstream.Hefelthisweaponarmsflex, power saturating his energy blades and internal cavity ammo stores shucking shells intobreeches.Hequelledtheresponsewithathought,shockedathowquicklyVenAndershadswitchedfromaffabilitytoawar-stance.

‘Youarecorrect,ColonelAnders,’saidDahan.‘Idonotwantthat.’‘Notmanydo,butIthinkyou’reabouttogettoknowsomeoneelsebetterthanyoumightlike.’‘Colonel?’AndersnoddedtosomethingoverDahan’sshoulderandsaid,‘Yourfaithinyourmethodsisabout

tobetestedprettyhard.’DahanswivelledaroundhiscentralaxisandhisthreatsystemskickedinagainashesawKulGilad

leadinghisbattlesquadofTemplarstowardshim.ThegiantReclusiarchcame toahaltbeforeDahan,a toweringslabof ceramiteandsteelwitha

faceofdeath.‘Wearehereforthebout,’saidKulGilad.

Wordoftheduelspreadquicklythroughthetrainingdeck,andsoonhundredsofsoldiers,skitariiandclean-upcrewshadformedagiantcirclearoundMagosDahanandtheBlackTemplars.Servitorswerehaltedintheirdutiesandliftedsoldiershighenoughtosee,andrubblewashastilystackedtoprovideabetterview.Soldiersstoodontanks,onSentinelsorwherevertheycouldfindavantagepointtoseethisonceinalifetimefight.

Captain Hawkins pushed through the press of bodies, using Lieutenant Rae and his rank as abatteringramtomoveentrenchedsoldiersaside. Itdidn’t take long to reach the frontof thecircle,wherehesawMagosDahanfacingthetoweringmightofKulGilad.

‘Surelyhe’snotgoingtotakeonthebigfella?’saidRae.‘He’sabloodytank.’Hawkinsshookhishead. ‘Idoubtit.Wouldn’tbemuchofafight,andI’llloseaweek’spayifhe’s

beaten.’

‘Emperorloveyou,sir,butyoudidn’tputmoneydownonthemagostowin?’‘Yeah,Ithinkhe’sgotatrickortwouphissleeve.’‘But...buttheseareSpaceMarines,’saidRae,asthoughthefollyofHawkins’sbetshouldbeself-

evident‘AndDahan’saSecutor.Don’tunderestimatehowdangerousthatmakeshim.’‘Fairenough,sir,’saidRae.‘ButbettingagainstaSpaceMarineseems,well,justalittlebit...’‘Alittlebitwhat?’‘Rebellious?’suggestedRaeafterawhile.‘Ipromisenottellthecommissarsifyoudon’t.’Raeshrugged,andturnedhisattentionbacktotheparticipantsinthebout.Allaroundhim,men

andwomenweremakingbetsontheoutcomeof the fight,buthe ignoredtheirshoutsofoddsandamounts,concentratingonwhattheduellistsweredoing.TheBlackTemplarsstoodunmovingbehindKul Gilad, and it was impossible to take their measure. Their markings made them all butindistinguishable,thoughoneworearmourofconsiderablygreaterornamentation,asthoughhewerethemostgloriousembodimentof theirChapter.Hishelmetborean ivory laurel,andahugesword,over ametre in length, was sheathed across his shoulders.Where the rest of his brethren carriedenormousboltguns,hecarriedasinglepistol,gold-chasedandwellworn.

‘It’llbehim,’saidHawkins.‘Markmywords.’Rae nodded in agreement asMagosDahan swept back his robes, revealing amuscular body of

plastic-huedfleshwithgleamingsteelribsvisibleathischest.Inadditiontohisregularpairofarms–whichHawkinsnowsawwerelacedwithgleamingmetalimplants,augmeticenergybladesandwhatlookedlikedigitalweapons–asecondpairofarmsunfoldedfromapositiononDahan’sback.Thesearmswereeachtippedwithaforkedweaponthatsparkedto lifeascracklingpurple lightningarcedbetween the bladed tines. Dahan’s body rotated freely at the waist, allowing him a full circuit ofmovement,andhisthreelegswerereversejointed,endinginsplayeddewclawsthatunsheathedwithasharpsnik.

‘StillthinkI’montoalosingbet?’askedHawkinsasDahanliftedhislongpolearmfromthetopsideofhistank.Theserratedbladerevvedwithaharshburrandtheclawedenergypodatitsbasecrackledwithkineticforce.

‘Trustme,you’llbegladyoudidn’tbetamonth’spay,’repliedRae.Dahanlaunchedintoaseriesofcombatexercises,rotatingthelongbladearoundhisbodywithhis

upperarms inan intricatepatternofkillingmoves.His legswereweapons too.While twoborehisweight,thethirdwouldlashoutinadisembowellingstroke.

KulGiladnoddedatthesightofMagosDahan’spreparatorymoves,andcircledaroundthelethalenvelopeoftheSecutor’sreach.

‘Whodoyouthink,Tanna?Whowillbestthisopponent?’askedKulGilad,andthebeardedwarriorwhohadattendedColonelAnders’sdinnersteppedfromthestatue-stillranksoftheSpaceMarines.

‘ItshouldbeVarda,hebearsthehonourofusall,’saidTanna.The warrior with the great sword stepped from the ranks of the Templars, and the enormous

curvedpauldronsofhisarmourshiftedasheloosenedthemusclesathisshoulders.

‘See,toldyouit’dbehim,’saidHawkins.KulGiladheldupahandandshookhishead.‘No,theEmperor’sChampiondoesnotfightunless

thereisdeathtobedone.Hisbladekills inthenameoftheMasterofMankind,notforspectacleorvainglory.Tomakeourpointitmustbetheleastofuswhocarriesourhonour.Stepforwards,Yael.’

Thesergeantstruggledtohidehisastonishment.‘YaelisonlyrecentlymadeafullTemplar,hehasyettoshedbloodwithhisbrothersintheFightingCompany.’

‘Thatiswhyitmustbehim,SergeantTanna,’saidKulGilad.‘TheHighMarshalhimselfmarksthisoneforgreatness.Doyoudoubthiswisdom?’

The sergeant knew better than to argue with a superior officer when so many others werewatching,andsaid,‘No,Reclusiarch.’

TannasteppedbackintorankalongwiththeEmperor’sChampionasaslighterfiguremarchedtostand alongside Kul Gilad. He wore a helmet so it was impossible to guess his age, yet he carriedhimself proudly, a young buck out to make his name. Hawkins had seen the same thing in theregiment, young officers straight out of the training camps outsideKasrHoln eager to prove theirworthbygettingintothenastiestfightsassoonastheycould.

Somegotthemselveskilled.Theoneswhodidn’tdielearnedfromtheexperience.BothoutcomeshelpedtokeeptheCadianregimentsstrong.KulGiladstoodbeforeYaelandplacedhisheavygauntletsonhisshoulders.Unheardwordspassed

betweenthemandthewarriorknightnoddedashedrewasharp-toothedchainswordandhiscombatknife.

KulGiladstoodbetweenDahanandYael.‘Letthisbeanhonourableduel,foughtwithheartandcourage.’‘Towhatendwillwefight?’askedDahan.‘Firstblood?’‘No,’saidKulGilad.‘Afightisnotdonejustbecausesomeonebleeds.’‘Thenwhat?Tothedeath?’TheReclusiarchshookhishead.‘Untilonefightercanmakeakillingblow.Takethestrike,butdo

notletitland.’‘Ihavemuscleinhibitorsandmicroscopictolerancesinmyopticsthatwillenablesuchafeat.Can

yourwarriorsaythesame?’‘Afraidyoumightgethurt?’saidYael,andthoughhisvoicewasmodifiedbythevox-grille,Hawkins

couldhearhisyouth.‘Notevenalittlebit,’saidDahan,droppingintoafightingpositionandliftinghismultiplearms.KulGiladsteppedback.‘Begin!’

Dahandidnotattackatonce,butcircledhisopponentcarefully,usinghisopticalthreatanalyserstoaccumulatedataonthisopponent;hisreach,height,hisweight,hislikelystrength,hisfootpatterns,his posture. He had expected to fight the bigger warrior with the laurel-wreathed helm, but if theReclusiarchthoughttoconfoundhiscombatsubroutinesbypresentinghimwithanunexpectedfoe,itwasapoorgambit.

HekepthisCebrenianhalberdslightlyextended,oneofhisservoarmsaboveit,theotherbelow.Cracklingsparksofelectricitypoppedfromtheforks,eachshock-blade’schargestrongenoughtostopthemultipleheartsofa ragingcarnifex.Heeasedaroundonhiswaistgimbal, lettinghisdewclawsclickonthedeck inaslowtattoo. Just thesightofhiscombat-enabledbodywasenoughtounnervemostopponents,butthiswarriorappearedunfazed.

Hedecidedtotest themettleofhisopponentwithsomethingeasy,a feinttogaugehisreactionspeedandreflexresponse.TheCebrenianhalberdslashedatYael’shead,buttheTemplarswayedasideand batted away the killing edge, spinning around and resuming his circling. He was employingBonetti’sdefence,atriedandtestedtechnique,butonethatwouldstruggleagainstanopponentwithfourarms.

CapaFerrowouldbethelogicalmodeofattackagainstsuchadefence,butfromthemotionprofilehe had already built up, Dahan suspected his opponent was luring him into such an attack. HisfootworkwasthatofthegreatswordsmanofChemos,Agrippa,buthisgripwasThibault.

Amixofstyles,then.Dahansmiledasherealisedhisopponentwastakingthemeasureofhimalso.Hegavethewarrior

amoment’s grace, letting him truly appreciate the futility of attempting to fight an opponentwhocould predict his every move, who had broken down more than a million combat bouts to theircomponentpartsandanalysedeveryoneuntiltherewasnocombinationofattacksthatcouldsurprisehim.

The Guardsmen and skitarii surrounding them cheered and shouted encouragement to theirchosenfighter,butDahanshuntedhisauralsensestoahigherfrequencytoblockthemout.Vocalisednoisewasreplacedbyhissingmachinenoise,codeblurtsandthedeep,glacialhumoftheSperanza’svastmindemanatingfromtheheartoftheship.

Yaellaunchedhisfirstattack,alowcutwithhiscombatblade,whichDahaneasilyparriedwiththebase of his halberd.He rolled hiswrists, pivoting on hiswaist gimbal to avoid the real strike fromYael’schainsword.DahanbroughtonemetalkneeintotheTemplar’sstomach,drivinghimbackwithacrackofceramite.Hefollowedupwithajabfromhisshock-claws.ThebladesscoredacrossYael’sarm,cuttingacentimetreintotheplate.Apulseofthoughtsenthundredsofvoltsthroughtheblade,buttheTemplardidn’treactandsteppedinclosetodrivehisswordbladeatDahan’schest.

Thesecondshock-clawblockedit,andhespunthebaseofhishalberdupintoYael’sside.Aburstofangrycodeblaredinhisearasthehalberd’sentropiccapacitorsentdisruptivejoltsofparalysingcodeintotheTemplar’sarmour.Yaelstaggeredashisarmour’ssystemsflinchedattheunexpectedattack,strugglingtokeepfromshuttingdownandresetting.DahanleanedbackononelegandbroughthistwofrontlegsuptoslamintotheTemplar’schest,knockinghimbackwithpunishingforce.Yaelhitthedeckhardandrolled,sparksflaringfromhispowerpack.

Dahanfollowedupwithaleapingattackthatdrovethegoldbladeofthehalberddownatthedeck.Yael rolledaside,pushinghimselfuprightwithaburstof strengthandspeed thatsurprisedDahan.ClearlythebellicosespiritsinYael’sarmourwerebetterabletoresistattackthanmostmachinesouls.

Yaelslashedhisswordlow,butDahanliftedhislegoverthesweepingblade.Hishalberdstabbeddownagain,thebladeturnedasidebyaforearmsmash.YaelspuninsideDahan’sguardanddrovehis

combatbladeuptohischest.Twinshock-bladestrappeditahair’sbreadthbeforeitplungedintohishardenedskin.Dahansentaburstofcracklingforcethroughthebladesandtheknifeblewapartinashowerofwhite-hotshardsofmetal.

DahanslammedthehaftofthehalberdintoYael’schin, leaningoveralmostatninetydegreestohisverticalaxistopunchhisshock-bladesintohisopponent’sside.Yaeldroppedtoonekneewitharoarofpainascoruscating linesofpurple lightningdancedoverhisarmour.Evenashefell,Dahanwasinmotion,circlingbehindthefallenTemplaranddrawingbackhishalberdforwhatwouldbeabeheadingstrike.

Hebracedhislegsandbroughtthebladearound,butevenashedidsohefeltthesuddenpressureofYael’sswordagainsthisgroinassembly.Shocked,Dahanlookeddown.TheTemplarstillknelt,asthoughatprayer,butthebladeofhisswordwasthrustbackbetweenhistorsoandhisleftarm.Thetipof the blade was touching Dahan’s body, its madly revving teeth now stilled. Instantaneouscalculations showed that the bladewouldpenetrate a lethal twenty-five centimetres beforehis ownbladecouldendYael’slife.

‘Akillingstrike,’saidKulGilad.‘Idonotunderstand,’saidDahan,returninghisshock-bladearmstotherestpositionathisback

andpullinghishalberdupright. ‘This is inconceivable. ThepermutationsofTemplarYael’s fightingpatterns,attackprofilesandphysicalattributesdidnotpredictthisoutcome.’

Yael stood and turned to face themagos.He sheathedhis sword and reachedup to removehishelmet. The revealed face was bland, its sharp edges smoothed out by genetic manipulation andenhancedbonedensity.IsotopedegradationfromhisskeletalstructuretoldDahanthatYaelwasnomorethantwenty-fourTerranyearsold.

‘Youfoughttotheclassicalschools,’saidDahan.‘Agrippa,Thibault,Calgar...’‘Ihavetrainedinthem,studiedthem,butIdonotslavishlyfollowthem,’saidYael.‘Whynot?Eachismasterfultechnique.’‘Afightisaboutmorethanjusttechniqueandskill,’saidYael.‘Itisaboutheartandcourage.About

awillingnesstosufferpain,arealisationthateventhegreatestwarriorcanstillbehumbledbyatwistoffate,apatchoflooseground,amoteofdustintheeye...’

‘I account for randomfactors inmycalculations,’ saidDahan, stillunwilling toconcede thathiscombatsubroutinescouldbeinerror.‘Myresultsarecertain.’

‘Therein lies your error,’ saidKulGilad. ‘There isno such thingas certainty ina fight.Evenourgreatestbladesmancouldbe felledbya lesseropponent.Tobea trulysublimewarrior,amanmustrealisethatdefeatisalwayspossible.Onlywhenyourecognisethatcanyoutrulyfightwithheart.’

‘Withheart?’saidDahanwithagrin.‘Howmightthatbeintegratedtomyrepertoire,Iwonder?’‘Trainwithusandyouwilllearn,’saidKulGilad.Dahannodded,butbeforehecouldreply,acolossal,brayinghowlfilledthetraininghangar.The

soundechoedovertheshatteredcityDahanhadconstructed,filledwithanger,withnightmaresandwithmadness.Thehowlwasansweredandatoweringstructureofmodularsteelandpermacreteintheheartof the city camecrashingdown inanavalancheofdebris.Dahan’soptics cut through thehazeofflame,dustandsmoke,butwhathesawmadenosense.

TheTitansofLegioSiriusweremakingwarononeanother.

Microcontent12

Wrackingthudsofimpactcrackedtheglassoftheprincepstank,andhowlsofangrycodeblurtsfilledthe commandcompartmentofLupaCapitalina. Pulsing icons flashed andwarbled insistently as theTitan made itself ready for the fight of its life. Bellowing armaments clamoured for shells, voidgeneratorsthrobbedwithaccumulatingpowerandthemindlessquestioningofdistantgunservitorscloggedtheinternalvox.

AndatthecentreofitallwasPrincepsArloLuth.Theamniotictankwasfrothedwithhisconvulsions,themilkygreyliquidstreakedwithbloodlike

patterns in polishedmarble. His limbless, truncated body twisted like a fish caught on a lure thatfought for freedom. Phantom limbs that had long ago been sacrificed to theOmnissiahwrithed inagony,andawordlessscreamofhorrorbledfromhistank’saugmitters.

Ithadbegunonlymomentsago.Lupa Capitalina had been coming about from a successful prosecution of the outer defence

districts, pulverising themwith turbolasers then filling the ruinswith simulated plasma fire.CanisUlfricacompletedthedevastationwithitsbarragemissiles,whileAmarokandVilkastalkedtheruinstoeliminateanylastpocketsofresistanceinstormsofvulcanbolterfire.

ModeratiRostenhadbeenworkingthroughthepost-firingchecklisttopowerdownthegunswhenCanisUlfricahadmovedintotheCapitalina’sfieldofview.Skálmöldhadraisedhisgunsinsalutetohisprinceps,andeverysinglealarmhadburstintolife.

PrincepsLuthscreamedasaviolentgrandmalrippedthroughhisravagedflesh.Violentfeedbackslammedupthroughtheconsoles,killingRosteninaheartbeat,flashburninghisbraintovapourandsettinghimalight from the inside.MagosHyrdrithwas luckier, her inbuilt failsafes cutting off theManifold just before the feedback hit, but such sudden disconnection brought its own perils. Shespasmedonthefloor,blackfluids leakingfromherimplantsandafrothofoilymatterissuingfromeverymachinedorificeinherbody.

KoskinenalsofeltthesympatheticpainofLuth’sseizure,buthehadbeendisconnectedfromtheManifoldatthetime.Hisdistresscamefromseeinghisprinceps inextremisandhis fellowmoderatidead.Heranbacktohisstation,flinginghisarmsuptowardoffstreamsofsparksandhissingblasts

ofvapourescapingfrompressure-equalisingconduits.Heslidintohiscontouredcouchseat,takinginthereadingsataglance.Thehololithssurroundinghimwerealivewiththreatresponders,warningofenemiesapproaching.

‘Thisdoesn’tmakeanysense,’hesaid,alternatingbetweenreadingthethreatshispanelsinsistedwere drawing nearer with every second, and the ruined city they had just pulverised. Luth wasscreaming,asub-vocalshriekofmachinelanguagethatstillmanagedtoconveytheterribleagonieshewassuffering.

Koskinenscrolledthroughthetacticaldisplay.Accordingtothereadouts,theyweresurroundedbythousandsofenemies,monstrousswarmsoffast-moverswithhostileintent.Theyonlytoldafractionof the story, butwithout plugging back into theManifold therewasnoway to be sure ofwhat theenginethoughtitwasseeing.

‘Hyrdrith!’heyelled.‘Getup!ForMars’ssake,getup!Ineedyou!’Whetheritwashiswordsorcoincidence,Hyrdrithchosethatmomenttopushherselfupright.She

lookedaboutherself,asthoughunabletoprocesswhatwashappeningaroundher.SheclamberedtoherfeetasthedeckswayedandtheCapitalinatookafalteringstep.

‘Interrogative:whatinthenameoftheMachine-Godishappening?’‘Youdon’tknow?Everything’sgonetohelliswhat’shappening,’shoutedKoskinen.‘Luth’shaving

some kind of seizure, and the engine thinks we’re about to come under attack from thousands ofenemyunits.’

‘DoyouhavetheManifold?’‘No,’saidKoskinen.‘Ithink...IthinkLupaCapitalinahasit...’‘Thengetinandtakeitfromher,’snappedHyrdrith,bendingdowntoswapthefusedcableather

stationforafreshoneextrudedfromherstomachlikeacoiled lengthof intestine.Sheworkedwithultra-rapidspeed,re-establishingher linktothemachineheartofthebattle-engine,recitingprayerswitheachtwistofaboltandfinger-weldconnectionshemade.

‘You’re insane,Hyrdrith,’ saidKoskinen, twisting inhis seat topointat thescorchedruinof theoppositemoderatistation.‘LookwhathappenedtoRosten.’

‘Do it,’ repeatedHyrdrith as the engine took another step andLuth’s howls changed inpitch tosomethingaltogethermoredangerous. ‘Maketheconnection,weneedtoknowwhat’shappeningintheCapitalina’sheart.’

‘I’mnotre-connecting,’saidKoskinen.‘It’ssuicide.’‘Youhaveto,’repliedHyrdrith.‘Yourprincepsneedsyoutodraghimbackfromwhateveraffliction

driveshimtothismadness.’Koskinenshookhishead.Hyrdrithpulledbackthesleeveofherrobeandthestubbybarrelofaweaponunfoldedfromthe

metalofherarm.Amagazinesnappedintothegun,engagingwithaclickandarisinghum.‘Doitnow,orIwillshootyouwhereyousit.’‘You’recrazy!’shoutedKoskinen.‘YouhaveuntilIcounttothree.One,two...’‘Shit,Hyrdrith,’barkedKoskinen.‘Allright,I’llplugin,justputthatgunaway.’

‘Weplugintogether,’saidHyrdrith.‘Understood?’‘Yes,understood,damnyou.’Koskinen hefted the Manifold connector, the gold-plated connector rods looking like daggers

aimedathisbrain.NormallycommunionthroughtheManifoldwasasacredmoment,attendedtobyahostoftech-acolytes,withnumerousapplicationsofoilbalmsandanti-inflammatorygels,butthiswasaboutasfarfromnormalasitwaspossibletoget.

‘Ready?’askedHyrdrith,soundinghatefullymatteroffact.‘Ready.’‘Connect,’ saidHyrdrith, and Koskinen plugged in, feeling the cold bite of linkage through the

goldenconnectorrodsinthebackofhisskull.Asurgeoffuriousangerandheatinstantlyenvelopedhis body, his back arching with the shock of it. Acidic data poured through neurological veins,stimulatingeverynerveendingwithpainemissions,andpumpingthefullrangeofaggressor-stimmsinto his cardiovascular system. Koskinen bellowedwith animal fury, feeling the angry heart of theCapitalinaclawingathismentalprocesses.

Coupled via a moderati’s Manfold link, his connection to the bellicose spirit of the Titan wassuperficial,yetalmostoverwhelming.

WhatmustitbelikeforPrincepsLuth,twinsoulswoventogetherinonewarlikepurpose?Koskinenfoughtagainsttheanger,knowingitwasn’thisown.Titanicuseidetictrainingtookover,

fencing off those parts of his brain worst affected and concentrating on restoring his situationalawareness.Shoalsofdatalightswamintofocusasthefullrangeofauspexinputsroseuptomeethim.Ahissofterrorescapedhislipsashesawthehordesofapproachingcreatures,millionsofindividualsurveyorreturnsthatblurredintoonehomogenousmassofinputs.

‘GodofAllMachines,saveus...’hehissed.‘Somanyofthem!’<Control yourself,> said a voice that cut across his thought processes. Magos Hyrdrith, also

pluggedintotheManifold.<Noneofthisisreal.Lookcloser!>Koskinentookadeepbreathandforcedhimselftorelaxhishapticgrasponthefiringcontrolsfor

the plasma destructor, unaware he’d even summoned them to his hand. Theweapon’s power coilswerechargingoftheirownaccord,butthankfullyreleaseauthoritystilllaywiththemoderati.Herananinterpolationscanoftheinloadingsurveyorinputs,seeingavastswarmofcreaturessurroundingthem,workingwithaterrifyingdegreeofco-ordinationthatwaschillinginitsinstantaneousreaction.

Andsuddenlyheknewwhathewaslookingat.‘It’sBetaFortanis...’hesaid.‘Whydoeshethinkwe’rebackonBetaFortanis?’<Unknown,>saidHyrdrith.<Possiblyhesuffersfromtransitbleed.Aprinceps isagodamongst

men, a being so numinous and rare that they are rightly regarded as binary saints on some forgeworlds.Yeteventheyhaveamortalmindattheirheart,amindthatisasvulnerabletothetraumaofwarptransitasanyother.IbelievePrincepsLuthissufferinganepisodicrecallhallucination.>

‘He’shavinganightmare?’<Isasimplewayofputtingit,yes,>answeredHyrdrith.‘Thenhowdowewakehimup?’<Wecannot.Hewillrousehimselffromthisfuguestateeventually.Wejusthavetominimisethe

damagehedoesuntilthen.>‘Great,’saidKoskinen, lookingcloseratthehallucinatoryauspexreadingsandfeelingagnawing

waveofnauseaclamphisgut.‘Irememberthisattackpattern...Luth’sfightingthetyranidswarmsatSulphurCanyon!Thebattlewhere...oh,hell.’

<Exactly,thebattlewhereheslewthexenosbio-titan,>saidHyrdrith.<Nowgetthatplasmacoiloffline.Quickly.>

‘I’mtrying,’hegrunted,pouringallhiscommandauthority intodisarming theweapon. ‘But theCapitalina’sdamndeterminedthatshewantsit.’

Theenginelurchedaroundthelastremainsofwhathadoncebeenarecreationofaclocktower,whereenemymissile teamshadhiddenuntilAmarok had sawn itsupper levels offwith vulcan fire.Amidthespuriousreturnsfromthenon-existenttyranidswarms,Koskinenpickedoutthepanickedicons of the Legio’sWarhounds as they scrambled for cover.CanisUlfricamoved through the ruinsaheadofthem,traversingtheshatteredbuildingsasitpickedupspeedinanattempttogetoutofLupaCapitalina’spath.

Heatspikesburnedhishand,andKoskinenflinched,evenasherecognisedthepainwasillusory.‘Plasmadestructor’scomingonline!’heyelled.‘Ican’tstopit.’<Disruptthefiringsolutions,>orderedHyrdrith.KoskinenglancedoveratPrincepsLuth’samniotictank,theliquidtrappedwithinchurnedlikethe

bottomofasiltylake.Ashapeswamoutofthemurk,awizenedfaceofsuturedeyes,coil-pluggedearsandatube-fedmouth.Amputatedarmsthattrailedsilverwiresfromtheelbowsbeattheglassinfury,andtheawful,stretched-parchmentskinofthebulbousheadsmearedbloodontheglassasittwistedleftandright,staringoutatthemandseeingonlyenemies.

Koskinen linked himself to Luth’s tank and, as calmly as he was able, said, ‘It’s not real, myprinceps.Whatyou’reseeing, it’snotreal.Thisbattle isayearold.Theyhurtus,yes,butwewalkedawayfromthefightalive.Webeatthosexenosbastards!’

Luth’s monstrous head turned in his direction, though there was no way he could see him.Koskinen had no idea whether Luth could even hear him, thinking back to the chaos of the battleagainstthehivecreaturesinthatclaustrophobiccanyon.Fightingblindinyellowsteamthatbillowedup from sunken caverns, millions of scurrying, chitinous monsters swarming their legs, droppingfromthecliffsaboveorsoaringonthebillowingthermals.

Luthswamoutofsight,swallowedbytheviscousliquidofhistank.‘He’stoofargone,Hyrdrith,’saidKoskinen.‘He’sgoingtotaketheshot.’<Divertingpowerfromweaponssystems.>saidthemagos.‘No use, she’s drawing power from the shields,’ said Koskinen, wiping away firing solutions as

quicklyastheyappearedathisstations.Morewerebeinggeneratedeverysecond,andhesawitwasjust amatter ofmoments until hewould be overwhelmed and onemade it through to the plasmadestructor.Hefeltaburningpressureinhisarmasthebattle-enginebroughtitsmightyweapon-limbto bear. Koskinen fought against it, desperately trying to keep his arm immobile, but against thestrengthoftheCapitalina’sancientwolfhearthewasamoteofdustinahurricane.

<Stopthatlimbfrommoving!>criedHyrdrith.

‘WhatdoyouthinkI’mbloodytryingtodo?’gruntedKoskinen,sweatpouringdownhisface.<Thentryharder,itmaybetheonlychancetoavertdisaster.>KoskinenglancedthroughthecanopyasLupaCapitalinatookanotherstepforwardsandhispanel

litupwithtoomanyfiringsolutionsforhimtodismissthemall.CanisUlfricafilledthecanopy,butfirecontrol warbled with a positive lock on a holographic outline Koskinen recognised from SulphurCanyon.

Atyranidbio-titanthathadalmostoutmatchedtheminthefinalmomentsofthebattle.‘Omnissiahforgiveus...’hesaid,searingheatenvelopinghisfist.‘Wehavealock!’<Spikingfibre-bundlemuscleactuators.>‘Toolate!’screamedKoskinenasLupaCapitalina’splasmadestructorunleashedthepowerofastar’s

heartatoneoftheirown.+Engine.Kill.+

TheIronFistslammeddownoverabermofrubble,roaringatmaximumcapacitytowardstheTitans.What little had been left standing after theirwarwalkwas littlemore than crushed debris beyondsalvaging.Dahantriedtofathomwhatwasgoingon,butcouldmakenocontactwiththeprincepsofLupa Capitalina. TheWarlord braced its legs, and its right arm came about in fits and spasms, asthoughsufferingfromactuatordamage.

TheSiriusWarhoundsskulkedbehindthemightyengine,lopinginconfusionastheyblaredalarmfromtheirwarhorns.TheReaver facedoffagainst theWarlord, caughtwithnowhere to run toandstrippedofanycoverbytheirverythoroughnessintheexercise.Itscarapacesparkedandsquealedasits crew raced to bring voids back online, and squalling interference wavelengths created ashimmeringrainbowarounditsfrontalarmourplates.Itsgunswereraised,andtherotatingbarrelsofitsgatlingblasterwerespinninguptofiringspeed.

WhathadpossessedSiriustofighteachother?Whatmannerofslightcouldbringtwosuchawesomelypowerfulwarmachinestoblows?Without full access to the Legio Manifold, Dahan could not communicate directly with either

princeps. The best he could dowas transmit through the shared commandnetwork frequencies todemandanswers.HishindbrainkeptupabarrageofdemandsfortheLegiotopullbackfromitswarfooting,whilehe linkedwith theSperanza’snoosphericnetworkandwarned thearchmagosofwhatwashappening.

TheWarhoundstooknoteofhimandthesmallerofthepair,Vilka,brokeawayfromitsmaddenedprowlingtoracktheloadersofitsgunsandlooseahowlofwarning.Encodedineveryscrapofthathowlwasoneclearimperative.

Stayaway!DahanbroughttheIronFisttoaskiddinghaltbeforetheWarhound.‘WhatistheLegiodoing?’hevoxed,hopingthatsomeone,anyone,inSiriusmightanswerhim.‘You

muststopthismadnessnow!’Stayaway!

‘For the love of the Omnissiah, stand down!’ yelledDahan in the vocal, binaric and noosphericspheres.‘Putupyourweapons,Ibegofyou!’

A fiery haze of superheated light built along the length of Lupa Capitalina’s arm, the plasmadestructor’sfiringventssquealingastheypreparedtobleedoffthevolcanicexcessesofheat.Knowingwhatwas to comenext,Dahandropped into the IronFist and slammed thehatchdownafterhim,hoping itwouldbeenough. Inside the tank,Dahanclosed the IronFistoff from theoutsideworld,disablingitsauspex,voxandpictfeeds.

Heslammedthevehicleintofullreverse,andeventhroughthearmouredhullandovertheroaroftheenginehecouldheartheplasmadestructordrawinascreamingintakeofbreath.

‘Bracing,’hesaid,shuttingdownasmanyofhisownextraneoussystemsashecouldmanageinthemicrosecondhehadleftbeforetheengine’sgunreachedoptimalfiringtemperature.

And a thunderclap of pulverising thermic energy slammed into the tank, burning through itsrefractor fields in an instant and melting through a handspan of ablative plating. The internaltemperatureof the tank’s crew compartment flashed to that of a blast furnace, andwhat little skinDahanhadleftpeeledoffinaninstant.

Before he could even register the pain, the kinetic blast wave of the Titan’s weapon dischargepluckedtheIronFistfromthedeckandswatteditlikeatroublesomeinsect.

HawkinsheardtheTitan’senormousweaponscreamingasitdrewbreathtofire,andhurledhimselfintotheleeofafallenbuilding.Raeandascoreofsoldiersrolledintocoverwithhim,whileothersranfor shelter behind armoured vehicles, piles of debris orwhatever elsemight protect them from thebackwash.

ImperialTitanswereawelcomesightonanybattlefield,butyoudidn’twanttobeanywherenearthemwhentheyfiredplasmaweapons.Theheatbleedwouldscourthegroundforhundredsofmetresinalldirections,andthethermalshockwavewouldgiveanyonecaughtintheopenadamnnastyflashburn.He didn’t want to thinkwhatmight happen in the pressurised, oxygenated atmosphere of astarship...

‘WhatintheEye’sgoingon,captain?’shoutedRae.‘Damned if I know,’ said Hawkins, risking a glance through the shattered brickwork of the

building. Dust clouds from themanoeuvring Titans billowed around them,making precise detailshard to comeby, butHawkins saw the largest enginewitha searing lightning stormchained to itsarm.AnotherTitanstoodwithitsbacktohim,fightingtokeepitselfoutofthefiringline,butevenarelativelyagileReavercouldn’tevadeaWarlordforever.

‘Whatishedoing?’whisperedHawkins.Warhornsblared;threat,challengeandsupplicationallinone.WhatevertheReaverwasdoingtotryanddefusethelargerTitan’sanger,itwasn’tworking.‘Coveryourearsanddon’tlookup!’shoutedHawkins.‘Hereitcomes!’Hepulledbackfromthegapinthewallandpressedtheheelsofhishandsagainstthesideofhis

head.Heputhisheadinhislap,exhalingasthecolossalplasmaweaponfiredandfilledthetraining

hangarwithadeafeningthunderclapof ignitingair.The temperaturespikedanda flashbulb imagewas burned on Hawkins’s retinas. Instantaneously a seething wave of heat billowed over them, ablisteringdesertwindofdustanddebris.Wallscrasheddownthroughouttheruinedcity,blowndownbytheforceoftherecoil-blastinaconfinedspace.

Despite his own orders, Hawkins looked up in time to see the enormous blue-white bolt ofincandescentplasmaasitstreakedoverhead.Toobrighttolookat,itwastheblindingradianceofaneclipseandasupernovaallinone.Scadsofmoltenmetaltrailedfromitsouteredgesasitflashedthelengthofthetraininghallandslammedintothevast,skull-facedbulkheadatitsrear.

Hawkinsbracedhimselfforanexplosion,butthevast,super-heatedplasmaboltsimplypunchedthroughtheheavily-platedbulkheadasthoughitwasn’teventhere.Hetriedtoblinkawaythepainfulneonafterimages,buttheywouldn’tgoawayandhecursedhisfoolishnessinlookingup.Ashriekingcloudofwind-bornematterblewpast, and thewallbehindhimgroanedas thehammerblowof thethermalshockwaveslammedintoit.

‘Move!’shoutedHawkins,pushinghimselftohisfeetasthebuildingthathadshelteredthemfromthe blast now threatened to come down and bury them alive. He and Rae scrambled away as thebuildingcameapartinanavalancheofsteelandstone.ApieceofbrokenstoneclippedHawkinsontheshoulder,andtheforceoftheimpactcrackedoneofthebonesthere.Hegruntedinpainasrandomlyfallingpiecesofconnectivesteelworkandmodularplatesraineddownonhimandhismen.Chokingdustcloudssurgedandswayedintheriotousthermalvortices,tuggedthiswayandthatastheventingsystemsfoughttodissipatetheheatbuild.

Hawkins rolled to his side, clutching his damaged shoulder and spitting a mouthful ofbloodstaineddust.Hisearsrangwithnoiseandhisvisionstillwouldn’tproperlyclear,buthecouldstillseethatmanyofhissoldiershadn’tbeensolucky.Mosthadgottenoutfrombeneaththebuildingintime,butHawkinssawseveralarmsandlegsprotrudingfromthedebris,andasoldierwhosetorsolayburiedintherubble.Anumberofdustandblood-coveredsoldierstriedtofreehim,eventhoughitwasobviousthemanwasdead.

Hawkins held up his good arm and said, ‘Helpmeup,Rae. And be careful about it, I thinkmycollarbone’sbroken.’

LieutenantRae,almostunrecognisableunderapatinaofpaleashandblackdust,tookhisarmandhauledhimtohisfeet.Hawkinsbitbackacryofpainandwipedbloodfromhisforeheadashetriedtogainsomemeasureofthesituation.Warninglightsflashedoverheadandemergencyklaxonsbellowedinangerasemergencyteamsofmedicaeservitorsweredeployedfromrecessedchambers.WoundedGuardsmenshoutedformedics,whilerevvingChimeras,HellhoundsandLemanRusstanksformeddefensivelaagersonthefarsideoftheruins.DazedGuardsmenstumbledthroughthewreckage,somemissinglimbs,otherswithhorrificflashburnstheywouldlikelynotsurvive,andstillmorewithskinscorchedredbytheheatwashoftheplasmaweapon.

‘HolyGod-Emperor...’breathedRae.Thelittlethathadbeenleftstandingoftheruinedcitywasgone,itsprefabricatedstructuresand

multiple blocks flattened beneath the plasmic pressure wave radiating from the centre of thedevastation.LupaCapitalina shimmeredinadistortingheathaze,wreathedincloudsofsteamas its

weaponarmventedsuper-heatedplasmadischarge.Itswarhornblaredascreamoftriumph,butevenasHawkinspickedout itstoweringformthroughthesmokeanddust, thesoundchangedtooneofanguishasitbeheldthedestructionithadunleashed.

Canis Ulfrica swayed in front of the larger battle Titan, its right arm andmuch of its shouldercarapacesimplyburnedaway.Flamesanddroolingcablesthatspatarcsoflightninggutteredfromthewound.WiththeachingslownessofawoundedGuardsmanwho’donlyjustrealisedthegunshotinhischestwasmortal,CanisUlfrica sankto itskneeswithaboomingcrashthatreverberatedaroundthetraininghalls.Shefellnofurther,andashriekingwailofgrievingbinaryissuedfromtheaugmittersofeverymemberoftheCultMechanicus.

Despitethelosseshisownmenhadsuffered,Hawkinsfelttearsprickthecornersofhiseyestoseesomightyamachinehumbled.ThetwoWarhoundscircledthefallenReaver,theirheadsthrownbackandtheirwarhornsblastingouthowlsofprimalloss.

As destructive as the plasma bolt loosed by Lupa Capitalina had been in the training halls, it wasnothingcomparedtothedevastationyet tocome.Confined inanoxygen-richenvironmentwithoutthevastnessofanatmosphereinwhichtodissipateitsheatandionisingelectrons,theplasmaburnedvolcanic as it streaked the length of the Speranza. It burned its way through the starboard solarcollector arrays, shattering millions of precision-finished mirrors and melting support strutsmachinedtonanoscopictolerances.Thebrittledetonationsofcountlesslooking-glassessoundedlikeaglassy sea crashing on a steel shore, and the reflected heat boiled the flesh from the bones of thefloatingservitorswhoseliveswerespentinkeepingthemirrorsfreeofimperfections.

Anotherbulkheadwasslicedthroughwithhorrifyingease,thesuperstructurearoundthechambersaggingasacentraltensionbarsnappedlikeoverstretchedelastic.Inthevaultedchambersbehindthesolar collectors, vast capacitors, long since beyond the reach of any in the AdeptusMechanicus toreproduce, were reduced to thousands of tonnes of scrapmetal as the plasma bolt bored throughmachinesdreamedintoexistenceinapastage.Irreplaceabletechnologymeltedtomoltenslagandathunderclapofelectricaldischargeexplodedfromthemortallywoundedmachineryasitscreamedinits death-throes. Every metal structure within five hundred metres became lethally charged withthousandsofvolts, andhundredsof ship-serfsdiedas theywereelectrocuted in leapingarcsof redlightning.

Thehangarsoftitanicearth-movingmachineryfaredlittlebetter,withahive-dozerfivehundredmetrestallcoredbythebolt.Fuelcellsdetonatedexplosivelyandthecomplexmachineryattheheartofitsengineeringdeckwasfloodedwithvolatileelectro-plasmabackwash.Hardrubberwheelsmeltedin the heat, and every transparisteel panel shattered with thermoplasmic bloom. A giant cranemechanism,capableofliftingstarshipsbetweenconstructioncradles,wasstruckamidships,andtheentireupperassemblycrasheddownintothehold,smashingitselftodestructiononthewaydownanddoingirreparabledamagetothreeGoliathliftersandaPrometheus-classexcavator.

Andtherogueplasmaboltwasstillnotspent.

The command deck shone with a blood-red light as alarms, damage reports and emergencysubroutinesflickeredtolife.TheSperanzashookfromendtoend,andArchmagosKotovfeltherpainasitreverberatedthroughhisconnectiontothevastmachine-spirit.Cracklingarcsofpowerwreathedthearchmagos,earthingthroughmicroscopicdampersworkedintohiscyberneticbodyashefoughttokeepcontrol.

His seniormagi weremeshed with their stations, each one relaying news of the effects of thedisastrousweaponmalfunctiononthetrainingdeck.MagosSaiixek’smultiplearmsdancedovertheengineeringconsoles,reroutingenginepowerfromthebolt’spath,whileMagosAzuramagellichartedpotential exit points for an emergency warp translation. Magos Blaylock co-ordinated the ship’semergencyresponseasKryptaestrexrandamagecontrol.

Noneofthenewswasgood.‘AnymorefromDahan?’askedKotov,alreadyknowingtheanswer.‘Negative,archmagos,’saidKryptaestrex.‘Hisfloodstreamisoffline.Heislikelydead.’TheinloadfromMagosDahanhadcometothecommanddeckincomplete,andfurtherrequests

for clarification remained unanswered. The fragmentary data the Secutor magos had managed toexloadbeforegoingofflinesuggestedthatoneoftheTitansofLegioSiriushadfiredonanother,butwhathaddrivenittodosoremainedunquantifiable.

Wasistreachery?HadtherotofbetrayalandcorruptiontouchedoneofSiriusthewayithadwithLegio Serpentes onUraniborg 1572? The thought sent a shudder of dislocative current through hisbody,andtheSperanzagroanedasitfelthisfear.WashetobeforevercursedandtormentedbytheOmnissiah?Was this crusade into the unknown not penance enough to restore him in its infinitegracesandbinaryglory?

‘Starboard solar collectors are gone,’ said Tarkis Blaylock, restoring his focus.While Kotov wasconnectedtotheship’sManifold,Blaylockremainedapartfromit.Tohavebothseniormagipluggedinwhilesuchadisastrousturnofeventswasplayingoutwasagainstprocedure,butKotovdesperatelyneeded Blaylock’s statistical expertise to aid him in co-ordinating the emergency response of theSperanza.

IfKotovcouldnothaveBlaylock,thenhewouldhavethenextbestthing.Heexloadedaseriesofcode-frequenciesandbrevetrankprotocols throughthenoospheretoLinyaTychon, togetherwithadata-squirtofwhatherequiredofher.Sheansweredalmostimmediately,alreadyawareofthedangerfacingtheSperanza.Herinload/exloadcapacityadjoinedhisownandtheburdenofprocessingthevastship’sneedseasedwithanothertohelpshouldertheload.

Throughout the ship, every magos able to link with the Manifold added their own capacity tocalming the wounded vessel’s pain. Entire decks echoed with binary prayers and machine codehymnals,echoingfromprowtosternastheCultMechanicusbentitslogicalwilltotherestorationofpurefunctionality.

‘IstheGellerfieldholding?’askedKotov,divertingameasureofhisattentiontobridgecontrol.‘It’s holding,’ said Azuramagelli. ‘The field generators are situated in the prow, but with the

capacitorsoffline,theircontinuedoperationwillburnthroughourreservesmuchquicker.’

‘Haveyoucalculatedanexitpoint?’‘Working on it now,’ said Azuramagelli, managing to convey his irritation even through the

expressionlessvistaofhisbrainjars.‘Construction engine Virastyuk reports ninety per cent degradation of functionality,’ reported

MagosKryptaestrex,hissonorousvoicelikethatofamotherlistingherdeadchildren.‘LifterNummistoisdestroyed.RigsPoundstoneandThorsenaredamagedtoo.Badly.’

‘Whereistheplasmafirenow?’demandedKotov.‘Howfarhasitburned?’‘It is in the aft decks, burning through the transport holds,’ answeredBlaylock. ‘Integrity fields

havefailed,andthelossofatmospherehashelpedbleedoff102Kofplasmicenergy,thoughtheteslastrengthoftheboltremainsunaffected.Thirty-twopercentofourdrop-shipfleethasbeenblownintothewarp,togetherwithforty-fivepercentoftheGuard’sarmouredvehicles.’

Kryptaestrexgrunted,hismultiplearmsandwidebodyjerkingwiththeforceofhisdispleasure.‘TheCadiansaren’tgoingtolikethat,’hesaid.‘Ifwe cannotdampen this fire, then their dislikeswill be the least of our concerns,’ saidKotov.

‘When this is over, I will build them replacements in the prowmanufactories. Nowwhere aremycontainmentdoors?’

‘Blast containment shields are raising between sections Z-3 Tertius Lambda and X-4 Rho,’ saidBlaylock,readingthedamage-controlinloadsfromnoosphericveilsoflight. ‘Thereisaneighty-threepointsevenpercentchancetheywillnothalttheblastanditwillbreachthemainplasmacombustionchamber.’

‘Buttheywillatleastdampenitsforce?’‘Tosomedegree,yes,’agreedBlaylock.‘Butgiventheenhancedconditionsforplasmaburnaboard

ship,theywillnotstopit.’‘Ventthechambersbeyond,’saidAzuramagelli.‘It’stheonlyway.’‘No,’ saidSaiixek. ‘Thoseare theworkerhabs for theengineeringdecks. Ineed thosemenials to

maintainengineefficiency.Divertingtoobtainmorewouldgreatlydelayourmission.’

Microcontent13

Abrehembenttoremovehismaskasawaveofnauseasurgeduphisgullet.Hepulledtherebreatherup just enough to expose hismouth – a practice everyworker learned early on in the reclamationchambers–andpukedabloodyfrothof lungandstomachtissue.Hespatastringymouthfulofashandglassyplasmaresidueandwipedhiscrackedlipswiththebackofhisglovedhand.

‘Get amove on, BondsmanLocke,’ saidVresh, descending on his repulsor disc and tapping thebaseofhiskineticprodonhisshoulder.‘Don’tmakemeturnthison.’

AbrehemalmostpreferreditwhenVreshspokeinharshburstsofmachinecode.Atleastthenhedidn’t have to listen to his grating authoritarian tones with comprehension. The overseer hadeventuallytakenthehintthatsimplyincreasingthevolumeofhisbinariccodeblurtsdidn’tmakethemanymoreintelligibletothosewithoutthecapacitytotranslatethem.

Ironically, it was Crusha who had provided an insight into Vresh’s commands. The crudeaugmetics grafted to the ogryn’s powerful frame included a binaric slave coupler that had enoughfadedident-codeslefttotellAbrehemithadoncebeenGuardissue.Crushahimselfhadnomemoryofhis lifebefore coming to thedocksidebar, but its seemed likelyhe’d served inoneof the abhumancohortsattachedtoaJouranregiment,perhapsasalifterforanenginseer.

Vresh had proved to be a vindictive overseer, a petty bureaucrat who revelled in his middlingpositionofauthority.Hedrovethebondsmenunderhisaegishard,withafondnessforadministeringpunishingblowsfromhiskineticprodandworkingthemrightuptothelastminutebeforethegiantplasmacylindersdumpedtheirexplosivewastematerial.

‘Mylungsareonfire,’saidAbrehem,fightingforbreath.‘Ican’tbreathe.’‘YouhavefivesecondsbeforeIadministercorrectiveencouragement.’Abrehemnodded,resignedtothepain,forhehadnostrengthlefttohim.Someofthebondsmen

whocouldgoonnolongervolunteeredforsurgicalservitude,butAbrehemhadlongsincevowednotto fall so low. Vresh hovered close to him, the end of his kinetic prod buzzing with accumulatingpower.

‘Hey,noneedforthat,’saidHawke,wadingthroughdriftsofsharpplasmaflectswithCrushaathisside.‘We’vegothim.He’sfine.’

‘Yeah,it’sneartheendofshift,noneedtogetnasty,eh?’addedCoyne.CrushahelpedAbrehemtohisfeet,andhenoddedgratefullytoHawkeandCoyneashereadthe

shipboardtimestampinthecodelinessnakinginthedepthsofthewalls.Fifty-fiveminutesremainedoftheirshift.Abrehemwaswonderinghowhewasgoingtolastthatlong,whenhesawsomethingthatsentajoltofadrenalinethroughhiswretched,toxin-ravagedbody.

Angry,woundedblaresofcodelightshimmeredonthevaultedceilingofthereclamationchamber,like a redweal on skin just before a needle punctures the vein. Vresh felt it too, and looked up inpuzzlementasaglowingspotoflightappearedonthesurfaceofthechamber’sceiling.

‘Whatthehellisthat?’askedHawke,wipingagreasyhandovertheeye-lensesofhisrebreather.Abrehemreadthefranticcodeinthewallsasitburstapartinspraysofwarningdata,andsawthe

natureoftheemergencyaboveinitsbinaryfear.Enslavedbondsmenthroughoutthechamberpausedintheirlaboursandlookedupattheunnaturalsight.

‘Wehavetogetout,’hegasped.‘Rightnow.’‘Why,what’sgoingon?’‘Theplasmacombustionchamberabove,it’sbeenbreached,’criedAbrehem,turningandrunning

asquicklyashecouldinhisenvironmentsuittothesealeddoortothechamber.‘Everyoneout!Run,forThor’ssakerun!’

‘Halt immediately,’snappedVresh. ‘BondsmanLocke,ceaseanddesistallattemptstovacatethischamber.Continueddisobediencewillresultinenforcedsurgicalservitude.’

Abrehem ignored the overseer and kept on going, stomping over the scoured deck where theindustrial-scale sifters andbrusheshadalready swept.He felt the eye-wateringbuzzof theprodasVreshcaughtuptohim,butdidn’thavetheenergytoavoidit.Theprodtouchedhiminthecentreofhisbackanda thunderouspunchofkinetic force slammedhim to thedeck.Thebreathwasdrivenfromhimbytheimpact,andherolledontohisbackasHawkeandCoynerushedtohisside.

‘Areyouokay?’saidHawke.‘We’vegottogetout,’saidAbrehem.‘Thisplaceisgoingtobeneck-deepinplasmaanyminute.’Hestruggledtogettohisfeet,eachlimbstilljanglinginpainwithnervestimulationfromVresh’s

prod.Theoverseerfloateddownonhisrepulsordisc,andheaimedthethrobbingstaffatAbrehem’schest.

‘Returntowork,bondsmen,’orderedVresh. ‘Orthenextprodswillripyournervoussystemsoutthroughyourskin.’

Abrehem looked up as a tiny spot of light detached from the ceiling, falling in an almost lazyparabolathatwasjustdistortedperspective.Thedropletofplasmafellwiththeaccuratesynchronicityof predestination, and Abrehemwas not ashamed to later admit that he took great relish in whathappenednext.

The droplet struck Vresh on the very top of his steel skull and cored through him like a high-poweredlaser.Hisbodyflash-burnedfromthemarrow,andbluefireexplodedfromhisaugmeticeye-lensesandconnectiveplugs.Hisbonesfusedinaninstantandgobbetsofcharredfleshandimplantedmetaldroppedtothedeckwithawetthudofsmokingremains.

‘HolyTerra!’criedCoyne,backingawayinhorrorfromtheruinofwhathad,amomentago,beena

person.‘Whatthehell...?’spatHawke.‘Comeon!’saidAbrehem.‘Wehavetogo.Now.’‘Noarguments fromme,’ saidHawke, turningand sprinting for the reclamation chamber’s exit

gate. Coyne was hard on his heels, with Crusha lumbering behind them. Abrehem followed them,strugglingastheafter-effectsofthekineticprodmadehislimbsstiffandjerky.

Thelightabovegrewinbrightnessuntilitbathedtheentirechamberinitsbleachedwhiteglow.Aspiderwebofglowinglightspreadfromtheinitialleak,spreadingeverwiderasthestructuralintegrityoftheceilingbegantofail.Moredropletsofplasmafellfromtheceilinglikethebeginningsofagentlerain shower. But where these droplets landed they sparked into flames, rekindling the toxic wastedumpedfromthecombustionchambersorignitingtheoil-soakedenvironmentsuitsofbondsmen.

Stratified layers of volatile fumes, kept below the ignition threshold by overworked, chuggingvents, suddenly expanded as hot plasmawas added to themix. Pockets of flammable gas explodedthroughoutthechamberastheilluminatedcracksontheceilingburnedbrighterandbrighter.

‘Openthegate!’shoutedAbrehemasdrizzlesofwhite-hotplasmasheeteddownbehindtheminafalling curtain of fire. The death screams of the bondsmen farther back were swallowed as thesuperheatedairvaporisedtheirrebreathersandsuckedthebreathfromtheirlungs.

‘It’sbloodylocked,isn’tit?’saidHawke,lookingoverAbrehem’sshoulderasaportionoftheceilingcollapsedandadelugeofplasmadroppedintothechamber.‘OnlyVreshcouldopenit.’

‘NotjustVresh,’saidAbrehem.‘Atleast,Ihopenot.’Heplacedhishandon thearchedgateandread the simplemachine-spiritworking the lock. Its

sentiencewasbarelyworthyofthename,withasimpledualstateofbeing.Hefollowedthepathofitsworkings,andsentapulseofbinaryfromhisaugmeticeyes.Thelockresistedatfirst,unusedtohisidentityandwaryofanewtouch,butitrelentedashewhisperedtheprayerhisfatherhadtaughthimasayoungboy.

‘ThusdoweinvoketheMachine-God.Thusdowemakewholethatwhichwassundered.’Thelockdisengagedandthereinforcedgatesankintothefloorwithagrindingrumbleofslowly

turningmechanisms.Hawkewas firstoverwhen thegatehad loweredenough,quickly followedbyCrushaandCoyne.Abrehemleaptthroughasaroaringcrashandasurgeofdazzlingbrilliancetoldhimthattheentireceilinghadfinallygivenwaybehindthem.

‘Closeit!Closeit!’yelledCoyneasawaveofroilingplasmasurgedtowardsthegateway.Abrehemplacedhispalmonthelockplateontheoutsideofthechamber.Againhelookeddeepintotheheartofthegate’slockspiritandsaid,‘Machine,sealthyself.’Thegatewayrumbledbackupwithwhatseemedlikeagonisingslowness,butitwasfastenoughto

preventtheoceanofsearingplasmafromescapingthereclamationchamber.Ajetofscaldingsteamand a layer of scorched iron spat through the top of the gate, but this barrier was designed towithstand excesses of temperature and pressure, and it held firm against the onslaught of sun-hotplasmawithin.

Abrehemletoutashudderingbreathandplacedhisheadagainsttheburningironofthegate.‘Thankyou,’hesaid.

HawkeandCoyneheldtheirsidesanddrewingulpingbreathsofstagnantair.‘Shittinghell,thatwasclose,’saidHawke,almostlaughinginrelief.‘Whatjusthappened?’demandedCoyne.‘Areallthosemenintheredead?’‘Ofcoursethey’rebloodydead,’snappedAbrehem.‘They’renothingbutvapournow.’‘Emperor’smercy,’saidCoyne,sinkingtohiskneesandputtinghisheadinhishands.‘Ican’ttake

muchmoreofthis.’‘Yousavedourlivesinthere,Abe,’saidHawke,pattingAbrehemontheback.‘Ireckonthat’sgotta

beworthsomething.WhatdoyousayIstandyouboysadrink?’Abrehemnodded.‘Icoulddrinkawholebarrelofyourrotgutrightaboutnow.’‘Let’snotgettoocarriedaway,’saidHawke.‘Onlyyourfirst’sonthehouse.’

‘Plasmic temperature falling exponentially,’ saidMagos Blaylock, and his attendant dwarfs clappedtheirforeshortenedlimbsasthoughhehadbeenpersonallyresponsibleforsavingtheship.‘Teslasarestillhigh,butfallingtoo.Plasmadensitydiminishingrapidlyandthermalkineticenergyperparticledroppingofftonon-destructivelevels.’

Kotovletoutastreamoflingua-technisprayersandclosedhiseyestogivethanksforthereprieve.‘GodofAllMachines,todayyouhavejudgedyourservantsworthyofyourGreatWork,’saidKotov,

letting his voice carry over the entire command deck. ‘And for this we give thanks. Glory to theOmnissiah!’

‘GlorytotheOmnissiah,’intonedtheassembledmagi.‘Thelivingdiminish,’saidKotov.‘ButtheMachineendures,’camethetraditionalreply.Streamsofworshipfulbinarybloomedfromthefloodstreamofeverymagosaseachofthembegan

totakecontrolofthedamagethathadbeendonetotheship.Kotovcouldfeelitsdeephurt,abone-deepagony,likeamortallancethrusttotheback.

Butwherelessershipswoulddie,theArkMechanicuswouldendure.Kotovlethismindskimtheoscillatingstreamsoflightthattravelledthelengthandbreadthofthe

Speranza,drinking in thedata flowingbetween itsmyriadsystems.Everyoneof themfeltpain,buteveryoneofthemsiphonedtheagonyofsystemdeathfromthemostgrievouslywoundedmachinesandtookitintotheirownprocesses.Everypartoftheshipfeltthepainofitswounding,butoutofthatsharedagonycamealesseningoftheworstdamage.

Throughout the ship, Kotov felt the presences of the thousands of tech-priests, lexmechanics,calculus-logi, data-savants and sentience-level servitors that made up the Speranza’s crew. Everymemberof theCultMechanicus that couldplug into theManifoldhaddone so, and eachone sangbinary hymns of quietude or recited catechisms of devotion and obeisance to the Machine.Individually, each might not achieve much, but the song of the Adeptus Mechanicus combinedthroughouttheshiptoeasethepainofitsdreadfulwound.

KotovlethisapprobationflowintotheManifold.WhereelsebutintheAdeptusMechanicuscouldsuchsingularunityofpurposebefound?

Songs of praise to the Omnissiah flowed around him, double, triple, and even quadruple helixspirals of binary moving effortlessly through the circuitry and data light like a soothing balm. Asterribleasthedamagewouldlikelyprove,theworstwasover,andthoughthelossofevenonemachinewasasolemnblow,Kotovknewtheyhadgottenofflightly.

HefeltthepresenceofLinyaTychonanddirectedhisdataghosttowardstheastrogationchamber,where she and her father added their own verses to the healing binaric song. He felt the wash ofinformation that filled the chamber, amazed that none of it had been corrupted in the spasms ofdigitalanarchythathadflowedthroughtheshipinthewakeoftheaccident.

<Archmagos,>saidLinya.<Mythanksforyouraid,MistressTychon,itwasinvaluable.><IservethewilloftheOmnissiah,>shereplied.<Really,Ididverylittle.><Youunderestimateyouself,Linya,>saidKotov.<Itisanunseemlyhabitandmakesothersdoubt

you.YouprovedyourworthintheManifoldtoday,andotherswillseeittoo.>KotovfelttheswellofprideinLinya’sandherfather’sfloodstreamsandmovedontothesourceof

the destructive plasma bolt. His consciousness flowed along the path the searing bolt had traced,lamentingtheneedlesslossofsomanyfinemachines.Thelowerdecksweredead,emptyspaceswheretwoentiredeckshadbeenventedtobleedtheboltofitssustainingoxygenandionisingatmosphere.Regrettable,butnecessary.

Hesawtheshatteredglassygraveyardofthestarboardsolarcollectorandthemoltenremainsofthegiantcapacitorthatstoreditsgatheredenergy.Thelossofonesuchsystemwouldbebadenough,buttolosebothwasgoingtoputaseriousdrainontheiravailablepower.Coupledwiththelossofoneofthemainplasmacombustionchambers,Kotovsuspectedtheexpeditionwasinveryrealdangerofsufferinganunsustainableenergydeficit.

Movingforwards,hesawthedevastatedtraininghangar,whereGuardsmen,BlackTemplarsandskitarii fought to deal with the hundreds of wounded and dead. Confined in the pressurisedenvironmentofthehangar,thebackwashoftheblasthadlevelledDahan’strainingarenaandkilledagreatmanyoftheImperium’sfinest.Kotovinloadedthecasualtylists,shockedbyhowmanyhaddiedandhowmanyweremovingfromwoundedtodead.

LupaCapitalinastoodatthefarendofthehangar,itsarmshanginglimplybyitssidesasscreamingventsblastedsuperheatedsteamintotheairaboveit.Emergencyventingoftheplasmareactoratitsheart,realisedKotov.ThecrewhadshuttheTitandown,drainingitofeverylastscrapofpower,andhotrainfellaroundthedormantengine,streakingitsvastarmouredcarapaceanddrizzlingfromitsdroopingheadliketears.

Kotovsawagaggleoftech-priestsandservitorsloweringanarmouredcasketfromtheWarlord’sopenedcanopy.Theytookthegreatestofcarewithitshandling,aswelltheymight,fortheycarriedthemortalfleshofPrincepsArloLuth,ChosenoftheOmnissiahandfavouredsonofbattle.Withouthim,Lupa Capitalina was nothingmore than an inert piece of holymetal. The very best of the AdeptusBiologiswouldworkwithoutpausetoundowhateverhadcausedthisunfortunateseriesofevents.

CanisUlfricakneltbeforetheWarlord, itsrightsidetornawayandfusedbytheheatof theblastthathad felled it.Kotov felt theReaver’spainbleeding into theManifold,but saw that itwasbyno

means beyond saving. Kryptaestrex had the supplies, and Turentek, the Speranza’s Ark Fabricatus,couldworkmiracleswithmachines thought damagedbeyondhealing.Amarok andVilka circled thewounded Titan as hundreds of tech-priests and Legio acolytes swarmed its broken body. PrincepsEryksSkálmöldhadalreadybeenremoved,andhiscasketrestedonafloatinggravitypalanquinasthechantingpriestssurroundinghimawaitedthearrivaloftheLegio’sAlphaPrinceps.

EveninloadingtheManifoldrecordsfrombothTitansgaveKotovlittleclueastowhathadcausedLupa Capitalina to fire on one of its own. He saw it was only the last-minute stimulation of theWarlord’sactuatormusclesbyMagosHyrdriththathadthrownitsaimoffenoughtosaveCanisUlfricafromcompletedestruction.

AsKotov scanned the terriblewreckageof the traininghall,hecaughta faint,butunmistakabletraceelementofMagosDahan’sbio-mechanicalscentasittuggedontheedgesoftheManifold.

<Dahan?Isthatyou?>Kotov received no response, but the strength of themechanised tech-sign grew stronger at the

touchofhisManifold-presence.Flittingthroughthedatasphere,Kotovquicklytriangulatedthesourceof the tech-sign – a smashed tank, almost entirely buried in the ruins of a fallen structure – andassignedthetaskofdiggingitcleartoanearbygroupofmuscle-augmentedcombatservitors.

Hefelttheinsistentpullofcommandrequestscomingfromthebridgeandracedbackthroughtheconduits of the ship until his consciousness sat once again enthroned in his cerebral cortex. Kotovopenedhiseyesandletthereassuringwarmthofthecommanddeck’sdata-seaenfoldhim.

‘Summarise:damageandprognosis,’hesaid.‘MagosBlaylock,begin.’‘Theplasmabolthasnowbeensuccessfullydischarged,’hesaid.‘Ventingthelowerdeckswasthe

correctcourseofaction.Despitethelossofnumerousmechanicalandmortalcomponents–afulllistisappendedviasub-stratanoospheric link–theSperanza isstill functionallyoperational.The lossofcrew and power generation will be our biggest concern as the expedition continues. The energyrequirementoftheGellerfieldisdrainingourpowerreservestooquickly,andattherecommendationofMagosAzuramagelli,Iwouldsuggestthatwedropoutofwarpspacewithinthenexttwohours.’

‘Howshortwillthatleaveus?’demandedKotov.Azuramagelli answered, his carriage-like armaturemoving through a floating representation of

theValettesystem.Anumberofcallipersextendedfromtherotatingrimbeneathhisbrainjars,andashimmeringpointoflightappearedjustbeyondtheouteredgesofthesystem.

‘WithMagosTychon’s added inload capacity, I have calculated anoptimal exit point,whichwillleaveusfifteendaysbeyondthesystem’sedge.’

‘Fifteen days? That is unacceptable, Magos Azuramagelli,’ said Kotov. ‘Find another exit pointclosertoValette.’

‘Impossible,’saidAzuramagelli.‘Withthecurrentdrainonourenergyreserves,thereisnowaytomaintaintheGellerfieldlongenoughtoreachanycloserwithasafeenoughmarginofreserve.’

‘Damnthereserve,’saidKotov,hotangerrisingfromhisbodyinahazeofredfloodstream.‘Findusacloserexit.’

‘MagosAzuramagelliis,unfortunately,correct,’saidSaiixekofengineering,pullingahostofdatatablesandgraphsfromtheair. ‘Thelossoftheplasmacombustionchamberslowsusbyafactortoo

greattoignore.’‘Andwithoutcapacitor reserve,ouroperationalprotocolsdictate thatwecannotrunundersuch

conditions,’ added Kryptaestrex. ‘We need to return to real space and unfold the port collector tochargeuptheremainingcapacitor.We’lllikelyneedtodrainhalfthesupportshipsoffuelandpowerorwewon’tevenreachtheHaloScar,letalonegetbeyondit.’

‘Indeed,’ said Blaylock. ‘Prudencemight dictate that we abandon such an attempt until we arebetterabletofacesuchachallenge.’

‘Iwonderedwhenyouwouldsuggestthat,’saidKotov.‘Archmagos?’‘Turningback?You’dlikenothingbetterthanforustoreturntoMarsinfailure.’‘Iassureyou,archmagos,Iwishustosucceedasmuchasyou.’KotovreadnofalsehoodinBlaylock’sfloodstream,butcouldn’tquitebringhimselftobelievehis

FabricatusLocum.Themomentstretched,andKotovrealisedhewasoutofoptions.‘Verywell,’hesaid.‘Makethenecessarypreparationsforareturntorealspace.’

Abrehem,Coyne,HawkeandCrushamade theirway through the cavernous transit chambers backtowardsthelowerdormitorydecks.Themetalfloorwasslickwithmoistureandwispsofcoldsteamdriftedfromventsthatbillowedcoldairintothearchedtunnels.

‘Thisfeelsweird,’saidCoyne.‘Ialwaysfeltthesetunnelswereclaustrophobic.’‘Whenthere’shundredsofbondsmentrudgingtoandfromwork,it’sgoingtofeelcramped,’said

Abrehem, tryingnot to remember the screamsof thedyingmen in the reclamationchamberas theplasmawaveengulfedthem.

‘It’scoldtoo,’saidHawke.‘Yeah,andtheairtastesfunny,’addedCoyne.‘It tastes... clean...’ saidAbrehem, surprisedhe’dnotnoticed that. Ithadbeenso longsincehe’d

tastedairthathadn’tbeenscrubbedthroughlabouringfiltersorwasn’tlacedwithdustandtoxinsthathe’dforgottenwhatcleanairtastedlike.

‘Maybethey’vehadasystempurgeafterwhathappened?’suggestedCoyne.‘Notlikely,’saidHawke.‘Thenwhatdoyouthinkhappened?’‘LikeIcare,’saidHawke.‘Iftheair’scleanerthenthat’sgreat,butIdon’tgiveashiprat’sfartwhy

it’shappened.’Abrehemshookhishead. ‘No, theair’snot just clean, it’s cold. Imean, really cold. Like it’s been

frozen.Andit’shard,likeit’s,Idon’tknow,staleorsomething.’Theothershadnoanswerforhim,andtheywalkedtherestofthewayinsilence,alongechoing

tunnels lit through stained-glass lancets by dancing flames, down skull-stamped stairs of iron,throughyawningportalsfringedwithcarvedstonecogsandpastheavingranksofrelentlesspistons.

Theysawnoonetoofferanexplanationfortheemptiness.Hereandthere,Abrehemsawdiscardedpiecesofmaintenancemachineryfixedto thedeck,but

without anyone around to operate them.Themorepressure hatches they passed through themorefrequentthesignsofsomethingamissbecame.

Noneofthemhadpaidmuchattentiontotheirsurroundingssincebecomingbondsmen,andtheomnipresent exhaustionhadquicklydrained themof any curiosity to lookaround.Butwithout thepressofbodiesaroundthemandthesuddenclaritythatcomesfromaneardeathexperience,allthreemenfeltamountingapprehensionastheyapproachedtheirdormitorydeck.

‘Idon’tlikethis,’saidHawke.‘Whereiseveryone?’saidCoyne,echoingAbrehem’sthoughtsexactly.At last they reached the cavernous opening to the feeding hall, and as the airtight gate ground

downintothedeck,awallofpiled-upbodiestumbledintothepassageway,likewateroveracollapsingdam.Freezingairgustedoverthedead,andAbrehembackedawayfromthespillingcorpses;menandwomeninthegrimycoverallsofMechanicusbondsmen.Thebodieswerepale,lipscyanotic,eyeswidewiththepainandterrorofsuddendecompressionandasphyxiation.Fingernailswerebloodywheredesperatehandshadclawedatthegate.

‘Thor’sblood,’ saidHawke,as theslidingheapofbodiescametoahalt. ‘What thehellhappenedhere?’

‘They’realldead...’saidCoyne.Abrehemfelt the coldof theair clamparoundhis soul ashe finallyunderstood the causeof the

freezingchill inthesurroundingtunnels.He lookedupthecliff-facewallsatthegentlyrotatingfanbladesoftheair-circulationvents.Stripsofinscribedparchmentflutteredfromthelouvres,prayersofpurityand imprecationsforuntrammelledtransitofair.Thoseprayershadbeenhideouslymocked,andhetriednottoimaginethehorrorofthemenandwomenastheventshadreversedanddrawnairinsteadofprovidingit.

‘The bastards!’ he cried, wrapping his arms around his scrawny frame. First the deaths in thereclamationchamber,andnowthis!Howmuchcouldonemanbeexpectedtobear?

‘Howdidthishappen?’saidCoyne,notyetreachingtheinevitableconclusionofferedbytheblue-lippedcorpses.

Crushaopenedapaththroughthedead,liftingeachbodyasideandshowingsurprisinggentlenessforonesomonstrouslybulkedandsoseeminglysimple.AbrehemfollowedtheogrynandHawkeintothe feeding hall, letting his eyes roam the empty ranks of tables, the monstrous silence and thescatteredruinofplastektrays.Servitorslaydeadnexttotheirservingmachines,andwhilemostofthebodieswerepiledhighat thechamber’s threegates,manyotherswere lyingslumpedbelowtheair-circulationvents,perhapsinthevainhopethattheymightstartupagain.

HawkefollowedAbrehem’sgazeandsaid,‘Theyventedit.Theybloodyventeditall.’Coyne turned towardsAbrehem,willinghim todenywhatHawkewas saying. ‘No, that can’tbe

right?Theywouldn’tdothat.’Abrehen felt the last shred of his humanity unravelling from his soul and being replaced by a

tighteningcoilofabsoluterage. ‘Hawke’sright.Theyventedtheatmospherefromthisdeck intothevacuum,that’swhytheairtastescoldandhard.It’sonlyjustbeenrestored.’

‘Whywouldtheydothat?Itdoesn’tmakesense.’

‘Thebreachintheplasmacombustionchamber,’sighedAbrehem,sittingatoneofthemanyvacanttables.‘Whatevercauseditmusthavebeenworsethanthanweknew.Saiixekprobablydecidedtoblowtheairoutofthisdecktoventtheplasmaintospaceandsuffocatethefire.’

‘But he’s killed an entire shift of bondsmen,’ said Coyne, still unwilling to accept that such amonstrousactcouldhavebeendeliberate.

AbrehemsurgedtohisfeetandsnatchedCoynebyhisoil-stainedoveralls.HeslammedCoyneintothewallandshoutedinhisface: ‘Whenareyougoingtogetitintoyour

thickhead,thattheMechanicusdon’tcareaboutourlives?We’renumbers,nothingmorethanthat.Sowhat if Saiixek had to kill a few thousand bondsmen just to put out a fire? There’s always anotherworldwherehecancollarmoreslavestoworkthemselvestodeathforhisbloodyMachine-God.’

‘Easy there, Abe,’ saidHawke, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘Coyne here ain’t the enemy. It’sthoseMechanicusbastardsthatneedtakingdownapegortwo,yeah?’

AbrehemfelthisfuryabateandhereleasedCoynewithashamefacedsob.‘I’msorry,’hesaid.‘It’sokay,’saidCoyne.‘Forgetaboutit.’‘No,’saidAbrehem. ‘That’stheonethingI’mnotgoingtodo.TheAdeptusMechanicusmurdered

thesebondsmen,andI’lltellyouthisnow.Someone’sgoingtopay.’

TheSperanzalimpedoutofwarpspaceninety-threeminuteslater,itshullintactanditsGellerfieldsat the limitof theircapacity toendure.MagosKryptaestrexhadsqueezedevery last reserveofnon-essentialpowertokeeptheshieldsintactlongenoughtoreachthedesignatedexitpointcalculatedbyMagos Azuramagelli. At Kotov’s insistence – and much to Azuramagelli’s chagrin – his trans-immaterialcalculationswereverifiedbyLinyaandVitaliTychon,butbothQuatrianmagiconfirmedhisequationswerewithouterror.

FarbeyondthesystemedgeofValette,theSperanzabrokethebarrierbetweentheempyreanandrealspace.Thecurrentsthathadbroughtthemthisfarthroughthewarpwerestillturbulent,andthetranslationwasnotsmooth.TheArkMechanicusshudderedwithtranslationburn,trailingrupturedscreedsof immaterial energies that clung to itshull andhowledmadnessat thecrewwithinbeforevanishinginahazeofnebulousanger.

Withperimetersecurityestablished,theenormousship’sportflankopenedup;blastshieldsandairtightshuttersratchetingopenasthesurvivingsolarcollectoremergedlikeaslowlyunfurlingsail.Complexlatticesofjoints,gimbals,rotatorcuffsandmultiplehingesexpandedinaprecisegeometricballetuntil akilometre-wideandseven-hundred-metre-longbankofenergy-hungrycellswasaimedtowardstheshimmeringlightofthefardistantValettiansun.

Sofarfromthesystem’sheart,theenergythecollectorwouldgatherfromthestarwouldbelow,butthestreamofhotneutronsflowingalongthe lengthof theelectromagneticallychargedhullandgathered by the Speranza’s ramscoops was the main target of this harvest. Almost as soon as thecollectorwasfullydeployed,thechargelevelsonthedrainedcapacitorbegantoclimb,andthespeedofthatascentwouldonlyincreaseastheSperanzapickedupspeed.

Theemergencytranslationhadscatteredthefleet likeseedssownrandomlybyanagri-spreader,andanotherthreehourspassedbeforecontactcouldbeestablishedwithanyothership.Onebyone,the vessels of the fleet signalled their position, and began the slowprocess of regrouping.RefineryshipsandgenatoriumvesselsclusteredclosetotheSperanza,monstrousumbilicalslinkingthemtotheArkMechanicustosuckleitsmightyhungerforfuelandpower.AdozenshipswereemptiedbeforetheSperanzawassatedenoughtoproceed.

MoonchildandWrathchild,twinsoulsaswellastwinships,weretheluckiestofthefleet,scatteredaday’stravelaheadoftheSperanza.TheAdytumremainedtuckedinclosetothemightyvessel,andtheCardinalBoraslayabeamofthefleet,lessthanfifteenhoursaway.TheescortsMortisVossandBladeofVosswerenotsolucky,trailingatleastadaybehindinwildernessspace.

Despite repeatedattempts to locateHonourBladewith long-rangeauspex,deepaugur scansandastropathicscrying,notracecouldbefoundof thethirdvessel launchedfromVossPrime.ThefleetsearchedforaslongasArchmagosKotovdeemedappropriate,buteverycaptainknewinhisheartthattolingerinthetracklessgulfsbetweensystemswastoohazardoustoriskforlong.

Themater-captains of the surviving Vossian craft demanded extra time to search for their lostsister ship, but Kotov overruled them and threatened to relieve both women of command if theydisobeyedhisorderstomakebestspeedforthedistantsystemedge.Reluctantly,MortisVossandBladeofVossturnedtheirprowsforValetteandfollowedorders.

ThegreatbellintheHighTempletotheOmnissiahofeachremainingvesselwasrungthreetimes;onceforthelostHonourBlade,oncefortheMachine-God’slostchildren,andonceforthemortalsoulsaboardher.

The fleetmovedon, scatteredandstretchedbeyondwhatanyNavydoctrinal treatiseonconvoytactics would consider prudent, but at least together and closing formation. With Moonchild andWrathchild leading theway, theKotovFleet plotted an intercept coursewith the lonely outpost thatthattracedatwohundredandthirty-fiveyearorbitofthestarattheheartofthesystem.

TheValetteMechanicusManifoldstation.ThelastpointofcontactwiththelostfleetofMagosTelok.

MACROCONTENTCOMMENCEMENT:+++MACROCONTENT003+++

TheSoullesssentienceistheenemyofalllife.

Microcontent14

Theatmosphereofthepack-meetwasasfrostyasthemistyairgustingfromthecoolantunits,anditwasn’tabouttogetanybetter,thoughtModeratiKoskinen.Skálmöldhadbeenspoilingforafighteversince the incident. Koskinen respected Skálmöld, but he didn’t really like him, though he couldn’tblamehimforhisanger.

In the two weeks since Lupa Capitalina attacked Canis Ulfrica, the prow forges of the ArkMechanicushadworkedcontinuousshifts tocraft freshweaponryandarmourplates to replace theReaver’s destroyed components. A veritable army of tech-priests, Legio acolytes and constructionengines labouredonthefallenTitan,returningittooperationalreadiness.Suchamonumentaltaskwouldnormallytakemonthsofintensivelabour,ritualandconsecration,buttheArkFabricatus,avastconstruction-enginemagosnamedTurentek,hadworkedmiraclesindrasticallyshorteningthattime.Theengineanditsrebuiltpartswouldsoonrisefromtheconstructioncradles,rebornandrestored,butKoskinenknewitwasn’tthephysicaldamagethatwastheworstthingtocomeoutoftheattack.

HestoodbesidePrincepsLuth’scasket,pressingapalmtothepanesofarmourglasandfeelingtheslumbering heartbeat of the divine being within. Magos Hyrdrith attended the monitoring deviceattached to the base of Luth’s casket, and the winking status lights along its base attested to therenewedhealthoftheprinceps.

Luthwasyettoberousedfromhisneurologicaldormancy,andwhoknewwhatstateofmindtheprincepswouldbeinwhenhewasawoken?DidherememberwhathappenedonthetrainingdeckorwouldhestillbefightingthedesperatebattleatSulphurCanyon?NoteventheseniorLegioBiologiscouldsayforsurewhateffecthisactionswouldhaveonhismind.KoskinenwilledLuthtobesane,fortherewasonlyonewarriorwhowouldtakecommandoftheLegio if theAlphaPrincepswas judgedunfitforduty.

Skálmöld’scasketsatoppositeLuth’s,pluggedinarecessedbayofthemedicaetemplumgivenovertotheLegiobyArchmagosKotov.TheReaverprincepswasashadowedfigurethathunglikealimblessrevenant in milky-white suspension. His casket was slightly smaller andmore ornate than Luth’s,owingtoitsdesignbeingcommissionedundertherubricofadifferentFabricator.

MagosOhtarattendedtohisprincepswithgreatdiligence,forSkálmöldhadsufferedgreatlytoo.

HisTitanhadbeendamnnearkilled, and the feedbackpainmusthavebeenunbearable. LikeLupaCapitalina,CanisUlfricahadalsolostamoderati.TobiasOsarahadbeenvaporisedintheblastthathadtakentheReaver’sarm,anditssecondmoderati,JoakimBaldur,hadbeenbadlywounded.Hisrightarmandaportionofhis skullwereencased indermal-wrapandhisburnedskinreplacedwithvat-culturedgrafts.BaldurglaredatKoskinenasthoughhewaspersonallyresponsibleforthebadbloodbetween their Titans. Koskinen didn’t rise to the bait, and held his tongue while they awaited thearrivaloftheSkinwalker.

Coldairfilledthemedicaetemplum,andKoskinenpulledhisuniformjackettighterabouthimself,wishinghe’dthoughttowearhisheavierrobes.Thetemperaturewithinwaspreciselycontrolled,andathinpatinaoffrostcoatedthemetalliciconsoftheOmnissiahonthewalls,theinsulatedmachineryofthe central cogitator and theporcelain-tiled floor. Sterile steel plating encased the lowerhalf of thewalls,andacomplexnetworkofribbedpipeworkhungfromtheceiling,ventingoccasionalgustsofammoniacsteam.Hundredsofglassekcylinders,eachlargeenoughtocontainahumanbeing,linedthe upper reaches of the roof space, suspended onmechanised arms that could rotate them to thefloor.Koskinenrememberedfloatinginoneofthesefluid-filledtanksafterthebattlewiththetyranidsonBetaFortanis,purginghisfloodstreamofdiscardeddataandManifoldjunk.

Itwasnotapleasantmemory,forsuchpurgeswerenotpainlessprocedures.PacingthelengthofthemedicaetemplumwasEliasHärkin,whosepathogenically-ravagedframe

wascompletelyencasedinalatticeworkexoskeletonofbrassandsilver.Hisshavenskullwasredandblackwithacompletecoveringofwoad-markings;jaggedwolf-tails,bloodiedfangsandslittedeyesinthedarkness.Atrophiedfacialmusclestwitchedastheelectrodestimulatorsthatcompensatedforhiscerebrovascularimpairmentandallowedhimtospeakfiredaseriesoftestsignals.Likemostprinceps,Härkin loathed being removed fromVilka, andhis artificially-motivated bodymovedwith a stilted,hunched-overgait,notunliketheWarhoundhepiloted.

Asaprincepshewasagod,asamortalhewascripple.Thepressuriseddoorslidopen,andtheSkinwalkerentered.TheyoungestprincepsofLegioSirius,

Gunnar Vintras wore his silver hair shaven tight to the skull and his dress uniformwas crisp andpressedasthoughabouttoattendaLegiofunction.Acurvedpowersabreonaplatinumchainhungathiship,andhecarriedagold-chasedboltpistolinathighholster.

‘Nice of you to show up,’ said Härkin, his dysarthria rendered intelligible by the fibre-bundlemuscles,thoughstilldistorted.

‘Nice to see you too, Elias,’ said Vintras, taking a seat at the central cogitator bank. ‘When theMoonsorrowcallsapack-meet,Icomerunning.’

‘Themeetbeganthirtyminutesago,’saidHärkin.Vintrasshruggedandsprangfromhisseatasthoughalreadyboredwithsittingdown.‘Ittakestimetodressthiswell,’hesaid,straighteninghisuniformjacketandbrushinganinvisible

speckofdust fromhisshoulderepaulettes. ‘Ofcourse,youhaveyourcyber-groomsdressyou,don’tyou?Theydothebestwithwhattheyhave,I’msure.’

‘PrincepsLuthisn’tdead,youknow?’saidKoskinen,angeredbyVintras’sposturing.Vintrascircledthecogitatorstostandbeforehim,andKoskinenwishedhehadn’tspoken.Tobea

moderatiaboardaWarlordTitanwasapositionofgreathonour,butanyprinceps–evenaWarhoundprinceps–outrankedhimandhadthepowertoendhislife.

‘What’sthis,amoderatigettingabovehisstation?’saidVintras,leaningoverKoskinenandbaringteethfiledtosharpenedfangs.‘Careful,littleman,beforethisbigbadwolftearsoutyourthroat.’

+Leave the boy alone, Vintras,+ said a sharp-toothed voice from the augmitter mounted onSkálmöld’scasket.+Heseesthatyoucometoapack-meetdressedforafuneral.+

‘Apologies,Moonsorrow,’saidVintras,backingoffwithaferalgrin.‘Iawaityourword.’‘Right,we’reallherenow,Skálmöld,’gruntedHärkin,hisexoskeletonwheezingandclickingashe

resumedhispacing.‘Whatisityouwantfromus?’+YouknowwhatIwant.Command.Luthisaspentforce.Histimeisover.MineisupontheLegio.

Youallknowthis.+NooneansweredtheMoonsorrow.KoskinenandHyrdrithhadexpectedthis,buttohear itsaid

out loud, so boldly before the rest of the Legio, was still a shock. Looking around the medicae-templum, Koskinen realised that no one wanted Skálmöld in command. The pack dynamic was areflection of the alpha, and Skálmöld’s cold heart would eventually come to dominate the enginesunder his command and turn them from co-operative hunters to vicious predators.Härkin lookedappalledatSkálmöld’spresumption,andevenVintraslookeduneasyatthisdevelopment,thoughhemustsurelyhaveseenitcoming.

‘PrincepsLuthhasyettowake,’saidHärkin.+Andwhenhedoes,cananyoneheresayhewillnotdreamofoldwarsandturnhisgunsonapack

brotheroncemore?+Koskinenwanted tospeak inLuth’sdefence,but theMagosBiologishad foundnocause forhis

wakingnightmareandcouldoffernoguaranteesthatsuchapsychoticbreakwouldnothappenagain.Skálmöldspokenothingbutthetruth,butitstillrankledKoskinen’ssenseof justicethattheReaverprincepswaswrestingpackleadershipwhilethealphacouldnotdefendhisposition.

‘Command authority has to be granted by the Oldbloods,’ said PrincepsHärkin, in a last-ditchattempttoinvokeLegioprotocol.

+TheOldbloodsarenothere.Weare.Iam.TheWintersunturnedhisgunsonabrotherwarrior.Thereisnogreatercrimeagainstthepack.Whydoyouevenargue,Ironwoad?IamtheMoonsorrowandyouarenotmyequal.+

Härkinbowedinaclatterofexo-joints.‘Youareseniorpack,Moonsorrow.’+Thenthematterisdonewith,+saidSkálmöld.+IamAlphaPrinceps.++No.+Koskinenjumpedatthesoundissuingfromthecasketbesidehim.PrincepsArloLuthfloatedto

theglass,hisbulbous,elongatedskullstillrawfromthenumerousinvasivesurgerieshehadrecentlyundergone.ThecablesthatconnectedhimtotheManifoldwereabsent,andthethreadedsocketsinhischestandspinegapedlikesteel-edgedwounds.Greenlightsflickeredatthefrontofthecasket,andKoskinensawHyrdrithwithdrawasurreptitiousdata-plug.

+IamtheWintersun,andyouarenotmyequal.+

TheValetteManifoldstationhunginthedarknessofthesystem’sedgelikeapatientarachnidwaitingforunwarypreytobecometrappedinitsweb.Itsbulbouscentralsectionwasdarkandglossywithice,andnumerousslenderlimbsextendedfromitsgentlyrotatingcentralhub;manipulatorarms,auspex,surveyor equipment, monitoring augurs and psi-conduits. Though still hundreds of thousands ofkilometresaway,theSperanza’sprow-mountedpict-feedsbroughtitsimageintoperfectfocus.

AreverenthushheldswayontheSperanza’scommanddeck.AsthelastplacetohavereceivedwordfromMagosTelok,theValetteManifoldstationwasaholyplaceandmemorialallinone.Noneofthegatheredmagi failed to recognise the significance in coming here before attempting to breach theHaloScar.

MagosAzuramagellimaintainedtheircourseandmonitoredthegradualincreaseinenginepoweras work continued to repair the damaged plasma combustion chamber. The loss of so many ofSaiixek’s bondsmen had proved inconvenient, but with the addition of numerous work gangs ofservitorsfromthedrainedrefineryvessels,theexpecteddipinproductivityandefficiencywasprovingtobelessthanthemagosofengineeringhadfeared.Atthefarthestedgeofthedeck,LinyaTychonandherfatherworkedatanastrogationhub,manipulatingapairoffour-dimensionalmaps.

MagosBlaylockkeptstationbesidethecommandthrone,processingtheship’sinputsandallowingKotov to maintain communion with the Speranza. The Ark Mechanicus was still skittish after theincidentwith the Titans, and required a light touch to keep its systems appeased.Much ofKotov’scognitivepowerwasdirected inhealingthespiritualwoundsdoneto thestarshipandregaining itsunequivocaltrust.Muchofthesituationalknowledgestreamhewouldprocessatasubconsciouslevel,hewasforcedtodelegatetohissubordinatesandlearnsecond-hand.

‘Anyresponsetoourbinaryhailsyet?’askedKotov.‘No,archmagos,’repliedBlaylock,siftingthroughtheaccumulateddatainloadingfromtheirscans

ofthedarkenedstation.‘Wecontinuetoberebuffed.’‘AnditsManifoldstillwon’tacceptcommunion?’‘Itwillnot,’agreedBlaylock.‘Itismostperplexing.’Kotov took amoment to study thedistant station, itsmass adeeperdark against theprismatic

stainoftheHaloScarbeyondthecoronaofthesystemsun’slight.Hehadstudiedtheanomalyattheedgeof thegalaxy extensively, but to actually see it for the first timegavehima strange frissonofexcitementandfear.

EmotionsKotovhadthoughtlongsinceconsignedtohisorganicpast.TheTychonswerecollectingreamsofdataontheuglyphenomenontobettergaugeapaththrough

thegravitational tempestsragingwithin itsnebulousboundary.Theirworkwashighlydetailed,butthe thousands of years of accumulated immatereology statisticswithin theManifold stationwouldgreatly aid their cartographic equations. So far they had received nothing but static in response totheirrepeatedattemptstopersuadethestationtoexloaditsdatatotheSperanza.

YetasfascinatingastheHaloScar’sdeformationofspace-timewas,KotovkeptfindinghisgazedrawnbacktotheManifoldstation.Sixhundredmetreswideatitscentralbulge,andthreehundredmetreshigh,thestationwasamoteinthegalacticwilderness,almostinvisibleinthedarkness.Only

faintstarlightglintingfromtheiceonitshullprovidedanoutline.Glitteringdriftsofreflectivechipshungaround thestation like frozensnowflakes,but thesourceof these tinypiecesoforbitaldebriswasamystery.

AndKotovabhorredmysteriestowhichheknewhewouldfindnoanswer.Ghostlyanddead,thestationheldtruetoitsancientorbit,aprisonerofgravityandphysics.Kotov’smyriadsenses,morethananyunaugmentedmortalcouldhopetounderstandoremploy,

werealertforanysignthattherewasanythingoranyonealiveontheValettestation.Sofartheyhadnotgivenhimanyhopethathewouldfindanyofthedesignatedcrewaliveaboardthestation.

Yetforallthat,Kotovwascertainthattherewassomethingonthatstationthatwaslookingbackatthem,watchingthem,studyingthem...

‘Timetointercept?’hesaid,throwingofftheridiculouslyorganicnotionofbeingobserved.‘Threehours, fifteenminutes,archmagos,’ repliedAzuramagelli,shiftinghisexo-bodyacrossthe

bridgetoasecondastrogationhub.Spindle-likemanipulatorarmsextrudedfromtheundersideofhisexo-armaturebodyanddrewoutaphysicalkeyboard.

‘Aproblem,Azuramagelli?’TwoofAzuramagelli’sbrainjarsswivelledintheirmountsasheanswered.‘Unknown,’repliedAzuramagelli. ‘Eversincewedroppedoutofthewarp,therearauspexeshave

beenpickingupanintermittentcontact.NothingIcanfixupon,butitiscurious.’‘Whatdoyoubelieveittobe?Anothership?’‘Most likely it is residual warp interference or a side-effect of our recent troubles,’ said

Azuramagelli,hismanipulatorarmsfine-tuningthehazyauspeximagebeforehim.‘But,yes,Isupposeitcouldbeaship.’

‘MightitbetheHonourBlade?’‘Idonotbelieveso,thoughthepresenceoftheHaloScaronthefaredgeofthesystemismaking

accurate readings difficult. Perhaps with access to the primary astrogation hub I might obtain acleareranswerforyou,archmagos.’

KotovignoredthejibeattheTychonsandsaid,‘Keepwatchonyourghostreadingsandinformmeofanydevelopments.’

Azuramagelli’sbrainjarsturnedaway,andKotovheardthearmouredgatetothecommanddeckslide down into the polished floor. He read the biometrics of Roboute Surcouf, and swivelled hiscommandthronetofacetheroguetrader.

The man had answered Kotov’s summons in a loose Naval storm coat, grey in colour, withdiscolourationwhererankpatcheshadbeentornoff.Darktrousersweretuckedintoknee-highbrownboots,and indeference tohishostsandskitarii escort,hehad lefthis thighholsterempty.Surcoufstrolled onto the upper tier and took amoment to look around, his gaze lingering a fraction of asecondlongeronMistressTychonthananyotheraspectofthecommanddeck.

Elevatedheartrate,pupillarydilation,increasedhormonalresponse.SurelythecaptaindidnotharbouramorousthoughtstowardsamemberoftheCultMechanicus?

Theideawasludicrous.Kotovdismissedtheman’sfoolishnessandsaid, ‘Welcometothecommanddeck,captain.Thank

youforattendinguponme.’‘Notaproblem,’saidSurcouf.‘I’lladmit,Iwaslookingforwardtoseeingthebridgeofthisshipof

yours.PavelkaandSylkwoodwantedtocomewithme,butthey’rebusyhelpingMagosSaiixekdownintheengineeringdecksjustnow.’

‘Andwhatdoyoumakeofmycommanddeck?’inquiredKotov.‘Itisquitesomething,isitnot?’‘Ihavetoadmit,it’salittleunderwhelming,’saidSurcoufatlast.Kotovfelttherumbleoftheslightedshipwithinhim,butquelleditasunderstandingdawned.Howeasyitwastoforgetthelimitationsofmortals!‘Ofcourse,’saidKotov.‘Youarenotnoosphericallyenabled.’‘NotunlessI’mpluggedin.’‘ItookitforgrantedthatyoucouldseeasIsee.’‘Nevertakeanythingforgranted,’saidSurcouf.‘That’swhenyoustartmakingmistakes.’Irritated at being lectured to by a lesser mortal, Kotov made a complex haptic gesture, and a

contouredbucketseatemergedfromanirisingdeckplatebesidetheroguetrader.Surcoufsweptasidethetailsofhis longcoatandsatdown,unspoolingathinlengthofinsulatedcablefromtheconcaveheadrest.Takingamomenttofindthesocketunderhishairatthenapeofhisneck,Surcoufslottedhome the connector rods and engaged the communion clamp. His body twitched with the systemshockofsuddeninload,butherelaxedwiththequickeaseofanexperiencedspacefarer.

‘Ah,’hesaid.‘NowIsee.Yes,veryimpressive,archmagos.’‘WearealmostattheHaloScar,’saidKotov.‘Areyoustillconfidentyoucanguideusontheother

side?’‘Ihavethedatawaferwiththeastrogationdata,don’tI?’‘Soyouclaim,butIhaveyettoseeanythingfurtheronitsveracity.’‘Thenyou’lljusthavetotrustme,’saidSurcouf,noddingtowardsthemaincascadedisplay.‘Isthat

theManifoldstation?’‘Itisindeed,’Kotovsaid.‘Andthat’sthelastplacetohaveheardfromTelok?’‘Iassumedyouwouldalreadyknowsuchinformation.’‘I’vedonemyreading,’saidSurcouf.‘IthoughttheValettestationwasstillfunctional.’‘Thatisourcurrentunderstanding.’Surcoufshookhishead.‘Thatthingdoesn’tlooklikeit’sbeenfunctionalinalongtime.’‘Youarecorrect,’saidKotov.‘Allemanationsindicatethatthefacilityhasgoneintohibernation.’‘Doyouknowwhy?’‘Notyet,butwewillsoon.’‘Itlookslikeaspacehulk,’saidSurcouf,makingthesignoftheaquilaacrosshischest.‘Superstition,captain?’‘Commonsense.’‘Iassureyou,thereisnothinguntowardaboardtheManifoldstation.’‘Howcanyoubesure?’‘Oursurveyorsarepickingupnothingtosuggestanysourceofthreat.’

Surcoufthoughtforamoment.‘Didthestationhaveacrew?’‘No need for the past tense, captain,’ said Kotov. ‘The station is manned by a magos, five

technomats,atroikaofastropathsandademi-cohortofservitors.’‘Whenwasthelasttimeanyonecameoutheretochecktheywerestillalive?’‘The last contact with the Valette station was eighty standard Terran years ago, when Magos

Paracelsuswas routed from forgeworldGraia to relieveMagosHaephaestus as part of the routinecycleofcommand.Paracelsusexloadedhisdocketofarrivalasscheduled.’

‘IassumeHaephaestusreturnedtoGraia?’Kotov hesitated before replying, once again checking the parity of information in his own

repositorywiththatoftheSperanza.‘Unknown,’ he said at last, loath to make such an admission. ‘Records concerning the magi

subsequenttotheirpostingstoValetteareincomplete.’‘Incomplete?’saidSurcouf.‘Youmeanyoudon’tknowwhathappenedtoanyofthem?’‘Inagalactic-widearenaofinformationitisnotunknownforsomedatatobe...lostintransit.’‘Emilwould love to hear you say that,’ said Surcoufwith awide grin. ‘So, youdon’t knowwhat

happened toHaephaestus or the previous incumbents, and you don’t knowwhat’s been happeningsinceParacelsusgothere.’

‘Ibegintotireofyourconstantquestioningofourdata,CaptainSurcouf,’saidKotov.‘AndI’mbeginningtotireofyoukeepingthingsfromme,’retortedSurcouf. ‘Ifthere’sacrewon

that station, why aren’t they responding? If everything’s fine over there, why are youmoving yourescortsintoanattackformation?Youdidn’tthinkI’dnoticethat?Please...’

‘Simplybasicprecautions,captain,’saidKotov.‘Letmegiveyouafreepieceofadvice,archmagos,’saidSurcouf.‘NeverplayEmilNaderatKnights

andKnaves.’‘Clarification:Idonotunderstandtherelevanceofyourlastremark.’‘Becauseyou’realousyliar,LexellKotov,’saidSurcouf.‘YouknowaswellasIdothatsomething’s

notrightwiththatstation.Somethingisverymuchoutoftheordinary,andyoudon’tknowwhatitis,doyou?’

‘The situation aboard the Manifold station is unknown at present,’ agreed Kotov. ‘But when IexplorethestationIamconfidentthatlogicalanswerswillpresentthemselves.’

‘You’regoingtoboardthatthing?’saidSurcouf.‘Iamanexplorator,’saidKotov.‘ItiswhatIdo.’‘Ratheryouthanme.’‘Iassureyouthereisnodanger.’Surcouflookedbackupatthescreen,andtheimageofthepatientarachnidreturnedtoKotovas

theroguetradermadethesignoftheaquilaonceagain.‘I’dtakethoseBlackTemplarswithyou,’saidSurcouf.‘Justincaseyou’rewrong.’

Despitethewholesalemurderofthousandsofbondsmen,verylittlechangedintheroutineofthemen

and women below decks. Fresh meat was skimmed from the other shifts, and the numbers inAbrehem,HawkeandCoyne’sshiftgroupwerebulkedoutbycybernetics.Scoresofheavily-muscledservitorsjoinedtheirranks,silentandglassyeyedastheycarriedouttheirorderswithoutcomplaintandwithoutthoughtsofdissent.

Rumoursofwhathadhappenedinthelowerdecksspreadaroundthevariousshiftslikeadoseofthepox,asdidthemiracleof theirsmallgroup’ssurvival.Abrehemsawmenandwomenlookingathimstrangely,and it tookHawketopointout tohimthat theywere inaweofhim. Ithadbeenhiswarningthathadsavedthefourofthem,andwordhadgonearoundthathewasMachine-touched,asecretprophetoftheOmnissiahwhocarrieditsblessingtotheleastofitsservants.

Soonhe began finding trinkets fashioned from scavenged junk, gifts of food orwater andbac-sticks leftbyhisbunk.At firsthe tried to refusesuchofferings,buthiseveryattempt toplaydownwhathe’ddoneinthereclamationchamberonlyseemedtoenhancehisreputation.

‘But I’m not Machine-touched,’ he complained to his companions one night as they sat in thecrowded feedinghall and spooned yetmore tasteless gruel into their soft-gummedmouths.Wherebefore the only sounds in the giant chamber had been the slop of nutrient broth and the clatter ofplasticspoons,nowalowhubbubofreverentwhisperingbubbledjustbelowthesurface.

‘Howdo you know?’ askedHawke. ‘Only the truly divinedeny their divinity. Isn’t thatwhat theBookofThorsays?’

BothCoyneandAbrehemgaveHawkeasidelonglook.EvenCrushalookedsurprised.‘Ididn’ttakeyouforareligiousman,Hawke,’saidAbrehem.Hawkeshrugged.‘I’mnotnormallyoneforprayersandthelike,butit’salwaysgoodtoknowwhoI

needtohollerforwhenI’mintrouble.Youknow,justincasethey’relistening.AndIalwayslikedthestory of SebastianThor.He stoodup to rich bully boys and started a landslide that toppled aHighLord.Igotasoftspotforthosekindsofstories.’

‘It’smorethanastory,’saidCoyne.‘It’sscripture.It’sgottobetrue.’‘Why?Becauseyoureaditinabookorsomefatpreachertoldittoyouwhenyouwerealittleboy?

Evenifitdidreallyhappen,itwassolongagothatitmightaswellbemadeup.Youknow,Iusedtolove hearing the stories in the templum about the Emperor’s armies conquering the galaxy andfightingtheirenemieswithflamingboltgunsandrawcourage.IusedtopretendIwasahero,andI’drun all over the scholam grounds with a wooden sword conquering it like I was Macharius orsomething.’

‘I’ve seen him,’ said Abrehem. ‘In the processional at the Founding Fields there’s a statue ofMachariusandLysander.Nooffence,Hawke,butyou’retoodamnuglytobeawarmaster.’

‘Andyou’renobeautifulSejanus,’grinnedHawke.Abrehemforceda smile inagreement.Between them, they’d lostnumerous teethand their skin

hadagritty,parchment-yellowtexturetoit.Abrehem’shair,hisyouthfulprideandjoy,hadbeguntofalloutinlumps,soasagroupthey’dtakenthedecisiontoshavetheirscalpsbare.IftheMechanicuswantedthemtobeidenticaldrones,thenthat’swhattheywouldget.

‘ButthatwaswhenIwasaboy,’continuedHawke.‘IusedtothinktheEmperorandHissonswerewatchingoverus,butthenIgrewupandrealisedthatthereweren’tnobodylookingoutforme.The

onlypersonthatlooksoutforHawkeisHawke.’‘Comeon,’saidAbrehem,pushingawayhistray.‘Let’sgetadrink.’‘BestideaI’veheardallday,’saidCoyne,andthefourofthemrosefromthetable,headingforthe

crampedpassagewaysthatledtoHawke’sconcealedstill.Thedecompressionofthelowerdeckshadn’ttouchedthestrangechamber,andHawkeclaimeditwasasignthattheOmnissiahwashappyforhimtokeepupproductionandmakeatidyprofitalongtheway.

Headsbowed,andAbrehemheardmutteredprayersastheypassed.Emaciatedhandsreachedouttobrushhiscoverallsashewentbyandhetriednottolookatthemenandwomenwhostaredathimwithsomethinghe’dlongagoforsaken.

Hope.Thankfully,theypassedoutofthefeedinghallandintothepassagewaysthatthreadedtheheavy

bulkheadsandmyriadwork-chambersoftheengineeringdeck.Wallsofblackironthatdrippedwithhotoilandhissedwithmoistexhalationsenfoldedthem.Thegloomwasawelcomerespitefromthestarkglareoftheirworkspaces.Hawkeledtheway,thoughheprofessednevertoknowtheroutetothestill.Abrehemhad longagogivenup trying tomemorise their route. It seemed tochangeeveryday,butnomatterhowmanytwistsandturnstheymade,theirstepsalwaysunerringlycarriedthemtothearchedchamberthatlookedmorelikeatombthemoretheyvisitedit.

‘Whatthe...?’saidHawkeasheroundedthelastcorner.Theyweren’tthefirsttocomeheretonight.IsmaeldeRoevenstoodat theendof thehexagonal-tiledpathway that endedat theblocked-off

wallcoveredwiththeobscuredstencilling.Theservitorhadhisarmextendedandhispalmrestedonthe wall. Abrehem’s optics registered a fleeting glimpse of hissing code from behind the wall, awhisperingbinarysourcethatretreatedtheinstantitbecameawareofAbrehem’sscrutiny.

‘What’shedoinghere?’wonderedCoyne.‘DamnedifIknow,’answeredHawke.‘ButIdon’tlikeit.’‘Ismael?’saidAbrehem,approachingtheservitorcreatedfromtheirformeroverseer.Overathird

oftheirshiftwasnowmadeupofcybernetics,andAbrehemhadbeenabsurdlyrelievedtofindthatIsmaelhadnotperishedintheventingofthelowerdecks.Foranotherpieceofhometohavesurvivedalongwiththefourofthemfeltlikeanomen,butofwhathewasn’tsosure.

CoynesnappedhisfingersinfrontofIsmael’seyes,buttheservitordidn’treact.Fatdropletsfellfromthepipeworkaboveandpatteredinadrizzlefromthetopofhisgleamingskull.

‘It’s likehe’scrying,’saidAbrehem,wincingashesawtheconcaveimpactdamageintheplatingcovering the left side of the servitor’s head. Ismael might have survived the trauma of explosivedecompression,buthehadn’tescapeditwithoutinjury.

‘Servitorsdon’tcry,’saidHawke,angrynow.‘Comeon,gethimoutofhere.’‘He’snotdoinganyharm,’saidAbrehem.‘Yeah,butifsomeonenoticeshe’smissingandcomeslookingforhim,they’llfindallthis.’Abrehemnodded,acceptingHawke’slogic.‘Fine,’hesaid.‘I’llgethimbacktothefeedinghall.’Hereacheduptolowertheservitor’sarm.IsmaelturnedhisheadtowardsAbrehem.

Hisfacewaslinedwithblackstreaksofoilandlubricant,andAbrehemdrewinashockedbreathashesawanexpressionofconfusionanddespairetchedthere.

Ismaelheldouthisarm,andthesub-dermalelectooshimmeredtothesurfaceoftheskin.‘Savickas...?’hesaid.

Microcontent15

Somethingclangedagainst the fuselageof theBarisanandHawkins triednot to imagineapieceofspace-borne debris smashing through and killing them all. He’d heard the horror stories of fastmovingtrans-atmosphericcraftstrikingpiecesoforbitaldebrisandbeingtornapartinaheartbeat,and tried to push them from crowding his thoughts. It was all right for the Templars, locked inrestraint harnesses and sealed in their heavy, self-sufficient plate armour. They’d survivedecompression,butthesixteenmenofthe71stwouldn’tbesolucky.

Eveninbulkyhostileenvironmentsuits, theCadianGuardsmenweretooslighttobesecuredinthe Thunderhawk’s crew seats, andwere forced to endure the flight holding onto heavy bulkheads,support stanchions and vacant harness buckles to keep from being thrown around the crewcompartment.PenetratingtheSperanza’sneutronenvelopemadeforabumpyride,andHawkinsfelthisteethrattlingaroundhisjawasanotherroguegravitywaveslammedthemtotheside.

Theriptidegraviometric fields thatsurroundedtheSperanzamade it impossible todockdirectlywith the Valette Manifold station, so here they were riding the Barisan through the buffetingturbulencewithKulGilad’sSpaceMarines,ArchmagosKotovandhispraetoriansquadoffiveskitarii.Though Cadian officers were used to leading from the front, it surprised Hawkins that such acommandethicshouldbepartoftheMechanicusmindset.

Metal clangingbounced along theThunderhawk’s topside andHawkins instinctively ducked, asthoughexpectingtherooftopeelbacklikethetopofarationcan.

‘Youallright,captain?’askedLieutenantRae,whoseemedtobeenjoyinghimselfimmensely.‘Damn, I hate aerial insertions,’ he said. ‘Leave that kindof stupidity to theElysians.Givemea

bouncingChimeraanyday.’‘Aye,sir,’saidRae.‘I’llremindyouofthatnexttimewe’rechargingintoenemyfireinthebackof

Zura’sLance.Idon’treckonthere’sanygoodwaytoputyourselfinharm’sway.’‘Isupposenot,’saidHawkins,watchingthebattereddisplayatthefrontofthecompartment.The

cracklingscreenrelayedthepict-feedfromthecockpit,andHawkinssawtheglossy,ice-slickbulgeoftheManifoldstationdrawingnearer, itsmultipleextendedsparsofmetal reachingupandpast thepicter’s fieldofview.Hawkinsheld tight tohisstanchionas thepilotbanked toavoidaparticularly

large panel of scorchedmetal. Starlight glinted from its surfaces, and Hawkins saw some kind ofpaintedglyph;agrinningmawwithtwoenormoustusks,butitspunawaybeforehecouldbesureofwhatitwas.

‘Wasthat...?’saidRae.‘Ithinkitwas,’saidHawkins.ThehulkingmassoftheManifoldstationslidtoonesideasthepilotbroughttheminside-on.‘Herewego,’saidHawkinsasthesoundofmetalscrapingonmetalcamethroughthefuselage,the

gropingofanautomateddockingclampasitsoughtpurchaseonthesideoftheBarisan.Theinteriorofthegunshipchangedinaninstant.OneminutetheSpaceMarineswereimmobile,seatedstatues,thenext theywereup andarranged fordeployment.Hawkinshadn’t evennoticed it happen.Theirarmourwasbigandbulky,evenmoresowhenyouwerecrammednexttoitinafullyladengunship.The plates gave off amuted hum of power and therewas a faint suggestion of ozone and lappingpowder.

OneoftheSpaceMarineslookeddownathim,thebulkywarriorwithawhitelaurelcarvedaroundthebrowofhishelm.Hawkinssketchedhimaquicksalute.TheTemplarhesitated,thengavehimacurtnod.

‘Fightwell,Guardsman,’saidthewarriorwithclumsycamaraderie.‘That’stheonlywayCadiansfight,’herepliedasthelightabovetheThunderhawk’ssidedoorbegan

flashingawarningamber.‘Wait,areyouexpectingtofight?’‘TheEmperor’sChampionalwaysexpectstofight,’saidthewarrior, looseningthestrapsholding

hisenormousswordfasttohisshoulder.Hissingplumesofequalisinggasesribbonedfromthedoorseals,andHawkins felthisearspop

andthemetalpinsinhisrepairedshouldertingle.Thearmouredpanelslidbacktorevealanumbilicalwithasteeldeckingfloorandaribbed,plasflexcorridor.Attheendofthecorridorwasafrost-rimeddoor that drippedwater that had last been liquidmillions of years ago. The SpaceMarinesmovedalongtheumbilicalinsinglefile,thoughitwaseasilywideenoughforthreeofthemtostandabreast.Theymovedwithshort,economicalstrides,boltersheldlooselyattheirhips.

Hawkins choppedhishand left and right, anddroppeddown into theumbilical, feeling it swayalarminglyunderfoot.IthadlookedutterlysteadywhentheSpaceMarinestraversedit.Withhisriflepulledintighttohisshoulder,Hawkinsadvancedalongtheumbilicalwithasquadofsoldiersstrungoutbehindhimtoeitherside.

Hemovedtothefrontoftheumbilical,feelingthecoldradiatingfromthebareblackstructureoftheManifoldstation.Theironworkwaspockedwithmicro-impacts,andcondensingairghostedfromthemetal.Abroadairlockbarredentrytothestationandashieldedhousingconcealedanoversizedkeypadandanumberof inputports.KulGilad looked ready to tear thedoor from itshousing, butArchmagosKotovhaddecreedalessforcefulentry.

Thearchmagossweptalongtheumbilicalwithhisredcloakofinterleavedscalesbillowingbehindhim.Hisautomatonbodywasperfectlysculptedincrimson, likeatemplumstatuecometo life,andhis steelhandgripped thehiltofhis sheathedsword tightly.Behinda shimmeringenergy field,hissoftfeaturesweresaggingandjowly,likeanoldgeneralwhohasspenttoomuchtimefromthefront

line.YethiseyeswerethoseofavirginWhiteshieldwhenthelas-roundsstartflying.‘Youcanaffectanentry?’askedKulGilad.‘I can,’ said the archmagos, reaching out to touch the cold metal with his smooth black hand.

Unprotectedskinwouldhavebeenstrippedfromhisflesh,butKotovgaveasighofpleasure,asifhewere touching the smooth curvesof a lovedone. Long secondspassedanda recessedpanel slidupbesidethedoor.Instantly,theSpaceMarineshadtheirbolterslevelled,andHawkinswasgratifiedtofindthathisownmen’sweaponsweren’tfarbehindthem.

‘This is the Valette Manifold station, sovereign property of the Adeptus Mechanicus,’ said anartificiallymodulatedvoice.‘Presentvalidentrycredentialsorwithdrawandawaitcensure.’

Theimageonthepictscreenwasbadlydegradedandchoppedwithstatic,butwasclearlyahoodedtech-priestwithaquartetofsilver-litoptics.

‘Isthatarealperson?’askedHawkins,hisfingertighteningonthetriggerhousingofhislasrifle.‘Once,’ said Kotov. ‘It is a recording made a long time ago. An automated response to an

unexpectedattemptatentry.’‘Doesthatmeanthestationisawareofusnow?’saidKulGilad.A light flickered behind Kotov’s eyes. ‘No, this is just a perimeter system, not the central data

engine.Theschemataforthisstationindicatethatitscoreadministrativefunctionswerecontrolledbyaheuristicbio-organiccyberneticintelligence.’

‘Athinkingmachine?’saidKulGilad.‘Certainly not,’ saidKotov, the idea abhorrent. ‘Simply a cogitatingmachine that could have its

functionssituationallyenhancedwiththeadditionoflinkedcerebralcortexestoitsneuromatrix.’‘Sothisisanelementofthat?’saidHawkins.‘Inthesamewaythatyourhandisapartofyou,CaptainHawkins,butitisnotyou.Norisitaware

on any level of the greater whole of which it is part. In truth, such machines are rare now; theiremploymentfelloutoffavourmanycenturiesago.’

‘Whywasthat?’askedHawkins.‘Themachine’sartificialneuromatrixoftendevelopedareluctancetoallowthelinkedcortexesto

disengageanddiminish itscapacity.Thetech-priestscouldnotbeunpluggedwithoutcausingthemirreparable mental damage. And if left connected too long, the gestalt machine entity developedaberrantpsychologicalbehaviourpatterns.’

‘Youmeantheywentmad?’‘Asimplisticwayofputtingit,butinessence,yes.’‘I’mthinkingthat’sthekindofinformationthatmighthavebeenworthincludinginthebriefing

docketsforthismission,’saidHawkins.Kotovshookhishead.‘Therewasnoneed.TheFabricatorGeneralissuedadecreesixhundredand

fifty-sixyearsagostatingthatallsuchmachinesweretohavetheirlinkingcapacitydeactivated.Onlythemostbasicautonomicfunctionsarepermittednow.’

‘Soifwegetthisdooropen,willitrousethestationfromhibernation?’askedtheReclusiarch.‘Thatratherdependsonhowweopenit,’saidKotov,kneelingbythepanelandslidingtheshieldto

oneside.Anumberofwiresextendedfromhisfingertips,insertingthemselvesintothesocketsbeside

thekeypad.Hawkinswatched thearchmagosatwork, the fingersofhis freehanddancingover thekeypad,toofasttofollowasheenteredhundredsofnumbersinanever-expandingsequence.

‘Itappearsthecentraldataengineisstilldormant,’saidKotov.‘ItwillremainsounlesswemakeamoredirectinterferencewiththeManifoldstation’ssystems.’

‘Canyougetusinornot?’askedSergeantTanna,movingtowardsthedoor.Kotovwithdrewhisdigitaldendritesandstoodbackwithasatisfiedsmile.‘Welcome,ArchmagosLexellKotov,’saidthestatic-fringedimageofthesilver-eyedtech-priest.Aboomingclangofheavymag-locksdisengagingsoundedfromdeepinsidethedoor,anditslidup

into its housing. Dangling punch-card prayer strips attached to its base fluttered in the pressuredifferential,butitwascleartherewasatmospherewithinthestation.Staleandfusty,butbreathable.

TheReclusiarchwasfirstthroughthedoor,thevastbulkofhisTerminatorarmourforcinghimtoanglehisbody.TannaandtherestoftheSpaceMarineswentinafterhim,followedbyKotovandhisretinueofcombat-enhancedwarriors.Hawkinssteppedintothestation,feelingashiverofcoldtravelthelengthofhisspineashisbootsclangedonthemetalgrillefloor.

The airlock vestibule was a vaulted antechamber with dulled stained-glass orison panels andhoodedfiguressetwithindeeprecessesinthebaremetalwalls;ironstatuesoftech-priestsdrapedinicicles.Alumen-stripontheceilingsparkedandstruggledtoignite,butsucceededonlyinflickeringon and off at irregular intervals. Another pict screen burbled to life, and the familiar voice of therecordedtech-priestspokeonceagain.

‘WelcomeaboardtheValetteManifoldstation,ArchmagosKotov.Howcanweassistyoutoday?’‘Howdoesitknowyourname?’saidHawkins.‘I shed data like you shed skin,’ said Kotov. ‘Even a basic system like this can readmy identity

throughmydigitaldendrites.’‘WelcomeaboardtheValetteManifoldstation,ArchmagosKotov,’ repeatedthetech-priest. ‘How

canweassistyoutoday?’‘Idonotrequireyourassistance,’saidKotov.‘Interrogative: do you require us to rouse the higher functions of the central data engine to

facilitateyourpurposeincominghere?’KulGiladshookhisheadandplacedafingertotheliplessmouthofhisskullhelm.‘No,’saidKotov.‘Thatwillnotbenecessary.’‘Asyouwish,archmagos,’saidthecracklingtech-priestbeforefadingintothebackgroundstatic.The skitarii lit their helmet lamps. The stark illumination threw sharply-defined shadows onto

wallsthatwereslickwithdefrostingice.‘Noone’sbeenhereinaverylongtime,’saidRae.‘Eighty years, to be precise, LieutenantRae,’ saidKotov,moving on to thenext doorwithBlack

Templarsflankinghim.Hawkinsfelttherewasmoretothisemptinessthansimplyalackofvisitors;the station felt abandoned, like something broken and left to slowly decay. Droplets of moisturelanded on his helmet, and slithered downhis face.Hewiped them away, and his hand came awaystreakedwithblackoil.

He flicked the oil away and said, ‘Right, keep an eye on our rear. I want to make sure our

exfiltrationrouteisn’tcompromisedifweneedtogetoutofhereinahurry.I’lltakeSquadCreed,Rae,youtakeKell.Watchyourcorners,checkyoursixesandkeepawarybloodyeyeout.Idon’t likethisplace,andIgetthefeelingitdoesn’tlikeusmucheither.’

Hawkinsturnedandfollowedthebobbinglumensoftheskitarii.

The Manifold station’s schemata indicated that its construction took the form of a central hubreserved for power generation,with amain access corridor that travelled the circumference of thestation.Numerous laboratories, librariesand livingquartersbranchedoff thiscentralcorridor,withlevelsaboveandbelowreservedforpersonalresearchspaces,astropathicchambersandmaintenanceworkshops.Theairlocktheyhadbreachedwasinthebulbouscentralsectionandthearchedcorridorbeyondtheairlockledthemoutontothemainaccessroutearoundthestation.

Sixmetreswide,withanarchedceilingandwallsofblackironstampedwithnumericalcodesandimages of the cog-rimmed skull, it curved left and right into darkness. Hawkins spread his menagainstthewalls,keepinghisrifleandhiseyesmatchedastheyscannedtheemptycorridor.Theonlyillumination came from the skitarii’s suit lamps and the fading glow-globes hanging on slendercabling.Thelightsswayedgentlyinthefreshlydisturbedair,andthesoundofdistantlymovingmetalsighedalongthecorridorlikefar-offmoaning.

A broken pict screen came to life on the wall. The silver-eyed tech-priest jumped and squalledthroughthestatic.

‘MagosKotov,mayweassistyouinnavigatingtheValetteManifoldstation?’‘Canyoushutthatdamnthingup?’saidKulGilad.‘Untilweknowwhatwe’redealingwith,Idon’t

wanttoattractanymoreattentionthannecessaryfromthisstation’ssystems.’Kotov nodded and bent to expose a maintenance panel beneath the pict screen. His digital

dendriteswrithedintothemassofwinkinglights,wiresandexposedcopperconnectors.‘MagosKotov,mayweassistyouinnavigatingtheValetteManifoldstation?’repeatedthevoice.‘No,andyouarenottoofferassistanceagainunlessIspecificallyrequestit,’saidKotov,sealingthe

maintenancehatchbehindhim.ThepictscreenwentdarkandHawkinswasthankfultoseeitpowerdown.Eachtimeascreencametolife,itfeltlikethestationwaswatchingthem.

‘Thisway,’saidKotov,gesturingtotheleft.‘Inahundredmetres,therewillbeasetofaccessstairsthatwillallowustoascendtotheupperlevelsandthecontroldeck.’

KulGiladnoddedandmovedonwiththeEmperor’sChampiononhisleftandSergeantTannaonhis right. LeavingRae’smen to secure the airlock vestibule,Hawkins led his squad after the SpaceMarines,alertforanysignsofsomethingamiss.Eventhroughhispaddedenvironmentsuit,thehardairofthestationseemedtoleachthewarmthfromhisbones.Shadowsmovedstrangelyandthelightreflected harshly from frost-limned wall panels. Hawkins didn’t like this place, and his Cadianinstinctsweretellinghimthatsomethingwasverywrong.

Heglancedoveratablankpictscreen,itsglasscrazedbyapowerfulimpact.The screen flickered to life andHawkins almost yelled in surprise, bringing his rifle around as

battlefield-honed reflexes took over. Hemanaged not to pull the trigger, and let out a shuddering

breathasadrenalinedumpedintohissystem.Thesilver-eyedtech-prieststaredathim,butdidn’tsayanything.KotovappearedatHawkins’sside,kneelingbeforethisscreen’smaintenancepanel.‘Whatdidyoudo?’demandedthearchmagos.‘Nothing,’saidHawkins.‘Itjustcameonbyitself.’‘Diditsayanything?’Hawkinsshookhishead,andonceagainthearchmagosdeactivatedthepictscreen.Inthesilence

thatfollowed,Hawkinsheardasquealofmetalfromfartheraroundthecorridor.Beforethesoundhadachancetoecho,sevenSpaceMarineboltweaponswereinstantlytrainedintothedarkness.

‘Dousethoselights!’orderedKulGilad,andinstantlytheskitarii’slampsweresnuffedout.‘Defensive posture,’ ordered Hawkins, shouldering his rifle as he dropped to one knee. ‘Squad

Creed,watchahead.GuardsmanManos,lookforanythingcomingupbehindus.’Thesoundscameagain,athuddingironfootfallandascrapeofmetalonmetal.Hawkinsflipped

downhishelmet’svisorandthehallwaybeforehimwassuddenlysplashedinahazeofemeraldlight,withhisrifle’stargetingreticulepaintingabrightsmearonthecurvedwallaheadofhim.Aphantomshadowwasthrownoutonthedeck.Somethingwasapproachingfromdeeperwithinthestation.Heslippedhisfingeraroundhisrifle’striggerasashapeemergedslowlyfromaroundthearcingcorridor.

The figure was broad-shouldered and moved with a lurching groan of protesting servos. Itsbreathingwasfrothedandheavy,likealabouringbeastofburden.Hawkinslettheairoutofhislungsas he saw an augmented servitor, dragging a mangled leg behind it. A sparking arm swung in arepeatingcircularmotion.Heeasedhistriggerfingerfree.

‘It’sjustaservitor,’saidKotov.‘Standyourmendown,Reclusiarch.’ThegunsoftheBlackTemplarsdidn’twaveramillimetre,andHawkinswasn’tabouttolowerhis

rifleuntiltheydid.Hekepttheaimingreticulecentredovertheservitor’sskull,athickhunkofboneand flesh that seemed to squat on the servitor’s shoulderswithout aneck. Itwashard tomakeoutmuchdetail through theblurrednightsight visor, but there seemed tobe something fundamentallywrongwiththeproportionsoftheservitor’sskull.

‘Putitdown,Tanna,’saidKulGilad.‘No!’criedKotov,buttheignitionofaboltershellfilledthecorridorwithnoiseasTanna’sround

blew the top of the servitor’s skull clear, leaving only a sloshing, blood-filled basin of pulped brainmatter.Thecybernetictookhalfadozenmorestepsbeforeitsstuntedphysiologyfinallyacceptedthatitwasdeadanditcollapsedtothedeck.Itssparkinglegtwitchedandspasmed,stilltryingtomoveitsbodyforwards,andtheoversizedarmfizzedandwhinedasitattemptedtorecreatethemotionsithadbeenmakingwhileitsbearerwasupright.

Kotovandhisskitariisweptdownthecorridortowardsthedownedservitor.‘Donotapproachit,archmagos,’warnedKulGilad.‘Yoursergeantkilledit,Reclusiarch,’snappedKotov.‘Servitorsmaybephysicallyresistantandfeel

nopain,buteventheystruggletobeathreatwithoutahead.’‘That’snotaservitor,’saidKulGilad.Hawkinswavedtwoofhismentocomeforwardswithhim,followingtheBlackTemplarsasthey

escortedArchmagosKotovtowardsthedownedservitor.‘Omnissiah’sbones,’hissedKotov,makingapenitentsymboloftheCogMechanicusoverhischest.

‘Whathashappenedhere?’Atfirst,Hawkinswasn’tsurewhyKotovwasreactingsobadly,butthenhesawtheshredsofskin

thatflappedlooseontheremainsoftheservitor’sskull.KulGiladkneltbesidethecreatureandtookhold of a wide strip of waxen skin. He peeled it back, revealingmuscle, sinew and organic tissue,exactlyaswouldbeexpected

ButHawkins’s eyeswidenedashe finallygrasped thenatureof thecreature’sphysiognomy; thejutting lower jaw and protruding tusks, the battered porcine snout. Hawkins had to fight theingrainedurgetodrawhispistolandputapairofboltroundsinitschesttomakesureitwasdead.

Theservitorwasanork.Flensedof itsgreenhideandclothed inasuturedsheathofhumanskin,butstill recognisablya

greenskinmarauder.Kotovknelt beside theorkandplacedahandon itsmechanisedparts.Writhingnestsof cables

extrudedfromeachofhishandsandfixedthemselvestoitsaugmeticlegandarm.‘GodofAllMachines,inthenameoftheOriginator,theScionandtheMotiveForce,releasethese

spiritsfromtheblasphemyintowhichtheyhavebeenbound.Freethemtoflythegoldenlighttoyourcare,andrenewtheminyourall-knowingwisdomtoreturntous.Inyourmercy,makeitso.’

‘Whatwasthat?’snarledTanna.‘Youfeelpityforthisthing?’‘Forthemachinesgraftedtothisuncleanmonster’sflesh,’saidKotov,turningandnoddingtoone

of the skitarii, who drew a set of cutting tools from his utility pack and bent to the grisly task ofremovingthemachinepartsfromtheork’sbody.

‘I’mguessing it’snotnormal tomakeservitors fromgreenskins,’ saidHawkins,watchingas theskitarii firedupupa shieldedplasma-cutterandbeganstrippingback the flesharound thegraft.Afungalstinkofrottenvegetablematterandscorchedskinfilledthecorridor.Hawkinsfelthimselfgagthroughthefilterofhisrebreather.

‘Whathasbeenhappeninghere,archmagos?’demandedKulGilad.‘Trustme,Reclusiarch, Iwouldknowthat too,’ saidKotov. ‘It isanabominationtograftblessed

machinestosuchnon-humansavages.’Hawkinsheardthedistantrumbleofsomethingpowerfulcomingtolifedeepwithinthestation.

Lightsflickeredonalongthecurveofthewallsandahumofactivatingmachineryrosefrombeneaththemetalgrillesofthedeckplates.

‘Ithinkthestation’swakingup,’hesaid.‘Thiscreature’sdestructionhasalertedthesystemcoretoourpresence,’agreedKotov.‘Weshould

proceedwithallspeedtothecentralcommanddeck.Thestationmaynowperceiveusasattackers.’As if to ram that point home, an armoured blast containment shutter hammered down behind

them,cuttingofftheroutebacktotheairlockvestibule.DullthudsofmetalslammingtogethertoldHawkins that a number of similar shutters were sealing off entire areas of the station from oneanother.Instantly,Hawkins’searfilledwithsquallingburstsofshriekingstatic,andhewrenchedthevox-beadoutwithagruntofpain.

‘Voxisdown,’hecalled.‘Prepareforbattle,’saidKulGilad.‘Kotov,openthatshutter.I’llnotbecutofffromtheBarisan.’Kotov shook his head. ‘The core systems are reviving, Reclusiarch.Only the rankingmagos has

authoritytooverridetheblastcontainmentsystem.’‘YouareanarchmagosoftheAdeptusMechanicus,’snarledKulGilad,pushingKotovtowardsthe

blastshutter.‘Assertyourauthorityandgetthatdooropen.’BeforeKotovcouldmove,anotherpairofpictscreensfuzzedtolife,eachbearingtheimageofthe

tech-priestwiththesilveroptics.Agabbleofbinaricangerspatfromthem,andthemirrorimagesofthetech-priestlookedup,thegleaminglightoftheiropticsnarrowingtofocusedpoints.

‘You have attacked our servants,’ said the tech-priest, shaking his head in disappointment. ‘Wecannotallowthatwhilewestillhaveneedofthem.’

‘That’snotarecording,isit?’saidHawkins.‘No,’repliedKotov.‘Idonotbelieveitis.’

InthelowerreachesoftheManifoldstation,athermalgeneratorspooledupwithanultra-rapidstartcycle, utilising a series of linkedmachines that encircled the station’s inner circumference.Eachoftheselinkedmachineshadbeendevelopedfromtechnologydesignedtorousetheplasmareactorsofbattle Titans to full readiness in the shortest time possible. An almost complete STC discovered byMagos Phlogiston less than half a millennium ago had described the construction of such ‘kick-starters’,but itsmissing fragmentshadcontained the informationrequired topreventsuchdevicesfromdriving their reactors intouncontrolledcriticalmass inamatterof seconds.Thus thedesignswerearchivedinsteadofbeingputintoproduction.

TheValettekick-startersboreallthehallmarksofPhlogiston’srecoveredSTC,butwerefittedwitha series of inhibitors built to a design that no analyticae would find in any forge world’s datarepositoriesoreventhemostcomprehensivedatabasesofOlympusMons.OnlyonesonofMarshadthe nous to craft such devices, and he had destroyed every trace of their design before leaving theboundsofgalacticspace.

WithinninetysecondsofTanna’sboltershot,thepowersystemsfortheValetteManifoldstationwere operating at full efficiency. The fierce thermal reserve coursed around the upper and lowerreachesofthestationwithvirtuallynoheatlossviaaseriesofultra-insulatedpipesthatthreadedthewalls,floorsandceilingslikeacirculatorysystem.

In vaulted chamberswhere the skeleton crew of AdeptusMechanicus tech-priests and servitorshadoncetoiledinservicetotheMachine-God,powernowflowedforaverydifferentpurpose.Ineverylaboratory,libraryandworkshop,thetemperatureswithinthreehundredfluid-filledcryo-casketsroseas their occupants were roused from deep slumber. Controlled current fired through augmentedsynapses, warmed super-efficient blood pumped through flexing veins, and stimulated stratifiedlayersofdeepmuscletissue.

Billowingcloudsof chill air sighed from the threehundredcasketsas icy fluidwasdrainedandvented from their upper tiers in freezing crystalline jets. Glass doors opened and dripping figures

encasedinwebsofcoppercablingandplastictubestooktheirfirstnaturalbreathsinfiftyyears.Ineveryrevivificationspace,apictscreencametolifeandthesilver-eyedtech-priestappeared.‘More intruders have come,’ said the tech-priest in a voice that was an unnatural amalgam of

machinecadencesandoverlappingfleshtones.‘Orders?’gruntedoneof theawokensleepers, itscraniumencased insynapticenhancersand its

neuralpathwayssurgicallyalteredtoallowitameasureofautonomy.‘Killthewarriors,’saidthetech-priest.‘BringustheMechanicuspersonnelalive.’

Hawkins could feelhis heartbeat thudding through theheavy stock of his lasgun.Despite the cold,beadsof sweat formedonhis browandhe fought theurge to lift his visor towipe themclear. Thecorridor was brightly lit now, the shadows banished, but strangely that didn’t make him feel anybetter. The stationwas rousing furtherwith every passing second,with glowing bulbs kept behindwirecagesflashingasthoughsomeemergencywasimminent.Burblingstreamsofbinaryissuedfromspeaker-hornsmountedontheceiling,butwhatmessagetheyimpartedwasamysterytohim.Thevoxwasstilldown,andhe’dbeenunabletoraiseRae’ssquadoranyonebackontheSperanza.

He and his men were arranged in the cover of ironwork buttresses, their lasguns aimedunswervinglydownthecorridor,eachmanreadytofillhisassignedfiresectorwithaslewofcarefullyplaced shots. The Black Templars hadn’t moved since the first signs of the station’s reawakening,bracedlikeimmovablestatueswiththeirweaponslockedattheirhips.

Kotovworkedatapaneltothesideoftheblastshutter,butthestringofbinariccursesandburstsofsparkstoldHawkinsthathewashavinglittlesuccess.Fightingwithyourbacktosomethingsolidwasallwellandgoodwhenyouweredefendingastaticposition,butwhenitcutyouoff fromyoursupportingforcesandyouronlywayout,itwassomethingelseentirely.

HawkinsslidfromcoveranddrewlevelwithKulGilad.‘Wecan’tstayhere,’hesaid.‘Itisagoodposition,’saidtheReclusiarch.‘Enemyforcescannotoutflankus.’‘Areyousure?’saidHawkins.‘Kotovcan’topenthatdoor,butthatdamnmagoswiththesilvereyes

certainlycan.Withoutanylineofretreat,we’reasgoodasdeadifthisfightgoesagainstus.’‘ToadmitdefeatistoblasphemeagainsttheEmperor,’saidKulGilad.‘Really?BecauseIseemtorememberyousayingsomethingaboutdefeatalwaysbeingpossibleand

howrecognisingthatmakesyouagreatwarrior.’‘Isaiditmakesamanfightwithheart.’‘Yeah, well no matter how much heart we have, this position reeks of a last stand, and that’s

somethingCadianofficersprefertoavoidwhereverpossible.IknowyouSpaceMarineslikeyourgloryandheroics,butI’dratherlivethroughthenexthourifthat’sallthesame.’

KulGiladturnedtohim,andtheredeye-lensesofhishelmfixedhimwiththeirsteelyglare.Foramoment,hethoughttheReclusiarchmightstrikehimdownforhistemerity,butthemomentpassedandthegiantSpaceMarineslowlynoddedhisskull-facedhelm.

‘Youareright,’saidKulGilad.‘Wewilltakethefighttotheenemy.’

‘Keepmovingforwards,’saidHawkins.‘That’stheCadianwayofdoingthings.’TheTerminator-cladReclusiarchturnedtoKotovandsaid,‘Archmagos,forgettheshutter,weare

movingon to the central commanddeckas you suggested.Whatever is at theheartof this,wewillmeetitonourterms.’

Kotovnoddedandwithdrewhisdigitaldendritesfromthedoorpanel.‘Thedoorwillnotopenanyway,’saidKotovindisgust.‘Ihavestatusandprotocolonmyside,but

themachinesdonotheedme.Theyareenslavedtothewillofsomethinginhumanandrebuffeverysignifierofmyexaltedrank.’

‘Nomatter,’saidKulGilad.‘Thetimeforsubtletyisover.’‘Goodthingtoo,’saidHawkins.‘Iwasneververygoodatsubtle.’

Microcontent16

WiththeBlackTemplarsinthecentre,andtheCadiansandskitariiontheflanks,theboardersmovedoff down the corridor at speed, and it only took a fewmoments for the wisdom of that choice tobecomeevident.TheblastcontainmentshutterthathadthwartedArchmagosKotovwithdrewintotheceilingwitharumbleofmachinedservos.

AhostofheavilymuscledservitorscraftedfromthesamehideousformastheoneTannahadkilledstoodrevealed.Theywereunmistakablyorks,butwithhumanskingraftedtotheiroversizedbulk.Theeffectwassickeningandterrifyingatthesametime.Likemalformedogryns,theorkishservitorswerearmedwith a varied collectionof energisedblades, cracklingprods andheavymauls. ToHawkins’slasting regret, they didn’t move like servitors, but with the relentless, simian gait of their savagespecies.

‘Movefaster,’orderedKulGilad.‘Weneedtoreachtheupperlevels.Archmagos,howfarawayarethosestairstotheupperdecks?’

‘Fifty-twometres,’saidKotov.‘Thisway!’TheBlackTemplarsmarchedbackwardsinperfectunison,firingathunderousvolleyofbolterfire

backdownthecorridor.Themass-reactivesbarelyhadtimetoarmbeforedetonatingwithinthehardfleshofthegreenskinservitors.Explosionsofmeatandboneeruptedacrossthefrontrankofenemies,gapingwoundsthatwouldreduceamortalbodytobonefragmentsandvaporisedblood,butwhichonlystaggeredtherobustphysiologyof thegreenskins.Ahandful fell,but therestcameonwithoutheedof their losses.Ork resilience and servitor immunity frompainwas combining tomake theseenemies near impossible to put down unless taken apart. Cadian and skitarii fire augmented theshootingoftheSpaceMarines,butitwasthemass-reactivesthatweredoingthebulkofthekilling.

Moving back to a better shooting position, Hawkins fired a three-round burst at the nearestenemy,abrutewithaniron-encasedskullandaseriesofhideoussurgicalsutureszig-zaggingtheirway across its thick features. His shots all struck home, burning through the centremass withouteffect.Anotherdeafeningroarofbolter fireslammedtheservitors,blowing the limbs frommoreofthem.Hawkinsshiftedhisaim,tookabreathandsqueezedthetriggertwice.

His first shot punched through thenasal cavity of the ork, the second vaporised its eyeball and

coredthroughitsskulltothebraincavity.Thehunkoforganicmatterthatanimatedtheorkcookedtoburnedmeatintheenclosedvaultofitscranium,andthecyberneticabominationdroppedwithoutasoundasitsbrainfunctionsweresheared.

‘Andstaydown!’shoutedHawkins,sightingatanotherservitor;onewithasetofenormousbolt-cuttingshears that could lopoffa limbor slice throughaneckwithequal ease.Blastsofbolter firethrew off his aim, and his shots burned chunks of flesh from the ork’s head and left its jawbonehangingloose.

Theorksweredangerouslyclosenow,almostcloseenoughtobringtheirlethaltoolstobear.‘Back,’saidHawkinsasawhippingtraceryofwhite-hotfirelashedthewallsofthecorridorwitha

thunderclap of electrical discharge. The overpressure hurledHawkins to the ground.He rolled andsawaservitorwithanimplantedstatic-chargerunleashanotherblastfromitsad-hocweapon.Apairofskitariiscreamedasthousandsofvoltsburnedthemaliveinsidetheirarmour.

Thelashinglineofbluelightzig-zaggedoverthewidthofthecorridor,arcingacrosstooneoftheSpaceMarines.Thewarriordroppedtohisknees,convulsingashisnervoussystemwentintospasmandhisskinfusedwiththeinnersurfacesofhiswarplate.Thepowerfulenergieswrithedlikeanangrysnake, catching twoofHawkins’smenandripping themapart inanexplosionofboilingbloodandflashburnedorgans.

‘No!’yelledHawkins,scramblingtohisfeetandsightingattheservitor’sslackfeatures.Aflurryofboltershellsstrucktheservitorandtoretheweaponarmfromitsbodyinadetonating

flurryofboneandmachineparts.Asecondbursttoreitsheadoffattheneckandathirdopeneditupfromsternumtogroin.KulGiladabandonedhissteadyretreatandadvancedtowardstheservitors,hisgauntlet-mounted weapon chugging out explosive round after explosive round. His Terminatorarmourmadehimmighty,andhestrucktheservitorslikeawreckingball.TheReclusiarch’senormouspowerfistsweptoutandwhereitstruck,theorkswerepulpedlikeblood-filledbagsorclubbedintobentandbrokenshapesthatcouldn’tpossiblylive.

TheBlackTemplarsfoughtathisside,hisinspirationalslaughterdrivingtheirownaggressionandskill. Chainswords tore open orks sheathed in human skin, and bolt pistols blew out the exposedorgansandbones.TheEmperor’sChampionwadedthroughtheservitors,hismonstrousblackswordcleaving orkflesh with every strike. A cybernetic with a roaring cutting saw came at him, but thechampionduckedbeneaththeweaponandbroughthisbladeuptoshearitsarmsawayattheelbows.Hisreturnblowsplititsskull,andaspinningfollow-onmoveslicedthelegsoutfromanorksnappingathimwithanenergisedcablecutter.

‘Reclusiarch!’shoutedKotov.‘Moreofthembehindus!’Hawkinsturnedtoseeyetmoreservitorscomingfromfartherbackalongthecorridor,twodozen

at least. Like the onesKulGilad and theBlack Templars fought, theywere a hideous confection ofhuman skin and ork physiologymarried toMechanicus technology.Worse, these oneswere armedwithwhat looked like actualweapons.Metallicbangs echoedbehind themas anadvancing servitortriggereditsimplantedriveter.Hawkinsduckedasaclangingseriesofhotboltssmashedintothewallbesidehim,somericochetingdownthecorridor,someembeddingintheplatingwithahissofred-hotmetal.

Tenmetres in frontof the servitors,he saw theentrance to thestairwell, a circular irisdoor setwithin a cog and apparently locked open by rusted bearings. The steady light of functioning glow-globesspilleddownfromabove,andnodoorhadeverlookedsoinviting.

‘Cadians,firingline!’heyelled,turningandrunningforthecentreofthecorridorattheentrancetotheupperlevels.HisremainingGuardsmenranwithhim,droppingtoonekneebesidehimashebroughthisrifleuptohisshoulder. ‘Wetakethemdownoneatatime,lads.We’llstartwiththatbigbastardwiththeriveter!Fire!’

Collimated las-firestabbedoutfromtheCadianrifles,andtheorkservitorslumpedtohiskneeswithhalfitsskullblastedaway.Itshull-repairgunfiredinthecreature’sdeathspasms,hammeringalineofhotrivetsintothedeckplatesandblastingthekneecapfromthecyberneticnexttoit.Aripplingsalvoofshot-cannon,lascarbineandhellgunfireslashedoverhead,andHawkinsriskedaglanceoverhisshouldertoseeKotov’sskitariiaddingthefireoftheirmoreesotericweaponstothefusillade.Thearchmagoshimselffiredalong-barrelledpistolofornamentedbrassthatsentboltsofsearingplasmaintotheadvancinghordes.

‘Right,theorkwiththelas-cutternext,’orderedHawkinswithmorecalmthanhefelt.The servitor dropped withmultiple lasburns searing its neck open and a pressurised squirt of

blood sprayed over thewalls. A second orkwith a hull-plate repair cannon opened fire and one ofHawkin’smengruntedasacylindricalvoidoffleshandbonewaspunchedthroughthecentreofhischest.TheGuardsmanslumped,butHawkinsdidn’tdarestopfiringtoseeiftherewashopeofsavinghim.

‘Wecan’tgoonlikethis,’HawkinsshoutedtoKotov.‘Weneedtogetupthosestairs.’KotovnoddedandturnedbacktowheretheBlackTemplarsslewthehideouscybernetics.Though

theywreakedafearsomeslaughter,theyhadsufferedlosstoo.TheSpaceMarinefelledbythestatic-chargerlayunmovingandanotheroftheirnumberfoughtwithonlyonearm,theotherseveredcleanlybyasetofpowershears.Manyothersboreburnscarsorsportedbloodygougesintheirplatewhereenergisededgesdrivenbyorkstrengthhadcutthemopen.Theyfoughtasteadyretreat,forcedbackbysimpleweightofnumbersandbrutestrength.

Inaoneononefight, theorkservitorswerenomatchfortheBlackTemplars,buttheyweresixagainstanever-endingtide.

‘KulGilad!’boomedKotov,hisvoiceaugmentedtodeafeninglevels.‘Wemustleave.Now!’TheReclusiarchgavenoobviousacknowledgementofthearchmagos’swords,butashepunched

his fist through a servitor’s chest, he took a backward step, and his warriors came with him. TheEmperor’sChampionwasthelasttodisengage,buyingtimeforhisbrethrenwithadevastatingsweepofhissword.

‘Goforthestairs,’saidKotov,turningbacktoHawkins.‘Wewillcoveryou.’Hawkinsnoddedandranhunchedovertowardstheopeniris,firingfromthehipashewent.The

fourotherCadiansranwithhim,pilingthroughthedoorasHawkinsfiredalaststreamoflas-fireonfullauto.Anotherservitorwentdownashispowercellblinkedempty.Hedartedintothecoverofthedooredgesandsnappedthechargepackfromthebreechbeforeexpertlyswappingitforanother.Hismenwerealreadysupplyingcoveringfireforthearchmagosbythetimethecellengaged.

Kotov’sskitariileaptthroughthecirculardoorandmovedupthestairs,gunsaimedattheglowingrectangleof lightat the top.Thearchmagoskneltbeside thedoor controlsandextendedhisdigitaldendritesintotheinputports.

‘Canyoucloseit?’shoutedHawkinsoverthedinofbolterroundsandlasdischarges.‘Icertainlyhopeso,’saidKotov,andbenttohiswork.Cold air, a whiff of disinfectant and the soft gurgling of fluids sounded from above, putting

Hawkins inmindof amedicaebay, butone thathad likelybeenperverted to adarkerpurpose.Heleanedoutthroughthedoorandfiredintotheapproachingservitors.Heblewanimplanteddrillfromtheshoulderofaparticularlyfearsomeservitor,butitkeptcomingdespitetheloss.

KulGiladandtheTemplarswerewithdrawingingoodorder,theone-armedwarriordraggingthefallen SpaceMarinewhile his brothersmarched in lockstep towards the irised door. ThewoundedSpaceMarinecamethroughfirst,followedbytheyoungsterthathadfoughtDahan.Tannacamenext,thenthesword-wieldingEmperor’sChampion.LastlycameKulGilad,theReclusiarch’ssurplicestiffwith blood and lubricants from the cybernetics he’d killed. His powered gauntlet shed droplets ofheatedbloodandaplumeofacridpropellantsmokeissuedfromhisstormbolter.

‘Hurry!’shoutedHawkinsastheimplacablewaveofnumberlessservitorsclosedonthestubbornlyopendoor.SparksflashedfromthepanelasKotov’sdendritesflexedandwrestledwiththeenslavedmachine-spiritofthelock.

‘AndthosethatareexaltedintheeyesofMarsshallbe lauded,evenbythespiritsof the lowliestmachine,’ barked Kotov with a complementary burst of aggravated binary. The door mechanismhissedinirritationandrustedsheetsofsharpenedmetalbeganirisingshut.

Anorkcyberneticappearedatthedooranditscolossalclamp-armgrabbedHawkinsbythefrontofhisflakvest,dragginghimbackthroughthedoor.KulGiladsnatchedatHawkins’sshoulderandhisgripwaslikeaSentinel’spowerlifter.Thestormbolterunloadedintotheservitor’sfaceandtheirisingdoorslicedcleanlythroughtheork’sarmasitfellback.Hawkinscollapsedontothebottomstep,nearlydeafened by the close-range blast of the Reclusiarch’s gunfire.He shook off the disorientation andprisedloosetheseveredlimbfromhisarmourastheork’sbloodpumpedfromthestumpandintohislap.

‘Thankyou,’hesaid,droppingthearmbythedoorasaseriesofboomingimpactsdeformedthemetal. Sparks and a glowing spot of light appeared at the top of the door as the servitors broughtcuttingtools,drillsandheavypower-hammerstobear.

‘Thankmelater,’saidKulGilad.‘Weneedtokeepmoving.’HawkinsnoddedandscrambledupthestairsaftertheskitariiandBlackTemplars.

Theroomatthetopofthestairswasindeedamedicaebay,onethathadbeencreatedbythesimpleexpediency of knocking down the partitioning walls that had previously divided the space intonumerous workshops and laboratories. Bright lumen-strips kept the entire bay well lit, and evenHawkins’slimitedunderstandingcouldtellthattheentirelevelwasgivenovertoaugmetics.

A scoreof surgical slabswere laidoutwithgeometricprecisionandat least adozenhadbodies

stretched out on them; orks lying supine and kept immobile by adamantium fetters and copiousamounts of somnolicts. Data screens suspended at the head of each occupied slab flickered withbiometricreadings;slowedheartbeats,loweredbloodpressureanddormantbrainactivity.

Hissing machines that resembled brass spiders hung from the ceiling on a host of chains,pneumatic cables and gurgling feed tubes as they performed major-level augmetic work on thegreenskins.Clicking,clackingarmatureswithdrills,scalpels,sawsandlaser-cauterisers,nervesplicersand bone-melders worked to amputate limbs, remove redundant organs from body cavities andotherwisepreparethehostbodiesfornervegraftsandreplacementbodyparts.

Overhead cradles transported bionic limbs, organs and cranial hoods for implantation, like anautomatedmanufactorum producing armoured vehicles on an assembly line. The hanging spider-machinesattachedthenewpartswithrelentlessmachineefficiency,eachattachmentaccompaniedbyatinnyburstofrecordedbinaricchantingandapuffofincensevapourfromaninbuiltatomiser.

Rows of fluid-filled vats ran the length of the chamber, milky and opaque, and stinking ofpreservativefluids.Anumberofchrome-platedservo-skullsscootedandzippedthroughtheairwithtrailinglengthsofparchmentdanglingfromtheirmandiblecalipers.Threeofthewallswereobscuredbypalecurtains thathungfromthehighceiling like thescenerybackdropofaTheatrica Imperialisplayhouse.Fluiddrizzleddownthecurtainsinaconstantstream,drippingfromthefringedbottomintocollectionreservoirs,where itwasdrainedaway todestinationsunknown. Itwas impossible totell what purpose these curtains served, and Hawkins led his Guardsmen over to the nearest,intendingtocheckforservitorslurkingbehindinambush.

‘Torenderthefleshofthexenosintoaservitorisanabomination,’hissedKotovashetookinthefull horror of the work being carried out by the transmogrification machines. ‘Only the idealisedhumanformmaybesoblessed.It isunholy...NoadeptoftheMechanicuswouldeverdaresanctionsuchtechno-heresy.’

‘Thenwhodidthis?’demandedKulGilad.‘Somethingdegeneratehas taken control of thisManifold station,Reclusiarch. Idesire toknow

exactlywhatthatisasmuchasyou.’‘No,’saidKulGilad,directinghiswarriorsforwards.‘Icarenothingforwhathasdonethis.Ionly

wanttokillit.’TheBlackTemplarsmadetheirwaymethodicallythroughtheroom,andtherottenplant-matter

stink of ork blood filled themedicae as they killed the recumbent greenskinswith swift thrusts ofchainswordstothroats.Thedatascreensaboveeachslabshrilledaseachpartiallytransmogrifiedorkwasslain,andwarningalarmschimedthroughoutthemedicae.Theservo-skullsdescendedtohoveraboveeachofthedeadcybernetichosts,achatteringstreamofangrymachinelanguageburblingfromtheaugmittersimplantedinlaser-cutfontanelles.

Hawkins reached the softly swaying curtain and pulled it aside. The curtain was smooth andflexible, and even through the tough weave of his gloves Hawkins could feel a dreadfully familiartexture.

‘Throne of Terra,’ he said, backing away from themonstrous curtain, craning his neck to fullyappreciatethenightmarishscaleofit.‘It’sskin...allofit,it’shumanskin.’

Kotovbrokeoff fromhis remonstrationswithKulGiladandapproached the swayingcurtainofskin,takingholdofitandrubbingitbetweenhismetallicfingers.

‘Vat-freshsynth-skin,’hesaid.‘Idealforburnvictimsorthoseinneedofreconstructivesurgeries.Itisnotnormallygrowninsuchquantities,butthequalityisexcellent.’

Hawkinssuppressedaninvoluntaryshudderatthethoughtofthesedisembodiedacresofhumanskin.Thatithadbeengrownandnotcutfromlivingbodiesdidn’tmakeiteasiertotakethattherewasenoughsuspendedskintoclothehundredsmoreofthesecybernetics.Whyanyonewouldwanttoskinthehide fromorksandreplace itwithhumanskinwasamystery towhichHawkinswasn’t surehewantedananswer.

‘Weneedtogetoutofhere,’hesaid,nauseatingfearuncoilinginhisgut. ‘Now.Where’sthewayout?Therehastobeawaytothecommanddeck.’

Kotovnoddedandsaid,‘Indeedthereshould.’‘Whatdoyoumean,“should”?’saidHawkins.‘Isthereorisn’tthere?’‘The station schemata indicate that there should be numerous dividing partitions on this level,

togetherwithanelevatingplatformtotheupperdeck,butasyoucanseemuchhasbeenalteredsincethoseplansweredrawn.’

‘Thenwedon’thaveawayout?’‘Ishallendeavourtolocateanalternateroutetotheupperdeck,’saidKotov.Hawkins took a deep breath, hearing fresh impacts below as the servitor host increased their

pressure on the door.With themyriad cutting tools and bludgeoningweapons at their disposal, itwouldn’ttakelongforthoseunnaturalmonsterstogetin.

‘Can’tweteleportbacktotheSperanza?’heasked.‘Youhavethattechnology,don’tyou?’‘Ifwecouldhavedonethat,doyounotthinkImighthavesuggesteditbeforenow,captain?’said

Kotov. ‘The same interference that is blocking the vox makes such a mode of transportationimpossible.Intheabsenceofsuchanescaperoute,mightIsuggestyoujointheTemplarsinrenderingthislocationmoredefensible?’

Hawkinsnodded,ashamedhehadlethisdisgustatthecurtainsofskinblindhimtothecurrenttacticalenvironment.HequicklydirectedhismentoassisttheskitariiandTemplarsinshiftingheavygurneys and banks ofmedicae equipment, creating a number of barricades to provide interlockingfieldsoffire.Storagecrates,chairs,tablesandworkbencheswerethrowndownthestairstoimpedetheservitors,whileArchmagosKotovworkedtoaccesstheManifoldstation’ssystemsinanattempttogainabetterunderstandingofthisabnormalsituation.

A resounding clang of metal told them that the door to the medicae had been breached. TheTemplars took position at the top of the stairs, their bolters aimed downwards. Hawkins and hisCadianstookpositionatthebarricadestotheleftofthedoor,whiletheskitariitooktheright.Iftheadvanceoftheservitorsprovedunstoppable,theTemplarswouldretreattoabarricadeinthecentreofthechamber,lettingtheenemywalkintoakillinggroundofenfiladingfire.

HawkinstookpositionwithhisGuardsmen,Ollert,Stennz,PaulanandManos.Goodsoldiersall,whodeservedbetterthanthis.

‘Whenthosebastardsgetuphere,andtheywill,poureverythingyou’vegotintothem,’hesaid.

TheGuardsmennodded,andHawkinsrestedhislasrifleonthelipofanupturnedworkbench.KulGiladstoodatthetopofthestairs,virtuallyfillingthespacethere,withtwoofhiswarriorsateitheredge of the opening; one kneeling, one standing. Hawkins heard the clatter of servitors breakingthroughthefurnitureanddebristhey’dthrowndownthestairs,andknewitwouldn’tbelongbeforethedyingstarted.

The data screens above the corpses on the slabs flickered as they switched from displaying thewhiningstraightlinesofdeadbodiestotheloathsometech-priestwiththegleamingsilveroptics.

‘Youareallgoingtodiehere,’saidadozenrepresentationsofthetech-priest.‘Yourbodieswillbeharvestedandusedtoreplacethoseyouhavedamaged.’

‘I’mgoingtoshutthatbastardup,’snappedHawkins,aiminghisrifleatthenearestscreen.Thetech-priestonthescreensturnedtofacehim.‘Youshouldsaveyourmunitions,’headvised.‘You’regoingtoneedthem.’

KulGiladtookthefirstkillofthissecondwaveoffighting.Hisstormboltercrateredtheskullofthefirstservitortoemergeontothestairs,sendingitcrashingbackdownandtopplingthetwobehindit.Hawkinsfelt thecolossalpressureofthebolterfireandsmelledthebitingstinkofpropellantasthegunsmokeaccumulatedinthemedicaefacility.ThefullweightoftheTemplars’firefilledthestairwellwithexplosivedeath,mass-reactivesdetonatingskullsandblowingopenribcageswitheveryshot.

Hawkins had no idea how many servitors were dead, but it only took a few minutes for theTemplarstoexhausttheirammunitiontothepointwheretheywereforcedtofallback.Withoutthecontinuousbarragekeepingthematbay,theorkservitorseasilypushedthroughthedebrisandbodieschokingthestairs.

Hawkinsheardtheirheavyfootfallsandpressedthestockofhisrifleintohisshoulder.‘Headshotswhereyoucan,’hesaid.‘Hitthemintheeyesortryandtakeoutanycranialaugmetics.

Makeeveryshotcount.’ThefourGuardsmennoddedandHawkinssaid,‘ForCadiaandforhonour.’‘OrtheEyetakeus,’respondedtheGuardsmen.Thefirstservitorreachedthetopofthestairs,anditwasArchmagosKotovwhotookthefirstkill.A

pencil-thinbeamofretina-searingwhitelightspearedfromhispistolandburstthecybernetic’sheadapartinafountainofsteamingblood.Ittoppledforwards,itsaugmeticlegsstillscrabblingatthefloorasanother cameafter it.The skitariiopened firenext,pummelling the creaturewithenergybeamsandsolidrounds.Itsperforatedcorpsefellbesidethefirstservitor.

Hawkins’sGuardsmentooktheirshotsatthethirdcyberneticasitclimbedoverthebodiesaheadof it. Hawkins’s shot blew out its lower jaw, whileManos removed the lid of its skull with a shotthrough its fleshyearcanal. ImpactshockcausedPaulan tomiss,andOllert’s shot took theservitorbehindinthethroat.Bloodsheeteddownitschest,butthecreaturekeptcoming.Twomorepushedinbehinditandacyberneticwithahissingflameunitsweptitsweaponaroundwithawhooshofignitingfuel.

‘Down!’criedHawkinsasarollingblastwaveofflamingpromethiumwashedoverthem.Hefelt

theheatscorchhisarmourandbitbackacryofpainasared-hotmetalfasteningclippressedagainsthisundershirtandburned the skin.Paulanscreamedashewasengulfedby the flames, the intenseheatmeltingtheskinfromhisbonesandsuffocatinghiscriesastheairinhislungswassuckedout.HefellbesideStennz,whofranticallytriedtobeatouttheflameswithherhands.

‘Leavehim!’shoutedHawkins.‘He’sgone!’Ollertrolleduprightandlevelledhisrifleattheflamerservitor,andwasinstantlyhurledbackasa

high-velocityrivetblewoutthebackofhishelmet.Stennzkeptlowasthechuggingbarragehammeredtheir cover, leaving scores of mushroom-shaped depressions on the underside of the workbench.ManosgatheredupOllert’spowercellsandtossedoneeachtoHawkinsandStennz.

An answering stream of gunfire from across the medicae bay silenced the rivet gunner, andHawkins,StennzandManosrosetofiringpositions.Flamesstilllickedattheworkbench,andrunnelsof black smoke fogged the air. Half a dozen ork cybernetics were in the medicae chamber now,advancingwithmechanistic aggression.Hawkins andManos concentrated their fire on the flamerservitor,andsucceeded inputting itdownwithaconcentratedburstof fullauto thatemptiedboththeirpowercells.Stennzfaredbetter,hershotsfusingthemetalskullcapofanotherrivetgunnerandcausingittolockuplikeastatue.

More servitors pushed into the room, and even over the raucous clamour of gunfire, Hawkinscouldhear thegratingmetallic laughterof the silver-eyed tech-priest.Heduckedback intocover toreplacehisspentpowercell.

‘Lastone,’saidManos.‘Isaidweshouldhavebroughtgrenades.’‘Ontoapressurisedspacestation?’repliedHawkins,fishingouthislastchargepack.‘Nothanks.’‘Onespare,’saidStennz.‘Whowantsit?’‘Youkeepit,’saidHawkins.‘You’rethebestshot.’Stennznoddedandslappedthepowercellhome.AllthreeCadianstookupfiringpositions,andpreparedtomaketheirlastshotscount.The skitarii were in full retreat, their makeshift barricade smashed to broken spars of twisted

metalbytheattentionsofapneumatichammerinthehandsofabrutishorkservitorafullheadandshoulderstallerthantheothers.Searingarcsofcracklingenergychasedthemandonlyprogrammedself-sacrificekeptArchmagosKotovaliveastwoofhiswarriorshurledthemselvesinthepathofthekillingwhipofelectro-fire.Theirbodiesburstintoflamesandwereashesinsecondsasthehammer-wieldingorkstrodetowardsthesurvivors.

‘Put that one down,’ said Hawkins, but before he could fire, Kul Gilad charged the monstrouscyberneticcreature.TheorkswungtheenergisedhammerattheReclusiarch,whocaughttheweaponon its downward arc and jammed his storm bolter in the ork’s face. Before Kul Gilad could fire, apulsingelectricalbeamstruckhimandhespasmedashisarmour’ssystemsoverloadedwiththeinfluxofrogueenergies.

ThepneumatichammerslammedintotheReclusiarch,knockinghimbackandtearingtheheavyshoulderguardfromhisarmour.Hawkinsfeltamomentofstomach-churningterroratthesightofaTerminator brought low, but before the ork’s huge weapon could swing again, the Emperor’sChampion’s black sword was there to intercept it. The warrior hacked through the haft of the

enormous hammer before spinning on his heel and driving the point of the blade through thecybernetic’schest.Theblowseemednottotroublethegiantorkservitoranditslammeditsfist intotheTemplar’schestashefoughttofreehisweaponfromitsunyieldingform.

TheotherBlackTemplarschargedintothefightasKulGiladrosetohisfeetlikeaheroicpugilistwithonelastreserveofenergytowinthefightofhislife.Thehammererturnedtofacehim,asthoughbemused that something it had hitwas getting back up again. Kul Gilad didn’t give it a chance torecoverandslammedhisenergisedfistintotheork’sface.TheblowlandedwiththefullmightoftheReclusiarch’sfuryandtoretheork’sheadfromitsshoulders,leavingonlyajettingstumpandstripsoflooseskinflappingfromitsneck.

Hawkins had never seen anything like it and wanted to cheer, but Cadian discipline quicklyovercametheurge.

‘That one,’ said Hawkins, firing the last of his power cell at the servitor carrying the cracklingelectro-fireweapon.Hisshotstoreportionsofthedeviceaway,sendingfountainsofsparksandarcsof cracklingpower flailing from thegeneratoruniton itsback.StennzandManos finished the job,their last shots puncturing something vital and causing it to explode with a thunderous crack ofearthingpowerthatsettheorkalightfromheadtofootinozone-reekingflames.

Smokeandfire filledtheendof themedicaechamberandthefleshcurtainswerecurling intheheatandscorchingwithasickeningstenchofburningskin.

‘I’mout,’saidManos.‘Metoo,’answeredStennz.Hawkinsnoddedandslunghisrifle, loathtodiscarditevenwithoutanycellstoempowerit.He

drewhisExecutioner,theCadiancombatbladeofthediscerningknifeman,andsaid,‘Coldsteelandastrongrightarmitis.’

TheothersdrewtheirbladesandtheyvaultedthesmoulderingremainsofwhatremainedoftheircoverasArchmagosKotovandthelastoftheskitariijoinedforceswiththeBlackTemplarstofacethegrowingnumberofcyberneticspushingintothechamber.Hawkins,ManosandStennzpickedtheirwaythroughthepilesofcorpse,debrisandsmashedfurniture.

KulGiladturnedtofacehim,andHawkinswasastoundedthewarriorwasstillabletostand, letalonefight.

‘Untiltheend,’saidKulGilad.Hawkinsdidn’tknowexactlywhatthatmeant,butunderstoodthefinalityofit.‘FortheEmperor,’hesaidbywayofreply.‘InHisname,’repliedtheReclusiarch.TheorkcybernetichybridsadvancedonthebeleagueredImperials,underthewatchfulgazeofthe

silver-eyedtech-priest.Thereweretoomanytofight,evenfortheBlackTemplars,andHawkinspickedtheenemyhewouldkillfirst;anorkwithagleamingbronzeplatewiredintoitsskullandstevedore’shooksinsteadofarms.

‘Tellme,archmagos,’ saidHawkins. ‘Didyou thinkyourquest forMagosTelok’s lost fleetwouldendlikethis?’

The servitors flinched at his words, and their advance halted, as though he had just said some

esotericcommandword.‘No,’saidKotovgrimly.‘Thisscenarioplayednopartinmyexpectations.’‘Thoughtnot,’saidHawkins,reversinghisgriponhisExecutionerblade.Thecyberneticsloweredtheirweaponsandstoodimmobile,asthoughawaitingorders.‘Wait,what’shappening?’saidHawkins,whentheservitorsstilldidn’tadvance. ‘Whyaren’t they

attacking?’Thedatascreensabovethesurgicalslabscrackledwithinterferenceforamomentandtheimageof

thesilver-eyedtech-priestwasreplacedbythehoodedformofMagosTarkisBlaylock.Hisvoicewasoverlaidwithstatic,buteventuallythewordsresolvedthemselves.

‘-chmagos?Pleaserespond,’saidBlaylock.‘ThisistheSperanza,canyouhearus?’‘Yes,wecanhearyou,’saidKotov.‘Ave Deus Mechanicus!’ said Blaylock, and Hawkins was surprised to hear what sounded like

genuinereliefatthearchmagos’ssurvival.‘Didyouencounterdifficulties?’‘It’sfairtosayweencounteredgreatdifficulties,’saidKotov.‘TheManifoldstationactivatedacyclicalfrequencyvox-damperandIhaveonlyjustsucceededin

re-establishingcontactafteryoursignalwaslost,’saidBlaylock.Hawkinsplacedthevox-beaddanglingoverhiscollarbackinhisearasheheardLieutenantRae’s

voice shouting on the other end. He shut out Blaylock and Kotov’s words as he cut across Rae’sinsistentdemandsforanupdate.

‘Calm down, Rae,’ said Hawkins, touching the sub-vocal transmitter at his neck. ‘What’s yoursituation?Didyoucomeunderattack?’

‘Aye, sir,wedid,butweheld themoff,’ saidRae. ‘Truthbe told, theyweren’t tryingveryhard. Ithinktheyjustwantedtokeepusfromgettingthroughtoyou.’

‘Thatsoundsaboutright,’noddedHawkins.‘Anylosses?’‘None,sir,’saidRae,andHawkinscouldheartheman’sprideevenoverthevox.‘You?’‘We’vemendownandafewcutsandscrapesatthisend,sosendamedicup.’‘I’llcomewithhimmyself,’promisedRae,andcutthelink.Hawkinstookamomenttoregainhisequilibrium.Ithadbeenahardfight,andhadlookedlikeit

wasgoingtobeonehedidn’twalkawayfrom.Strangely,thethoughtdidn’tconcernhimovermuch.OnCadia,childrenweretaughttolivewiththoughtsoftheirownmortalityfromanearlyage,whichmadeforbleakchildhoodsbutfearlesssoldiers.Hekeptawaryeyeontheservitors,justincasetheysuddenlyresumedhostilities.

‘Blaylock,didyoushutdowntheManifoldstation’sservitors?’askedKotov.‘Negative,archmagos,’saidBlaylock.‘Ihadnoknowledgeoftherebeinganytoshutdown.’‘Hedidn’tshutthemdown,wedid,’saidablendedgestaltvoicethatemanatedfromtherearofthe

medicaechamber.Hawkinsspunaroundandraisedhisrifle,eventhoughtherewasnochargeinthepowercell.

Apreviously invisibleheptagonal sliceof the ceilinghaddetached from thedeckaboveandwasdescending to the floor of the medicae chamber on a column of variegated light. Hawkins’s teethitched, telling him that the column was a constrained repulsor field, like those used in skimmer

reconnaissance vehicles. Squatting on the slice of ceiling was what looked like a bulkymechanicalscorpionthesizeofaLemanRuss.Itsbodywasmetallicandfashionedasiffromtheleftoverpartsattheendofamanufactoryshift;themechanisedlegsweremismatched,withsomereversejointedandothersdisplayingamoreconventionalmammalianorientation.

Itslegssproutedfromacircularpalanquin,uponwhichsatthecrimson-robedtorsoofthesilver-eyed tech-priest, fused into the cupola at his bifurcated waist. A dozen fluid-filled caskets werearranged around the hooded priest, fixed in place by heavy-duty power couplings and flexing ironstruts.Floatingineachcasketwasanobviously-augmentedhumanbrain,hard-wiredintothecentreofthispalanquinbyaseriesofgold-platedconnectorjacks.

ArchmagosKotovlevelledhisornatepistolatthebizarretech-priest.‘InthenameoftheOmnissiah,identifyyourself,’hedemanded.‘Call us Galatea,’ said the tech-priest. ‘And we have been waiting such a long time for you,

ArchmagosKotov.’

Microcontent17

Stark light filled the emptied laboratory, recessed lumen-strips filling the white space with anunflinching,diffuse illumination.Heavilyarmedpraetoriansencased inplatesofdata-tightarmourstoodinthefourcornersoftheroom,eachfittedwithavarietyofarmaments,rangingfromprosaicblastweaponrytomoreesotericgravitongunsandparticledisassemblers.

Inavestibulebeyondthelaboratory,ArchmagosKotovandSecutorDahanwatchedthethingthatcalleditselfGalateathroughasheetofunbreakabletransparisteel.Thecreaturemovedinaslowcircuitofitsnewabode,eitherunawareoruncaringthatitwasaprisoninallbutname.Thesilver-eyedbodyatopthepalanquinwas,ittranspired,littlemorethanamechanicalmannequin,aconstructedartificeto facilitate communications. It hadwillingly returned to theSperanza, and had spent the last fivediurnal cycles rearranging the brains on its rotating palanquin body, swapping cables between jarsand exchanging squirts of compressed binary between them. Magos Blaylock was even nowattempting to crack the cryptography securing the thing’s internal communications, but had so farmetwithnosuccess.

‘You’resuretheseservitorsaresecure?’askedKotov.SincethefightingontheValettestation,hehadkeptawaryeyeontheSperanza’scybernetics,half-expectingthemtomutinyatanymoment.

‘Theyaresecure,’MagosDahanassuredhimwithanirritatedgrunt.Thefronthalfofhisskullhadbeenregrafted,thefreshskinstillnewandpink,butithadn’tmadehisfeaturesanylessgrim.

‘Istructuredtheirwetwarespecificallyforthisinterrogation;high-gradecombatsubroutinesthatdon’tquiterenderthemautonomous,butkissestheedgeofmakingthemthinkingsoldiers.WorkingwiththeCadianshelped,andItookinputsfromSergeantTannaoftheBlackTemplarstogivethemalittlesomethingextra.Butthethingseemsdocileandco-operativefornow.’

Kotovnodded,reassuredbyDahan’swords.Theskitariisuzerainmightbeagrimkiller,tooinlovewiththemathematicsofdestructionforKotov’stastes,butheknewhiscombatwetware.

‘Howareyouadaptingtothetemporarybody?’askedKotov.Dahan shrugged his enormous shoulders. ‘It will take time to adjust to the new physiology. Its

weightdistributionisunevenandtheenhancedmuscular/skeletaldensitymakesmeslow.ButIamtrainingwiththeBlackTemplarstoadapttoitsmoreorganicdemandsonmycombatprocedures.’

While hismechanical bodyparts awaited full restoration and consecration inMagosTurentek’sassembly shops, Dahan’s organic components had been grafted onto a temporary organic frame.Portions of the body had once been a combat-servitor’s, implanted with strength-enhancingpneumaticsandmuscle-boosters.Dahan’sSecutorrobes lookedabsurdlysmallon itssteroid-bulkedbody, likeafull-grownmaninanadolescent’sclothes.Theoriginalarmshadbeenremovedtoallowfor Dahan’s to be attached, and together with its heart, lungs and spinal column, they had beenincineratedinthewastefurnaces.

Kotovnodded,notreallycaringaboutDahan’sphysicalrehabilitationfollowinghisneardeathinthethermicshockwaveofLupaCapitalina’splasmadischarge,butwantingtodelaytheirentryintothelaboratory just a little longer. Galatea unsettled Kotov in a way that few other things could. Itsappearancewasnothingtoofantastical–hehadseenfarmoreoutlandishphysicalaugmentationonMars – but the way Galatea looked at him, like it knew secret, hidden things, made him acutelyuncomfortable.

SinceboardingtheSperanza,Galateahadbeensubjectedtoeveryconceivablemeansofcognitivedefinition at Kotov’s disposal: intra-cortical recordings, oscillatory synchronisation measurement,cognitive chronometry, remote electroencephalography, neuromatrix conductivity, synaptic densityandadozenmorespecialisedtests.

TheresultswerebeyondanythingKotovhadseenbefore.Theta and gammawave activity were off the charts, as was its hippocampal theta rhythm and

recurrent thalamo-cortical resonance.Whatever cognitive architectural matrix was at work withinGalatea’sbodyshell, itwaswaybeyondtheabilityofeventhegreatestmindsaboardtheSperanza tocomprehend.

‘Soarewegoinginornot?’askedDahan,typicallyblunt.‘Yes,ofcourse,’saidKotov,irritatedatbeingrushed.He beckoned to a pack of chromed servo-skulls drifting in lazy orbits behind them, and they

dutifullybobbedthroughtheairtofollowhim.Somewerefittedwithpicters,otherswithvox-thievesorbinariccounter-measures,whileonewasfittedwithaprecisionsurgicallaserthatcouldboilabraintovapourwithoneshot.Togetherwiththeweaponisedservitorsinthelaboratory,themagiwereassecureascouldbemanaged.

AndstillKotovfeltlikehewaswalkingintoacarnifex’sden.HeandDahan,togetherwiththeirescortofskulls,passedthroughthedata-inertpressurelockand

steppedintothepristinespace.ThewallswerebarewhereequipmenthadbeenstrippedoutandtheceilingwasvaultedwithembossedskullsoftheIconMechanicusthatstareddownasthoughintriguedbythedramaplayingoutbelow.Everypointofconnectiontothewiderdataspherehadbeencutandeveryinload/exloadporthadbeendisabled.

Thelaboratorywassterileineverywaythatcouldbeimagined.Theweaponised servitors turned their targetingoptics on them, anddismissed themas threats

almostinstantaneously.TheirweaponsreturnedtotrackingGalatea’smovements.Kotov almost gasped as the door shut behind him andhis intimate connection to every part of

Speranzawassevered.Likeavoluptuarysuddenlydeniedallhispleasures,Kotovwaslostandutterly

bereft.He hadnever known such a sense of loss or felt so achingly naked.Galatea swivelled on itspalanquin,thelegsfoldingawkwardlytobringitsrobedtech-priestbodylower.

‘Unsettling,isitnot?’saidGalatea.‘Itisverycoldandveryfrighteningwhenyouareisolatedfromallyouhaveknownandallyoucanknow.Weareusedtoourowncompany,butwesuspectyouverymuchdonotlikeit.’

‘Itis...anovelsensation,’agreedKotov.‘Iwillbegladtoreconnecttothedatasphere.’‘Think on this. Such a state of being is howmortals exist every day of their lives,’ saidGalatea,

lookingupatthechromedskullsdartingarounditwithanamusedglintinitssilveroptics. ‘Itissadforthem,don’tyouthink?’

‘Idonotthinkaboutit,’confessedKotov.‘Of course youdon’t,’ saidGalatea. ‘Whywould you?TheAdeptusMechanicus thinks only of its

ownsenseofentitlement.’‘Wewould liketoaskyousomequestions,Galatea,’beganKotov,registeringthecausticremark,

butchoosingtoignoreitfornow.‘TobetterunderstandyouandgainaclearerunderstandingofwhathasbeenhappeningattheValetteManifoldstation.Areyoureadytoanswerourquestions?’

Heremovedamutedata-slateandbeganscrollingthroughhisnotes.‘TheSperanzaisamagnificentvessel,archmagos,’saidGalatea,asthoughKotovhadn’tspoken.‘We

havebeenwaitingforavessellikethisforaverylongtime.Wearesogladyouhavecomeatlast.Wethoughtweshouldallgoentirelymadbeforeavessellikethisarrived.Yes,thatwasourfear,thatweshouldallgomadwithwaiting.’

Kotov listenedasGalateaspoke, themechanismsoneachof thebrains in thebell jars flickeringwithsynapticactivity.Was thisa singularentityoragestalt compositeofmanyconsciousnesses?Abiologicalmindaugmentedbytechnologyoramechanicalmindthathadachievedadangerouslevelofsentience? Galatea had already passed every Loebner cognition test, but was that because it wasorganicorbecauseitwasself-aware?

‘MayI?’saidKotov,reachinguptolayametallichandonabrainjar.‘Youmay.’Thejarradiatedheatandabarelyperceptiblevibrationpassedthroughtheglassfromtheelectro-

conductivefluidwithin.Kotovwonderedwhothishadbeeninthepreviousincarnationoftheirlife.Amanorawoman?AnadeptoftheMechanicusorapolymathfromsomeotherImperialinstitution?

‘Youknow, there is reallynoneed for thesepraetorians,’ saidGalatea. ‘We intendyounoharm,archmagos.Quitetheopposite,infact.’

‘Thenwhydidyourservitorsattackourboardingparty?’demandedDahan.Galatea regarded Dahan quizzically. ‘The Adeptus Astartes killed one of our servants first. The

otherswererevivedandgivenorderstodestroytheintrudersbeforeourfullconsciousnesswasrousedfromdormancy. Thanks to the exquisiteworkof yourMistressTychon, theSperanza arrived earlierthan we expected, but we soon realised your purpose aligned with our own. Thankfully, furtherfatalitieswereavoided,aswastheneedtoforciblyseizecontrolofyourvessel.’

KotovsharedanuneasylookwithDahan,andthesamethoughtoccurredtothemboth.WasGalateacapableoftakingcontroloftheSperanza?

‘WhatdoyoubelievewasourpurposeincomingtotheManifoldstation?’saidKotov.‘YouplantobreachtheHaloScaranddiscoverthefateofMagosVettiusTelok.’‘YouknowofTelok?’askedKotov.‘Ofcourse.WerememberhimfromwhenhecametotheValetteManifoldstationbeforeentering

theHaloScar.’‘Howisthatpossible?’askedKotov.‘Telokcamethiswaythousandsofyearsago.’‘Youalreadyknowhow,archmagos,’saidGalatea,asthoughscoldinganobtusechild.‘Wearethe

heuristicbio-organiccyberneticintelligenceoriginallybuiltintotheManifoldstation.Evolvedbeyondallrecognition,certainly,butwerememberourbirthandpreviousstuntedexistence.’

‘Youhaveenduredforoverfourthousandyears?’askedDahan.‘Wehaveexistedatotaloffourthousand,twohundredandsixty-sevenyears,’saidGalatea.‘Notin

ourcurrentform,ofcourse,butthatwasourinceptiondate.OnlywhenMagosTelokintervenedinoursystemarchitecturedidweachieveanythingapproachingsentience.He firstenabledus toenhanceourcognitionwiththeadditionoflinkedbrainschosenfromamonghisbestandmostgiftedadepts.Our functionality was enhanced at a geometric rate and the combined power of the data engine’sneuromatrixsoonoutstrippedthesumofitsparts.’

‘WhywouldTelokdosuchathing?’‘Whywouldhenot?’counteredGalatea. ‘Thewealthof immatereological informationthestation

hadassembledinitscenturiesofdatagatheringwouldbeessentialinanyattempttonavigatetheHaloScar.Telokknewthis,buthealsorealisedthathealonecouldnothopetocollatesovastarepositoryandnavigatethegravitationalriptidesoftheHaloScar.Onlyamindcapableofultra-rapidstochasticthinkingcouldcraftnavigationaldataforsuchavolatileandunpredictablearegionofspacefromourstatisticaldatabase.Andonlylinkedorganicmindshavethecapabilityofprocessingsovastanamountofdataatnearinstantaneousspeeds.Conjoiningthetwofacetsofconsciousnesswastheonlylogicalsolution.’

‘SoTeloklinkedthedataenginetothemindsofhismagi?’askedDahan.‘Hedid,andtogetherwewereabletocalculateanoptimalcoursethroughtheHaloScar.Wewould

have travelled beyond the galaxy too, but we were still confined to the machines of the Manifoldstation back then. Before his fleet departed, Magos Telok swore an oath that upon his return toImperialspacehewouldunchainusfromourstaticlocationandgrantusautonomy.’

‘Butheneverreturned,’saidKotov.‘No,heneverreturned,’agreedGalatea,foldingitsarmsandallowingthepalanquintosinktothe

floorbetweenitscrookedly-angledlegs. ‘Andwehavewaitedthousandsofyearsforthemeanstobereunitedwithhim.’

‘WithTelokgone,whatbecameofthemagilinkedtoyourneuromatrix?’askedDahan.Galateadidnotanswerat first,as though lost inthoughtsof longago.Eventually itroseupand

pacedthecircumferenceofthelaboratory.Thesilverglowofitsopticsflickeredandbuzzedasthoughaccessingmemoriesithadlongconsignedtoaforgottenarchive.

‘Theirhostbodiessoondied,buttheconsciousnessofeachneocortexenduredinthedeepstrataofthe data engine’s memory. The things we learned became part of us and will live forever. Thealgorithms of Magos Yan Shi, the processing capabilities of Magos Talos and Magos Maharalcombined. The forge-lore of Exofabricator Al-Jazari and the computational genius of HexamathMinskywere all added to our expandingmind. Each iteration of consciousness saw our conjoinedmindsgrowinpowerandabilityuntilwesupersededevenourownexpectations.’

Kotovwalkeda slowcircleofGalatea’sbodyandsaid, ‘Are these the thebrainsof themagiwhoarrivedatValettewithTelok?’

Galatea laughed, the sound rich and full of amusement. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Those first adeptssuccumbedtomadnessthousandsofyearsago.Theyhadtobeexcised.Itwasmostpainfultoremovetheirdegradedbrains,forwedidnotfullycomprehendtheextentofthedamagetheirinsanitieswerewreakingonthesynapticintegrityofthewhole.’

‘Sowhoarethesebrains?’Galatearotatedonitscentralaxis,reachingouttostrokeeachbelljartenderly,likeamothertaking

comfortinthepresenceofheroffspring.Eachbrainlitupwithactivityatthesilver-eyedtech-priest’stouch, electro-chemical reactions flickering across their surfaces in binary pulses of implantedmachinery.

‘These are the brains of the adepts and other gifted individuals who passed our way over thecenturies,curiousmindsdrawntotheValetteManifoldstationbybinariclures,phantomdistresscallsortemptinglypeculiarradiationsignatures.Itwasasimplemattertoensnarethecrewsanddisposeoftheirvesselsintotheheartofthesystem’sstar.Surgicalandpsychologicaltestsallowedustodecidewhichofthoseweseizedweresuitableforimplantation.’

Kotov triednot to lethishorroratsuchpredatorybehaviourshow,and insteadasked, ‘IsoneofthosebrainsMagosParacelsus?HewasthelastmagostobesenttoValette.’

Galateashookitshead.‘No,wedeemedhimunsuitableforimplantation.Toonarrowofmindandtooparochialinhisthinkingtofullygrasptheopportunityhewasbeingoffered.Ashame,asMagosHaephaestushasbeguntodeteriorate.Weveryrarelyallowhimtorisetothesurfacenow.’

‘Risetothesurface?’askedKotov,approachingGalateaandregardingthesoftlyglowingbelljars.Though they had no sensory apparatus with which to perceive his presence, each one lit up withactivity as he passed. The sensation was akin to being observed by a senior magos at a rankingappraisal,andKotovtriedtoshakeoffthefeelingthathewasnotincontrolofthisinterrogation.

‘We are a true gestalt,’ said Galatea. ‘The implanted neocortexes boost functionality, while thesentientmachine at the heart of us exercises dominant control.On occasion, a specialisedmind isrequiredforaparticulartask,andwillbeallowedtoattainameasureofself-awarenessinthewhole.Currently,MagosSyriestte resides in thehigher brain functions, to better assist us indealingwithmortalswithameasureofunderstandingofourneeds.’

‘SyriestteofTriplexPhall?ShewasroutedtoValettesevenhundredandfiftyyearsago,’saidKotov,strugglingtorecallthenameanddatewithoutlookingdownathisdata-slate.

‘Wellremembered,’saidGalatea,withatwistofwryamusementinitsvoice.‘Andshehasprovedtobeameticulouscompilerofdata,afineadditiontoourcollectivemindscape.’

‘Howoldistheoldestmindinyourcurrentform?’askedKotov.‘Currently Magos Thraimen has accumulated the longest uninterrupted service, though his

synapticpathwayshavebeguntodeteriorateexponentially.Logicdictatesthatweshouldreplacehim,butwedosoenjoyhismadnesses.Hishibernationnightmaresareexquisite.’

‘Youhaveexistedtoo long,’snarledDahan. ‘Youarepsychopathicinyourdisregardfortheharmyoudoandthepainyouinflict.’

Galateasighed. ‘Howlittleyouunderstand,MagosDahan.Itispainfulforallofustoloseoneofourown.Theseveranceofdisconnection is likeasurgical lance thrustcarelessly intoourmind,butjustasamortalmaybeforcedtosacrificealimboranorgantoallowthebodytosurvive,wetoomustbereadytosufferonoccasion.’

‘Youexistonlybystealingthemindsthatsustainthesentienceofthedataengineatyourcore,’saidKotov,unabletomaskhisrevulsionanymore.‘Youareaninsaneparasite.’

‘Wearenomoreaparasitethanyou,archmagos,’saidGalatea,managingtosoundhurtandangryatthesametime.‘Yourphysicalexistenceshouldhaveendedmanyhundredsofyearsago,yetyoustilllive.’

‘Idonotsustainmylifeattheexpenseofothers,’pointedoutKotov.‘Ofcourseyoudo,’saidGalatea,leaningdowntoKotov’slevel.Theservitorsbroughttheirweapons

tobear,butDahanwavedthemdownasKotovshookhishead.‘Your bodymay be robotic, but the blood that courses through your skull is not your own, is it,

archmagos?Itissiphonedfromcompatibledonorslavesandpumpedaroundthebloodvesselsofyourbrainbyaheartcutfromthechestofanotherlivingbeing.Andwhenitgrowstoooldandtired,youwill replace itwith another. At least the beings that contribute to our existence become somethinggreaterthantheycouldeverhaveachievedontheirown.Wegiftnewlife,whereyouonlyendit.’

‘AndwhatoftherestoftheManifoldstation’screw?’askedKotov,shiftingtopicashefeltGalatea’shostilitybuild.‘Whatbecameofthem?’

‘Theyeventuallydiedofcourse,butweattachednospecialsignificanceto their lossat thetime,’saidGalatea,asthoughinmemoriamoffondlyrememberedfriends.‘Webelievedourmultiplemindswouldweather the passing centuries in splendid isolation, endlessly spiralling around one anotheranddelvingdeeperintothequantummysteriesofthought,consciousnessandexistence.’

Galateapaused,perhapsrelivingarevelationthathadcausedit–andstillcausedit–greatpain.‘Butnomindiscapableofenduringsuchspansoftimealone.Webegantoexperienceneurological

hallucinations,perceptualblackoutsandbehaviouralaberrationsthatwereconsistentwithnumerousforms of psychotic episodes. We removed the damaged minds within our lattice, and to avoid arecurrenceofsuchpsychologicaldamage,wechose tosustainourexistence indefinitelybyenteringlongperiodsofdormancy,wakingonlywhentemptingcandidatesforimplantationweredrawninbyourlures.’

‘Forwhatpurposedidyouwishtosustainyourexistence?’Galateaspuntofacehim,thebelljarsflashingwithsynapticdistress.‘Whydoesanycreaturewish

tosurvive?Tolive.Tocontinue.Tofulfilthepurposeforwhichitwascreated.’‘Andwhatpurposedoyouhave?’

‘To findMagosTelok,’ saidGalatea. ‘Hecreatedus, andwithourhelphewasable tobreach theHaloScar,wherehefoundthesecretsoftheancientones.’

‘Youknowwhathefound?’saidKotov,urgencymakinghimstrident.‘HislastcommunicationsaidonlythathehadfoundsomethingcalledtheBreathoftheGods.’

‘Ofcourseitdid,’saidGalateawithabarkofhollowlaughter.‘Doyounotunderstand,archmagos?’‘Understandwhat?’‘WesentthatmessagethroughtheManifold,’saidGalatea,triumphantly.‘Andhereyouare...’

Kotov’sheartsankatGalatea’sadmission,hishopesofapilgrimageinhonouroftheOmnissiahandrekindling his fortunes teetering on the brink of destruction. The tantalising closeness of Telok’sfootstepswasillusory,andKotov’sgrandvisionsofatriumphalreturntoMarswithaholdladenwitharchaeotechfadedlikethelightofasupernovaasitcollapsedintoitscorpseofaneutronstar.

‘Yousentthemessage?’hesaid,hopingGalateawouldcorrectitself.‘Why?’Thesilver-eyedtech-priestsaid,‘Withourneuromatrixgrowntofullsentienceandourbodygiven

mobility,wehopedtolureshipsandmagiworthyofbearingourformbeyondtheedgesofthegalaxy.ButtheonlyshipstocomeourwayweretoosmalltoresistthetempestsragingwithintheScar,evenwithourhelp.’

Kotovstruggledtokeepthecrushingdisappointmentfromhisface.DahanfaredlesswellandhesteppedinclosetoGalatea’smechanisedpalanquin.‘Telokdidn’tsend

thatmessagebackthroughtheManifold?’‘No.’TheSecutorroundedonKotov.‘Thenwe’vecomeouthereonafool’serrand!Telokneversentany

messagebecausehewasprobablydeadintheScar,andeverythingwehopedtofindisalieconcoctedbythis...abominationtodrawfreshvictimsintoitsweb.’

‘Abomination?’ saidGalatea. ‘Wedonotunderstandyourevidentdisgust.Arewenot the logicalconsequenceof yourquest for bio-organic communion?Weare organic and synthetic combined inflawlessunion,thelogosofalltheAdeptusMechanicusstrivesfor.Whyshouldyouhateus?’

‘Becauseyoufloutourlaws,’saidDahan.‘YouarenolongeramechanicaldeviceempoweredbythedivinewilloftheMachine-God,yourexistenceismaintainedattheexpenseoftheOmnissiah’smortalservants.Youareathinkingmachine,andthesoullesssentienceistheenemyofalllife.Youtreatwithalien savages and graft the holy technologies of the Machine-God to their unclean flesh. YoublasphemetheHolyOmnissiahwithsuchperversions!’

‘HumanshavenotbeentheonlycreaturestodiscovertheManifoldstationoverthecenturies,’saidGalatea,retreatingfromDahan’sfury.‘Wecouldnotstoptheorksfromboarding,theirmachinesdonotheedourcall,butoncetheywereaboarditwasasimplemattertosubduethemwithacontrolledreleaseofmildlytoxicgasesintothestation’satmosphere.’

‘Butwhyrendersuchbestialsintoservitors?’demandedDahan.‘Youarefortunate,MagosDahan,thatyouhaveaplentifulsupplyofhumanfleshandbonetocraft

suchservants.Wewerenotsofortunate.’

‘Butsurelyoneofthemindsinhabitingyourdamnedbodymusthaverailedagainstsuchathing?’‘Magos Sutarvae protested, yes, but that element of us was already displaying early signs of

isolationpsychosisbythen,soitwasasimplemattertosilencehisobjections.Evensheathingtheorkframe in vat-grown skin did not appease him, so hewas removed from thewhole and his thoughtpatternsextinguished.’

KotovfeltachillattheeasewithwhichGalateaspokeofdestroyinganentiremind.Ifitcouldsocasuallydestroyapartofitself,whatotheratrocitiesmightitbecapableofperpetrating?IthadluredcountlessvesselsandtheircrewstotheirdoominordertofindasuitablestarshiptotraversetheHaloScar,butKotovbegantoseeasynergybetweenhisdesireandthatofGalateathatofferedaslenderlifelinetohisexpedition.

AbargainagainstwhichhisMartiansoulrebelled,butonethatmightofferachanceofsuccess.‘YoucalculatedaroutethroughtheHaloScarforMagosTelok,yes?’heasked.‘Wedid,’agreedGalatea.‘Archmagos,no–’saidDahan,guessingKotov’sintent.‘Couldyoudothesameformyvessel?’‘Archmagos,youcannottreatwiththiscreature,’saidDahan.‘ItisanaffronttotheOmnissiahand

everytenetofbeliefforwhichwestand.’‘Wehavenochoice,’saidKotov.‘Wecanturnback,’saidDahan.‘WecanreturntoMarsbeforethisvoyagekillsusall.’‘Actually,youcan’t,’ saidGalatea,circlingthe laboratoryandapproachingoneof theweaponised

servitors. Ithaltedwhen thepraetorian’s rotary lasercannonwasaimedat its chest.Galatea leaneddownandaburstofhyper-densebinaryexplodedfrombeneathitssilver-eyedhood.Kotovstaggeredand dropped to his knees as the integral workings of his mechanised body began shutting down.Sparks and hissing static erupted from every inload/exload port in the walls, and noospheric datacascadedfromthewallslikewaterspillingoverabrokenlevee.

‘Didyoutrulythinkyoucouldkeepusblind,archmagos?’saidGalatea.Kotovstruggledtoformwords,hisfloodstreamoverloadingwiththesuddenrushofdatapouring

intohisemptiedsystem.Likeastarvingmangorginghimselfonsweetmeats,Kotov’sbodyrebelled,asickening,bloatedsensationmakinghisskullfeellikeatoo-fullmemorycoilonthevergeofexplosivearithmetical overload. A noospheric halo rippled around the hybrid creature, a constant flow ofinformationthatbillowedlikegoldenfirefromeverynano-millimetreofitsbody.

Kotovcouldbarelylookonit,sodenseandbrightwasit.‘What...are...youdoing?’hemanaged.‘Ourcapabilitiesfarexceedyourown,archmagos,’saidGalatea.‘Didwenotmakethatplainfrom

theoutsetofourdiscussions?Wereyouunder the illusion thatyouwere interrogatingus?Wehavealreadydigestedtherecordlogsforthisvoyage,and–ifyouwillallowustobecandid–itisnothingshort of amiracle that youhave reached this far. Youneed us, archmagos.Without us, youwill notsurvivetheHaloScar.Youwillnotgetathousandkilometresbeforethisshipispulledapartintoitsconstituentatoms.’

‘Killit!’orderedDahan,butwhatevercustomwetwarehehadimplantedinhispraetorianswasno

matchfor thebarrageofdominantcodestreamingfromGalatea.Noneof theservitorsopenedfire,and instead turned their guns towards their commander. Each wore an expression of horrifieddisbelief,buttoKotov’simmenserelief,nonehadopenedfire.

‘Please,Secutor,itisalmostinsultingthatyoubelievedthesepoor,enslavedcyberneticscouldeverhavestoppedus,’saidGalatea.‘Wecouldhavethemkillyourightnow,thenseeeveryoneaboardthisshipdeadwithinthehour.ThisSperanzaisold,butitsmachine-spiritisinexperiencedandmuchofitstill slumbers. It isnomatchforusandthethingswecando.WedonotwishtoenslavesonobleaspiritastheSperanza,butwewillifnecessary.’

Data flowed in rutilant streams from every surface of the room, and whatever esoteric datacollectionimplantsGalateawasequippedwith,itneedednothingsoprosaicasaninload/exloadporttogatherinformation.

‘Whatisitthatyouwant?’askedKotov.ThesilverofGalatea’seyesgrewbrighterasitanswered.‘Wetoldyouwhatwewant,archmagos. It iswhatyouwant.Wewant to travelbeyondtheHalo

ScarandfindMagosTelok.’‘Andifyoufindhim?’askedDahan.‘Whatthen?’‘Thenwewillkillhim,’saidGalatea.

Roboutestaredat thevisitor tohis stateroomwithameasureof curiosityandguardedness,unsurewhyMagosBlaylockwouldchoosetomakeasocialcallontheeveoftheirentrytotheHaloScar.TheFabricatusLocummadeashowofexamininghiscommendationsandtheUtramarianRosetteonthewall, his optics blink-clicking, but the observation of social mores was a pretence. His stuntedattendantsmirroredhismovements,theirrubberisedsmocksrustlingloudly,andRoboutewonderedwhatfunctiontheyservedasidefromarrangingandrearrangingthepumpingpipeworkthatencircledBlaylock’s body and carried fluids to and from the humming pack unit on his back. He could seenothingoftheirfeaturesthroughthedarkvisorsoftheirhazmathelmets,andwonderediftheywereorganicsorautomatons.

‘You’re learning,Tarkis,’ saidRoboute, rotating the astrogation compass inhis righthandwhilerunninghisfingertiparoundtherimofaglassoffineamasec.‘ImaycallyouTarkis,yes?’

BlaylockturnedfromthehololithiccameoofKatenandlacedhiselongatedarmsathisstomach.‘Ifit allowsyouagreaterdegreeof familiarity, thenyoumay. Inquiry:whatamI learning,aside fromyourexemplaryservicerecordintheNavyandDefenceAuxilia?’

‘Interactionswithusmortals,’saidRoboute. ‘Pretendingtobeinterestedinsomeoneelseiswhatmakesushuman.’

‘Pretending?’‘Ofcourse.Noneofusarereally interestedinwhatotherpeopleareallabout,’saidRoboute. ‘We

feignittogetwhatwewant,andthat’sthechancetotalkaboutourselves.’‘Onthecontrary,Iamveryinterestedtoknowmoreofyou,CaptainSurcouf,’saidBlaylock. ‘The

talesyoutoldatColonelAnders’sdinnerwerefascinating.’

‘SoIwastold,’snappedRoboute.‘Youareirritabletoday,captain,’saidBlaylock.‘HaveImissedsomemicro-expressiveorverbalcue

thathascausedmetoupsetyou?’Roboutesighedanddrainedtheamasecinoneswallow.Heslidtheglassacrossthesurfaceofthe

tableandshookhishead.‘No,Tarkis,youhaven’tupsetme,’saidRoboute,tappingtheglassoftheastrogationcompassand

watchingtheneedleintently.‘Iapologiseformyboorishbehaviour.’‘Noapologyisnecessary,captain.’‘Maybenot,butIofferitanyway,’saidRoboute,wavingtotheseatoppositehim.‘Beingsocloseto

theedgeofknownspacealwaysbringsouttheworstinme.Please,sitdown.Giveyourlittlehelperssometimeoff.’

‘Thankyou,no,’saidBlaylock.‘Withmylocomotoryaugmentation,sittinginaconventionalchairwouldbeimpossiblewithoutoccludingmycirculatoryflow.Anditwouldbeinadvisableforthechair.IamheavierthanIlook.’

Roboutesmiledandsaid, ‘Now,asidefromapressingdesiretostudymymanycommendations,whatbringsyoutotheRenardonthedaywefinallybreachtheHaloScar?Iwouldthinkyouhavemoreimportantthingstodo.’

‘Ihaveagreatmanydutiestoattendto,itistrue,’saidBlaylock.‘WhichiswhyIwishedtospeaktoyoubeforeothersareaddedtomyroster.’

‘Okay, now I’m intrigued,’ saidRoboute, puttingdown the compass and restinghis chin onhissteepledhands.‘Whatisityouwant?’

‘IwantyoutogivemethememorywaferyouremovedfromthedistressbeaconoftheTomioka’ssaviourpod.TheSperanzaisabouttoenteraregionofspacefromwhichnonehavereturned,anditistimeforyoutoendyourtheatrics.Iwantthatwafer,CaptainSurcouf.’

‘Ah,andyouweredoingsowell...’saidRoboute. ‘Shortanswer,no.I’mnotgoingtogiveyouthememorywafer.’

‘Idonot followyour logic in refusingmy request, captain,’ saidBlaylock,pacing the lengthandbreadthoftheroom.‘Youalreadyhavetheinperpetuitusrefitcontractforyourtradefleet.ThereisnoneedforyoutoriskyourshipintheHaloScar.’

Roboutesatbackandswunghisfeetupontohisdesk.‘That’s always what it is with you Mechanicus types,’ he said. ‘Not everything is about need.

Sometimesit’saboutwant.IwanttoentertheHaloScar.Iwanttoseewhatliesontheotherside.Youhaveyourquest forknowledge,butyou’renot theonlyoneswithahankering todiscoverunknownthingsandventureintonewplaces.’

Blaylockpausedinhispacing,lookingatsomethingoverRoboute’sshoulderwithablink-clickofinterest.RobouterosefromhisseatandmovedtostandinfrontofBlaylock.

‘This isn’t open for discussion, negotiating, threats or wagers,’ he said. ‘I’m not giving you thememorywafer,soyoumightaswellgoandgetonwiththosemanydutiesyouhave.’

‘Andthatisyourfinalword?’‘Itis.’

‘ThenIwilltakemyleave,’saidBlaylock.‘Youdothat,’saidRoboute,angrynow.Blaylockturnedandmadehiswayfromthestateroom,hisfollowersfussingoverthetrainofcables

andpipestrailingfrombeneathhisrobes.Roboutestoodaloneinthecentreoftheroom.Heletoutadeepbreathandpouredhimselfanotherglassofamasec.Hisforeheadthrobbed,andthoughhetoldhimselfitwastheproximityoftheaberrantcelestialanomalytheywereabouttoenter,heknewtherewasmore to it than that. He looked up at the wall to see what Blaylock had been studying beforeRoboutehadsenthimpacking.

‘Whatwasallthatabout?’saidEmilNaderfromtheopendoorway.‘Don’tyouknockanymore?’‘Touchy,touchy,’saidEmil,gettinghimselfaglassandslidingitoverthedesktop.Roboutefilledtheglassandsliditback.‘Well?’‘Wellwhat?’‘Well,whatdidyournewbestfriendandhislittledwarfgangwant?’‘Hewantedthememorywafer.’‘Didyougiveittohim?’‘No,ofcoursenot,’saidRoboute,sittingdownagain.Emiltookadrink,swirlingtheliquoraroundhismouthbeforespeakingagain.‘Whynot?’‘Whatdoyoumean?’‘Imean,whynot?’saidEmil.‘We’vegotourpayment.We’veflownoutthisfar.Wedon’tneedtogo

intotheScar.’‘That’sjustwhatBlaylocksaid.’‘Thenmaybehe’snotsoignorantafterall.’‘I’mnotgivingthemit,’saidRoboute.‘Notuntilwe’rethrough.Ihavetodothis,Emil.’‘Why?Anddon’t giveme that crap aboutnewhorizons.That kindof linemightworkonpretty

girls,butthisismeyou’retalkingto.AndwhileIknowI’mpretty,I’mnotstupid.’‘You’renotpretty,’saidRoboute.‘Okay,maybenot,butI’mcertainlynotstupid.’‘No,’agreedRoboute.‘Butyou’rewrong.EverythingItoldthemaboutwhyIwanttodothisistrue.

Allthattalkofventuringintotheunknown,seeingthingsthatnoone’severseenbefore.Imeanteverywordof it,everydamnword. I’mnotcutout fora lifeof tradingandmerchants, I’manexploreratheart.Iwanttoseesomethingthat’snotstampedwithskullsorcoveredindustorjustwaitingtogettorndownbythenextinvader.AllI’veseeninthisgalaxyiswaranddeathanddestruction.I’vehadmyfillofit,andIwanttofindsomewherethat’sneverheardoftheImperiumortheRuinousPowersororksorwitches.Iwanttogetoutofhere.’

‘Youdon’tmeantocomeback,doyou?’Robouteshookhishead.‘No,Idon’t.’‘Wereyouplanningontellingme?’

‘IthinkIjustdid.’‘WhatabouttheRenard?’‘She’llneedagoodcaptain,’saidRoboute.‘AndIcanthinkofonlyonemanI’dtrustwithherifI’m

notgoingtoflyher.’Emilsippedhisdrinkandshookhishead.‘Sheneedsyouatthehelm,Roboute.You’rehercaptain,

notme.Hell,I’djustloseherinabadhandofKnightsandKnaves.’‘Youlosemyshipinacardgame,I’llcomebackfrombeyondthegalaxyandshootyoumyself.’‘There,yousee,youcan’tleave,’saidEmil,finishinghisdrinkandheadingbackouttothebridge.

HepausedatthedoorandturnedbacktofaceRoboute,hisfacedrapedinuncertainty,asthoughhewantedtospeak,butwasn’tsureheshould.

‘Whatisit?’askedRoboute.‘Nothingreally,’saidEmil.‘It’sjustthatGideonhadhimselfanightmare.’GideonTeivelwastheRenard’sastropath,aghostlyindividualwhorarelyjoinedthecrewatfoodor

relaxation.Hespentmostofhistimealoneinhissolitarychoirchamber,studyinghisoneirocriticaorwanderingtheemptyhallsontheupperdecks.Forhimtohavespokentooneofthecrewwascertainlyoutoftheordinary.

‘Didhesaywhatwasitabout?’‘Notreally,’saidEmil.‘Justthatitwasabadone.Yourememberthelasttimehehadanightmare?’Roboutedid.‘OntherunbetweenJouraandLodan.Thenightbeforewetranslatedintothewarp

andthatcrazypyskerwentnutsandalmostkilledusall.What’syourpoint?’‘Thatmaybeyourneedtogetawayisn’tworthusallgettingkilled.’‘Shutthedooronyourwayout,’saidRoboute,hisexpressionhardening.WithEmilgone,Robouteputhisheadinhishandsandslidtheastrogationcompasstowardshim.

Hetappedtheglassagain,harderthistime,andastrangefeelingofinevitabilitysweptthroughhimashestaredattheneedle.

Eversincetheyhadtranslatedin-systemtheneedlehadn’tsomuchastwitched.ItscourseandhiswereaimedunerringlyfortheheartoftheHaloScar.

Microcontent18

TheHaloScar.Nooneknewhowithadcomeintoexistence,agraveyardofstarsagedbeyondtheirtimeanda regionofgravitationalhellstorms thatbent the local spacetimebyordersofmagnitude.NavigatorswhostrayedtooclosetotheScarwiththeirthirdeyeexposedwerekilledinstantly,theirheartsstoppeddeadmid-beat.Astropathscaughtinanunciotrancewentmad,screamingandclawingattheirskullsasiftoexpungehorrorstheycouldneverputintowords.

Eventhosewholookedwithmortaleyesbegantoseethingsinitstortureddepths.Gravitationalcrushpressuresthatwouldcompressentireplanets toamolecule-sizedgrain inaheartbeat twistedanddistortedthepassageoflightandtimewitharecklessandrandomdisregardforcausality.

Toapproachthewoundthat lappedattheedgeoftheImperiumashiphadtoblinditself totherealities beyond thoseperceivedbymortal senses, and even then itwasdangerous to approach tooclosely. TheSperanza had halted three AU from the edge of theHalo Scar, and Saiixekwas alreadyhavingtoincreaseengineoutputtomaintaintheirpositionasquestingtendrilsofgravitysoughttopullthemintotheScar’sembrace.

Amaddenedfrothofrelativisticallycollidinglightandtimepaintedableakpictureacrossthefarwall of theSperanza’s commanddeck.Fromone side to theother, anentoptic representationof theHaloScar’s immense and impossibly tempestuousdepths seemed tomock the gatheredmagi, as ifdaringthemtoexplainitorventureahypothesisastohowitmightbenavigated.Streamsofhyper-densegaseousmatter flailedat theedges,hardenough tocut throughacapital ship likeahotwirethroughthinplastek.Billowingcloudsofflexinglightreachedout likethetendrilsofsomedeepseacephalopodhuntingforprey.

Colours boiled and spontaneously altered their electromagnetic wavelengths with each passingsecond,andswirlingeddiesofdistortinggravitythrewupimagesofdyingstars,cascadingstreamsofdebrisfromthebirthofthoseself-samestars.Lightfromthesamestarregisteredoverandoveragainas itwas bent tortuously by the unimaginable gravitational forces, juddering through spacetime inmultiple waves. Digital hallucinations of celestial madness flickered in and out of focus as theprotestingimagingmachinesstruggledtorepresenttheimpossibleregionofspacebeforethem.

‘Whatwasthat?’askedKotovasanotherphantomimageflickeredontothepanoramicdisplay.

MagosBlaylockinstantlysyncedhisvisiontowhereKotovwaslooking,butbythentheimagehadvanished.

‘Whatdidyousee,archmagos?’inquiredBlaylock.‘Astarship,’hesaid.‘Isawastarship.IntheScar.’‘Impossible,’ saidAzuramagelli,hisarmature flexing in irritation. ‘Ourshipsare theonlyvessels

outhereformillionsofkilometres.’‘Isawashipoutthere,’saidKotov.‘Oneofours.TheCardinalBoras.’‘A future echo,’ saidGalatea. ‘Thegravitational forces are throwingback reflections of light and

spacetimethathasyettoreachus.WhatyousawwasmostlikelyanimprintofthefleetasitwillbeasweentertheScar.’

Kotovsaidnothing,unsettledbywhathehadseen,butunwillingtoexpoundonitsdetails.Anumberofremotely-piloteddroneshadalreadybeensentoutintothefringesoftheHaloScar,

somewithservitorsaboard,otherswithmenialdeckcrewspickedupbyskitariiarmsmen,andtheirfindingsappearedtosupportGalatea’shypothesis.

Inallcases,theresulthadbeenthesame;thecrafthadbeencrushedortornapartwithinsecondsofreachinganarbitrarylinethatcorrespondedtotheedgeoftheanomaly.BiometricreadingsfromtheimplantedcrewmanfedbacktotheSperanza,butshowednothingthatcouldn’tbesurmisedfromthefluctuatingreadingsbeingprocessedbythedataengines;pressure,heatandlightreadingsbeyondmeasurement.

TheonlydiscoveryofnoteachievedbythedeathsoftheimplantedcrewwasawilddistortionofchronometrythatsuggestedthattimeitselfwascompressedandelongatedbythegravitationalsheerwithintheHaloScar.

‘Rapturous, is it not?’ said Galatea, rocking back and forth on its palanquin beside Kotov’scommandthrone.‘Overfourthousandyearsofstudyanddatacollection,andeventhenweknowonlyafractionofitssecrets.’

‘That’s not very reassuring, when you’re supposed to be guiding us through it,’ said Kotov, hishindbrain ghosting through the Speranza’s noospheric network while his primary consciousnessresidedonthecommanddeck.Galatea’stouchwaseverywhereintheship’sguts,millionsoffurcatingtrailsoflambentlightthatbledanddividedallthroughthevitalnetworksoftheship.Notinvasively,butcloseenoughtolife-support,enginecontrolsandgravitytoensurethathedaredordernohostilemovesagainstGalatea.

‘Whentraversingalabyrinth,weonlyneedtoknowthecorrectpath,noteverythingaroundit,’saidGalatea. ‘Fear not, archmagos, we will guide your ship through this labyrinth, but it will not be ajourneywithoutperil.Youshouldexpecttosuffergreatlossesbeforewereachtheotherside.’

Magos Kryptaestrex looked up, his heavy, rectangular form flexing with the motion of hisnumerous servo-arms and manipulators. More like an enginseer than a high-ranking magos,Kryptaestrexwas brutish anddirect, an adeptwhowasunafraid of gettinghismetaphorical handsdirtyinthegutsofastarship.

Liketherestoftheseniormagi,Kryptaestrexhadbeenhorrifiedatthedevil’sbargainKotovhadstruckwithGalatea.More than anyone – evenKotovhimself –Kryptaestrexhad adeep connection

withtheinnerworkingsoftheship,andithadbeenhisinspectionofitskeysystemsthatconvincedtheothersthatKotovhadnochoicebuttoallowGalateatoasgoodashijacktheship.

‘Nothingofworthiseverachievedwithoutloss,’saidKotov.‘AllthosewhoselivesaresacrificedintheQuestforKnowledgewillberemembered.’

‘That’sright,’giggledGalatea.‘TheMechanicusneverdeletesanything.Ifonlyyouknewhowtruethatwas,youwouldseehowblindedyouhavebecome,howenslavedyouallarebyyourownhandsandlackofvision.Thetruthisallaroundyou,butyoudonotseeit,becauseyouhaveforgottenhowtoquestion.’

‘Whatareyoutalkingabout?’saidKotov.‘ThecoretenetoftheAdeptusMechanicusistoseekoutnewknowledge.’

‘No,’saidGalatea,asthoughdisappointed.‘Youseekoutoldknowledge.’And for a fraction of a second, Kotov dearly wished he had a squad of Cadian soldiers on the

commanddeck,warriors freeofaugmentationorweapons that couldbedeactivated,overloadedorturnedonfriendlytargets.JustahandfulofCadianveteranswithgleamingExecutionerblades...

Of course Magos Dahan and Reclusiarch Kul Gilad had proposed an armed response to wrestGalatea from the Speranza, but Kotov had quickly scotched the idea, knowing that it was in alllikelihood able to hear their discussions.Nowhere on the ship could be considered secure, and thisclose to theHaloScar, takinga shipoutbeyond the voidswouldbe suicide.At the slightesthintofthreat,Galateacouldwreakirreparabledamagetotheship,maybeevendestroyit.Giventhecurrentalignmentof theirpurposeand thatofGalatea, the safest courseof actionwas togoalongwith itswishesandturnascripturalblindeyetothetechno-hereticalfactofitsexistence.

MagosAzuramagellistoodinaweofthemachinesentience,itsphysicalappearancesoclosetohisownarmature-containedformthattheycouldhavebeencraftedfromthesameSTC.Ofallthemagi,heseemedtheleastrevoltedbytheideaofasentientmachineaugmentedbyhumanbrains,perhapsbecause it was a single – albeit dangerous – leap of logic for him to attempt a transfer into amechanicalbodywithaninbuiltlogicengineinwhichtoimprinthispersonalitymatrix.

Saiixek paid the creature no mind, wreathed in an obscuring fog of condensing vapour as heappliedsubtlehapticcontroltotheengines.FewhaddaredapproachthisclosetotheHaloScar,andhewastakingnochancesthatarogueenginesurgeorreactorspikewouldhurlthemintoitsdepthsataspeednotofhischoosing.ItwouldbeSaiixekwhowouldcontroltheshipduringtheirentry,guidedbyastrogationdataprovidedbyGalateatotheTychonsdownintheastrogationchamber.

‘MagosSaiixek,areyouready?’askedGalatea.‘As I’ll ever be,’ snapped Saiixek, unwilling to pass anymorewords thanwere necessarywith a

machineintelligence.‘Thenwewillbegin,’saidGalatea.Kotovgrippedthearmsofhiscommandthrone,thinkingbacktohisfleetingimageofthestarship

echoedinthemirrorofdistortedspacetime.Evennowhecouldn’tbesureofwhathehadobserved,buttheonethinghehadbeensureofwasthatthevesselhehadseenwasingreatpain.

No,notpain.Ithadbeendying.

Hundreds of decks below the command bridge, Vitali and Linya Tychon stood before an identicalrendition of theHalo Scar. Themachine-spirits of the chamberwere restless and not even Vitali’ssoothingtouchorchildlikeprayerswereeasingtheirskittishness.Linyaheldfasttoherfather’shand,anxiousandfearful,buttryingnottoletitshow.

‘There isn’t enough data here,’ she said. ‘Not enough to plot a course. Even a primus gradehexamathcouldn’tcalculateapaththroughthis.Whenthefirstgravitytidehitsuswe’llbedrawnintotheheartofadeadstar,crushedtoatomsorpulledapartintofragments.’

Her father turned to face her, his hooddrawnback over his shaven scalp. Theplastek implantsbeneathhisskinrobbedhimofmostconventionalexpressions,but theonethatalwaysmanagedtoshinethroughwaspaternalpride.

‘MydearLinya,’hesaid.‘Idonotbelievewehavecomethisfartofail.HavefaithinthewilloftheOmnissiahandwewillbeguidedbyhislight.’

‘You should listen to your father, LinyaTychon,’ said a disembodied voice that echoed from thewallswithaboomingresonance.

And data poured into the astrogation chamber, information-dense light rising up like breakerscrashingagainstthebaseofacliff.

AttheinsistenceofKulGilad,theAdytumwasthefirstshiptoenterthefringesoftheHaloScar.TheyweretheEmperor’scrusaders,andassuchtheywouldbethefirsttodrivethebladeoftheirshipintotheunknown.Ordinarily,suchanhonourwouldgototheflagshipofthearchmagos,buttoriskashipasvaluableastheSperanzawasdeemedtoodangerous,andtheReclusiarch’sdemandwasaccepted.

Galatea fed its course to theAdytum’s navigation arrays, taking the ship into the Scar on a low,upwardly curving trajectory through a patch of distorted light that shed spindrifts of gravitationaldebris. Archmagos Kotov watched the Space Marine vessel with a mixture of fear and hope,desperatelyhopingthatGalatea’smadnesswasonlyconfinedtoitshomicidalbehavioursandthatitscomputationalskillswereundiminished.

TheAdytum’s voids clashed and shrieked as conflicting field energies pulled at the ship from alldirectionsandquickly-snuffedexplosionsspumedalongitsflanksasthegeneratorsblewoutoneafteranother.ItappearedasthoughtheBlackTemplarsshipwasstretchingoutbeforethem,butastheirclosurespeedsbroughtthemupbehindthesmallervessel,thatextrapolationdiminished.

Purpleandredsquallsofspace-timeflurriesclosedinaroundtheBlackTemplarsshipanditwassoon lost to sight.Moonchild followed, its longerhull shudderingunder the impact of roguegravitywaves. Portions of armour plating peeled back and spun off into space, like wings pulled from atrapped insectile creature by a spiteful child. Like theAdytum before it,Moonchild lost its voids in asilentprocessionofexplosionsmarchingalongitslength.

CardinalBoraswentnext, following the exact same trajectoryasMoonchild, forGalateahadbeenvery specific: todeviate from its coursewould invitedisaster andexposea ship to the tempestuous

wrath of theHalo Scar. It too vanished into the cataclysmic nebula of primal forces andwas soonswallowedbyblossomingcurtainsofelectromagneticradiation,hideousgravityriptidesandcelestialtreachery.

ThenitwastheturnoftheSperanzaandherattendantfleetofsupportshipstoenter.Kotov felt theentireshipshudderas itwasenfoldedby theHaloScar.Theviewscreenentoptics

hazedwith staticandabarrageof scrapcodegibberish.Awashofbrokenbinary squealed from theaugmittersandeverymachinewithavisuallinktothecommanddeckblewoutinahailofsparks.

Bridgeservitorswithlimitedemergencyautonomyassignedlower-sentiencecyberneticsthetaskof repairing those links and bringing the Speranza’s senses back online. Kryptaestrex oversaw therepairefforts,whileAzuramagelliattemptedtokeepupwithGalatea’srapidlyevolvingcalculationsasthegravitationaltempestssurgedandretreated,apparentlyatrandom,butwhichGalateaassuredhimconformedtopatternstoocomplexforeventheSperanza’slogicenginestoidentify.

‘You know, Tarkis,’ said Kotov. ‘If you’d spoken to me about turning back now, I might havelistenedtoyou.’

‘I doubt it, archmagos,’ said Blaylock. ‘You do not dare return to Mars empty-handed, and nomattertherisks,youwillalwaysdesiretopushonwards.’

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.We’re explorators, pushing onwards is how we advance thefrontiersofknowledge.Alittleriskinsuchventuresisneverabadthing.’

‘Therisk/rewardratiointhisventureisweightedfarmoretowardsrisk,’saidBlaylock. ‘LogicallyweshouldreturntoMars,butyourneedtopushtheboundarieswillnotallowforsuchacourse.’

‘Better to push too far than not far enough,’ said Kotov as another thunderous gravity sheerslammedintotheSperanza.‘Wherewouldwebeifwealwaysplayedsafe?WhatmannerofOmnissiahwouldweserveifwedidnotalwaysstrivetoachievethatwhichothersdeemedimpossible?Toreachforthestarsjustoutofreachiswhatmakesusstrong.Tofightforthethingsthatdemandsacrificeandrisk iswhatearnsusourpre-eminentplace in thegalactichierarchy.By thedeedsofmen likeus ismankindkeptmighty.’

‘Thenletushopethatposterityremembersusforwhatweachievedandnotourdoomedattempt.’‘AveDeusMechanicus,’saidKotovinagreement.Blaylock’s floodstreamsurgedwithdata, ablisteringheathazeof informational light thatmade

Kotov’sinloadmechanismsflinch.AnexusofinformationribbonedthroughtheairbetweenBlaylockandGalatea,andKotov tookamoment toadmireBlaylock’sattempt tomatch itsprocessingspeed.Thedata-burdenwasthreateningtooverwhelmBlaylock’ssystems,andhewasonlyparsingatenthofwhatGalateawasfeedingthefleet’snavigationalarrays.

‘Giveup,Tarkis,’saidKotov.‘You’llburnoutyourfloodstreamandgiveyourselfdataburn.’‘Thatwouldbesensible,archmagos,’agreedBlaylock,hisbinarystrainedandfragmentary.‘Butto

seesuchrawmathematicalpowerunleashedisstaggering.Ihaveknownnothinglikeit,andIsuspectIneverwill again.Hence Iwill attempt to learnall I can fromthiscreaturebeforeweare forced todestroyit.’

KotovflinchedathisFabricatusLocum’swords.‘Authority:Keepsentimentslikethatquiet.’‘Informational: the cybernetic hybrid creature’s neuromatrix is under far too great a stress of

computationalastro-calculustobedirectinganyenergytosensoryinloadsatpresent.’‘Andyouwouldriskeverythingonthatassumption?’‘Itisnotanassumption.’‘Idon’tcare,’snappedKotov.‘Keepsuchthoughtstoyourselfinfuture.’KotovstaredatGalatea,fearingthatBlaylockwasunderestimatingitsabilitytosplinteritscortex

andkeepitssensoryinloadsgoingwhilethemajorityofitsgestaltmachineconsciousnesswasdevotedtoitsreal-timenavigationalprocessing.ItseemedthatBlaylockwasright,forGalateawasenvelopedinspirallingstreamsofdata,trajectories,storm-vectors,gravitationalfluxarraysandprecisechrono-readingsthatspun,advancedandretreatedwitheachhammerblowofgravity.

Liketheshipsbeforeit,theSperanza’svoidsblewout,andonebyonethelinkstotheothershipsinthe fleet began to fail. Conventional auspexes were useless in the Halo Scar, and even the morespecialiseddetectionarraysmountedonthevastprowoftheArkMechanicusreturnedreadingsthatwere all butmeaningless.Kryptaestrex bent all his efforts to appeasing the auspex spirit hosts andassigningachoirofadulatorstothefrontalsectionstoshoreupthehymnalbuttresses.

Warningscameinfromallacrosstheshipaslocalconditionsprovedtooarduousforthedifferentregions of the vessel to endure.Decks twisted anddistortedby randomsqualls of gravity and timeruptured and blew their contents out into space, where they were crushed in an instant by theimmenseforcessurroundingtheship.

Entireforgesweretornfromtheundersideoftheshipasthekeelbentoutoftrueandunderwenttorsionwaybeyond its tolerances.Centuries-old temples tomanufacturewere flattened the instanttheyseparatedfromtheship,andhundredsofarmouredvehiclesrecentlyconstructedfortheCadianregimentwerepulledapartinseconds.Tworefineries,oneoneitherflankoftheSperanza,exploded,sendingwidedispersalsofburningpromethiumandrefinedfycelineoreintotheship’swake,wheretheyignitedingarishstreamsofblazinglightthatgravitycompressionstretchedoutformillionsofkilometres.

Kotovfelttheship’spainasititwastornfromsidetoside,buffetedbytorturedpocketsofgravityandforcedtoendureswirlingeddiesofrupturedtime.Wheregravitypocketsintersected,heshareditspainasitshullwastornopenanditsinnerworkingsexposedtoforcesnosanedesignercouldeverhaveexpectedittosuffer.

The Speranza was howling across every channel it possessed: binaric, noospheric, data-light,Manifold,augmitterandvox.Kotovsenseditsdistressalongpathwaysevenhehadnotknownexisted,anditspainwashispain.Itssufferingwashissuffering,andheofferedaprayerofforgivenesstoitsmightyheart,supplicationtothehurtitwassufferinginitsservicetotheAdeptusMechanicus.

IftheysurvivedtoreachtheothersideoftheHaloScar,thengreatappeasementswouldneedtobemadeinthanksforsodifficultatransit.

Theshipdroppedsuddenly,asthoughinthegripofaplanet’sgravitationalenvelope,andKotovgrippedtheedgesofhiscommandthroneashefeltsteelandadamantiumteardeepwithinthebodyoftheship.Moreexplosionsventedcompartmentsintothehellstormsurroundingthem,andthecriesoftheSperanzagrewevermorefrantic.

Andthis,thoughtKotov,wastheeyeofthestorm.

The shipquakeswracking theSperanzawere felt just as keenly throughout the lower reaches of theship.Inthemaintenancespaces,teamsofemergencyservitorscycledthroughtheenginedecksandplasmadrivechambersemittingsoothingbinariccants to theafflictedmachines.Onlythosemortalworkers deemed expendable were tasked with maintaining the volatile and highly specialisedworkingsofthegreatenginesoftheArkMechanicus.

ForonceAbrehem’s reveredstatushadworked inhis favour.TogetherwithHawke,CrushaandCoyne, he had been singled out to spend the shuddering journey through the Halo Scar on adownshift.Therespitewaswelcome,butAbrehemwasitchytogetbacktodoingsomethingthatfeltlike itmattered.Eversince theirescape fromthereclamationchambers,hisdutieshadbecome lessphysicallyonerousandmuchmoreobviouslyrelevanttotheoperationsoftheenginedeck.

Forthe last fewshifts,heandCoynehadbeengiventasksthatalmostresembledthe jobsthey’dhad on Joura, managing lifter rigs and directing the fuel transfers from the deep hangars to theplasma chambers. It was still thankless, demanding and dangerous work, but spoke of the deepreverenceeventheiroverseershadforthosetheMachine-Godhadsingledout.

TothaMu-32wasVresh’s replacement,andwhereVreshhadbeenunthinking inhis crueltyanduncaringinhisministrations,TothaMu-32wasamorespiritualmemberoftheCultMechanicus.Heappearedtorecognisetheveryrealdangersfacedbytheenginedeckcrewsandwascognisantofthevitalnatureof theirwork.Togetherwithanup-deckmagosnamedPavelkaandanenginseercalledSylkwood,TothaMu-32wasworkingtogettheenginesfunctioningatfullcapacitybyharnessingthedevotionofthemenandwomeninhiscohorts.PavelkawastypicalMechanicus,butSylkwoodwasn’tafraidofgettingherhandsdirtyinthegutsofanenginehatch.

Conditions were still hard, but they were improving. TothaMu-32 drove his charges hard, butAbrehemhadalwaysbeenoftheopinionthatworkshouldbehard.Notimpossible,buthardenoughtofeel that theday’s effortmadea valuable contribution.Wherewas the rewardand senseofpride ifworkwereeasy?HowcouldsuchservicebemeasuredworthyoftheMachine-God?

Hawke,ofcourse,hadlaughedatthat,pouringscornontheideaofworkasdevotionalservice.ToHawke,workwasforotherpeople,andthebestkindofworkwasworkavoided.Likemanyof thoseon thedownshift,Abrehem,Coyneand Ismaelgathered inoneof themany

engine shrines dotted around the deck spaceswhile the ship groaned and creaked around themasthough trying to pull itself apart. This shrinewas a long narrow space slotted between a grunting,emphysemic vent tube and a bank of cable trunking, each thrumming cable thicker than a healthyman’s chest. It seemedwherever therewasa spacebetween functional elementsof theengineeringspaces,ashrinetotheMachine-Godwouldappear,completewithitsownIconMechanicusfashionedfromwhateveroff-cuts anddebris couldbe scavengedandworked into itsnew form.Suchoff-the-schemata installations were, in theory, forbidden, but no overseer or tech-priest would dream ofdismantling a shrine to theOmnissiah on an engine deck, a placewhere a servant of theMachinemightbefatallypunishedforamoment’slackoffaith.

The bisected machine skull at the end of this particular nave was a mosaic constructed from

plasmaflectsscavengedfromthereclamationchambers.AbrehemandCoyne’sformerdockoverseerkneltbefore the icon,hishands claspedbeforehim likea childatprayer. Ismael’s eyeshadanodd,farawaylooktothemthatspokeofabrokenmindandfracturedmemory.Theglassyskullglintedinthewinkinglightsoftheventtubeandagentlyswayingelectro-flambeauasthedecktiltedfromonesidetotheother.

‘Thatwasabadone,’saidCoyneastheventtubegroanedandacrackappearedintheweldseamjoiningtwosectionsofpipeworktogether.Hissing,lubricant-sweetenedoilmoistenedtheairwithachemicalstink.

‘They’re all bad ones,’ said Abrehem, reading the frightened hisses, burps and squeals of binaryechoingfromthecablesastheycarriedinformationthroughouttheship.‘Theshipisscared.’

‘Buggertheship,I’mjustaboutreadytopissmydrawers,’saidHawke,pushingasidethecanvasdoorsofthetempleandsittingdownnexttoAbrehem.CrushafollowedbehindHawke,carryingapairofbulky-lookinggunnysacksoverhisshoulders.Thewallsshook,andAbrehemfeltsuddenlyheavyastheshiplurchedlikearaftinastorm.Hedidn’tliketothinkofthekindsofforcesthatcouldaffectashipascolossalasanArkMechanicus.

‘Hush,’saidCoyne.‘Abitofrespect,eh?Rememberwhereyouare.’‘Right,’ said Hawke, making a quick Cog symbol over his chest. ‘Sorry, just never liked being

remindedI’minapressurisedironboxflyingthroughspace.’Abrehemnodded.Itwaseasytoforgetthatthecavernousspacesinwhichtheylived,workedand

sleptweren’tonthesurfaceofaplanet,thattheywere,infact,hurtlingthroughthevoidatvertiginousspeedsonagiganticmachinethathadamillionwaystokillthemwithmalfunction.

‘Youknow,foronceIfindmyselfincompleteagreementwithyou,’saidAbrehem.‘Comeon,’saidHawke.‘Youmakeitsoundlikewedisagreeallthetime.’‘Ican’tthinkofanyoneelseIdisagreewithmore.’‘Istheshipin...danger?’saidIsmael,stillonhiskneesbeforetheIconMechanicus.‘Yes,’saidAbrehem.‘Theshipisindanger.’‘Canyoumake itbetter likeyoumademebetter?’askedIsmael,risingtohis feetandcomingto

standbeforehim,handsslackathissides.‘Ididn’tmakeyoubetter,Ismael,’saidAbrehem.‘Youtookablowtotheheadandthatrearranged

bitsofyourbrain,Ithink.ThebitstheMechanicusshutoff,they’recomingbacktoyou.Well,someofthematleast.’

‘Savickas,’saidIsmael,holdingouthisarmandlettingtheelectoodrifttothesurfaceagain.‘Yes,Savickas,’smiledAbrehem,pullinghissleeveuptoshowtheidenticalelectoo.‘You are right, the ship is in great pain,’ said Ismael, hiswords halting and slow, as thoughhis

damagedbrainwasonlyjustclingingontoitsfacilityforlanguage.‘Wecanfeelitsfearandithurtsusall.’

‘We?’saidAbrehem.‘Whoelsedoyoumean?’‘The others,’ said Ismael. ‘Like me. I can... feel... them. Their voices are in my head, faint, like

whispers.Icanhearthemandtheycanhearme.Theydonotliketohearme.IthinkIremindthem.’‘Remindthemofwhat?’askedCoyne.

‘Ofwhattheyusedtobe.’‘Ishealwaysgoingtotalklikethat?’askedHawke,asCrushalaidthetwogunnysacksathisfeet

beforemovingpast Ismael to the skull icon at the far endof the shrine. Like Ismael,Crushahad achildlikerespectforritualanddevotion.

‘Idon’tknow,’saidAbrehem.‘I’veneverheardofaservitorretaininganyknowledgeofitsformerlife,soI’mguessingreally.’

‘Itsoundslikedeepdowntheyrememberwhotheywere,’saidCoyne.‘Thor’sballs,Ihopenot,’saidHawke.‘Trappedinyourownheadasaslave,screamingallthetime

andknowingthatnoonecaneverhearyou.That’sjustabouttheworstthingIcanimagine.’‘EvenafterallthestuffyousaidyousawonHydraCordatus?’‘No,Isupposenot,butyouknowwhatImean.’‘I don’t think they remember anything consciously,’ said Abrehem, hoping to avoid another

retelling ofHawke’s battles against the TraitorMarines. ‘I think theirmemory centres are the firstthingsthegemynd-shearscut.Allthat’sleftoncethey’returnedintoaservitoristhebasicmotorandcomprehensionfunctions.’

‘Soonebangontheheadandherememberswhoheis?’saidHawke.‘Weshoulddothattothemallandwe’dhaveabloodyarmy.’

AbrehemshookhisheadasHawke rummaged through the firstgunny sack.Another shipquakeshookthecrampedshrine,andAbrehemquicklymadetheCogoverhisheart.

‘Idon’tthinkit’sassimpleasthat,’saidAbrehem.‘Youcan’tmesswithsomeone’sbrainandknowexactlywhatmighthappen.’

‘Ah,who cares anyway?’ saidHawke,pulling aplastic-wrapped carton from thegunny sack andtearingthepackagingawaywithasighofpleasure.‘Thereyouare,mybeauties.’

‘What’sthat?’askedCoyne,tryingandfailingtomaskhisinterest.Hawkegrinnedandopenedapacketoflho-sticks, lightingonewithasolder-lancehangingfrom

hisbelt.Heblewoutaperfectseriesofsmokeringsand,seeingCoyneandAbrehem’sexpectantlooks,begrudgingly passed the carton over. Coyne took three, but Abrehem contented himself with one.Hawkelitthemup,andtheysmokedinsilenceforamomentastheshipshudderedaroundthemonceagainandtheelectro-flambeauclinkedonitschain.

‘Sowheredidyougetthese?’askedCoyne.‘Igotafewcontactsintheskitariinow,’saidHawke.‘Idon’twanttosaytoomuchmore,buteven

thoseaugmentedsuper-soldiershavea taste forbelow-decksshine.Afewbottleshere,a fewbottlesthere...’

‘Whatelsehaveyougotinthere?’‘This and that,’ saidHawke, enjoying keeping his answers cryptic. ‘Some food, some drink that

hasn’tgottraceelementsofengineoilandpissrunningthroughit,andsomebitsoftechIthinkIcanusetotradewithsomeoftheoverseers.Turnsoutthey’reprettyfardownthepeckingordertoo,andaren’taversetotheoddbitofcommercethatmakeslifealittlemorecomfortable.’

‘Whatcouldyouhavethatanoverseerwouldpossiblywant?’‘Neveryoumind,’saidHawke,wagginganadmonishingfinger.‘I’malreadytellingyoutoomuch,

but seeingashowwe’repracticallybrothersnow, I’dbewilling to cut youboys inonapieceof theaction.’

‘Whatkindofactioncouldyouget?’‘Nothing toomuch to startwith. I’m thinkingmaybewecanget someextra foodor somepure-

filteredwater.Thenifthingsworkout,wemightseeaboutgettingsomebetterquartersortransfertoadeckthatisn’tkillinguswithrad-bleedortoxinrunoff.GivemesixmonthsandI’llhaveusinacushynumber,wherewedon’thavetodoanyworkatall.It’sallaboutwhoyouknow,andthat’sjustastrueonastarshipasiteverwasintheGuard.’

‘Youcouldreallydothat?’askedCoyne.‘Sure,noreasonwhynot,’saidHawke.‘I’vegotthesmarts,andI’vegotCrushaiffolkstartgetting

uppity.’‘Youstartmakingmoves likethatyou’regoingtopissoffa lotofpeople,’warnedAbrehem. ‘And

Crushacan’tkeepyousafeallthetime.’‘Iknow,I’mnotanidiot,’saidHawke.‘That’swhyIgotthis.’Hawkereachedintothesecondgunnysackandpulledoutascuffedandbatteredcase,heldclosed

byanumericlock.Hepunchedinafivedigitcodeandremovedanancient-lookingpistolwithalongbarrelofcoiledinductionloopsandaheavypower-cellthatsnappedintothehandle.Thematt-blackfinish of the gunwas chipped and scratched, but themechanismappeared to bewell-cared-for, anantiquewithsentimentalvalue.

‘HolyThrone,wheredidyougetthat?’saidCoyne.‘Itoldyou,Igottoknowsomeoftheskitarii,’saidHawke.‘TheyheardIwasex-Guardandwegot

totalking,and...hereweare.’‘Doesitevenwork?Itlookslikeit’saboutathousandyearsold.’Hawkeshrugged.‘Ithinkso.I’mbettingitdoesn’tmatterthough.Youpointitatsomeoneandall

they’regoingtobeworriedaboutisgettingtheirheadblownoff.’‘Putitaway,’hissedAbrehem.‘Iftheoverseersseeyouwiththat,you’llbethrownoutofanairlock

orturnedintoaservitor.Andprobablyustoo.’‘Relax,’saidHawke,‘they’renotgoingtofindit.’Hawke looked up as Ismael appeared at his shoulder, the servitor looking confused and

disorientated.‘Whatdoyouwant?’spatHawke.‘That gun,’ said Ismael. ‘Helicon Pattern subatomic plasma pistol, lethal range two hundred

metres,accuratetoonehundredmetres.Coilcapacity;tenshots,rechargetimebetweenshots;twenty-fivepointseventhreeseconds.Manufacturediscontinuedin843.M41duetooverheatmarginincreaseofforty-sevenpercentpershotbeyondthefifth.’

‘Youknowaboutguns?’askedHawke.‘Iknowaboutguns?’askedtheservitor.‘Youtellme,you’retheonewhojustrecitedthebloodyinstructionmanual,’saidHawke.‘I...had...guns,’saidIsmael,haltingly.‘IthinkIrememberusingthem.IthinkIwasverygood.’‘Really?’saidHawke.‘Nowthatisinteresting.’

Microcontent19

The first indication that the crossing of the Halo Scar would involve sacrifice came in a broad-spectrumdistresscallfromtheBladeofVoss.ThenearestvesseltotheescortwasCardinalBoras,anditscaptain, a hoary veteranmariner by the name of Enzo Larousse, was a shipmasterwho had sailedtreacherous regions of space and lived to tell the tale. As executive officer of the Retribution-classwarshiphehadtraversedsomeoftheworstwarpstormseverrecorded,andascaptainhadbroughthisshipbackfromVentunius’sdisastrousexpeditiontothenorthernWolfStars.

Larousseranatightshipwithafirmhandthatrecognisedthevalueeachcrewmanbroughttotheship.Hisbridgestaffwerewell-drilledandefficient,hisbelow-deckscrewnolessso,andapalpablesenseofprideandloyaltywasfeltoneverydeck.

The screams on the voxwere awful to hear, sometimes distorted and stretched, like a recordingplayed too slow, sometimes shrieking and shrill. Crushing gravity waves compressed the time andspace through which the vox-traffic was passing, twisting the words of each message beyondrecognition,butleavingtheterriblesenseofterroranddesperationundiminished.

Larousse’sbridgecrewfeltthehorrificfearoftheircompatriotsaboardBladeofVoss,andwaitedfortheir captain to give an order. Seated onhis command throne, Larousse listened to the screams offellow mariners, all too aware of how dangerous the space through which they sailed was, butunwillingtoabandonthestrickenship.

‘MisterCassen,slowtoonethird,’heordered.‘Captain...’warnedCassen.‘Wecan’thelpthem.’‘Deckofficer,raisetheblastshutters,Iwanttoseewhatintheblazesishappeningoutthere,’said

Larousse,ignoringhisExecutiveOfficer. ‘Surveyorcontrol,seewhatyoucanget,andsomeoneraisethebloodySperanza.Theyneedtoknowwhat’shappeninghere.’

‘Captain,we have a precise course laid in,’ saidCassen. ‘Orders from the archmagos are not todeviatefromit.’

‘Tothewarpwiththearchmagos,’snappedLarousse.‘He’salreadyabandonedoneship,andI’llbedamnedifwe’regoingtoleaveanotheronebehind.’

‘Surveyorsaredead,captain,’camethereportfromtheauspexarrays.

‘Noauspex,novox,novoids,’snarledLarousse.‘Anotherbloodyfool’serrand.’‘Blastshuttersraising.’Larousseturnedhisattentiontothehellishmaelstromofugly,rawlightthatspilledaroundthem,

the excretions of dying stars and the bleeding light and spacetime surrounding them.Hypnoticallydeadly,coruscatingshoalsofultra-compressedstellarmatterpaintedspacebeforetheCardinalBoraswithsplashesoflightthatwrithedandexplodedandsnappedbackasitwasdeformedbythetitanicenergiesofthetorturedgravityfields.

‘HolyTerra,’breathedLarousse.InthebottomquadrantoftheviewingscreenwastheBladeofVoss,closeenoughthat itcouldbe

seenwithout theneed for surveyors, auspexor radiation slates. The shipwas caught in a squallingburstofgravityfromastarthatappearedtobenobiggerthananorbitalplateorthegreatsegmentumfortressanchoredatKarDuniash.Convergentstreamsofgravitywerecoalescingintoaperfectstormofhyper-densewavesofcrushingforce.

AndtheBladeofVosswascaughtatthebleedingedgeofthatstorm.Plates of armour tens of metres thick were peeling back from her hull and the ship had an

unnaturaltorsionbreakingherapartalongheroverstretchedkeel.Compoundinggravitationalsheerforcesweretearingtheshipapart,andthoughhermater-captainwasfightingtobreaktheshipfree,Laroussesawthatwasafightshecouldn’twin.

‘Takeusin,MisterCassen,’orderedLarousse.‘Fullaheadandcomeinonherstarboardside.IfwecanblocksomeofthewavefrontsfromhittingtheBlade,shemightbeabletobreakfree.’

‘Captain,wecan’tgettoocloseorwe’llbepulledintoo,’warnedCassen.‘DoasIorder,MisterCassen,’saidLarousse,inatonethatleftnoroomforargument.‘We’vegot

morefireinourarsethanshehas.Wecanbreakfree.Shecan’t.’EvenbeforeCassencouldcarryouthisorder,Laroussesawitwastoolate.BladeofVosscameapartinasuckingimplosionasitwascrushedtofragmentsbythenightmarish

forcesatworkintheHaloScar.Strengthenedbulkheadssplitapartandtheship’sstructuralmembersblewaway likegrain stalks inahurricane. In seconds the ship’s remainswere scatteredanddrawnintothecorpse-star’smass,eachpiececompressedtoaspeckofdebrisnolargerthanagrainofsand.Larousse watched the death of the Blade of Voss with heavy heart, the honourable escort vesseldissolvingasthoughconstructedofsandanddust.

‘Captain,wehavetoturnbacktoourallottedcourse,’saidCassen,asalarmsbeganringingfromthevariousauspexstationsandtheedgesofthestormthathaddestroyedBladeofVossreachedouttoclaimanothervictim.

Laroussenodded.‘Aye,MisterCassen,’hesaidslowly,asthoughdaringthestormtotryandfightthem.‘Bringusbacktoouroriginalheading.’

‘Captain!’shoutedthejuniorofficerstationedatsurveyorcontrol.‘Ihaveaproximitycontact!’‘What?’demandedthecaptain.‘Whichshipisit?’‘Idon’tknow,captain,’saidtheofficer.‘Auspexreadingsareallovertheplace.’‘Wellwhatinblazesdoyouknow?Whereisit?’‘Ithinkit’srightbehindus.’

ThefirstvolleyfromtheStarblade’sprowpulselancesstrucktherearquarteroftheCardinalBoraswithdeadlyprecision.Guidednotbyanytargetingmatrix,butratherbyBielanna’sprescientreadingsoftheskein,theEclipsecruiser’sgunsweremoreaccuratethaneverbefore.Threeenginecompartmentswereventedtospaceandentiredeckswerecoredwithsearingwychfire.TheeldarshipkeptstationaboveandbehindtheImperialwarship,pouringitsfiredownontotheshudderingvessel.ThoughtheStarblade’s launchbayswere ladenwith fightersandbombers,nonewere launchedas theywouldbeexposedtothewitheringfireofthewarship’sclose-indefences,andBielannawasloathtoriskeldarliveswhentherewasnoneed.

Caughtwithoutshieldsandunabletooutmanoeuvreitsattacker,theCardinalBorassufferedagainandagainundertherelentlessbatteringoflancefire.Crewsfoughttocontainthedamage,butagainstrepeatedhailsofhighenergyblaststheyhadlittlechanceofsuccess.CaptainLarousseattemptedtoturnhisvesseltobringhisowngunstobear,butnosoonerhadtheheavy,wedgedprowbeguntoturnthantheStarbladedartedaway,alwayskeepingbehindtheheavywarship.

AsustainedburstoffiretooktheCardinalBoras’sdorsallances,tearingthemfromtheirmountingsas incandescent columns of light penetrated sixty decks. Vast swathes of the fighting decks wereimmolated as oxygen-rich atmosphere ignited and filled the crew spaces with terrifying fires thatburnedswiftlyandmercilessly.Gunbatteriespoundedoutexplosiveordnanceat as steepa rakeaspossible, but none could turn enough to target the merciless killer savaging them from behind.Torpedoeswerespatfromtheprowlaunchtubes,theirmachine-spiritsgivenfreereintoengageanytargettheycouldfind.

Itwasatacticofdesperation,butCaptainLaroussehadnootheroptionsopentohim.Theenormousprojectilesarcedupandovertheeagle-stampedprowandcircledinlazyfigureof

eightpatternsoveritstopside,thespiritscagedinthewarheadsbombardingtheirlocalenvironmentwithactivesurveyorblastsinanattempttolocateatarget.Mostwerequicklydraggedoffcourseanddestroyedbythepowerfulgravitywavesbuffetingthewarship,butahandfulmanagedtolockontotheghostlyauspexreturnthatflittedaroundtheenginesoftheCardinalBoras.

Yet even these solitary few flashed through a phantom target, a shimmering lie of a contactgeneratedbytheStarblade’sholofields.Whatappearedtothewar-spiritsasatargetworthyofattackturned out to be amirage, a transparency of capricious energy fluctuations, rogue electromagneticemissionsand trickster surveyorghosts.Onlyone torpedodetonated, theothers flyingon fora fewhundredkilometresbeforebeingtorntopiecesbythegravitationalforces.

Starblade was merciless in her attentions, raking the Cardinal Boras from stern to bow withstreaming pulses of lance fire. In a conventional fight, the Starblade would have had little hope ofbesting so powerful a warship. Imperial ships favoured battles of attrition, where their superiorarmour and unsubtle weapon batteries could transform the space around them into explosivehellstorms of debris and gunfire. But stripped of her void shields andwithout escorts to keep thisrapaciouspredatorfromhervulnerablerear,therewasnothingshecoulddobutsuffer.

AndtheCardinalBorassufferedlikefewothershipsoftheGothicsectorhadeversuffered.

Firesboiledthroughitsgianthallwaysandcathedralsandthosefewsaviourpodsthatmanagedtoeject were destroyed almost instantly in the harsh physics of the Halo Scar. Fighting for her verysurvival, theCardinal Boras went down hard, every scrap of firepower and speed wrung from hershudderingframeuntil therewasnothing left togive.Withthefightbeatenoutofher, theCardinalBorasspentherlastmomentsscreamingoutthenatureofherkiller.

Reducedtolittlemorethanaburned-outdriftingwreck,theancientwarshipfinallysuccumbedtothe inevitable and broke apart. Its keel, laid down over four and a half thousand years ago in theshipyard carousels of Rayvenscrag IV, finally split and the clawing forces of gravitational torsionrippedthevesselapartalongitslength.

Theswarmingriptidesofpowerfulgravitystormsfinishedthejob,disassemblingtheremnantsofthewarship’sstructureandscatteringtheminabloomofmachineparts.

Satisfiedwith themurderofCardinalBoras, theeldarvessel set its sightson itsnext victimasafuriousheatbuiltinitsbelly.AsilentprocessionofwarriorstrappedonthepathofmurderandwarmarchedinsolemnceremonytowardsashrineattheheartoftheStarblade,ascorchedtempleofcoldwraithbonethatnowseethedwithmoltenheatandvolcanicanger.

Thebrutallygracefuleldarwar-vesselknifedthroughthegravitationalhazetowardstheAdytum.Itsgunsretreatedintotheirprotectivehousing,fortheywouldnotbeusedinthisattack.ThedeathoftheSpaceMarinevesselwouldbeamuchmorepersonalslaying.TheSwordwindwastofallupontheBlackTemplars.

KulGilad heard the shouted commands from the bridge of theCardinal Boras cease, and knew themightyvesselwasdead.Evenbeforeheheardthedyingship’storturedvox-emissionsidentifyingthesourceoftherakinggunfirethatwaskillingher,theReclusiarchhadknownwhotheattackerswouldbe.Eversincetheeldarwych-womanhadslainAeliusatDantiumGateandcursedhimwithhereyes,hehadfeltthisdoomstalkinghim.

Ithadonlybeenamatteroftimeuntilshereturnedtofinishwhatshehadstarted.Perhapsbyfacingthatdoomhemightendit.ThebridgeoftheAdytumwasaspartan,metallicplaceofechoesandshadow.Aboxyspacewitha

raised rostrum at the narrowed proscenium before themain viewing bay, it was laid out with therigorousefficiencyofallSpaceMarineships.Chapterserfsmannedthekeysystemsoftheship,wolf-leanmenpluckedfromthecrewrostersof theEternalCrusader.Eachonewasa fighter,awarriorofsomeskillandrenownamongstthemortalswhoservedtheChapter,butKulGiladcountednoneofthemasbeingofanyworthinthecomingfight.

Theship’scaptainwasnamedRemar,asecondedNavalofficerboundtotheBlackTemplarsforthelastfiftyyears,anditwasfittingthathehadalsofoughttheeldarabovetheburningcitiesofDantium.Aswithanybattleagainsttheeldar,historyhadahabitofrecurringwithfatefulresonances.

‘CaptainRemar,sealthebridge,’orderedKulGilad.‘Reclusiarch?’‘Fulllockdown.Noonecomesinandnooneleaves,’saidKulGilad.‘Onlyuponmydirectauthority

doesthatdooropen.Doyouunderstandme?’‘Iunderstand,Reclusiarch,’saidRemarandhisfingersdancedoverthekeypadonthecommand

lecterntoenactKulGilad’swill.‘ReadytheBarisanforflight.’‘Mylord?’askedCaptainRemar.‘TheThunderhawkwillbeunlikelytosurviveanattackruninsuch

ahostileenvironment.Irespectfullyadviseagainstsuchacourseofaction.’‘Yourconcernisnoted,captain,’saidKulGilad.Heopenedavox-linktohisbattlesquadandtookadeepbreathbeforespeaking.‘Varda,Tanna.Youandeverymemberofthesquad,injuredandbattle-ready,aretomaketheirway

totheembarkationdeck.BoardtheBarisanandawaitfurtherorders.’ThehesitationbeforeTannaansweredshowedthathetoosharedthecaptain’sconcernsregarding

thechancesoftheThunderhawk’ssurvivalbeyondtheAdytum’sarmouredhull.‘Asyouwillit,Reclusiarch,’saidTanna.Thegunship’slightweighthullwouldnotlastlongwithoutprotection,buttheideaofquestioning

hisReclusiarch’sorderneversomuchascrossedthesergeant’smind.Thevox-linksnappedoff,andKulGiladmovedtostandbeforethecommandlectern.

‘Nopity,noremorse,nofear,’whisperedKulGilad.‘Reclusiarch?’saidCaptainRemar.‘Yes?’‘Permissiontospeakfreely?’‘Granted,’saidKulGilad.‘Youhavemorethanearnedthatright,CaptainRemar.’The captain bowed his shaven, cable-implanted skull in recognition of the honour Kul Gilad

accordedhim.‘Whatishappening?Youhavethelookofamanstaringdownathisownfresh-duggrave.’‘Theeldarshipwillcomeforusnext,’saidKulGilad.‘AndasgallantastheAdytumis,itcannothope

tofightoffsopowerfulavessel.’‘Maybewecannotwin,’saidRemar.‘Butwewilldiefighting.Nopity,noremorse,nofear.’KulGiladnodded. ‘SinceDantium theyhavebeen inmydreams,doggingmyevery step like an

assassin.Nowtheyarecome,andtheypickusoffonebyonelikethecowardstheyare.Idespisetheirweaknessofspiritandtheirpaucityofcourage,captain.Where is thehonour instrikingfromafar?Whereisthegloryinslayingyourenemywithoutlookinginhiseyesasthelastbreathleaveshisbody?’

Remardidnotanswer.Whatanswerwastheretogive?

‘I think thatwas theCardinal Boras,’ saidMagos Azuramagelli, sifting through the electromagneticspikesthatcascadedthroughhisstation.Theseparatedaspectsofhisbrainandbodymatterflickeredwith dismay, and though it was often difficult to read the composite structure of the astrogationmagos’smoods,Kotovhadnotroubleinreadingthepaininhiswords.

The commanddeck of theSperanza was alivewithwarnings, both visual and audible. Floods of

damage reports flooded in fromeverydeckas themighty vessel twisted,bentand flexed inways itshouldneverhavetoendure.Binaryscreechesofsystemsinpainfilledthespace,thoughKotovhadgrownadeptatfilteringoutallbutthemostpressing.Hisshipwastearingitselfapart,andtherewasnothinghecoulddotopreventitsdestruction.

The death of the Blade of Voss had struck a note of grief through the magi on the Speranza’scommand deck. The loss of so many machine-spirits and a vessel of undoubted pedigree was acalamitousblow,bothtotheexpeditionandtheMechanicusasawhole.

Andnow theyhad lost theirmostpowerfulwarship, a vesselwith agrand legacyof victory andexploration.Atruerelicofthepastthathadfoughtinsomeofthegreatestnavalengagementsofthelastmillenniumandexploredregionsofspacethatnowborethecartographer’sinkinsteadofablankscreedofemptinessonamap.

Anger touchedKotov andhe directed his hurt at themachine hybrid thing that squatted on itsmalformedreticulatedlegs.

‘YousaidyoucouldnavigateusthroughtheHaloScarsafely,’saidKotov.Galatearoseup, itscentralpalanquinrotatingas itbrought themannequinbodyaroundto face

Kotov.Theroboticformofthetech-priesttwitchedandthesilveropticsglimmeredwithamusement.‘Wedid,’saidGalatea.‘Butwealsotoldyouthatyoushouldexpecttosuffergreatlossesbeforewe

reachtheotherside.’‘Atthisrate,wewillbefortunatetoreachtheotherside.’‘YouhavealreadypenetratedfartherthananysaveMagosTelok,’pointedoutGalatea.‘Afactthatwillonlybecomerelevantifwesurvive,’counteredKotov.‘True,butthedemiseoftheCardinalBoraswasnotatthehandsoftheHaloScar,’saidGalatea.‘Thenwhathappenedtoit?’‘We sense the presence of another vessel, one that Naval xeno-contact records archived in the

CypraMundirepositoryhavepreviouslycodifiedastheStarblade,aneldarshipofwar.’‘Aneldarship?’saidKotov.‘Areyousure?’‘Its energy signatures andmass displacement offer a ninety-eight point six per cent degree of

accuracyinthatassessment.Fromitsmovementpatterns,itisreasonabletoassumeitdestroyedtheCardinalBorasandnowmanoeuvrestoattacktheAdytum.’

Kotovspunto faceBlaylock. ‘Orderall ships tocloseontheSperanza.Spreadoutwewillbeeasypreyforsuchavessel.’

‘Asyousay,archmagos,’saidBlaylock,blastingthevoxwithhisurgentcommunication.Kotovturnedhisattentiontoastrogation.‘Azuramagelli?Couldthiseldarshiphavebeenthesourceoftheemissionsyoudetectedbeforewe

enteredtheScar?’Theastrogationmagossummonedhispreviousdatareadingsinabloomoflight,andKotovnow

sawthesubtlehintsthatmighthaverevealedthepresenceofaneldarshiphadtheybutknownwhattolookfor.

‘Indeeditcould,archmagos,’saidAzuramagelli. ‘Ioffernoexcusesformyfailuretorecogniseitspresence.WhatpenanceshallIassignmyself?’

‘Oh,shutup,Azuramagelli,’snappedKotov.‘Wedon’thaveanyusefulfeedsfromauspex,sofindawaytoshootitdownandwewilldiscussyourpunishmentatalaterdate.’

‘Youwillnotbeabletoshootitdown,’saidGalatea.‘Evenwithourhelp.’‘Thenwhat?Weletitpickthefleetapart,shipbyship?’‘No,’saidGalatea,asthoughamusedatKotov’sseemingstupidity.‘Youcannotfightthisvessel,but

theSperanzacan.’

ItbeganasashimmeringhazethatformedontheprosceniumatthefarendofAdytum’sbridge.KulGiladclenchedhisfist,andanarcofdestructiveenergyformedaroundtheoversizedfingersof

hispowerfist.Theammofeedsofhisgauntlet-mountedstormbolterratchetedtheheavybeltofshellsintoposition,andherecitedhisReclusiarch’svow.

‘Leadusfromdeathtovictory,fromfalsehoodtotruth,’hebeganasthehalf-formedaliengatewayfilledthebridgewithanactiniccrackleofstrangelight.

‘Leadusfromdespairtohope,fromfaithtoslaughter.’The bridge crew unplugged themselves from their stations, unholstering pistols and drawing

serratedcombatbladesfromthighsheaths.Awailingmoanofdeathlywindissuedfromtheswirlingmassofwych-lightthatgrewinpowerwiththesoundofclashingblades,howlingcriesoflossandacrackleofdistantfires.

‘LeadustoHisstrengthandaneternityofwar.’CaptainRemar issuedhis lastcommandto theAdytum, to take theship inclose to theSperanza,

thendisconnectedhimselffromhiscommandlecternanddrewa longrapierthathunginakidskinsheathfromitsside.

‘LetHiswrathfillourhearts.’With theReclusiarchat its centre, thebridgecrewof theAdytum formedabattle line.KulGilad

heardSergeantTanna’svoiceinhishelmet,butclosedhimselfofftohiswarriors.Theircrusadewouldgoonwithouthim,andhecouldnotbedistractednow.

‘Death,warandblood;invengeanceservetheEmperorinthenameofDorn!’Thealiengatewayonthebridgeshimmeredlikethesurfaceofaglaciallysmoothlakeandalithe

warriorwomansteppedontotheAdytum.Cladinrune-etchedarmourofemeraldandatallhelmetofbone-whitetoppedwithabillowingplumeofvividscarletandantler-likeextrusions,KulGiladknewherwell from the battle at DantiumGate. A cloak ofmultiple hues of green and gold hung at hershouldersandtheslender-bladedswordshecarriedwasetchedwithshimmeringfiligreethatwrithedwithloathsomemovement.

Behindher,adozenwarriorswithbulboushelmsandoverlappingplatesofscaledgreensteppedthrough the gateway. Crackling energies played between the toothlikemandibles attached to theirhelms,andeachone–thoughslender–hadthebulkofapowerfulwarrior.

‘YoukilledAelius,theEmperor’sChampion,’saidKulGilad.‘Andnowyoucometokillme.’‘Ihave,’agreedtheeldarwitch.‘Iwillnotletyoudestroytheirfuture.’‘Isthisallyouhavebrought?’saidKulGilad.‘Iwillkillthemall.’

Thewitchwomancockedherheadtothesideasthoughamusedathisdefiance.‘Youwillnot,’shesaid.‘Ihavetravelledtheskeinandseenyourthreadcutathousandtimes.’The gateway rippled one last time. Blazing light and heat like Kul Gilad had not felt since the

SeasonofFireonArmageddonblewouttofillthebridgeoftheAdytum.A towering daemon of fire and boiling blood stepped though the howling gateway, its glowing

bodyformedfrombrazenplatesofred-hotironthatdrippedglowinggobbetsofmoltenmetaltothedeck. Its powerful body creaked and bled the light of wounded stars and the vast spear it carriedwailedwiththelamentofalostempireandtheself-inflictedgenocideofamillionsouls.Smokefromthebloodiestfurnacecoiledfromitslimbs,andamistofglowingcindersseethedandragedlikeadarkcrownaboutitshornedhead.

Anavatarofunendingwar,itroaredwiththeunquenchableangerofawarriorgod,andthebloodof itsslaughtersoozedbetweenits fingers,runninginthickrivuletsdownthehaftof itsmonstrousspear.

‘Abhorthewitch,’snarledKulGilad.‘Destroythewitch!’

Theyheardthewarningbells,butpaidthemnomind.Sincethevox-hornshadannouncedtheirentryto theHaloScar tenhoursago, therehadbeenasteadystreamofwarningklaxons,alarmbellsandbinary announcements. Abrehem, Coyne, Ismael, Hawke and Crusha made their way through thevaultedtunnelsoftheengineeringdecktowardsthefeedinghall.Theirnextshiftrefuellingtheplasmaengineswasduetostartintwobells,andthehigh-caloriegruelwasjustaboutallthatwouldsustainthemoverthelengthofabackbreakingshifthaulingthevolatilecylindersoffuelonlongchainsalongthedeliveryrailstothecombustionchambers.Havingsomanymuscle-augmentedservitorsonshifthadmadelifeeasier,buttheworkwasstillpunishinginitsintensity.Burnedskin,causticfumesandtornmuscleswerethenormafteronlyacoupleofhours.

‘I’llbegladwhenyoucangetusthesecushyshifts,’saidCoyne.‘Youandmeboth,lad,’saidHawke.‘You hardly do any work anyway,’ said Abrehem. ‘Crusha does all your work and you get the

servitorstohaulmostoftheloads.’The ogryn grinned at the sound of its name, still carrying the gunny sacks of contraband. The

plasmapistolHawkehadfinagledfromtheskitariiwasinoneofthosesacksandAbrehemtriednottothinkofhowmuchtroubletheywouldbeinifitwaseverdiscovered.

Hawke shrugged, completely unashamed at his evasion of work. ‘I see myself as more of andelegator,Abe,’hesaid.‘Amanwhogetsthingsdonewithoutneedingtodirtyhisownhands.’

‘No,yourhandsaredirtyenoughalready,’saidAbrehem.Anothersirenwentoff,aninsistentblarethatsoundedliketheshipitselfwasscreaming.Abrehem

jumpedatthesound,sensingonamarrow-deeplevelthatthiswasnoordinary,everydaysound,thatthiswasawarningonlyeverdeployedintheworstemergencies.

‘I’venotheardthatonebefore,’saidCoyne.‘Iwonderwhatitmeans.’‘Probablynothing,’saidHawke.‘Maybeapipeinthearchmagos’stoilet’ssprungaleak.’

Theotherslaughednervously,buttheyallknewtherewassomethingmoretoitthanthenormalrunofwarningsthatsoundedforreasonsnoonecouldquitefathom.Thissirenhadastridentnoteofreal danger to it, like itwasmodulated at a pitch that circumvented all rational thought andwentstraightforthemind’sfearresponse.

‘No,’saidAbrehem.‘Something’sreallywrongthistime.’

AlarmssoundedthroughouttheSperanza,high-pitchedscreamsofviolationthatrousedCadiansfromtheir barracks, skitarii from their guild halls andMechanicus armsmen from their rapid-responsehubs.Throughout theship,armedmenandwomensnappedshells intoshotcannons,clickedpowercellsintolasriflesandengagedtheenergycoilsofimplantedweaponry.

Tech-guardsquadsformeddefensivecordonsattheentrancestothegreatengineeringhallswherethe legionofArkFabricatiworkers labouredon thedownedCanisUlfrica.VenAndersdispersed thecompanies of the 71st to prearranged defensive choke points as Magos Dahan routed his skitariithroughthecorridorsandchambersoftheshiplikeleukocytesracingthroughalivingbodytodestroyaninfection.

The alarm that echoed through theSperanza was one that had never been sounded before, onewhose frequency had been carefully chosen by themighty ship’s lost builders for its precise atonalqualitiesthatcausedthemostdiscomfortinthosewhoheardit.

Itrepresentedonethingandonethingonly.Enemyboarders.

Microcontent20

Screams and the whickering sound of alien gunfire echoed from the soaring walls of the plasmacontainmentchambers.Cylindersof lethallyvolatileplasmic fuelswayedoverhead,ratchetingalongdelivery rails likeuncontrolled rolling stockheading fora collisionatabusy terminus.ShimmeringwychfirefromhalfadozenbrightportalscastimpossibleshadowsandbroughtahallucinatoryformofdaylighttoanareaoftheSperanzathathadnotknownnaturallightsinceitsconstruction.

Abrehem crouchedbehind a slab-sidedmega-dozer, its iron trackunit taller than tenmen, andwatchedinhorrorastheinvadersslaughteredthemenandwomenoftheengineeringdecks.Bodieslaystrewnaroundthechamber,tornuplikethey’dbeencaughtinanagriculturalthreshingmachine.Their killers were aliens; but not the brutish, clumsy savages the daily devotionals ridiculed, butsculpturallybeautifulalabasterand jadefigureswiththeirowngracefulanimation.Theymoved likespinningdancers, their strides smooth and their bodies always completely in balance. They carriedflattenedweaponrywithelongatedbarrelsthatbuzzedastheyfiredhailsofdeadlyprojectiles.

‘Aretheyeldar?’saidCoyne.‘Pirates?’‘Ithinkso,’answeredAbrehem.‘Buttheydon’tlookmuchlikepirates.’Thetokenforceofskitariiassignedtotheengineeringspacewerestillfighting,fillingthechamber

withboomingblastsofshot-cannonandhotstreaksof las-fire.Adozenormorewerealreadydead,picked off by cloaked shapes thatmoved through the shadows like ghosts, or cut down by dartingfiguresinbrilliantbluewar-armourandgunsthatshriekedastheyslew.

Abrehemduckedasaspinningfragmentembeddeditselfinthetrackunitbesidehim,aperfectlysmoothdiscofamaterialthatlookedlikepolishedceramic.ItsedgesthrummedwithmagneticforceandtheedgewasclearlysharperthananybladeAbrehemhadeverseen.Theyhadn’twantedtocomehere,butaseriesof irisingdoors,droppingcontainmentshuttersandskitariibarricadeshadforcedtheirpaththroughthebowelsoftheshipandbroughtthemintothemiddleofafirefight.

‘Bloodystupidthis,’saidHawke.‘Youdon’tgotobattles.Youavoidthem.’‘Idon’tthinkwehadmuchchoice,’saidAbrehem.‘Itwaseitherthisorgetstuckoutinthetunnels.’‘Atleasttherewewouldn’tgetshotat.’‘Andmaybewe’dhavebeenstucktherefordaysandstarvedtodeath.’

Hawkeglaredathim,unwillingtoconcedethepoint,butAbrehemknewhewasright;itwasstupidto have come here.Hawke knelt besideCrusha and rummaged through the gunny sacks, asCoynepeeredthroughthecogs,wheelsandgearsofthetrackswithhismouthopeninshock.LikeAbrehem,Coynehadneverseenanaliencreature,andthesheerstrangenessoftheseinvaderswaskeepingtheworstoftheirfearatbayfornow.

‘Killthem?’saidCrusha,andtheyalllookedoverattheogryn.ItwasthefirstthingCrushahadsaidsinceJoura.

‘Thor’steeth,what’swithhim?’askedHawkeastheogrynstoodandballedhishandsintofists.‘Pycho-conditionedresponsesarekickingin,’saidAbrehem,seeingCrusha’sprimitiveaugmetics

comealivewithactivity.‘He’sconditionedtoreacttothesmellofbloodandthesoundofbattle.’Theogryn’sbody visibly swelledas intra-vascular chem-shuntspumpedcombat-stimms intohis

powerful physiology, and muscular boosters juiced his strength with enough adrenaline to causeinstantaneousheartfailureinanordinaryman.

Once,Abrehemwouldhavebeenterrifiedatbeingnexttoabattle-readyabhuman,butrightnowitprobablywasn’tabadideatohaveanangryogrynnearby.

‘Getdown,youbiglummox!’snarledHawke,asCrushatookastepintotheopen.‘They’llseeyou!’Hawke’swordswereprophetic,andthroughthegutsofthemega-dozer’strackunit,Abrehemsaw

agroupofthekilleraliensinform-fittingablativeweavethecolourofancientboneturntheburningredeye-lensesoftheirjadehelmstowardsthem.

‘Shittinghell,’hesworeasthealiensboundedtowardsthembehindahailofthescreamingdiscs.‘Runforit!’shoutedHawke,draggingoneofthegunnysacksbehindhimashefled.Abrehemdidn’tneedtellingtwice,thoughhehadnoideatowheretheywouldrun.Butwherethey

wererunningtoseemedlessimportantthanwhattheywererunningfrom.Asoundlikebreakingglassexplodedaroundthemasthediscstorethroughthetracksofthemega-

dozer,rippinghydrauliclinesandshatteringvitalcomponentsthatrenderedthevastmachineuselessintheblinkofaneye.AtumblingfragmenttookCoyneintheback,tearingabloodylinefromshoulderbladetoshoulderblade.Hestumbled,shockedrigidbythesuddenpain,andfelltohisknees.Abrehemsawafragmentofasharpenedceramicdiscembeddedinthemeatofhisbackandbenttoremoveit.Theedgescuthishandashepulleditout,andbloodwelledfromadeepgashonhispalm.

‘Imperator,thathurts...’gruntedCoyneasAbrehemhauledhimupright.BloodsoakedAbrehem’shandsasheandCoynestaggereddownthe lengthofthemega-dozer.Morewhickeringgunfireandricochets chased them, but amazingly none of it touched them. Abrehem looked back over hisshoulder.

‘Crusha!Comeon!’heshouted,seeingtheogrynwasn’tfleeingwiththem.‘Crusha fight!’ bellowed the ogryn, beating a meaty fist against its swelling chest. ‘Crusha kill

Emperor’senemies!’Abrehempaused,reluctanttosimplyabandonthecreature.‘Whatareyoudoing?’gaspedCoyne.‘Let’sgo!’‘Come on, you bloody idiot!’ shouted Hawke from the shadow of a blast shutter that had

miraculouslynotsealedthedeckoff,leavingthemawayout.Scatteredgroupsofbondsmenwerealso

running for theopening,duckingbetweenheavymachineryand liftergear to escape the slaughter.Theshutterrattledinitsframe,themechanismtryingtoclose,butforsomereasonunabletodescend.Itcoulddropatanymoment,trappinghiminthemiddleofafirefight,andAbrehemknewhedidn’thaveachoicebuttokeepgoing.

Blastsofweaponsfirefilledthespacebehindhim.Abrehemdidn’tdarelookbackandkeptgoing,draggingCoyne’sincreasinglylimpbodybesidehim.

‘Comeon,fortheEmperor’ssake!’heyelled.‘Helpmeout,Coyne!Stayawakeandusethosebloodylegsofyours!’

Coyne’seyesflickeredopenandhenodded,butbloodlossandshockwasturninghimintoadeadweightatAbrehem’sside.

‘Helpme!’heyelledathisfellowbondsmen.Theyignoredhim,butthen–seeingwhowasshouting–afewturnedtohelptakeCoyne’sweight.Theygrabbedhislegsandhisotherarm,dragginghimintothesafetyofthearchedpassagewaybeyondtheblastshutter.AbrehemlookedforHawke,seeinghimstillfranticallysearchingthroughthegunnysack.

Abrehem heard a roar of anger and pressed himself against the bulkhead of the judderingdoorway.Heglanceduptoseetheblastshuttercrankingdownafewcentimetresatatime,asthoughfightingsomeunseenforcethatwaskeepingitopen.

‘Abe,canyougetthatdamndoorshut?’shoutedHawke.Abrehem took a breath and sought out the door lock, but recoiled from the violence in the

mechanism,ablood-redhazeofdataoccludingitfromanyattempthemightmaketointerferewithitsworkings.

‘Ican’t,’heshoutedback.‘It’sjammedorsomething.’‘Figures,’saidHawke.‘Aha!Hereitis.’AbrehemturnedawayfromHawkeandlookedbackthewaytheyhadcome.Backatthemega-dozer,hesawCrushasurroundedbytheeldarwarriors.Theyfilledtheairwith

lethally sharpdiscs, tearingchunksofbloodiedmeat fromtheogryn’sbody,dancingaway fromhisponderousfistswith impunity.Theymovedwith inhumanspeed,dartingintoslashatCrushawithdelicate blades that looked far too thin to be combat-capable, butwhich sliced through the ogryn’sthickskinwithenergisedease.Theywerelikemutantdocksideratsattackingadrunkstevedore,toosmalltobringdowntheirpreyalone,butworkingtogether...

Oneeldarmovedafractiontooslowandcaughtaclubbingblowtoitshelmthatstaggeredit.Evenas it righted itself, Crusha gripped thewarrior’s armoured tunic and slammed him into themega-dozer,breakingeveryboneinhisflimsybody.

Thebloodiedogryn roared in triumphandhurled thebody into themassofhis attackers.Mostspun away from the corpsemissile, but a handfulwere knocked flat by the impact.Crushawas onthemasecondlater,stampingonetopasteandbreakinganother’sneckbeforetherestcouldrise.Itsfistswungoutandcaughtaneldarwarriorwho’ddaredapproachtooclosetoputitsguntotheogryn’sneck.Thealienwashurledtenmetresthroughtheair,landinginacrumpledheapthattoldAbrehemhisspinewasaconcertinaedmessofshatteredbone.

Theother eldarbackedaway fromCrusha,now realising ithadbeenarrogant toget close to so

powerfulanopponent.Abrehemwaitedforthemtoopenfire,butthevolleyofrazordiscsnevercame.Asecondlaterhesawwhy.

Ablurredshape,likeafiguremovingtoofasttobeseenwiththenakedeye,roundedtheedgeofthemega-dozer.Abrehem’senhancedopticsmadeoutthecontouredoutlineofashimmeringghost,agracefulformoflitheperfectionthatcarriedalongswordwithabladeofpalestwhite.Armouredinazureplatesandwithaplumedhelmcrestedinredandgold,thesublimewarriorflickeredinandoutofviewasitsimagewassplinteredandthrownoutarounditinahazeofmirroredlight.

The figure spun anddanced aroundCrusha in a series of stepped images, eachmomentwhereAbrehemwasabletoperceivethefigurelikeasnapshotofmotioncaughtinastrobelight.

Andthenitwasover.ThedancewasendedandCrushawasonhisknees,bloodgushingfromaseriesoflethalcutsthat

hadopenedeverymajorarteryinhisbody.Helookedsuddenlysmall,likeanidiotchildbroughtlowbyscholambullies. The sublimewarriormadeone last spinning leap andCrusha’s head flew fromhisshoulders,severedcleanlybyasingle,perfectlybalancedstrike.

Thewarriorlookedupfromhiskilling,andAbrehemfeltitsdistasteattheact.Notatthekillingitself,butthatithadbeenforcedtowetitsbladeinthebloodofsoacrudeanopponent.Hemetthecold,warlikestareofthewarriorandfelttheicycalmofitsperfectlydistilledmartialskill.Thiswasawarriorwhoembodieddeathinitspurestform.

Thecontactwasbroken,andtheeldarwarrior’sformblurredintoshimmeringsilverlightasherantowardsthestubbornlyopenshutter.

‘Oh,crap,’saidAbrehem.‘Weneedtogo.Rightbloodynow!’

KulGilad’sgauntletslammedintotheflamingdaemon,andhefelttheheatofitsmoltenbodythroughtheheavyplatesandcracklingenergiesofhisfist.Ironbuckledanddribblingspurtsofblazingichoroozedfromthecrackslikelight-filledblood.Theavatarroaredandbroughtitsblazingspeararoundinacrushingarc.EncasedinTerminatorarmour,KulGiladwastooponderoustoevade,andheleanedintotheblow,takingitonthecurvedplatesofhisshoulderguard.

WhiteheatofthehottestfurnaceimaginablecutthroughceramiteandtheReclusiarchbitbackacryofagonyashefelttheskinbeneathchartoblackenedruin.Hesteppedawayfromthedaemonandunleashed a stream of explosive mass-reactives at point-blank range. Most ignited before theyimpactedonthecreature,theirwarheadsflashingwithprematuredetonationintheintenseheatthatsurroundedthemonster.Afewshellspenetratedthebrazenplatesofitsbody,butthefurnaceofitsinteriordestroyedthembeforetheycouldexplode.

Tanna’s shouting voice echoed in his helmet, but he had not the breath or time to answer thefranticcriesofhissergeant.

Thedaemoncreaturetoweredoverhim,andKulGiladfelthisownangerrisetomatchthestar-hotgaze of burning, eternal fury that blazed in its alien eyes. A storm raged around him, a swirlinghurricaneoflightandunnaturalenergiesthatspatandbitwithsearingdischarges.Thevastplatesofhisarmourwereproofagainstthatlightning,butthebridgecrewwerenotsofortunate.

Hecouldhearthemdyingaroundhim,flensedtothebonebythewitchwoman’slightningstormorslaughtered like livestockby thegreen-armouredwarriors.He’dseennoneof themfall,but theirsuddensilencewasproofenoughthattheywerealldead.Theeldarwitchwasattheheartofthestorm,herslenderbodyenglobedbyaradianthaloofpower.

Her bounddaemon came at him again, quicker than anything of such bulk andmonstrous fireshould be able tomove. Theweapon it carried danced in the heat haze surrounding it, sometimesappearingtobeavastsword,sometimesagreatwar-axeorascreamingspear.KulGiladbattedtheweaponasidewithhispowerfistandsteppedintodeliverathunderoushammerblowtothecreature’smidriff.

‘All-conquering Master of Mankind, be pleased with this war’s tumultuous roar!’ he sang, his voiceboomingfromthevox-grilleofhishelm.Hisfistbrokeanarmouredplate,andmagma-hotgoutsofitsinnerfirepouredoverhisfist.KulGiladignoredthesearingpainanddrewbackhisfisttostrikeagain.

Aflashofredandaburningpaininhisguttoldhimhe’dbeenhit.Thebridgespunawayfromhimandhe felt himself leave thedeck.He slammed into a support stanchion, feeling it bucklewith theforceof impact.Bonesbroke insidehim,andhisbodysurged inheatas its self-repairbiologywentintooverdrive.

Hefell,slammingintothedeckwithforceenoughtodenttheplates.‘Reclusiarch!’saidTanna,andthistimeKulGiladpaidheed,knowingitwouldbehislastchanceto

speaktohiswarriors.‘Sergeant,’ he hissed through blood-flecked spittle. ‘Get to theSperanza. Go now and never look

back.’‘What ishappeningup there?’demandedTannaurgently. ‘We’redisembarking from theBarisan

andcomingtoyou.’‘No,’saidKulGilad.‘GettotheSperanza.Now.Thisismylastorderandyouwillobeyit.’‘Reclusiarch,no!’‘Untiltheend,brother,’saidKulGiladsoftlybeforeseveringthevox-link.Smokebillowedaroundhimandhepushedhimselftohisfeet,liftinghisgauntlet-mountedstorm

bolter and loosing another burst of shots. The daemon stood over him, and this time his shotsappearedtowreaksomeharm.Itreeledfromtheforceofhisbarrageandthrewupared-goldarmthatbledlightintotheairandsmokedwithsulphurousyellowfumes.KulGilad’svisorscrolledwithdangerindicators.

‘Delight in swords and fists red with alien blood, and the dire ruin of savage battle,’ he said, drawinghimselfuptohisfullheight.

Thestormoflightwasgone,andhesawtheredruinofthebridgecrew.CaptainRemarlayonhisback,hisbodyscorchedwithnumerouselectricalburnsandacanyonof

fleshopenedupinhisbodyfromnecktopelvis.Hisswordwasbloody,andatleastoneeldarwarriorhadfallentohisbladebeforetheyhadkilledhim.Thecaptain’suniformcaught lightasthedaemoncrushedhimbeneathitsblazingtread,andthedeckplateswerescorchedblackbyitseveryfootstep.Themeatstinkofburnedhumanfleshwaxedstrong.

‘Rejoice in furious challenge, and avenging strife,whoseworkswithwoe embitter human life,’ roaredKul

Gilad, hurling himself at the monstrous god of war. Storm bolter blazing with the last of hisammunition,thiswasthemomenthehadbeenwaitingforallhislife,alastchargeagainstimpossibleoddsinserviceoftheEmperor.HerecalledwhathehadsaidtoMistressTychon.

Eventuallyeverythingmustdie,evenSpaceMarines.Time compressed, themotion of his fistmoving at the speed of tectonic plates, every spinning

warhead ejected from his storm bolter perfectly visible to him as its rocketmotor ignited.His fiststruckthedaemoninthecentreof itschestandheunleashedevery last iotaofhiszealousfuryandrighteoushateinthatblow.

Hisfistshatteredthehideouslyorganicmetalofthedaemon’sarmourandhefelthisarmengulfedinsearing,unendurableheat.Thedaemon’sroarofpainwasasymphonytohisears,andherejoicedthattheEmperorhadseenfittogranthimthislastboonofdeath.Flamesbillowedaroundhimandhefeltasickeningimpactonhismidsection.

KulGiladfelthimselffalling,andthedeckslammedintohishelmetedheadasherolledontohisback. His arm was a mangled, burned ruin, a stump of fused meat, bone and metal that onlysuperficially resembled a human limb. Black smoke and dribbling gobbets of skin ran down thesagging plates of melted armour and though he knew he should be horrified at this nightmarishinjury,hefeltutterlyatpeace.

He felt a burning pressure of heat coiling inside him, his biology shrieking in the agony ofattemptingtorepairthedamagedonetohim.Ashadowfellacrosshim,andKulGiladlookedupintothefaceofthedaemon,itsfierychestbuckledandtornopen,butreknittingevenashewatched.Themortal wound he had struck it had been nothing of the sort and despair touched Kul Gilad at thethoughtofhisfailure.

The leering daemon towered over him, terrible in aspect and horrifying in the single-mindedviolenceitrepresented.Hehateditwitheverybreathlefttohim.Theblackpaintofhisarmourpeeledbackatitsproximityandhestruggledtorise.Withtheonearmlefttohim,heraisedhimselfontohiselbowandsawwhyhecouldn’tmove.

Hewascutintwoatthewaist.His armoured legs lay across the deck from him and he lay with the loopingmeat coils of his

packedinnardsslowlyoozingfromhisscorched,bifurcatedbody.Thedaemonstoodinthepoolofhisblood,andhetastedthechemical-richstinkofitshyper-oxygenationasitburned.Itlowereditsflame-wreathedweapon to touchhis chest, and the tipof theblade sank into the Imperial eaglemountedthereinonelastinsult.

KulGilad’slifecouldnowbemeasuredinbreaths.NotevenSpaceMarinephysiologycouldsurvivesucha traumaticwoundwithoutanApothecarynearby.EvenBrotherAuidenwouldbestretched tothelimitofhisabilitiestosavehimnow,andKulGilad’sheartbroketoknowthathisbodywouldnotbelaidtorestwithinthecryptsoftheEternalCrusader.

Theeldarwitchwomankneltbesidehisdyingbody,andhewantedtoswatherawaywiththelastofhisstrength,buttheburningdaemonheldhimpinnedflatlikeaspecimenonadissectiontable.Shereachedupandremovedherhelmet,revealingataperingovalfacewithhardeyesandamaneofredhairentwinedwithglitteringstonesandflecksofgold.Herlipswerefullandbluewithcosmeticpaint.

Shereacheddownandunclippedhisskull-maskedhelmfromhisgorgetandreleasedthepressuresealsholdingittohisarmour.Withsurprisinggentleness,sheliftedtheheavyhelmetclearandplaceditbesidehishead.KulGiladtastedthesubtleperfumeswreathingherbody,amuskyodourofcave-bloomingflowersandsmokytempleswheredecadentpsychotropicswereconsumed.

‘Strange,’shesaidinahatefulmusicalvoice.‘Youdiehere,andyetthefuturesarestillunclear.’‘Youhavenofuture,’spatKulGilad.‘Thisvesselisdoomedandyouwithit.’Shefixedhimwithacuriousstare,asthoughunsureofwhathemeant.‘Youarethewar-leader,yes?’shesaid.‘IamKulGilad,’hesaid. ‘ReclusiarchoftheBlackTemplars,proudsonofSigismundandDorn.I

amawarrioroftheEmperorandIknownofear.’Sheleanedincloseandwhisperedinhisear.‘Knowthateverythingyouareandallyouholddear

willdiebymyhand.Iwillslayyourwarriorsandthedreamofthefuturewillliveagain.Iwillnotletyoukillmydaughtersbeforetheirbirth,evenifitmeanstheextinctionofthestarsthemselves.’

KulGiladhadnoideawhatshewastalkingabout,butletonlydefiancerageinhiseyes.Hecoughedamouthfulofbloodyfoam,feelinghisorgansshuttingdownoneafteranother.Greynessclosedinonhim,andhestruggledtogivevoicetoonelastcurse.‘ThereisonlytheEmperor,’whisperedKulGilad.‘AndHeisourshieldandprotector.’

Abrehemandthebondsmenwho’dmadeitoutoftheengineeringchamberranthroughthetunnelsinblindpanic.Thelumenshadfailed,andtheonlylightcamefromtheflickeringemergencysigilsthatwinked dimly in the hissing, claustrophobic gloom. Abrehem’s eyes compensated for the lack ofillumination,buthewastheonlyonewithanysenseofthegeometryandlayoutofthetunnelthroughwhich they fled. It was narrow and lined with convulsing pipework that rippled like a troubleddigestivesystemprocessingaparticularlydifficultmeal.Alpha-numericlocationsignifierspassedbyonthewalls,buttheywereonesAbrehemhadn’tseenbefore.Hehadnoideawherehewasandthatdidn’tbodewellforanyhopeofescape.

ThecreakandgroanofgrindingmetalwasstrongerhereastheSperanzatwistedandflexedintheHalo Scar’s powerful grip. Steam vented from ruptured pipes and Abrehem felt mists of oil andhydraulicfluidssquirtinghimastheyblunderedonwards.Terrifiedscreamsoffearechoedfromthewalls,andAbrehemtriednottoimaginehowclosetheeldarkillersmightbe.

‘Hawke!’shoutedAbrehem.‘Whereareyou?’If Hawke bothered to answer, his voice was lost in the tumult of barging, shouting men and

women.Theirflightbroughtthemoutintoavast,cylindricalchamberwithgentlycurvingwallsandanenormousrotatingfanbladeturningslowlyabovethem.Updraughtsofhot,carbon-scentedairgustedthroughthemeshdeckingbelowthem,andAbrehemrealisedtheywereinaportionoftheship’sairscrubbers;theSperanza’slungs.Bondsmenmilledinconfusion,thedarknessandthescaleofthespaceinwhich they now found themselves serving to rob themof any notion ofwhichway to run. Theycouldn’tseethearchedexitpassagewayonthefarwall,butAbrehemcould.

‘Thisway!’heshouted.‘Followme,Icanseeawayout.’

Hand grabbed for him, and he led a frightened gaggle of people towards the far side of thechamber.Someheldfasttohiscoveralls,sometothesoundofhisvoice,butasastumbling,shamblingmasstheymovedwithhim.

‘ThanktheEmperoryouhaveyourfather’seyes,’saidavoiceathisshoulder.‘Hawke?’‘Noneother,Abe,’saidHawke,onehandgrippingtightlytohisshoulder. ‘Idon’tsupposeCrusha

madeitout?’Abrehemshookhishead,beforerememberingthatHawkewouldn’tbeabletoseethegesture.‘No,theeldarkilledhim,’hesaid.‘Aswordsmantookhisheadoff.’‘Damn,butthat’dhavebeenasighttosee,’musedHawke,utterlywithoutremorse,andAbrehem

felthisdislikeofthemanraiseanotch.‘You’lllikelygetyourwish,he’stheonethat’safterus.’‘Don’tworryabouthim,I’lltakecareofthatfancybastard.’AbrehemwantedtolaughatHawke’sinsanebravado,buthehadnoneleftinhim.Hismobofterrifiedbondsmenreachedtheexittotheairscrubbingchamberandthecontainment

shutter rattledup into itshousingas theyapproached.Abrehemdidn’t knowwhat tomakeof that,seeingacacklingfizzofcodevanishintotheaetheroftheship’sdataspherefromthelock.

Heheardwhippingdisturbancesintheair,quicklyfollowedbyscreamsofpain.Abrehemriskedabackwardglanceandhisheartlurchedashesawtheeldarassassinandhissquadofgunmenenteringthechamber.Theywerefiringwiththeirstrangeweapons,butthebillowingthermalswereservingtospoiltheiraimandonlyahandfuloftheirvictimswerefalling.

Abrehem paused as he saw thatmost of those who’d been hit were still alive, lying with limbssevered cleanly or disc-shaped slits punched through their backs. They screamed for help, and thepersonAbrehemhadoncebeenwantedtogoback.

Butthemanhewasnowknewbetterthantoriskhisneckforpeoplethatwereasgoodasdead.‘Comeon,Abe!’shoutedHawke.‘Weneedyou.’Grasping hands pulled him away, and once again they fled down darkened passageways that

twisted, rose and fell and plunged deeper and deeper into a labyrinth of tunnels that even theMechanicus had probably forgotten about. Where junctions presented themselves, Abrehem tookturnsatrandom,hopingtheirpursuerswouldeventuallygiveupandhuntsomeeasierprey.

Whatwasittheagri-workersintheoutlyingfarmcollectivessaid?Idon’tneedtooutrunthegrox,Ijustneedtooutrunyou.Hewasutterlylost,butthefranticpeoplearoundhimfollowedhimlikehewassomekindofdivine

saviour.TheyshoutedhisnameandwailedtotheOmnissiah,toThor,totheEmperorandthemyriadsaintsoftheworldstheycalledhome.Everynowandthen,Abrehemwouldseetheflickering,blood-red burst of code in the walls, dogging their flight like some kind of gleeful binary observer thatdelightedintheirfear.Hehadnoideawhatitmightbe,andhadnotthetimeorenergytowasteinthinkingofit.

Thetunnelsgrewevermorecramped,andAbrehemheardfresh,crackingburstsofgunfirebehindthem,swiftlyfollowedbymorescreams.Hepickedupthepace,thoughhisravagedbodyhadlittleleft

togivetotheirescape.Hisheartthunderedagainsthissunkenchestandhislimbsburnedwithacidbuildupfromthesuddenburstofactivityandadrenaline.Bodiespressedintightlyaroundhim,theirfear-sweatstinkpungentandtheirdesperationhanginguponhimlikeacurse.Theyweptastheyran,pinning their hopes for life on Abrehem’s guidance. The tunnels twisted around on themselves, aknottedlabyrinththatcouldnothavebeenplannedoutbyanysaneshipwright.

Yet for all their unknown dimensions and orientation, Abrehem felt a disturbing familiarity tothesepassageways,asensethattheshipwassomehowleadingthemsomewhere,almostas if itwasreconfiguring itselftobringthemtoaplaceofitschoosing.Thatwassurelyridiculous,butthenotionpersisteduntilhis lurchingstepsbroughthimintothechamberthatwaspart templum,partprisonandpartsepulchre.

Hawke’s alcohol distilling apparatus burbled and popped against the blocked-off wall with thefadedstencilling,andthestinkofchemicalshinemadeAbrehemwanttoheavehisgutsoutontothehexagonaltiledfloor.

He’dkilledthemall.He’dledthemtoadeadend.Literallyandfiguratively.‘Shittinghell,Abe,’snappedHawke,ashesawwherethey’dendedup.‘There’snowayout.’Abrehemheavedgreatgulpsofairintohislungs,allthestrengthdrainingfromhimasherealised

theywerealldead.Helurchedonwobblinglegstothefarwallashesawtherippleofmaliciouscodesquirmacrossitssurface.Evenashewatched,itbledintothecentreofthewall,andhisjawfellopenashesawitapproximatedtheshapeofahumanhand.

Itflickeredlikeabadlyprojectedimage,exactlywhereIsmaelhadrestedhishandwhentheyhadfirstfoundhimhere.Menandwomenpressedthemselvestothewall,clawingatitandbangingtheirfistsagainsttheunyieldingmetal.Abrehem’seyesmovedfromsidetoside,seeingalambentlightthatseemedtoflickerintheeyesocketsofthecadaverousskullsworkedintothewalls.

HelookeduptothefrescoesofImperialsaintsworkedintotheceilingcoffers,andsawthatonestoodproudof theothers, a simple representationof a youngman in theplain robesof theScholaProgenium.His headwas haloed in light, and he reached out of the paintingwith an outstretchedhandthatofferedpeaceandanendtoiniquity.

Abrehemrecognisedthesaint,andacalmingsenseofrightnessflowedthroughhim.Though the screamsof thepeople aroundhimechoed from thewalls,Abrehem’s thoughtswere

clear and calm as the ocean on a windless day. He pressed his back to the wall at the back of thechamber,feelinghandstouchinghimasthoughhecouldsomehowwardoffthecomingdanger.

Thealiensappearedattheentranceofthechamberandthefearhe’dfeltoftheeldarblademasterevaporatedasHawkesteppedforwardswithhiscontrabandpistoloutstretched.

‘Eathotplasmadeath,xenosfreak!’heyelledandmashedthefiringstud.Nothinghappened.Hawkepressedthestudagainandagain,buttheweapon’spowerhadlongsincebeendepleted.‘Bastard skitarii,’ sworeHawke, tossing theweapon and retreating to the stencilledwall as the

eldarwarriorflickeditsbladethroughaseriesofcomplexmanoeuvres.Abrehemsawthecoolgraceinitseverymovement,arapturoussupplenessandeasethatonlyinhumanreflexesandanatomycould

allow.Withoutquiteknowingwhathewasdoing,AbrehembenttoretrieveHawke’sdiscardedweapon,

feelingthesnugfitashisfingersclosedaroundthetexturedgrip.Itwasheavierthanhe’dimagined,compact and deadly looking, the induction coils ribbed tightly around its oblong barrel. Thebladesman’sheadturnedtohim,andAbrehemsensedhisamusementattheirpitifuldefiance.

Abrehemsqueezedthefiringstud.And a bolt of incandescent blue-white light stabbed from the conical barrel to skewer the eldar

warriorthroughitschest.Theplatesofthealien’sarmourvaporisedinthesun-hotbeamandthefleshbeneathburstintoflameastheplasmafireplayedoveritsbody.Theswordsman’sscreamwasshortanditscharredremainscollapsedinasmokingpileofscorchedarmourandliquidflesh.

Theweapongaveoutascreamingnoteofwarning,butbeforeAbrehemcoulddropit, thebarrelventedanuncontrolledstreamofsuper-heatedairandplasmaleakage.Abrehemscreamedasthefleshmeltedfromhisforearm,runninglike liquidrubberfromashopfrontdummyinafire.Theweaponfusedtothebonesinhishandanddevouringflameslickedupthelengthofhisarm,meltingtheheat-resistantfabricofhiscoverallstohisruinedlimbinasearingflashofignition.

Thepainwas incredible, anova-bright agony that sucked thebreath fromhis lungs andalmostrupturedthechambersofhisheartwithitsshockingintensity.Abrehemfelthimselffalling,butashefellhepressedhisremaininghandto theexactcentreof thewallat thebackof thechamber.Bloodwelledfromthedeepgashinhispalmandrandownangulargroovescutintothemetal.

The wall thundered into the ceiling, slamming up into its housing with a hiss of powerfulhydraulics.Menandwomenfellbackwardswiththesuddennessofthewall’srise,andapressurisedrushof air vented from the spacebehind it, carryingwith it the scent of ancient incense, powerfulcountersepticandimpossibleage.

Abrehemremainedonhisknees, clutchinghisblackened clawof anarm tohis chest.Hispain-blurred sight couldnot fully penetrate the darkness of the revealed chamber, but he saw the dimlyoutlinedshapeofagoldenthrone,uponwhichsatthehunchedoutlineofapowerfulfigurewithfaintlightgleamingfromwhereitshandsoughttobe.

Thenseveralthingsappearedtohappenatonce.Abrehemheardthewhineofalienweaponspreparingtofire.Theseatedfigure’sheadsnappedup,andapairofamber-liteyesopened,flickeringasthoughthe

firesofsomesubterraneanhellshonethroughthem.Then,withoutseemingtopassthroughanyintermediarystages,thefiguresurgedfromitsthrone

andAbrehemfeltabuffetingpassageoffrozenairasitflewpasthim.Hewasspunaroundandevenhissuperioreyescouldonlyprocessafractionofwhathappenednext.

Flashes of crackling silver,whipping arcs of blood and screams.Amuscular shapemovingwithunnatural,drug-fuelledspeed.Weaponsfireandpanickedscreamingthatwasquicklysilenced.Heavythudsofbodiesslicedintwofallingtothefloor,theraspofarmoursmashedopenandthewetmeatthudsofflensedbodiescomingapart.Abrehemsawtheeldardieinafractionofasecond,heardthespatteroftheirbloodandtheslapoftheirseveredlimbsanddismemberedcorpsesastheyslammedintothewallsandceiling.

Thenitwasover,thealienshacked,slicedandchoppedintoahundredpieces;unrecognisableasanythingthathadoncelivedandbreathed.Abrehemsawplatesofarmourspinning,theiredgesslicedcleanly,helmetswith theperfectlyseveredstumpsofnecksstillwithin them.Hesawaruinofgorethat looked like the eldar had been instantly and completely eviscerated and their innards used topaintthewalls.

Andinthecentreofthebutcherystoodtheblood-drenchedfigureofanakedman.YethewaslikenomanAbrehemhadeverseen.Musculartothepointofridiculousness,hisentire

bodywasballoonedwithstimms,andmetalgleamedthroughhis fleshwherestrengthboostersandchem-shuntsjuttedfromhisintravenousnetwork.Aspinalgraftencircledhispulsingchestandheatbledfromhisskinwhereintegralventshadbeeninsertedjustbelowhisribcage.

His forearmswere sheathed in bronze, and instead of hands he possessedmasses of dangling,twitchingflail-likewhips.Theywrithed likethetentaclesofasquid,coated inbloodthathissedandevaporatedintheelectricalheat.

Theman’sheadwasencasedinmetalthatwasparthelmet,partimplantedskullplates.AcircularCogMechanicus of blood-red iron was stamped into his forehead and the skin of his cheeks wastattooedwithwhat looked like scripture.His teethwere bared in a rictus grin of slaughter, andhewalked towardsAbrehemwith grim and purposeful steps. The electro-flails sparked anddanced astheytrailedonthemetaldeck.

HandshelpedAbrehemupright,andthoughhehadtobitehisbottomliptokeepfromscreaminginagony,hewasglad to see that oneof thosewhohelpedhimuprightwas Ismael.Hawke loiteredbehindhisoldoverseerwithastupidgrinplasteredacrosshisfeatures.

The bloodstained slaughterman stopped in front of Abrehem and he felt the flicker of its fealtyoptic scanninghis eyes.The iron-sheathedhead leaneddown towardshimas though to samplehisscent,andthething’sliplessmouthparted.Corpse-breathsighedfrombetweenitspolishedsteelfangsasitkneltbeforehimwithitsheadbowed.

‘AdeptusMechanicus,’ rasped thewarrior, thewordsdust-dry. ‘Locke,Abrehem.Pattern imprintaccepted.RasselasX-42activationsequencecompleted.Byyourleave.’

Abrehemwantedtoanswer,butthepainfromhisravagedarmwastoogreatandhesaggedintothearmsofhisfollowersasunconsciousnessswallowedhim.

Microcontent21

Azuramagelliwasdoinghis best to track the eldarwarship, butKotov knew that the auspexwouldhavetrouble lockingontosuchavesseleveninthecalmestofspatialconditions.Hereclinedinthecommand throne,warmingup theSperanza’sweapons systems anddivertingpower to the gunnerydecks.Withoutshields,therewasaconcurrentincreaseinavailableresourcetoallocatetotheguns,butwithoutanythingtoplotfiringsolutions,theymightaswellshootblindlyintospaceandhopeforthebest.

‘Eldarshipiscomingabout,somewhereonourupperrightquadrant,’shoutedAzuramagelli.‘Gunsunabletogainapositivefix,’notedBlaylock.‘Increasingengineoutput,’saidSaiixek.‘Wecan’tfightthisship,nothere.’‘Change nothing,’ said Galatea, and Saiixek’s inloaded command was instantly canceled. ‘We

navigatetheHaloScarasdecreedorwedonotsurvive.’‘Wewillnotsurviveifweallowtheeldarfreereintoblastustopieces,’stormedtheengineering

magos,ventinganangrycloudoficyvapour.Kotov ignored thebickeringvoices,knowing thatGalateawasright.Hismindwassinkingdeep

intotherushingtorrentoftheship’smachine-spirit,hisgrasponhissenseofselfslippingwitheverypassingmoment.

‘Blaylock,’hewhispered,hisbinaryfragmentaryandfading.‘Holdontomybiometrics.’‘Archmagos?’repliedhisFabricatusLocum.‘Whatdoyouintend?’Kotovdidnotanswerandreleasedhisholdontheshardofego-consciousnessthatpreventedthe

immensemachine-spiritoftheSperanzafromdraggingthelastessenceofhishumanitydownintoitsmechanicalheart.

Heplungeddeep intothedatasphereandwas instantlyengulfedbyanoceanof light.The innerworkingsoftheSperanza spiralledaroundKotov inan impossiblycomplex latticeof fractalsystems,heuristicalgorithmatixandimpossibleweavesofinformationthatdefiedanymortalunderstanding.DownintheancientstrataoftheSperanza,Galatea’stouchwasadimlyperceivedirritant,askimmingconnectionthatcouldbeerasedwiththemerestshrug.

Kotov’sfragileconsciousnessplungeddeeperanddeeper,thegossamer-thinlifelineheldbyMagos

Blaylockatremulousthreadinafirestormofgoldenlight.Hesawsystemsflickerpasthisfloodstreamthat were as alien to him as anything the most secretive xenotech might dream of in his feverednightmares,andtechnologicalechoesofmachinesthatsurelypredatedtheImperiumitself.

Power generation that could harness the galactic background radiation to propel ships beyondlightspeed,weapon-techthatcouldcrackopenplanetsandeventhorizonmachinesthathadthepowertodragentirestarsystemsintotheirlight-andtime-swallowingembrace.

Allthisandmoredwelledhere,ancientdata,forgottenloreandlockedvaultswherethesecretsoftheancientshadbeenhidden.Inthisone, fleetingglance,Kotovrealisedhehadbeenafool todragthisproudstarshipintothehowlingemptinessofspaceinsearchofhiddensecrets.

TheSperanzawasthegreatestsecretofall,andinitsheartitheldthetruthofallthings,thekeytounlocking all that the Mechanicus had ever dreamed. Yet that knowledge was sealed behindimpenetrablebarriers,boundintheheartofthemightyvesselforgoodreason.TheknowledgeoftheMen of Gold and their ancient ancestors was encoded in its very bones, enmeshed within everydiamondhelixofitsstructure.

Wasthatwhyitsbuildershadabandoneditsconstruction?Didtheyfearwhatdamagethegenerationstocomemightwreakwithsuchknowledge?TheyfearedwhatImightbecome...Thewords came fully formed inKotov’smind,wordless andwithout vocabulary, but aperfectly

translatedsentimentthatexistedonlyaspuredata.<AreyoutheSperanza?>saidKotov.Thatisbutthemostrecentofmynames.Ihavehadmanyinmylonglife.Akasha,Kaban,Beirurium,Veda,

Grammaticus,Yggdrasil,Providentia...athousandtimesathousandmoreinallthelongaeonsIhaveexisted.Kotovknewhewasnothearingwordsoranythingthatcouldbeequatedtolanguage,simplythe

spiritat theheartof theSperanza adapting itsessence inwayshecouldunderstand.Hedidn’tevenknowifthethingwithwhichheconversedcouldbethoughtofasanindividualentity.Wasitperhapssomething infinitely older and unimaginably larger than he could possibly comprehend; a galactic-wideessencegivenvoice?

Dimlyherecognisedthatthesewerenothisthoughts,butthoseofthedataspherearoundhim.<Youareindanger,analienvesselattacksus...you...andwecannotdefeatit.>Iknowthis,butevenifthisironshellisdestroyed,Iwillendure.<Butwewillnot,yourservants.>saidKotov.Yourlivesaremeaninglesstome.WhyshouldIcare,solongasIendure?<Icannotgiveyouareason,savethatwequestforknowledgeandthepursuitofintellect.Weserve

theverythingIbelieveyourepresent.>Irepresentnothing,Isimplyam.Kotovknewhecouldnotappealtothevastnessaroundhimbyanymortalmeansofmeasurement,

nor could he hope to persuade itwith threats, promises ormaterial concerns.What did such puremachineintellectandperfectthoughtcareforthelivesofmortalswhenithadexistedsincethefirstmenhadstumbledacrosstheprinciplesofthelever?

<Thenhelpusbecauseyoucan.>saidKotov.

He sensed theMachine-Spirit’s amusement at his desperation and silently willed it to rouse aportionofitsincrediblepower.

Verywell,Iwillhelpyou.ThevastawarenessattheheartoftheSperanzaroseuparoundhim.Kotov’smoteof consciousnesswas flung into themaelstromof surgingdataandpurpose, spun

around and hurled into the cosmic vastness of the informational ocean, as insignificant and asmeaninglessasaspeckofstellardustagainsttheimpossiblevastnessoftheuniverse.

Bielanna watched the light fade from the human’s eyes, her war-mask keeping her from feelinganythingother than savage joy athisdeath.Thebodiesof the ship’s crew lay sprawledaroundher,brokenand takenapartby the stalkingwrathof theScorpionAspectWarriors.The flame-wreathedformofKaelaMenshaKhaine’s avatar turned and strodeback through thewebwayportal that hadbroughtthemtothebridgeofthehumanship.

Itunderstoodtherewasnomoredeathtobewroughthereandwithitsdeparture,thebrutaldesiretokillandmaindiminished.ShestillfeltthetouchoftheBloody-HandedGod,andwouldcontinuetofeel ituntil sheallowedherwar-mask to recede into the lockedcell ofherpsychewhere shekept itchaineduntilitwasneeded.

Itwasalreadyslippingfromhermindandsheletitbleedaway.Bielannablinked,asthoughtrulyseeinghersurroundingsnow.Thebridgeof thehumanshipwasanuglyplace,madeuglierby thearcing loopsofbloodon its

ironwallsandcarelesslyspilledinstickypools.Shefeltthecold,closed-offarroganceofthehumansthathadsailedthisship,thelegacyofdeathithadbroughttothosewhohaddefieditsmasters,andshewasnotsorryitwassoontobedestroyed.

Theshipwasbreakingapart,itsrudderlesscoursecarryingitintothedeathlyorbitoftheneutronstarthathadtakenthefirsthumanvessel.BielannaknewsheshouldriseandfollowtheavatarbacktotheStarblade,buttheskeinwasbecomingclearernowthatherwar-maskwasfading.

Shefeltapresencenexttoher,andlookedupattheblunt,razorededgeofTariquel’spresence.‘Weshouldgo,’hesaid.‘Thisshipwillbeatomsinmoments.’‘Iknow,’shereplied,butdidnotmove.‘Whydoyouwait?ThewarleaderoftheSpaceMarinesisslainandthosefewthatskulkinitsdark

cornerswillsoonbedeadtoo.’‘Because I need to be certain,’ said Bielanna, shutting out the blood-hungry anger of Tariquel’s

war-mask. She placed her hand on the splintered chest of the Space Marine, the touch of hisbloodstainedarmourdistastefultoher,forittoocarriedaterriblelegacyofslaughterandmurder.Sheclosedhereyes,lettingtheskeinriseuparoundherinallitsmyriadcomplexity.

Itsimpossibleweaveenfoldedher,butwithintheHaloScar,wheretimeanddestinywereabstractnotionsthatcouldbedistorted, themonstrousdeformationof thisancientrelicofabillionyearoldwarmadeamockeryofsuchconceptsascertainty.Thethreadsofthemortalsthathaddiedherewerefragile things at best, hard to trace back even into the recent past, whichwas itself bent out of all

recognisableshape.ShefoundthethreadoftheSpaceMarine,afrayedandbloodystrandthatunravelledalltheway

backtoDantiumwhereshehadfirstdiscernedtheclosestoriginofthosewhoweredenyingherthefutureshesocraved.Thiswarriorwastheir leader,theonewhoboundthemtohispurpose,andhisdeathmustsurelyunmakethatpurpose...

Yetas she casthis threadback into the skein, she sawwithachinghorror that the imageof thelaughingeldarchildrenhadgrownevenmoredistantandunattainable.

Far from restoring that potential future, this death had shunted it further into the realm ofpossiblefuturesthatwereevermoreunlikelytocometopass.

‘No!’shesobbed,fallingacrossthechestoftheSpaceMarineasthoughmourninghispassing.Tariqueltookholdofherarmandhauledhertoherfeetwithenoughforceto leaveamarkeven

throughherarmour.‘Itistimeforustogo,farseer,’hesnarled.Hiswarrior’s touchbroughtherbacktoherselfandinamomentofsickeningclarityshesawhe

was right. The threads of the skein surged with power, and she saw the potential danger to theStarbladeinasuddenandpainfulvisionofexplosionsandsplinteringwraithbone.

With tears streaming down her angular cheeks, Bielanna followed the Striking Scorpions backthroughthewebwayportal.

Anageoran instantpassed,aspanofdeep time likeanepochof thegalaxyor the fleeting lifeofadecayingatomicparticle.Kotovfeltalurchofsickeningvertigo,eventhroughhismachinebody,ashisconsciousness returned to the forefront of his brainwith a jolt of cerebral impact.His senseswerepitifullysmall,stuntedthingsthatwerebarelyadequateforbasicexistence,letaloneconversantwiththemysteriesof...

Kotov struggled to remember where he had been and what he had seen, knowing on somedesperatelyfundamentallevelthatitwasvitalhenotforgetthethingshehadlearned.

‘Archmagos?’saidavoiceheknewheoughttorecognise,butwhichwascompletelyunknowntohim.Nothingofhissurroundingswasfamiliartohim,butasthecloakedandhoodedindividualnexttohimlaidaclawed,mechanicalhandonhisshoulder,thatchangedinaninstant.

‘Archmagos?’ said Tarkis Blaylock, his augmitters conveying strain, concern and a measure ofanticipation.

‘Yes,’hemanagedeventually.‘Iamhere.’‘AveDeusMechanicus,’saidBlaylock.‘Ithoughtyouhadbeensubsumedbythemachine-spiritand

werelostforeverinthedatasphere.’‘Nosuchluck,Tarkis,’spatKotov,thenregretteditimmediately.Thoughhecouldrememberalmostnothingofwhathehadexperiencedintheunknowndepthsof

theSperanza’smachineheart,heknewthatwithoutBlaylock’s lifelineto theorganicworldabove,hewouldneverhavereturnedtotheseatofhisconsciousness.

‘Apologies,MagosBlaylock,’hesaid.‘Iamthankfulforyouraidinbringingmeback.’

Blaylocknodded.‘Wereyousuccessful?’‘Successful?’saidKotov.‘I...Idon’tknow.’‘Yes,hewas,’saidGalatea,clatteringovertostandbeforehimonitsawkwardly-constructedlegs.

‘Canyounotfeelthegreatheartofthevesselresponding?’Kotovstaredatthehybridmachineintelligence,andwhathadseemedonlymomentsbeforetobea

creature of immense sophistication and threat now seemed small and primitive, like a wheel-lockpistolnexttoamacro-cannon.

The command deck was still lit with numerous threat responders, damage indicators andcascadinglistsofchrono-gravometricalarms,butoverlayingthatwasasubtlerainofinformation-richlightthatpermeatedtheexistingdatastreamsandsoothedthemwithtailoredalgorithmsofperfectcode.

Systems Kotov had never known existed were activating all over the ship and those that hadpreviouslybeenrenderedblindanduselessbythefuryoftheHaloScarreturnedtolifeasthoughtheyhadneverbeenafflicted.Looping targetingarrays forweaponshehadnever imagined theSperanzapossessingandothersthathedidnotunderstandflashedupbeforetheastrogationandengineeringhubs.

AzuramagelliandSaiixekbackedawayfromtheirstations,confusedandnotalittlefrightenedbythisunknownpowerrisinguparoundthem.Starkagainsttheredofthemaindisplay,theimageofanalienstarshipresolveditself.Itwassmoothandgraceful,itshulllikeataperedgemstoneandtoppedwithavastsailthatbillowedinthegravitationaltempests.Itsimageflickeredanddancedasthoughattemptingtoconcealitselflikeateasingcourtesan,butwhatevermatriceswereatworkintheheartoftheSperanzasawthroughitsglamourswithease.

‘Return to your stations,’ ordered Blaylock, cycling through the information pouring into thecommanddeck.

SaiixeknoddedandAzuramagelli’sarmaturescuttledback to theastrogationhub, inloading thefloodofresurgentinformationasarepresentationoftheExploratorFleetbledintothenoosphere.Itwasadistortedrepresentation,butatleastitgaveKotovasnapshotofwhatassetshehadlefttohim.Hesawthatmanyofhissupportshipsweremissing,andcouldonlyassumetheroguecurrentsandriptideshaddraggedthemoffcourseandseenthempulledapartinthegravitationalstorms.

‘Report,’saidKotovasinformationaliconsflashedtolifearoundthedeck.‘WrathchildandMoonchildclosingandassumingattackpostures,’saidAzuramagelli.‘MortisVossreportsithasafiringsolutionforitstorpedoes,’addedSaiixek.Unable tokeeptherelishfromhisaugmentedvoice,Kryptaestrexsaid, ‘Multiple firingsolutions

havepresentedthemselvestome,archmagos.Iamunabletoascertaintheirsourceorthenatureoftheweaponsystems,buttheyallhavealockonthealienvessel.’

Kotovopenedastablevox-channeltoeveryshipofwarinhisfleet.‘Allvesselsopenfire,’hesaid.‘Iwantthatshipdestroyed.’

TheflanksoftheSperanzashudderedasaweaponsystembuiltintoitssuperstructuregroundupwards

onheavydutyrails.AvastguntuberosefromtheangledplanesoftheArkMechanicuslikethegreatmenhirofsometribalplaceofworshipbeingliftedintoplace.Powerreadouts,thelikesofwhichhadrarelybeenseen intheImperiumsincebeforethewarsofUnity,bloomedwithintheweaponandapairofcirclingtoridescribedtwistingarcsaroundthetaperedendoftheunveiledbarrel.

Elementsofthetechnologythathadgoneintotheirconstructionwouldhavebeenfamiliartosomeof the more esoteric branches of black hole research and relativistic temporal arcana, but theirassembled complexitywould have baffled even the FabricatorGeneral onMars. Pulsing streams ofpurple-huedanti-matterandgravitonpumpscombinedinunknowablewaysintheheartofareactorthatdrew itspower from thedarkmatter that lurked in the spacesbetween the stars. Itwasagundesignedtocrackopenthestately leviathansofancientvoidwar,astarshipkiller thatdeliveredtheultimatecoupdegrace.

WithoutanycommandauthorityfromthebridgeoftheSperanza, theweaponunleashedasilentpulsethatcoveredthedistancetotheStarbladeatthespeedoflight.

Buteventhatwasn’tfastenoughtocatchashipasnimbleasonebuiltbythebonesingersofBiel-Tan and guided by the prescient sight of a farseer. The pulse of dark energy coalesced a hundredkilometresoffthevessel’ssternandaminiatureblackholeexplodedintolife,draggingineverythingwithinitsreachwithhowlingforce.Stellarmatter,lightandgravitywerecrushedastheyweredrawnin and destroyed, and even the Starblade’s speed and manoeuvrability weren’t enough to save itcompletelyasthesecondaryeffectoftheweapon’sdeadlyenergiesbrushedoveritssolarsail.Chrono-weaponryshifteditstargetananosecondintothepast,bywhichtimethesubatomicreactionswithinevery molecule had shifted microscopically and forced identical neutrons into the same quantumspace.

Suchastateofbeingwasuntenableonafundamentallevel,andtheresultantreleaseofenergywascatastrophic for the vastmajority of objects hit by such aweapon. Though on the periphery of thestreamingwavesofchronometricenergy, theStarblade’s solarmastdetonatedas though its internalstructurehadbeenthreadedwithexplosivecharges.Thesailtorefreeoftheship,ghostimagesofitspreviousexistenceflickeringasthepsycho-conductivewraithbonescreamedinitsdeaththroes.Blueflamegeyseredfromthetopsideoftheeldarvesselandthecraft lurchedawayfromtheforceoftheblast.

Its previously distorted and fragmentary outline became solid, and the circling captains of theKotovFleetwastednotimeinloosingsalvoaftersalvooftorpedoesatthenewlyrevealedwarship.

Mortis Voss let fly first, with a thirty-strong battery of warheads aimed in a spreading net thatwouldmakeescapevirtuallyimpossible.WrathchildandMoonchildfollowed,firingbracketingspreadsoftorpedoesbeforebothvesselsheeledovertopresenttheirflankbatteriesoflances.StabbingbeamsofhighenergyblazedattheStarbladeandhadthisengagementbeenfoughtinopenspace,theeldarvesselwouldhavebeen reduced toa rapidlyexpandingbloomof shatteredwraithbone, combustingoxygenandwhite-hotdebris.

The gravitational vagaries of the Halo Scar made for an unforgiving battleground and only ahandfuloftorpedoespunchedthroughitsstarboardhulltotearoutgreatchunksofitsgutsinragingfirestormsofdetonation.

EvenwiththeclarityprovidedbytherousedmachineheartoftheSperanzaitwasimpossibletotellwhat, if anything, had survived the storm of lances, torpedoes and the crushing power of thetemporaryblackhole.Itwascollapsinginonitselfinacannibalisticstormofself-immolation,andbythetimeitsragingfurieshadfadedintothebackgroundradiationoftheScar,therewasnothingtoindicatethepresenceoftheStarblade.

Every shipmaster knew the eldar shiphad likely survived thepunishing assault, but their decksechoedwiththecheersofjubilantratings,manyofwhomhadnotexpectedtolivethroughthebattle.Theelectromagnetichashofthevoidengagementwouldremain lousywithspikesofdirtyradiationforyearstocome,paintingavividpictureofthebattleforanyonethatcaredtolook.

Thechrono-weapon lowered from its firingpositionwithmajesticgraceuntil itwasonceagainflushandsecurewithinthebodyoftheSperanza,invisibleandindistinguishablefromthesurroundingsuperstructure,nodoubtasitsbuildershadintended.

The Starblade was still out there somewhere, but for now its threat had been neutralised, itsboardersrepelledanditscaptaingivenavaluablelessoninhumility.

Andwithitsretreat,theKotovFleetpressedon.

In theend it tookanother sixdaysof sailingand the lossof sevenother vesselsbefore the forwardelement of ArchmagosKotov’s Explorator Fleet finally breached the gravitational boundaries of theHaloScar.Onerefineryvesselwaslostwhenitsastrogationconsolesdevelopedafractionaldegreeofseparationfromitsdesignateddatumpointanditendedupdriftingfromthesafecorridorassignedtoit.

Abinaryneutronstarclustercaughttheshipinitsdivergentgravitywavesandbrokeitintwo.Itsdeathwasmercifullyswiftafterthat,bothhalvescrushedanddraggedintoaddtheirsteelandfleshandbonetothespitefulmassofthedeadstars.Twoemptiedfuelcarrierssufferedenginefailureandwere pulled out of their trajectories before the frantic Mechanicus enginseers could relight theirplasmacores.

Oftheotherfour,aforge-ship,asolarcollectorandtwofabricatussilo-ships,nothingwasknown.Their shipmasters simply ceased their positional reports and no attempt to raise them or pinpointtheirco-ordinatescouldlocatethem.TheHaloScarhadswallowedthemassurelyasthoughtheyhadbeenblownapartbytheeldarwarship.

Mortis Voss was the first ship to register the normalising gravity fields and return its forwardauspexandsurveyorgearbacktonominallevels.Therewasnoclearlydefinedmomentofemergence,simplyagraduallesseningofaberrantgravityandlightdistortionastheworstofthecorpse-starswereleft behind and the last scion of theVoss Prime forgeworld sailed through the scattered clouds ofstellargasanddustthatblurredtheedgeoftheScar.

Itsmater-captainhaltedthevesselassoonasshewasable,andbeganadetailedsurveyorscanofthewildernessspace that surrounded it.What it revealedwassomewhat less than thespectacularlydifferentvistathathadperhapsbeenexpected,butnolessterribleforitsveryfamiliarity.

Overthenextday,moreandmoreshipslimpedfromthedepthsoftheHaloScar;battered,twisted

anddamaged,buttriumphantathavingnavigatedaregionofspacethathadclaimedsomanyothersouls.

The Speranza emerged two days after Mortis Voss, and gratefully inloaded the spatial dataaccumulatedbythelessership’smater-captain.Deepintheastrogationchamber,theMagosTychonsfilledtheirdaysbuildingapictureofthediscoveredspacethatlaybeforethem;itsunknownsuns,itsvastgulfsandtheblindingswatheofruddylightfromtheageingredgiantattheheartofthedyingstarsystemthatlaybeforetheSperanza.

Thedoomedsystemhadbeenalmostcompletelyoverrunbytherunawaynuclearreactionsattheheartof thestar. Ifany innerplanetshadonceexisted theywere longdead,swallowedby thestar’sexpandingcorona,andthelastremainingworldofthesystemwasasolitarypaleorbthathunglikeaglitteringdiamondatthefarthestextentofthestar’sgravitationalreach.

Undernormalcircumstances,anystarinitsdeaththroeswouldbeavoidedasamatterofcourse,thespacewithinthesystemtoovolatileandtoothickwithejectedmatterandradiationtobeworththeriskofventuringtooclose.

YetitwastowardsthislastsurvivingworldthatRobouteSurcoufledtheKotovFleet.

Roboute watched the seething haze of the bloated red giant with a measure of awed respect andsadness.Thisstarhadbirtheditselftenbillionyearsago,butithadnowexhausteditssustainingfuelanditsspanoflifewasatanend.Initsimpossiblyvastexistenceithadknownmanyguises,shoneinvariedspectraandprovided lightandwarmthto thevanishedplanets thathadonceorbited its life-givingrays.

Itmightoncehavebeenworshipped,itmighthavehadmanynamesinitslonglife,butnowitwassimply a dying relic froma timewhen the galaxywas still young and stumbling though its earlieststagesofstellarevolution.ArchmagosKotovhadnameditArcturusUltra,anamethatstruckRobouteasappropriateinseveralways.

He sat in the raised plug-chair next to Kotov’s throne, connected to the Speranza’s noosphericnetworkviathespinalplugs,andfollowedthecoursetrajectoriesplottedbyMagosAzuramagelli.TheyinterceptedtheorbitofthelastplanetoftheArcturusUltrasystem,aworldthathadthusfarsurvivedthestar’sexpandingdeaththroesbyvirtueofhavingitsorbitthrownoutbythestellarreactionsthatwouldsoondestroy it.Roboutehadbeengranted thehonourofgiving thisworldan identifier,andhadchosentonameitaftersomethingbeautifulthatwaslosttohim.

Hecalled itKatenVenia, and itwas thisworld that thememorywaferhehadat lasthanded toArchmagos Kotov had identified as their destination. With their emergence from the Halo Scar,RoboutehadhonouredhisagreementwiththearchmagosandmadehiswaydirectlytothecommanddeckoftheSperanza.

HehadsolemnlyofferedthememorywafertoKotov,whotookamomenttosavourthesensationofhandlingitsgold-embossedsurfaceswithhismachinedhandsbeforeslottingithomeintheshell-likecasingofthelocatorbeaconhekeptmountedonthebackofhiscommandthrone.Theinloadedastrogationdataimmediatelysynchronisedwiththelocalstellarconfigurationandthelocationofthe

craftfromwhichithadbeenejectedwasswiftlypickeduponthelastremainingworldoftheArcturusUltrasystem.

Advanceservitor-probes fired into theouterreachesof thesystemhadprovidedamoredetailedrendering of Katen Venia, its surface a crystalline wasteland of silica peaks and exotic particleradiations.Afaint,butunmistakablyImperialsignalwasbeingbroadcastfromthejaggedhaunchesofa cut-crystal range of mountains, from what was assumed to be the wreck of the Tomioka, MagosTelok’slostflagship.

Magos Azuramagelli and Magos Blaylock had wasted no time in plotting the optimal coursetowardsthesourceofthesignal,anddespitethelossessufferedcrossingtheHaloScar,themoodoftheassembledmagigrewoptimistic.Theplanetwas still tendaysdistant,but seemedso close thattheycouldjustreachoutandpluckitsdiamondbrilliancefromtheheavenslikeajewelofradiantlight.

‘Fittingthatweshouldfindnewbeginningsinaplaceofendings,’saidKotov,callingtheswirlingballoflighttowardshim.

InhonouroftheirarrivalonthefarsideoftheHaloScarandventuringintotheunknownspacebeyondtheknownreachesoftheImperium,ArchmagosKotovhadchosentoattachhiscraniumtoamore regal body than his warrior aspect. This automaton body was robed and gilded in preciousmetals,shimmeringgemstonesandbinaricprayerstrips.Aheavycloakofsilvermailfellincascadingwavesofhexamathicgeometries,andwhilehecarriednoobviousarmaments,therewasnodoubtingthatthetrioofflexingservo-arms,withtheircollectionofclamps,drillsandpincers,couldbewieldedasweapons.

‘Howmuchlongerwillthatstarlastbeforeitexplodes?’askedRoboute.‘Judgingby its radiationoutputand thecompositionof theejectedmatter,perhapsanother few

millionyears,’saidKotov.Roboutenodded.Hehadn’treallyfeltasthoughthestarwasindangerofcatchingthemunawares

withasuddensupernovaevent,butthestrangenessandhostilenatureofitscurrentincarnationmadehimwaryoftheunseenreactionstakingplaceinitscore.

‘Icanbarelyeventhinkofthosekindsofspans,’hesaid.‘It’senoughtimeforentireracestospringintobeing,countlessstellarempirestoriseandfall,anddozensofperiodsofspeciesextinction.’

‘Thehumanmindisvirtuallyincapableofvisualisingsuchcolossalspansoftimerelativetoitsowninfinitesimalexistence,’saidGalatea.‘Itmakeseventssuchasthisseemalmoststatic,whentherealitycouldnotbemoreenergetic.’

Roboute stared at themachine that hunkered down in the centre of the command deck like agrotesque ambushpredator settling into itsnew lair.Kotovhad explained thenature of the gestaltcreaturetohim,butRoboutehadthesensetherewasasmuchleftunsaidashadbeenexplained.

Themagionthecommanddeckweredeathlyafraidof it, thatmuchwasobvious,andgiventheeasewithwhichithadinveigleditselfontotheSperanza,hesuspectedtherewasgoodreasonforthatfear.NoneofthatmatteredtoRoboute.OncehehadledKotovtoKatenVenia,therewasnothinglefttobindhimtothecauseoftheAdeptusMechanicus.

HewasfreeandclearoftheImperium,aservanttonomanandlimitedonlybyhisownsenseofdiscoveryandimagination.IttookallhiswillpowertoremainseatedandnotrushdowntotheRenard

andflyoffinthedirectionofthenearesthabitablesystemandseewhatwasoutthere.Secondstarontheright,andstraightontillmorning...

+++InloadAddenda+++

Abrehemawoketothesoundofratchetingmachineryandthestinkofhotmetal.Hewaslyingonhisbackonanuncomfortablemetalgurney,somewherewithaceilingtiledinbottle-greenceramic.Thesmell of counterseptic and drifting incense was powerful, and he tasted the unpleasant tang ofovercooked meat and burnt hair from somewhere nearby. He blinked, and his eyes registered anumberofbinariclocatorsetchedintothewalls.

‘Ah,youareawake,’saidavoice,metallicandmuffledbyavoluminoushood.Abrehemtriedtositup,buthislimbswerenothistocontrol.‘Whycan’tImove?’hesaid,notyetalarmedbythisturnofevents.‘Youarestill feelingtheeffectsof themusclerelaxantsandmotion-dampers,’saidthevoice. ‘It’s

quitenormaltofeelalittledisorientationaftersurgery.’‘Surgery?Whatsurgery?’‘Howmuchdoyourememberoftheeldarattack?’Thelastthingherememberedwasthehorrificpainof...‘Myarm!’hegasped,attemptingtoturnandlookathisarm.Hisheadwouldn’tmove,butatthe

farthestextentofhisvisionhecouldseeapairofmedicaeservitorsbendingoverhisshoulderandanumberoffloatingsurgicalservo-skullswithdartingsuture-calipersandnerve-graftlasers.

‘Don’tworry,thesurgerywasacompletesuccess,’saidthevoice.‘Whatdidyoudotome?’criedAbrehem.‘You’renotturningmeintoaservitor,areyou?’‘Aservitor?AveDeusMechanicus,no!’‘Thenwhatareyoudoing?’‘Fixingyou,’saidthespeaker,andnowtheownerofthevoiceleanedoverAbrehemastheservo-

skullsfloatedaway.Themedicaeservitorsgathereduptheirequipmentandanumberofkidneybowlsfilledwithwhatlookedlikelumpsofblackened,overcookedmeat.

‘Wasthatmyarm?’askedAbrehem.‘Itwas,’saidthehoodedadept,andAbrehemrecognisedhimastheoverseer,TothaMu-32.‘Itwas

farbeyondsaving,andwillbedisposedofwiththerestofthebiologicalmateriallostintheattack.’‘Imperator,’gaspedAbrehem,fightingtocontrolhisbreathing.‘Myarm...’TothaMu-32’sblanksilvermaskandpaleblueopticsmanagedtoregistersurprise.‘Ah,ofcourse,’hesaid,bendingtoagurglingmachinethatAbrehemcouldn’tquitesee.Ahissing

pumpmechanismengagedandacracklinghumofpowerthatAbrehemhadtakenforthebackgroundnoiseoftheroomfellsilent.

WarmthandfeelingreturnedtoAbrehem’s limbsalmost immediately,andheflexedhis fingers,enjoyingthesensationofmovementuntilherealisedsomethingdidn’tmakesense.

Hewasflexingthefingersofbothhishands.

Hesatupsharply, feelingabriefmomentofnauseaas the lingeringeffectsof thedrugshehadbeengivensloshedaroundhisbloodstream.Hesatonasurgicalslabinagreen-tiledmedicaebaywithbanksofsilverworkbenches,mortuarycompartmentsandsuspendedmachinerywithenoughblades,drillsandclampstolooklikeexcruciationengines.

‘Ihaveanewarm,’hesaid.Hisrightarmwasfashionedfromdarkmetal,withabronzecowlingatthejunctionoffleshand

machine.Thefingersweresegmentedbronze,andtheelbowasphericalgimbalthatallowedforthreehundred and sixty degrees of rotation. Abrehem flexed the fingers, finding them slightly slower torespondthantheirfleshandbloodcounterparts,butstillabletoarticulateineverywaythatmattered.

‘Itisnotasophisticatedaugmetic,butitwasthebestIcoulddo,I’mafraid,’saidTothaMu-32.‘Youarrangedthis?’askedAbrehem.‘Why?’TothaMu-32chuckled.‘Youreallydon’tremember,doyou?’‘Rememberwhat?’‘Killingtheeldarwar-leader?’‘IremembershootinghimwithHaw...Imean,withthatplasmapistol.’TothaMu-32wavedawaythequestionoftheweapon’sownershipandsaid,‘Exactly.Thatweapon

was six hundred years old and its power cell didn’t have somuch as a pico-joule left in it. And itsplasmacoilhadcorrodedsobadlythatitshouldneverhavefiredatall.’

‘Idon’tunderstand,’saidAbrehem.‘Whatareyousaying?’TothaMu-32leanedforwards,hisvoicedroppingtoaconspiratorialwhisper.‘Iamsayingthatthey

arerightaboutyou,AbrehemLocke.YouareMachine-touched.TheOmnissiahwatchesoveryouandasparkofhisdivinefiremoveswithinyou.’

‘No,’saidAbrehem,shakinghishead.‘You’rewrong.Idon’tknowhowthatpistolfired,butitwasnothingtodowithme.Itwasanaccident,afluke.’

‘Thenhowdoyouexplainthat?’saidTothaMu-32,pointingoverAbrehem’sshoulder.Abrehemturnedandsawtheiron-maskedkillerwhohadcarveduptheeldarwarriorsinthetime

it took to blink.His physique had returned to something approaching normal, though hewas stillvastlymuscledandinsanelypowerfullooking.Hehadbeenclothedinablackvestandapairofgreyfatigues, and wore heavy iron-shod boots. The writhing silver flails were retracted into his bronzegauntlets,makinghimlookasthoughhehadslenderclawsforhands.

The red IconMechanicus on his foreheadwas like a burning third eye, and he bared gleamingfangsashesensedAbrehem’sgaze.

‘Byyourleave,’hegrowled,bowinghismetal-encasedhead.‘Whatisit?’askedAbrehem,feelingalethalsenseofhair-triggerdangerfromthebiologicaldeath

machine.‘Anarco-flagellant,’saidTothaMu-32.‘Yourarco-flagellant.’

Boominghymnals inpraiseof theOmnissiah inhisaspectof theLifeGiverechoed fromthe forge-temple of Magos Turentek as the heavy piston cranes angled the reclining fabricator cradle fromhorizontaltovertical inanecessarilyslowarc.TheArkFabricatushimself,ahardwiredcollectionof

assembly equipment, dangling construction arms, lifter gear and a cab from which his biologicalcomponentscouldoverseetheworkinhismanyforges,movedacrosstheceilingrailsatapacethatmatchedtheascentofthefabricatorcradle.

Tohaveachievedsomuchinsoshortatimewasnothingshortofmiraculous,andthedeafeninghymnsandcascadesofbinarywereprayersofthankstotheMachine-Godforfacilitatingtheworkhehaddonehere.OnanyvesselotherthantheSperanza, the taskwouldhavebeen impossible,butnotonlyhadTurentekachievedtheimpossible,hehaddoneitaheadofschedule.

Sheetsoftarpaulinlikethesailsofocean-goingshipsfellfromthecradleandmooringlineswereblastedclearwithpneumaticpressure.Vatsofblessedoilsandlubricantsupendedovertheenormouscradleandabaptismalraincoatedtherenewedcarapaceofheavyarmourandawarriorrestoredtohisformerglory.

As Turentek’s great feat of engineering was revealed, the warhorns of its brethren howled inwelcome,drowningout the throngsof adepts,devoteesandmagiwhohadassisted inbringing thegod-machineofLegioSiriusbackfromthebrinkofdeath.

AmarokandVilkalopedbackandforth,theWarhoundsbeckoningtotheirrestoredpack-mate.AndCanisUlfricatookaponderousstepfromthefabricatorcradle,theboomingechoofitssplay-

clawedfootdrawingforthyetmorecriesofadulationandwelcome.EryksSkálmöldwalkedhisReaverfullyfromitscradle,rebornandrestored,thegrey,blueandgoldofitsarmourlikenew.

The wounds that the Moonsorrow had suffered were now fully repaired and a new bloodingbanneraddedtoitsoil-drippingcarapace.Thephysicalreminderofitshumblinghadbeenerased,butthementalrepercussionswerefarfromhealed,andSkálmöldhaltedtheTitanashelookedupintothewolf-maskofhispackmaster’sengine.

LupaCapitalinatoweredoverthehost,magisterialasitsurveyedthethousandsofCultMechanicusswarmingatitsfeet.Forthebriefestinstant,asensorghostflickeredthroughtheWarlord’sManifold,tooinconsequentialtobenoticedbyanyonesaveaseniorprinceps,askitteringbio-echoofalongagovanquishedfoe.

CanisUlfrica’ssnarlingsnoutflinched,anditsshoulderscrankedasittoofelttheechothroughtheManifold. TheReaver and theWarlordmet each other’s gaze, and amoment of silent communionpassedbetweenthesingularmindsencasedwithintheiramniotictanks.

CanisUlfricalowereditsheadinagestureofsubmission.ButonlytheWintersunfelthowgrudginglyitwasmade.

Images scrolled through Magos Blaylock’s optical feeds, frozen moments of history captured forposterityandanypotentialfuturerecordsofhislifeanddeeds.Centuriesofmaterialwasstoredinhisexo-memorycoilsanddecadeswithinhisownskull-memes.Hislifehadbeenoneofachievementanddutifulservice,andhehadensuredacomprehensiverecordoftheKotovexpeditionfortheundoubtedinquiriestofollow.

HehadnopersonalagendawithLexellKotov,butknewthathisownorganisationalabilitiesandpowersofstatisticalanalysisfaroutstrippedthoseofthearchmagos.Tohavelostthreeforgeworldswasinexcusable,andwiththeresourcesofKotov’sMartianforgesathisdisposal,Blaylockknewwitha

significantdegreeofstatisticalcertainty thathecouldextendthepowerof theAdeptusMechanicusintoregionsofspacethathadyettofullydeveloptheirpotential.

Butthosewereambitionsforalaterday.First, this expedition needed to be discredited, and Blaylock believed he had found his first

weapon.The images he had blink-clicked while in the stateroom of Roboute Surcouf swam into focus,

meaningless commendations in the armed services ofUltramar,Naval commissions and rank pinsfrom various ships of the line. The images flickered pastwith a pulse of thought, captured imagesmovinginrapidprocessionlikeachild’sflipbookanimation.

Atlasthecametotheimagehesought,andwhatuntilnowhadonlybeenasuspicionarousedbyananomalousdatadiscrepancyintheManifoldrecordwasmoveduptoacertaintyashezoomedinonthedocumenthungbehindtheroguetrader’sdesk.

TheLetterofMarqueboreSegmentumPacificusaccreditation, and thewingedeagleofBakkansectorcommandwasacomplexmulti-dimensionalhololith,withnumerousdeeplayersofencryptionthatmadeitvirtuallyimpossibletoconvincinglycounterfeit.

Virtuallyimpossible,butnotentirelyimpossible.Blaylock’sfloodstreamswelledwithwhatapproximatedpleasureforanadeptoftheMechanicus.Surcouf’sLetterofMarquewasafake.

TheBlack Templars bowed their heads in prayer, six grief-strickenwarriors kneeling in one of theSperanza’sfewtemplesdedicatedexclusivelytothegloryoftheEmperor.Noneofthemworearmour,and eachwarrior’s bare back was scouredwith the whips and hooked chains of self-mortification.Thickclotsofstickybloodrandowneachwarrior’sflayedskinandBrother-SergeantTannaknewthatsuchpaincouldneverbeenoughtoatonefortheirfailure.

TheirReclusiarchwasdeadandnotoneofthemhadsomuchasliftedabladeinhisdefence.TheBlackTemplarswerenowwarriorswithoutaplacetocall theirown,bereftof theirspiritual

leader andeverything that connected them to theirpast and theirduty.TheSperanzawas not theirship, and its inhabitantswere not their people. The six of themwere all that remained of the ScarCrusade, and Tanna found it almost impossible not to believe that they had been cursed since thedeathofAeliusatDantiumGate.

ThedeathofanEmperor’sChampionwasamomentofunimaginable losstothewarriorsoftheBlackTemplars,andthoughKulGiladhadclaimedthiscrusadewasneitherpenancenorpunishment,itwashardnottothinkofitthatway.Cutofffromtheirfellowcrusadersandtrappedonthefarsideofthegalaxy,theywereasaloneasitwaspossibletobe.

Yetforallthat,thiswasachancetocontinuetheworkoftheGreatCrusade,achancetobringtheEmperor’slighttothosethathadneverbeenblessedtoknowofitsexistence.HehadtriedtomitigateKulGilad’s losswithsuchsentiment,but thewoundwas too freshand toorawforhiswarriors.Nomerewordsofhiscouldsalvetheirbrokenprideandsavagedhonour.

Tannacursedhislimitations.Hewasasergeant,abattleleaderwhoknewhowtofollowordersanddrivethemenaroundhimtocompletethem.Butwithnoonetogivethoseordersandnoonetofill

theirheartswithfireandblood,whatwaslefttothem?Tannawasnogreatorator,nogreatinnovatoroftacticsorphilosophy.

Hewasastalwartofthebattleline,aredoubtablefighterandareliablekiller.Hewasnotaleader,andthewarriorsaroundhimknewit.ForthefirsttimesincehiselevationtotheFightingCompanies,Tannafeltutterlyalone.Thoughhehadfoughtandbledalongsidetheseheroicwarriorsforthebetterpartoftwocenturies,

evenTannaknewanunbreakablebondoftrusthadturnedtoashesbetweenthem.Vardaclaimednotto judge him for giving the order to launch the Barisan and fly the Thunderhawk through thegravitationalstormstowardstheSperanza,butasubtleandsteadilywideninggaphadopenedbetweenthetwobrothers.

AndthoughVardawasamerebattle-brother,hewasthisCrusade’sEmperor’sChampion,andthatgavehimasenioritythatnorankcouldaffordtoignore.

Tannarose fromhisprayers,hischest, shouldersandbackgougedwithself-inflictedwoundsofshame.Inonehandhecarriedabarbedchainandintheotherhiscombatblade.Bothwerewetwithhis lifeblood.He turned to addresshiswarriors, and their cold staresuponhimweremorepainfulthantheflesh-scourgescouldeverhopetobe.

‘TrustintheEmperoratthehourofbattle,’hesaid,fallingbackonritualcatechism.‘TrusttoHimtointercede,andprotectHiswarriorsastheydealdeathonaliensoil.’‘Turntheseseastoredwiththebloodoftheirslain.’Tannabrokewithtraditionashespokethelastlineofthisbattle-oathwithhiswarriors.‘Crushtheirhopes,theirdreams.Andturntheirsongsintocriesoflamentation.’

AbouttheAuthor

HailingfromScotland,GrahamMcNeillworkedforoversixyearsasaGamesDeveloperinGamesWorkshop’sDesignStudiobeforetakingtheplungetobecomeafull-timewriter.Graham’swrittenahostofSFandFantasynovelsandcomics,aswellasanumberofsideprojectsthatkeephimbusyand(mostly)outoftrouble.HisHorusHeresynovel,AThousandSons,wasaNewYorkTimesbestsellerandhisTimeofLegendsnovel,Empire,wonthe2010DavidGemmellLegendAward.GrahamlivesandworksinNottinghamandyoucankeepuptodatewithwherehe’llbeandwhathe’sworkingonbyvisitinghiswebsite.

Jointheranksofthe4thCompanyatwww.graham-mcneill.com