He rounded a corner and heard voices. There were warriors in the refectorum, though not all of them were there. He quickened his pace. His augmented hearing identified the gruff laughter of Bjarni Arvisson, and there were three others in there at least. He heard Justinian Parris speak, and Bjarni laugh again. Then came the quiet voice of Kalael, gene-kin of the Lion. As he neared, their words became more distinct and he eavesdropped on their conversation. There were sounds indicating perhaps six more of his brothers, their low conversation muffled by the hard metallic sounds of weapons being taken apart and cleaned.

He was almost sixty metres from the refectorum. As he approached, a Primaris Space Marine in a day robe emerged from a side room, carrying a dented vambrace and a tool roll. His eyes rose in surprise.

‘Brother-captain!’ he said.

‘Solus,’ said Felix. He halted before his old comrade, and the two of them clasped arms. Felix reached up and disengaged his helm, lifted it over his head and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.

Laphis was further out from Macragge’s star than the capital world, but the skies were thin, and the sun burned easily. Felix’s skin was light brown, his hair black. It was long for a Space Marine, its fringe swept over light grey eyes that conveyed an impression of utmost seriousness.

Solus was of Sanguinius’ line and was as pale and beautiful as his gene-lord had reputedly been. His eyes were a colourless blue. Though the Unnumbered Sons wore armour coloured the same as the First Founding Chapters they were kin with, their day robes were grey. Solus, however, had dyed his red when Felix had been aboard, in honour of Sanguinius.

‘To what do we owe this pleasure?’ asked Solus.

‘The pleasure is mine, my brother,’ said Felix.

Solus gave him a quizzical look. His lips parted, showing sharp eye teeth. ‘You seem distracted.’

Felix smiled. ‘It is good to see you.’

‘That means you have bad news,’ said Solus. ‘I can see it, brother.’

‘Am I really that transparent?’

‘I do not need to be of the Librarius to read your face, Felix. You are not a man who dissembles well.’

Felix reached out and grasped Solus’ shoulder.

‘The news is both good and bad, my friend. Good and bad. Come, I will share it with all of you. You deserve to hear it from me – it is the least I can do.’

There was a horrendous crash, and a roar of laughter went up from the refectorum, most of it Bjarni’s feral bellow.

‘Do I have to say that half of them are in there?’ said Solus.

‘I hear them, though Bjarni Arvisson makes the noise of ten men. It is good. I want to speak with them all.’

‘Then I shall fetch the others. I will spread the word, captain.’

‘Is Lieutenant Sarkis on board?’ asked Felix.

‘He is in the armorium.’