A blue line rose up the display towards him. The atmosphere of 108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2 was thin. It would take him twenty minutes to fall to the ground.

For minutes he fell in silence. The surface was so far away he appeared to be making no progress.

There is no sharp delineation between a world’s air envelope and the void, but instead a region of increasing attenuation where, atom by atom, air gives way to vacuum. But there does exist a point where the air becomes thick enough to support atmospheric flight – the Kármán line – and there, air becomes thick enough to feel. Justinian hit it with a jolt. Heat followed almost immediately as friction, imperceptible only moments before, quickly built around his armour. A plasma-torch roar filled his ears.

The coming moments were critical. Gaining a good angle of descent at this stage would ensure mission success – a colourless statement that meant only that he would not die before the enemy got a chance to shoot at him.

An alarm sounded in his ear. Cordus’ signifier flashed.

‘Cordus, correct course two points vertical, you are drifting,’ said Justinian.

‘Yes, brother sergeant,’ Cordus responded. His signifier dot and its accompanying rune moved across Justinian’s display, and the graphic ceased blinking.

The others spread out into a wide dispersion pattern. Three targets awaited the demi-company’s attention: a series of closely bunched bastions, each one bristling with ordnance.

A bright corona of heat streamed around Justinian, most intense about the reinforced ceramite of his boots. It became uncomfortable, but not dangerous. Provided there was no breach in his Inceptor battleplate, he would be safe.

Soon after, he reached terminal velocity and stopped accelerating. The curve of the world grew quickly, filling his vision with the ground. As the minutes passed, space retreated to the periphery of his vision and vanished. When the last of the black was gone, he finally felt like he was falling. Individual surface features resolved themselves, details popping into sharp definition, though all were flattened by his relative height, so that mountains appeared as painted flourishes upon a round canvas.

Below him, fighting raged upon a plain bordered by a range of hills pierced by a wide valley. Across the valley mouth was a great wall, and a strong fortress not far behind. Two battle lines became visible. Their exchanges of fire were startling weaves of light. A vast phalanx of Astra Militarum tanks, supported by Adeptus Mechanicus cyborg troops and war machines, advanced on the wall from the drop zone.

The wall looked like a ribbon, but in truth it was almost one hundred metres tall, and forty wide. The Titans of the Legio Metalica swelled, their carapace insignia taking on form. They were now the size of men, and the warriors milling about their feet had become the insects. The scene grew before Justinian’s eyes, unfolding like a fractal tapestry.