A moment later, the lumens died, and the few machines in the room relying on more natural forms of power flickered off.

‘Bjarni has fulfilled his role,’ said Justinian. He switched to a direct vox link to Lieutenant Sarkis. ‘Tower Beta is neutralised. Flak batteries are down. Central fire control destroyed.’

‘Affirmative. Notification heard,’ replied Sarkis. ‘We are done here. Rendezvous with the others. Await further instruction.’

‘Come on,’ said Justinian to Aldred. ‘We shall wait upon the roof. We can jump free if the enemy decide to bring the building down around us.’

By the time they rejoined Bjarni and Rusticus’ squads on the parapet, drop pods were plummeting down from the sky like fiery rain. They touched down behind the wall, untroubled by flak thanks to the Primaris Inceptor squads. Similarly, the army outside now advanced free from the attentions of artillery fire.

Bjarni peered down over the parapet, then turned his grey helmet towards Justinian and Rusticus.

‘It is boring up here.’

‘We are awaiting orders,’ said Rusticus.

‘We are awaiting orders,’ parroted Bjarni dismissively, mocking Rusticus’ grave voice. ‘Well, fine for you. I am not missing the battle. Are you two honestly going to stand here and watch?’ He ignited his jump pack, its throaty roar deafening in such proximity. Heat wash battered Justinian as Bjarni’s squad mates followed suit.

Rusticus cursed. ‘Savage,’ he said, but meant it fondly, more or less.

Justinian laughed drily.

‘I would hurry if I were you,’ voxed Bjarni. His assault bolters made long pealing reports under his voice. ‘I will save you some, but there are not that many left.’

‘He is right,’ said Justinian.

‘He is not following protocol,’ said Rusticus.

‘Lieutenant Sarkis, this is Sergeant Justinian, notifying immediate reengagement in combat. Tower is clear, we move to aid landing forces.’ Justinian activated his jets, slowly – slamming them into action like Bjarni had done shortened the lifespan of the jet rotors. ‘There, brother sergeant,’ he said to Rusticus. ‘Protocol satisfied.’

Justinian opened up his jet throttle. Aldred followed him over the parapet. His fuel indicator was blinking madly, the tank close to exhaustion. It added to the exhilaration of dropping into combat. The ground rushed up at him so fast in comparison to his stately freefall from orbit, he barely had time to process the sprinting figures and explosions before he was in the thick of battle.

He shut his jets off ten metres above the ground, letting his impact dampeners take the jolt of falling. He landed in a crouch, stood with the grumbling purr of his armour soothing his ears and strode into battle.