‘Why must I incur these disruptions to my musing? Can I not contemplate the mysteries of the cosmos in peace?’

‘Apologies, my lord, but you should monitor this exchange among the boundary patrol.’

‘Very well, transfer it to my cortical feed.’

Barque, Star of Natarun-4: Unknown vessel detected.

Barque, Star of Natarun-1: Qualify statement.

Barque, Star of Natarun-4: Unknown vessel detected on closing course.

Barque, Star of Natarun-3: Ridiculous. There is no– Where did that come from?

Barque, Star of Natarun-1: What are you addressing? Confirm from central scanning field; there is no unidentified vessel. Some kind of refractive glitch. Recali­brate sensors, you fools.

Barque, Star of Natarun-3: It is there, I can sense it. Plasmic signature, human design.

Barque, Star of Natarun-4: I detect it clearly. It appears unwelcoming.

Alarmed, Simut thrashed through Phetos to interact directly with the barque squadron, shunting the royal warden’s consciousness aside.

‘Where?’ he demanded, filtering the escorts’ sensor data through the matrix of the tomb ship. ‘What are you seeing?’

There was nothing. A glitch, as the squadron leader had surmised.

‘Further reports of incoming enemy vessel, Lord of Hosts,’ said Phetos, reasserting his presence on the matrix. ‘Triangulating position from reports, but it is not showing up directly on our scan grid.’

‘Impossible.’ Simut withdrew from the link even as he recoiled on his throne. ‘The humans do not possess that kind of technology.’

‘Their technological progress is idiomatic and isolated, Heavenly Hawk. Perhaps this is a unique vessel, an experimental design?’

‘Where is it now?’ Simut demanded, ripping the data from Phetos to throw it onto the main display.

A large ship, almost as big as the tomb ship, had crossed the orbital threshold from the far side of the planet and was now closing at speed.

‘Some aelderite sorcery, stolen by the humans or volunteered?’ pondered the overlord as he recali­brated the sensor sweep to draw its data from the secondary craft of the fleet.

‘A small astromantic presence detected, my authority, but nothing significant,’ said the royal warden. ‘I suggest arming all weapons.’

‘See to it,’ snapped Simut, who had more pressing matters to worry about. If there was an alliance between the humans and the ancient enemies of the necrons, that posed a far greater threat than one vessel.

‘Escort fleet requires directives, Lord of the Eight Seals,’ said Phetos. ‘Other enemy system craft are closing. Shall they engage?’

‘No. My ship is more than a match for this intruder. Let us not waste more craft than necessary. Have them withdraw and stand ready to counter-attack once we have mastered this brute.’

At the urging of the royal warden, the escorts peeled back from the approach of the onrushing enemy, circling around behind it once it was beyond weapons range.

‘Its weapons are targeting us, my lord,’ announced Phetos. ‘Energy beams, focused plasma and a large bore chemical reaction cannon.’

‘Is that all?’