‘I don’t think there’s anyone here that would stop you, if that’s what you mean, brother-captain,’ replied the lieutenant. ‘I can’t say I’m familiar with any legalities involved.’

‘See?’ Aeschelus glared at Fedualis. ‘If Prax approves, I must be in the right.’

‘Lieutenant…’ The astropath turned his wheedling on Praxa­medes. ‘See sense. Why alienate the Oresteans? We need their safe harbour and the alliance of their troops.’

‘Why are you so concerned with what happens to this Imperial commander?’ asked Praxa­medes.

‘Good question,’ grunted Aeschelus as he crossed the airlock and onto the station territory. The entry bridge swayed slightly under his weight, and sagged a little as the honour guard marched onto it.

‘I am afraid, captain, lieutenant,’ said Fedualis, looking defiantly at each in turn. ‘Scared. Just like the people you are about to meet. We are not engineered to be immune to these terrors. We react. I am scared of the necrons and I am very scared of the nullification of the warp that they have engineered. We are stranded here, captain. The Oresteans probably know this better than we do. I do not know if the necrons care for allies, but if they do then perhaps their ambassadors would find more fertile ground for the seeds of their words if we arrive and try to take over.’

‘I am not taking over,’ said Aeschelus, dismayed by the thought. ‘I am no bureaucrat.’

‘And how does it appear, if a Space Marine captain comes into a system, executes the Imperial commander and makes demands for soldiers and arms? Is that not a coup? Are not the Adeptus Astartes expressly forbidden such authority and ambitions except on their recruitment worlds?’

Aeschelus was about to snap back a retort but after a moment’s thought had to concede that the astropath might have a valid point. The Indomitus Crusade was about reconnecting the Imperium to the Emperor. He had been warned that he might encounter former Imperial societies that had fallen from the grace of the Emperor or been enslaved by alien ideals. Just as the lord pri­march had striven during the golden age of the Great Crusade to bring peace and order, so his renewed endeavour was about the unification of humanity under the banner of Terra once more.

Doors buzzed open ahead, revealing two lines of red-jacketed troopers holding their lasguns to their chests. More red filled a hallway beyond.

A slender figure appeared from the ranks, dressed in a black habit edged with scarlet, her hood about her shoulders, a slender silver chain with the symbol of the Adepta Sororitas hanging across her forehead. She was middle-aged, hair greying at the temples, a slightly waxy appearance to her skin that suggested early use of anti-ageing tonics. There were callipers enclosing the digits of each hand, disappearing into the sleeves of her vestment.

‘Sister-Chatelain Aures, I presume,’ said the captain. ‘Of the Orders Famulous.’