Before the plasmancer could finish, Simut felt a sudden encumbrance upon his cortical field. A powerful communications signal was incoming, and even before it arrived he could guess its source.

‘You are dismissed,’ he snarled, waving a hand. Translocators whipped the royal warden, lychguards and plasmancer to a secondary chamber several levels below. A pulsed imperative closed the doors, barring their exit until he was ready for them.

On the hierolith, a grainy image of Tholotep appeared, standing tall in full regalia. The manner of the transmission’s arrival spoke volumes – a higher-powered insertion directly into the control matrix, not an underling’s request for connection. Yet the appearance of the emissary was disappointing. Simut had thought such an authoritative transmission would come from the king himself, not a simple herald.

‘Greetings, tongue of my cousin,’ said Simut, rising slightly to incline his head. He sat down again. ‘I am honoured by my cousin’s regard.’

‘There is no good regard, Simut,’ barked the emissary. ‘And cease this affectation of familial identity. King Szarekh is very disappointed. An alarming series of protocol breaches have been detected in your matrix. We cannot locate the Barge of the Stormhawk nor several of your attendant barques.’

‘There have been complications in the seventh system of the Anarakh Veil. A brief resurgence of opposition that will soon be overcome.’

‘The loss of your tomb ship is a complication? Pity you were not aboard it. The operation is at a critical juncture, gaining momentum across several systems. You were tasked with escorting resonators to blackstone-scarce worlds because it is a simple labour, quite within your capabilities. You need no expertise on alignment and construction, simply to guide the resonator to its appointed site and allow it to activate.’

‘The barbarians are unsurprisingly resistant to the idea of being cowed,’ said Simut. ‘Did you not think there would be war?’

‘Your excuses are futile. Only results have substance. What is your plan to regain control of the situation?’

‘I will proceed with alacrity, escorting the resonator to the site and installing it as soon as possible. Its presence and activation will still any further combative elements the enemy can muster. They seem unaware of its role and so bringing it to the surface of the third world does not require much in the way of subterfuge.’

‘Very well. This is your last chance, Simut. If you fail, if you take too long, the king will remove you from your office and banish you to the stasis coils.’

‘No.’

The thought of an eternity in conscious limbo filled Simut with dread. Having woken from an aeons-long slumber to see the galaxy upended, he would not be rendered idle and impotent while the necrons reclaimed their glorious position of dominance.

‘It shall be done. Tell my cousin he may have rivals in another dynasty. I have been the victim of an attempted assassination. Who knows what other plots are afoot?’