Nem­etus laughed. ‘No, but it would not hurt if you came down here and used yours a little, brother.’

‘The captain has stated he will command any counter-attack force. I’ll be wielding the cruiser again.’ Nem­etus heard a long sigh.

‘You are a great commander, brother, and the captain knows it.’

‘We have far greater concerns than my lack of recent field experience. I trust you will hold the facility and not get distracted.’

‘Ancient Magnatus came down with the Bladeguard in the last orbital lifter carriage. The captain has sent me the company standard as a reminder of my duty to this place. Not that I needed it.’

‘Of course not. The Emperor protects, brother. And we are the Emperor’s will. I shall see you again when the battle is done.’

‘The Emperor’s grace follows you, brother.’

Nem­etus killed the vox connection and looked out from the berm. Would the enemy attack first from the north or the south-east, or both together? Did it matter?

He disliked waiting for the enemy; it spoke of inaction and surrender­ing the initiative. But he had sworn to defend the lifting site. On the other hand, Nem­etus reasoned, an aggressive defence was still a defence.

He opened a vox to the pilot of the gunship that had brought down Ancient Magnatus. After all, he was not a patient commander.

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

The humans were obliging in their ignorance. While Simut’s fleet regrouped, they had wasted any chance of escaping by shuffling their ships around in orbit over the third planet. The course of the orbital installation that had proved problematic had brought it almost directly over the battle about to unfold on the ground. While the barbarians probably thought themselves safer under the protection of the huge artificial satellite, it simply presented Simut with a single target. He was not one to overcomplicate plans and so the fleet set forth at highest speed to confront the enemy while they were concentrated.

He noticed that Ah-hotep had spent a considerable amount of time in the resurrection vaults of late and now her cortical field was virtually cocooned within the Sun of Endings’ sensor banks.

‘What do you see, plasmancer?’ he demanded, tugging at her communications matrix. ‘What energising sight takes your eye from the battle?’

The hovering entity drifted closer to the command throne, eyes flicker­ing with annoyance.

‘I dance to the background radiation of the universe, my lord, and sway to the rhythms of the stars.’ She bowed, as well as she could, and stretched a hand towards the photoglyphic plates. They burst into bright light, flooding the mastaba with a shifting, golden hue.

‘It is beautiful,’ Simut admitted. ‘But hardly appropriate to be so distracted even as we close in on my final victory.’

‘A marred beauty, my Lord of Hosts,’ said Phetos, gesturing towards the display. The golden expanse shrank away, centring on an area mottled with black dots.