‘Not in the plan, brother-captain, but in our knowledge. We don’t know enough about these false beings to fully estimate their objectives and strategy.’ Praxa­medes pointed an armoured finger into the swirl of red light. ‘There is a large non-combatant vessel. We first detected it when the necron fleet was scattered but assumed it was a second ­echelon supply ship. I’m not so sure now. They’ve moved it to the centre of the fleet.’

‘A weapon, you think?’

‘I really don’t know. It can’t be anything tactical, it would have been deployed in the initial attack. We know that necrons teleport their dead from the battlefield and can also teleport directly into battle; perhaps this support ship is some kind of function of that?’

‘I will bear that in mind as events unfold,’ said Aeschelus, shutting down the display. ‘Too many variables, but we must fight with what we have against what we can see. The xenos would have us chase guesswork instead of working to solid military theory.’

‘Yes, brother-captain.’ The lieutenant banged his fist to his chest in salute.

They returned to the strategium together, where Aeschelus formally passed command of the ship to his second. He took one last look around the command bridge, aware that he might not see it again.

‘I will do my utmost to return the ship to you in good condition, brother-captain.’ So impassive was Praxa­medes’ expression that Aeschelus could not tell if he was being sincere or deadpan.

‘You had better,’ he replied in similar spirit.

With that he departed, heading to the launch bays and the squads already waiting for him aboard the gunships. He checked the chrono­meter. The necrons would be upon them within the hour.

Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Flanked by the Bladeguard and Judiciar Admonius, Nem­etus leapt the last few yards from the ramp of the gunship into the heart of the necron advance. In the midst of the Space Marines rose the relic standard of the company, held aloft by Ancient Magnatus. Affixed to gilded wings were the bones of Calistes Orkbane, a favoured captain who had thwarted the orks of Sylphis nearly five thousand years earlier. Preserved in regal stasis, now his remains looked out on the hated xenos once more, an inspiration to every battle-brother that beheld them. Nem­etus felt heartened by the relic’s presence, reminded that all great deeds echoed long into the future.

Like a blue-clad thunderbolt, the Ultramarines spear tip smashed into the marching warriors, power swords cutting through living metal, shields blazing as skeletal fists and gauss rays struck back. Behind them the gunship landed, spilling squads of Intercessors, their bolt rifles ablaze as they formed into a firing line, striding purposefully towards the necrons.