‘Another sixty seconds,’ replied Nem­etus, keenly aware not only of the changing battlescape but also of the other xenos force pressing its attack at the lifting facility. There was no point blunting the flanking army only to allow the main attack to gain the walls in the Space Marines’ absence. ‘We have to break their strength.’

‘They have no will to break, brother-lieutenant,’ said Brother ­Garios of the Bladeguard. ‘I do not think we can fell each and every one.’

As though the words were a challenge, Admonius broke from the group, his raised greatsword trailing an azure gleam. Against the war cries and crackle of xenos weaponry his silence was stark, broken only by the thunderous sound of his blade of office crashing down onto the silvered skull of a necron. The alien burst apart, falling at the Judiciar’s feet. A hand feebly clawed at his leg as his charge continued, his powered weapon splitting open the chest of another xenos opponent.

‘As always, the Chaplains lead where we follow,’ said Nem­etus, breaking into a run, shield held against the sudden flash of beams that sprang towards him.

The downdraft of thrusters washed over the Space Marines as the gunship made one more pass, hull-mounted assault bolters and wing-tip rocket pods tearing a ragged furrow through the assembling necrons. Turning sharply, its plasma jets incinerating a dozen more foes, the gunship plunged groundward ahead of the Ultramarines. From its ramp, a squad of three Eradicators opened fire, their melta rifles vaporising the nearby xenos.

‘Form guard!’ bellowed Garios, lifting his blade as he turned to face the Intercessors following behind. To the left a renewed din of bolter rifles and engines announced the coincidental attack run from the outriders. The Bladeguard split, pushing outwards into the necrons trying to pull back from the gunship’s position, while into the gap pressed the Intercessors, firing to either side before they broke into a sprint over the last few yards.

The whole formation collapsed back to the gunship a few seconds later. The Intercessors firing over their heads, Nem­etus and his companions fell back to the side hatches. Ascending the boarding steps, Nem­etus looked out. The battlefield was littered with broken silver, a swathe of destruction nearly a hundred yards wide. Reconstruction swarms were milling about through the living metal debris, overwhelmed by the task at hand. A quick transponder survey showed that he had lost six warriors in the attack. Six battle-brothers that would serve the Chapter no longer. He felt an odd chill at the thought, glancing to his side at the relic bones of Captain Calistes. Of the battle-brothers that had given their lives to Orestes, nothing remained. There was no blue among the silver to recover and honour.

‘In our memories our lost brothers are honoured!’ he declared. ‘In our remembrances their glory is interred!’