One was General-Duke Hosul of the Orestes Household Guard: the grey-bearded man from the council meeting he had watched. The other was Magos Ortonov-Six, a barely humanoid confluence of articulated mechanical limbs, opaque bell jars and a red robe, topped by a large cowl that hid anything resembling a head or face. It was the ruling tech-priest that answered first, the words oddly sing-song in their cadence.

‘Xenos incursion. Energetic influence. Data corruption and manipulation. All expenditure necessary to repulse intrusion has been deployed. Massive dimensional weave detected on planetary surface. Energy footfall exponentially high.’

The captain understood barely a word of the explanation but knew enough that it was not positive. He turned to the ranking officer of the Orestean militia, answerable only to the Imperial commander. The man received a sheaf of autoprints from a mute functionary and reviewed them with a deepening frown.

‘Aided by the tech-priests, we have isolated the source of incursion to a demi-level somewhere in the dead sectors between the main sensor suite conduits and the artificial atmospheric regulators.’ He looked up, eyes widening slowly. ‘The xenos are aboard the palaces, captain! My troops have engaged them but you’ve seen the kinds of weapons they possess, the indestructible nature of the beasts’ bodies.’

‘Nothing is indestructible,’ growled Aeschelus. He shifted the weight of his shield and drew his sword. ‘My warriors will prove that shortly.’

He caught the eye of Lowensten, standing to one side with a small crowd of chattering attendants. The Imperial commander’s face was almost white, the blood drained from his features. He looked as dead as their enemies. He held up a hand and his functionaries ceased their overlapping protests and demands.

‘A massive force has also been teleported to the battle below.’ Lowensten’s voice was a croak, the words stuttered.

‘The necrons are not yet in orbit…’ argued an officer in the uniform of the Imperial Navy, standing close to the sensor monitoring station.

The look Lowensten gave Aeschelus carried similar disbelief, accentuated by no small amount of absolute horror. The captain was aware that the oppressiveness of the soul-deadening had returned, and it seemed to be having a profound effect on the ruler of Orestes.

‘A remarkable display of transubstantive technology,’ remarked Ortonov-Six. ‘Our scanners show that the ship in question is still approaching, but it has a much diminished energy wave.’

‘They’ve exhausted themselves with such a long-range teleport?’ ­suggested Aeschelus.

‘Only temporarily, our projections suggest. They are regaining power, every second, every minute.’

Aeschelus tried to separate conflicting streams of thought. The battle on the surface. The incoming fleet. The powered-down flagship. The invasion of the palaces and accompanying attack on the control network.

Priorities. Priorities.

‘Captain!’ blurted Ortonov-Six from within the shadows of the voluminous hood. ‘Reactor fluctuations. Xenos activity accelerated. Increasing scanning potential. Augur range has tripled.’

‘Our sensors have been improved?’ muttered Lowensten.