Listening to Aeschelus and Praxa­medes, it was almost impossible to cling on to any thought of victory, but Nem­etus tried his best to assess his position objectively. Even as he listened, he fought, cutting down small knots of necron warriors with efficient bladework, keeping the next defence line intact for the time being.

Even so, the fight for the lifting station was not so much a battle as a slaughter. The expanse between the outer wall and the terminal buildings was a killing ground. Bands of silver-limbed monstrosities hunted down scattered troopers, the air crackling with emerald energy. Crescent-hulled fighters swooped from above, beams of jade energy scouring the outer reaches for those that had fled further afield. Afflicted by a resurgence of the soul-deadening, the militia troopers barely protected themselves, easy prey for the necron attackers striding through the breaches in the outer wall.

The lieutenant had drawn back the bulk of the defence to the terminal buildings, forming a corps of his Space Marines to counter-strike the swiftest enemy breakthroughs. Bolstered by their presence, nearby Oresteans formed a stiffer defence, but they were weakening with every passing minute, slowly succumbing to the mounting mental pressure Nem­etus could feel grinding his thoughts into dust. The lacklustre retreat in many places was overwhelmed by the approaching aliens, and it was hard to see how any of them, Ultramarines included, would survive more than thirty minutes.

He decided to keep that to himself; there was no point complaining about a situation that could not be changed.

‘What about down here? What is our objective?’

There was a long pause before Aeschelus replied.

‘Fight well and die with glory, brother,’ said the captain.

So that was how it was going to be. Nem­etus was almost pleased that he could resign himself to this fate. No gambits, no last-ditch efforts to thwart the odds. Just a last stand, killing as many enemies as possible. There was a simplicity that appealed.

‘Of course, you will not be there,’ Aeschelus continued. ‘This is my command and I will lead it.’

‘No, captain, that will not be necessary,’ said Nem­etus. ‘You need to take the ship.’

‘I concur, brother-captain. I will reinforce Nem­etus’ position.’

‘I am already on my way to the surface,’ the captain said, amused at the assertion. ‘The first time both of my lieutenants agree on something and I have to overrule you.’

‘No, captain!’ Praxa­medes sounded distraught.

‘I will brook no more insubordination, Prax.’

‘Then I must exchange commands with Lieutenant Nem­etus. We can all agree that his aptitudes are far more suited to this sort of daring escapade.’

‘You want me to run away instead of fighting for a glorious death?’ laughed Nem­etus. ‘I do not think so!’

‘And we are back to the debates,’ sighed Aeschelus.

‘I am serious, brother-captain,’ Praxa­medes continued. ‘I will bring down the shuttle that just docked. Lieutenant Nem­etus can ride the orbital elevator.’