Elsewhere the weapons took a greater toll, but it mattered not to the plasmancer. The warriors that were struck down did not perish, but were transmitted back to their tomb ship for reconstitution. Any momentary discomfort they experienced was negligible and acceptable. Their form-deaths absorbed a good proportion of the humans’ defens­ive strength, distracting them from the threat posed by the plasmancer.

Ah-hotep was almost within range of the first shield generator when she felt a tingle in the core of her cortical essence. It was contact from the tomb ship in orbit, but she ignored it. Summoning her biotek field, she started to extend her influence towards the human power source, the first fronds of her touch tasting its crude but enticing voltage.

The communication whisper became more insistent.

Ah-hotep paused and flexed a cortical array to align herself with the incoming signal. She sent a dismissive rebuttal and returned her attention to the citadel.

An instant later a paralysing spasm wracked her body as the overlord’s summon-missive scattered through her engrams. Ah-hotep had just enough time to whip her extended essence back into the shell of her artificial body before the summons took effect. Displacement seared through her living metal frame, turning it from matter to energy and back again, translocating her presence to the command hub of Simut’s warship. The experience lasted an instant but its after-effects were unpleasant, her senses spinning as she attempted to rectify the massive gravitational displacement that skewed her essence like a mortal suffering vertigo.

Lightwaves flooded into Ah-hotep’s single facial lens, bringing her the image of Overlord Simut. He was sat on the command throne, a loop of cortical cabling snaking over his shoulder and into a socket on the side of his chest, interfacing directly with the tomb ship. His expression was a mask, as always, but his cortical aura transmitted annoyance every bit as vehemently as the deepest scowl. Wisps of emerald power flickered along his vestments and leapt to the armour and blade that flanked the army commander. Phetos stood at the bottom of the dais.

‘That was… unnecessary,’ Ah-hotep said, cutting back the remarks she wanted to share, seeing instantly that Simut was in no mood for disobedience.

His power was limited – the plasmancer had been assigned to the matrix force by order of Szarekh himself and was backed by the shadowy authority of the technomandrites. Within an acceptable margin of error, she was certain that Simut could not have her disintegrated. Even so, he was even more unpleasant when vexed.

‘I was enacting your will, overlord, even as you reached out to me.’

‘Your excuses are inconsequential, plasmancer. King Szarekh demands results and so do I.’

‘The last vestiges of enemy resistance were about to be overcome, overlord.’ Ah-hotep thought better of trying to blame Simut for the earlier delays. ‘Your preparatory attacks perfectly seeded the field for my phalanxes to harvest.’