A stunning combination of shock and horror crackled through Simut. The spear of energy from the planet’s surface appeared in the main display, diffracting slightly through the atmosphere so that a rainbow of colour struck the blackstone resonator. The defence laser was not powerful enough to harm the astromantic device but the beam deflected from the hard surface and sheared through one of the support ships.

The two neatly severed pieces of starship disconnected from the resonator and fell into the gravity well with balletic grace. The other vessel halted its inertialess engine immediately, but too late. Already the reso­nator was spinning into a decaying orbital ring. Within moments it was skimming the upper surface, flares of heat roiling along its sharp edges. Panicked demands pulsed through the tomb ship’s cortical field from other vessels, calling for emergency protocols to be enacted. For a few precious moments, Simut was overwhelmed, unable to correlate what was happening on the display with his vision of victory.

He eventually responded, affirming the rescue protocols, diverting processor authority to several lesser officers stationed through the fleet. A squadron of ships darted forward, gravity flails latching onto the departing resonator. The tomb ship sensed the pulse of hyperspatial engines digging deep for traction in the undersphere. Pulsed commands and responses flared between the four necron warships. The exchange resolved into comprehensible language inside Simut’s cortical interface.

Barque, Star of Natarun-4: Gravitic clutch increasing. Powering stabilisers to rear.

Barque, Star of Natarun-2: Insufficient dimensional grapple. Recalibrating.

Barque, Star of Natarun-1 [prime]: Balance required, stabilising efforts. Stop squabbling.

Barque, Star of Natarun-3: Secondary dimensional phase engaged. Motive traction enabled.

Barque, Star of Natarun-1 [prime]: All power to gravitic traction. Pull, you fools, pull harder.

Barque, Star of Natarun-2: Gravitic slippage critical, atmospheric interaction inevitable.

As both a falling spark and a stream of telemetry, Simut watched the attack barque burn up in the world’s atmosphere. As living metal shed in waves of silver lightning, a last flash of data soared along the cortical field and back to the tomb ship. The barque’s engrammatic presence settled into the resurrection core, awaiting the cryptek protocols to re-fashion its physical form.

The other ships managed to slow the descent of the blackstone reso­nator, aiding the lifter vessel with bursts of their gravitic impellers.

‘Fortunately it seems that the human’s defensive cannon is still recharging,’ reported Ah-hotep.

Simut was sure he detected some smugness from his subordinate, as if this wasn’t her failure too. In fact, had she pressed home the earlier attack the entire situation would have been avoided.

‘Your presence is no longer required,’ said the overlord. ‘The resistance to our plans will be eliminated.’

‘If you permit–’