The scout trio banked hard around a scattering of asteroids, using the stellar debris as cover while they came around the sides of their less mobile opponents. Jets flaring to stall their momentum, the human ships did their best to aim their weapons as they turned, coughing rockets and explosive shells at the speeding crescent-shaped necron vessels, the clouds of their detonation creating a sea of fire in the wake of the arcing craft.

Inertialess engines biting deep into the subsphere, the Jackal squadron turned sharply, bringing their lightning arcs to bear on the closest foe. Their manoeuvre caused ripples of distorted space-time that washed over the rest of the fleet. Stored stellar energy speared out as three crackling beams enveloped a void-castle like a spreading net of electricity, coruscating over a sudden glow of energy-shunting fields. Power relays deep within the target overloaded, hurling pieces of hull out into the vacuum as they exploded.

The Jackals swooped away in perfect formation as a larger enemy ship powered up behind the monitor ships, a spray of torpedoes burning from its eagle-beaked prow. The necron fleet was forced to part to allow the blazing missiles to pass harmlessly through them, Simut’s tomb ship among the half of the fleet forced to move further in-system.

‘Lord of the Stars, Eagle of Victory, I have a communication from Plasmancer Ah-hotep,’ announced Phetos from the lowest step. ‘She has analysed the enemy attack and wishes to propose a response.’

‘Inform the plasmancer that her advice is not needed,’ Simut replied, watching as the battle escalated in a bloom of detonations and the crossfire of lasers and lightning flares. ‘Our imminent victory is well in hand.’

‘As you command, my overlord.’

It took no intervention from Simut to steer the fleet in its manoeuvres against the increasing enemy numbers. Strategic minds that had advised the greatest kings had laid down the appropriate actions in ages past, down to specific squadron formations and attack patterns. Clouds of smaller craft streamed from the carrier vessels to intercept a fresh wave of torpedoes while the scout vessels of the necron fleet broke away, ­creating distance that allowed them to circle in behind the onrushing foe.

‘Plasmancer Ah-hotep respectfully requests an audience with your majesty, my lord,’ Phetos reported, interrupting Simut’s appreciation of the symmetry of war as it appeared in the main display. ‘She believes that the enemy are trying to delay us in preparation for some further attack.’

‘She is in error, my royal warden.’ Simut’s will scrolled the display across the fleet, moving through different scan arrays and sensory detection systems. ‘There are no hidden enemies within three orbits.’

‘She believes the preparations are on the target world, my lord,’ said Phetos. ‘I cannot give her argument fully. Perhaps she should deliver it in person?’

‘No. I have had enough of her interference.’

‘As you will it, my lord.’