Khalybus entered the chamber accompanied by two other legionaries. One was his sergeant, Raud. The other was a Raven Guard, Levannas. The Lion was struck by the choice Khalybus had made for his escort. The Iron Hands would not include the Raven Guard out of politeness. Relations between the two Legions had sometimes become heated on Macragge. They shared the trauma of Isstvan V, but the Iron Hands held the tactical decisions of Corvus Corax as being in part responsible for the death of Ferrus Manus. Levannas’ presence spoke to an unusual level of trust. The Lion wondered about the length and cost of the campaign that had forged this kind of a bond.

The appearance of the three legionaries suggested much. Their armour was as pitted and scarred as their ship. It was polished, and clearly treated with honour. But the means to repair it were lacking. The cost of the war was also in Khalybus’ face. By the faint hum of servo-motors, the Lion could identify the captain’s legs and right arm as bionic. That was no surprise. He had known Iron Hands who had even less flesh prior to Horus’ treachery. But Khalybus had lost more flesh recently, and it had not been replaced by the strength of metal. His head had suffered what looked like severe plasma burns. His hair and eyebrows were gone. His skull was mottled black and angry red. The flesh looked melted, and it shone as if varnished.

‘Captain Khalybus,’ the Lion said, ‘well met.’

Khalybus dipped his head forwards in respect. ‘Our thanks, Lord Jonson.’ His larynx was evidently still organic, though his vocal cords had been damaged. He spoke with a voice of stones rubbing against each other.

Levannas said, ‘The sight of the strength of your fleet revives our hopes.’

Khalybus grimaced slightly at the mention of hope.

‘What forces do you have?’ the Lion asked.

‘The Sthenelus is all we have left,’ Khalybus said.

‘We have been hunting the enemy since Isstvan V,’ said Levannas. ‘We have hurt the traitors. But over time…’

‘It has been years,’ Holguin said, impressed and sympathetic.

‘Does the Emperor yet live?’ Khalybus asked.

‘We believe so,’ said the Lion. ‘We are making for Terra.’

Khalybus cocked his head. ‘By way of Pandorax?’

‘The size of our fleet does not change the difficulties of navigating through the warp,’ the Lion said, his tone cold.

Khalybus seemed to realise he had spoken disrespectfully. ‘I had hoped your experience was different from ours,’ he said.

You’re right, the Lion thought. It was. He waved the question aside. ‘I misspoke. We seek the way to Terra. And what about the ­Sthenelus. Is Pandorax your hunting ground?’ It seemed unlikely. There were no warships in the wreckage outside the warp storm.