Then she was gone, pulling the children with her into the flashing lights of the corridor outside. Mersadie looked at the gun for a second, swaying as the sense of danger and threat poured through her. Then she hissed a curse, bent down, picked up the gun and ran after the bodyguard.

Vek was already running as the assault pod detonated its second charge. The jolt ran through the deck. Shouts swallowed the alarms. Some of the bridge crew were reaching for sidearms they had drawn from the Antius’ weapon locker. Vek had a lasgun. His hands fumbled on the arming stud as he went for the door off the bridge. Sweat poured from him. Breath sawed from his lungs. His bulk shook beneath his clothes. Someone might have called after him, but he did not hear or stop. All he could think of was the children. The children he had left two decks down. Close to the breach.

‘The Emperor protects.’ That was what Sadia, his wife, had said when she had first introduced him to the Temple of the Saviour Emperor. ‘He always has and He always will.’

He went down the spiral of stairs from the helm platform. He saw a guard, but the man turned and fled as Vek shouted at him.

‘But how can that be true when billions die?’ he had asked. ‘How can there be a war if He protects?’

His wife had shrugged.

‘If there were not the dark, and the chance of loss, what need would there be for Him to protect us?’

Another jolt shook the deck. The walls rang like a struck gong. He was panting, the sweat pouring into his eyes.

‘He protects, He protects…’ he panted, and echoed in his head. Please let Him protect them.

He reached the door of the bridge. There was shouting behind him, the machine burble of the tech-priest.

The doors blew apart in a spray of shrapnel. Vek was blasted backwards.

Something struck him in the gut. He tumbled. Air rushed from his lungs, and he was falling, dimly aware of his hands still clutching the lasgun. Another blow followed, to his ribs, as he collided with a support pillar and tumbled to the floor.

There were figures around him and above him. Armoured figures pouring through the opening. Red armour, domed helms with black slots for eyes, squat guns fuming static. Beams of light flashed out. Vek tried to rise, tried to move forwards, tried to bring the gun up…

‘You should trust more,’ Sadia had said.

None of his limbs would move. Nothing felt like anything.

‘That is the root of faith – not just belief but trust…’

The armoured figures moved up, firing with every step, swift but steady. Vek thought that the screaming was fading, but the world was soft and fuzzed and leaking red at the edge of his sight.

‘There is a plan, and He watches all of us…’