‘We need her. Even with a crew, we can’t control the ship’s systems without a tech-priest…’ He moved forwards, eyes on the smeared liquid. Mersadie heard cries from the lower level of the bridge as the refugees saw the slaughter. Nilus reached a section of wall lined with thick seams and rivets. A crack ran from floor to ceiling between two plates, like a door left just ajar. The smear of oil and blood vanished into the wall.

Nilus was looking at it, his skin somehow even paler than normal. He had stopped and was staring at the crack running down the wall. The sound of voices and footsteps was coming up the stairs to the platform. Nilus was backing away now. The ship shook, and Mersadie noticed that a fresh dribble of black fluid seeped out from the crack onto the floor.

‘Nilus,’ said Mersadie. ‘What is wrong?’ But the Navigator was backing away still, glancing at the other set of stairs leading down to the prow section of the bridge. He began to move towards them.

‘The shuttle is still there,’ he hissed, as though to himself. ‘I will make sure it’s still there. Yes, just in case…’

He made for the forward stairs, loping down them just as the first of the refugees came up the aft stairs. Mersadie was about to call after him, but he was already out of sight.

‘Everyone’s dead,’ said one of them. It was the big man who had come forwards first; Gade, he had said his name was. His eyes were wide, sweat sheening his skin. ‘Everyone…’

Mersadie looked back at the crack running down the wall. She stepped forwards, put her hand into the opening and pulled a section of the wall wide.

A figure lay coiled in the tangle of wires in the niche behind the hidden door. Motes of light and worms of static were running up and down some of the cables. Blood and oil matted the red robes of the figure, and trickled down through the knots of wires. Its hooded head twitched up, and the ship trembled again. Static breathed out through a hiss of noise that might have been speech.

Mersadie moved forwards, but the figure raised a brass hand, and now she could see that the cables ran into the mass of its body beneath the robes.

‘We…’ wheezed Chi-32-Beta. ‘We need to run. They are… Their ship… They are still out there.’

The Imperial Palace, Terra

The grey warrior came to the Regent on the fifth day of the dream riots. No guards or doors barred his passing. The lone sigil on his shoulder and the clearance codes transmitted by his armour let him move like a ghost through the Palace, unquestioned and unseen. Only when he reached the last door of the Regent’s sanctuary did a lowered guardian spear halt his progress.