He caught a blurred reflection in the burnished dome of the officer’s helm and leapt back. That one moment saved his life. A chainsword churned sparks from his pauldron. He turned, catching a glimpse of a warrior in yellow battleplate with a plough-fronted helm. He did not have a chance to react other than to bring the combat knife up to jam the cutting teeth of the chainsword as it ripped up towards his gut. With a scream of shearing metal, the blade ripped from his hand. Adamantine teeth sprayed out as the chain track unwound. The warrior in yellow did not even pause but punched the guard into Saduran’s faceplate. Saduran staggered, hit the barricade wall behind him and cannoned forwards, dipping his shoulder to hit the yellow warrior – but his foe was no new breed. This was a veteran son of Dorn, seasoned both in war and in killing former brothers. The warrior stepped back, lightning-flash fast, brought a pistol up, and fired.

Saduran fell backwards, pain exploding through him. A second shell exploded in the crater ripped by the first. Blood, black bone and shattered armour sprayed out. He fell, gasping, pain flooding his nerves and blood drowning his breath. The warrior in yellow had shifted his aim to pump shells into Saduran’s brothers as they came at the barricade. The human officer was moving towards Saduran, blade still ready. A ragged clutch of soldiers were at her back, firing. None of them were looking at Saduran. He was dead, a bag of meat in the shape of a legionary thrown aside by the tide of war. His world was a red-smeared blur.

The officer stepped close to him, put a foot on his ruined chest and brought the point of her sword to his neck. He drew a bloody breath as she tensed to ram the blade tip up under his chin. His hand flashed out. She tried to stab, but his hand was already around her wrist, gripping and crushing. Bones shattered, and he yanked her off her feet. He turned the blade in her hand, breaking fingers like twigs and sawed it into her neck.

He rose, roaring as the pain tried to pull him down. Blood and fragments of his blasted armour fell from him. The Imperial Fist turned, but too slow and too late. Saduran rammed the human officer’s powerblade up into the legionary’s gut.

He heard shouts and the shrieking boom of a melta charge blowing a hole in the barricade, but his world was red, and smelled of iron, and the sound of his hearts beating in his chest drowned out the rest.

Prison ship Aeacus, Uranus high orbit

Mersadie awoke and came to her feet as the cell flooded with red light. Sirens howled. The floor was shaking. Everything was shaking. Gunfire and ricochets echoed through the cell door. She took a step back.