‘You mean that there is something wrong with a plan that is executed as intended?’

Perturabo was silent for a long moment. The plan for the assault of the Solar System was many things, but chiefly it was the creation of Horus and Perturabo, bound with Magnus the Red’s semi-corporeal ghost of insight. It was a work of inhuman genius, a battle plan that existed not only in the four dimensions of time and space, but also in the realm of the warp. And Perturabo had been the architect of the opening moves. Even in abstract, to wield forces on the scale involved had taxed Forrix’s abilities, but the Lord of Iron had alloyed force and time and space into a strategy that would take the Khthonic and Elysian Gates in days. It was direct, incremental and irresistible: war as bloody art. But now, looking at the smooth fit between reality and theory, Forrix saw the flaw.

‘It should not be so clean,’ he said. ‘The defenders fight hard, and make us pay, but they do nothing that we have not anticipated.’

‘My brother,’ said Perturabo softly, his eyes still on the flow of data, ‘is many things, and his flaws were always hidden by the praise heaped on him. Call him steadfast, and that is merely a lacquer given to blunt unreason. Loyalty in him is merely a need to belong. Nobility is the gilding to base pride…’

Forrix held himself still. He had not heard Perturabo talk of Rogal Dorn directly in years.

‘But the one thing my brother is not, is a fool.’

Perturabo lapsed into silence. Forrix did not know what to say.

The Lord of Iron remained silent as the data of the battle danced on the black orbs of his eyes.

‘Continue as planned,’ he said at last. ‘Bring the lost sons through the gate.’

Freighter ship Antius, Uranus high orbit

‘Transmit again,’ said Vek. ‘Make it clear it is for the primary overseer.’

‘There is no response, sir,’ replied the signal officer. The woman glanced up at Vek and then down at her instruments.

‘Try again!’ snapped Vek, then caught himself and raised a placating hand. ‘Try again,’ he said, and turned away, running a hand over his face. He closed his eyes for a second, saw the bubbles of colour blossom briefly behind his eyelids. His hand was shaking. He should sleep, but for the love of all that was precious how would he be able to…?