Chiming more insistent than his threat indicators announced an incoming communication. Hester Aspertia Sigma-Sigma's mirrored visage imposed itself over his field of vision.

'Cawl,' she said. 'Nothing like battle, is there?' She was gloating. No doubt she could read his discomfort through her battle omnispex. He was subordinate to her, and no one that served Sigma-Sigma was beyond her oversight. He imagined his craven heartbeat racing across her own displays, and he attempted to quell his fear.

'The enemy have fallen back,' he said.

'The Ordo Reductor Taghma serving here is a fine one,' she said. 'But the war goes ill elsewhere. The Heptaligon stands, but the extraction station at Trisolian A-3 has already fallen. The enemy will be sending reinforcements from there.'

'What should I do?' he said.

'Attend to the fallen. Fight,' she said. 'I have much to deal with.' Her face vanished from his third eye.

The squeal of treads on metal grabbed his attention. Smoke curled around a fast-moving tank festooned with weaponry.

'Legionary Sicaran Destroyer tank, sector two!' Cawl vox blurted. He ducked as it opened fire.

The thallaxii were incapable of fear, and therefore evidenced a more heroic reaction than Cawl, They immediately returned fire Unlike the legionaries' battleplate, the tank's hide was proof against their weaponry. Earthing sparks fizzed from its hull. Plasma carved molten slashes into its glacis, but it accelerated towards the cyborgs, spewing laser beams.

A thallax at the far end of the line spouted magnesium-white fire from its blank faceplate. It fell to its knees and clanged to the floor face down, its organics reduced to greasy smoke. A second lost an arm to a las-beam. The limb spun through the air, and clattered off the wall behind where Cawl hid. He cringed at the noise.

'Armoured assault, sector two!' he shouted. He sent out a data burst and activated his locator beacon at full strength, not caring who might lock on to it.

The thallaxii parted to allow the tank through. It caught one a glancing blow on the leg as it passed, knocking the cyborg down. Stabbing fires flickered into the tank's weaker rear armour. It locked its tracks, skidding to a halt right by Cawl's hiding place. It bore the dark blue heraldry of the Night Lords, and was covered in chains dangling bones and bloody scraps that had recently adorned living bodies. The tracks spun in opposite directions, pivoting the tank on the spot to face the dwindling number of cyborg troops.

Cawl hunkered down, praying to the Omnissiah that he would not be detected. He came close to giving away his position with a joyous emission of data when a short, pointed message wrote itself across his internal displays.

<Help is at hand.>