The magi recovered. Aspertia's dais jostled her colleagues out of the way, and drew her level with the stem of the ship. All over the orb interior, the assembled populace of Trisolian waited in fearful silence.

The ramp clanged down to the pad deck. Thick red light lit the ship's interior, defying any form of vision to see more than a metre within.

A lone figure clad in black came down the ramp. It broadcast an announcement of identity, Sota-Nul. Somehow, she looked different in the flesh. She halted at the base of the ramp, her face shrouded, saying nothing.

Aspertia willed her dais closer.

'I am Hester Aspertia Sigma-Sigma,' she said, simultaneously broadcasting her name, biography and rank via data squirt and binaric screech. 'Domina magos of the Trisolian forge world Taghmata.' Still no word was forthcoming from Sota-Nul.

Aspertia shifted.

'I offer the surrender of the forge world to the Warmaster Horus Lupercal in the name of the Fabricator General of Mars, Kelbor-Hal, and for the greater glory of the Machine-God.'

'You deposed your superiors?' said Sota-Nul.

The subtle pressure of an active scan swept over the delegation.

'I did,' said the domina. 'As military commander of this facility, I have assumed control, following the errors of the Viceroy Extractatorian in defying you, and will gladly pass possession of his person to the appropriate Mechanicum authorities to do with as they see fit. I humbly present myself and my forces for assignment in battle.'

Aspertia bowed her head. Her dozens of knees bent, lowering her into a strange form of curtsey.

Sota-Nul obviously approved. A data carrier wave sprang from her internal augmitters, announcing her thoroughly. In flesh speech she said,

'You have chosen wisely. On the Fabricator General's behalf, I accept your fealty.'

'And the Warmaster? He is here, isn't he?' Aspertia's machine voice warbled.

Sota-Nul inclined her head and stood aside, leaving the access ramp free.

'The Warmaster,' she said.

A group of armoured figures appeared suddenly in the ruddy interior, as if they had walked out of thick mist. They were universally savage, their armour hung with awful trophies. First out was a grinning warrior with a high topknot who swept the delegation with a challenging gaze. Three others came with him in a close group, then a Space Marine with halting gait and a serious mien. Their bare faces were pale and angry.

When they were arrayed at the ramp's edge the Warmaster came out.