Oceanic Platform NX-18, 05:41 (MNT Time)

First Captain Yirryl twisted a disk-shaped flash grenade. The Ranger opposite him twisted his own flash. Execute.

The Ranger popped the door release and bowled the flash inside. Yirryl flicked his wrist and leaned away from the opening. White flashes cracked in the room. Yirryl raised his lasblaster and swung inside. At his shoulders, Rangers pushed in to an unlit room packed with rows of stacked beds. Yirryl's torchbeam passed over groaning humans with arms, legs, torsos, and heads swathed in dressings. Rangers shoved their weapons in faces and slammed humans tottering around on the floor. Yirryl reached down to the lowest bed in a stack and whipped a blanket away. Flies scattered from a loose dressing. Gangrene. Yirryl patted a holed jacket hanging from a peg. Weapons. Where are the weapons?

"First Captain!" A Ranger dragged a human in a white jacket over. "He is an officer." The Ranger hauled the coat down from the human's shoulders, exposing blue Ultramar fatigues. Three pips with red trim were pinned to the human's shoulder tabs. Yirryl gripped the human by the nape and forced him on to his knees.

Reveal what you hide. The human's grey head snapped back. His eyes rolled upwards.

Vosper, S. W., Chirurgeon-Colonel, Senior Medical Officer 712th Field Hospital, Ultramar Medical Institute.

Where is the Ultramar Council? Where are your rulers hiding?

"FIRST CAPTAIN!" Yirryl dropped the twitching human and charged at a Ranger named Vedrana bouncing on his heels in the open doorway. "Please, First Captain, she would not listen."

Yirryl thundered down a narrow stairway with Vedrana and jumped the last five steps. "Where?"

"Down here, First Captain." Vedrana leaped a twelve-foot gap between their walkway and one on the adjacent building. Waves crashed against the platform's supports below. "Please. She would not listen."

Shouts rang through corridors leading to a commons area. Yirryl let his lasblaster hang free and drew his laspistol. "Where, Vedrana?"

"Through here." Vedrana led Yirryl through a kitchen unit filled with unwashed plates and a commons room reeking of smoke. Posters of naked human women with exaggerated breasts were tacked to the walls and magazines littered worn couches.

"Keep your fucking hands up!" Izuru snarled from two rooms away. "If any being moves, we will kill you all."

"You cannot harm us, xenos, we are your prisoners. You must treat us fairly."

"They are moving!"

"What do we do?"

"Do not let them escape!"

Shots punched at Yirryl's heart and shouted in his ears. He flung himself in to a mess hall packed with wounded humans faced by Rangers firing lasblasters from less than ten feet away. Blood splattered the white wall. Humans collapsed atop each other. Yirryl barrelled at Izuru, at the centre of the firing line, and swung his laspistol in to her head. Vedrana rammed his own lasblaster in to another Ranger's gut.

"What in Vaul's name possesses you?" The firing died. Yirryl wrenched Izuru's lasblaster from her hands.

Blood crystals dribbled from Izuru's hair. "They are animals—"

"THEY ARE UNARMED!"

"They were trying to escape!" Izuru wobbled to her feet.

"You are not in a position to pass judgement on these men!" Yirryl rammed his palm in to Izuru's shoulder. "All of you, lower your weapons. NOW!"

The four other Rangers lowered their lasblasters. Three were young and pale-faced. The fourth bore scars stretching from his lips to his temples. "Taro, you of all should know better. Vedrana, take these five under arms. Surrender your weapons. Do it now!"

Izuru's head slumped. A few of the Rangers who had held their fire took away the five's weapons and bound their hands behind their backs and lined them up facing the wall.

"No. Turn around, look at what you have done. Healers, co-operate with the unwounded and ferry any who can walk upstairs to the field hospital." Izuru alone kept her back to the humans. Yirryl's fingers dug in to her neck and he said in her ear, "I dearly hoped I was wrong about you. Your fate belongs in the hands of the Gods now." Yirryl left Izuru facing the wall and picked Izuru's lasblaster up from the floor. "Leave any critical cases where they fell. Healers, do your best to stabilise. Work with the human healers. Do not ignore. How many dead have we?"

"Eleven dead, First Captain."

"Wounded?"

"Twenty-nine."

"Unscathed?"

"None."

Vaul's ashes! Yirryl clapped his hands at a few Rangers standing around doing nothing. "If no task is assigned, help the humans! Help. The. Humans!"

Rangers slung lasblasters and added to the number escorting the walking wounded out of the mess hall. "First we are a firing squad, now we are a mercy mission." Taro contorted his bound arms around his legs and stood up with his hands now in front.

"The five of you will be dealt with later." Yirryl's eyes stayed on Izuru the longest. She alone stood up straight, shoulders back and chin raised. "Vedrana, build decks with me."

Wind blasted rain in to Yirryl's eyes. His boots clanged on the iron steps far louder than normal. "I am sorry, First Captain, I am sorry."

"Fault lay not with you, Vedrana. You were entirely professional seeking out your superior and delivering the tidings." Yirryl ducked through an open hatch. "Disciplinary proceedings will be carried out at a later date. Worry not for the details yet though."

Rangers stood guard over the wounded crowding the field hospital. "First Captain." The Ranger by the doorway lowered his lasblaster. "This deck as well as the deck above house nought but the butcher's pail."

"Any weapons?"

"None, First Captain."

"Have you located the facility's commanding officer?" Yirryl brushed a fly from his chin.

The grey-haired human with the colonel's pips slumped on a chair away from other healers sitting in a group on the floor. Two Rangers holding scattershots flanked him. Binders held his wrists. "Is he cognisant?"

"He need not be, First Captain."

Yirryl snapped his fingers at the wrinkled human. "Nod if you understand, human." The human's head bobbed. "I know who you are and why you are here. Your field hospital hides more than gangrenous wounds beneath its dressings. Far beneath the waves, your government takes refuge."

"Wha…? I do not—I do not comprehend." Yirryl pierced the human's mental barrier and stalked through layer upon layer of memories. "Gargh!" The human fell from his chair. A dark stain spread over his crotch.

He does not know.

Why inform a mere healer of his caste's true purpose, First Captain? Tis one fewer tongue to run itself off.

"Fireteam, with me. Who built the most decks?"

"Mine, First Captain." A Ranger named Ilyas broke his scattershot and loaded a fresh cell.

"A Ranger experienced with human hardware also."

"First Captain."

"Rygho, build with us."

Yirryl, Rygho, Ilyas, and five Rangers stepped out in to the rain and climbed up to the next deck. "We cleared this deck, First Captain," Ilyas said. "Two more decks remain before the summit."

"First Captain?" Rygho wiped his nose.

"Ranger."

"I should mention I was witness to Ranger Numerial opening fire on a human sentry observing our landing. He did not fire on us first."

"Save for later, Rygho. Remove your safety." Yirryl followed Ilyas over to a sealed hatch and stacked up behind him.

"Locked."

"Rygho, charge."

Rygho, water dripping from the tip of his nose, fitted a wrapped-up charge to the junction box and flicked a switch on the detonator sticking out. "Set."

"Initiate."

"Initiating." Rygho slapped his palm. The charge thudded and the door slid upwards. Ilyas primed a flash grenade.

"No, no bangs."

"First Captain?" Ilyas's thumb caressed the primer.

"A gentler hand."

"We already gunned down unarmed prisoners!"

"Enough, Rygho! Hang back if you wish." Yirryl motioned with two fingers.

"Moving." Ilyas led his team inside. Yirryl brought up the rear and kept his muzzle pointed at the deck.

"Control room." Ilyas paused before a sealed door. "Where is Rygho?"

"Rygho! Blow it." Yirryl whisked Rygho to the front of the stacked team. Rygho fixed a micro-charge in place and retreated. Yirryl pressed a finger in his ear and twisted his head away. Sparks spat from the frazzled wiring. Ilyas slapped his point on the shoulder and bounded inside the control room.

"DOWN! STAY DOWN!" Humans in hard hats and coveralls dropped and placed their hands on their heads.

"Help! Help!" A human leaned over a bulging speaker. Ilyas thrust his lasblaster's butt in to the human's stomach and shoved him away from the panel and on to the deck.

"Where is the headman? The foreman?" Yirryl swept a hard hat from a human's head and pointed his laspistol at the human's eye. "You?"

"I—I—I am the plant manager." A human in a bright orange vest lifted his head. "We—we heard you downstairs. Please stop firing. We are a drilling facility. No weapons."

"Those missile tubes on the roof. False constructs?" Ilyas pulled the manager's hard hat off and threw it away. "Answer the first captain!"

"We are Ultramar Workers' Union. We would not know the first thing about operating a missile battery."

"Are they loaded?" Yirryl leaned over the facility's main control panel. "Rygho, find me comms with our corvette."

"First Captain."

"I—I would not know."

"Would not know or do not know?" Yirryl popped a knife free from a sheath attached to his shoulder.

"Do not know. Do not know."

"Would you know of any very important persons who may or may not be hiding here?"

"First Captain, I have access to the humans' central cogitator."

"No. I—I would not know of—"

"Would not know. Would not know. You keep using those words." Yirryl's knife sprang free from the grip. "Say it again."

"No-no-no. No important people here. We drill the seabed. That is all."

"No odd influx of personnel unfamiliar with mining, no strange visits, no nondisclosure forms to sign?"

"No. We are of no value to Ultramar. We are mere workers—union men."

Rygho, secondary task.

First Captain?

Locate any record detailing the arrival of personnel or supplies in bulk. Any hardware or provisions arriving within the last six weeks.

"Yes, First Captain. I have Lorthoir."

"Where do I speak?"

"With these." Rygho handed Yirryl a pair of headphones attached to a coiled cable.

"Spectre, do you receive?"

"Luminous. Ashen Pit also."

"Clarify their meaning."

"We…" Yirryl glanced at the listening humans then dropped his Gothic. "The Prophet's knowledge sent us on a spiralling path to nothingness."

"First Captain, I have no—"

"No Gothic!"

"First Captain, I can find no record of any surplus provisions or hardware added to inventory over the past thirteen months. Inventory stock is only for the fifty-nine union members staffing this platform for their six-month tenure."

"Lorthoir, no record of the Ultramar council's presence exists on this platform. The Prophet sent us here for nought."

"State yours and the enemy's casualties."

"Ranger casualties are one wounded. Human are… unknown at this time. I have yet to consolidate with my team leaders."

Lorthoir said, "Shenae are, at present, returning to Lorthoir to refuel. You will be without support for three hours minimum."

"Relay tidings to the Prophet, please."

"The Prophet is out of communication with us. We dare not risk broadcasting openly to the AdMech's ship lest it invite attention."

"I understand, Lorthoir. I am standing in the platform's central control room. The humans assure me there are no operational weapons aboard. No guards. Nothing that might constitute a threat to our operation, which… I have decided to terminate for my Rangers' safety. Please place on record."

"Apologies for the ashen pit, First Captain. We will send word of the Shenae once they have returned and refuelled."

"Gratitude, Lorthoir. Please provide a Shenae with lift gear for our wounded also."

"We will see it done. Keep your blades sharp and your eyes keen, Spectre."

"Likewise, Lorthoir. Out." Yirryl levered the headphones off. Eyes, human and Ranger, watched him. "Three of you remain here on communications. Bring the humans down and keep them with the others."

"How long do we wait, First Captain?"

"When will the ships return?"

"Two hours, Spectres. Two hours." Yirryl swept from the control room. In three hours, my tenure as first captain ends forever.

Magna Macragge Civitas

"Evac Command, Evac Command, this is Evac Dispatch. I have multiple commercial craft loaded with civilians. Our engines are running hot and I have mortars falling on our evac zone. Are we cleared to depart?"

"Evac Dispatch, this is Evac Transport 2213. Artillery is chewing up the evac site. I have seven-hundred souls aboard; families and wounded. I have to go now!"

"Evac Command, Dispatch. Requesting you divert any U-Force air assets to cover the Memorial Gardens. I have four evac callsigns; engines running hot."

"Dispatch, Command. Wait one. Ultramarine Frigate Penitence, requesting immediate airstrike on enemy mortar platoon engaging Memorial Garden evac site. Grids to follow."

"Magna Macragge Civitas Evacuation Command, this is Penitence. Thunderhawks are unavailable at this time. The Emperor Protects."

"Dispatch, 2213. I have got to go now! These people cannot wait any longer."

"Evac 2213, you have no cover. Hold your station. I cannot cover you."

"2213 is airborne. We are airborne."

"2213, return to berth! You have no cover."

"Dispatch, 2213. We just lost the port engines. Stabilisers are gone. We are going down. We are going down. We are going—"

A violent jolt shook the bed Yvraine lay on. She snapped upright and clapped her hand to her chest.

"I heard them too." Sylandri Veilwalker leaned against the edge of the window with her fingers between the blinds. "Seven-hundred voices; all silenced."

"Human voices." Yvraine's hand shot up to her hair and closed around the space where her fan had been pinned. "Laari?"

"In the adjacent room. Rude to observe a lady's slumber."

"Harlequins notwithstanding, I see." Yvraine fed her feet in to her boots and fastened them. "What is the time?"

The Veilwalker let go of the blinds. "What is that curious human term. O'clock. Of the clock?"

"Meaningless." Yvraine tucked loosed strands behind her ears. "Well?"

"When the little hand is on the…"

"Though your uses are many…" Yvraine pushed down on the lid of a compartment in the bedside table. A chrono attached to the inside unfolded. "…Humour is not one of them. Eleven-twelve. Twelve minutes past eleven."

Our kin in Cameleoline stray long past their deadline. The Visarch, unmasked, filled the unsealed door.

"Irrelevant. Their tidings must reach their corvette, who must pass it to the AdMech, who will hopefully see fit to pass to me." Yvraine sat back down and wrapped her hands around a knee. "That knowledge is best hidden for now."

"Only to surfacing once we are taken," muttered the Veilwalker.

"If we are taken. How rare it is when the human observes basic niceties towards the hated xenos. If they wanted hostages, they would have taken us already."

Lady Prophet, the human finds our floor.

"Show him in." Yvraine stood up and buttoned her surcoat.

"Willing to play nice?"

"That is human nomenclature, Veilwalker." Yvraine straightened out the creases in her breeches. The blinds parted before her fingers. Thick smoke curled past the window. "I do hope you were not tainted too."

"I prefer to think of it as enlightened, Lady Prophet. Our bodices cannot remain laced forever." The Veilwalker's thumb wiggled the topmost lace holding her bodysuit together at her throat.

"Stay your quivering hand, Harlequin. Had I the dance on my mind, I would have summoned courtesans."

"Hm-hm, you would know all about courtesans, wouldn't you?"

"Lady Xenos, does your bodyguard speak?" The Ultramar major puffed cigar smoke in to the Visarch's face.

"He has taken a vow of silence, Major." Yvraine left the window and touched the Visarch's elbow. "Admit the major, Visarch."

"Wasn't like you needed to talk aloud to get the message across. People like you."

"And what sort of people would we be, Major?"

"Downstairs, please. The Archmagos is waiting." The human dropped his cigar stub in a chute in the wall. An orange glow rose inside.

Human eyes latched on the party on the way down to the ground floor. The glass in the ceiling high above rattled. The steps beneath Yvraine's feet vibrated. "The explosion just now…"

"Commercial transport. They're ferrying the non-combatants off-world through the Memorial Gardens. Once they're off the ground, they're no longer our problem, Lady Xenos."

"Major, sir?" An Auxilia flitted over to the major with a dataslate in his hands. "H Company just got back from Castle AdMech, sir. Ninety per cent casualties and—"

"No, no." The major waved the Auxilia aside. The Auxilia's balaclava sucked in at the sight of Yvraine, the Veilwalker, and the Visarch. Blue tents filled the atrium. Officers congregated around a holographic map of the city inside a tent broader than the others. Large vox sets perched on foldout tables. Operators tapped out information on their dataslates and handed them back to runners.

"Major, come inside." A colonel held a tent flap up. "Leave that lot outside."

"Sir, I have orders to—"

"Come inside." The colonel ducked inside the tent.

"None of you move from this position or you'll be shot. No eye contact with anybody." The major trotted past two sentries and entered the tent.

"They have brought down the walls of the Castle of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Major. Marine Scout Snipers covering Via Laponis have confirmed this."

Don't move? We are in the middle of the floor.

Hush! I am listening. Yvraine shifted slightly in the direction of the tent.

"Scout Snipers also report the enemy is inside the artillery and rolling armour in from the west unopposed along VL. I need fireteams equipped for anti-armour duty placed in buildings along VL. Thermobarics, FGMs, any man-portable AT you can find; get it there. That sector is a free-fire zone."

"Gang way! Gang way, there!" Repulsor sledges carrying wounded humans manoeuvred through the bagged entrance. "Wounded here! Where is the receiving station?"

Give them space. Yvraine's party moved out of the path of the incoming sledges.

"Move, move, move, move, move." Humans rushed the sledges past the Ynnari.

"Away with you!" An Auxilia sentry pushed the body of his lasgun at Yvraine. "Away!"

"Peace, human. We are diplomats." The Veilwalker raised her hands. "No weapons. No intent."

"Captain!" The major stepped out of the tent. "Where is Captain Bexson, Guardsman?"

"Sir, Captain Bexson just came in with the wounded, sir."

"Walked in himself?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good man." The major weaved through the long line of sledges still coming in. "You three, stay put!"

Heartwarming to know our mission is being treated seriously.

Mission—what mission is that exactly, Veilwalker?

Below ground lie all the answers, Lady Prophet.

Thank Ynnead you will not be the one to give them.

I? I owe it all the Archmagos. Ten-thousand years of toil—

So you say, Veilwalker.

I do say.

Respect to you. The Visarch's eyes followed the passing sledges. His mask remained upstairs. And before you say it, I have always respected the lesser species' resilience. For a race blessed with nought, their record stands far and above ours for sheer tenacity. Call it verbal fellatio if you wish, Yvraine. We were fools to wait this long before extending our hand.

Yvraine's ears coloured. Do you want to know exactly what I think of them?

"Major, thank you for joining us." The Veilwalker shot Yvraine and the Visarch a look. Yvraine's eyes locked with the Veilwalker's eye slits and she lowered her head.

"You moved from where I left you…"

"Making way for wounded warriors, Major," said the Veilwalker. "We had no choice."

"Did you look at anybody?"

"No, Major."

The major's fingers curled around the flap of a pistol holster. "Then follow."

"How bad is it out there, Major?" The Veilwalker said. The major led them beneath the atrium's glass floor and down a smooth slope towards a set of cargo lifts.

"Bad? No-one out there believes the situation bad, for your information, Lady Xenos." The major flipped a plastic cover from a round button and slapped it. "The Emperor protects the devout."

A roar shook the walls. A rumbling spread through the floor and rode up Yvraine's legs, jarring her teeth and numbing her ears. I know that sound. The Veilwalker tightened her scarf.

What? Iron grating parted before a cargo lift. An orange bulb on the wall spun inside a clear housing, throwing light over the party.

Macro cannon. That can only be FPF.

FPF?

Final Protective Fire. The last step before all hope is lost.

The grate clanged together and the lift ground downwards. Spiked cogs spun on chunky rails. Promethium fumes stole inside Yvraine's nostrils and stung her eyes. Sparks flew from cutters and hammers clanged. Abominations lugged fuel cells on their shoulders and hauled equipment heavier than a human could bear through a motor pool. Wheeled and tracked warmachines sat in bays with parts lined up around them. AdMech, many arms sprouting from the lumps in their robes, co-operated with human workers on top of the vehicles and in trenches beneath the chassis.

Yvraine stepped around a puddle tinged with purple. The major splashed through it. His heavy boots flicked the promethium up the red leather of Yvraine's boots. Trapped where the rats dwell…

Come, Lady Prophet, this haven wanes in unpleasantness compared to the Dark City.

What! How dare you speak to me of the Dark City. You know nothing of the Dark City. You have never set foot in the Dark City!

The Visarch swung between Yvraine and the Veilwalker. Moderation, I believe is required here. We need not provide the humans with any further ammunition to expel or imprison us. Kindly divest any prejudice you might bear and wear your politician's masks—both of you.

Talk not of masks to me, Laari. Where is yours?

Left at the wayside, hand in hand with deceit.

"Lady Xenos?" The major indicated the twenty-foot-tall bulk of the Archmagos on the far side of a bay housing a tank. Steel track links lay on the floor. A human in a grey boilersuit twisted a wrench from side to side and wiggled a thick pin out.

"Far from the strangest happening the common human has seen this day." The Veilwalker lifted her foot and stepped over the tracks.

"Veilwalker!" The Archmagos butted the base of his halberd upon the floor. "And her guests!"

Her guests?

Smile. The Visarch seized Yvraine's wrist. Do not rise to it.

Damn it, Laari. Yvraine hastened around the tank. "Archmagos, I do apologise for keeping you waiting."

"Apology can only be granted by myself, Lady Ygraine, for forcing you to descend to depths hitherto unsavoury to a being of your splendour." The Archmagos's claws clacked and his segmented body twisted. AdMech fled from his wide turning circle. "Please, observe now this holo-communicator. The Lord Macragge has granted us a moment of his time."

Who is the Lord Macragge?

I know neither his name nor the name of his master, Yvraine.

Thick cables ran across the floor to a circular, waist-high construct. Red-robed AdMech lodged snaking appendages inside ports around the construct's rim. Green eye-lenses shone in blue light resonating from the communicator's projector.

Should I state our case, or would you rather lock horns with this human? The Veilwalker's mask edged in to the corner of Yvraine's eye.

Were he foe, Harlequin, I would face him bereft of mask. Look to the Visarch. He sets example for us all.

Comfortable with the fumes caressing your cheek, Visarch?

It is my privilege to stand beside my mistress free of mask and with noble intent. It is your privilege also to stand beside the Herald of Ynnead.

Blue light formed a broad-shouldered figure swallowed in thick power armour. Polished aquilae and crimson braid covered his shoulder pauldrons and breastplate. An implant with a circular lense was embedded in his right eye. Two fists rested on knees spread wide. Leather straps marked with the Ultima glyph hung between the giant's legs.

"No…" The Lord Macragge's gauntlet tightened around his knee. "No, not on MY PLANET!" Eight feet of Ultramarine towered over the Ynnari and AdMech. "HELLFIRE BANISH THE WICKED AND PURGE THE XENOS FROM MY DOMAIN!"

"Salutations, Lord Macragge." The Veilwalker curtsied. "We are emissaries of the Ynnari. By my side is the Lady Yvraine, Herald of the God Ynnead, Daughter of Shades, Wielder of the Cronesword Kha-vir."

"Soon to be delivered in caskets back to your Craftworlds, xenos!" The Lord Macragge clenched a fist and swung it sideways.

"My Lord Macragge. Familiar are you with my affairs—"

"Freak affairs, Archmagos, and soon to be stripped of titles and rights."

"Grrr…" The Archmagos rapped his halberd on the floor.

"Lord Macragge." Yvraine and the Visarch bowed. "We answer to no council. We are nomads sailing free of their constraints. Ours is a united cause—"

"The complete eradication of the lesser species."

"A united cause to save both our species from our fates. Long have we abstained from extending our hand, and long has it been to our detriment—"

"Speak candidly, xenos! I am in a fight. You do not descend un-invited upon my planet and preach the benefits of our races uniting at this critical hour. If you are so driven to broker truce, why did you let Cadia fall?"

The Veilwalker stepped forwards. "Lord Macragge, we are here to—"

"SPEAK YOUR PURPOSE, XENOS!" Veins bulged in the Lord Macragge's grey temples. "The lord's patience wanes."

"Resurrection."

The Lord Macragge stooped and sat upon his throne. "Persecution, the only fate befitting a xenos."

"Archmagos, now is the time," said the Veilwalker.

"Time? Your time freeloading in the Imperium of Man ends with you bathed in holy fire. Your spouses, siblings, all your children purged by our guns, our swords, our fury!"

"Lord Macragge!" The Archmagos tapped his halberd upon the floor thrice. "A gift. One ten-thousand years in the making." Four abominations pushed a hover-sledge between the Archmagos and the Ynnari. A ten-foot-long storage container sat atop it. "Ten-thousand years have these joints toiled under orders. Ten-thousand years' struggle comes to fruition. Observe my magnum opus."

Steam shot from the container. Seals parted and hatches opened. Yvraine's eyes shifted to the container's contents; a suit of gilded armour no different from those the Ultramarines wore, only with gold engravings. All this secrecy for that?

"Your ocular regards a Mark Thirteen Artificer Class suit of powered armour, my lord. Its construction ordered by the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion himself."

The Lord Macragge's fist crashed upon the arm of his throne. "So fell Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl, Dominatus Dominus, to heresy."

"Every day our judgement comes closer. Our time is spent toiling over the sacred tasks our betters entrust us with. We fall – not if – but when, and I fell so many times it broke the organic within this armour, and now all that remains is the code my progenitor granted me. Belisarius Cawl is gone. This husk is a frail offshoot bloated with scrapcode—a shadow of the great man's shadow. You can never know Belisarius Cawl. But by his sacrifices, he will be remembered as a vessel of deliverance bearing the armour of mankind's saviour. With AdMech tech and Ynnari sorcery, we shall deliver sunrise to the Imperium, with or without your blessing, Lord Macragge."

For a long time, the Lord Macragge met the Archmagos's many eyes. "You remain where you stand. You will await my Chief Librarian. Deviate and you will be prosecuted severely. The Lord Macragge has spoken."

The Lord Macragge's image faded and the AdMech powered the communicator down. "Damned anti-intellectual primates," said the Archmagos. "Luddites."

"All this for a suit of fancy armour, Veilwalker?" Yvraine bent over the container and laid her hand upon a vambrace. Each piece was housed in a separate cut-out of rigid foam. The suit's belt buckle bore the Imperial numerals XIII. The gold engravings were shaped almost like leaves, the way they twisted and curled across the shins, the breastplate, and the shoulders. "Archmagos, the Primarchs fell from folklore to mere myths whispered of in the shadows. You spoke as if the very being had commissioned you personally."

"But he did, young lioness." A coiled appendage protruded from the Archmagos's hip. Its claws were clamped around a long, curved blade. "The Veilwalker tells me you and your sword possess extraordinary abilities."

"Kha-vir! Where did you find that?"

"I stole it." The Veilwalker brushed dust from the hem of her sleeve. "The same blade that granted life anew to our young acquaintance; the Ranger."

"Lay that being's name to ash, Veilwalker! I will not have you speak of her."

"Think of her as an experiment. A trial-and-error process—"

"T'was not the piercing of the flesh but the touch of the deity that warmed her corpse, Veilwalker!"

The Veilwalker's fingers heaved the right shoulder pauldron out and turned it towards Yvraine. Black, swirling letters were inscribed on a white plate. "This is who they fear."

"G-U-I… I cannot pronounce that name."

"Names are for obituaries, Lady Shades. This a symbol. An ideal. And while bodies can be broken, a symbol can never be extinguished. We hold the tinder. You hold the flint." The Veilwalker's mask stretched around her mouth. "Next comes the spark."

Oceanic Platform NX-18, 09:20 (MNT Time)

Eleven pairs of feet poked out of a heavy groundsheet. Raindrops slid between the covered bodies on the main platform's landing pad and made pools. First Captain Yirryl held eleven nametags in his fist. Eleven widows, parents without sons, children without fathers. This was not the way of the Ranger.

"First Captain? There were others."

Rangers and humans carried six stretcher-bound on to the landing pad and set them down in a row. Yirryl squeezed the nametags. "Where were they found?"

"The first five on the fifth deck, north-east corner of the main platform. The sixth on the fourth deck, north-west corner of the main platform. All killed with a lasblaster bar one."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Salazar." Yirryl paced behind the stretcher-bound. Gaping cavities glistened in the upper torsos of five of the six humans where the immense heat of the projectile had reacted with the liquids filling the bodies. The last has dried blood in his hair and on his ear and neck.

"Blunt force trauma. He was beaten to death, First Captain."

"Cover them up," Yirryl said in Gothic. His Rangers hovered there. "Find a tarpaulin and cover them up!"

The few human miners had retreated from the Rangers. Some held their hard hats at their breasts and hung their heads. One human buried his head in another's shoulder. The other human rubbed his back and spoke in his ear.

"This was not our intent, human. I apologise for our conduct," Yirryl said.

"We don't want your apology. We want our father back!"

"Identify not with the human, brother." Salazar laid his arm around Yirryl's shoulders. "No apology will satisfy petty hate."

"At our hands, their father lies beneath that tarpaulin. Rangers do not target non-combatants, Salazar! Our terror-tactics are saved for armed aggressors—beings threatening our homes, our livelihood." Yirryl guided Salazar out of the rain and inside an empty office overlooking the landing platform.

"I held council with a few of the brothers and sisters just now, Sol." Salazar swung a wheeled chair around, perched on it, and planted his feet on a desk. "And for the honour of our caste, we feel that the sword should fall on her."

"Her? Do not flout Ranger tenet, Salazar. Decision by committee spits venom on our way. Honour, loyalty to one's comrades—"

"There was no honour here, and no honour in allowing your niece on our deployment, Sol, just nepotism."

"Do you challenge my authority as first captain?"

"That is my honest opinion. But do you know who I think is at even greater fault, First Captain? The Prophet herself. I believe, quite fervently, she sent us here on purpose."

"You do not—"

"On purpose to—"

"—You do not know the inner workings of this necromancer, Salazar! We carried out our orders in a professional manner—as all warriors should. If the finger of blame turns on us, it falls to the first captain to decide upon judgement. I decide, not the Prophet, or any committee you make."

"Will our honour be cleared?"

"I decide on who falls before legal measures."

"Your niece executed six humans, and ordered the shooting of thirty more! If she falls, she will not bring the company down with her."

"Were you there? Did you see it personally?"

"Others were witness. If they all testify against her, including you, First Captain, our honour may still be saved. The actions of one renegade cannot compromise our brotherhood. Just let her fall." Yirryl dove at Salazar and balled his fist. Glass crunched inwards and sparks shot from a cogitator. Salazar opened his eyes and winced. "Smoke on the landing pad."

Glass fragments fell from Yirryl's gloved hand and clattered on a keyboard. Green smoke curled from a pair of markers lying on the northern edge of the landing pad. "Have Lyzaro brought up here. He goes home first."

Shenae sat on their claws on three corners of the landing pad with their engines humming. Rangers rushed the stretcher-bound Lyzaro outside and over to a Shenae. "I am not going home until you do!" A brace around Lyzaro's neck constricted his head and straps held his body down. "Do not send me away!"

"Go with grace, Captain. Brenya led well." Yirryl lifted his end of the stretcher and slid it on to a shelf in the Shenae's underbelly. The Ranger behind pushed his end inside. "Your team is in good hands."

"I can stand! Let me out!"

Yirryl uncapped an injector and plugged it in to Lyzaro's shoulder. "When you awaken, it will be in fair company, Lyzaro."

"You are my company!" Lyzaro's body trembled. "Do not dishonour me!"

Yirryl stepped back from the compartment and raised a hand and spun his wrist. The pilot nodded and touched the brim of his visor. The three Shenae rose from the deck. Wind blasted the tarpaulin from the human bodies. Yirryl crouched and held his hood up. "COVER THOSE—"

A human seized a corner and hunched over it. A Ranger pressed his knee on another corner until the wind died down. Low cloud enveloped the climbing Shenae, leaving only the crashing of the waves upon the struts.

Sixty Rangers crowded the plant manager's office. Some found chairs, others stood or perched on desks. One hour had passed since the Shenae had departed. First Captain Yirryl stood behind the manager's desk. His lasblaster lay on it at his fingertips. "The sight of you, brothers and sisters, brings a smile to my face and a tingle to the leg those bone-breakers jammed on the stump I brought back from Salusa Secundus so many cycles ago. You have all heard it, and I see you sigh now with indifference. Our far-flung cause has been undermined by those that wish to rinse us dry and discard without second thought. You, the comrade at your shoulder, and every brother and sister carried out your orders readily, and with eagerness to see objective achieved. Blame no-one in this happy company for the crossing of the line this morning. Those accusatory glances, the whispers, the eyes of blame shall fall on I and I alone."

"What becomes of the humans, First Captain?"

"Their names, their place and time of death have been recorded. The Ultramar Workers Union will be informed. They will direct this down the legal path, but you have my word, none of you will be required to set foot in a human court of law, though statements will still be needed. Your anonymity will be guaranteed."

"First Captain, we have done nothing wrong."

"You have not. Blame falls upon my shoulders, and mine alone. None of you will be prosecuted. On that, you have my solemn word."

"The Prophet lied to us. She used us!"

"Ignorance on the Prophet's behalf flung us along this path to nowhere. There was no malice in it, my brothers and sisters. Had she been taken hostage; we were her contingency. We would have infiltrated the human council's place of hiding, taken them under arms, and traded them for her."

"Was this venture unnecessary, First Captain?"

"None of you need worry on that. I will protect each and every one of you from prosecution. One Ranger. One Rifle."

"One, one, one," the Rangers chorused. They began to file out in groups. Twos and threes remained in discussion, until only one Ranger remained. Yirryl fell in to the chair behind the desk and spread his hands across the cold surface.

"I hoped their cold eyes would instil within a gratification I had not felt since my first confirmed kill. I no longer hear their hearts, and it only deepens the void within me, Uncle."

"Let no guilt drag your heart down, Niece-of-mine. This was folly, and the Prophet will answer for travestying our happy company."

Loose hair had sprung from Izuru's bun and stuck out wildly. Thin strands clung to her cheeks also. Sweat shone on her brow. "I request honourable discharge by your sword, Uncle."

"The coward's path!" Yirryl kicked the chair back. "You redeemed yourself through your second Initiation, now raise your chin, close your mouth, and accept the judgement dealt by your betters."

Izuru's head fell. "I lost control. I became hatred."

Yirryl swept around the desk and pulled Izuru in to his embrace. "Forgive me. I set you on this path of wrongness. Fault was mine."

Izuru's nose squished against Yirryl's shoulder. "Death spoke from my muzzle, not yours."

"The failings of the company lie not with the follower, but the helmsman. I can only ask myself how I steered our company with such woeful ineptitude. If swords are drawn in these coming cycles, I must fall for you and all our brothers and sisters."

"No! You cannot fall for us—for my mistakes!"

"My fall will be harder than most. Of that, I have no doubt. If I let you fall as scapegoat, your father's spirit will terrorise these withered bones for the rest of my wretched life, and I would live in the knowledge that I condemned you to a fate worse than death. I see no hate in those eyes, only despair."

"Do not leave me, Uncle. I have nothing to my name. Nobody to confide in. Let me fall."

"I made a promise, young Ranger." Yirryl held Izuru's shoulders. "Even in death, Amonther guides me, and through me, you."

Magna Macragge Civitas, 00:38 (MMC Time)

Rise, Yvraine. The Lord Macragge's man is here.

Yvraine's head rested on the edge of an AdMech storage container. A tent roof sagged above her. So soon, Laari? Yvraine cracked her neck and massaged the base of her spine. The Visarch sat on a crate facing the mouth of the tent. How long was I asleep?

An hour. Those crates cannot have been kind to your spine.

I have slept on worse beds, and in even poorer company.

Ha! I will not forsake my vow so easily.

Yvraine raised her arms above her head and bent backwards. The Veilwalker?

Slunk off to whisper sweet nothings in the Archmagos's ear, I shall warrant. The Visarch nudged the crate away from the tent opening. Had he any organic ears remaining…

Thuds approached the tent. The Visarch positioned his body between Yvraine and the opening. Never one for subtleties, were they?

"Do you speak the Emperor's, xenos?"

"The Visarch has taken a vow of silence, human." Yvraine ducked around the Visarch's shoulder. An Ultramarine gripped a twelve-foot-tall staff tipped with the Ultima glyph and a horned skull. An implant covered his entire head, leaving only his face bare. Frayed robes were bound at his waist by a belt with a skull-shaped clasp. "Address me, the Prophet of Ynnead."

"Then come, xenos." The Astartes wheeled and clomped away through the motor pool. "Without delay."

"Ohh…" Yvraine's nostrils flared and she took off after the Astartes. "I said that I am the Prophet of Ynnead, human. Might I know your name?"

"My name?" Lightning crackled on the tip of the Astartes' staff. His eyes glowed bright white. "My name is Ultramarine. Your name is xenos."

"Might I know the name of one so blessed by the Warp? Race notwithstanding, I admire a fellow psyker. You make mind your weapon, not fist."

"So, pillow-talk matters more to you xenos than your commission. What devilry drove the Adeptus Mechanicus and your sorcerers to tryst?"

"That is one for the Archmagos to answer, Ultramarine."

"The Archmagos has preceded us. He awaits you."

"Where, may I ask?"

Iron grating parted and the Astartes boarded the cargo lift. He said nothing more on the way up to ground level. Auxilia gave him a wide berth, wider than they had the Ynnari.

Late for a private rally, are we? The Veilwalker appeared at Yvraine's shoulder.

Pantheon ablaze! You are a light-footed one, Harlequin.

Light-fingered too, the Visarch said.

Quite the weapon the Astartes carries. All that armour and those big bolters must surely be making up for deficiency elsewhere.

"Watch yourself out there, sir," an Auxilia officer at the atrium barricade said. "Everything from here up to the Avenue of Heroes, all the way to Hera's Gate is now a free-fire zone. Be aware, there are suiciders occupying the overpasses near tunnel entrances and exits. They drop down on our convoys."

"Are the mag-lines still running, Lieutenant?"

"We've heard nothing on the three-fifty of the lines being brought down, sir. The trains might be running. It'll be a safer bet than using the roads."

"I see."

"My advice; try Granite Forum Station."

"Taken. Emperor watch over you and your men, Lieutenant."

"Likewise, sir."

"You three, follow me." The Astartes led the Ynnari through the barricade. Rain pelted five armoured vehicles lined up in the street outside the office block. Helmeted Astartes manned open turrets fitted with bolters. Those dismounted held a perimeter around the column. Orange tinged the night sky. Pillars of smoke and fire rose from the skyscrapers. The hard road surface shook beneath Yvraine's feet.

"Inside. Mind your heads." Ultramarines boarded the armoured carrier behind the Ynnari. Red bulbs blinked on inside the troop compartment once the rear hatch had closed. Engines growled and tracks spun.

I have a sinking feeling that we are treading over old ground.

Wise was the Ultramarine in heeding the human's advice, Yvraine.

You speak as if the Astartes and the humans are different, Laari. They are both round-ears, slow of brain and quick to fall to violence against foreigners.

Something tells me you have a lot to learn about the baseline human.

Twenty minutes later, the carrier's engines died. "Xenos, to me." Ultramarines dismounted the carrier and spread out in to the road. "This way."

"Chief Librarian, we march with you." Four Ultramarines split from their squad.

"Well met, battle-brothers. You are our point and rear detail. Nothing touches these xenos. They are guests of the CM himself."

"We march, Chief Librarian."

Gratifying that we are finally being treated with the respect we deserve. Yvraine pulled up her hood.

"Xenos, our own feet must carry us from here on." The Chief Librarian stumped up a spiralling ramp leading on to a walkway over the road that cut through a block of buildings. A pair of Astartes thundered ahead of them. "The station is on the far side of Via Laponis."

"I could not help but overhear that the enemy had armour on the Via Laponis. I take it those are the guns we can hear."

"Always the meddlers, aren't you? Sticking fingers, noses, and ears in to other's affairs where you should leave well alone."

"There is little point to our presence if we are ferrying our gift to a would-be mass-grave, Chief Librarian."

"This will not be another Cadia! That affair was a shambles of miscommunication and utter lack of co-operation between services. We respect the lesser warriors in the Auxilia. It is they that lay the foundations of victory. Their blood, the cement. Their bones, the supports."

One of the Ultramarines on point kneeled and raised his hand. "Chief Librarian, the walkway has collapsed."

"Understood. Recce VL for us."

Both Ultramarines dropped from the crumbling edge, down to the four-laned carriageway. Yvraine peered back at the pair guarding their rear. Automatic weapons fire thumped at her heart. Sharp pops sent a buzz through her knees. Ultramarine attack ships roared overhead. Their chin-guns swivelled to point down at Yvraine.

"Friendly fire! U-Force, cease fire!"

"Then again…" The Chief Librarian belted for the ledge. "The lesser warriors in the Auxilia are only human." Yvraine leaped from the ledge and skidded down a smooth section of the walkway. Chunks formed uneven mounds across the lanes. All four were laid arrow-straight and disappeared in to tunnels far to the west.

"She will buff out." One of the Ultramarines banged his fist against a large dent on his right pauldron. "Go, Chief Librarian. Hurry, there is not much cover."

"Quicken your pace now, xenos." The Chief Librarian aimed his staff at a collection of barricades inside the mouth of a traffic tunnel. Gun muzzles poked through gaps. Yvraine took off after the Chief Librarian. The Visarch and the Veilwalker quickly followed. Two pairs of boots crashed down the slope behind them. A human stood up behind a barricade and wheeled his arm.

That could have been us.

The first instance I can recall a human taking fire for me.

Heads poked around barricades and hardbag walls at Yvraine. Eyes widened behind goggles and visors. Sneers flitted across faces. A human spat at Yvraine's feet. Yvraine stepped over the globule and kept her eyes on the road.

Dust exploded from a bag inches from Yvraine's head. Rounds whipped past and peppered the barricades. Auxilia bolters and lasguns opened up. The Chief Librarian weaved through the bagged corridors. A hammer struck his staff and knocked it out of his hand. Yvraine scooped up the staff and carried it along behind the Astartes.

Laari, Veilwalker, are you hurt?

Ego, Yvraine. The Veilwalker's heels slapped the road surface. Just ego.

"Damned lucky shot." The Chief Librarian took the staff from Yvraine.

"Please do not ensure its destruction on account of my handling." Rounds cracked and hissed inside the tunnel. Ricochets pinged around.

"Destruction? Gah! You'd like that very much, wouldn't you, xenos?" The Chief Librarian climbed steps away from the road and moved sideways through a service hatch. "This will take us up to ground level."

An iris dilated and the Chief Librarian sidled through on to a street. "U-Force, hold your fire!"

"Is that wise? We do not know who holds the station." The Veilwalker kept well back from the open hatch.

"Come-come, xenos. Are we not all psykers?" The Chief Librarian strolled across the open street. "We are expected."

"He is right." Yvraine scurried after the Ultramarine. The words Granite Forum Station moved sideways across an overhead sign.

"Down here." The Chief Librarian shoved through a turnstile and clanked down a silent revolving staircase.

Don't these contraptions normally ferry the passenger? The Veilwalker ran her hand along the smooth surface between the stairs.

Not with the main generators powered down. Yes, I can converse via the mind as easily as you can, Veilwalker.

Rude to intrude on a lady's thoughts, Ultramarine.

Intrude? I merely observed what passed between you. The Chief Librarian dipped his staff beneath a flickering lamp in the angled ceiling. Never in all my 2438 years have I ever set foot on public transport.

That was a private discussion, Ultramarine, said Yvraine. Not for a human mind.

Peace, Lady Yvraine, said the Visarch. Thoughts and opinions should flow more readily between prospect allies.

Steady, Laarian. The binds yet hang loose.

A locked gate parted before the Chief Librarian's staff and the party carried on down an unlit tunnel. Behind them, the gate sealed itself.

Raise your hands, Laari. Veilwalker, do so too.

Why, may I ask?

Sights fall on you, Veilwalker. Yvraine and the Visarch raised their hands. No sudden movements.

"Hail, Lady Prophet. The Saint offered me much knowledge of your cause."

"Come forth and face me, woman to woman." Spotlights blinded Yvraine. A figure in a wide-brimmed hat hovered just outside the light. "Who are you? Show yourself!"

"I trust you came without weapons, xenos?"

"None but our minds."

"I too am blessed." A foreign consciousness brushed Yvraine's mental boundaries. "Now, let us hurry. Our train awaits."

Concertina wire running across a platform separated a crowd of civilians from faceless warriors bulked up in black carapace armour. A shuttle made up of three segments waited on the far side of the wire.

I need no three guesses to ascertain these humans' allegiance. Yvraine crossed the gap after the Chief Librarian.

"Cross my threshold, Lady Xenos." The woman in the wide-brimmed hat sat, head bowed and legs spread apart, on a seat. A blood-red bolter shaped in the style of an ancient crossbow lay at her knee and a long pommel protruded from a leather sheath. "My human mind cannot sustain such discourse without tongues. We shall speak aloud from here on."

"And who are you to demand the Prophet of Ynnead fall in at your heel?" Yvraine and the Veilwalker sat down opposite the human female. The Chief Librarian and the Visarch remained on their feet.

The brim lifted. A circular implant glowed in place of the human's right eye. Fat lips parted and chins sagged. "Kat Greyfax—Inquisitor Katarinya Greyfax of His most holy Ordo Hereticus."

"Ordo Hereticus? My dear Inquisitor, you are outside your jurisdiction by dealing with us—"

"So was my colleague, Inquisitor Osvat Radu Zeleska. Do you recollect?"

"I know neither his nor his master's name, Inquisitor. Our purpose here is one of resurrection."

"You were… unaware his assassin was one of your own?"

"Completely. I have never heard of this human or any assassination order concerning him. Our purpose is to resurrect a human figurehead." Yvraine looked at the Veilwalker and nudged her with her knee.

"Inquisitor, the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion himself commissioned Archmagos Dominus Beli—"

"So, your precious suit can snatch a corpse from death's jaws. I shall enjoy observing your failure, xenos. When the ice you tread caves in, I shall be under it." The Inquisitor spread her arms across the back of her seat. "A very good evening to you, Chief Librarian."

"Inquisitor."

The carriage's doors hissed shut. The watchful eyes – artificial and organic – gripped Yvraine's in a stare-down.

Now, I know this one is indeed compensating. The Veilwalker eyed the corset the Inquisitor wore and the enormous breasts moulded on her chest piece. High-heels elevated the Inquisitor to considerable height. Gold plate covered most of her armour. A leatherbound book and a thick letter I hung by a chain from her belt.

Do all Inquisitors adhere to such idiotic dress-code?

Perhaps human women believe that the display of prominent mammary glands constitutes a more aggressive showing of force? Their source of power maybe. Akin to our war-runes.

It is one source of power, Veilwalker, wholly unsavoury in its application. Her and the Ranger would see eye to eye.

The mag-rails launched the train out of the station and up a sharp incline. Each segment pivoted and kept the passengers on a level plain.

"May I inquire on our destination, now we are in-transit, Inquisitor?"

The Inquisitor's thumb tapped the blunt pommel of her sword. "Where the ground touches the sky, xenos."

"Our journey takes us through the Aegis Wall and up to the Fortress of Hera," said the Chief Librarian.

"Ultramarine, you have just collaborated with a xenos within the presence of a representative of the Emperor!" The Inquisitor's heels clacked on the carriage floor. Her bolter hybrid flicked at the Chief Librarian. "Deliver me your final testament and I shall deliver the Emperor's mercy."

"Expel your hot wind, but kindly do so in the open air, Inquisitor!" The Chief Librarian's eyes glowed. The tip of his staff lowered. Yvraine and the Veilwalker shifted away from the two giants filling the carriage.

"Lady Inquisitor!" An acolyte in black carapace knocked on the inside of the hatch joining the carriages. "Chaos frigate just entered atmo and dumped its pods east of MC. It is adjusting its heading as we speak. It means to bombard the Fortress of Hera, ma'am."

The light in the Chief Librarian's eyes faded. The Inquisitor lowered her weapon and followed the acolyte in to the next carriage. "It intoxicates, you know." The Chief Librarian rested his staff on a seat, stooped, and sat down. Leather creaked beneath him. "The passing of power to the insignificant. I doubt she even remembers the underling she once was. She would have you know that she was born with the bolter in her hand and the letter I tattooed to her neck."

"All that power and they still brand her like a slave."

"A slave?"

"Ynnari do not own slaves. We are a society free of dealings in the flesh-market."

"Were time our slave, I am prepared to argue you in to the ground for that, xenos." The Chief Librarian smiled. "Our society is just as much a paradise as yours."

"Oh? Try me."

Lady Prophet? Our destination approaches.

Yvraine lay sideways on the seat with her head resting on her arm. The Inquisitor, sitting opposite, smirked. "All tired out, xenos?"

"I know not when my next period of slumber will be." Yvraine rubbed the base of her palm in her eye. "Sleep is golden, Inquisitor."

"Sleep is for the weak."

"Sleep is precious." The Chief Librarian's head lifted.

"Ahhh, the Void Dragon awakes. Did we disturb you, Ultramarine?"

"I felt a sharp gust of wind just now. Then I remembered an Inquisitor was aboard." The Chief Librarian's armoured joints creaked when he stood up. "Have no fear, xenos, a most efficient instrument of the Divine's will is on hand to give the last rites." The Inquisitor matched the Chief Librarian's height and they stared one another down.

Adult humans, Veilwalker. Yvraine wiped dust from her eye. Ne'er a pettier gathering.

How can you sleep on the threshold of such mighty undertaking? The Veilwalker's foot drummed against the seat. Her middle finger twitched.

How can you not? A rich changing in the hours brings fatigue down on me so aggressively.

A trait your bodyguard does not share. He has not moved a muscle.

Laari's watch endures. Yvraine got up and rubbed her neck. The Visarch had remained standing throughout the journey. Fresh tidings, Laari?

None but the Veilwalker's, Lady Prophet, though our altitude has increased.

"Tell me, Chief Librarian. Are we bound for destination within the city walls?"

"Sit down and shut your mouth!" The brim of the Inquisitor's hat hit Yvraine's brow. Shutters parted and crawled back from the carriage windows. Water gushed from the mouths of stone lions jutting from towers and flowed along a curving aqueduct beneath the mag-rail. The shuttle left a narrow tunnel inside a curtain wall 1000 feet high and sped above the running water.

A fortress twice the height of the curtain wall overlooked the aqueduct and many anti-aircraft emplacements sitting upon square towers with their quad-linked cannon pointing in to the night sky. Statues of cloaked Ultramarines stood in alcoves within the fortress's smooth walls. Bright blue banners displaying the Ultima glyph hung from balconies beneath golden lions, eagles, and other beasts of prey. Smoke poured from collapsed walls and caved-in domes. Flying drones, tanks slung beneath their bodies, discharged water in to the infernos.

"That is a look of wonderment, if these old eyes ever regarded one," said the Chief Librarian.

"I give you that, human. This fortress was the work of a master. We are honoured to be able to regard it in our lifetime."

"I am sorry you had to see it at night and in some distress. The summer sunrise on the dome of the Temple of Correction must be witnessed at least once in your lifetime. Truly, it is where the ground and the sky meet, and hopefully where death gives way to life anew."

Yvraine, danger. The Visarch's hand closed around Yvraine's elbow.

A human gunship climbed from the darkness and levelled its wings alongside the shuttle. In the open side door sat a being in a black bodysuit and a skull-faced helmet. Red eye-lenses looked down a long telescopic sight mounted to a marksman's rifle. Gold outlined a red letter I on the gunship's flank.

Sights on you, Yvraine.

Yvraine jerked her arm free. We will not show fear to these fanatics, Laari. They will see it as a victory over us. The skull-faced acolyte took aim at Yvraine and held his mark. Lay your first shot well, human. You will not get a second.

The shuttle doors parted. White light seared Yvraine's eyes. Humans in black, huddled behind barricades, pointed lasguns at the Ynnari. The Inquisitor shoved between Yvraine and the Veilwalker and stepped off the shuttle. The humans lowered their weapons and killed their torches. Wire was pulled aside, allowing the party off the platform and inside the fortress.

"We now tread the Hall of Maxellus," said the Chief Librarian. "As named after our twenty-first Chapter Master. Were time our slave, I would gladly offer you a tour of the fortress."

"The xenos are here as guests of the Adeptus Mechanicus, not the Ultramarines." The Inquisitor pursed her lips.

Gratitude for kind offer, Chief Librarian.

Where would you be stationed, Chief Librarian, if scrolls are your profession?

Why, the Librarius. The heart of our chapter's knowledge, our history. All of it is kept away from our battle-brother's eyes. Only a select few have access, and even fewer have free access.

Water trickled from a golden fountain. The centrepiece – a one-to-one scale Ultramarine – held a sword aloft. White lillies floated on the clear surface. Gravel crunched beneath Yvraine's heels.

"The silence…" Stars glimmering in a green nebula caught Yvraine's eye.

"One of our geodesic domes. Secluded and soundproof. A place of meditation."

"Cease your discourse, Chief Librarian! Let the Adeptus Mechanicus deal with them."

I feel I must apologise for my colleague in black. They have a dimmer attitude towards xenos than most, said the Chief Librarian.

We were hardly welcomed with open arms.

And you will be forgotten about the moment your feet leave Macragge's surface.

Abominations swept and dusted the vast, empty halls. Only when the party left the shelter of a long, marble colonnade did they finally come across life; a being twenty feet tall.

"Good evening to you, Inquisitor Greyfax." The Archmagos lumbered across a plaza towards the party. "Your presence endows me with firm righteousness in our holy cause. I would hurrah but I seem to have misplaced my organic lungs."

Is this what the humans call sarcasm?

I hope so. Yvraine smiled at the back of the Inquisitor's head.

"The Emperor protects the faithful, Archmagos. These xenos are now in your care. Keep them on a short leash, would you?"

"Veilwalker, Lady Ygraine, Visarch, if you please…"

"I shall be watching, xenos," muttered the Inquisitor to Yvraine. "And waiting beneath the ice."

"We appreciate the Inquisition's vested interest. Matters lie in the Archmagos's capable hands though. Fear not. If we catch wind of any xenos, we shall inform you immediately." Scar tissue twisted on the Inquisitor's cheek. Her gauntlet squeezed the grip of her sword.

Inquisitors have long memories, Lady Xenos. That marksman was a Vindicare Assassin. The Chief Librarian plodded next to Yvraine in the Archmagos's footsteps. A vaulted ceiling covered their heads and steps led them upwards.

I know what they are.

Their patience can stretch for years.

I know how they hunt. Yvraine's eyes followed the Archmagos's twisting segments. Truly a remarkable feat how swiftly he can move. I did wonder how he made the journey to the fortress before we did.

Ask the Omnissiah. Scrolls are my profession.

"Halt! State your business in this wing."

"Good evening, Watchmaster Vaitketuvik!" A head-mounted torch shone in the Archmagos's face. "Praise to the Omnissiah, the Ultramarines, and your wife's shell cakes!"

"Good evening, Archmagos." The Watchmaster's torch fell on Yvraine. "ALAAARM!" His hand flipped open the flap of his holster.

"Stand easy, I say!" The Chief Librarian staff lit up and cast a glowing orb towards the ceiling. Light spread throughout the corridor. "It is I, Varro Tigurius. These are guests of the Archmagos."

"Chief Librarian." The Watchmaster's hand stayed on the grip of his bolt pistol. "Am I of so little influence that you did not see fit to inform the Officer of the Watch of the arrival of a party of xenos?"

"Careless talk, Watchmaster. The fewer tongues to wag, the better."

"Mm-hm. Secrecy essential to success," said the Archmagos. "Moving on."

"Er, beg your pardon, Archmagos?" The Watchmaster opened a pouch on his hip and took out a dataslate. "The time and circumstances have been noted—urgh!" The dataslate soared from the Watchmaster's hands and up in to the Archmagos's claws. "Archmagos, the fortress is in lockdown. I must take note of this—"

"Were the fortress in lockdown, my guests would not have been admitted, and certainly not with such freedom. I wish you the very best of evenings, Watchmaster." The Archmagos shambled forwards and tossed the slate down to the Watchmaster. The Watchmaster jumped aside and stood with his back flat against the wall.

"Xenos, xenos, xenos." The Watchmaster cringed and made the sign of the Aquila. "No, no, no. Protect me. Protect me."

"Stand easy, Watchmaster. The guests are envoys of the Ynnari," the Chief Librarian said. "And will bestow no harm upon us."

"Err, you cannot go out there! An air raid is in progress."

"The frigate the Inquisitor mentioned?"

"Inquisitor?!"

"Ah, you were unaware. I do apologise for that. Archmagos, I know a good vantage where we can view safely."

"Must we deviate from present task, Chief Librarian?" Yvraine said. "The more that know of our presence, the greater the danger."

"Oh, nonsense. You are quite safe in my company. Let us take to the rooftops."

A white dusting covered a roof terrace. Fog rolled from Yvraine's nostrils. She swept the snow from a marble balustrade and stole a look over the edge at the sloping roofs and domes below. Far enough to make peace with your Gods at least.

You may disregard the jump, Yvraine, but others have stood where you stand right now. Do not besmirch their memory.

Suicides have no right to be remembered, Laari. No right to anything.

"There!" The Chief Librarian lowered a pair of magnoculars. "To the left of the Chief Librarian. Our foe adjusts his heading."

"…The Chief Librarian?" Yvraine pulled her hood up.

"The sentinel—the statue upon the curtain wall."

"You have a statue of yourself?" The Veilwalker shielded her eyes. Muzzle-flash illuminated the anti-air towers, many hundreds of feet below the main bastion. Thunderclaps reached Yvraine's ears.

"With batteries in operation, surely that leaves the fortress's shield down." The Ynnari's heads turned to the Chief Librarian.

"Concerned, Lady Xenos?" Searchlights found the belly of a warship descending from the clouds. Tracer lanced from the hull. Cannon thundered. "Let me run this through my armour…"

Static crackled from the Chief Librarian's armour. "…All U-Force callsigns in the vicinity of Site Lucretious. Strike Corvette 149 Heavy is on-station. Stygies Mark Fourteens have been authorised. The Emperor Protects."

"I would cover my ears if I were you." Snow cascaded from the overhanging roof and showered the Ynnari. Glass rattled in its frames. A shadow roared over the fortress. Miniature suns burned Yvraine's retinas and brought warmth to her brow. Light shot from the vessel's chin in an uninterrupted beam and struck the enemy frigate's flank. A whump whipped Yvraine's face. Snow stung her cheeks. Missiles swarmed the frigate and punched through the armour-plating. Fire gushed from the perforations and rolled across the hull. The broken ram dipped and the frigate fell in to a slow nosedive.

"Damocles!" The Chief Librarian leaped on to the balustrade, gripped a pillar and leaned over the abyss. "Black Reach!" Forked lightning sparked from his staff. "MACRAGGE!"