It was nothing less than galactic civil war.

THE TEMPLE HAD never been busier, which was ironic given that it was likely to be razed to the ground sometime soon. Ghota had not returned, but Roxanne knew it was only a matter of time. She wondered if she could have done anything different, if there was something she could have done that might have avoided this inevitable doom. No, she had been defending herself, and were it not for her unique abilities then she would have suffered a lingering, degrading and painful death.

Roxanne had come to the temple believing that she deserved such a fate, but time and distance had given her a perspective on what had happened aboard the Argo. It hadn’t been her fault, despite what her father and brothers kept telling her. The vessel had been commissioned at the outset of the Great Crusade and the demands of war had kept it from its regularly scheduled maintenance refits. With such inherently unstable technology as Geller Fields, it had only been a matter of time until disaster struck.

She swallowed hard as a mouthful of bile rose in her throat at the memories of being trapped in her crystal dome, protected and left to wonder what had become of the crew, but knowing full well what their fate had been.

Roxanne rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes and took a deep breath.

‘Calm is the way that the eye sees,’ she said. ‘The storm parts before me and the swells of the ocean rise to meet me in glorious concord.’

‘Talking to yourself is a sign of madness,’ said a voice at her shoulders. ‘That’s what my dad always said.’

Roxanne looked down and saw the tiny and lost features of Maya’s eldest surviving son.

‘Arik,’ she said. ‘Your father was a clever man. I think he was onto something.’

‘Are you mad?’ asked the boy.

Roxanne considered the question seriously. She wasn’t sure she knew the answer.

‘I think we all go a little mad sometimes,’ replied Roxanne, sitting next to Arik on a wooden bench. ‘But it’s nothing to worry about.’

‘I though I was going mad when my brothers died,’ said Arik, staring at the Vacant Angel at the end of the building. ‘I kept seeing faces on that statue, but mum kept telling me I was making it up and that I was being stupid.’

Roxanne risked a glance at the faceless statue, unwilling to spare it more than a glance. Palladis had told her what he thought he’d seen there after Ghota’s men had been killed, and now she wondered what manner of presence might have fleetingly turned its gaze upon them. Roxanne knew from long experience that there were innumerable thingsthat could be drawn to strong emotions, but she had never heard of them existing in this world.

‘I don’t think you should be looking at it like that,’ she said, turning his small face away with gentle pressure of her fingertips. He was resistant at first, but at last his head turned away.

‘They say that we’re all going to be dead soon,’ said Arik.

‘Who says?’

The boy shrugged.

‘Who says that?’ pressed Roxanne. ‘Who’s been telling you that?’

‘I listen and I hear things,’ said Arik. ‘Too many people crowded in here not to hear what they’re saying.’

‘And what are they saying?’

‘That Horus is coming to kill us all. His fleets are on their way to Terra right now and he’s going to slaughter us all. Just like they say he did with the Iron Hands. He’s burning up all the worlds out in space, and folk are scared he’s going to do the same to us.’

The boy began to cry softly, and Roxanne put her arm around him. She pulled him close and looked for Maya, but Arik’s mother was nowhere to be seen. She had spent a day and a night shrieking at the feet of the Vacant Angel, but Palladis had eventually led her away as the crowds of people flocking to the temple grew ever larger.

Word of what had happened spread through the Petitioner’s City faster than news of a name being called to the inner precincts of the palace, and the curious, the desperate and the needy had flocked to the temple. Palladis had turned them away at first, but it quickly became a futile effort. Over three hundred people filled the temple, many with truthful grief to vent, others here simply to feel part of something bigger than themselves.

Roxanne let the boy cry and tried to think of something hopeful to tell him.

‘The Warmaster is a long way away,’ she said. ‘It will take him a long time to get to Terra from Isstvan V, but the Emperor’s fleets will stop him long before he gets here.’

Arik looked up, his face red and puffy with snot and tears.

‘You promise?’

‘I promise,’ said Roxanne. ‘Trust me, I know these things. I used to work on a starship, so I know how long it takes to get from one side of the galaxy to the other.’

Arik smiled, and she tried to keep the truth of the matter from him. True, Isstvan was incredibly distant from Terra, but with fair tides and a steady course, the Warmaster’s forces could reach the heart of the Imperium within months.

Not for the first time, Roxanne wondered what she was doing here, surrounded by people she didn’t know. For all its faults, her family had always drawn tight around its members, even the ones who – rightly or wrongly – were believed to have brought shame upon the good name of Castana. Even she had been brought into the bosom of the family in the wake of the loss of the Argo, albeit with the crushing power of imposed guilt.

With Babu Dhakal’s inevitable retribution looming like an oncoming storm, she knew it would be far safer for her to leave this place. She wore a silver ring that could send a locator pulse to the Castana estates and have a skiff en route to her within minutes. Inside an hour she could be back in the gilded halls of her family’s sprawling Galician manor house, with its great libraries, portrait-hung galleries and luxurious appointments. Without even realising it, she was twirling the ring around her right index finger, her thumb hovering over the activation stud and the first code phrases forming in her mind.

Roxanne took her thumb away from the ring, knowing that however much she might desire to flee, she would never abandon these people. No matter that Babu Dhakal’s thugs had given her no choice, it was her fault they would come and destroy this place and everyone in it. She could no more abandon these people to their fate than she could trick her heart into stopping beating.

Arik reached up and wiped his nose and eyes with his sleeve. His eyes were swollen with tears, but he had found a place of calm within himself.

‘What did you used to do on a starship?’ he asked.

Roxanne hesitated, not yet ready share her identity with the people around her. Like the blind astro-telepaths of the City of Sight, her people were vital to the continued existence of the Imperium, but were feared as much as they were needed. Like most misunderstood things, fear of their abilities had made them outcasts.

‘I helped to make sure it reached where it was supposed to go,’ said Roxanne.

‘That’s why you wear that bandanna under your hood,’ said Arik.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ said Roxanne, suddenly wary.

‘You’re one of them Navigators, ain’t you?’

Roxanne’s head jerked up and she looked around to see who had heard the boy’s question. If anyone was listening, they gave no sign of it. She lowered her head towards Arik and whispered to him.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am, but you can’t tell anyone. People don’t really understand what we are and how we do what we do. That makes them afraid, and frightened people can do terrible things to the things that frighten them.’

Arik smiled through his tears. ‘You don’t have to worry about that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Everyone knows what you are,’ he said. ‘They’ve known ever since you came here. My dad told me what you were a while ago. Even before you went to get the medicine for me.’