Saturnalia takes Golovko by the arm and holds him fast. The master of the Black Sentinels is a position of great respect, but even he must bow to the power of the Legio Custodes. The Custodian dwarfs Golovko, and his gold armour lends weight to his authority.

‘Listen to what Yasu Nagasena has to say,’ suggests Saturnalia.

Golovko nods and shrugs off his hand. ‘So what’s so special about them?’ he asks.

‘Look at their size,’ says Saturnalia.

‘They’re big, so what?’

‘I know it is hard to tell, but I would estimate that most of these men were as tall as the men we are hunting,’ says Nagasena, imagining these body parts reassembled into human form. ‘And that crossed lightning bolt tattoo was once the symbol of the Thunder Warriors who fought at the side of the Emperor in the earliest wars of Unity.’

‘What are you saying?’ asks Athena Diyos. ‘That these are those same warriors?’

Nagasena shakes his head. ‘No, they are long dead, but I believe someone has replicated at least part of the process involved in transforming a mortal man into such a warrior.’

‘Impossible,’ says Saturnalia. ‘Such technology is the domain of the Emperor alone.’

‘Clearly not,’ replies Nagasena. ‘And the question we now face is how these men came to run afoul of our prey? I do not believe it to be simple happenstance. I believe they were seeking them out. And that means that whoever engineered these men is clearly aware of the nature of the men we hunt.’

He looks down at the bodies and adds, ‘If not their capabilities.’

‘In other words, we are not alone in our quest,’ says Saturnalia, reaching the logical conclusion of Nagasena’s thought.

Golovko shakes his head and says, ‘Then we’re wasting time,’ before leading the Black Sentinels into the square. They move like the professional soldiers they are, and Nagasena follows them out, knowing immediately where he needs to go as his eyes alight on the smouldering remains of a lean-to structure that has been shredded by heavy calibre gunfire.

‘That’s bolter damage,’ says Saturnalia, levelling his spear and squaring his shoulders.

Nagasena nods, unlimbering his long rifle and unsnapping the safety as he moves towards the ruined structure. He sees a host of battle indicators strewn on the ground, broken blades, torn cloth and brass shell casings that are large enough to have been ejected from a bolter, which makes them far older models than are used today.

Blood splashes and footprints show signs of a furious battle, but the scavengers who picked this place clean have obscured any tracks or clues to their prey’s route. He moves to the edge of the ruins, detecting a fragrant smell he recognises as burning qash. For the briefest moment, Nagasena remembers losing himself in a qash haze, sprawled in the silken dragon houses of Nihon with a gun in one hand and an urge to turn it on himself.

He shakes the moment loose and raises his rifle as he sees a thin-boned man seated on a tall stool, the only piece of furniture to have escaped the furious barrage that tore his home apart. He smokes a thin-stemmed pipe amid a storm of broken glass and splintered wood. Fragrant smoke drifts from the pipe’s wide bowl, inviting and redolent with forbidden pleasures.

‘You are a chirurgeon,’ says Nagasena.

‘I am Antioch,’ says the man, his manner distracted and his voice slurred. ‘I am having a smoke. Would you like to join me?’

‘No,’ says Nagasena.

‘Come on,’ laughs Antioch. ‘I see the way you’re looking at the pipe. You are a lover of the resin, I can always tell.’

‘Once maybe,’ admits Nagasena.

‘Always,’ sniggers Antioch as Saturnalia and Golovko pick their way through the rubble.

‘They were here, weren’t they?’ says Nagasena.

‘Who?’

Golovko backhands the man from his stool, and he crashes down into the shattered pieces of a toppled cabinet. Glass pricks his skin, but Antioch seems not to care. He spits blood and does not protest when Golovko hauls him to his feet by his soiled nightshirt.

‘The traitor Space Marines,’ snarls Golovko. ‘They were here, we know they were here.’

‘Then why did he ask?’ replies Antioch.

Golovko hits the man again, and Nagasena says, ‘Enough. The man is smoking the Migouresin, he will not care or feel it if you beat him.’

Golovko seems unconvinced, but leaves the man alone for now. Saturnalia lifts an overturned table that is sticky with glossy blood. He bends to sniff the table’s surface and nods.

‘Space Marine blood,’ he says.

‘They came to you for help,’ says Nagasena. ‘What did you do for them?’

Antioch shrugs and bends to retrieve his fallen pipe. He gently blows on the bowl, and it glows a warm, inviting orange. He takes a draw and exhales a number of perfect smoke rings.

‘Yes,’ he says, ‘they were here, but what do I know about their anatomy? I couldn’t do anything for the big man. He was dying before I even touched him.’

‘One of them is dead?’ says Saturnalia. ‘Who?’

Antioch nods dreamily. ‘I think they called him Gythua.’

‘Death Guard,’ says Golovko with a nod. ‘Good.’

‘What about Kai Zulane?’ asks Saturnalia. ‘They had an astropath with them too.’

‘Is that what he was?’ replies Antioch. ‘Fella had no eyes, right enough. Never thought he was an astropath. I thought they all lived up in the City of Sight?’

‘Not this one,’ says Nagasena. ‘He was badly hurt. Does he still live?’

Antioch smiles and shrugs, as though the matter is no longer of concern to him. ‘I patched him up, sure. Cleaned up his eyes and packed the wound with sterile gauze. For all the good it’ll do him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that he’s dying,’ snapped Antioch. ‘Too much trauma, too much pain. I’ve seen it before in the Army, some boys just give up when they can’t take any more hurt.’

‘But he is still alive?’ presses Nagasena.

‘Last I saw of him, yes.’

‘What happened here?’ asks Saturnalia. ‘Why did those men outside come here?’

‘The Babu’s men? I don’t know, but they wanted them to come out and surrender.’

Nagasena nods, his suspicion that Babu Dhakal’s men knew the Space Marines were here and what they were now confirmed. In a place like this it would be hard to keep anything secret, but what could make a man like that actively seek to engage Space Marines in combat? Surely such a man would know how deadly these warriors would be? Why risk confrontation unless they had something he needed enough to risk the lives of so many men.

‘But they didn’t surrender,’ says Antioch, shuddering at the memory, even through the bliss of a narcotic haze. ‘Never seen anything like it in my life, and hope I never do again. I watched them take the Babu’s men apart like they were simpletons. Six men against thirty and they killed them is if it was nothing at all. Only Ghota walked away alive.’

‘Ghota? Is he one of Babu Dhakal’s men?’

‘He is that,’ agrees Antioch. ‘Big son of a bitch, almost as big as the men you’re after. And if you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think you want to find them. Even though there’s only five of them left alive, I reckon you don’t have enough men to put them down.’

‘Five?’ says Nagasena.

‘Ghota killed the white haired one,’ says Antioch, and Nagasena shares an uneasy look with Saturnalia. The unspoken question hangs between them like a guilty secret. What kind of mortal could kill a Space Marine?

‘Where are they now?’ demands Golovko. ‘Where did they go after you aided the escape of traitors?’

‘Ah, now I’ve been helpful to you, but I don’t think I want to tell you anything else,’ says Antioch. ‘Doesn’t seem right.’

‘We are servants of the Imperium,’ says Saturnalia, looming over the fragile chirurgeon, who looks up at him like a child defying his father.

‘That’s as maybe, but at least they were honest,’ says Antioch.