Back at the base at the same time, the rest of the group had gathered in a training area just a few hundred metres from the main billeting. Charleston wasn't present as he was off overseeing the flipping over and hauling of the Nighthawk, or whatever was left of it. So, that left McGranth, the Terrans and Commissar Colonel Demontfurt. They all walked into the training area.

McGranth and Demontfurt gathered the others in a ring to surround them. The faced the young Terrans. The only ones who seemed comfortable were the Eds and, peculiarly, Rolf.

"Listen up," McGranth spoke clearly. "If you lot are going to be of any use to us on the battlefield, it's time for a refresher course in the finer points of combat."

The Eds silently concluded that the Grand Commander mostly meant close combat.

"Alright," Demontfurt said and gestured over his shoulder. "First, we'll start with target practice, then we'll proceed to the finer parts of glorious close combat. But first, the target training."

The Terrans now firstly took in the training area. It was a barren place, except for a few wrecks of spent tanks and old buildings. They all stood in the centre of the area. Every one of them had left their weapons behind, except Rolf, whom stoically refused to leave the Yarrickian Sword behind.

A couple of Adeptus Mechanicus Techpriests came up. They all had servitors to help them. Most Terrans cringed at the sight of the mindless half-humans. One of the servitors was carrying a large crate. It put it down on the ground next to Demontfurt and the commissar took off the lid of the crate. He handed out a lasgun to each and every youngster along with a lasclip. They all knew how to mount the clips after the incident with Necrontyr on Armageddon.

One of the techpriests approached the group and showed what he was holding in his hands. Demontfurt explained what the curious little metal ball was.

"This here, my dear friends, is a target drone."

The techpriest pushed a button hid somewhere on its metal surface. It came to life and the techpriest let go of it. It floated up in the air and took in its surroundings, seemingly planning already. It hung there in the air, lazily.

Demontfurt didn't speak this time, the techpriest did. "They are held up with magnetic hover systems. I doubt you've encountered this technology before." There was tad contempt in the skinny man's voice. "We have primed several of these around here. They are programmed to randomly go online and take a course through the air over the area, not more than two metres above the ground." The techpriest fell silent and looked at the lone drone in front of the Terrans. "Yokor," he said softly and the little drone zoomed off to hide.

"You will attempt to shoot these suckers down," Demontfurt said. "Before they get out of range for your low charge las. The overall score is how many you take down minus the ones you miss. You have fifteen minutes each." Demontfurt took up one of his own laspistols and put the power setting low. "Lower your weapons power setting like this. If you hit someone by accident, it'll only sting a few second, so it won't be lethal."

"Unless," McGranth said and smiled warmly. "Unless of course, you hit Commissar Demontfurt or me. Then it might prove lethal... for you."

The Terrans laughed nervously. Demontfurt smiled too.

"Okay," he said genially. "Who's first?"

Rolf stepped forward. "I am," he said curtly. With that, the others removed themselves from the centre of the area and Rolf pulled out the lasgun. He tensed, trying to sense where it would come. Some part of him had done this for fun hundreds of times before. It was so easy, it told him.

The drone came up behind him. Rolf spun around lightly and nailed it as if it was nothing. Not a single time did Rolf miss the target drone.

In time, they all had shots. Rolf and Eddy tied for the best, although Eddy admitted he felt slightly awkward without the kick that a storm bolter delivered. The target practice continued with them all. Demontfurt coached them, McGranth coming with encouraging words. And with the two's coaching, everybody soon did fairly well, even Nazz, who had surprised them all with a good eye.

"My grandfather was a crack shot," she admitted when Demontfurt asked. "He taught me a little when I was a little child."

The only one, who didn't show up as a careful aim as the others, was Ed. This was no surprise to McGranth, who'd lived through Charleston's sloppy aim for centuries. Demontfurt and McGranth were just happy the powerful young man was wielding a low-power las and not the bolter that was his battlefield weapon.

After a while, Demontfurt informed them they were done. They handed back the lasguns to the techpriest. The robed man also called back all target drones with a single word in Lingua Technis. With that, he left the area.

"Okay," McGranth said cheerfully. "After a bit of rest, we'll go on to unarmed hand to hand training."

The group gathered ten minutes later in a room with a floor covered in a fairly tough mat. It was obvious this was a training room of sorts. McGranth ordered them to sit down by the long edge of the mat and stood himself in the middle of it. The tall, thin techpriest came back with a servitor following behind. The half-human seemed to be malfunctioning, because it seemed to have some sort of tics. The techpriest left the faulty servitor at the centre of the mat together with McGranth and left hastily, ordering the servitor to stay with a single word.

Seeing the techpriest had left, McGranth went into a fighting stance. Five swift blows later the servitor lay leaking oil from a hole in its chest. The techpriest came back with two other, correctly functioning servitors and removed the wreck.

The Terrans stared at McGranth. It was not what he'd done with the servitor that shocked them so. It was how swiftly he'd moved to place and make those punches he'd thrown connect. Too swift for Tactical Dreadnought armour.

"That, my friends, is how we do it Ichar way," McGranth said with a wry smile. "However, the servitor didn't fight back, but an enemy will. Get up, and I'll show you some nice techniques. I'll tech you how to attack, evade and compensate for a larger enemy."

The group got up and stood before McGranth. He showed them a series of punches and swipes to copy. This kept on going for about twenty minutes. It appeared to the Terrans that what they were training in was something that seemed like a bastardisation of several martial arts.

After this, McGranth split them all up in fairly equal groups so they could practice against another human. The only one who had trouble at first was Nazz, but Demontfurt encouraged her best he could, being, after all, a commissar and there to oversee the morale of the troops. So it was that even Nazz got the hang of unarmed fighting. One well-aimed punch laid Kevin flat, wind knocked out of him.

Ed was doing best of all the boys it seemed, his incredible strength giving him an undeniable edge. However, much to McGranth's exasperation, he staunchly refused to fight Nazz or any of the Kankers. His mom didn't want him to fight girls and that was that.

Eddy and Kevin seemed evenly matched, and this bothered Eddy. He had after all seen more action than Kevin. Eddy had for crying out loud defeated a Khornate Berzerker Terminator squad and a deamon prince single-handedly. That Kevin matched him gave his ego a dent.

Edd, on the other hand, had an inner dilemma of mastodont proportions. He could easily predict the others' moves and avoid them and counter-attack, but he wanted this fight for himself as well. The end result was that he didn't do as well as McGranth had been hoping.

However, the Kankers easily dominated the whole scene, mixing brute force with technique. Even the wiry and agile Rolf was put to shame, who after all was second only to Ed amongst the boys. But one thing puzzled Demontfurt. The three sisters seemed very equal, too equal even for sisters. But he decided not to bother too much over thus.

The group moved out of the training room again but not before Demontfurt demonstrated an elegant back flip, despite his late thirties. All the Terrans applauded this; except Rolf, who got something dark in his eyes.

They moved back to the area where they had tested their firing skills. Demontfurt lifted the lid off a box that the techpriests had left behind and picked up the long, silvery blade from it. He frowned at its apparent lack of perfect balance, but swung deftly with it in the air a few times to get used to the weight. Then he turned to the Terrans.

"As you can see, it is time for hand weapons training. You will each take a sword from the batch here-"

"Can't I use my lightning claw instead?" Eddy interrupted.

"No, and that's an order," McGranth snapped. "We'll all be equal in this fight. You'll all use the monomolecular edged swords in that crate."

"We'll hardly be equal in battle..." Eddy muttered.

McGranth didn't take notice of the remark. He was fixing Rolf with a hard stare. "That means that you won't be fighting with that sword, Rolf," McGranth said softly.

"Go ahead, make my day..." Rolf muttered sourly.

"You know, Rolf, it will hardly be fair towards the others if you use that blade," McGranth replied. "So be a nice boy and take a monomol-sword."

Muttering, Rolf put down his sword in its sheath in the crate and replaced it with a monomolecular sword instead.

Once again, McGranth split them into smaller groups and after a bit of instruction from Demontfurt's side, they began clashing blade to blade. Demontfurt had showed them how to blunt the edges mechanically so they wouldn't harm each other.

To everyone's surprise, Nazz did really well. With a slight blush on her cheeks, she told them that she'd begun with fencing lessons, much like Rolf. Although, with a bit of extra instruction from Demontfurt, who was a registered sword master, she soon held her own without problem. Once again, Eddy and Kevin came out equals. Ed came out a tad worse than Edd, who'd given in to the temptations and used his psychics, although barely at all. It came without questioning that Rolf was dominant in every aspect. Not a sword scratched his body. The Kankers, however, had a bit of trouble. They were masters at bare-hand brawling, but armed combat wasn't really their cup of tea. This disheartened them a tad, but Demontfurt promised to instruct them and coach them best he could, as he'd done with Nazz. At this, the three sisters cheered up considerably.

When all the monomolecular edged swords had been put back into the crate, Rolf approached Demontfurt. The powerful commissar looked quizzically at the young man.

"What if we try at each other, commissar?" Rolf asked calmly, almost chillingly.

"What?" Demontfurt said bewildered.

"You heard me perfectly clear," Rolf said softly.

Demontfurt shrugged. He didn't like were this was heading, for some reason.

"But this time," Rolf said with a wolfish smile on his lips. "We use our own weapons of choice." He drew the ancient deamon slayer blade and stood in a battle stance. Demontfurt, unable to resist a challenge and having a reputation to think of, took the hike and pulled out two silver gleaming swords from their sheathes by his waist.

"First blood?" Demontfurt asked.

"First, as you say, blood," Rolf replied.

The two flew at each other with a battle shout each and a split second later, the air was filled with the metal clang when steel meets steel. They whirled and parried each and every blow the other one delivered. When Demontfurt thrust forward, trying to use his superior momentum to bring the young man off guard, Rolf dodged and struck at Demontfurt from another angle. Demontfurt drew up his blade to parry the, to him, clumsy attack. Just before Rolf's sword would hit one of Demontfurt's, Rolf would twist it and bring it in from another angle. And so it went on. Rolf evaded every trick Demontfurt tried and Demontfurt parried every blow of Rolf's. Demontfurt was backed up by years of experience, skill and artisanship whilst Rolf was fighting through the spirit and memories of a true Imperial Hero. It looked long as the two were as good.

Then Demontfurt found and unguarded opening in Rolf's guard after one too clumsy swing. The colonel-commissar thrust forward with his both swords. Alas, Rolf saw the impetuosity of the move and took his chance. He deftly brought the sword up in a two-handed grip and thrust downwards, using his superior height to its maximum.

Their blades scratched each other's skins at the exact same time. Demontfurt felt the tip of the Yarrickian sword at his chest; something wet trickling down between his chest hairs. Rolf felt the cold steel of two single-edged swords at his throat and how they cut his skin slightly.

Equals.

"That birdie won't fly again," Charleston said with a nonchalant gesture as he walked up to the group of people in the area. He was referring to the Night Hawk. "The only things that still function as they should are the lasguns and one engine and why do everybody look like bird's houses?"

Charleston had noticed the shocked looks on everybody's faces. He got an eerie feeling they were looking straight through him. He turned round and saw Demontfurt and young Rolf in a stance that suggested something of a fight had been happening.

"Oh, I see..." Charleston mumbled silently as he saw the two men locked in combat pose.

Johnny stood in the middle of the pit. His eyes were closed, Niire was held firmly in his right hand whilst his left hand was clenched tightly. A few of the runes on his armour glowed, the glow circling around from rune to rune in a pattern. Niire shone with a dull, blue light as well. It was silent, so silent. Johnny flexed his mind. Taking in the surroundings, he tried to 'see' his opponent. Nothing yet. The Master Lexicanum wasn't lazing around with him then.

Then, he spun round, a metallic clang resounding in the air of Secondus. McKenzie jumped backwards, raising his blade to charge again. McKenzie deftly parried a psychic charge on Johnny's behalf and countered with something very much alike. The psychic beam hit Johnny's blade full on, throwing him backwards through the air. Johnny never opened his eyes and with a simple mental command, he stopped in the air and landed on the ground again. With inhuman speed, the youngster sprung forth and attacked the seasoned psyker. McKenzie easily blocked Johnny's over-eager strokes and sent him flying backwards with a wrist-flick. Johnny was however soon back in close combat with McKenzie.

All the time, Johnny had his eyes closed. When McKenzie made a swipe that was to cut Johnny's head clear from his shoulders, Johnny raised a gloved hand and caught the force sword in his palm. McKenzie relaxed and Johnny opened his eyes.

"You're getting better," McKenzie said.

"You're still holding back," Johnny replied with a scowl. "You can go harder on me, y'know."

"I could, perhaps. But, had I gone all out, you'd be in pieces now, Johnny-boy. Besides, you're too eager. That blade, Ilsa Niire Hyandar, is no ordinary blade. It has been made by Eldar, remember that."

"But what makes it so special, eh?"

"Johnny, every thing that the Eldar create has a soul, know that. And if a thing has a soul, it has feelings and with feelings comes temper."

Johnny stared at the silvery blade in his hand. "You're kidding." He saw McKenzie's look and realised that McKenzie was dead serious.

"Now," McKenzie said after a moment of silence. "We shall go on to another kind of attack. I see you can perform some of it; alas you are far from a master. Can you guess?"

"Psychic beams and lightning and stuff, right?"

McKenzie nodded. He held out his right arm, palm open. "It is a simple matter; just focus the energy of the Warp into something tangible." He curled his fingers inwards slightly and a blue glowing energy ball appeared in his hand. "When it reaches something I call critical mass, you mustn't forget to release it."

McKenzie let the ball grow slightly and then seemingly tossed it towards a rock. The psychic ball seemed to go inside of the rock. A few seconds later, the rock exploded. "Now, I put a delay on it, so it exploded inside. Usually, the ball disintegrates as soon as it hits something physical."

McKenzie turned to Johnny. "You try now."

Johnny did as McKenzie had done. He held his arm out, palm open, curled his fingers inwards. It took slightly longer for Johnny's ball to start forming than McKenzie's, but it was formed, and that was the point. Johnny raised his hand and tossed the ball towards a rock. The ball exploded as it his the rock, though it didn't cause more than a medium size hole in the rock.

McKenzie nodded. "Pretty good, pretty good. Don't be afraid to hold it longer, Johnny. I'm here to help, you know it."

Once again, Johnny repeated the process. The ball he threw this time was fairly larger and it flew faster as well. It shattered a smaller rock into pebbles.

"One more time, Johnny-boy, with even more power," McKenzie urged.

Johnny did as told once again, and a third time a ball of psychics showed up in his palm. However, it showed up much easier and it grew much larger than the other two.

"Don't forget to release, Johnny," McKenzie reminded, no feelings showing in his voice.

But Johnny didn't release. He remained in the stance of charging up and the psychic ball just grew bigger and bigger.

"Johnny, release!" McKenzie urged, concern showing in his voice. He stepped closer to the youngster.

"I can't move..." Johnny muttered forth. McKenzie shot the ball a glance and felt a headache creeping on him. It was far too big now. It had gone beyond critical mass.

"Oh dear..." McKenzie said silently and jumped without warning against the psychic ball in Johnny's hands. With an enormous amount of will and psychic force, McKenzie tore the ball from Johnny's hand and threw it far away. It flew with a speed McKenzie thought was impossible even for light.

He grabbed the young man around his waist and dove for cover.

The high-energy ball finally hit something and exploded. McKenzie felt his gut churn at the force of the shockwave. He could almost see the blue mushroom cloud the explosion had caused with his psychic vision. Then he felt the sudden silence and opened his eyes. He looked up from behind the rock he'd been crouching with Johnny and felt debris raining down on him. McKenzie also saw the destruction the explosion had caused.

"Okay," he said, raising an eyebrow. "We'll work on that one."

Johnny flopped down on his back, utterly exhausted.

"You alright?" McKenzie asked, looking down on him.

"I'm fine. Just tired," Johnny replied, trying to calm his breathing.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back," McKenzie said but soon realised that this boy was going nowhere, as tired as he seemed.

McKenzie soon reached the crater that the explosion had caused. The earth was scorched black. McKenzie looked around, but couldn't find the bike anywhere.

"Frekk..." he mumbled. "Masterson is going to kill me..." He then saw Plank, resting against the tree where Johnny had put him. 'It,' McKenzie reminded himself. The wooden piece of... wood seemed unharmed, strangely enough, despite the enormous blast. He picked Plank up and walked back to Johnny.

"Well," McKenzie said, handing Plank over to Johnny. "Your friend is alright, but there's not a scrap left of the bike. The ball must've been magnetic, or something..." McKenzie saw Johnny's pained expression.

"I am cooked..." Johnny muttered silently.

"Don't worry about it, Johnny," McKenzie comforted. "I'll take the heat for you. Now, come on, we will be doing good in getting back."

McKenzie picked up the boy in his arms and turned towards where they had come from. This would take a fair amount of his power...

Then he started to run. Using his immense psychic force to augment his human body, McKenzie reached a speed that shouldn't be feasible for a human body. Jessie Owens would've reached it, but not kept it, so to speak.

After a few kilometres, McKenzie's attention was drawn to a Thunderhawk flying overhead. McKenzie saw easily that it was heading towards the same place as him. It was painted in Navy blue, with a golden Imperial Aquila on each side. However, the double eagle was surrounded by nine red dots, which formed a circle. The Master Lexicanum felt puzzled. He had never before seen this insignia.

He thrust on with his mind a little more, reducing friction around him, putting him at a speed that would give a thoroughbred horse a run for its money.

Back at the main camp, the Thunderhawk landed on its designated landing pad. Although not uninvited, it still attracted a large amount of attention. Tanya called up an Honour Guard of Guardsmen and was soon joined by McGranth, Charleston, Demontfurt and the Terrans. As the big transport settled down, Demontfurt called to attention amongst the troopers.

The ramp at the nose of the plane slowly lowered itself down, hydraulics hissing. There was a fair amount of steam blowing around it, revealing it had just left the upper and colder layers of the atmosphere.

A voice was suddenly heard from inside.

"Can't this darned thing open any faster?"

A man appeared at the top of the ramp, trying to squeeze out. The ramp had lowered a few centimetres further when he finally managed to squeeze his lean body through the gap and landed on the ground with a muffled thud. He easily picked himself up and dusted off his coat and the knees of his trousers and then proceeded to walk over to the group of men and women.

Now the Terrans got a good look of him. He was in his mid-twenties, a tad shorter than Tanya and had a slight uppish nose in his handsome face. His hair was light brown, but there was a strange, bluish hue underneath it. The young man was wearing a black tunic and trousers made of wool. On his feet were sturdy military boots, immaculately polished. Over all this he wore a brown long coat that he kept open, but still tied together at the waist.

"Emperor," he sighed, "it's about time I-"

He stopped abruptly the moment he caught sight of the sword in Rolf's hand. Rolf hadn't thought on putting it back after his face-off with Demontfurt. The newly arrived man walked over to Rolf and looked up into the Terran's eyes. Rolf saw that this man had emerald green eyes just like himself.

"So it is true..." the man mumbled and looked down from Rolf's eyes to the Yarrickian sword.

Then, he suddenly bent down on one knee, closed his eyes, took the sword blade in his hand and kissed it. Rolf looked bewildered, but dared not move as he could cut the man.

The young man opened his eyes, got up and walked over to Tanya. Tanya lovingly put both her hands on each side of the man's cheeks and kissed him a few times. It was fairly obvious that the young man didn't enjoy this treatment.

"I've missed you too," he said when Tanya had finished. "Honestly, mother, why couldn't you take two minutes and send me a message and tell me, eh?"

"M-Mother?" McGranth stammered. "Uh..."

Demontfurt saw what was about to happen and pulled himself together. "May I present; Bastion Yarrick, Head of the Civilian High Council."

Everyone present nodded his or her assertion of this mark of rank. Charleston, however, had been having his thoughts elsewhere.

"What are the nine dots around the Aquila for, eh?"

"Oh," Demontfurt said and turned to look at the huge Marine, "those symbolize the nine members of the High Council. A bit like ministers of departments really... If you remember how Moskva was ruled?"

"Oh, believe me," Charleston replied, "I do."

A winded McKenzie jogging into the landing field, Johnny still on his back, interrupted the entire scene. Panting hard to catch his breath, McKenzie put Johnny down. The boy ran over to his cul-de-sac friends immediately, dying to tell them of his training. Rolf was the only one to shy away from him. McKenzie saw it clearly. A tiny feeling at the back of his head told him that McGranth was looking at him intently. McKenzie turned round and faced his commander.

"Do I even want to ask, McKenzie?" McGranth said and sighed.

McKenzie was just about to reply, when McGranth instead received his answer from another part of the compound. It came in the form of a loud yell that echoed against the buildings.

"WHERE IS HE!?"

Demontfurt looked towards where it had come from. He could discern it despite the echoes and he'd heard it before. "Uh oh," he mumbled and bit his lip slightly. "This is the part where you put yourself in safety in a bomb shelter, Master Lexicanum," Demontfurt said, turning to McKenzie.

However, it was too late for that. Masterson came storming up, the large wrench in his hand. McKenzie idly wondered if he'd ever put it down since they'd left. And thinking such idle thought was the only way for him to keep his composure as the burly little commissar walked up and stood with his legs wide apart just in front of McKenzie.

"YOU!" Masterson snarled and slapped the wrench in his hand. It made a wet, pulpy sound as it hit the palm, a sound that made Nazz flinch.

Masterson went out of the stance and stood one foot before the other and held out the wrench towards McKenzie again. The big difference was that this time it actually touched McKenzie's nose. The Master Lexicanum fought hard to keep his cool. Why in the God-Emperor's name was this little man frightening him so? He was himself a Space Marine. He was more than able to pulp his head with his bare hands. He could even do it with his mind only. But still...

"I give you an attack bike," Masterson said slowly, trying to suppress his rage, "and now somebody comes and tells me that you've come walking back into the camp."

"Well... not really walking..." McKenzie admitted.

"SHUT UP!" Masterson snarled. "All I want to know is..." The short commissar made a pause, drew breath and... "WHERE THE HELL IS MY BIKE?"

This sudden burst actually made McKenzie take a step back, losing his precious little composure. Tanya walked up to Masterson now and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tomas, enough!" she said, softly but flatly. "One bike isn't that much, now, is it?"

Masterson turned and looked with flaring eyes on the commissar general. He did in fact lose some of his anger looking into her eyes, but soon regained it with a glance at McKenzie. "It does, to me..." he muttered and fixed McKenzie with a stare that was as warm and friendly as a target laser.

"W-well," McKenzie stammered slightly as he spoke, "you see, Commissar Masterson, there was this minor mishap-"

The Cadet Commissar named Jorun rudely cut off McKenzie’s explanation. The gawky young man ran up to Tanya and ripped off a salute.

"Ma'am," he reported, "we've received a message from the monitoring stations. A Scythe class Harvester ship accompanied by several Jackal class escorts have entered system half an hour ago."

Tanya looked shocked. "Estimated power of land forces?"

"Most certainly around 500 warriors," Jorun said, looking extremely uncomfortable, "but that's excluding Immortals, Destroyers and Tomb Spyders, of course..."

"Of course," Masterson sneered. He hadn't much in stall for Jorun ever reaching commissar rank.

"Where are they heading?" Tanya asked, ignoring Masterson and gently removing the wrench from his hands.

“Callidus, ma'am," Jorun answered. "We only have a few companies of Battle Sisters and-"

"I know full well our forces on Callidus, Jorun!" Tanya snapped. She threw a quick side-ways glance at Bastion. "They could've been able to stand alone..." she muttered. "Colonel-commissar Masterson! Make yourself useful and order a red alert. All able-bodied men and women are to make themselves ready for embarkment within half an hour! We have ourselves a Necron raiding force!"

Masterson left at a jog, shouting order all around him.

Tanya turned to Jorun. "Jorun! ETA of the Necrontyr to Callidus?"

"Four hours, ma'am!" the twitchy cadet replied.

"It's gonna be a tight run, I believe..." Bastion muttered and Tanya nodded.

"Man..." Eddy sighed, "When it rains, it pours..."

Tanya looked up at the assembled men and women. "You should get ready too. There are Thunderhawks for you to board. We'll rendezvous on Mishkin's Pride." With that, the commissar general left them. Demontfurt was also gone, as well as Bastion.

"You'd better do as she orders," Jorun said and showed the thirteen away to another Thunderhawk."

Half an hour later, most of the PDF of Secondus had settled in on transport ships. The Eds and company gathered at the bridge of the huge Vanquisher class battleship; Mishkin's Pride. As promised, Tanya showed up on the battleship, as well as Masterson, Demontfurt and Bastion.

Mishkin's Pride was far from alone. Several small cruisers as well as groups of frigates and destroyers accompanied it. McKenzie looked out one of the many view ports and saw two of the cruisers. A Gothic class and a Tyrant class, he decided. He could even read the names of them. The many lances that distinguished the Gothic class one nearly obscured the name "Sword of Moskva". The Tyrant class was painted black, trimmed with gold, almost invisible against the space. However, the stubby barrels of its numerous plasma batteries glittered in the light from approaching Thunderhawks. But he could still see its name. "Timoschenko’s Will".

"They are beautiful, aren't they not, Master Lexicanum?" a voice said suddenly. McKenzie turned round and saw a tall, powerful man. He was wearing an immaculate admiral's uniform, his red hair cut severe. He had a slightly too heavy nose, which spoiled his otherwise good looks. McKenzie also noticed the rich dialect with its rolling Rs. This man was a born Moskvanian.

"Of course they are, Admiral...?" McKenzie said as he took the man's hand and shook it. He felt a bionic's rigid structure underneath the white glove.

"Ourmnoff," he replied. "Admiral Ivan Ourmnoff."

"Admiral," Tanya said as she strolled up to him, "would mind taking us to Callidus? We have urgent matters there."

"I have heard," Ourmnoff replied. He blew a short, hard whistle, and a long-limbed young man ran up to him, saluting.

"Sir?"

"Lieutenant Romanov, order embarkment for Callidus. They seem to have a... situation there."

"Ay, sir!" The wiry lieutenant set off and gave his orders.

"Now," Ourmnoff turned to Tanya and McKenzie. "Shall we join the others in the briefing room?"

"Of course, my dear admiral," Tanya said and smiled and let the slightly pompous admiral escort her to the briefing room. McKenzie followed behind.

Once inside the briefing room, the eighteen men and women settled down. A servitor drone brought forth a hololithic display for Callidus and Tanya stood up. As she introduced Demontfurt to Ourmnoff, McKenzie was struck by a thought. He leant closer to Ourmnoff when Tanya had finished.

"Excuse me, admiral," he whispered, "that fleet out there is awfully small, for being commanded by an admiral. With all due respect."

"It was a much bigger fleet before the Necrons came. Now, this is what is left of Battle Fleet Moskva."

"Mon Empereur..." McKenzie blew out in a low whistle. He knew precious little low-Armageddonian, but relished in what he knew.

"Gentlemen," Tanya interrupted, "please listen up. We have a battle plan to prepare. We will only have one shot, as you all know."