The pilot, Oria Kayle, stood waiting beneath the shuttle's wings. A tall man in his thirties, Kayle was the latest of a long line that had served the Arcadius faithfully for many centuries. Lucian's father had awarded the Orias the status of freeman for his part in saving the Oceanid from alien infiltration during the De-Norm Extermination. Oria's father had accepted the promotion in status, yet remained to serve the Arcadius, pledging his line willingly and proudly to voluntary service. Lucian was grateful he had, for the Kayles bred pilots without compare.

Kayle threw a smart salute as Lucian approached, the bundle of cables hanging loose from the left side of his forehead shaking as he did so.

'Is she ready, Oria? Lucian cast a professional eye over the shuttle, seeing for himself in an instant that she was.

'Yes my lord. All preparations are complete. Our flight plan is registered and we can launch as soon as you give the order'

'It'll be a rough drop. You're sure she's up to it? Lucian harboured no doubts regarding his pilot's skill or the preparations invested in the shuttle, but knew the risks of the landing they were about to undertake. The atmospheric conditions were appalling, and the data on the landing zone incomplete.

'My lord, if your order is to land upon the surface of Sigma Q-77, then this will happen. I pledge it upon my family's honour. You have my word.

Lucian nodded. He needed no more, for he knew the pilot's word was as good as his own. 'What are we hanging about here for then? He smiled. 'Let's go.

The storm-wracked skies of Sigma Q-77 filled the porthole at Lucian's side, the view shaking violently as the shuttle hurtled through the thin, upper atmosphere. Although compensated for by the shuttle's systems, the violence of the drop was notable. Lucian could feel the heat building up, his power armour's own mechanisms fighting to counter it.

Kayle's voice sounded in Lucian's ear, carried by the ships intercom yet crackling and distorted as if transmitted across light years of space. 'Passing through the ionosphere now, my lord. There appears to have been some recent solar activity, so I expect some plasma damage. Nothing we can't handle though. The Emperor protects.

'The Emperor protects. Lucian echoed. The shuttle bucked violently, throwing Lucian's head against the padded seatback. The shaking increased and the temperature rose noticeably. The upper atmosphere of Sigma Q-77 now completely filled the port, and Lucian could make out the patterns of the raging storm clouds, angry white, violet and grey. Mighty energy discharges arced across the skies, back lighting banks of clouds many hundreds of kilometres across.

The clouds loomed, and rose impossibly fast to swallow the shuttle. The viewing port was swamped, the clouds so dense that only the strobing lightning was visible. The shaking increased still further, made violent and jarring by the additional friction generated as the shuttle screamed through the high clouds.

Kayle's voice sounded once more. 'My lord, we're approaching a rough- He was cut off as the shuttle lurched upwards, only to plummet what felt to Lucian like several kilometres in the span of mere seconds. This was shaping up to be a rough drop, thought Lucian, perhaps as rough as the Kalpurnican Interface. He gritted his teem against a second lurch, and a further plunge that exceeded even the first.

Except this second drop in altitude brought the shuttle out below the cloud layer, and Lucian was afforded a view of the surface of Sigma Q-77. Under raging skies, a ground the colour of rust rushed up to meet them. Kayle adjusted the shuttle's vector, bringing them in on a slow, rounded dive that shed velocity startlingly fast. The shaking and vibrating abated, leaving the shuttle buffeted by high altitude winds, but otherwise unmolested.

Lucian loosened the harness that had kept him secure during the worst of the drop, and activated the intercom. 'My compliments, Oria, how are we looking?

Lucian could hear the relief as Kayle responded, the channel now clear of distortion. 'My thanks, my lord. That was… testing. No appreciable damage, but the vessel's war spirit is much displeased with its handling as we crossed into the troposphere. I fear I may be required to make contrition upon our return, my lord.

Lucian grinned wryly at Kayle's understatement. He knew the pilot would be ministering to the shuttle's machine spirit for many long hours upon their return, seeking its forgiveness for its mistreatment. 'Do what you must, Oria, but first get us back safely.

'Aye, sir, we approach the landing site now.

'Well enough, Mister Kayle. Bring us down'

The meteorospex readout informed Lucian that the atmosphere outside the shuttle was, as Luneberg's information had stated, breathable. It contained a high level of airborne hydrocarbons however, and Lucian took the precaution of inserting miniaturised filtration plugs into the back of his throat. These would allow him to breathe even if the atmosphere became dangerously toxic, although they would be of no use should oxygen levels drop below a breathable threshold.

Checking his auspex was operational and the coordinates for the meeting with Luneberg's contact locked in, Lucian activated the lock. The seal broke, and the ramp lowered, oxide dust blowing into the small compartment before the ramp was fully lowered.

The surface of Sigma Q-77 was every bit as inviting as it had appeared from orbit, and far above, deep purple and grey clouds trailed across the sky, livid violet lightning arcing between them. The ground was barren and cratered, deep oxide red, yet cast a ghostly hue by the lightning. A cold wind howled, its touch chilling Lucian's face and its shrieking filling his ears.

Although hostile, the terrain barely registered with Lucian, for he had visited scores of worlds in his career, many far, far stranger and more inhospitable than Sigma Q-77. Over the millennia, the Arcadius had developed a sixth sense when it came to new worlds, an intuitive skill passed down from father to son, demonstrated rather than taught, felt rather than reasoned.

Every world had a feel. Whether you landed first upon arid equatorial desert, tropical island chain or frozen tundra, Lucian knew that each world had its own character, quite apart and distinct from mere terrain or weather. Some Lucian had visited felt welcoming, fecund, and ripe for exploitation. Others were instantly hostile, as if aware that the coming of strangers would change its fate forever. Lucian had read accounts of worlds that his ancestors swore blind manifested an actual, malefic intelligence, rejecting their presence with every asset at its disposal, from weather to flora and fauna.

Lucian paused before stepping out onto the dusty ground. The feel of this world immediately struck him: it felt… it felt wrong.

Rounding an outcropping of rock worn into a twisted archway by aeons of erosion, Lucian saw that Korvane and Brielle had arrived at the rendezvous point ahead of him. He was glad, for the planet had about it a deathly air, and every moment he had spent trudging through the dust towards the meeting point had seen him grow steadily more ill at ease.

Korvane was standing, scanning the horizon through magnoculars, while his sister sat on a rock some distance from him, her discomfort obvious. Both wore armoured bodysuits in the colours of the Arcadius, although neither was as ornate as that he himself wore as head of the family.

Brielle looked up, hearing her father's footsteps crunching towards them. She stood as Korvane turned and saw Lucian too.

The three having exchanged greetings, Lucian asked his offspring, 'What do you make of this world?

Korvane answered first, consulting his data-slate as he spoke. 'I'm surprised that Lord Luneberg's agents encountered natives here, Father. The archives make no mention of a colony here, and I can't imagine it harbouring autochthonic forms unless-