Two figures chased each other through the stars, one a streak of gold, the other blazing blue, leaving two intersecting trails through the boundless darkness.
Sanguinius flew swiftly ahead. Every beat of his wings stirred a faint ripple of gravity through the vacuum. His speed had long since surpassed the limits of physical law; even starlight could no longer catch his wings.
But behind him, Ferrus Manus was accelerating too. Propelled by his jump pack, his body of steel and liquid metal steadily closed the distance to Sanguinius.
Sanguinius could feel that oppressive presence drawing closer, but he did not look back. His gaze pierced the vast starfield, fixed on the frontier of the Five Hundred Worlds marked by his coordinates.
He had to draw Ferrus Manus out of that familiar data network, into a place that could not be read in real time or predicted by the system. Then, in that wasteland, he would shatter this steel shell alone.
"A futile struggle, Sanguinius."
Ferrus Manus's voice came from behind, mechanically steady, yet carrying a faint hint of mockery.
He drew ever closer to Sanguinius, his system calculating Sanguinius's trajectory at high speed, constantly correcting his course and predicting the next change of direction.
In his logical projections, Sanguinius's patterns of movement were already an open book, every page clearly annotated with numbers and models.
Sanguinius ignored his attempts to distract him.
His gaze locked onto a gray-brown planet at the edge of his vision. It was a death world, its surface covered by alternating stretches of ice and desert. There was no trace of life, only exposed rock and howling winds sweeping over weathered ground.
Without hesitation, Sanguinius adjusted his angle and abruptly folded his wings, plunging toward the planet's surface like a golden meteor.
Ferrus Manus followed without