Praxa­medes tore the scribe-copy of the collated augur data from its slot and gave it a cursory glance. As expected, all that could be found were the after-flares of the battle with the enemy ship and the flight tails of its fleeing escorts.

‘Void is clear, captain,’ Praxa­medes called across the bridge.

Aeschelus turned, striding back to his position in front of the main display. ‘Very good, brother-lieutenant. Flight paths are locked in?’

‘Yes, brother-captain.’ Praxa­medes crossed to the display controls and overlaid the tactical grid onto the live feed. Dotted lines of three gunship routes cut across the intervening space, splitting up to present no single target for anti-assault craft turrets, coming together at the last few miles for a final run on the starboard side of the target, just aft of the control bridge. ‘Embarkation complete. Boarding parties are ready for launch.’

‘Gunnery crews stand to!’

Aeschelus’ shout was picked up by the strategium systems and transmitted across the whole ship. He could have voxed the orders to the individual stations but public address allowed everyone on board to follow the progress of the operation.

‘Open launch bays!’

A schematic of the Ithraca’s Vengeance changed state at the bottom of the screen. Weapons batteries cycled through orange to green as they came on line, the magazine halls following suit a few seconds later. In contrast, the starboard and port launch decks turned amber as hull integrity was relinquished, the bay openings held by energy screens only.

‘Commence preparatory bombardment!’

The schematic lit up again, bright flares of energy as the cannons opened fire, even as the rumble of their discharge shook through the deck. Trails of plasma and fire sparked across the dark void to smash into the upper decks of the target vessel. Debris scattered like leaves in a wind, lit by bright moments of destruction.

‘Launch boarding parties!’

Against the backdrop of fury unleashed by the weapons of the Ithraca’s Vengeance, three gunships powered across the void. They were almost insignificant against the bulk of the strike cruiser and its target. The spark of their engines was lost in the blaze of weapon batteries and bombardment cannon, their blue hulls lit by the flare of impacts, deto­nations flashing in the reflection from armourglass windows.

Through the canopy of the lead gunship’s command deck, Nem­etus watched the firepower display with a grim smile. He tracked the course of shells ripping aftwards along the closest weapon decks of the foe, turning thick armour to ragged shreds of ceramite and pulverised plasteel. The rhythm of rapid gun deck impacts was punctuated by the larger, slower hits of the cruiser’s dorsal cannon, each building-sized shell obliterating a buttressed gun housing or tearing away a length of decking.

There was no return fire.