The hiss of the strategium doors drew Praxa­medes’ attention to the arrival of Captain Aeschelus. It was not yet time for the lieutenant to step down from watch; nearly thirty minutes remained before Aeschelus was due to stand as command officer. Praxa­medes said nothing as his superior started a slow circuit of the stations, inspecting each in turn. Some of the deck officers cast glances at the captain, confused by his unexpected perusal.

Here and there, Aeschelus muttered some comment or slight rebuke about a terminal or its officer. Of late he had withdrawn into himself, stern and critical of the smallest error. His presence on the strategium was like the foreshadowing of a storm that never quite broke, a build of tension that never found release. The deck officers were diligent and loyal but Praxa­medes could see that the unnecessary scrutiny and stress was beginning to take its toll.

It was true across other areas of the ship too. The captain’s mood, restrained as it was, influenced everything aboard Ithraca’s Vengeance, from the command bridge to the engines to the gun decks and all between. The lack of action that nagged at him was beginning to wear on the battle-brothers too. It was quite extraordinary that they had encountered no opposition since the Despoiler-class ship. No relent from the monotony of each other’s company, nor from the roving eye of Aeschelus seeking any small infraction to provide a momentary break from the tedium.

‘Brother-captain?’ Praxa­medes stepped away from the command throne to intercept his superior before he arrived at the vox console. ‘Is anything amiss?’

‘Nothing,’ growled Aeschelus. He looked at Praxa­medes with a grimace. ‘Other than the obvious.’

‘It’s quite inexplicable, brother-captain.’ The lieutenant stepped back towards the command position and Aeschelus moved with him. ‘You can be assured that I’ll notify you immediately if there’s anything of import.’

‘I would rather spend my time here than rotting away in that chamber,’ sighed the captain, folding his arms across his barrel chest. ‘I heard over the vox that Fedualis is due to make a report, yes?’

‘The astropath is on his way. It’s probably only routine communications.’

Aeschelus rumbled a non-committal reply in his throat.

‘On a positive note, the Navigators are making better speed, brother-captain,’ Praxa­medes said, feeling the need to fill the grim silence left by his superior. ‘They say we are approaching the Alekra System, crossing over into the Hyperio-Prime Sector.’

Aeschelus grunted his acceptance of this comment but offered nothing else. He sat down in the command throne, though he had not officially dismissed Praxa­medes from the watch. The lieutenant wondered if he should volunteer this fact and decided against it – though he was not as affected by the inaction as his superior, he was not wholly immune to the lack of duties.