Suddenly it became clear. Praxa­medes had spent a year in charge of a fast-response frigate, but otherwise had always been beneath the pinnacle of the ship hierarchy. It hadn’t occurred to him that there was a degree of pride to be taken in operating outside the conventional fleet command system. Aeschelus’ determination to make a significant contribution to the effort was a way of proving himself worthy of that independence.

‘You had another vision?’ the lieutenant said, looking at Fedualis to change the subject of conversation. It would give the captain a little more time to absorb the facts of their new assignment.

The astropath had been watching the exchange in silence, strained from the effort of releasing the psychic message. He took a moment before responding, caught out by the question.

‘Ah, yes, a fragmentary burst. Almost missed it among the froth and churn around us.’ Fedualis fidgeted with his cuffs. ‘Disturbing, but inconclusive.’

‘Origin?’ said Aeschelus.

‘The Casparill System, I think. As I say, it’s very choppy, not so much a deliberate broadcast as a shared-dream.’ The life seemed to drain from his face as he continued, ‘It ends abruptly, which is to say it seems highly likely the origin was cut off during transmission.’

‘The astropath was killed?’ said Praxa­medes.

‘Astropaths,’ corrected Fedualis, swallowing hard. ‘Two of them. They soul-linked, in desperation. Strange that it was not the full choir. I can feel both of them, but there is an odd flatness about it. No texture. Like watching a scene reflected on armourglass.’

‘But it was a call for help?’ said Aeschelus, moving closer, taking notice of the conversation after a few moments of detachment. ‘The Casparill System, you said.’

‘Thereabouts,’ the astropath replied uncertainly. ‘And it felt more like a warning. Scared. Terrified, in fact.’

Aeschelus stepped towards the secondary navigation terminal.

‘Ninety light years from our last confirmed position, brother-captain,’ said Praxa­medes, guessing his superior’s intent. Aeschelus looked surprised at the volunteered information. Praxa­medes smiled briefly. ‘I’ve had quite a bit of time to study the charts of the neighbouring sectors closely…’

‘The distortion, captain, does not bode well.’ Fedualis stepped up to the small, blank hololith table and placed his hands on the glassy surface. He moved them outwards, as though parting water. ‘A reflection, perhaps. Casparill might not be the originating system at all, just where it met some kind of warp lens and bounced in a strange way.’

‘I need to hear it,’ said Aeschelus.

‘There is nothing of substance, captain.’ The astropath retreated from the Space Marine, alarmed at the suggestion. ‘It could be centuries old.’

‘Or days. I want to hear it for myself. Can you do that?’

Fedualis looked as though he might decline but then relented, shoulders sagging. He darted a look of appeal at Praxa­medes, eye sockets empty but still full of emotion. The lieutenant had nothing to offer him.

‘Very well, captain.’