Nem­etus waited at the warp engine controls while Praxa­medes oversaw the Geller field. This was the kind of patient, diligent work that the other lieutenant did not embrace. Praxa­medes had taken some time to explain to his fellow officer that there was only the smallest margin of error for the sequence of events that had to happen during each translation. Holding off for just a bit more time, or urging the tech-priests to get a little more power out of the reactors, or following an instinct to make a tiny course correction were all forbidden. Nem­etus had protested his innocence of any such thoughts and thankfully had so far been true to his promise not to improvise any part of the process.

‘Thirty seconds,’ declared Praxa­medes.

‘Redirect core power to warp engines,’ announced the captain.

‘Redirecting,’ confirmed Nem­etus.

The throb of the ship changed almost imperceptibly.

Aeschelus waited until the twenty-five-second mark.

‘Bring engine output down to seventy-five per cent. Make headway full.’

The navigational officers did as commanded, eliciting another change in the tone of the ship’s background noise.

‘Transferring warp engine control to navigational pilaster,’ declared Nem­etus. ‘All systems nominal.’

Praxa­medes drew in a breath, a little longer than normal, just as he had done before each previous jump. He didn’t want to change a single thing about the routine, and stood in exactly the same spot, every crew member assigned to the same positions. He started speaking as the chronometer flickered down to twenty seconds.

‘Geller field generators on line. Ready to engage.’

‘All decks secured for warp translation,’ confirmed Shipmaster Oloris. ‘Void shields inactive. Navigational shields inactive.’

As he spoke the main videolith blanked, turning to a slate-grey slab on the wall. All across the Ithraca’s Vengeance warp shutters clanked across any external ports, while visual feeds were disabled. Any energy output that might interfere with the Geller field or warp drive was curtailed, dulling sensors and deadening manoeuvring thrusters. A moment of fragility before translation.

‘Activate Geller fields,’ commanded Aeschelus, giving a nod to Praxa­medes.

The lieutenant did not need to relay the order; his attendants knew what to do. Controls whined into life at their touch. The augur banks fell dark as the Geller field activated, psychically charged waves pulsing from the generator located deep within the ship. Its effect was slight while in realspace, a momentary tension, like a tightening in the throat before a cough. Blind, the Ithraca’s Vengeance ploughed on across the void in its own self-contained reality.

‘Warp drop in five seconds,’ Nem­etus called out, hand hovering over the activation switches. He flicked the priming lever, eyes fixed on the small countdown display set within the controls. ‘Three… Two… One…’