He flicked the final signal switch. In the heart of the engine decks, the tech-priests flooded the warp drive with power from the plasma reactors. Like the Geller field, it was not so much a physical process as a psychic one, the technologies barely understood by those on board, even the Navigators. Fronds of energy leapt out from the cruiser, tearing at the fabric of reality. Realspace parted with a kaleidoscope of colours, strange rainbow flashes that Praxa­medes could feel rather than see, even though he was inside the shuttered confines of the strategium. A few murmurs broke the stillness. For even the most disciplined crew it was impossible to completely eradicate all sense of unease or discomfort.

Like a serpent shedding an old skin, the strike cruiser sloughed away the last remnants of space-time and plunged through the opening rift into warp space. The laws of nature gave way to unfettered emotion given substance, the physical falling away to the psychic. Protected only by the pocket of sanctuary sanity it dragged with it, the Ithraca’s Vengeance crashed into a realm of nightmare and madness.

‘Warp translation complete,’ a servitor announced dully from beside Praxa­medes, its mind-scrubbed brain incapable of appreciating the import or drama of the moment.

The intervox chimed as an announcement came through from Kosa in the Navigator’s tower, thrust up from the dorsal decks into the warp like a lightning conductor in a storm.

‘I have con–’ the Navigator began, before her words were cut short by a shout of panic. Warning sigils flared across the warp engine controls in front of Praxa­medes and the servitors started barking in unison with dry voices.

‘Negative warp traction. Negative warp traction. Negative warp traction.’

Non-vocal alarms accompanied the warnings, blaring out across the vox-net until Praxa­medes silenced them with a depressed button.

‘Cease,’ he told the servitors.

‘Kosa!’ barked Aeschelus, striding across to the warp engine controls. The displays bathed the attendants and servitors in red light. ‘Kosa, make your report!’

Other than the alerts from the console there was no sense of what was happening. Praxa­medes could only approximate the situation from the readings, which were changing too rapidly to individually follow.

‘We’re sliding, captain,’ the lieutenant announced, fingers moving across the runepad to bring up a read-out of the last few seconds of data. ‘Fast.’

‘Captain, the warp effect…’ Kosa’s voice trailed off, replaced by half-heard muttering before the Navigator continued. ‘It is impossible! There is no warp here.’

‘Nonsense,’ growled the captain. ‘What do you mean, Navigator?’

‘We are beyond the Impossibility Boundary but I cannot see the Astronomican,’ whispered Kosa, her voice taut with awe. ‘The warp is flattened. Not even a mirror. Like vacuum. Empty.’

‘Rotational momentum detected. We are spinning, captain,’ said Praxa­medes.

‘Geller field still nominal, brothers,’ said Nem­etus, leaving his position to join them. ‘In fact, it is operating at one hundred and forty per cent efficiency.’