We are trapped.

It was impossible. They had been making headway, tortuously slow, but jump by jump they had been getting closer to their destination. Through persistence and expertise, the Ultramarines had improvised and overcome. Theory had been put into practice.

There were sobs from some of the deck crew.

‘Quiet there,’ the captain chastised, his sharp words swallowed by the tension that now hung over the strategium. ‘Silence on deck.’

His gaze first moved to Nem­etus at the Geller field controls.

‘No incursions, brother-captain,’ the lieutenant told him.

Next, he turned an inquiring look to Praxa­medes. The only response was a shake of the head, reluctant but as foreboding as the single tolling of a bell.

Aeschelus swallowed and took a breath, knowing that he needed to say something. This was a moment that would define his leadership, such as it remained. His next commands would decide the fates of nearly two thousand Space Marines and serfs. What would he tell them? Not to be afraid? They were Ultramarines, human and post-human – they needed no speeches on bravery. To have hope? Hope fixed nothing. Hope was empty in the face of inaction.

So what were they to do?

He delayed, waiting for some further update from Kosa. Aeschelus was loath to ask for more details of their predicament. The summary and all that it implied was damning enough.

We are trapped.

Three words that would drive lesser captains mad with grief. Three words that every warp-faring soul dreaded to hear. Too many were the tales of ships lost adrift in the void. Everybody had heard a story or read a report. Worse still were the accounts of those that returned, ships denuded of their inhabitants or filled with the corpses of crew driven insane enough to slay one another and themselves. The physical support systems could keep them alive for some time but eventually food would run out. What then? The Ithraca’s Vengeance was overstocked but also over-manned, expected to survive alone for years on extended duty if needed. That made the situation seem even worse. Their ability to persist in a state of uselessness only made their entrapment all the harsher.

The strategium doors growled open, breaking the tense silence.

A black-armoured figure entered. Judiciar Admonius. His head was bare, expression grim as he took in the scene, eyes scanning the crew until they fell upon Aeschelus. To arrive so soon after the announcement, Admonius must have been swift to journey to the strategium. Aeschelus knew why the Judiciar was there – to ensure that there was no laxity in leadership or courage at this pivotal time. The captain met the Judiciar’s gaze with all the equanimity he could muster. This was still his ship, and although Admonius could claim moral rank, in practical terms he was seconded to Aeschelus’ company and under his command.