Ashava does not exclaim, or take a sharp breath. She just lets me speak.

‘I have tried again and again, but nothing visits me when I close my eyes save for emptiness.’ On saying it, I see it again. The pure darkness that awaits behind my closed eyes. A deceitful nothing, just like I felt upon waking after Ophelia VII.

‘I have not seen Dimmamar, or the Shield,’ I tell her. ‘I have seen no more signs.’

Ashava tilts her head. ‘Perhaps you are merely looking in the wrong place,’ she says.

We approach a crossway in the corridor, then. Left leads to the docking bays. Right to the starboard batteries. Ashava and I are to go on ahead, straight on towards the Vow’s expansive Navigation quarter, the forecastle and the bridge, but our way is blocked by two Navy security personnel clad in well-maintained blue carapace plate with lascarbines slung across their chests.

‘Hail, Sisters,’ the first of them says, as we approach.

He is unhelmed, scarred and sallow, with dark shadows under his deep-set eyes. The hand resting on his carbine’s stock is a scuffed, plated augmetic. The name stencilled in neat letters on his armour plate says Pvt. Sandir, A.

‘Apologies,’ he says, holding up his other hand. ‘But the way is closed.’ This close, I can see that Sandir’s uniform is crumpled under his carapace.

‘Why?’ I ask.

The second guard steps forward. She is also unhelmed. Her name is marked as Ligues, and the bars on her carapace indicate that she holds rank. Her skin is sandy and freckled, her hair a tidy crest of curls. Ligues’ uniform is neater than Sandir’s, but the shadows under her eyes are just as dark.

‘There’s been an incident,’ she says. ‘The shipmaster has ordered the way closed.’

‘What sort of incident?’ Ashava asks.

Ligues’ face colours a little, as if in unease. ‘A death,’ she says.

Ashava frowns. ‘An accident?’ she asks.

Ligues shifts her weight. ‘No,’ she says stiffly.

‘Is the corridor impassable?’ I ask.

‘No, my lady.’

‘Then it is not closed,’ I reply. ‘Not to us.’

There is a moment of silence, but then Ligues bows her head. ‘Of course,’ she says, and she steps aside. Sandir parts the temporary barricades and then steps aside too. Before we can pass, though, Sandir speaks.

‘Apologies,’ he says, again. ‘But may I ask a question?’

I stop. ‘Yes, of course.’

He looks up at me. ‘You are Sister Evangeline, aren’t you?’

The Vow seems quiet then, as if it too is waiting for me to answer.

‘Yes,’ I tell him.

Sandir’s tired eyes widen, just a fraction. He puts his augmetic hand to his chest by way of a salute.

‘God-Emperor go with you, blessed Sister,’ he says. ‘Praise be to Him.’

Ligues does the same. My scars prickle under their attention. Under their devotion.