If I had been impressed by Blight’s chambers before, I was even more so on the second visit, for it turned out that the room in which we had seen him was merely an antechamber, used for conducting business. His apartments were as large as any in the palace on Emperor’s Glory and even more luxurious.
Luxurious divans, upon which Macharius, Zarah Belisarius and Blight lounged, were everywhere. Robed and masked servants brought drinks and food.
Blight raised a glass to good fortune on their voyage, the Lady Belisarius to a safe passage, and Macharius wished them both prosperity. After the formal toasts were completed, Zarah Belisarius said, ‘So you seek to make an alliance with the Wolves of Space.’
Macharius smiled at her. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘We of House Belisarius have ways of hearing about such things. You talked with them on Emperor’s Glory. A halo of prophecy and legend already forms around you. What else could you be looking for?’
‘Who else is aware of your speculation?’ Macharius asked. His voice was very calm, but I had known him long enough to hear the dangerous undercurrents in it. I was not the only one.
‘No one I can be certain of except Lord Blight,’ said Zarah Belisarius. ‘And my cousin Raymond.’
‘Let us say I seek an understanding with them,’ said Macharius. ‘Are you prepared for the passage to Procrastes?’
The fact that he wanted to change the subject was not lost on her. ‘Yes. I am ready.’ She sounded confident.
‘Do you think there is the possibility of anyone being able to follow us?’
‘It is a difficult passage, and no ship with a Navigator aboard skilled enough to plot the transit has been in-system this past few months. I have checked,’ she said. ‘There are not so many great Navigators in the Imperium that I would not learn of their being in the sector. Are you worried about us being followed?’
Macharius shook his head. Zarah Belisarius considered things for a moment. ‘Of course the Space Wolves vessel would be guided by someone competent to make the jump.’
‘That possibility does not trouble me. I am more concerned with the eldar when we arrive.’
‘If we are attacked I can assure you that The Pride of Terra is capable of handling even a fully armed Imperial battleship,’ said Blight. ‘We will not be arriving crippled like your previous vessel, either. We are prepared for anything. With this ship we could take a planet.’
‘Master Blight is correct,’ said the Navigator. ‘This is an excellent ship for the purpose of your voyage, none better in the sector.’
‘Let us hope you are right,’ said Macharius. I was surprised to hear him express such doubts. It was unlike him. Then again, he did not appreciate being in any situation where he was not totally and utterly in control.
‘You will be talking with the Space Wolves en route?’ Blight asked. He was obviously curious. ‘You must have much to plan.’
‘There will be discussions,’ said Macharius, avoiding the question. ‘Plans will have to be deferred until we see what awaits us.’
‘To the success of your plans, then,’ said Blight, raising his glass. They drank to that.
The Pride of Terra emerged from the warp. We were all relieved. In our heart of hearts I think we had all been dreading the possibility of another misjump. No sooner had we arrived than Macharius made his way to the command deck.
Zarah Belisarius and the rogue trader both watched him approach.
‘It is done?’ Macharius said.
‘Done, and done well. We have arrived at the exact coordinates you gave us. Preliminary divinatory sweeps have revealed traces of wreckage, most likely relics of your previous encounter.’
The Navigator looked pale and drained. She was unsteady as she rose to her feet. ‘It was not the easiest of trips,’ she said. ‘There is something about this system that disturbs the currents of the empyrean. The storm seems to be getting stronger. It would be as well to conclude your business here as quickly as possible and be gone. If the storm intensifies further a safe departure may be impossible.’
‘How long do we have?’ Macharius asked. I could see he was already beginning to plan his campaign. He wanted to know exactly how much time was left.
‘A week, at most,’ said the Navigator. ‘I would not want to leave it much longer than that.’
‘We must head in-system as soon as possible,’ said Macharius.
‘I have already laid the course,’ said Helicon Blight.
One of the deck officers said, ‘Lord captain, we are picking up traces of xenos ships. They are on an interception course.’
‘Best strap yourselves in,’ said Blight. He indicated rows of empty seats around the edge of the command deck. ‘It will be a few hours till we are within range, and then things are likely to get hairy.’
‘We must be ready to be boarded,’ said Macharius. Blight grinned.
‘They will not get close enough to board us, Lord High Commander.’ Macharius did not answer. He strapped himself in and waited. We all did the same.
It is an odd and eerie thing to sit on the command deck of a warship during a space battle. Nothing much seems to happen. Officers speak to each other in a clipped fashion. Small lights change vectors within holospheres. Occasionally, you feel a ripple of strangeness as the ship changes direction and the artificial gravity compensates. When things are going well there is no sensation at all, really. When things go badly…
Blight sat on his throne and ordered fighters deployed. The only sign his command was obeyed was when a number of small green dots appeared on the holosphere in front of him, moving on collision course with the incoming eldar.
Occasionally one of his officers would reel off a stream of technical chant and he would respond with a one- or two-word command. ‘Fire,’ or ‘Check,’ or ‘Prepare control.’ I had no idea what he meant, but I felt sure something was happening. In the holosphere things changed colour or vanished. Although no signs were given, out there men and xenos were dying, ancient vessels were being vaporised, terrible things were taking place.
Macharius watched everything keenly, interested as ever in any aspect of warfare. I wondered what he made of this strange silent struggle, in which moves were plotted out long in advance between ships incalculable distances apart.
He probably grasped it instinctively as he did everything connected with warfare, but I could tell he was not enjoying himself. The fingers of his right hand drummed on the arms of the chair into which he had been strapped. Possibly, like me, he was waiting for the familiar shudder that would tell the ship had been hit, or the flicker of lights that would tell we had lost a generator. There was not much consolation to be had from the thought that if we took a direct hit to the command deck we would never know. We would be walking in the Emperor’s Light before we even knew we were dead.
I forced myself to breathe slowly even though I dreaded that each intake of air might be my last. I was all too aware of the sickness in my stomach and the pounding of my heart against my ribs. I told myself that this nauseating fear was a good thing, that at least it was letting me know I was still alive, but it was hard to convince myself of the truth of it. As always, I found myself wishing that we were on the ground, with weapons in our hands and some say over our fates. The simple act of waiting was terrifying.
Eventually, Blight smiled, looked up and clapped his hands. I noticed there was some small difference in the dance of lights in the holosphere. The red dots were retreating, the green ones were returning towards the centre.
‘It is done,’ said the rogue trader. ‘They are in retreat. Victory is ours. We’ll be in orbit over the target within twelve hours.’