The rating appeared at his side once more. 'Report' he ordered.

'Sir, we're being hailed'

Leaving the question of the Navigator's state to one side, Korvane asked, 'The Oceanid He doubted, even as he asked, that either of the other two rogue trader vessels would be nearby.

'I cannot tell, sir'

'Why can't you tell, lieutenant?

'Sir, the comms systems appear to have sustained some damage. We have crews working on getting them fully operational. We have short-ranged hailing, but little else'

'Fine' Korvane felt at a major disadvantage with his ship's systems running under capacity, but he would have to make the best of the situation. 'Open a channel, and contact Mykelo'

'Aye sir. the officer said, before ordering the servitor at the comms station to patch through the transmission.

'…vessel. Repeat. Activate identification transponders immediately or be fired upon. You have entered sovereign space and we will fire if you do not identify yourself. Repeat-

Korvane cleared his throat, before announcing, 'This is the rogue trader vessel Rosetta, of the Arcadius. I am Korvane Gerrit of the Arcadius, son of Lucian, heritor of the Arcadius. To whom do I speak?

The channel burbled and whistled for a second or two, before the reply came back, 'Rosetta, this is Epsilon system defence boat Gamma Secondus. You will lock onto our signal and follow us in. Then you will be ferried to the surface, is that understood?

Korvane sighed. He was intensely relieved that they had reached their intended destination of Arris Epsilon. With many of the ship's augur systems still incapacitated he had no clue as to whether his father and stepsister had yet arrived. That, to his mind, put him in a position of authority.

Perhaps, at Arris Epsilon, he could repair some of the damage his stepsister had done at Mundus Chasmata.

'Do as they instruct. he ordered the helmsman, before retiring to his quarters to prepare to board the other vessel.

'Arris Epsilon, my lord.

Korvane looked through the shuttle's cockpit port as the small ship swept through the upper atmosphere of Arris Epsilon: vast, bioluminescent clouds glowed acid yellow and jade green, casting the landscape far below in an actinic, murky half-light.

He nodded to the captain of the security cutter, his mind engaged by conflicting distractions: the need to plan for the coming meeting with this world's leaders, and the need to gather as much information on this world as possible.

The view, which was really quite stunning, was another distraction.

Spotting the smudge of what he assumed was a distant conurbation, Korvane turned to the captain, 'How far to your capital?

The man bowed his head as he communed with the shuttle's machine spirit, his soul intermingling with that of the machine via the consecrated mind impulse cables threaded from the back of his head to the ports behind him.

The captain raised his head, 'Thirty-seven point five. Korvane raised his eyebrows, holding the man's eye. 'Local. he finished, Korvane nodding.

Korvane setded back in his seat, deciding to use the time wisely. He had gathered, from what little conversation had taken place between the security cutter's crew and himself, that an Imperial Commander named Zachary Droon ruled Arris Epsilon. His ancestral seat lay in a range of mountains that bisected the world's main landmass, his capital named Arralow City.

Beyond that, Korvane had scarcely gleaned anything, for the Epsilon security personnel were tight lipped, even for the natives of such a backwater world. It wasn't that they had a problem communicating, for their Low Gothic was uncommonly coherent. They simply didn't communicate very much.

Korvane sighed, inwardly, for to do so out loud would be, to him, an unforgivable rudeness. He looked once more out of the cockpit's port, his eyes tracing the patterns in the vast cloud formations. Many hundreds of kilometres tall, they formed pillars that connected the various strata of Arris Epsilon's atmosphere. The incredibly complex convection currents within each supported entire worlds of microscopic life, or so the captain had informed him. Apparently, it was the only subject on which he was capable of holding forth.

Korvane's mind wandered, casting back to the warp jump from Mundus Chasmata. Before leaving his vessel to board the security cutter, Korvane had ensured that he knew about his Navigator's condition. The adept had been able to speak to him only briefly, but had communicated to him the enormity of what had transpired during the jump. Korvane knew that the adept was talking down to him, speaking in layman's terms, but he had been chilled to the bone by the Navigator's report. The Rosetta, Mykelo had croaked through parched lips, had been struck a glancing blow by… something… in the warp. He knew not what, but likened the event to a small boat cast adrift upon a raging ocean, only to be caught by the passing of a mighty leviathan. The… leviathan… might have been entirely ignorant as the tiny vessel was dashed by its fins, caught in its wake, swept across the ocean, and cast up on unknown shores.

It was only thanks to the skill of Adept Mykelo that, so Korvane gathered, the Rosetta had escaped the thing's embrace, the Navigator dumping the vessel back into real space. By some bizarre chance, perhaps because they were, literally, caught up on the leviathan's back, they had emerged on the outskirts of the system for which they had been making.

Mykelo had cautioned Korvane against welcoming such an event, however, warning him that the cost might have been higher than any could imagine. Mykelo had shivered as he had explained just how fortunate they had been not to have been swept up entirely, to be carried across space and time to the very ends of the universe.

He shook his head, attempting to clear the memory of those terrible seconds within the warp. At least, it had appeared mere seconds, but it might have been minutes, hours or weeks. He might have been locked in his soul scream for decades, his mortal mind only able to comprehend the smallest portion of damnation.

Korvane shook his head again, focusing on the view outside the shuttle in an effort to shed the cold that had descended upon his soul. The vast cloudbanks were receding, and an impossibly tall mountain chain that stretched from one horizon to the other dominated the view. He saw that the line marked the world's current terminator line, the darkness of rapidly descending night all that was visible beyond.

The shuttle swept on, banking to gain height over the rising mountains below. The copper green rocks soon rose to meet them, and Korvane saw that the shuttle was following the meandering course of a valley many dozens of kilometres deep, the bottom of which was wreathed in pulsating silver mist.

Following the course of the valley, Korvane saw that it came to a head amid the mountains above. The shuttle rose, following the valley to its termination in the mountain's crags. More of the silver, inwardly glowing mist wreathed this tallest of mountains, but Korvane soon made out the unmistakable pattern described by racing landing lights.

The shuttle throttled back, bleeding velocity as the pilot brought it expertly in through the coiling mist. It settled upon its landing gear, the captain throwing a bank of switches and disengaging its engines.

Korvane realised as they touched down upon the surface of Arris Epsilon that the future of the Arcadius Dynasty might rest entirely in his hands.

He grinned.

Arralow City, seat of power of Imperial Commander Zachary Droon, was an ancient stone structure, perched precariously atop the highest peak of the mountain range. The chain stretched from the eastern to the western horizons, forming a mighty, jagged and unbroken spine. The valley along which the cutter had approached ran to the south, receding from view as it descended to the mist-wreathed flats below. An immense plain stretched to the north, the bioluminescent cloud formations dancing across its endless surface.