In the Persephone System, ships that had leapt from the Warp gathered in the void.
Hull after crenellated hull and towering ship-shadow moved slowly through the silent darkness, forming a vast architectural complex.
Their enormous prows all faced the same direction, plasma flames carving turbulent, dazzling streams through the void.
The ship leading the fleet was pitch-black from end to end. Letters as tall as ordinary men were etched across its plow-shaped prow, the long inscription calling to mind mankind's Golden Age.
The Legion emblem on the port side was like the ship's own shadow, while its name was carved into the starboard hull in blood-red Gothic—Void Hunter.
On the strategium table of the bridge, a hologram gradually took shape, outlining the form of the Joegall world-ship.
It was a massive cylinder several kilometers long, the engine-cluster end swelling out hugely, while the prow end was short, stubby, and narrow.
Around it were teardrop-shaped ships, forty-three in all.
Nimrod took in the shifting data across dozens of surrounding display screens, completed his analysis in moments, then began issuing rapid orders.
"Use the Void Hunter's range advantage to strike the xenos escort vessels."
"Order all boarding parties to prepare."
"Although the air the Joegall breathe contains oxygen and nitrogen, as well as high concentrations of chlorine, your helmets will protect you."
The Primarch paused, then spoke in a joking tone to Jorginho and the other Shadow of Order warriors who had only recently become Astartes.
"Do not worry. Even if you are unlucky and your helmets are broken, the lungs of an Astartes can overcome the toxins."
He raised his left hand and tapped lightly on the holographic image.
"Pass down the order. The Thousand Sons' objective is the power center of the cylindrical world."
"The Faceless Ones and the Legion's