After seeing to Anglia's treatment and confirming that the fleet had settled into steady transit, Lorgar returned to the Bridge.
The tension of battle had faded, replaced by the slightly weary quiet peculiar to a ship underway.
Beyond the vast Observation Window, the stars drifted as they always did. Only the wreckage of Aeldari warships, still burning slowly as it occasionally floated past in the distance, bore silent witness to the brutal battle fought not long before.
Rockefeller, commander of the First Chapter, stood ramrod straight near the Bridge's command dais, like the most loyal of sentries.
His gaze was fixed not on the Star Chart or the tactical displays, but on a figure beside the command seat who looked utterly out of place amid the solemn military surroundings. His expression mingled vigilance with a hint of resignation. That figure was Anastasia.
The visitor from the Dark Age of Technology sat with an almost leisurely air in a seat that should have belonged to a senior officer.
Her slender fingers elegantly held a white porcelain coffee cup, appropriated from some officers' lounge or other, with wisps of steam still rising from its rim.
Her other hand rested casually on the armrest, her long legs crossed, the toe of one simply shod foot tapping gently to some inaudible rhythm.
Through the immense Observation Window, her silver-gray eyes regarded the vast junkyard of Aeldari warship fragments with keen interest.
Lorgar approached at an unhurried pace. His gaze lingered for a moment on the cup in Anastasia's hand, and a faint, almost absurd flicker of surprise crossed his normally composed face.
He stopped and broke the silence, a barely perceptible note of inquiry in his voice:
"You... need to consume food and water?" Lorgar asked, curious.
At his voice, Anastasia slowly turned her