"Coordinates! Exact coordinates! Grom, stop fobbing me off with your drunken evasions! Where in the Galaxy is that damned, complete STC?!" Lorgar's voice echoed beneath the Bridge's towering observation dome.
His enormous body leaned forward slightly, his shadow almost completely engulfing the diminutive mechanical Dwarf.
Grom, a Dwarf who reeked of a mixture of machine oil, ozone, and aged Dwarf spirits, was hunched over the Star Chart's control console.
His arms moved faster than ever, tapping the runic keyboard and adjusting the Star Chart's parameters. Every so often, he took a sip from the metal flask at his waist and gave a satisfied gurgle.
In response to Lorgar's urging, he merely muttered a few indistinct words in a Dwarf tongue no one else understood, but his hands never stopped moving.
"Nearly there, nearly there... honored Primarch, patience is a virtue, and more importantly, the key to accurate data... hic... let me awaken these fragments of ancient memory. They sleep... uh... deep within my mind, mixed up with triple-distilled Gromni Rum..." Grom's drunken voice rang out.
At last, after a flurry of keystrokes as dense as rainfall and several baffling interface connections that sent sparks flying, the blurred shadow on the Star Chart representing unknown territory began to fluctuate violently and come into focus.
Interwoven stellar routes, anomalous gravitational tide zones, signals from the wreckage of ancient survey beacons...
Countless points of light, lines, and warning symbols overlapped in layer upon layer. Finally, a dazzling, incessantly flashing crimson coordinate marker was pinned like a wound to a spot in the vast Sea of Stars.
Lorgar held his breath and strode up to the Star Chart table. The oppressive presence of his massive body sent the nearby Servo-skulls fluttering farther away in alarm.
He stared hard at the highlighted area, followed the