Travel through the Warp had never been comfortable, and that was especially true for the Dawn expeditionary fleet.
On the bridge of the Unyielding Spirit, Horus silently watched the bizarre, ever-shifting immaterial ocean beyond the viewport.
Several standard Terran weeks had passed since they left Zelanis. The early stages of the voyage had been unusually smooth, but as the fleet approached the corridor of death known as the Nachmund Gauntlet, that ease gradually faded.
"Warmaster."
A voice as steady as a mountain sounded behind him. Alcato, captain of the Imperial Fists' Seventh Company, strode to Horus's side in his signature yellow power armour. His face still wore its unchanging expression of sternness, as though carved from granite.
"The star chart data has been updated. Our estimated journey to Vigilus is another seven cycles. But..." Alcato paused, a barely perceptible trace of puzzlement in his voice. "The Navigators report that the way ahead is too calm."
"Calm?" Horus raised an eyebrow and turned. A glimmer of insight shone in his deep eyes. "In the Warp, calm is hardly a good word."
"Yes." Alcato nodded and brought up a tactical projection before him. "Like the dead silence before a storm. All the psychic undercurrents have vanished, and the route has become a straight glass tube. According to the Third Company's Navigator, it feels as though some immense being has smoothed away every ripple ahead with its hand."
The other officers on the bridge gathered around as well. Al Khan, a Centurion of the White Scars, said with a grin, "Perhaps some hospitable host has cleared the way for us and prepared a grand welcome party?"
"I'm more inclined to think it's a beast preparing to swallow us, opening its smooth gullet." Kaldia, the Raven Guard commander and captain of the Shadowblade Company,