[b]Vael![/b]

The daemon snapped silent again, this time with a pouting air.

"Lord," said S. Reikler, stepping forwards and bowing. She was the latest brave soul to step into the position of your apprentice. Her kind never lasted very long - the greedy, grasping children that they were - but she had at least survived long enough for you to vaguely remember one of her names, which put her a little above the average. She had at least picked up on the basic point that fashion was secondary to safety - her bulky robes were designed in such a way as to maximize the unfolded space for protective runes. It made her look a bit like an ambulatory cardboard box, but she had not been eaten by your astrolobe yet and that itself was an achievement.

"The Warmaster's demands were, uh, 'Convince the Scribes to continue the war, or take their armies from them and do so yourself'. Sorry for interrupting, lord. Do you want me to ask the Mechanicum to begin manufacture on seismic bombs?"

[b]Leuric![/b]

Mme. Dizzy nodded serenely. You got the impression that something in her background had prepared her exactly for conversations with you. "Of course, lord. One other question: What shall we do if we are attacked? One cannot imagine that anyone hiding in orbit will not be drawn by your splendid approach."

Void War was slow. You could watch the point-defense projectiles fired by the Maw hang in the air for long minutes at a time, broken by the eerie flashes of lances like thunderstrikes in a meteor shower. Red lights glittered in the dark as mines armed themselves and activated their thrusters, ponderously launching themselves at their distant target. Some did so with alacrity, but many did not - they flickered lazily, and returned to their sleep, unable to summon the motivation to die.

[b]Hagar![/b]

There is no vertigo quite like the gunnery deck of the Maw. One vast chamber, five kilometers in length, with one entire side open to the black. Once there had been a specialized Void Shield that had held air in and shielded the deck from harm, but that was gone long ago. Now the crew operates in zero-gravity and voidsuits - and the great guns are beyond the harm of mortals.

Exposed to the warp on long trips, each of the building-sized macrocannons is now a living thing, twisted and rooted into the fabric of the ship, crazed eyes picking out targets and firing without the need for calculations. Crew keep a careful distance as they push shells through void towards the empty breaches of the cannon, knowing well that those who come too close will be snatched by pincers and claws. The great cannons move and jostle each other, sometimes seeming to merge into one enormous weapon, sometimes breaking apart into smaller arrays. Only the black robed priests of the Mechanicum dare to approach the beasts with electro-scourges and agony pikes, lashing the daemon weapons and forcing them to merge and separate as the Helm commands.

In the void beyond you can see the glittering fireworks of naval mines detonating.

"Lord Hagar," said Ordinator Sio-015, starboard gunnery master of the Mechanicum. "The Bridge instructs that we are to breach the minefield. Gunnery is at your disposal."