"Ok, that should work, so long as the Deathwatch aboard the Ignis don't simply shoot him on sight. Or me, for associating with him."

Aunt Yasha nods her head. "That could be a concern, if they encounter each other unexpectedly. I'll worry about that after the Outbound System is retaken. As far as I can tell, the Ignis is being assigned to escort the transport division, along with a Loki-class, the Kukri. The Universe-class Megatherium will haul the bulk of the troops, plus whatever else they scrape up in short order. "

A small shiver runs down your spine. "I've served aboard both the Kukri and the Megatherium. The Kukri will perform ably, especially in the ground support role, given her unusual armament. The Megatherium... well, I'm glad the second echelon will be expected to arrive after the main combatants. But enough about the old condition and the upcoming fight. I said I'd bring over a dress, and so I have!" You open up the bag and pull out your old dress.

Aunt Yasha coos in approval. "Oooh! An excellent break from Oasin tradition, but similar enough to not get rejected out of hand! And so stylish! No way you came up with this on your own! And no wonder Faunia liked it!"

You hand her the dress and its accompanying vest. "No I didn't, I let Verdandi come up with it."

Aunt Yasha runs a hand over the hai-skin suede of the vest. "Verdandi? So Faunia is still sticking with the Norn sisters as her seamstresses?"

"Why not? They have done a superlative job for her for almost thirty years, why stop now?"

"A good point..."

You and Aunt Yasha wile away more than a few hours in catching up, enjoying tea with Mu'randa, catching up with her... Before you know it, you are due back aboard the Ignis, there to sleep for a few hours before the second echelon departs for Outbound.

After a good ten hours of sleep and a large and hearty breakfast, you head for the Vestibule. You are early, for good reason. The Enginseers are finishing up the comfort adjustments, and you want to make sure they get them right. Re-springing and upholstering the bare metal of the throne, re-positioning the catheter and nutrient drips, fine tuning the height of the data-interfaces, lengthening the tethers for all of the feeds, the works. They finish up in four hours, only needing you to try out a given configuration or setting a time or two.

They depart, and you settle into your freshly refurbished throne and glance about the reconfigured Vestibule. Excellent work, as you have come to expect of them. But you have a course to plot, and it's time to be about it. You trace the route back to the Outbound system on the realspace charts: Alphara-Viking-Kania-Polaris-Outbound. Four systems in total, no skips, and limited to the slowest member of the convoy: the gargantuan, wallowing Megatherium. You run the calculations in your head, and come out to about twenty days.

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The Ignis, Kukri, and Megatherium form up, Ignis taking point with Kukri watching the rear. With the speed of the convoy limited to the speed of the Megatherium, space seems to crawl by as the Terra Incarnadine and the rest of the First echelon race for their Translation point and vanish into the Warp in a swirl of violet un-light.

Keeping in mind the fact that you are setting a course for the fleet, you open your Third Eye and take care in establishing a lock on the Astronomicon and the other ships in the convoy. First, you brush your mind against the other Navigators in the convoy, linking their course to your own. There is a bit of grumbling at this, but there always is. No Navigator like to blindly follow the trail of another. So you allow the light of the Astronomicon, burning so bright it almost hurts your Sight, to illuminate the course you have plotted. It runs swift, even limited to the speed of the Megatherium and the usual Warp-paths. The other two Navigators go over it, piece by piece, examining it in detail and comparing it to their own calculations. They can find no fault with it, so you settle back and prepare for the Translation itself. You are set and ready, as is the Ignis, but your Medicae probably isn't quite sure what to expect. You open a private communications link to Canala.

"Navigator's Quarters, Stewardess Canala speaking."

"Canala, can you check on Littleflame? This transit looks to be a bit longer than our previous one, and it didn't handle that one too well."

"Yes Lady Dannan. Was there anything else?"

"Could you have the red-white dress ready for when we revert to normal space? It shouldn't be more than twenty days or so, though it may be as little as five, Warp-winds willing."

"Yes Lady Dannan, along with a matching cowl. I managed to get some good fabric while you were aboard the Terra Incarnadine. Not enough for any new dresses, but enough for the needed modifications."

"Thank you Canala. We're approaching the Translation point, so I'll sign off now."

"Good luck Lady. Canala, out."

You close the connection and prepare for the Translation. Moments later, you are leading the convoy through to open warp. The Megatherium is as plodding as you recall, and the winds and current are all but still. You issue the needed helm commands and brace for a long, long journey.

Twenty days grind past slowly. With the winds of the Warp flowing so slowly, you are able to trade off Guide and Watchman duty with the other Navigators of the convoy and actually catch some much needed rests without having to revert to reality short of the Outbound system. But as you approach the system, you can feel the Warp is... unsteady. As if churned by a great conflict.

Nervous now, you call for the Translation to realspace to happen well short of the target. Something is very wrong in the Outbound system. The Ignis and Kukri can look after themselves well enough, but the Megatherium is a sitting target for anyone or anything that wants to take a shot at her.

The early Revision leaves the convoy beyond the outer fringes of the Outbound system. Even from this extreme range, you can see the flash and flicker of weapons discharges. They seem to be flying in multiple directions, as if more than two fleets were locked in combat. Faunia's initial consternation rings in your ears, but it dies off as she studies her plots. Instead, her exclamation echoes your own thoughts.

"Merciful God-Emperor..."