I thought to pray, but all prayers left me. I kept dwelling on my magnum opus, the prized pict that would place me in the ranks of renowned propagandists like Pinmoth and Iwazar. It would never be completed now, the idea buried deep in the swamps of this backwater world, and me along with it.

But at the last moment Plient wrenched our nose up and somehow the craft levelled, skimming across the swamp water before banking sharply, the barbed vines clawing at the hull. I felt a shockwave behind us, followed by the thunder of an explosion. Our pursuer had not reacted as quickly. Though fast, his craft lacked manoeuvrability.

‘Well done, Plient,’ I managed, finding my voice again.

‘It’s not over, sir. Three more are inbound.’

He was right. As we levelled, I could see a trio of black smoke trails drawing in. They were some distance away, but accelerating.

‘Where is our escort?’ I asked as they closed in.

‘They did their duty, sir. They are with the God-Emperor now.’

There was little I could say to that. Instead, I watched the attackers descend on us. Plient headed straight for them, resigned to the inevitability of our fate. I wanted to plead with him to flee, take us close to the ground. But the prospect of advising a flight sergeant, even an acting one, on aerial strategy felt foolish. I could not speak, apparently finding certain death preferable to appearing a fool to a relative stranger.

But at that moment, the incoming fighters banked sharply, as though desperate to reposition.

It was too late. A scouring beam of light heralded our deliverance. It tore through the foremost ork aircraft, breaching its fuel reserves. The fighter erupted in an inferno, spraying flaming metal in all directions. Its allies lurched from the explosion’s path, but it did not matter. A second las-bolt sheared across the closer craft, barely shaving the vessel’s cockpit, and yet decapitating the greenskin pilot in the process. As he quietly tumbled from the sky, the last ork was still trying to engage the new threat. Though the greenskin fighters were quick and merciless, they lacked the agility for swift redeployment.

The vox-channel hissed into life.

‘Plient? Who in the Throne’s name let you near an aircraft? I thought you were confined to maintenance?’

The voice was curt, but at the sound of it my mouth was suddenly dry. It was her. I was sure of it.

‘We were a little short-handed on the ground, sir,’ Plient replied. ‘Very decent of you to offer some assistance.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Plient. I was bored and wanted a scrap. I was hoping for some more challenging opposition, though. Perhaps the Bringer of Flame or Green Storm. Not a couple of barely blooded greenskins flailing about in the sky.’

‘Still one left, sir.’

The remaining ork craft was coming about, rising to intercept. I still could not see our rescuer.