‘But… we are armed and armoured. Surely a–’

‘We are slow and ponderous,’ she replied. ‘The Thunderbolt fighters will do their duty, but if an ork gets through, you better hope the armour holds, because we carry about two thousand kilos of high explosives. If one of them is even clipped, we are done. So, for that reason, we stay as high as possible, at least until we have sighted our target.’

‘And what is our target?’

‘That would be classified.’ She smiled, turning away.

I shook my head, syncing with Mizar and surveying the featureless void beneath. It made the cold vacuum of space positively appealing. At least there were stars to enjoy.

I cannot say how long we flew, for I fear I drifted, lulled by the warmth of the cockpit and hum of the engines. It was never a full slumber, for that is near impossible when synced to a seer-skull, but abrupt cuts in the footage suggest I was not paying due attention. I kept experiencing flashes of data-scraps, dragged from Mizar’s deep storage: bubbling swamps and green lightning, the images spliced with the cockpit and surrounding craft. I heard Shard murmuring through the vox, her voice low. I could not pick out all the words, something about uncooperative cargo.

Suddenly the craft lurched to the side, my head slamming against the headrest. I glanced up, blinking, to find her facing me.

‘Oh good, you’re awake again,’ she smirked. ‘Pleasant dreams?’

‘I was merely cataloguing some of Mizar’s files.’

‘That would explain the snoring. Did you find anything useful?’

‘Useful?’

‘In your little skull. Has it seen anything interesting?’

‘Why do you care?’

She shrugged. ‘I’m bored. I merely seek to pass the time.’

‘I would have thought you sufficiently occupied preparing for the mission.’

‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘Well, between you and me, when I say “classified”, I mean we are undertaking dynamic tactical interdiction with limited visual capabilities.’

‘You are flying blind and hoping to find a worthwhile target?’

‘I did not realise you had such an appreciation for military terminology. Yes, we are flying through hostile territory hoping to uncover something worth destroying. You would think it would be easy, but the damn greenskins have got better at hiding. They used to break cover when we soared over, firing those little guns of theirs, heedless that we were far out of range. It made it simple to cull them.’

‘What changed?’

‘They built planes. And discovered tactics. And stealth.’

‘Like hiding? I can’t really picture an ork lurking in the bushes.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ she said. ‘This is not my first war against them. Most prefer a direct approach to violence, but there’s always a few who appreciate the finesse of knifing someone in the back.’

‘You think the orks are hiding somewhere?’

‘You have the fancy sensors and scanners on your skulls. You tell me.’