‘Would you like to take this one, Plient? Actually contribute to a fight for once?’

‘Very kind of you to offer, sir. But, as I suspect you are aware, my craft is unarmed.’

‘Well, that’s piss-poor planning on your part. Stand by.’

A score of las-bolts tore through the sky. Each only brushed the enemy craft, one almost taking its nose off, but none quite connecting.

‘There now,’ she said. ‘You’re even. Though I have to say the green fellow does not seem to be taking it well.’

It took me a second to realise what she had done. The fighter’s silhouette was altered, and it now lacked the protrusions formerly adorning nose and wing. She had defanged it, removing its weapons without destroying the craft.

‘He does appear agitated, sir,’ Plient replied, as the ork’s cockpit lurched open in the way an Imperial vessel’s might when a pilot ejected. Instead, there was a flicker of movement, difficult to discern at such a distance.

‘Hmm… You speak Orkish, Plient?’

‘Can’t say I do, sir.’

‘I can understand a smattering of words. Well, I say words – it’s more howls punctuated by obscene gestures. This one wants to communicate.’

‘He’s certainly making a gesture, sir.’

‘Indeed. And he’s now drawn his sidearm.’

‘Can’t believe you left him with that, sir. Seems sloppy.’

‘I hate to agree with you, Plient, but you might be right. Still, perhaps he has learned his lesson. I imagine if we let him return home he will parley on our behalf, and we can put this ghastly war to an end. Wait… my mistake. He intends on ramming us.’

The ork craft was drifting from sight. Plient adjusted our angle, following. The sun flashed across the pict screen, forcing me to shield my eyes. Our rescuer had struck from above then, the light to her back. Perfect positioning.

‘Shockingly unsporting of him, sir.’

‘I know. I thought we’d established a genuine connection. Honourable foes condemned to their roles by a glorious war, their rivalry a form of comradeship, their duels the stuff of legends.’

There was no doubting the mocking tone, nor the derision dripping from every word. Still, it shocked me. The implication of any sort of comradeship with a greenskin, even in jest, was not what I expected from an officer of the Aeronautica Imperialis. I distracted myself with the pict screen, where the ork craft was thundering towards a formation of three Imperial fighters, presumably intent on mutual destruction. As I watched, the two flanking craft pulled away.

‘It’s getting quite close, sir,’ Plient said, a hint of trepidation creeping into his voice.

‘I know,’ she replied. ‘I was debating whether I could take the creature’s head with my sabre. I’m sure it’s here somewhere, I never fly without it.’

The ork surged onwards, its craft now a jagged missile aimed squarely at our rescuer.

‘Sir?’