Dissatisfied, I paused the playback, and had begun to organise archived files, ostensibly to free up some data-storage, when I stumbled across a pict of the young Shard.

It was from her mother’s second funeral. Shard looked one of the youngest, her brothers towering over her. The elders of the group were clad in their robes of office: a slimmer Confessor Maric von Shard in his Ecclesiarchy vestments, Commissar Tobia von Shard in his greatcoat and peaked cap, Prefectus Josephine von Shard in the regalia of the Administratum, and Inquisitorial Acolyte Rile von Shard, who looked particularly sinister in his dark robes. The younger siblings, including Shard, still wore the modest attire of the schola progenium, their training incomplete and roles unassigned.

It was a curious group to look upon. One family, encompassing the many arms of the Imperium, unified in their dedication to the God-Emperor and humanity. But as I glanced from Maric’s tanned face to Shard’s almost ghastly skin, it struck me how little resemblance there was between them all. It was more than mismatched uniforms. Though bound together in grief, they did not look like a family.

There was a commotion outside. Well, perhaps commotion is a stretch, but Shard’s voice had a way of carrying, particularly when she was irritated.

‘–don’t care if the spirit of Saint Sanguinius is available, I am still the one who flies that damn mission.’

The muffled retort was inaudible, though Shard’s subsequent expletives carried easily enough. I wrenched open the window, struggling with the runners, before glancing to Kikazar hovering beside me.

‘Go listen. But be discreet.’

The seer-skull clicked in acknowledgement, darkening its lenses before disappearing into the evening’s gloom. As I closed the window one final remark from her carried.

‘You think Plient imagined it? That boy doesn’t have any imagination. I’ve met servitors with a greater gift for abstract thought. What makes you–’

I closed the glass, muffling the sound.

Plient was talking? Awake? I had to see him. I owed him that much. Kikazar was capable of cataloguing Shard’s ranting, but in that moment it held no interest to me. I muted the exchange, throwing on my robe and summoning Iwazar to escort me to the medi-unit.

It ceased playback, and the von Shard family faded from sight.

‘Hello, sir! It’s so good to see you.’

Plient beamed as I entered, awkwardly raising himself to a sitting position with his good arm.

‘I’m glad to find you in such spirits,’ I said, perching on the side of his cot. ‘I was concerned you might not recover.’

‘Oh, don’t you worry about me, sir,’ Plient replied. ‘I’d be back patching aircraft today if they’d let me. The chirurgeon is a fine fellow but, between you and me, he fusses.’