‘I don’t care if he’s the Ecclesiarch’s lead trumpeter! I need to know what’s in there.’

‘I cannot tell you. Not without Mizar.’

She swore. ‘Why in the Throne’s name didn’t you mention this?’

‘You did not tell me that you needed sensor readings! You said you wanted to help complete my pict.’

‘You must have known I was lying! Who gives a damn about your pict? The only reason you are here is because for some inexplicable reason you have the capacity to sense the orks’ energy signatures. You think I wanted you here? Because of you I’m lumbered with flying a damn Avenger to accommodate the extra seat.’

There was anger in her voice, even betrayal. But I was angry too, and with my back to her it was easier to bite back.

‘This is all on you,’ I thundered. ‘If you were honest from the start I could have told you Iwazar was not suitable for this mission. You should have told me.’

‘Your stupid skulls all look alike!’

‘So do your planes! Why should I care which you pick? I never asked for this mission. You came to me. All of this is on you!’

Silence. For a moment I thought she had cut the vox, but I could still hear her breath. It was not a reassuring sound.

‘Listen. We should turn around,’ I said. ‘We can collect Mizar and a few more craft. Just tell them this was reconnaissance, or–’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘Flight Commander Lucille von Shard does not run from a battle.’

‘But we are ill-equipped and this is the wrong type of aircraft, you said so yourself!’

‘It doesn’t matter. A von Shard does not retreat. We will get closer so you can get the damn readings.’

‘No one could fly through that thing.’

‘I can, because I am Flight Commander Lucille von Shard. She is the best. I am the best. I can do this.’

But, as we plunged into the maelstrom, I could not ignore the faint tremor in her voice.

Chapter twenty-two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I know not how Shard navigated the storm, the Avenger buffeted all the while by the unnatural winds that bound the tempest. A lesser pilot might have fought against it, and found their craft torn asunder, but she somehow rode the maelstrom, following the cyclone deeper into the darkness.

I was too terrified to sync with Iwazar, and could only gape from the rear of the craft. Through the cockpit I saw shadows in the storm, scraps of metal suspended by the vortex. Their angular lines were all too familiar, the shattered remnants of Imperial aircraft. It was as if we were flying through a graveyard of lost fighters.