The vox cut out. I could only watch the flying fortress swell before Iwazar’s eye. We were close enough now to pick out individual orks racing for their planes, whilst scrawnier greenskin runts rushed to the anti-aircraft guns. As the air filled with bullets and discharges of vile green energy, I found myself fixated on the cranes and drill heads mounted along the walkways. It was like some vast workshop, churning out squadrons from scrap. I had wondered how the orks acquired their craft, struggling to visualise the savage creatures employing spanner and arc welder. It seemed I had my answer.

Shard unleashed the Avenger’s bolt cannon, the shots tearing into the scrambling greenskins. I confess my heart leapt as both ork and fighter were shredded by the barrage. But it was as nothing against the horde, like spitting into the ocean.

The craft shuddered as we took a hit. The armour held, at least that time, for it seemed the orks were struggling to mobilise against so small a target. But more of the runts were directing cannons at our craft, and they appeared marginally better shots than their larger brethren. Shard made little effort to avoid their fire, the bullets thundering against the fuselage. Perhaps she saw no point in manoeuvring through such a barrage, like trying to dodge raindrops in a storm. Or perhaps survival was no longer her goal.

Through Iwazar’s eye, I saw two of the diminutive greenskins pushing a bizarre device into place on a ramshackle platform. It held a central cannon, flanked by four smaller rods that pulsed with power. Only as the energy coalesced did I remember the curious weapons employed against our bombing run, those beams that dragged planes from the sky.

‘Shard?’ I bellowed, but the vox remained silent.

The beam struck us, stealing all momentum, the Avenger now a dead weight. We plummeted, tumbling groundward. As we fell, the path of the beam was blocked by the hull of the sky-fortress, and suddenly power was restored, though we were still trapped in a death spiral. Shard regained control, but the Avenger now swooped beneath the colossal structure. I could see rows of cannons above us, but none were firing, the vessel’s crew still struggling to mobilise their defence.

‘This is our chance!’ I yelled. ‘Dive! Maybe we can slip out from under them!’

She paid no heed, accelerating towards the brass dome that squatted beneath the sky-fortress. As we closed on it, I could see that the sphere was neither smooth nor a single piece, the metal bearing the mark of numerous hammer blows, and threaded with copper-coloured wire that seemed to quiver in anticipation. We were close enough to pierce the heat haze surrounding it. Emerald sparks arced along its surface.

‘It’s charging!’ I said, the hairs rising on my arms.