I glanced to him. ‘Governor Dolos must be delighted to have so many guests.’

‘She… understands the necessity of the war effort, sir,’ Plient replied. ‘Still, once the greenskins are crushed she’ll be happy to see the back of us.’

‘You think that will be soon?’

‘Hard to say, sir. The local lads don’t recall a time before the orks, but they were manageable then. It’s only recently they’ve become threat enough that Governor Dolos requested additional support. But now reinforcements are continually inbound. That must mean we’re pushing them back.’

‘I’m sure their defeat is imminent.’ I nodded, my gaze shifting to a servitor lumbering from the château. Remarkably well maintained, its mechanical components gleamed like silver, but as it drew closer it became clear that such care extended only to its augmetics. Its flesh was the greyest I’d seen on a servitor, and the skin around its implants was blistered and sickly looking.

It stopped afore me, its remaining organic eye fixed ahead. Its mouth opened to speak, but the lips did not move, the sound instead originating from a vox-speaker in its torso.

‘Welcome, honoured guest. Confirm identity and destination.’

‘Propagandist Kile Simlex. Guest suite,’ Plient replied, speaking into the machine’s torso before glancing to me. ‘There you are, sir. Garrie here will take your luggage and escort you to your room.’

‘Garrie?’

‘I… I sometimes name them,’ Plient said as the machine lumbered over to my cases. ‘I don’t know why. Silly really.’

‘There’s no harm in it,’ I said, and shrugged, my gaze flitting to the runways. ‘Tell me, will Flight Commander Shard be touching down?’

‘No, sir, she will perform another pass. If those orks slipped through our perimeter it’s possible there are more.’

‘Ah.’ I nodded. ‘Of course. A pity, though. I would have liked to extend my thanks for our rescue.’

‘You’ll get the chance, sir.’

‘Well, thank you again, flight sergeant. I imagine you have other duties to attend to?’

‘Indeed, sir. Thank you for your understanding.’ He smiled, bobbing his head. ‘I’ll get back to maintenance. We have a couple of fighters that need to be patched up.’

‘You assist the tech-priests?’

‘In a manner of speaking, sir,’ he replied, his gaze shifting to his feet. ‘The enginseers are stretched thin between the regiments.’

‘I see. And you have been sanctioned to conduct repairs in their absence?’

‘That’s what they tell me, sir.’

It was not quite an answer, but I did not pursue the matter.

‘Well, good day to you, Plient. I hope we meet again soon.’

‘My pleasure, sir.’ He nodded, throwing out a crisp salute before spinning on his heel and marching across the grounds.

I turned to find the servitor and my possessions gone. I glanced round, fearful, only to spot it entering the château’s vestibule, cases in tow. I raced in pursuit, pushing my way through the press of bodies, struggling to keep pace. I caught a glimpse of it rising from the crowd, ascending a plush staircase. It was remarkably even-footed, plodding along at a steady pace whilst I found myself stumbling and tripping in my haste. Despite their gilded veneer, the stairs were rather uneven, the wood warped and cracked in places.