Stylee was on him. No warning, just fists flailing in all directions. The second servant tried to intervene, and was rewarded by a blow to the chin for his troubles. All three ended up scuffling on the floor, their allegiances unclear. Kikazar must have designated the situation a threat, for it retreated. But as it did so, its sensors caught sight of the painting hung on the far wall.

‘Cease playback,’ I whispered, approaching the flickering holo-pict. I suspected I had seen it before in passing. It was neither good nor bad enough to inspire much comment. But even with the questionable pict quality, I had no doubt it shared stylistic similarities with the triptych hung in the governor’s room in the distillery. There was only one figure in this image, surrounded by greenery. Her headdress of antennae and mandibles suggested it was Governor Dolos, or someone of similar rank. But the robes were wrong, lacking the folds and layers common to the planet. It was close-fitted and adorned with unfamiliar runes that echoed those from the distillery.

Except… they were not quite unfamiliar. I had seen something like them once before, on an assignment to Segmentum Pacificus. I had been advised against making recordings of the pictographs for fear they might contain foul magicks. But I recalled the smooth lines and sweeping flourishes, these qualities carried over to the paintings.

The runes were aeldari in origin.

Chapter twenty-eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I watched Plient make the final adjustments to the vox. It still perplexed me how a simple soldier could demonstrate such proficiency at technical work. I had been taught only adepts of the Mechanicus could be entrusted to oversee the sacred toils of manufacture and maintenance. But Plient certainly put this tenet to the test.

I had summoned him on false pretences, claiming I needed assistance with the seer-skulls. But I had another idea in mind.

‘There you are, sir,’ he said. ‘You should be able to connect with Orbital Station Salus. One of the subordinates on the station can grant you access to Departmento Munitorum records. It’s not a strong signal, though. You might have to shout into the receiver, and you won’t be able to connect with anyone off-planet.’

‘Thank you, Plient. I am relieved you could spare a few minutes.’

He shrugged. ‘Not much else to do, sir. All aircraft are in the air. We have to wait to see what comes back.’

‘All of them?’

‘Well, not quite. But we ran out of pilots,’ he said. ‘I offered to fly, even just to draw some fire. But I can’t, sir. Not like this.’ His gaze fell to the stump where his arm should have been.

‘All of them?’ I heard myself say, repeating the phrase as though it might inspire some fresh revelation.

Plient nodded. ‘It’s the Green Storm, sir. They have gone to face it.’

‘Do they know what they are up against?’