‘I don’t think so. I said what I saw, but I am not a real pilot, and they place little value on my words. Shard spoke out, told them that the orks have built a fortress in the sky, but they didn’t believe her. Said she was trying to justify being shot down.’

‘Shard spoke? Is she still alive?’

‘I… I cannot say, sir. I have orders. I don’t disobey orders,’ Plient replied.

‘Do you know where she is?’

‘I have orders, sir! Orders!’

‘I understand,’ I said, stepping back, hands raised. ‘I’m sorry, Plient. I am just relieved you mentioned her name.’

‘Sir.’

‘Well, what about the governor?’ I continued, changing the topic in the hope of calming him. ‘Surely she cannot want her château left undefended?’

‘I… I don’t know, sir,’ Plient replied. ‘I hear things. I try not to listen because it distracts me, but sometimes they speak so loudly there is nothing I can do. I know her servants have been packing up during the night. Few of them are around this morning.’

‘I did note my door had only one guard. I assumed the other was ­relieving himself,’ I said, frowning.

Just one. Could I subdue the man and escape? No. He looked as though he could crush both of us, even if we were healthy.

‘Thank you again, Plient,’ I said. ‘I bid you farewell.’

He nodded, offering a crisp salute before turning away. But he lingered at the door, his hangdog eyes meeting mine.

‘Sir?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m sorry about Mizar, sir. Flight Commander Gradeolous ordered me to install it into his Thunderbolt.’

‘You did your duty, Plient. I am sure Mizar will do likewise.’

He nodded once before departing.

Alone, I took a seat at the vox and began the tedious task of connecting with the Departmento Munitorum. Plient had undersold the poor quality of the transmission. It took an hour to speak to a subordinate on Orbital Station Salus, and I could barely make out her words. Time was wasted inputting endless encryption keys, before I finally had access to the data-veil. Or a shadow of it, anyway; my clearance was limited, and I had the burden of a lagging connection.

I knew what I must do. But it took time to gather the courage, so I procrastinated. I first accessed Shard’s file, but the 2208th Expeditionary Air Wing’s records were months in arrears. My own attachment to the division was not yet even listed. Perhaps it was bureaucratic incompetence, or served some higher party’s agenda. There was no way to know.