The ork grinned. Perhaps it recognised something in her manner, or remembered her from the pict I inadvertently projected across the sky.

‘Yes.’

‘When and where?’

‘The storm’s eye. Soon.’

‘How soon?’

‘Before the sky is broken/breached/dominated.’

‘I see. Consider your message received. Simlex, cut the signal.’

‘I… am not in control of any of this.’

‘Well, that’s unfortunate. Because now I look like an idiot. Can’t you just pull some wires out or something?’

I am not sure the ork followed this exchange, though it made a terrifying grumbling sound that might have been amusement. But there came an audible crash behind it, a trio of runts sprinting past, two of them at least partially on fire, bickering despite the blaze and subsequent minor explosions. The ork grunted something that, mercifully, Kikazar was unable to translate, before slamming its fist into the projector. The image went blank, and Kikazar fell to the ground, its lenses dark. I could see smoke seeping from the cracks in its skull.

‘They really are ingenious creatures, aren’t they?’ Shard murmured.

‘Shard, I… Do you even think you have a chance against it?’

‘Perhaps a small one. Maybe. That is, if I could leave this cell.’

‘There must be a way,’ I said, inspecting the rather solid-looking bars. ‘What if… Could we cut through the metal somehow? Or cause a distraction? I still have one seer-skull. Have you–’

I turned as I spoke, expecting to see her beside me. But she had returned to the bunk, laying her head upon the pillow, gaze fixed to the ceiling.

‘Shard?’ I said, still expecting something.

She raised her head, glancing at me. ‘What?’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Waiting for dinner,’ she replied, lying back again. ‘I do hope they have some proper meat this time. I swear yesterday’s stew was mostly carapace and antenna.’

‘But… I thought you said you had a chance against it?’

‘Yes,’ she said, frowning. ‘Sorry, I don’t see how that’s relevant?’

‘You don’t intend to fight it?’

‘Why should I do that?’

I stared at her, incredulous.

‘What about honour?’ I blurted.

‘I have orders,’ she said. ‘I was told not to leave this cell. And I have recently been reminded of the importance of obeying orders to the letter.’

‘But… you don’t follow orders. You just do as you please!’

‘As I please?’ she snapped, gesturing to the cell. ‘You think this is as I please?’

‘I doubt this is the first cell you–’

‘Do you know what I wanted to be when I was a child?’

‘No.’

‘Neither do I. The schola progenium cleansed most of the formative stuff. I gather it’s more efficient to shape your recruits from scratch rather than try and build upon past experience.’

‘You remember nothing?’