‘I see.’ She frowned, glancing to Plient. ‘What do you think, flight sergeant?’

‘Not my place to say, sir.’

She smiled. ‘Indulge me. That’s an order.’

‘Well, maybe if I connect the Lightning’s locator beacon to the seer-skull’s transmitter it could boost the connection range considerably. Burnout might be an issue, but given it endured the ork lightning it should hold out for a time. Assuming the cogitators share an interface.’ He glanced anxiously at our blank faces. ‘Or something like that.’

I met Shard’s gaze. ‘Did you understand what he said?’ I asked.

‘It isn’t my duty to understand it.’

‘But you are certain you can do this?’ I asked, turning to Plient.

‘For a time,’ he said, smile retreating. ‘But Iwazar has already endured much. I don’t know how long it will hold together. I’m not Mechanicus. I’m not supposed to tamper with things beyond my ken.’

His gaze fell to his feet, whilst Shard’s drifted skywards.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. ‘Plient, what did Wing Commander Prospherous’ letter say you should do in the event he was incapacitated?’

‘Follow your orders, sir.’

‘So you do follow orders?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then, by the God-Emperor, I order you to do whatever you just said you were going to do. With the boosting and wires and… so forth.’

He saluted. ‘Sir! Yes, sir!’

‘How long have you had that letter?’ I asked as Plient fired up his arc welder.

‘What year is it?’

‘Never mind.’

‘Would you prefer to be in charge? Because I’m due a latrine break.’

‘No.’ I winced as Plient cracked open Iwazar’s casing and teased out wire and cable. ‘You think he can do this? He is no tech-priest.’

‘True. But I’d wager he’s at least as smart as an ork, and they managed it.’

There was then a loud hiss of steam, followed by a muffled curse as Iwazar’s lens flared red. I looked away, my gaze following Shard’s, who was intent on the flickering image of the sky-fortress. The ork mechanical was moving down a corridor, dragging the seer-skull with him. I caught the occasional glance at the chain binding them together.

‘I take it you can’t connect with it?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps arrange for it to bash our foe about the head? Or self-destruct?’

‘No. If I try, I become overwhelmed. All we can do is observe.’

As we watched, the image shifted, the seer-skull drifting towards a viewport. Despite its enslavement, it was still obsessed with the whirlwind of ork jets, its sensors drawn to the frenetic energy. The rim of the brass dome squatting beneath the fortress was barely visible, sparks of green lightning flaring from it.

‘Do you think they will wait for Gork’s Emissary?’ I asked.

‘Orks are not renowned for their patience,’ she replied. ‘They might be able to build things, but they are quite poor at sitting still.’