The pict was fading, but I managed to rotate Iwazar. The sky-fortress lay both behind and beneath us, for Shard was accelerating vertically up the tower, fleeing for the safety of the void. Beneath her the Green Storm was consumed by its own malefic energies. And there were no orks to shut down the generators.

As she raced on, the clouds spun faster, lightning arcing between them as the storm began to collapse in on itself.

‘Shard, it’s going to–’

There was a blast of green light. And I lost her.

I rose to my feet, stumbling from the hangar, ignoring my aching leg and the blood in my mouth. In the distance I could see the storm dissipating, remnants of ork craft falling from the sky, so far away that it looked almost like rain.

I tried to find her, to reach out one last time. I caught a faint image of the Lightning suspended in the void, the cockpit dark and engines still, floating silently in space, like a broken boat drifting through Bacchus’ swamps.

Then it faded, and I was left with only my own two eyes.

Postface

POSTFACE

The Glorious Martyrdom of the 2208th was fast-tracked into production, spliced from the files extracted from Kikazar.

It told the story of Flight Commander Lucille von Shard, who led the last of the 2208th Expeditionary Air Wing in an all-out assault against the ork threat hidden in a cloud. Despite terrible casualties, the armada was brought down, the greenskin offensive blunted by their sacrifice. Medals were awarded to the pilots, nearly all of them posthumous. Wing Commander Prospherous was heralded for his tactical foresight, conserving his forces for this last vital offensive. Not that he could provide an account of precisely what transpired, as he was injured in the ork raid, suffering a blow to the head. He could recall little of those days before the final battle.

This was not the account I presented to my superiors. It is not the truth.

But the truth was not to their liking. Nobody wants to dwell on our soldiers suffering. Not only from the ork guns, for that is their duty, but also from their rulers’ failings and bureaucrats’ indifference. A true Hero of the Imperium is stoic and loyal, unquestioning, adhering to orders. A true hero slays an ork blade to blade, not scrabbling in the dirt and stabbing it in the back. They should not possess an acid tongue and sour wit. They do not sneak, or drink, or care little for anything and anyone beyond themselves.