I do not blame my superiors for dismissing me. My pict would neither aid recruitment, nor reassure the sector that the ork situation was contained. Not that it mattered any more. The near miss on Bacchus finally spurred the Imperium into action, with Governor Zanwich assuming the role of temporary planetary governor for Bacchus in Dolos’ absence. He in turn secured a company of soldiers from the death world of Catachan. They have been deployed to the front lines, and it is said they are pushing the orks back, though whether that is the truth is a separate question entirely.

As for me? For my failure I was sanctioned and demoted, reduced to cataloguing old files and cleaning poorly spliced data. My pict was coddled into something more palatable, the credit given to another. It suits me well enough. I am no longer dispatched to fantastic locations, capturing the glories and horror of our unending war. But I think I would struggle with my limp, and I no longer have the stomach for it, or the fire in my soul. Perhaps an after-effect of that terrible ork weapon, or a weakness of my character brought on by the things I saw. Either way, I am not the man I was, my ambition as diminished as my status.

Still, my work found an audience. For, one evening, whilst compiling the day’s files, I received an unexpected vox from a Prefectus Josephine von Shard. I did not think I had met the woman. Not until I saw her face, for the bionic eye’s housing was quite distinct.

‘Scribe Simlex,’ she said. ‘I hope I find you well.’

‘As well as might be expected.’

‘I just wanted to let you know the family enjoyed your pict.’

‘That cinema-pict release is not my pict.’

‘I know. But I managed to procure a copy of the original. It’s a little rough, but some of us are quite taken with it. Tobia went as far as calling it “tolerable”, which is high praise indeed.’

‘It is a pity those sentiments are not universally shared.’

‘Indeed.’ She tutted. ‘It’s a shame how it ended up for you.’

‘I made my choices.’

‘Yes. And I’d say you did right by us.’

‘May I ask a question?’

‘I think you’ve earned that.’

‘The doctored records stating I was cousin to Planetary Governor Zanwich. Was that your work?’

She smiled, her face the mirror of Shard’s. Only without the sneer. ‘You asked your question. I never said I would answer it.’

‘I think you did.’

‘Would you like to know a better question?’ she asked.

I nodded.

‘Which planetary governor was recently apprehended attempting to flee the sector?’

‘Dolos?’ I said. ‘She has been arrested?’

‘Detained at the request of Inquisitor Ortis Atenbach.’

‘Her crime?’

She shrugged. ‘That is to be decided. But conspiring with xenos and importing contraband flora are distinct possibilities.’

‘Were you involved in this?’