‘Wing commander, Propagandist Simlex is here on the behest of Governor Zanwich himself. He has been ordered to produce a pict on the Aeronautica Imperialis.’

‘Is that right?’ Prospherous replied, raising an eyebrow.

‘My sources confirmed it, and you know how thoroughly I research such matters. He is here with the governor’s blessing. More than that, he is here in his stead.’

Prospherous glanced between us, leaning back in his seat. He sighed, running a hand through thinning hair.

‘Wonderful,’ he murmured.

‘Propagandist Simlex needs our support,’ she said. ‘I have assured him I will provide whatever resources are required to make it a success. Why, if need be, the entire grounds can be cleared of anything that does not serve this function. And though I may not command your troops, my voice carries weight across this sector, with countless nobles and Administratum officials alike, as well as innumerable officers throughout the Astra Militarum. I wonder how they would react to the discovery you oppose Governor Zanwich’s project?’

It was a mild yet terrifying threat. I cannot pretend that I fully understand the division of power within the Imperium, but I do know any substantial campaign requires cooperation between its various departments. A single Administratum adept could, if so instructed, mislay the documents required to resupply the front line, and doom a campaign to failure.

Governor Dolos’ casual threat bordered on heresy. At least, one could frame it that way. But she was also the planetary governor, appointed in the name of the God-Emperor Himself. Bacchus was hers to rule as she saw fit. Prospherous was but a soldier, a guest in her home and on her planet. Theoretically, he could arrest her as a traitor if she opposed the conflict. But it was just as likely she could blunt his offensive and ground his craft with but a word in the right ear.

I glanced to the window, still praying. But there was no sign of incoming respite. In fact, the other fighters were now airborne, only the Valkyrie still being prepped. Through Mizar, I spied a trio of aircrew approaching, clad in those familiar flight suits, Flight Commander Gradeolous at their head. Though he was no longer imprisoned in his cockpit, his expression suggested his mood had improved little.

‘Simlex?’

The mention of my name tore me back into the room, where Wing Commander Prospherous was glaring at me.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Governor Zanwich appears quite dedicated to this project. Unusually so.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I said. ‘May I speak freely?’

He shrugged. I took this as consent.

‘Certain parties on Hedon are concerned by the progress of the war effort,’ I said. ‘They feel it reflects badly on the subsector. This pict has been commissioned in part to assuage these fears and demonstrate that the Imperial war machine will triumph.’