Of course, my peers would shrug and say, so what? The purpose of these vids is to reassure the masses, or inspire fresh recruits to enlist. It does not matter whether they are accurate, as in all probability none of the menial workers who join the Imperial Navy will ever get the chance to fly; that is the preserve of the nobility. All that matters is that the audience leave the vid flush with conviction and a desire to serve, and that enough enlist to fulfil the roles of ground crew, indentured workers and mechanicals.

But I maintained that such a poorly crafted vid could only encourage ridicule. And the recruitment figures suggested I was right.

The aircraft now swept over the swamp, its Avenger bolt cannons scything down an ork horde – a weapon that the standard fighter variant previously shown should not have had. Amateurs.

The orks’ response was to hurl spears and insults, whilst the narrator continued to extol the inevitability of humanity’s victory and the inferiority of the greenskins. It seemed the recruitment drive was focused on portraying the war as a thrilling adventure that could conclude at any moment, urging citizens to enlist before it was too late and the fighting ended. Not an inaccurate assessment, if one were to listen to some of the whispering in the corridors, but not for the reasons suggested in the pict.

By the Throne, it was tiresome. But I persisted, for what followed was the only shot in the pict worth a damn.

A second craft lurched into view, wobbling above the swamp at barely a walking pace. It was constructed from wood, though the rear-mounted engine looked to be assembled from scrap metal. It belched thick black clouds, the holo-display struggling to depict the smoke as anything more than static. Its pilot was a haggard-looking ork who appeared to be missing an eye and more than a few tusks. As the Thunderbolt fighter soared overhead, the ork attempted to fire a crude cannon mounted beneath its craft, but the recoil pitched it off balance and subsequently into the swamp. A rather impressive explosion followed, but I found myself winding back the footage until the ork flyer was visible again.

I had first thought it fake, the wooden aircraft spliced in to lighten the pict and ridicule the greenskins. But there were no seams. It was real, though the precise age of the footage was impossible to determine.

I frowned. I am no tech-priest, but it seemed impossible that such a craft could fly; I have used field latrines that were more aerodynamic. Yet somehow the orks found a way. There was something almost admirable about their ingenuity.

Admirable, and troubling.

The vox suddenly whined into life. I shut down the playback, opening the channel.

‘Propagandist Simlex?’ said a voice.

‘Yes?’

‘We are ready to depart, sir.’