She dragged me through a parade of what passed for nobility on that backwater planet. Each shifted at the mention of my name, their eyes suddenly alert. Most thanked me for my efforts, claiming someone needed to show how the military were squandering its resources, instead of taking the fight to the orks. A few regaled me with their own struggles with the greenskins a decade earlier, before it was deemed a military matter. The way they told it, combating the threat was akin to a hunting party. The swamp-skimmers, usually employed in harvesting the gnarl-vines, were outfitted with heavy stubbers and used to clear out the horde. I can only assume the creatures they fought were closer to the knock-kneed primitives than the savage brutes now plaguing the planet.

Kikazar tirelessly logged each conversation, though I doubted it was worth the effort. What struck me was the similarity between the accounts; the same story relayed from a dozen mouths. As the wine flowed their tirades degenerated into slurs and outbursts of shrill laughter, and it struck me that the spectacle of these supposed dignitaries did little to glorify the Imperium.

I was growing bored, and encouraged Kikazar’s sensors to roam, latching onto conversations that intrigued its inquisitive machine-spirit. Though it lacked Mizar’s sophisticated lenses, Kikazar had advanced audio sensors, as well as a gift for translation and interpretation. I caught snatches of indiscretion from the shadows, but the passions and infidelities of the nobles held little interest to me. Mildly more intriguing were the servants. They scurried like worker insects, labouring with tireless desperation to maintain the event’s relaxed façade. I caught Stylee berating a younger man clad in the governor’s livery over the flammability of the spider silk adhesive used in preparation for the festivities. At the time I assumed he referred to decorations.

But then I spotted Shard loitering by the banquet table, exchanging pleasantries with the other officers. I was surprised to see Wing Commander Prospherous in attendance, given his seemingly adversarial relationship with Governor Dolos. I imagined it was protocol: as commanding officer his attendance was a matter of propriety. His expression indicated he was not enjoying himself. In fact, none of the officers looked in good spirits. What smiles they offered were rare and rang false.

And Shard’s plate was still full.

I watched for a full minute, but she touched nothing, though that damnable bird perched on her shoulder managed to snatch a few morsels. Despite her earlier claims she seemed wholly uninterested in the food.

Kikazar still hovered behind me, intent on a stately noblewoman who was regaling our group with her views on the best means of chastising slothful servants.

‘Kikazar, focus to subject Shard.’

The seer-skull bobbed at the command, directing its aural recorders to the conversation on the far side of the room and deadening the cacophony between. Via my interface, I caught a snippet of the exchange.

‘–found our missing plane.’