We both stiffened as we heard her voice, glancing as one to the door. Shard was leaning against the frame. She too wore a dirtied flight suit, and there was a freshly stitched scar on her cheek.

‘Damn cockpit shattered,’ she said with a shrug, acknowledging my stare. ‘I miss my Lightning.’

‘Shard,’ Gradeolous said coldly, releasing his grip on my shoulder. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Investigating,’ she said. ‘I thought I heard the mating call of the Donorian Fiend. I rushed to protect our propagandist from its vile attentions. Of course, it now strikes me that the hideous sound was probably just your self-congratulatory sniggering, presumably following an ill-conceived attempt at humour.’

She smiled, making no effort to hide her disdain. I glanced to Gradeolous, whose jaw was clenched tight enough to grind bonemeal.

‘Now you’ve seen there is no danger, perhaps you should be on your way,’ he said. ‘There is probably a bottle somewhere requiring your attention.’

‘If only,’ she sighed. ‘I’m here to collect our hero propagandist.’

I frowned. ‘Hero?’

‘I’m as surprised as you,’ she said. ‘A certain aristocrat has decreed that the only reason we weren’t destroyed last night was your well-timed warning. Personally, I think the anti-air defences contributed something, as did my own peerless skills. But it seems both pale in comparison to mumbling like an idiot before collapsing into a foetal ball, no doubt soiling yourself in the process.’

‘I did not soil myself.’

‘I wasn’t minded to check. After all, someone needed to defend the Imperium,’ she replied. ‘On which note, you need to come with me.’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know. It’s classified,’ she said. ‘Either that, or I wasn’t paying attention during the briefing. But, regardless, someone wants you stinking up my aircraft. Oh, and bring your skull-friend. That’s the important thing, isn’t it?’

‘How? It will never keep up with us.’

‘Oh, it will,’ she sighed. ‘Believe me, our mission will not be conducted at speed.’

Chapter thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I learned much on that flight, most of it concerning the anatomy of the various insects that thrived in Bacchus’ humid climate. They were heedless of our passage, content to splatter against the cockpit. Many had wingspans of a foot or more, and the craft’s clearance systems faced a constant battle to remove their bodies and maintain visibility. It felt a futile exercise; hundreds more of the creatures would congregate on the craft, and every few moments we were greeted by another seemingly suicidal invertebrate intent on dashing itself on the Vulture gunship’s screen.