‘It’s a precaution. We are far from the hotspots, but I’m afraid air combat does not have strict front lines. Still, it is only a few leagues to Planetary Governor Dolos’ château. Don’t worry, sir, I’ll get you there in one piece.’

‘I have every faith in you,’ I said, pleased my voice sounded steady.

‘Would you like a display, sir? The squad would be happy to demonstrate their skills.’

‘Thank you, but that is unnecessary.’

‘Are you sure? Our escort would be delighted to appear in the pict.’

‘My recording equipment is all stowed,’ I replied, glancing to my cases. ‘Perhaps, once I’m settled, we can arrange something.’

‘Understood, sir.’

There was no change in his tone, but I wondered if I had offended him. Perhaps these pilots had hoped to be the focus of the pict, or at least prominent figures. But I had assumed the flight would be uneventful, and with my cases magnetically sealed I had no means of recording the journey.

Flanked by our escort, we soared over the endless lagoon, flying lower than I would have expected. I unpacked my data-slate, studying fragments of footage and the assorted files I had been given regarding Bacchus and its customs, preparing myself for our arrival. But the craft suddenly lurched right, almost causing me to drop the device. On the pict screen, I caught sight of one of our escorts moving into position ahead of us.

‘Plient?’ I asked. ‘What’s happening?’

‘We picked up a little vox-chatter indicating a few hostiles may have slipped into our airspace. We’re shifting formation, but giving them a wide berth. No sense engaging and putting you in jeopardy, sir.’

‘Orks, I take it?’

‘Yes, sir.’

I frowned, recalling the primitive wooden flyer. It seemed incongruous such beasts utilising actual aircraft, despite reported technological advancements. The idea such savage creatures could pilot functional war machines, let alone manufacture them, seemed absurd.

‘How numerous are these forces?’ I asked.

‘Unknown, sir. My apologies, I need to liaise with command. Stand by.’

I nodded. A pointless gesture as he could not see me. Admittedly, being unseen is an advantage to my trade. I am neither a tall nor striking man, my hair dark and face unremarkable, the only notable feature a surgical scar tucked along my hairline. Anonymity suits me well enough, and I am content to fade into the background whilst others strut the stage. But I am used to observing the performance. Being trapped in a metal box high above an unfamiliar planet was disconcerting, and doubly so with hostiles inbound. With my equipment stowed, my perceptions were limited to what I could observe through the pict screen.

Which abruptly went dark.