‘Oh no,’ she replied. ‘They are irrationally territorial and extremely violent. But they won’t eat you, just decapitate you. Or pull your guts out and leave them strung between the vines. Nobody knows why, but they can be quite creative with it.’

‘Is this why they are called banner-bugs?’

‘I’ve never bothered to ask.’

The Chimeras set off again, the dead sinking behind them. I mumbled a brief prayer to the God-Emperor to preserve the fallen’s souls. Shard did not join me, though she had the decency to remain silent, a state that persisted as the convoy continued through the swamplands. There was little to break the monotony. The gnarl-vines grew in haphazard bunches, forcing the occasional course correction, and a few more insects attempted to intercept the troop carriers, only to find the Chimeras’ hulls proof against their attacks.

That was why I was so excited when we stumbled across the downed craft.

It was Imperial, but beyond that I could not discern its origin, the fuselage torn and pitted with bullet wounds. The convoy halted and, after a brief examination of the wreckage, elected to burn it. When I asked why, Shard shrugged.

‘Deny it to the enemy.’

‘But it was a wreck!’

‘They salvage even this junk?’

‘We’re on a swamp. Other than raiding the distillery platforms, where do you think they acquire their weapons? That is their strength. Our losses become their gains, but even when they lose it just leaves scrap behind. The next wave of orks can forge it into a new generation of weapons.’

‘Is that why we are out here?’ I asked. ‘A scorched earth policy?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘We are here to reclaim lost territory.’

‘When do we get to this territory?’

She laughed then, glancing back at me, the smile warm but no less cruel.

‘I almost like you, Simlex,’ she said. ‘Your naivety borders on charming. Almost makes up for your weak chin.’

‘I fail to see the humour.’

‘I know. I like that too,’ she said, pointing to the swamp. ‘We have already recaptured territory.’

Through Mizar’s unblinking eye I surveyed the expansive swamplands.

‘Thoughts?’ she asked.

‘It would seem this territory has little value.’

‘You mean because it cannot be easily fortified and has no strategic worth?’ she asked. ‘Or because we are already under-resourced and should not risk losing a Chimera or Vulture to an environmental hazard?’

‘I suppose–’

‘Or are you thinking of the logistics? That so much time and so many lives, not to mention promethium, are being squandered for such paltry gain?’

‘All of the above, I suppose.’

‘Well, you erred in your analysis,’ she said. ‘If war were an equation, and only worthwhile if the output’s value exceeded the investment, this conflict would hold no worth. But there are considerations less tangible. Morale, intimidation, cutting losses and defanging potential threats. A costly war today is still cheaper than an extortionate war tomorrow.’