‘No. Just green lightning. All around us, so bright it was blinding. At first, I thought it a weapon of some kind, but it did not strike us. But when the light cleared they were there, making their attack.’

He looked thoughtful, or close to it.

‘I did wonder…’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, sir, the God-Emperor’s technology allows the Adeptus Astartes to appear from nowhere.’

‘That is true.’

‘I found myself wondering, as blasphemous as it may sound…’

‘You may speak freely, Plient.’

‘Given we can teleport our troops in such a manner, and given the orks appeared in a similar way…’

He averted his gaze, his hands fidgeting with a cloth.

‘Yes, Plient?’

‘I wondered if maybe… one of our tech-adepts had inadvertently transported the orks by mistake?’

He would not meet my gaze, fearful his words would be deemed treacherous.

‘I suppose that is possible,’ I said. ‘Errors do occur.’

He nodded, relieved. ‘Yes, sir. I’m sure it was just a one-time error, and the one responsible was suitably chastised.’

Chastised was putting it mildly. If such an incident had occurred the perpetrator’s execution would only have been delayed long enough for their superiors to devise a suitably violent and ironic method. But, though I know little of teleportation technology, I am aware of its limitations. An object cannot simply be plucked from one spot and moved to another, it requires a bespoke platform, and it is all but impossible to transport something significantly larger than an armoured Adeptus Astartes warrior. The idea that our technicians could have inadvertently deposited a squad of orks behind enemy lines was absurd.

But I knew why Plient clung to it. For the alternative was worse, and to suggest the orks harboured technology that could surpass our own was heresy.

I glanced to him. He had returned to his duties, whistling a toneless tune.

‘Iwazar, play back file designated “Duel”.’

The holo-image collapsed into beams of light, reassembling into the spectacle of two orks battling atop the desecrated platform. Why had they been fighting? A challenge for dominance? Squabbling over spoils? It could be both, or neither. Perhaps, in the absence of opponents, they merely fought each other for practice. Or fun.

But it was not their struggle that had piqued my interest.

The duel concluded, the victor raised his head to the sky, his followers howling in triumph. What did they see in the sky above? I would never know, for Mizar fled moments later. But as the seer-skull dodged the volleys of gunfire, its lens flicked across the darkness.

There.

‘Freeze image,’ I murmured, peering at the spectacle. The resolution was still set to low, the image bleached of colour.

Except for emerald-green lightning parting the sky.