Flight Commander Gradeolous glanced up from his meal. His expression was not welcoming, and I found myself wondering again whether this was a mistake. But I needed answers from someone I trusted to speak the truth. Or, to be more precise, someone who lacked the wit to hold their tongue.

‘Flight Commander Gradeolous,’ I said, bowing. ‘Pardon the intrusion. I wondered if I might speak to you?’

He glanced from me to Kikazar, hovering behind my shoulder.

‘I thought you preferred speaking to Commander Shard,’ he replied as I took a seat opposite. The mess hall was reasonably crowded, the flight crews wolfing down their nutrient pastes, which is frankly the only way to keep the stuff down. But Gradeolous’ table was notable for the vacant chairs.

‘I do not always get the luxury of choosing my subjects,’ I replied. ‘I have my orders.’

‘As do we all,’ Gradeolous replied, tearing off a hunk of black bread. It seemed his repast was a little above the standard fare. Perhaps the privilege of being an officer, or perhaps he had a connection within the kitchen.

‘Might I conduct a short interview?’

‘Here?’ he said, frowning. ‘Whilst I’m eating?

‘Yes, it grants authenticity. Shows that even a hero such as yourself still eats and speaks like a normal man.’

‘Very well, a few questions then,’ he said, wiping his chin. ‘But be quick. I am set to fly once the craft is refuelled.’

‘How often do you see action?’

He shrugged. ‘As often as I can. I’d prefer to be out there now, except we have a shortage of fighters. And pilots, come to think of it. That damn ork attack was a serious setback.’

‘I’m still amazed they got this close.’

He tutted. ‘If you only knew.’ He retrieved a case from an inner pocket, flicked it open with his thumb and extracted a miniscule moustache comb.

‘I take it you cannot tell me?’

‘There are operational matters that are beyond you,’ he replied, teasing the corners of his moustache into place. ‘Let us just say it was a close one. Closer still, had you not raised the alarm.’

‘That was but luck,’ I said. ‘I would hate to rely upon it.’

‘True enough.’ Gradeolous nodded, returning his comb to the case. I thought his grooming concluded, until he produced a battered tin and commenced smoothing wax onto his whiskers.

‘Do you think the orks are becoming more aggressive? Or increasing in numbers?’

‘Hard to tell,’ he replied. ‘There are more in the air. But I suspect it’s more that their focus has shifted. Without the Aeronautica Imperialis, the ground troops would have been long overrun. We’ve been bombing them into oblivion – it’s no wonder they strive to meet us face to face, assuming you can mistake their ghastly visages for faces.’

‘And how formidable are their craft?’