‘At least he is forthright. And honest.’

‘Honesty is commendable unless the speaker is an imbecile. Then it is just an idiot perpetrating a falsehood.’

‘You don’t know his reasoning.’

‘I do. I just don’t care.’

‘Then what do you say?’ I asked. ‘I heard you dismiss this mythical pilot known as the Green Storm when you were bragging to the troops.’

‘And what would you have me say?’ she snapped. ‘That we have lost fighters to an enemy we cannot even see? Do you think that would reassure them? They need a focus for their hate. You want the truth of war? The truth is we face endless greenskins. For morale’s sake we need to designate special targets. Then we crow that the Bringer of Flame is brought low! A victory! We celebrate their demise, pretending that a dozen more ork fighters won’t soon take to the skies, each seeking to make an even greater name. It never ends, and no single pilot really makes a blind bit of difference.’

‘Including you?’

‘Oh no, that’s different. Flight Commander Lucille von Shard can single-handedly liberate a planet with two hunter-killer missiles and half a tank of promethium.’

‘I see. And does she always refer to herself in the third person?’

‘When the mood takes her,’ Shard replied. ‘Now pipe down, I need to concentrate on the mission.’

She would not speak further, so I chose to focus on my own project, recording our flight. But the initial excitement was waning. Besides the ascent and brief excursion into space, there was little worth capturing. The Thunderbolts were below us, but they remained locked in formation, and one pict of them was sufficient. We were so high the ground was a blur to even Mizar’s sensors.

After perhaps an hour I made the mistake of raising this issue.

‘Is there a chance we could briefly fly lower?’ I said. ‘I cannot capture much from this altitude.’

Shard stiffened. She flicked a few switches, engaging the automated pilot systems, before turning fully in the chair, unclasping her faceplate so she could look me in the eyes.

‘Descend?’ she said.

‘I merely meant–’

‘Do you understand how bombers work?’ she continued. ‘The guiding principle is you fly very high and drop bombs on things far below. Do you understand?’

‘Obviously. I merely–’

‘Are you certain?’ she persisted, raising her hand to eye level and manoeuvr­ing it as though it were a plane. ‘Because this, my hand? This is us flying.’

Her fingers swayed back and forth, whilst she made accompanying sound effects. I knew better than to interrupt and extend my suffering.

‘The bombs come out here,’ she said, using her other hand to indicate the release of an explosive. ‘Once we start dropping them the greenskins tend to notice. They shoot back, or send up their own craft. Our best defence is maintaining altitude and hoping their engines stall before they reach us.’