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‘The Phantine XX are Imperial Guard. We stand here, on this world, willing and eager to fly alongside the fine aviators of the Navy, in a cooperative venture for the good of mankind. In the spirit of that cooperation, I accept your censure and offer my apologies. But please do not presume to lecture me again. It would open a can of worms, sirs, and likely involve the offices of the lord militant and the Commissariat. Our lives are too full and too urgent for such wasteful complications.’
They settled in with extraordinary simplicity, Raptors and Umbra mixed. Cooperation at last. No grandstanding, no pecking order. Just air warriors, uniting without argument for a common good. ‘Lead to wing, compliments to all. This is how the Imperium conquers its foes.’
‘They’re shot glasses,’ said Del Ruth flatly, staring at her own. ‘They’re either full or empty. Anything else, and someone isn’t trying.’
‘If a member of my flight spoke like that, I’d have them up on charges. There’s always a chance. While we still breathe, by the grace of the Emperor, there’s still a chance.’
Jagdea did what all pilots have done since the beginning of aviation. She leaned over and flicked the glass dial with the fingers of her good hand. As with all pilots since the beginning of aviation, it made no difference.
I’m sorry to say. War is not conducive to competent record management. And the withdrawal from the Peninsula, well… let’s just say whole sections of the data archive are missing or inaccurate.
