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That’s why Darrow’s fellow staffers and crew were laughing and joking。 They didn’t want to
have to look at the Imperials； hovering like vultures over a corpse。
Darrow felt like dropping his own kitbag and returning the stares。 Supercilious bastards！ You
think we wanted this？ You think we’re grateful you show up now？ Go screw yourselves。 We fought
for Enothis； we bled； we died。 Thanks to us； it’s still here to fight for。 We did the hard work； now you
sweep in to get the glory。 And so help me； you had better get the glory。 You had better win； or…
or…
“Darrow！ Darrow！”
He turned。 Major Heckel had appeared on the station steps； waving at him。 He made his way
back through the mass of personnel to reach him。
“Congratulations； sir；” he said。
“What？”
“I saw you’d been posted to Quarry Flight。”
A muscle under Heckel’s left eye ticked slightly。 “Yes。 Ah； yes。 Lucky me。 They’ve got to keep
us old hands going； I suppose。”
Heckel made a high…pitched little laugh； a false sound。 His eye ticked again。
“You wanted me； sir？”
“Oh； yes；” said Heckel。 He reached into the pocket of his flight coat and produced a docket
wafer。 It was sealed。 Darrow’s name was printed on the flap。 Darrow noticed how badly Heckel’s
hand was quaking as he passed it to him。 “This is for you。”
Darrow tore open the wafer。
“Eads had it sent down。 I think he was feeling sorry for you。 It’s not active as such； but he says
he hopes it will do。”
“He’s… he’s posting me to Operations。 Effective immediate。” Darrow grinned。 Heckel was
right； it wasn’t active； but it would mean he’d stay at Theda； and be part of the real thing。
“Thanks；” he said。
“Just the messenger；” shrugged Heckel。
“You put in a good word； I’m sure。”
Heckel shrugged again； but he was grinning this time。 Then his expression grew serious。 “Just
between you and me； Darrow。 The enemy got airspace reach into the Lida Valley yesterday。 The
schedule’s really moved up。 The Navy’s decided it needs local experts who are familiar with the
topography to guide them； so they asked Eads to consult at Operations。 He told me he wanted a few
good bodies to assist him。 I suggested you； and a couple of others who’d been moved to reserve。”
“Thank you； sir。 I really appreciate it。”
Heckel nodded。 “Just do a good job； Darrow。”
Darrow put down his pack and saluted his former leader。
“Darrow；” Heckel said。 His face had a strange； wistful look。 “Darrow； do you think they know
I’m sorry？”
“Who； sir？”
“The cadets。 Hunt Flight。 Emperor save us； so many of them died。”
“You did everything you could； sir。”
Heckel breathed deeply。 “You know； Darrow？ That’s just what I’m afraid of。”
Heckel picked up his pack； patted Darrow on the arm； and hurried away towards the transports。
52
Theda MAB South； 15。34
“She’s jinxed； isn’t she？” Milan Blansher said。
“Who’s that； sir？” asked Hemmen； the chief fitter。 In the shadow of the great hangar； his team
was working on the refit of Espere’s Thunderbolt。 The air was popping with the rattle of power
ratchets。
“Her；” Jagdea said； pointing at the wounded machine。
“Serial Nine…Nine？” Hemmen shook his head。 “I couldn’t possibly comment； mamzel
commander。”
Jagdea shook her head and led Blansher out of the bam。 The field was clear apart from Umbra
Flight’s birds； and a thundering pack of Commonwealth Interceptors taxiing for take…off。
“Espere？” Blansher asked。
“Forget it。 He’ll be out for months。 And even with augmetics； he’s a wreck。”
“So we’re a man down？”
“Yes。 I asked Navy reserve； but they said every able pilot was committed。 Unless there’s
suddenly a bird down and a pilot recovered； or a bird malfunctioned。 God…Emperor； Mil； this
warfront’s stretched really thin。 Every man； every plane； thrown in。 I think this could be the big
one。”
“What do you mean？”
“The decider。 The Archenemy’s got the Crusade trapped； over…extended。 They’re attacking here
and at Herodor。 That’s the latest news。 Either planet falls； and the Crusade line gets beheaded。 Snip；
good night。 Goodnight Warmaster Macaroth。 Goodnight us； and goodnight Crusade。 If our line
breaks here； they’ll be all over us like a bodybag。”
“We’d better fly our balls off then；” Blansher said。
She smiled。 “Speak for yourself。”
“How’s Marquall？”
She shrugged。 “Still trying to heave the soles of his feet out through his mouth in the shower
block。 I thought about slipping him some detox tabs； but then I had a bad attack of what the hell。 A
crippling hangover is the Emperor’s way of making us remember our mistakes。”
“He blames himself for Espere？”
“Yes； he does。”
“Should he？” Blansher asked。
Jagdea shrugged。 Her reply was totally drowned out by the squadron of prop planes taking to the
air。 “Say again？” said Blansher。
“Marquall screwed up。 He flew like a virgin and made just about every mistake going。 Espere
was covering him。 So； yes… he should。 But he’s also a decent pilot。 I know that。 We need him； and
we need him back； confident； learning from his mistakes。”
“I still don’t know how you trawled him in；” Blansher said。
“Doesn’t matter。 I had help。 Not the sort of help I wanted； but… Well； it worked。”
Blansher shrugged。
“I’ll tell you one day；” Jagdea smiled。
“I’m up at 18。30； I believe；” Blansher said。
“And Larice is taking a unit four out at 21。40。 I’ll stand doentis。”
“Good flying；” he said； and jogged away to check on his machine。
I wish people would stop saying that； Jagdea thought。
Palace Pier； 15。50
Night had arrived early and a wan darkness had settled over the sea。 It looked as if a storm was
brewing。 Afternoon trade had been bad all week； and now with a gloomy pall spreading in the west；
53
it had dried up altogether。 Beqa sent Latrice home； and closed up early。 It would make a change。 A
few extra hours’ sleep。
She was locking the cafe door when the man appeared。 There was a brisk wind coming off the
foreshore； tugging at her coat and buffeting her； so she hadn’t heard him walk up。
“Oh！” she exclaimed； jumping。 It was the sad…faced pilot who’d never tasted shellfish。 He was
huddled in a heavy leather coat。
“Are you closed？” he asked。
“Ah； yes；” she said； brushing wind…tugged hair out of her eyes。 “Sorry。 There was no one around
this afternoon。 Didn’t like the look of the weather； I suppose。”
He glanced up at the sky； as if he hadn’t really noticed。 The first few spats of rain were falling。
“I understand；” he said。 “I got a decent walk at least。 Good afternoon； mamzel。”
“Wait；” she called after him。 Beqa shook her head at herself。 She was too soft for her own good。
“You’re hungry； aren’t you？”
“A little；” he admitted。
She unlocked the door。 “Come on。 I’ll make you something。”
“But you’re closed。”
“I can open again。”
She had him sit at the table he’d chosen the day before while she went behind the counter；
turned on the water heater and started looking through the pantry bins。 Viltry noticed she didn’t
change the card in the window。 The cafe was still shut to others。
“This is very kind of you；” he called。
“It’s no problem。 You don’t like fish； do you？”
“I don’t really know。”
“You’re in luck。 We have some salt…ham today。”
The storm closed in； turning the sky as dark as twilight。 Beqa turned on the cafe’s oil…lamps。
Rain began to patter and drum against the windows and the skylights； running down them in torrents
so they seemed to be melting。 The whole pier creaked gently as the sea stirred around it。
She’d never been out at the pier…end during a storm before。 It felt unnerving； and half of her
wished she’d simply been firm with him and gone home。 The whole place felt exposed and
vulnerable； alone amid the turbulent elements。 It was like riding aboard some fragile craft though a
maelstrom。
He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered。
When she brought his food and drink； she sat down with him。
“You’re an aviator； sir？”
“Yes。” He took a bite。 “This is really very good。 I don’t think I’d realised how hungry I was。”
“Imperial Navy？” she asked。
He shook his head and wiped his lips with a napkin。 “Sort of； I suppose。 Imperial Phantine Air
Corps。 My name’s Viltry。 Oskar Viltry。”
“Beqa Mayer。” He held out his hand and shook hers courteously。
“Thank you for your hospitality； mamzel。 And act of kindness towards a stranger to your world。”
“Seeing as you’ve come here to risk your life fighting for my world； I think a plate of ham and
bread is the least I can do。”
He stopped eating suddenly and frowned。 “I… I know you from somewhere； don’t I？”
“I was here yesterday。”
“No； somewhere else。”
“The templum； early the other day。 You held the door for me。”
“Yes； that’s it。” An especially fierce gust of wind rattled the windows and threw the rain against
the glass with renewed vigour。
54
“I suppose this place will stand up to a storm？” Viltry asked。
“I think it’d take a lot to bring the palace down；” she replied。
It was another hour before the storm abated enough for them to want to risk a dash back towards
the town。 Refilling his cup； she chatted idly； to no real point； as if simply letting go of conversation
that loneliness had dammed up inside her。 Viltry was content just to listen。 His day had been
terrible： the savage air…brawl； the panic and fear。 The bats had locked them up so long； they’d finally
been forced to ditch their payloads and turn back on the long； exposed slog for home。 No target
destroyed。 No target even seen。 Just a portion of the Dish of Sand heat…fused into glass。 Halo had
lost no one； but five of its machines had been damaged； and several crewmen hurt。 K for Killshot
had been unable to do more than crawl home。 Part of its pay…load had been hung； and Viltry feared
that even if it got back； it might stumble on landing and be annihilated by its own munitions。 But
they’d made it。 Three of Egsor’s wing； and two Thunderbolt escorts； however； had not。
Some aviators dealt with the pressure of a combat tour by drinking； or hedonistic escapes； others
by sounding off about what had happened to anybody in the crew room who’d listen。 That had never
been Viltry’s way。 These days； he was afraid that if he started talking； he wouldn’t be able to stop。
But listening to the woman talk eased him。 It was like an antidote to the tension of combat。 It
gave him a touch of perspective； reminded him the universe was not simply him； harnessed into a Gchair；
waiting for Fate’s wheel to turn。 Her life was evidently hard。 She was forced to work two
shifts： here during the day； and overnight at the munitions manufactory。 She was worried about the
tide of the war。 Fresh food was getting harder to come by。 What if the cafe was forced to close？ She
had a brother called Eido； who was serving in the land army。 She’d not heard from him for over
three months； since the fighting at the gates of the Trinity Hives。 He’d be home soon； she was
convinced。 She lit a candle for him every day。
“I light three： one for Gart； one for Eido and one for whoever else needs it。”
Viltry smiled。 “I’ll remember that。 Pardon me； but who’s Gart？”
“My husband； Commander Viltry。 He was a pilot officer in the Commonwealth PDF。 He was
lost over the desert the winter before last。”
“I’m sorry； mamzel。 Is he listed missing？”
She shook her head。 “I can assure myself my brother is alive； because I’ve not had proof
otherwise。 But Gart is dead。”
The Commonwealth had given her a widow’s pension； but that had dried up when the war…effort
took its latest bad turn。 Hence the two jobs。 The lack of sleep。
Viltry noticed that the rain had eased。 There was a lightness back in the sky。 She would be late
for her shift if they didn’t take advantage of the break。
She locked the cafe doors； and they hurried down the wet boardwalk towards the town； where
the evening lamps were coming on。
55
DAY 255
Theda MAB South； 08。00
“I’m reporting as ordered；” Darrow told the Navy guardsman under the adamantite portico。 The
guardsman looked at Darrow’s docket wafer and nodded him through。
From the outside； Operations could have been mistaken for a Ministorum chapel built in the
muscular Early Ornate style。 But the many soaring spires and fi