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the　guard　be　increased。　Pozhar　didn’t　want　them　to　see　that　he　was　awake；　couldn’t　let　them　suspect
that　his　conscience　was　troubling　him。　The　back　of　his　right　hand　itched；　but　he　didn’t　dare　scratch
it。
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He　didn’t　know　why　he　had　done　it。
He　had　woken　from　a　vivid　and　troubling　dream；　had　perhaps　been　half…dreaming　still。　It　had
taken　him　a　minute　to　work　out　where　he　was；　to　identify　the　shapes　around　him　as　those　of　his
comrades；　to　see　the　vox…caster　on　the　floor　beside　the　hatchway；　to　remember…
In　the　dream；　Steele　had　contacted　the　Imperial　Navy　on　that　caster。　They　had　told　him　that　the
search　for　the　confessor　had　become　too　dangerous；　that　they　were　sending　another　lander　for　his
squad；　that　Cressida　was　to　be　left　to　its　new　masters。　The　details　were　hazy；　but　Pozhar　thought　he
remembered　an　army　of　cultists　and　mutants；　laughing。　Laughing　at　the　Ice　Warriors　as　they　turned
their　backs　on　their　mission；　as　they　turned　and　ran。
He　had　acted　on　instinct。　He　had　seen　that　Grayle　had　abandoned　his　post。　No　one　was　watching
him。　It　had　all　been　exactly　as　Blonsky　had　said：　one　las…beam；　one　squeeze　of　his　trigger。　He　hadn’t
even　thought　about　the　sound　it　would　make。　As　the　other　Ice　Warriors　had　woken；　Pozhar　had
dropped　back　onto　his　blanket　and　pretended　to　be　waking　too；　although　his　heart　had　been
hammering　in　his　chest　and　he　had　felt　a　cold　flush　down　his　back。
His　right　hand　was　itching　like　crazy　now。　He　shifted　his　position；　carefully；　until　he　could　reach
it　with　his　left。　Steele　and　Gavotski　had　searched　everyone；　again　as　Blonsky　had　suggested。　Pozhar
had　been　certain　he　would　pass　their　inspection；　but　still　he　had　felt　relieved　to　be　given　the　all…clear。
The　verdict　had　reaffirmed　his　belief　in　himself；　reassured　him　that　although　he　couldn’t　explain
what　he　had　done；　he　had　done　it　for　the　right　reasons。　For　the　Emperor。
His　questing　fingers　found　the　back　of　his　right　hand；　and　Pozhar　froze　in　horror　as　he　felt
something　unfamiliar；　something　strange；　something　that　had　not　been　there　an　hour　ago：　a　tuft　of
fur。
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CHAPTER　TEN
Time　to　Destruction　of　Cressida：　23。53。42
The　first　avalanche　was　a　small　one。
The　Ice　Warriors　had　been　expecting　it。　Still；　all　they　could　do　was　brace　themselves　as　the　snow
shifted　beneath　their　feet　—　and　hope；　of　course；　that　this　small　slide　would　not　trigger　a　bigger　one。
They　had　faced　a　choice　this　morning：　take　the　well…trodden　roads　to　Mangellan’s　stronghold；
the　erstwhile　Iota　Hive；　facing　the　likelihood　of　more　encounters　with　the　enemy　en　route；　or
attempt　to　approach　through　treacherous；　snow…laden　hills。　Steele；　being　unlike　many　other
commanders；　had　opened　the　question　to　debate。　It　had　been　the　only　time　so　far　today　that　his
troopers　had　spoken　more　than　two　words　to　each　other。
The　accusations　of　the　previous　night　hung　like　a　dark　cloud　over　them。　Even　Palinev；　although
still　scouting　ahead；　reported　back　more　frequently　than　he　had　done　yesterday；　as　if　thinking　that
too　long　an　absence　might　arouse　the　suspicions　of　his　comrades。　He　might　have　been　right。
Everyone　was　watching　each　other；　and　Steele　could　hardly　blame　them。　He　was　watching　too。
They　waited　for　the　snow　to　settle；　and　then　they　moved　on　in　silence。
As　they　rounded　the　edge　of　a　hill；　the　contours　of　the　land　brought　the　hive　back　into　view；　just
a　few　kilometres　ahead　of　them。　The　sight　made　Steele’s　stomach　turn。　Every　horizontal　surface　of
the　city　was　thick　with　snow；　every　vertical　plane　iced　over。　It　looked　unreal；　like　a　life…sized　model
sculpted　from　the　ice。　There　was　no　doubt　at　all　that　the　Chaos　infection　of　Cressida　had　Iota　Hive　in
the　firmest　of　grips；　had　corrupted　it　beyond　all　hope　of　reclamation。
This　morning；　Steele’s　squad　had　agreed　that　they　stood　a　better　chance　against　the　perils　of
their　environment　than　they　did　against　more　of　Mangellan’s　followers。　Even　Pozhar　had　not　argued
too　strongly　for　a　full…frontal　approach　to　the　hive。　In　fact；　he　seemed　unusually　subdued；　although
whether　this　was　due　to　the　events　of　last　night　or　to　his　damaged　gun　arm；　Steele　could　not　say。
He　was　starting　to　wonder　if　they　had　made　the　wrong　choice。
His　men　had　all　been　brought　up　on　Valhalla；　these　surroundings　looked　almost　familiar　to　them。
They　thought　they　knew　all　the　perils　that　the　snow　and　the　ice　could　bring；　were　alert　for　the
warning　signs　—　and　if　the　worst　should　happen；　as　it　had　on　the　frozen　lake；　then　they　thought　they
knew　how　to　minimise　the　consequences。　A　squad　from　any　other　world　would　have　been　dead　by
now；　for　the　Ice　Warriors　of　Valhalla；　this　was　just　a　morning　stroll。
But　as　Gavotski　had　pointed　out　inside　the　glacier；　the　water　on　this　world　had　been　infected　too。
And　the　snow　and　the　ice　didn’t　always　behave　as　it　should。
The　second　avalanche　was　bigger。　Much　bigger。
Steele　couldn’t　blame　anyone　in　his　squad　for　setting　it　off。　It　started　high　above　them；　and　came
crashing　down　at　them　like　a　tidal　wave。　It　might　have　been　a　natural　consequence　of　recent
snowfall　upon　hard…packed　ice　—　but　the　timing　of　it；　at　least；　was　suspicious。
The　Ice　Warriors；　minus　Palinev；　were　spread　out　across　a　hillside；　keeping　a　short　distance
between　each　of　them　in　case　of　just　such　an　occurrence　—　but　the　avalanche　was　in　the　perfect
spot；　and　exactly　wide　enough；　to　threaten　all　eight　of　them。
Barreski　and　Grayle　were　at　the　greatest　risk。　They　were　closest　to　the　centre　of　the　flow；　the
point　at　which　the　snow　would　be　moving　its　fastest。　They　knew　they　couldn’t　outrun　it　—　an
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avalanche　of　this　size　could　reach　a　speed　of　two　hundred　kilometres　per　hour　—　but　they　used　the
few　seconds　they　had　before　it　hit　to　make　a　sprint　for　its　edge；　as　did　their　comrades。
Gavotski　and　Steele；　who　had　been　respectively　leading　the　procession　and　following　at　its　rear；
had　the　least　far　to　go。　Steele　ran　for　all　he　was　worth；　but　still　it　wasn’t　enough。　It　could　never　have
been　enough。　He　turned　his　back　to　the　avalanche　as　it　reached　him；　and　prepared　for　the　impact。
It　felt　as　if　a　rug　had　been　pulled　out　from　under　him。　He　maintained　his　balance　for　as　long　as
he　could；　but　he　was　soon　swept　away。　He　pedalled　with　his　arms　and　legs；　as　if　swimming；
knowing　that　to　resist　the　tide　would　be　futile；　attempting　to　ride　it　instead。　The　landscape　flashed　by
to　each　side　of　him；　and　Steele　could　only　hope　that　he　wouldn’t　be　dashed　against　something　solid。
He　was　aware　of　Blonsky　being　carried　alongside　him　—　and　of　Anakora；　who　had　managed　to
grab　a　sturdy　tree　before　the　snow　hit　and　was　clinging　to　it　for　dear　life；　being　left　behind。　He　did
the　best　he　could　to　keep　track　of　them　both；　as　he　knew　they　would　be　doing　for　the　comrades　to
each　side　of　them。
Steele　went　under　several　times；　and　his　mind　flashed　back　to　the　frozen　lake。　He　was
determined　not　to　be　buried；　not　to　lose　consciousness　again　—　and　so；　each　time　he　was　engulfed；
he　kicked　and　he　thrashed；　and　he　put　all　the　strength　he　had　into　his　swimming　stroke；　and　he
resurfaced。
After　what　seemed　like　an　age；　it　was　over。　Steele　was　half…buried；　breathless；　but　still　able　to
dig　himself　free　and　climb　to　his　feet。　He　had　only　been　carried　a　short　distance；　but　his
surroundings　looked　very　different　to　him　now。　The　shifting　snow　had　formed　new　contours；　and
covered　old　landmarks。　Closing　his　one　good　eye；　the　colonel　reoriented　himself　by　his　internal
compass。
He　found　Anakora　first；　three　hundred　metres　up　the　slope　behind　him；　still　holding　onto　her
tree；　although　she　had　been　buried　up　to　the　chest。　She　was　stronger　than　she　looked；　he　thought。
She　was　also　safe。
He　couldn’t　say　the　same　for　Blonsky。　There　was　no　sign　of　him。　He　had　to　have　gone　under。
Steele　hurried　to　the　spot　at　which　he　had　last　seen　him；　and　soon　found　a　single　gloved　hand
protruding　from　the　snow；　its　fingers　waggling　in　a　feeble　attempt　to　summon　help。　Fortunately；　the
snow　hadn’t　set　too　hard　yet；　and　Steele　was　able　to　scoop　handfuls　of　it　away；　to　reveal　Blonsky’s
head。　A　minute　later；　he　had　freed　an　arm　too；　and　he　knew　his　trooper　could　do　the　rest　for　himself。
“G…Grayle；”　gasped　Blonsky；　raising　a　hand　to　point　—