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dead。　When　they　were　done；　Bergen　said；　“We’ll　find　more　of　them　out　there；　won’t　we？”
Katz　looked　grim。　“I　expect　so；　sir；　but　not　alive。　I　imagine　the　other　divisions　will　find　some
when　they　take　Tyrellis　and　Balkar；　but　the　orks　will　kill　them　before　they　can　be　saved。”　He
gestured　miserably　at　the　pile　of　bodies　in　front　of　him。　“There’s　nothing　we　could　have　done；　of
course。”
Bergen　saw　the　truth　of　that；　but　it　didn’t　make　him　feel　any　better。　These　people’s　lives　had
been　stolen　from　them　by　dirty　xenos　scum。　Their　spirits；　on　the　other　hand；　still　belonged　to　the
Emperor。
“Make　sure　the　confessors　are　told　of　this；　Jarryl。　I’d　like　the　souls　of　these　men　and　women　to
be　commended　to　the　Emperor’s　side　as　soon　as　possible。　I　know　the　priests　are　busy　with　our　own
dead　right　now；　but　these　bodies　will　have　to　be　burned。　I　don’t　want　the　outpost　crawling　with
disease　now　that　we’ve　taken　it　back。　Understood？”
“Understood；　sir；”　said　Katz。　“With　your　permission；　I’ll　be　about　it；　now。”
“Good　man；”　said　Bergen。　He　listened　to　his　adjutant’s　footsteps　fade　behind　him。
Above　Karavassa；　the　sky　was　dimming　with　the　onset　of　afternoon。　The　brown…bellied　clouds
looked　almost　low　enough　to　touch。　They　flickered　with　sheet　lightning。　Booming　claps　of　dry
thunder　shook　the　air。
A　crackle　of　sound　in　Bergen’s　right　ear　announced　a　short…range　vox…transmission　just　a
fraction　of　a　second　before　Colonel　Graves’　voice　said；　“Graves　to　Division　Command。　Are　you
there；　sir？”
Bergen　tapped　a　finger　on　the　transmit　stud　of　his　vox…bead　and　replied；　“Bergen；　here。　Go
ahead；　Darrik。”
“One　of　my　squads　just　reported　the　discovery　of　primary　and　secondary　ork　munitions　dumps；
sir；　plus　a　significant　fuel　reserve　by　the　south…east　corner。　Looks　like　they　didn’t　get　around　to
scuttling　it。　Also；　I’ve　set　up　sentry　patrols　on　the　walls；　as　ordered。　No　room　up　there　for　the
Tarantulas；　I’m　afraid；　unless　we　extend　the　parapets　ourselves。　One　more　thing；　sir。　Captain
Immrich　is　requesting　permission　to　refuel　his　tanks　from　the　greenskin　cache。”
“Immrich？”　asked　Bergen。
“Yes；　sir。　He’s　standing　in　for　Colonel　Vinnemann。　The　colonel　is　seeing　the　medicae
augmeticist　on　your　orders；　remember？”
“Right；　yes；”　voxed　Bergen。　“Tell　Captain　Immrich　to　go　ahead；　but　I　want　the　fuel　store
searched　for　nasty　surprises　first；　and　have　him　ask　one　of　the　tech…priests　for　a　substance　analysis
before　he　fills　up。　Emperor　alone　knows　what　the　orks　put　in　their　fuel　tanks　apart　from
promethium。”
“One　more　thing；　sir；”　said　Graves。　“Tech…Adept　Armadron　tells　me　his　preparations　are
complete。　A　vox…node　antenna　has　been　set　up　and　connected　to　the　landlines。　We’ve　just　opened　a
link　with　Army　Group　HQ。　The　sound　quality　isn’t　too　bad　at　all。　General　deViers　expects　you　to
report　personally　within　the　next　thirty　minutes。”
“Understood；　colonel。　I’ll　be　back　at　the　comms　station　in　ten。　Meet　me　there。　Division；　out。”
Bergen　turned　and　began　marching　back　towards　the　centre　of　the　outpost；　retracing　his　steps
along　streets　filled　with　rusting　junk　and　reeking　of　ork　blood　and　excrement。　He　was　glad　of　a
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reason　to　leave　the　piled　bodies　of　the　murdered　slaves　behind　him；　but　the　image　of　what　he　had
seen　stayed　with　him；　a　powerful　memory　that　he　would　draw　on　later。
It　would　fuel　his　hate　in　the　days　to　come。
Three　days　after　Karavassa　was　secured；　Major　General　Rennkamp’s　8th　Mechanised　Division
moved　up　to　take　the　old　Imperial　supply　base；　Tyrellis；　located　in　the　Garrando　region　of　the　desert
to　the　east…south…east　of　Bergen’s　position。　Resistance　was　fractionally　lighter　than　at　Karavassa；
and　the　troopers　might　have　been　in　high　spirits　had　it　not　been　for　the　increase　in　sickness　and
parasitic　infestation　that　they　suffered。　The　flesh…boring　dannih　were　a　constant　nuisance。　Orders
had　gone　out　for　the　men　to　shave　their　heads　and　remove　any　thick　body　hair　in　order　to　help
combat　the　problem。　Some　troopers；　preferring　to　drink　their　valuable　alcohol　rations　rather　than　use
them　to　get　rid　of　the　vicious　ticks；　developed　nasty　infections。　Others　reported　to　the　medicae
station　with　skin　so　saturated　by　the　fines　that　they　looked　as　if　they　had　been　bathing　in　spinefruit
juice。　The　jokes　and　taunts　didn’t　last　long。　The　worst　afflicted　men　suffered　so　badly　from　the
resulting　sickness　that　they　died。　It　was　a　miserable　way　to　go；　organs　clogged　by　accumulating
dust；　failing　one　after　the　other　until　the　whole　body　shut　down。　That　cast　a　dark　shadow　over　those
who　survived；　for　they　knew　it　was　only　a　matter　of　time　before　their　own　cells　became　choked　with
the　stuff。　The　quicker　the　general　gained　his　prize；　they　grumbled；　the　better。
In　that　respect；　at　least；　things　were　proceeding　well。　It　was　apparent　that　the　greenskin　presence
between　Hadron　Base　and　the　last　known　coordinates　of　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance　had　been　greatly
overestimated。　It　seemed　Ghazghkull　Thraka’s　pogrom　against　mankind　had　called　far　more　of　the
orks　away　from　Golgotha　than　the　Officio　Strategos　had　anticipated。　This　alone　remained　in
Exolon’s　favour；　for　if　the　orks　were　proving　less　of　a　threat；　Golgotha　was　doing　her　level　best　to
make　up　for　it。
Bergen　and　the　men　of　his　division　remained　garrisoned　in　Karavassa；　anxiously　patrolling　the
surrounding　lands；　waiting　impatiently　for　the　general’s　order　to　move　east。　That　order　was　expected
to　come　through　on　the　landline　once　the　fortified　settlement　at　Balkar　—　last　of　the　major　outposts
needed　to　secure　the　route　between　Hadron　Base　and　the　site　of　the　objective　—　had　been　retaken
by　the　12th　Heavy　Infantry　Division　under　Major　General　Killian。　Until　then；　there　was　little　to　do
but　wait；　and；　with　time　on　his　hands；　Bergen　began　to　notice　little　things　that　worried　him；　such　as
the　subtle　change　in　the　tone　of　his　skin。　Each　time　he　shaved；　he　looked　into　the　mirror　and　noted
the　deepening　pink　tinge　that　coloured　the　whites　of　his　eyes。　He　was　far　from　alone　in　this。　Medicae
staff　had　issued　everyone　in　the　division　with　detox　packages　to　help　them　combat　the　fines；　but
they　didn’t　seem　to　be　doing　much　good。　Bergen　had　pressed　Sergeant　Behr；　the　medic　on　his
personal　staff；　for　worst　case　scenarios。
The　sergeant’s　answers　offered　little　comfort。
There　were　wildly　varying　levels　of　resistance　between　men。　The　hardiest　would　hold　out　for
months；　perhaps　even　a　standard　Imperial　year；　but　the　symptoms　would　steadily　worsen　throughout
that　time。　Growing　headaches　and　nausea　could　be　dealt　with　easily　enough；　the　pills　to　suppress
these　were　plentiful。　For　the　changes　in　skin　and　eye　colour；　and　the　damage　to　organs；　nothing
could　be　done　ent　and　facilities　at　hand。　Despite　Sergeant　Behr’s　insistence　that　it
would　make　little　difference；　Bergen　nevertheless　issued　new　orders　to　his　men：　they　must　wear
goggles　and　rebreather　masks　as　much　as　possible。
If　the　able…bodied　men　of　10th　Division　were　suffering；　though；　it　was　as　nothing　compared　to
Colonel　Vinnemann’s　pain。　Day　after　day；　Bergen　marvelled　at　the　colonel’s　resilience。　The　man
rarely　uttered　a　word　of　complaint；　at　least　not　in　company；　but；　between　the　dust　and　the　higherthan…
standard　gravity；　his　augmetic　spine　was　bothering　him　like　never　before。　The　Medicae
augmeticist　kept　Bergen　informed　of　Vinnemann’s　condition；　breaking　his　oath　of　patient
confidence　for　the　sake　of　keeping　the　divisional　leader　fully　apprised。　Colonel　Vinnemann　had
been　authorised　to　increase　his　self…administered　injections　of　immunosuppressants　and　pain69
mediators；　but　the　drugs　were　problematic　if　taken　in　high　quantities。　Bergen；　who　held　great
affection　and　respect　for　the　resilient　little　officer；　began　to　offer　daily　prayers　to　the　Emperor　and
His　Saints　that　Operation　Thunderstorm　would　come　to　a　speedy　conclusion。　To　lose　Vinnemann
prematurely　would　be　a　huge　blow　to　the　expedition。　To　lose　him　at　all　would　be　a　huge　blow　to　the
men　who　knew　him。
Finally；　on　the　fifteenth　day　after　planetfall；　it　seemed　as　if　the　Emperor　might　be　listening　to
Gerard　Bergen’s　prayers。
Reports　started　coming　through　on　the　landline。　With　Karavassa　and