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and　bring　down　the　lifter？
Thinking　of　the　tech…priests；　he　put　out　a　verification　call。　Were　they　still　alongside　him？　What
was　their　condition？
Tech…Magos　Sennesdiar　answered　the　call　personally。　His　tinny　voice　was　disturbingly　calm。
“Worry　not；　general。　We　are　still　with　you。　But　you　must　ensure　that　our　vehicles　are　adequately
protected。　If　anything　were　to　happen　to　them；　your　mission　would　end　prematurely。　Given
atmospheric　conditions；　only　we　can　signal　the　fleet　for　evacuation。”
It　almost　sounded　like　a　threat　to　deViers；　but　that　didn’t　make　it　untrue。
“We’ve　got　a　solid　rearguard　in　place；”　answered　the　general。　“The　orks　at　our　backs　will　not
take　us；　even　if　my　men　have　to　die　to　guarantee　our　window　of　escape。　And　the　armour　ahead　is
holding　a　road　east　for　us　as　we　speak。　If　you　can　think　of　anything　I’m　forgetting；　don’t　hold　your
tongue！”
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Actually；　he　doubted　the　old　Martian　priest　still　had　a　tongue。　He　doubted　he　had　a　soul；　either。
If　only　the　damned　Mechanicus　could　have　been　kept　out　of　all　this。　No　doubt　they　would　try　to
claim　some；　if　not　all；　of　the　glory　of　the　imminent　recovery。　He　wouldn’t　let　that　happen。　He
would…
No；　Mohamar；　he　told　himself。　It　isn’t　the　time　to　think　about　that。
“General　deViers　to　all　divisional　commanders；”　he　voxed。　“Status　report。　Now！”
“Armour　in　position　and　holding　the　corridor；”　replied　Bergen。　“North　and　south　parallels
secure；　sir；　but　let’s　not　gamble　on　holding　them　any　longer　than　necessary。　We’ve　taken　losses　all
across　the　board。”
“Rennkamp　here。　I’ve　split　my　infantry　to　support　Bergen’s　armour　on　both　sides　of　the
corridor。　I’m　working　with　Killian　to　forge　east。　Forward　elements　are　pushing　away　from　the
battle。”
“Major　General　Killian？”　voxed　deViers。
“Here；　sir。　My　forward　elements　report　a　clean　run　on　the　far　side　of　the　corridor。　No　large　ork
structures　to　speak　of；　but　the　terrain　gets　rough　a　few　kilometres　out。　The　Ishawar　peaks　aren’t　far；
sir。　If　we　keep　heading　east；　we’ll　soon　be　moving　into　the　foothills。”
“That’s　exactly　where　we　want　to　go；　major　general；”　said　deViers。　“That’s　where　she　waits。”
It　took　all　Bergen’s　efforts　just　to　make　sense　of　the　constant　vox…chatter　that　sounded　in　his　ears。
The　corridor　was　holding；　but　the　rearguard　had　been　engaged　by　the　orks　from　the　south。　Their
light　armour　wasn’t　a　serious　threat；　but　he　had　seen　this　all　before。　The　orks　used　their　fast　trucks；
bikes　and　buggies　to　slow　prey　down　while　they　moved　the　heavy　stuff　up　for　the　kill。　It　wouldn’t
happen　like　that　today。　The　18th　Army　Group　couldn’t　afford　to　turn　and　fight。
DeViers　was　pushing　everything　he　had　left　into　a　desperate　dash；　but　what　the　devil　would　he
do　when　he　got　there？　Bergen　wondered。　The　orks　would　be　coming　right　along　behind　them；　right
on　their　tail。　There　would　be　a　face　off；　sooner　or　later。　It　would　be　a　straight；　stand…up　fight；　and　the
Cadians　were　looking　at　bad　odds。
Immrich　seemed　to　be　holding　up；　at　least。　Bergen　had　worried　that　the　news　of　Vinnemann’s
death　might　undo　him；　but　battle　had　a　way　of　keeping　a　man’s　priorities　in　order。　There　would　be
time　for　sorrow　and　mourning　later。　Right　now；　the　fight　for　survival　was　keeping　him　together。
Bergen’s　driver；　Meekes；　called　back　to　him　that　they　were　through　the　breach。　Bergen　would
have　known　it　anyway。　The　sound　of　battle　was　deafening。　He　moved　into　the　Chimera’s　turret　to
get　a　look　through　the　vision　blocks。　All　around　him；　he　saw　Imperial　machines　blasting　away　with
everything　they　had。　Dead　xenos　lay　in　dense　heaps　all　around；　but　every　second；　hundreds　more
clambered　over　the　corpse…mountains　to　add　their　fire　to　the　battle。　Pistol　and　stubber　fire　danced
and　ricocheted　off　the　Chimera’s　hull。　There　were　other　weapons；　too。　The　orks　seemed　to　have
developed　las　and　plasma　analogues。　Could　it　be　that　they　were　learning　from　their　battles　with　the
Guard？
“Keep　your　speed　up；”　he　told　Meekes。　“There’s　no　time　to　join　the　fight。　The　sooner　we’re
clear　and　running　for　the　hills；　the　sooner　we　can　pull　our　armour　back　in　behind　us。”　And　the
sooner　deViers　will　realise　that　this　was　a　bloody　wild　grox　chase　from　the　start；　he　thought。
He　knew　Rennkamp　and　Killian　were　thinking　the　same　thing。　All　three　men　seemed　to　have　a
silent　understanding。　DeViers　was　out　of　control。　His　ambition　had　become　an　obsession；　and　the
obsession　had　led　to　madness。　Look　where　his　haste；　his　impatience；　had　got　them：　orks　left　and
right；　orks　at　the　rear。　It　was　a　blasted　miracle　that　Exolon　had　survived　this　long。
He　saw　Vinnemann’s　tanks　—　no；　Immrich’s　tanks　—　blasting　away　for　all　they　were　worth；
great　tongues　of　flame　and　beams　of　las…fire　leaping　out　from　their　weapons。　No；　he　thought；　it’s
nothing　to　do　with　miracles。　It’s　them。　It’s　their　determination；　their　refusal　to　lie　down　and　die。
Vinnemann　lived　on　in　them。
131
They　were　Cadians；　and　he　was　damned　proud　of　them　all。
“Immrich　to　all　tanks；”　voxed　the　captain。　“The　command　staff　are　clear。　Rear　echelons　are　through。
I　want　all　machines　to　fall　in　by　company。　We　run　east；　but　keep　your　turrets　covering　the　rear。
There’ll　be　more　ork　machines　coming　through　that　breach　once　we　move　off。　Keep　your　speed　up。
They’ll　be　chasing　us　all　the　way。　Let’s　make　it　as　unpleasant　as　possible　for　the　bastards。”
Wulfe　listened　carefully；　and　then　relayed　the　information　to　Metzger。　In　formation　with　the
tanks　on　either　side；　Last　Rites　II　started　rolling　again；　still　firing　as　she　went。
The　orks　on　foot　rushed　into　the　space　left　by　the　departing　Imperial　machines；　but　they　couldn’t
hope　to　match　the　speed　of　the　fleeing　armour。　Wulfe　watched　the　tide　of　brown　bodies　grow
smaller。　He　could　still　see　the　breach；　but　the　light　that　shone　through　from　the　other　side　was　cut　off
by　massive　angular　shadows；　the　first　rows　of　reinforcing　ork　armour　moving　through　to　give　chase。
They　could　only　come　through　three　abreast。　That’ll　slow　them　down；　thought　Wulfe。　If　the　top
brass　hadn’t　been　in　such　a　damned　hurry　to　move；　we　could　have　used　the　bottleneck　to　slaughter
the　filthy　sods。　What　the　hell　are　the　brass　thinking？　If　we　come　back　this　way；　we’ll　have　to　go
through　this　all　over　again。
Metzger　was　pushing　Last　Rites　II　along　at　full　speed；　tearing　up　the　ground。　There　was　nothing
orderly　about　the　retreat。　It　was　a　mad；　desperate　flight。　There　was　an　undeniable　sense　of　panic　and
disorder　about　the　whole　thing。　Wulfe　hoped　someone　knew　what　they　were　doing；　because　right
now；　he　couldn’t　see　a　good　end　to　any　of　this。
As　the　ork　wall　disappeared　behind　the　Imperial　column　in　clouds　of　dust；　smoke　and　heat…haze；
Wulfe　turned　his　attention　straight　ahead　and　saw　the　Ishawar　mountain　range　rising　above　him。
They　dominated　the　landscape；　towering　over　everything　like　dark；　glowering　gods。　The　foothills
were　much　nearer。　The　land　was　already　rising　to　meet　them。
We’re　going　up；　thought　Wulfe？
Looking　back　the　way　he’d　come；　he　saw　the　sun’s　dull　red　glow　behind　the　clouds。　It　was
barely　visible；　just　peeking　now　and　then　from　cracks　in　the　thick　cover。　Night　would　be　coming
soon。　That　would　help。　Orks　didn’t　cover　so　much　ground　at　night。　He　remembered　the　Kasrkin　he
had　met　earlier　—　the　tooth　collector　from　Stromm’s　98th　—　and　the　general　belief　that　orks　were
highly　superstitious。　Wulfe　wondered　if　that　extended　to　feelings　about　the　dark。　Mankind　had
always　held　a　special　fear　of　the　night。　It　was　a　primal　thing。　Even　now；　Throne　only　knew　how
many　millions　of　years　since　mankind’s　mastery　of　fire；　it　was　still　deeply　ingrained。　The　darkness
was　to　be　feared。　Did　the　orks　feel　something　similar？
Wulfe　dropped　down　into　the　turret　basket；　reached　up；　and　locked　the　hatch　of　his　cupola。
Sitting　in　his　command　seat；　battle　having　turned　to　flight；　he　allowed　his　exhaustion　to　finally
settle　on　him。　His　muscles　ached。　Straining　against　a　growing　stiffness；　he　lifted　a　jerrycan　from　a
rack　on　the　floor　and　took　a　mouthful　of　lukewarm　water。　Siegler　and　Beans　were　looking　at　him
expectantly。　Beans　in　particular　looked　keen　for　his　sergeant　to　speak。
Wulfe　nodded　at　them；　but