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Bergen　rode　high　in　the　cupola　of　his　Chimera；　a　habit　he　had　developed　over　his　long　years　as　a
tank　commander。　He　remembered　those　times　fondly；　times　before　he　had　been　singled　out　for
greater　things。
Greater　things？　That　was　a　laugh。　Operation　Thunderstorm　had　gone　to　hell。　The　Munitorum
wouldn’t　want　to　lose　face。　They’d　expunge　it　from　the　Imperial　records　once　it　was　clear　how
spectacularly　it　had　failed。
It　hasn’t　failed　yet；　said　a　tiny　voice　in　the　back　of　his　mind；　but　another；　louder　voice　at　the
front　said；　hasn’t　it？
Bergen　tried　to　ignore　both　and　looked　up　at　the　sky。
The　cloaked　Golgothan　sun　was　close　to　its　zenith；　judging　by　the　bright　patch　in　the　thick　red
clouds　overhead。　At　this　altitude；　the　clouds　seemed　so　low　they　might　choke　him；　and　he
automatically　checked　that　his　rebreather　mask　and　goggles　were　firmly　in　place。
The　expedition　force　had　ascended　over　a　thousand　metres　already。
Where　in　the　blasted　warp　are　the　cogboys　taking　us；　he　wondered？
He　tried　to　look　back　down　the　mountainside　along　the　route　they　had　followed；　but　all　he　could
see　was　the　clouds　of　dust　kicked　up　by　the　line　of　coughing；　spluttering　vehicles　behind　him。　The
column　was　significantly　shorter　than　it　had　been　when　it　had　set　out　from　Balkar。　He　still　didn’t
know　exactly　how　many　had　died　rushing　the　ork　wall。
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He　felt　two　sharp　tugs　on　his　trouser　leg　and　dropped　back　down　into　the　Chimera’s　passenger
compartment。　His　adjutant　indicated　a　flickering　light　on　the　vox…caster。
“Major　General　Killian　wants　a　word；　sir；”　he　said。
Bergen　told　his　adjutant　to　patch　Killian　through；　and　then　spoke　through　the　tiny　vox…mic　built
into　his　rebreather　mask。
“Bergen　here；”　he　said。　“Go　ahead。”
“Gerard；　this　is　Klotus。　I’ve　just　had　a　vox　from　my　scout　captain。　Something　you　should
definitely　hear。”
“Go　ahead。　I’m　listening。”
“It’s　about　the　trail　we’re　following；”　said　Killian。　“We’re　not　the　first　to　tread　it。”
“So　the　orks　did　bring　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance　this　way？”　said　Bergen　in　genuine　surprise。
Whatever　he　had　expected；　it　hadn’t　been　that　the　tech…priests　might　be　telling　the　truth。
“Too　difficult　to　say；　the　tracks　are　vague；　all　but　eroded。　But　the　scouts　say　there　is　sign　of　at
least　one　vehicle　and　a　fair　number　of　foot　soldiers。”
“It　has　to　be　orks。　According　to　the　records；　we’re　the　first　Imperial　troops　to　set　foot　here　since
the　last　war。”
“Maybe。　But　not　everything　goes　into　the　records；　does　it？　And　it　depends　on　whose　records
we’re　talking　about。　There’s　no　way　the　tracks　are　thirty…eight　years　old。　I　can　tell　you　that　much。”
Bergen　sat　silent　for　a　moment。　It　had　to　be　orks。　It　just　had　to　be；　but；　if　the　tracks　were
Imperial；　it　meant　that　someone　else　had　got　here　first。　Why　hadn’t　Exolon　been　told？　By　all
accounts；　theirs　was　the　first　officially　sanctioned　mission　ever　to　attempt　a　recovery　of　Yarrick’s
tank。　If　the　tracks　they　followed　belonged　to　an　Imperial　force；　who　the　hell　were　they；　and　what
were　they　doing　here？
“Will　you　tell　me　the　moment　you　know　more？”
“Of　course　I　will；”　said　Killian。　“I　don’t　like　this　any　more　than　you　do。”
“You’ve　told　Rennkamp？　General　deViers？”
“About　to；”　said　Killian。
Bergen　thought　about　that。　“Why　did　you　come　to　me　first；　Klotus？”
Killian　hesitated；　perhaps　checking　for　a　second　that　the　channel　was　properly　encrypted。
“Because　deViers　has　been　losing　it　for　months。　We　both　know　it。　And　he’s　closer　to　cracking　right
now　than　I’ve　ever　seen　him。　If　he　has　some　kind　of　breakdown；　the　mission　will　fall　to　you。　And　so
will　our　survival。　I　want　to　get　off　this　rock　alive；　Gerard。　I’m　not　meant　to　die　here　and　neither　are
my　men。”
“Thanks　for　the　update；　Klotus；”　Bergen　said。　“Keep　me　posted；　won’t　you？”
“You’ve　got　it。　Killian　signing　off。”
The　light　on　the　vox…board　blinked　out。
In　Tech…Magos　Sennesdiar’s　specially　fitted　Chimera；　Tech…Adept　Xephous　hit　a　toggle　and
watched　a　similar　green　light　die。　He　turned　to　his　superior　and　said；　
　replied　Sennesdiar。　
There　was　a　moment　of　silence　as　each　of　the　Martian　priests　processed　the　ramifications　of　this。
It　was　Armadron　who　ultimately　broke　it。　
　Sennesdiar　replied。　
　said　Xephous。
141
　answered　Sennesdiar。　
　said　Xephous。
　said　Armadron；　
Wulfe　growled　as　another　wave　of　dust　smothered　him　and　his　tank。　If　he　didn’t　know　better；　he
would　have　said　the　New　Champion　was　churning　up　the　ground　deliberately　to　impair　his　vision；
but　all　the　tanks　were　suffering　the　same　problem。　The　trail　was　so　narrow　that　the　Imperial
machines　had　to　move　in　single　file。　As　the　convoy　climbed　higher　and　higher　into　the　mountains；
the　danger　increased。
Metzger　was　guiding　Last　Rites　II　carefully　along　a　crumbling　ridge　while　trying　to　keep　her　at　a
reasonable　speed。　Everyone　knew　that　the　orks　weren’t　far　behind；　though　they　couldn’t　be　sighted；
hidden　from　view　by　the　dust　and　the　drop…off。
Wulfe　took　a　look　to　his　right　and；　not　for　the　first　time；　felt　something　flip　inside　his　stomach。　A
vast　chasm　yawned　between　the　peak　they　were　ascending　and　the　next。　He　turned　his　eyes　to　the
front　again　and　felt　his　stomach　muscles　relax。
What　the　hell　are　we　doing　up　here；　he　asked　himself？　High　altitude　is　no　bloody　place　for　heavy
armour。
Wulfe　and　the　rest　of　the　Gunheads　were　near　the　rear　of　the　column；　part　of　an　armour
detachment　charged　with　defending　the　Thirty…Sixers　and　Heracles　halftracks　that　carried　most　of
the　remaining　supplies。　As　such；　the　orks　were　snapping　at　their　heels。　They　were　most　at　risk。
Behind　Last　Rites　II　came　Old　Smashbones　and　a　feajor
General　Rennkamp’s　12th　Mechanised　division。　Wulfe　didn’t　know　the　crews；　but　that　didn’t
matter。　Whatever　division　they　came　from；　the　Cadians　really　had　to　stick　together。　There　weren’t
all　that　many　left　of　them；　just　a　few　thousand　men　packed　tightly　into　a　few　hundred　machines。　By
contrast；　scouts　attached　to　the　rearguard　reported　ork　vehicles　pursuing　in　the　thousands。　Turning　to
face　them　was　not　an　option。　The　Cadians　could　only　keep　going　while　the　tech…priests　insisted　that
this　was　the　way。
Orks　or　not；　the　mountain　trail　was　proving　enough　of　a　challenge　on　its　own。
Still　looking　ahead；　trying　to　guide　his　driver　as　well　as　he　possibly　could　despite　the　dust；
Wulfe　decided　to　vox　Lieutenant　van　Droi。　Van　Droi　had　been　too　damned　quiet　since　learning　of
Colonel　Vinnemann’s　death。　It　wasn’t　like　him。
“Sword　Lead　to　Company　Command；”　he　said。　“This　is　Wulfe；　sir。　Please　respond；　over。”
“Company　here；　Wulfe；”　replied　van　Droi。　He　didn’t　sound　well。　“What　can　I　do　for　you？”
Wulfe　wondered　how　to　say　it　without　causing　offence。　“Just　reporting　in；　sir。　Still　quiet　back
here。　No　sign　of　the　orks　so　far。　I　don’t　suppose　it’s　too　much　to　hope　that　they　called　off　the
chase？”
“How　long　have　you　been　a　soldier；　Wulfe？”　said　van　Droi。　“You　know　better　than　that。”
“I　know；　sir；”　said　Wulfe。　“I　know。　Just　wishful　thinking。　Listen…　about　the　colonel；　sir…”
“What　about　him；　sergeant？”
The　lieutenant’s　tone　told　Wulfe　he　was　treading　dangerous　ground。　“I’ll　miss　him；　sir。　That’s
all。”
Van　Droi　was　silent　for　a　good　ten　seconds。　Wulfe　thought　the　lieutenant　had　actually　broken　the
link　for　a　moment；　but　then　van　Droi　said；　“You　know；　Oskar；　when　young　men　get　their　first
combat　posting；　it’s　as　if　they’re　suddenly　children