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this　very　moment。　Suddenly　it　was　as　sharp　as　a　high…resolution　pictograph。
Troopers　were　spilling　out　of　trucks　and　halftracks　around　his　Chimera。　The　beams　from　their
torches　cut　like　sabres　through　the　murk　as　their　sergeants　led　them　down　alleys　and　avenues；　each
footstep　kicking　up　little　puffs　of　dust。　“Safeties　off！”　he　heard　one　sergeant　call　out　as　he　passed
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within　a　few　metres　of　Pride　of　Caedus。　“If　there　are　any　bloody　xenos　here；　we’ll　be　ready　for
them。”
Bergen　doubted　the　barking　sergeant　would　find　any　xenos　alive　down　here。　This　place　was　as
dead　as　the　desert　they　had　ridden　through　to　get　here。　He　could　feel　it。　More　so；　in　fact；　for　there
was　life　in　the　desert　if　one　only　knew　where　to　look。　This　place　had　all　the　atmosphere　of　a
mausoleum。
That　was　changing　even　as　he　watched。　After　the…Throne…knew　how　many　millennia　of　utter
silence　and　stillness；　Dar　Laq　was　filling　with　bustle　and　noise。　It　seemed　an　almost　sacrilegious
intrusion。　Bergen　watched　the　troopers　march　off　until　they　were　lost　behind　the　rows　of　blocky
alien　structures。
Each　of　the　buildings　he　looked　at　raised　the　same　questions　in　his　mind。　Where　were　the　doors？
Where　were　the　windows？　There　seemed　no　obvious　access　points　to　any　of　them。
General　deViers　had　questions；　too。　Bergen　heard　him　bark　out　a　short　order　on　the　vox；　and
powerful　searchlights　came　on　one　at　a　time；　reaching　out　for　the　ceiling　and　the　far　walls　with　their
brilliant　white　beams。　For　the　first　time；　Bergen　saw　massive　towers　standing　tall　over　all　the　other
structures。　He　looked　up　in　wonder　at　the　nearest；　approximately　three　hundred　metres　away。　It
recalled　to　his　mind　the　famous　Cadian　pylons　that　protected　his　home　world　from　the　vicious　warp
storm　known　as　the　Eye　of　Terror。　As　an　officer…cadet；　he　had　once　visited　the　base　of　one　of　the
Cadian　pylons；　a　rare　privilege　largely　forbidden　to　those　of　the　noncommissioned　ranks。　He
remembered　the　aura　of　power　he　had　sensed　around　that　inexplicable　monolith。　He　had　imagined　at
the　time　that　some　kind　of　living　force　resided　there；　something　of　incredible　energy　and　potency。
The　Cadian　pylons　and　the　towers　of　Dar　Laq　were　certainly　both　ancient　and　mysterious；　but　the
latter　exuded　no　sense　of　power　or　presence；　only　an　aura　of　death　and　decay；　and　of　a　splendour
lost　forever　to　the　ages。
The　towers　looked　to　be　constructed　of　the　same　nacreous　metal　as　the　lower　structures；　but
there　the　similarities　ended。　They　were　less　blocky；　less　angular；　suggesting　that　they　had　been
conceived　with　a　sense　of　the　artistic　at　least　as　much　as　the　functional。　A　few　of　them　were　broken；
the　outer　shells　rusting　or　tearing　away；　revealing　themselves　to　be　stuffed　full　of　what　looked　like
clockwork　on　the　most　massive　scale。　Great　black　cogs　sat　unmoving；　frozen　in　the　glare　of　the
searchlights；　teeth　bared　at　the　human　interlopers。　Bergen’s　natural　curiosity　kept　throwing　up
questions　in　his　mind　and　it　took　some　effort　to　quash　them。　What　feats　of　science　or　wonders　of
sorcery　might　the　creators　of　Dar　Laq　have　been　able　to　work　in　their　day？　It　was　dangerous　to　ask；
more　dangerous　still　to　actively　seek　such　knowledge。　Heresy　lurked　at　the　boundaries　of　such
thinking。　It　was　natural；　too；　though。　It　was　part　of　the　human　condition　to　revel　in　discovery；
despite　the　warnings　of　the　Imperial　Creed。
The　tech…priests　were　guiltier　than　anyone　of　that。　Bergen　imagined　they　would　be　readying　their
bands　of　slaves　and　servitors　to　go　out　and　search　for　answers。　They　must　have　planned　all　this　from
the　very　beginning。　Had　they　ever　intended　to　help　find　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance？　Or　did　their　real
interest　in　Golgotha　begin　and　end　with　Dar　Laq？
He　watched　the　white　discs　thrown　out　by　the　searchlights　as　they　climbed　the　far　wall；　and　his
jaw　dropped　open。　He　had　the　measure　of　the　cavern　now；　and　it　was　vast；　easily　two　to　three
kilometres　across　at　its　widest；　and　a　kilometre　high　where　the　cavern　walls　curved　inwards　to　meet
at　a　single　point。　Every　inch　of　the　walls　had　been　worked　by　alien　hands。　There　were　alcoves　within
alcoves；　pillared　walkways；　exquisitely　wrought　galleries　of　metal　and　so　much　more；　all　with　the
same　sharp；　angular　aesthetic　of　the　ground…level　buildings。　How　many　had　lived　here？　How　had
they　fashioned　such　a　place？　And　why　had　they　chosen　to　live　down　here　inside　the　mountain；
shunning　the　light　and　the　sky　above？
As　the　searchlights　reached　for　the　ceiling　of　the　chamber；　Bergen　gaped。　There　above　him　hung
the　most　incredible　feature　of　all；　perhaps　a　score　of　inverted　black　ziggurat…type　structures　linked
by　metal　gantries　and　platforms。　They　seemed　to　be　floating　in　the　air。
150
They　can’t　be；　he　told　himself。
He　dropped　back　down　into　his　Chimera　and　pulled　his　magnoculars　from　their　stowage　box。
Returning　to　his　cupola；　he　pressed　the　magnoculars　to　his　eyes　and　looked　up　again。　It　was　only
when　he　squinted　hard　through　the　lenses　that　he　realised　they　truly　were　floating　as　they　had　no
right　to。
“Emperor　protect　us；”　he　muttered。　“What　the　devil　is　going　on　here？”
A　sudden　burst　of　loud　static　from　his　vox…bead　almost　made　him　drop　his　magnoculars。　A
sharp；　familiar　voice　said；　“Bergen；　come　in。　I’m　calling　a　session　of　my　senior　officers　at　once。
Meet　me　at　the　rear　of　my　Chimera　in　three　minutes。　I’m　calling　on　the　tech…priests　to　account　for　all
this。　It’s　about　time　we　had　some　blasted　answers。”
“I’d　say　so；　sir；”　said　Bergen；　thinking　he　had　a　few　questions　of　his　own。
Wulfe　didn’t　like　this　one　damned　bit；　and　neither　did　any　of　his　crew。　Tanks　didn’t　belong
underground。　It　wasn’t　right。　It　wasn’t　natural。　What　if　there　was　a　cave…in　or　something？　He　wasn’t
claustrophobic。　No　tanker　would　last　very　long　with　that　particular　affliction；　but　something　about
this　whole　place　made　his　scar　itch　like　crazy。　No　human　hands　had　built　it。
Damned　xenos；　he　thought。　Nowhere　is　safe　from　them。
Things　could　have　been　worse。　Emperor　protect　all　the　footsloggers　who’d　gone　off　down　those
dark　alleyways　looking　for　signs　of　alien　occupation；　and　he　wouldn’t　have　swapped　places　with　the
Sentinel　pilots　and　Hornet　riders　that　were　out　mapping　the　cavern’s　extents；　but　sitting　and　waiting
wasn’t　much　fun　either。
He　and　his　crew；　like　most　of　the　other　tankers；　had　got　out　to　stretch　their　legs　after　the　long
journey　up　the　mountainside　and　down　through　the　tunnel。　Wulfe　still　felt　stiff；　but　he　tried　to　shake
it　off。　Metzger　was　sipping　water　from　one　of　the　jerrycans；　while　Beans　and　Siegler　were　standing
by　the　front　of　the　tank　speculating　about　what　they　saw。
Wulfe　heard　footsteps　behind　him。
“Your　lot　doing　all　right；　Oskar？”　asked　Lieutenant　van　Droi；　stopping　right　in　front　of　him。
Perhaps　it　was　just　the　quality　of　the　light；　but　Wulfe　thought　the　lieutenant　looked　terrible。　He
had　never　seen　him　like　this　before；　so　gaunt　and　tinged　with　red。　His　concern　must　have　shown　on
his　face；　because　van　Droi　suddenly　stood　up　a　little　straighter；　fixed　his　cap　lower　on　his　brow　and
said；　“You　don’t　look　so　hot　yourself；　you　know。”
Wulfe　winced。　“I’m　sure　I　don’t；　lieutenant。　Sorry。”
Van　Droi　waved　the　apology　off。
Wulfe　gestured　around　at　the　strange　metal　buildings。　He　didn’t　like　the　angles；　the　proportions；
the　lines。　They　didn’t　look　like　any　Imperial　buildings　he　had　ever　seen；　and　that　made　them　wrong。
“What　the　devil’s　going　on；　sir？”　he　asked。　“We　weren’t　told　anything　about　underground　cities
and　alien　races；　excepting　orks；　that　is。”
Van　Droi　nodded。　“No；　I　wasn’t　told　about　any　of　this　either。　To　be　honest；　Oskar；　I　don’t　think
the　higher…ups　expected　this。　General　deViers　was　furious　when　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance　wasn’t
where　it　should　have　been。”
“Is　it　supposed　to　be　down　here　somewhere？　Or　are　we　just　improvising？”
Van　Droi　frowned。　“According　to　the　tech…priests；　their　little　ritual　in　the　valley　was　some　kind
of　communion　with　the　Machine…God。　They　claim　this　route　will　take　us　directly　to　the　objective。
The　general’s　buying　it。　He　wants　us　to　push　on；　despite　the　circumstances。”
“You　ever　met　a　general　that　didn’t　want　that？”
Van　Droi　grinne