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mission。　When　Bergen　saw　the　three　tech…priests　walking　towards　their　Chimera；　he　charged　over　to
them。
“Where　have　you　been？”　he　demanded。
Magos　Sennesdiar　turned　to　face　him。
“Recovering　samples　of　metal；”　he　said；　lifting　a　piece　he　had　taken　from　one　of　the　derelict
towers。　“I’m　certain　that　a　proper　study　of　it　will　be　of　great　benefit　to　the　Imperium。”
Bergen　squinted　up　into　the　shadows　under　the　magos’　hood。
“You　haven’t　seen　my　adjutant？”　he　asked。　“I　sent　him　personally　to　bring　you　back。　The
general　will　be　issuing　the　order　to　move　out　any　minute　now。”
The　magos　bowed。　“I　am　grateful　that　you　thought　of　us。　You　are　a　man　of　fine　character；　major
general。　Alas；　we　did　not　see　your　adjutant。　We　encountered　no　living　soul　during　our　explorations。
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Dar　Laq　is　a　dead　place。　There　is　much　to　study　here。　The　Mechanicus　may　visit　again　once　this
planet　is　returned　to　Imperial　control；　but；　for　now；　we　must　prepare　for　our　egress。　Excuse　us。”
Bergen　watched　the　trio　of　cloaked　figures　move　off。
Had　Katz　simply　got　lost？　No。　That　couldn’t　be　it。　Bergen　had　tried　raising　him　on　the　vox；　but
there　was　no　response。　Damn　it　all；　he　thought；　there’s　no　way　deViers　will　delay　leading　us　out　of
here　for　a　single　missing　man。　If　I　know　the　old　bastard　half　as　well　as　I　think　I　do；　he　wouldn’t　even
wait　for　Major　Gruber。
Bergen　turned　and　marched　back　to　Pride　of　Caedus；　determined　to　plead　with　the　general
anyway。　The　Chimera’s　engine　was　idling　noisily；　like　those　of　the　vehicles　around　her。
Sure　enough；　the　general　told　Bergen　he　could　not；　and　would　not；　order　everyone　to　stand　down
because　of　one　missing　man。　Had　it　been　Bergen　out　there；　deViers　insisted；　it　would　have　been
another　matter　entirely；　but　a　mere　lieutenant？
DeViers　gave　the　order　to　move　out。　Drivers　began　revving　their　engines；　filling　the　air　with
blue　clouds　of　exhaust。　Then；　one　by　one；　they　began　to　move　off　through　the　eerie；　lifeless　streets；
their　headlights　chasing　off　the　shadows　as　they　headed　towards　the　tunnel　on　the　far　side　of　the
cavern。
Bergen　stood　in　his　cupola　the　entire　time；　eyes　facing　out　into　the　darkness　on　the　north　side；
heart　pounding　in　his　chest；　almost　sick　with　emotion。　It　was　far　worse　than　grief。　It　felt　like
betrayal。
“I’m　sorry；　Jarryl；”　he　muttered　beneath　his　rebreather。　“I’m　so　sorry；　my　friend。”
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CHAPTER　TWENTY…NINE
It　was　two　hours　after　dawn　when　the　remnants　of　General　deViers’　expedition　force　emerged　from
the　cool　darkness　of　the　tunnel　into　the　baking　heat　of　the　Golgothan　morning。　They　were　halfway
up　the　east　face　of　a　mountainside；　but　the　landscape　beyond　was　largely　shielded　from　view。　Sharp
fingers　of　rock　thrust　upwards　on　every　side；　forcing　the　Cadians　to　follow　a　single　treacherous　path；
the　only　route　wide　and　shallow　enough　to　accommodate　sixty…tonners　like　the　Leman　Russ　tanks。
The　clouds　were　low　overhead；　a　churning　mix　of　orange；　red　and　brown。　Gusting　winds　pulled
curtains　of　dust　across　the　slopes。　By　midday；　however；　the　winds　dropped　to　a　hot　breeze。　Tall
rocks　and　ridges　still　confounded　the　view。　Privately；　some　of　the　Cadians　almost　regretted　leaving
Dar　Laq。　Alien　or　not；　the　temperature　had　been　more　to　their　liking。　The　air　there　hadn’t　seared
their　lungs。
The　mountain　trail　took　them　down　onto　more　manageable　ground；　and　additional　vehicles
moved　up　from　the　rear　to　support　the　vanguard。　The　column　began　moving　in　a　meandering　line
along　a　series　of　low　rocky　gullies。　Sandstone　hills　rose　on　all　sides；　but　it　wasn’t　long　before　the
Cadians　noticed　something　amiss。　The　sky　beyond　the　next　rise　was　darker　than　it　was　elsewhere；
stained　with　copious　amounts　of　smoke。
General　deViers　ordered　scouts　to　investigate　further；　and　small　groups　of　Sentinels　lurched　off；
careful　to　keep　low　so　that　they　presented　no　silhouettes　above　the　hill…line。　Minutes　later；　the　scout
leader　called　back　to　recommend　that　the　general　halt　the　column　and　come　in　person　to　the　forward
observation　point。　He　had　found　the　source　of　the　smoke。
Bergen　lay　on　his　belly　with　his　magnoculars　pressed　to　his　eyes；　scanning　the　scene　before　him；
uncaring　of　the　fact　that　his　uniform　was　filthy　with　red　dust。　A　dozen　officers　on　either　side　of　him
lay　in　similar　positions；　muttering　and　cursing　at　the　focus　of　their　attention。
Beyond　the　rise；　the　land　was　broad　and　open；　gently　curving　upwards　on　either　side。　The
Cadians　were　looking　down　into　a　huge　crater；　a　volcanic　caldera　ten　kilometres　across。　The　volcano
was　long　dead；　but　at　its　centre　sat　the　source　of　the　dark　smoke。
“Millions　of　them；”　said　Killian；　lying　on　Bergen’s　right。　“There　must　be　millions　of　them。”
“A　hundred　thousand　at　the　most；”　said　Rennkamp。
“Either　way；”　said　Killian；　“we’re　still　heavily　outnumbered。”
Bergen　couldn’t　really　decide　what　he　was　looking　at。　Either　it　was　the　ork　equivalent　of　a　town；
or　it　was　simply　the　biggest　collection　of　scrap　metal　he　had　ever　seen。　Finally；　he　decided　it　was
both；　and　in　equal　parts。　Heaps　of　rusting　armour　plate　and　twisted　girders　rose　a　hundred　metres
into　the　air；　the　most　prominent　feature　of　the　scene　before　him。　Here　and　there；　ruined　vehicles
poked　their　noses　out；　some　recognisable　as　the　crumpled　remnants　of　Chimera　APCs　and　Leman
Russ　tanks；　others　not　so　familiar。
Wreckage　from　the　Golgothan　War；　thought　Bergen。　For　thirty…eight　years　they’ve　scavenged
the　old　battlefields　and　brought　it　all　back　here。　Was　this　the　place　where　Thraka　constructed　his　war
machines　for　the　assault　on　Armageddon？　Was　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance　brought　here？
He　hardly　dared　to　hope　that　it　was　still　here　today。　The　old　certainty　that　deViers　would　never
find　his　prize　was　still　strong。　Peering　hard　through　the　lenses　of　his　magnoculars；　he　struggled　to
find　anything　even　approximating　the　profile　of　the　famous　Baneblade。
No；　nothing　came　close。
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Perhaps　they　took　it　off…world；　he　thought。　Here　we　are　desperately　searching　for　her　on
Golgotha　so　that　we　might　repair　her　and　ship　her　to　Armageddon；　and　the　blasted　orks　have
probably　moved　her　there　already！
He　zoomed　in　on　a　pair　of　massive　cylindrical　structures　at　the　southern　edge　of　the　ork　base。
They　appeared　to　be　some　kind　of　greenskin　foundries。　They　were　covered　in　snaking　pipes　and
valves；　and　were　pouring　smoke　into　the　air；　some　of　it　black；　some　of　it　a　noxious　yellow…brown。
Now　and　then；　great　plumes　of　fire　erupted　from　a　series　of　thin；　teetering　chimneys。　He　saw
hundreds　of　beastly　figures　hefting　scrap　through　massive　doors。　There　were　workshops　attached
where　the　sharp　white　glare　of　promethium　blowtorches　could　be　seen。　Showers　of　orange　sparks
accompanied　the　harsh　metallic　banging　sounds　that　rolled　towards　him　across　the　floor　of　the
caldera。
In　the　centre　of　the　base；　surrounded　by　the　mountains　of　scrap；　there　were　hundreds　of　huts　and
hangars；　all　made　of　corrugated　steel　and　arranged　in　no　particular　order　that　Bergen　could　discern。
Unsurprisingly；　every　single　surface　was　painted　red　and　decorated　with　crude　glyphs；　the　vast
majority　of　which　seemed　to　be　skulls　or　faces。
There　were　towers　placed　all　around　the　perimeter；　too；　unsteady…looking　frameworks　of　iron
and　steel　that　rose　as　high　as　any　of　the　mountainous　junk　heaps。　Atop　each　of　these；　Bergen　saw
observation　posts　boasting　pintle…mounted　heavy　weapons。　They　were　manned　by　members　of　the
smaller；　skinnier　greenskin　slave　caste。　They　were　hideous；　chittering　things；　known　to　the　soldiers
of　the　Imperial　Guard　as　gretchin　—　relatively　ore　capable　of　aiming　a
gun　than　their　bigger　kin。
“What　in　the　name　of　Terra　is　that　for？”　asked　Colonel　Graves。　“There；　on　the　north　side。　Is　that
a　cage？”
Bergen　panned　left　and　saw　the　structure　Graves　was　talking　about。　It　certainly　looked　like　a
cage；　but　it　stood　well　over　fifty　metres　tall。　What　in　the　warp　had　it　been　built　to　contain？　The　bars
were　thicker　than　an　average　steel　girder。　There　was　no　sign　of　life　inside；　but　the　sight　of　great　piles
of　reddish…brown　dung　left　Bergen　with　a　distinct　sinking　feeling。　He　thought　he　knew　the　kind　of
creature　such　a　cage　might　have　been　built　for。　If　they　wer