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“No；”　said　Holtz；　cutting　him　off。　“Chipped　a　tooth；　though。　Raging　about　it；　he　is。　He　was　here
earlier　with　that　damned　soggy　cigar　sticking　out　of　his　mouth。　Seemed　to　know　you’d　be　all　right。
Said　you　were　to　report　to　him　once　you　were　on　your　feet。　You　and　the　rest　of　the　tank
commanders；　that　is。”
That　prompted　another　question。　“What　about　Lenck？”　Wulfe　asked；　trying　not　to　sound　too
hopeful。
Holtz　snorted。　He　had　declared　his　own　dislike　for　the　new　tank　commander　early　on。　Wulfe
guessed　that　Holtz’s　feelings　were　based　on　envy　more　than　anything　else；　though。　Holtz　had
enjoyed　great　success　with　the　ladies　before　his　face　had　been　scorched　and　ruined。　Lenck　had
reportedly　enjoyed　comparable　attention　from　some　of　the　nurses　and　female　naval　officers　aboard
the　Hand　of　Radiance。　From　what　Wulfe　had　heard；　he　wasn’t　shy　about　sharing　the　details；　either。
“First　out　the　lander；　that　one；”　said　Holtz　with　a　scowl。　“He’s　back　inside　it　now；　checking　on
his　tank。”
“Damn　it；”　muttered　Wulfe。　He　looked　up　at　the　sky　again；　addressing　the　Emperor。　“Was　it　too
much　to　bloody　ask？”
Holtz　gave　a　dry　laugh。
“Look　on　the　bright　side；”　he　said。　“If　that　Terraxian　ponce　was　right；　there’ll　be　plenty　more
chances　for　him　to　snuff　it　before　we　pull　out　of　here。”
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Wulfe　shifted　his　weight　and　struggled　gingerly　to　his　feet。　He　was　a　little　dizzy；　but　he　managed
to　stand　under　his　own　power。　Once　he　was　up；　he　turned　and　cast　his　gaze　over　the　wreckage　of　the
crashed　craft。
It　was　a　sorry　sight。　The　desert　was　littered　for　hundreds　of　metres　with　fragments　of　every　size
and　shape。　Black　smoke　poured　from　the　aft　section；　churning　on　a　hot　breeze。　Wulfe　watched　it
rise；　climbing　towards　the　clouds；　and　thought；　frak！　Talk　about　advertising　our　position。　We　won’t
be　able　to　stay　here　long；　not　running　a　flag　like　that。
He　looked　back　at　the　crumpled　body　of　the　drop…ship。　Scores　of　sweating　men　moved　around　it；
carrying　supply　crates　out　from　a　tear　in　the　hull。　Others　worked　to　manually　widen　the　massive
emergency　doors　at　the　ship’s　rear　so　that　10th　Company’s　vehicles　could　be　extracted。　They　were
having　a　hard　time　of　it；　but　there　was　little　choice。　There　was　no　way　to　get　the　tanks　out　via　the
loading　ramp。　The　ship’s　belly　was　pressed　flat　to　the　ground。
Another　smaller　group　of　men　handled　the　grimmest　task　of　all。　They　knelt　in　the　sand；　leaning
over　lifeless　bodies　to　pull　dog　tags　from　their　necks。
Wulfe’s　eyes　lingered　on　the　motionless　form　of　a　trooper　not　twenty　metres　away。　The　lad
looked　barely　out　of　his　teens。　The　pale　skin　of　his　face　was　bright　against　the　dark　red　sand　on
which　he　lay。
Bugfood；　thought　Wulfe。　He　touched　the　silver　aquila　badge　on　the　left　breast　pocket　of　his
tanker’s　fatigues　and　whispered　a　quick　prayer　for　the　young　trooper’s　soul。　Such　pitiful　sights　were
something　he　had　gotten　used　to　after　so　long　in　the　field。　Life　in　the　Guard：　you　either　dealt　with　it
or　you　didn’t；　and　if　you　didn’t；　the　commissars　would　sort　you　out；　permanently。
A　million　ways　to　die　here；　he　thought；　and　we’ve　already　had　the　first。　Welcome　to　Golgotha；
troopers。
“Right；”　he　said；　facing　Holtz。　“I’ll　see　a　medic　later。　For　now；　though；　I’d　better　find　van　Droi。
Get　Siegler　and　Metzger　together　and　see　about　getting　our　old　junk…heap　out　of　the　ship。　Come　find
me　when　it’s　done。”
“Right；　sarge；”　said　Holtz；　“but　do　me　one　favour；　will　you？　Go　easy　on　the　tank…bashing。　You’ll
turn　her　against　us　if　you　keep　that　up。　Besides；　you　can’t　judge　a　tank　on　shipboard　exercises；　can
you？”
“Maybe　not；”　said　Wulfe　grudgingly。　“Maybe　not；　but　you　and　I　both　know　she’s　got　a　heck　of　a
lot　to　live　up　to。”　He　turned　and　limped　off　to　find　Lieutenant　van　Droi；　determined　to　ignore　the　fire
in　his　joints　and　muscles　as　he　went。
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CHAPTER　THREE
Far　to　the　north　of　Wulfe’s　position；　things　were　very　different　for　those　elements　of　the　18th　Army
Group　that　had　landed　safely。　Their　fourth　evening　on　Golgotha　saw　General　Mohamar　deViers
descend　from　orbit　in　his　private　aquila　lander　to　personally　oversee　operations　at　the　Imperial
beachhead；　located；　as　the　ork　slavers’　base　had　so　recently　been；　on　the　Hadron　Plateau。
The　preparatory　stages　of　Operation　Thunderstorm　were　already　drawing　to　a　close。
Construction　of　the　neplete；　well　ahead　of　schedule　thanks　to
the　contributions　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus。　Their　abundant　technologies；　the　impressive
prefabricated　structures　they　had　provided；　the　unceasing　toil　of　their　legions　of　brain…wiped
biomechanical　slaves；　these　things　and　more　had　seen　the　laser…blasted　surface　of　the　plateau
converted　and　fortified　in　record　time。　The　10th　Armoured　Division　was　preparing　to　roll　out　on　the
morning　of　the　following　day；　having　been　charged　with　securing　the　first　of　a　series　of　outposts
critical　to　establishing　key　supply　lines　in　the　east。　So；　with　his　private　rooms　already　constructed
and　awaiting　occupation；　it　was　high　time；　in　the　opinion　of　General　deViers；　that　the　men　on　the
ground　felt　the　presence　of　their　leader　among　them。　Time；　he　thought；　to　remind　them　just　whose
show　this　was。
The　sleek　aquila　touched　down　in　the　early　evening；　alighting　on　the　base’s　small　rockcrete
runway　without　incident。　The　last　of　the　day’s　light　was　just　visible　as　a　ruddy　glow　in　the　far　west；
and　the　base’s　floodlights　were　buzzing　to　life　one　by　one。　The　lander’s　boarding　ramp　had　barely
touched　rock　when　the　general　strode　down　it　and　began　barking　orders。　He　was　a　thin　man；　taller
than　average　for　a　Cadian；　clean…shaven　with　pomaded　silver　hair　and　sunken　cheeks。　At　ninety…one
years　of　age；　seventy…six　of　those　spent　in　military　service；　he　looked　surprisingly　young；　no　older；
in　fact；　than　sixty。　The　treatments　and　surgeries　he　had　undergone　to　achieve　this　were　both
expensive　and　painful；　but　never　unacceptably　so。
He　was　a　man　who　placed　a　great　deal　of　value　on　appearances；　an　attitude　reflected　in　the
tailoring　of　his　immaculate　uniform　and　in　the　polished　sheen　of　the　medals　that　glinted　over　his　left
breast　pocket。　His　voice；　when　he　spoke；　was　sharp　and　clear；　and　he　had　a　tendency　to　emphasise
certain　words　with　little　thrusts　of　his　chin。　The　first　order　of　business；　he　told　his　men；　was　a　swift
round　of　interviews　and　inspections；　and　no；　they　could　not　wait　until　the　following　morning。
He　initiated　the　inspections；　beginning；　significantly；　with　the　massive　tank…crowded　motor　pool
and　progressing　anti…clockwise　through　each　area　in　turn。　After　two　hours　spent　marching　around
the　base　snapping　out　questions　and　comments；　trying　in　vain　to　acclimatise　to　the　thick；　unpleasant
air；　deViers　confided　to　his　long…suffering　adjutant；　Major　Gruber；　that　he　was　deeply　impressed。
Things　had　apparently　been　proceeding　very　well　without　him。　With　its　high　curtain　walls；　towers
topped　with　Manticore　and　Hydra　anti…air　defences；　and　the　broad；　extended　parapets　boasting　row
after　row　of　Earthshaker　artillery　platforms；　Exolon’s　new　Army　Group　HQ　represented　a　vital
bastion　of　security　on　an　otherwise　hostile　world。　DeViers　was　quietly　convinced　that　it　would　hold
against　even　the　most　overwhelming　ork　siege。　It　would　have　to。　In　all　likelihood；　such　an　attack
was　mere　days　away。　The　Golgothan　orks　would　have　seen　lights　in　the　sky　as　the　drop…ships　had
descended。　Sooner　or　later；　they　would　come　to　investigate。　No　matter　how　many　came；　the　base
could　not　be　allowed　to　fall。　It　was　the　lynchpin　of　deViers’　whole　operation。
The　plateau　on　which　Hadron　Base　was　being　constructed　measured　over　four　kilometres　in
diameter　and　lay　almost　directly　on　the　line　of　the　equator。　It　had　been　selected　on　the　basis　of　two
20
critical　factors。　Firstly；　with　its　sheer　sides　and　few　sloping　access　routes；　it　was；　even　without
fortification；　eminently　defensible。　Secondly；　and　more　significantly；　at　a　distance　of　some　six
hundred　kilometres　from　the　general’s　ultimate　objective；　it　was　the　closest　suitable　geological
feature　to　the　last　known　position　of　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance。
His　base　inspection　over；　deViers　ordered　a　briefing　session　with　his　three　divisional
command