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anxiety。　No　one　liked　moving　through　the　narrow　lanes。　The　shaky　metal　buildings　on　either　side
looked　ready　to　topple　at　any　second。　Their　construction　was　almost　laughable。　Beams　and　girders
stuck　out　at　every　angle。　Most　of　the　corrugated　metal　walls　looked　set　to　tear　away　on　the　next
wind。　It　was　a　wonder　any　of　them　stood　at　all。
Again　and　again；　the　Cadians　found　themselves　boxed　in。　Huge　armoured　orks；　some　of　them
almost　three　metres　tall；　poured　out　from　shadowed　corners　in　a　frenzy；　screaming　oaths　in　their　foul
xenos　tongue；　bloodstained　blades　and　hammers　held　high　above　their　heads。　The　tallest　were　so
dark…skinned　they　were　almost　black；　and　they　fought　with　ferocity　of　a　different　magnitude
altogether。　It　took　twice　as　much　fire　to　put　them　down　as　it　did　to　slay　the　other　members　of　the
squads　they　led。
If　not　for　the　tanks　and　their　crews　providing　hard　cover　and　fire　support　to　the　footsloggers；　any
progress　at　all　through　the　settlement　would　have　been　impossible。　There　were　too　many　damned
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bottlenecks。　The　Cadian　armour　made　all　the　difference；　but　it　wasn’t　long　before　van　Droi　started
hearing　voxed　reports　of　tanks　being　lost。
The　fourth　such　loss　was　Steelhearted　II。
Captain　Immrich　had　assigned　Viess　and　his　crate　as　armour　support　to　a　company　of　Colonel
Pruscht’s　116th　Lasgunners。　They　were　purging　an　avenue　half　a　kilometre　north　of　van　Droi’s
position　when　rockets　had　shredded　the　tank’s　left　tread；　rooting　her　to　the　spot。　The　infantry　had
immediately　moved　forward　to　return　fire；　only　to　be　cut　down　by　ork　heavy　weapon　teams　perched
on　the　nearby　roofs。　Then　the　ork　foot　soldiers　had　poured　in；　dragging　Viess　and　his　crew　out　of
their　hatches　and　hacking　them　to　pieces　on　the　street。
A　few　of　the　lasgunners　had　managed　to　break　away　from　the　fighting　and　report　what　had
happened。　The　commissars　would　probably　execute　them　later　on　charges　of　cowardice。
The　Gunheads　were　down　to　three　tanks。　Van　Droi　could　hardly　believe　it。　Soul…sapping　misery
hovered　over　him；　threatening　to　descend　and　engulf　him　at　any　second；　but　he　fought　hard　to　keep
it　at　bay。　Other　men　were　depending　on　him；　now；　a　platoon　of　Colonel　Stromm’s　Kasrkin　troopers。
They　followed　just　behind　his　crate；　hellgun　stocks　raised　to　their　armoured　shoulders。
He　couldn’t　afford　to　lose　focus。
Van　Droi　looked　out　from　his　cupola；　fists　tight　around　the　grips　of　his　pintle…mounted　heavy
bolter。　His　Vanquisher　had　already　been　stung　twice　—　once　on　the　glacis　and　once　on　the　mantlet
—　by　rockets　fired　from　blind　corners。　She　had　soaked　up　both　hits；　but　how　much　more　could　she
take？　Her　hide　was　scarred　silver　by　all　the　stubber…fire　she　had　drawn；　and　stained　black　where　the
rockets　had　struck。
Thinking　that　his　remaining　Gunheads　deserved　to　know　of　the　company’s　latest　loss；　he　hit　the
vox…link　button　on　his　headset　and　said；　“This　is　10th　Company　Command。　Listen　up；　Gunheads。
I’ve　just　heard　from　Colonel　Pruscht　that　Steelhearted　II　is　dead。　Viess　and　his　crew　are　gone。　So；
keep　your　damned　eyes　open；　both　of　you。　If　Yarrick’s　tank　is　here；　this　will　all　be　over　soon。　You
have　to　keep　it　tight　until　then。”
Two　brief　acknowledgements　came　back　to　him。　One　from　Wulfe；　one　from　Lenck。　Van　Droi
knew　they　utterly　detested　each　other。　They　were　just　about　as　different　as　two　men　could　be；　but
they　were　both　survivors。　They　had　that　much　in　common。
What　was　it　about　the　character　of　each　man；　he　wondered；　that　had　got　him　this　far　when　so
many　others　had　fallen　along　the　way？　Was　it　Lenck’s　self…serving　ruthlessness？　Wulfe’s　rigid
honour　code？　Or　his　almost　paternal　concern　for　the　lives　of　his　crew？
If　they　both　survived　this；　maybe　van　Droi　could　find　a　way　to　bridge　the　gap　between　them。
Troopers　who　disliked　each　other　at　first　were　often　bonded　by　the　trials　they　shared。　He　had　seen　it
before。
Then　again；　he　thought；　maybe　not。
Up　ahead；　he　noticed　that　the　avenue　was　quickly　widening。　The　ork　structures　were　bigger　and
more　widely　spaced　apart。　From　some　of　the　roofs；　great　crooked　armatures　reached　up　towards　the
sky。　They　looked　like　construction　cranes。　Their　heavy　steel　cables　swung　in　the　wind。
“Take　it　slow；　Nails；”　van　Droi　told　his　driver　over　the　intercom。　“It　looks　like　we’re
approaching　the　eastern　edge　of　the　settlement。　I　can’t　believe　we’ve　seen　everything　the　orks　have
left。”
Nails　shifted　down　a　gear；　prompting　a　question　from　the　Kasrkin　lieutenant　at　the　rear。
“Trouble　up　ahead？”　he　voxed。
“Can’t　be　sure；”　replied　van　Droi。　“Come　up　and　take　a　look。”
The　Kasrkin　officer；　a　rough…spoken　man　by　the　name　of　Gradz；　clambered　up　the　back　of　Foe…
Breaker　and　stopped　close　to　van　Droi。　Despite　their　proximity；　they　spoke　over　the　vox。　The　noise
of　the　engine　was　too　loud　for　anything　else。
“What　do　you　think？”　asked　van　Droi。
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The　Kasrkin　took　a　moment　to　answer。　“I　think　we’ve　just　found　our　warboss；　armour。　That
hangar　dead　ahead　is　the　biggest　structure　I’ve　seen　so　far。　Twice　the　size　of　those　ones　to　the　side。
I’ll　bet　you　ten　bottles　of　joi　the　bastard　is　in　there　right　now。　The　minute　our　lads　move　into　that
open　square；　the　orks’ll　launch　their　last　stand。　The　warboss　will　lead　it。”
Van　Droi　nodded　in　silent　agreement。
“Well？”　asked　Gradz。　“You　gonna　take　the　bet？”
Something　large　moved　in　the　shadowed　mouth　of　the　hangar。　The　muzzle　brake　of　a　massive
battle　cannon　poked　out　into　the　daylight。　Van　Droi　and　Gradz　both　saw　it　at　the　same　time；　but　it
was　too　late　to　do　anything。　The　gun　belched　fire　and　smoke。　There　was　a　clap　of　thunder。
They　didn’t　see　the　shell　that　killed　them。　It　happened　too　fast　for　that。
Foe…Breaker　was　flipped　onto　her　back　by　the　power　of　the　explosion；　crushing　eight　of　the　men
behind　her。
Then　her　magazine　ignited；　and　her　armour　blew　outwards　as　a　million　spinning　shrapnel　shards。
No　one　within　ten　metres　of　her　survived。
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CHAPTER　THIRTY…THREE
Orks　were　spewing　out　from　buildings　on　all　sides。
“We　need　to　fall　back　right　now；”　Lieutenant　Keissler　voxed　to　Captain　Immrich。　“Draw　them
back　into　the　narrower　streets。”
“No；”　snapped　Immrich。　“I　will　not　disobey　the　general’s　orders。　We　are　to　stand　firm　and
engage。　There　will　be　no　retreat。　This　is　their　last　stand；　and　it　is　ours　as　well。”
“You’re　a　bloody　fool；　Immrich；”　hissed　Keissler。　“I　always　thought　so。　Death　or　glory；　is　it？”
“What　else　is　there？”　Immrich　replied　and　took　aim。
General　deViers　could　barely　hear　himself　think　over　all　the　noise　on　the　vox。
Killian　was　yelling　for　permission　to　pull　his　men　out　of　the　ork　settlement。　Rennkamp　was
calling　on　him　to　send　everything　they　had　in　to　support　the　Cadian　tanks；　and　Bergen　was　raving
about　some　monstrous　ork　battle　tank　five　times　the　size　of　a　Leman　Russ　that　was　ripping　the
forward　elements　of　his　armoured　division　apart。
In　the　general’s　mind；　there　was　only　one　pertinent　fact。　His　prize　was　in　there　somewhere。　The
path　was　clear。
“Army　Group　Command　to　all　units。　This　is　General　Mohamar　deViers。　In　the　name　of　the
Emperor；　I　order　you　to　move　in。　Converge　on　the　east　side　of　the　settlement。　Give　your　lives　if
necessary；　but　sell　them　dear。　Our　victory　must　be　absolute。　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance　is　within
reach。　For　Cadia　and　for　the　glory　of　all　mankind；　we　will　recover　her　this　day。　Fight　hard；　brave
Cadians。　The　Emperor　protects！”
The　Emperor　wasn’t　doing　a　very　good　job　of　protecting　the　men　of　the　88th　Mobile　Infantry。
Wulfe　had　been　attached　to　one　of　their　platoons　for　the　sweep　eastwards；　but　the　men　were
dropping　like　flies；　hemmed　in　on　all　sides　by　savage　aliens　of　simply　breathtaking　bulk　and　power。
Lasgun　blasts　hardly　seemed　to　affect　the　orks　at　all。
Wulfe’s　stubber…fire　was　only　marginally　more　effective。　He　did　his　best　to　keep　the　orks　off　the
men　around　him；　gunning　them　down　mercilessly　with　enfilading　fire　from　his　cupola；　but　there
were　simply　too　many。　They　weren’t　the　worst　of　it；　either；　not　by　far。
Between　them；　the　Cadian　armour　and　infantry　would　have　found　a　way　to　overcome　the
unmounted　troops。　It　would　have　needed　time；　coordination；　and　a　healthy　serving　of　old…fashioned
Ca