and one of them leapt at him but he turned its momentum and its weight against it； and threw it over
his shoulder and off the moving vehicle。 The others fired； and Muldoon’s body twitched and jerked
as their bullets ripped into him； and Lorenzo feared that he too would fall and die in a splatter of
mud and blood； but he was climbing—climbing onto the back of the battlewagon as if animated by
willpower alone； and he fell into the midst of the ork mob and they leapt upon him and tore him
apart； but by then his final goal had been achieved。
The charges blew the battlewagon apart from the inside； and eight orks died screaming。
By that time； Lorenzo had replaced the depleted pack in the lasgun his comrade had given him；
and he was firing at the shapes that loomed about him； making sure he kept moving； an impossible
target amid the sensory chaos。 He felt a grim sense of triumph as he claimed his tenth kill of the
night； and he thought of Sharkbait Muldoon and knew he would have been proud。
But he also knew he was surrounded； and the orks were homing in on him now； closing him
down。 They came at Lorenzo from all sides； moving in to close combat as usual； trusting in their
greater strength and numbers against his greater dexterity。 This time； he knew； he had no right to
expect a reprieve； no Marbo to save him。 He had used up all his luck。 So he dropped his gun and
hurled the last of his grenades； and he thought about how bravely Muldoon had died—and Donovits
too； he didn’t doubt—and he drew his Catachan fang。
And finally； Lorenzo ran to greet his enemies； with his trusty knife in his hand and a defiant roar
in his throat。
72
CHAPTER TWELVE
The fighting seemed to have gone on forever。
Lorenzo remembered the first tint of sunlight touching the sky； remembered how amazed he’d
been that only one night had passed because it seemed so long since he’d thought of anything but
blood and smoke and fire。 Yet when he looked back on that time； much of it was no more than a
blur of sneering ork faces and knife thrusts and death。 Lots of death。 He thought that； at one point；
he’d stood back to back with Sergeant Greiss； but he couldn’t be sure。 Once they’d moved into
hand…to…hand combat； he’d had no choice but to surrender himself to his instincts。 Otherwise he’d
have thought about the tiredness in his muscles and the aches from his bruises and the stilloverwhelming
odds against him； and he would have lain down and died。 Or； worse still； he’d have
thought about dying。
He could have died； and he’d probably have known nothing about it。 Just wound down like a
spring； from a wound he hadn’t yet felt； and that wouldn’t have been so bad； would it？
Lorenzo was fighting in his sleep； muscle memory twitching his arms in response to an
imaginary parade of blood…crazed enemies。 Somewhere in the back of his mind； he thought he must
have wondered if he would ever wake up； or if he would fight this nightmare struggle forever。
Yes； it had been a glorious battle。
And it was made all the more so by the fact that； in the end； Lorenzo felt sunlight touching his
face； and he opened his eyes and knew that he had lived。
It took him a moment to work out where he was。 The light was bright； but his surroundings seemed
dim。 He realised that the light was streaming through a small window； to be swallowed by the dust
and the dirt in here。
An ork hut。 Lorenzo was lying on a makeshift bunk； really no more than a pile of junk draped
with rags； and he was swaddled in stinking furs。 He was hot； burning up。 It crossed his mind only
briefly that the orks themselves might have brought him here； as a hostage。 That wasn’t their style。
The fact that he was here meant his small squad had achieved the impossible。 They had won。 But at
what price？
Lorenzo felt a stiffness in his side； and sent a tentative hand under his bulky coverings to
investigate。 His questing fingers found a hard knot of synth…skin； between the ribs in his right side；
and he winced at the sudden white hot memory of an axe blade scything through his flesh。 His
memories were disordered； still vague； but that pain； he felt sure； was among the most recent of
them。 He sighed regretfully。 He would have liked to be found standing； at the end。
“Hey； Lorenzo？ You moving under all that lot？”
The familiar voice drew Lorenzo’s gaze to his left； to the next bunk； where lay Woods。 He must
have been injured too； though Lorenzo wouldn’t have known it from the cocky grin on his face。
“Bout time too；” said Woods。 “Been lying here awake on my own the past couple of hours； while
you’ve been snoring away。 What’s the point in winning the biggest damn scrap this squad’s ever
seen if you can’t jaw about it with your buddies afterwards； huh？”
“We… did win； then？”
Woods raised an eyebrow。 “I’ll put that down to your being flak happy。 Of course we won；
Lorenzo！”
“What I mean is… I heard about Brains。”
73
Woods pouted。 “Yeah。 We lost Brains。 And they’re starting to give up on Sharkbait； too。 Been
looking for him all morning。”
Lorenzo’s mind’s eye flashed up a picture of Muldoon racing into the light of the ork
battlewagon； and he felt a pang in his stomach。 “They won’t find him；” he said numbly。 Woods
fixed him ost needy gaze； and Lorenzo realised that it was up to him to tell
Sharkbait Muldoon’s last story； to keep it alive。 He had that honour； and that responsibility。 So he
took a deep breath； closed his eyes for a moment as he picked his words； and he told it。
He emphasised how brave Muldoon had been。 He mentioned the gash in his head； because it
made him seem all the more heroic for having overcome such an injury—and he exaggerated the
number of orks on the wagon； that he had killed； because after all it had been dark and there’d been
so much smoke and there could have been fourteen or fifteen of them； and Lorenzo didn’t want to
sell his comrade short。 Woods listened to the story with growing admiration； and when it was done
he breathed in through his teeth and agreed that Sharkbait had died well。 Lorenzo felt an odd sort of
pride at having been there； at having seen something so inspiring； but most of all at knowing he’d
done justice to his fallen comrade’s memory； and somehow everything seemed a little brighter then。
“A couple of the others saw how Brains went。” Woods related in return。 “There were a few of
them together； and the orks were searching the jungle； and they hadn’t had time to find a proper
hiding place what with everything going to hell so fast。 They say Brains let the greenskins find him；
because a couple more steps and they would’ve stumbled right onto Wildman and maybe Bullseye。
He gave his own life to buy the rest of us time。 Course； he came out firing。 I have to confess；
sometimes I didn’t have much time for old Brains； thought he yapped too much when he should’ve
been getting on with it—but the way the others tell it； he would’ve done Marbo proud last night。
Took on ten； twelve orks by his lonesome； and stayed standing long enough for the others to
retrench； to start fighting back。”
“What happened？” asked Lorenzo。 “What started it； I mean？ We were almost there； almost past
the encampment； and then…”
“Oh yeah；” said Woods； screwing his face up into a scowl； “I almost forgot you were up front；
missed it all。 I bet you can guess； though。 I bet you can guess who was brainless enough to step on
an ork trap； blow himself right up。”
“Mackenzie？” Lorenzo hazarded。 The disdain in Woods’ voice and expression had been
something of a giveaway。
“Mackenzie；” he confirmed。 “The commissar。”
“I wouldn’t have thought even he—”
“It was the blue light。 Came up on us all unexpected like。 I felt it in my head for a bit—just a
second—like it was scanning me； reading my mind； then it moved on。 Mackenzie… I figure what
happened was； the light picked on the weakest of us。 Mackenzie got up； started walking towards it
like he was in a trance or something。 The sergeant tried to stop him—brought up his lasgun； told
Mackenzie he’d shoot him dead if he took another step； though I don’t know why he cared； can’t say
I’d have shed a tear if Mackenzie had gone on； if he’d sunk into the swamp and never come out
again。 But Old Hardhead seemed to be getting through to him。 Mackenzie just froze； and he was
looking at Old Hardhead； and at the blue light； all confused—and it was Bullseye； I think； who saw
the wire。 Mackenzie was standing with one foot in front of it； one foot behind。 God…Emperor knows
how he hadn’t tripped it already。 Old Hardhead； he motioned to the rest of us to get back； and he
kept talking to the commissar； all quiet and calm。 Mackenzie； he was listening； he could see the
sergeant was making sense； but he still wanted to go to that light； you could tell。 He kept asking why
he should trust any of us。 He talked about what happened at the river； and he accused the sergeant of
wanting him dead。 I knew we were in trouble right then； knew he’d bring the orks down on us
eventually even if he didn’t trip that wire。 Old Hardhead was whispering； trying to hush the
commissar； but he was getting hysterical。”
74
“That’s what the light does to you；” said Lorenzo sombrely。 “It plays on your hopes； your fears。
And Mackenzie was already so afraid…” He fell silent as he realised what he’d said。 He’d admitted
to a weakness； in front of Woods of all people—a soldier who； if he’d ever feared anything； would
certainly not have confessed to it。
It didn’t seem to matter。 “Makes sense；” said Woods。 “I think； deep down； Mackenzie maybe
wanted to believe—he wanted to be convinced—but that light was just too damn strong for him。”
“What about Braxton？”
“Give him his due。” Woods conceded； “he tried。 He crawled forward； put himself in the danger
zone； just so he could talk to Mackenzie； back up what Old Hardhead was saying。 But as soon as he
opened his mouth； Mackenzie； he just… it was like he freaked out good and proper。 He accused
Braxton of betraying him； said he was alone now and he wasn’t going to listen to anyone anymore。
He closed his eyes； put his hands over his ears； like he was in pain； and he was screaming for
everyone to stop talking； to leave him alone； to let him think。
“Well； it was all over then； of course。 Braxton started forward—I don’t know why； like maybe
he thought he could drag Mackenzie to safety or something—but the commissar had made up his
mind。”
“Or rather。” Lorenzo murmured； “the light had made it up for him。”
“And the rest； like Commissar Mackenzie； is history。”
“And Braxton？”
“Oh； he’s alright。 Old Hardhead grabbed hold of him； pulled him back； damn near got himself
killed in the process。 Now； that—that would’ve been a tragedy！”
“I shouldn’t have stopped him；” said Lorenzo。 “Sharkbait。 At the river。 He would’ve killed
Mackenzie； but I thought… I don’t know what I thought。 If I’d kept quiet； if I’d let him… Sharkbait
would still be alive。 And Brains。”
“Doesn’t work like that；” said Woods； with more understanding than Lorenzo would have
expected from him。 “No one made Sharkbait do anything he didn’t want to do。 You made him think；
is all。 He let Mackenzie off the hook for the s