about Woods or Dougan or the others。”
“All the more reason for us to make it back alive；” said Storm。 “Because if we don’t tell those
stories； who will？”
“I will；” swore Braxton。 “One day。 I’ll tell them how it is with you—how you make sure that
everyone matters； every life counts for something。”
“Keep talking like that；” said Greiss； “and your next commissar will probably boot you right out
on the first suicide mission to cross his desk。”
Braxton grimaced； but took the joke in the spirit it was intended。
They were all still smiling when the ground shook again。
This tremor was worse than the first one。 It lasted longer； felt deeper and more destructive；
although the only visible signs of it above ground were a slight blurring of the trees and the
dislodging of a few leaves and fruits。 The tremor died down with no harm done； but Lorenzo could
see his apprehension mirrored in die other Jungle Fighters’ eyes； because they knew what it might
presage。
Maybe Rogar III hadn’t conceded defeat after all。 Maybe it was just waiting； planning； and
building up to its biggest offensive against its interlopers yet。
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Sergeant—you’ve got to see this。”
As the Jungle Fighters had ventured deeper into ork territory； they had switched to stealth
tactics； as they had by the encampment。 This time； it was Myers who had the task of scouting ahead
for traps。 He had already guided the squad around several tripwires and a concealed pit。 Now he
came scurrying back to them； face flushed。
They followed him through the foliage； all too aware that they were moving parallel to a path
worn down and churned up by footprints。 Lorenzo could hear clinking and clunking and the guttural
sounds of ork voices ahead； and he moved as carefully as he could； disturbing hardly a leaf。
A light spilled into the jungle； and Lorenzo feared at first that it was the mind…altering blue light。
It was white； though； far more harsh； and it seemed to emanate from many sources。 The Jungle
Fighters were careful to stick to the shadows； not to let the light reveal them。
Then； with a cautious touch； Myers parted a cluster of spiny fronds； and Lorenzo saw what the
excitement was about。
The orks had set up a mining operation。 They were working well into the night。 A clearing was
illuminated by lanterns strung up in trees； turned inwards； their light bleaching out all but the
faintest hints of colour。 Across the clearing； the ground rose steeply； and a tunnel had been dug into
the side of this hillock。 A square wooden frame propped up its entrance—and as the Jungle Fighters
watched； another light appeared in the tunnel’s depths。 An ork emerged； the light streaming from a
battered helmet that was balanced atop its misshapen head。 It was wheeling a lopsided barrow
overloaded with rocks； which it dumped unceremoniously onto one of several heaps dotting the
area。
Four gretchin were sorting through this heap； giving each rock a cursory glance before they
tossed it onto a discard pile。 Nearby； two orks quarrelled over a pickaxe—and ten more stood sentry
at regular intervals around the clearing； with one stationed to each side of the mine entrance。 A few
more gretchin were scampering about； fetching and carrying； offering their ork masters food and
drink。
“What do you suppose they’re looking for？” asked Armstrong； after the Jungle Fighters had
backed up a safe distance。
“Isn’t much worth digging up on Rogar；” said Wildman Storm； “at least not according to
Brains—or did I hear that wrong？”
Greiss shook his head。 “You heard right； Wildman。 But remember what else Brains said—about
this world’s energy signature。 There’s something here； something the explorators couldn’t identify。
I’m guessing the green…skins are after it。”
“How？” protested Lorenzo。 “If the explorators couldn’t find it…”
Greiss shrugged。 “You know orks。 Bloody…minded。 Likelihood is they got nothing； know
nothing； but they’ll just keep on looking on the off…chance that there’s some miracle rock down
there they can mine and use against us。 Probably hollow out this whole planet before they admit
defeat。”
“Emperor help us if they do find something；” murmured Armstrong。
“So what now？” asked Storm—and Lorenzo recognised the impatient gleam in his eyes。 “The
odds are way better than they were two nights ago； and this time we have the advantage of surprise。
We come out firing； we’ll have half those greenskins down before they know what’s hit them。”
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“I don’t care about ‘half those greenskins’；” growled Greiss。 “We’re here for one reason； and
one reason only—and I didn’t see anyone out there answering Big Green’s description。”
“There were no huts。” Braxton realised。 “Where do these orks live？”
“Another encampment； somewhere nearby？” hazarded Myers。
“Your job to find out；” said Greiss。 “When I give the word； you take a scout round that clearing；
see if there’s any wheel tracks or evidence of orks tramping to and fro。 My guess is； there won’t be。
I reckon these greenskins have taken their equipment and their beds underground； into the mine
itself。”
“So； getting to their boss won’t be as easy as it sounded；” added Myers。
“He’s got to show his face on the surface sometime；” opined Braxton。
“Has he？” said Armstrong； cynically。
“Normally； I’d say wait；” said Greiss。 “Set up sniper positions； sit it out for a few days； let our
target come to us。 But this is Rogar III。 We sit around here too long； we don’t know what it’s going
to throw at us。”
“If we go into that mine with all guns blazing；” said Armstrong； “Big Green will know about
it—and I’m betting； if he’s half as smart as Mackenzie reckoned； he won’t let himself be cornered in
there。”
“Something else for you to keep an eye out for； Bullseye；” said Greiss； “on your reconnoitre： a
back way in—though if there is one； it’s probably kilometres away； and well hidden。 No； I’ve a
feeling in my old bones： the only way we’re getting in sniffing distance of our man is if we barge in
the front door。 Question is； how to do it without tipping off the warboss that we’re coming？”
Twenty minutes later； Lorenzo was lying flat on his face in the grass； having mud slapped onto his
back by his comrades—some of them； he thought； with a little too much relish。 He protested as
Storm tried to tie a branch into his hair with clumsy fingers； but succeeded only in poking him in the
eye。
Finally； Sergeant Greiss suggested he try standing； and Lorenzo did so； helped to his feet by
Braxton。 A heap of vegetation crashed to the ground around his feet； and he looked at Armstrong；
upon whom similar indignities had been heaped； and stifled a laugh。
It took another ten minutes’ work to achieve anything like the effect they wanted。 Lorenzo and
Armstrong remained standing for this final stage； and Lorenzo watched admiringly as his comrade
disappeared beneath layer after layer of dirt。 Much of it didn’t stick； and even now some patches of
Armstrong’s skin showed through； but that didn’t matter so much。 A garland of plants had been
knotted together and draped around Armstrong’s shoulders； from a distance； it might have looked
like the leaves were growing out of him。 The likeness wasn’t perfect； but even Lorenzo had to
suppress a shudder； staring now at a figure that reminded him of the zombies that had almost killed
them all。 Of course； although he couldn’t see it； didn’t dare tilt his head for fear of dislodging its
dressings； he knew he had undergone a similar transformation。
Greiss cast an appraising eye over his two troopers； and announced that they were ready。 “At
least；” he added； “I’d say we’ve done as much as we can with you。 I suggest you stick to the
shadows at the edge of the clearing； and—I don’t know—try and puff yourselves up a bit； stick your
shoulders out。 You’re supposed to be orks under all that muck。 Pair of scrawny buggers like you
two； you’ll be lucky to pass for gretchin。”
“So long as the greenskins don’t pick ’em as Catachans； eh； sergeant？” said Myers。 He had
surprised everyone by producing two ork guns from his backpack； now he pressed one into
Lorenzo’s hands； and the other into Armstrong’s。 “Here； this should help keep up the illusion。”
“You got any more of them； Bullseye？” asked Greiss。
“Afraid not； sergeant。 Just picked up two at the encampment； for a rainy day。 I loaded ’em both
up； though。”
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“Rest of us will have to make do with lasguns； then。 We let Patch and Lorenzo start firing first；
and with a bit of luck the orks won’t think about it in the confusion。”
It sounded like a risky plan。 For a start； the Jungle Fighters were relying upon the likelihood that
the orks had had their own encounters with the plant zombies。 “When they start falling。” Greiss had
said； “we want them to think that that’s who’s behind it： their own living dead。 So； no heroics。
We’re just going to pick off a few sentries； narrow the odds against us and fall back； no more than
that。”
Greiss； Myers； Storm and Braxton slipped away to their positions then； and left Lorenzo and
Armstrong standing； looking at each other。 Lorenzo hoped that Armstrong； with all he’d been
through； was up to this—but when Greiss had expressed a similar sentiment； the veteran had
snapped that he had lost an eye and an arm； not the use of his legs or his brain。
They waited two minutes as arranged； then began to shuffle toward the lights and the sounds of
ork voices。 It was easier than Lorenzo had expected to replicate the zombies’ stiff； unnatural gait： it
came naturally to him； so worried was he about shedding his disguise before it was even put to use。
They split up as they neared the clearing； Armstrong going right； Lorenzo left。 He saw no sign of
his other comrades； but he knew they were nearby。 He drew in a deep breath and stepped out into
the open； stopping just short of the footprint of the nearest lantern。 The nearest ork sentry was a little
closer than he’d anticipated； and he squeezed the trigger of his gun and sent a hail of bullets its way。
Somewhere to Lorenzo’s right； the chatter of a second ork gun echoed his own。
The ork was coming at him； snarling； foaming at the mouth。 It must have known it was dead； but
it was using its body as a shield； giving its fellows time to react to the intruders in their midst。 There
was every chance that if it could cling to life long enough to reach Lorenzo； it could do some real
damage。 He took a step back； but he couldn’t display too much speed or agility for fear of exposing
his deception。 All he could do was keep shooting； and pray。
Then the ork fell； and the clearing was full of answering fire； then the whines of las…bolts
shooting in from positions unknown； and there were four more orks coming Lorenzo’s way and it
was time to get the hell out of there。
It took all the self…control he could muster not to duck or run—to turn his back and to shamble
away； hearing ork feet pounding ever closer； making himself a clear target for an agonising second。
A bullet whistled by his ear； another blew a clump of mud from his shoulder and grazed his skin。
Then Lorenzo rounded a bush； passed out of his enemies’ sight； and ab