Three plants were shuffling towards the drop ship。 They looked like the mantraps of Catachan；
but taller。 Three bulbous pink heads； surely too heavy for their stalks to support； split open like
mouths。 No teeth within； though。 These plants were spitters。
Three jets of clear liquid plumed through the air。 Lorenzo and Woods tumbled back into the
drop ship together。 Woods had been hit； a thick gobbet of acid sizzling on his arm。 He whipped out
his knife—a devil claw； typically ostentatious—and half…cut； half…tore his sleeve away before it was
eaten through。 Still； the attack had left a livid red burn on his skin。
Somewhere； not far away； a carrion bird was screeching in delight。
“So； how’s it looking out there？” asked Greiss—and Lorenzo realised that the sergeant was
addressing him。
A smile tugged at his lips as he gave the traditional answer： “Reckon I’m going to like this
place； sergeant。 It reminds me of home！”
10
CHAPTER TWO
The air outside the hatch filled with acid spray again； and a few drops made it inside the ship。 The
Catachans withdrew from the danger area； those at the front yelling at the others to get back。
Lorenzo’s bandolier was splashed—only a little； but enough to leave a steaming hole in the fabric。
Sergeant Greiss had shouldered his way up to Lorenzo and Woods through the crush。 The
platoon commander was only a few steps behind him。 Lieutenant Vines was a quiet…voiced；
unassuming man—but； because he had earned his rank； been elected to it by his fellow Catachans；
they listened when he spoke。 He asked the two troopers to describe what they’d seen； and Woods
told him about the spitting plants。 “Three of them； sir；” Lorenzo confirmed； “at two o’clock。”
“Who’s your best marksman； sergeant？”
Without hesitation； Greiss answered； “Bullseye； sir。 Trooper Myers。” As he spoke； he seized the
shoulder of a wiry； dark…skinned man； and pulled him forward。
“You know what to do； Myers；” said Vines。
With a nod of understanding； Myers drew his lasgun。 He waited a few seconds to be sure it was
safe； then darted up to the sloping hatchway。
As soon as he popped his head up into the open； there came another deluge。 Myers let off two
shots； then dived and rolled back under cover； landing at Lorenzo’s feet。 Lorenzo heard acid
spattering the drop ship’s hull above his head。 He looked down； and saw that the deck plates were
bubbling beneath the droplets left from the previous attack。
Donovits was a second ahead of him； his eyes already turned upward。 “Do you think it can melt
through adamantium？” asked Lorenzo。
“It’s possible；” said Donovits； “with the damage we must have taken on the way down。 I’d keep
an eye out up there。 You see that ceiling starting to discolour； you find yourself a steel umbrella
quick。”
“And that’d help？”
“For a few seconds； yes。”
“I’ve never seen plant acid so strong；” breathed Sharkbait Muldoon； “not even back home。”
“Makes you wonder；” said Donovits； “what kind of insects live on this world if that’s what it
takes to digest them。”
In the meantime； Myers had made his report to Lieutenant Vines： “Three of them； sir； like
Hotshot and Lorenzo said。 I picked off the first； but I swear the second ducked under my shot。 Got
the measure of it now； though。” Vines signalled his approval with a terse nod； and Myers
approached the hatchway again。
He was halfway there when the plants fired a fourth time。
This time； their two sprays were perfectly aimed。 They collided above the hatchway； so that a
sheet of liquid dropped into the ship with a slap。 Myers let out a curse and leapt back。 Several
troopers were splashed； but those who had alkali powders in their kits—ground from the vegetation
of their last deathworld—had readied them； and they quickly pressed them into service。
An acid river trickled down the angled deck； petering out as it sizzled into the metal。 Still；
Lorenzo wasn’t the only trooper forced to climb onto a seat to escape its path。
“Cunning critters；” breathed Myers； almost admiringly。 And then he was off； without awaiting
instructions。 He vaulted through the hatchway； the ship’s hull ringing as his booted feet connected
11
with it。 Then he was out of sight； but Lorenzo could still hear； and feel； his footsteps overhead； and
the crack of a lasgun； firing once； twice； three times； four times； then another spattering of acid；
uncomfortably close to the point from which the last footstep had sounded。
Then there was silence。
Lorenzo held his breath； alert for any sounds from outside the drop ship。 Then he caught
Sergeant Greiss’ eye； and realised that Old Hardhead was smiling。 A moment later； Myers appeared
in the hatchway again； and he too was grinning from ear to ear。 He blew imaginary smoke from the
barrel of his lasgun。 “All clear；” he announced。
Four sergeants bellowed at once； ordering their respective troopers out of the ship double…quick。
Lorenzo kne up outside would pay with extra duties for
embarrassing their commander。
Fifty men rushed for the hatchway； but Woods reached it first。 As Lorenzo climbed out onto the
surface of a new world and looked for his squad； he felt a thrill of excitement。 He was back in the
jungle—back in his element。 He knew that； whatever perils may lie in store for him on Rogar III；
they couldn’t be as discomforting as that stifling room with its single bed； up there in space。
The trees of Rogar III were generally tall； thin and gnarled； but they grew close together—too close；
in places； for a man to squeeze between them。 Their leaves were jagged； some razor…edged—and
creepers dangled from their topmost branches； bulging with poisonous pustules。 The undergrowth
was thick； green…brown and halfway to knee height； the occasional splash of colour thrown out in
the shape of a flower or a brightly patterned thistle or patch of strangle…weed。 From a distance； it
looked like any jungle Lorenzo had seen。 He wanted to get closer； to inspect the peculiar shapes and
patterns of this jungle； to begin to learn which shapes he could trust and which spelled danger—but；
for now； it was not to be。
The drop ship had gouged a great gash out of the planet。 Undergrowth had been flattened； trees
felled； branches shorn。 Small fires were still burning； and creepers twitched like severed limbs in
their heat。
Vines checked his compass； and received a navigational fix from the troop carrier in orbit。 They
were ten kilometres away from the Imperial encampment； he reported； and the quickest route to it
was to retrace the trail of devastation to its source。 It was also the safest route—for； although
Lorenzo saw several more acid spitters among the ashes； most had been burnt or decapitated。 When
one plant did dare stir； and cracked open its pink head； it immediately became the focus of eight
lasguns； and was promptly blasted out of existence。
The Catachans proceeded cautiously to begin with； and there was little talk。 Each of them knew
this was the most dangerous time： their first footsteps on a new world； not knowing the threats it
posed； knowing that an attack could come at any second from any quarter。 In time； they would
become familiar with Rogar III—those of them who survived these early days。 They would learn to
anticipate and counter anything it could throw at them。 Then this world would be no challenge
anymore and； Emperor willing； they would move on to another。
Lorenzo loved this time。 He loved the feeling of adrenaline pumping around his body； loved the
edge it gave him。
For the moment； though； the planet was nursing its wounds； keeping its distance。 He heard more
birds screeching to each other； but apart from a brief flutter of wings on the edge of his vision he
never saw a single one。 A jungle lizard skittered away as the Catachans approached。 Lorenzo
estimated it to be about twenty centimetres long； but without a closer inspection he couldn’t tell if it
was an adult or a baby。
It was almost as if Rogar III was watching the new arrivals； sizing them up just as they were
sizing up it。
Bulldog Rock was the first to order his squad to double time； and Greiss and the other sergeants
followed。 Not to be outdone； another squad struck up a cadence call。
12
A scream of engines drew his attention to the sky； and he caught a glint of red as the rays of the
sinking sun struck metal。 Two drop ships； ascending； from a point no more than a couple of
kilometres ahead。 He wondered what had happened to the third； and suppressed a shudder at the
thought that one platoon may not have been as fortunate as his own。
Not long after that； they came to the end of their own ship’s trail—the point at which it had hit
ground。 Lorenzo had looked forward to entering the jungle proper； but instead he found himself at
the edge of an expansive clearing。 It was man…made； about two kilometres in diameter； doubtless the
product of many hours of toil by Imperium troops with flamers—and yet the vegetation at the
clearing’s edge was already showing signs of re…growth。
Without breaking step； the Jungle Fighters made for a huddle of prefabricated buildings in the
clearing’s centre； now little more than shadows in the twilight。 As they reached it； the sergeants
shouted more orders； and the Catachans formed up in their squads again and fell silent。 Lorenzo was
aware that their noisy arrival had turned the heads of several Guardsmen who’d been standing
sentry。 It had also given fair warning of their approach to the commissar who now came to meet
them。
He was a young； fair…haired man with pale skin and ears that protruded very noticeably。 The
Imperial eagle spread its wings proudly on his peaked cap； and his slight form was almost
swallowed by a long； black overcoat。 Fresh out of training； Lorenzo thought。 Even Lieutenant
Vines； not a tall man； seemed to tower over the senior officer through presence alone。 Lorenzo
thought he could see a sneer pulling at Vines’ lips as he folded his arm into a lazy salute and
announced； “C Platoon； Third Company； Catachan XIV reporting for duty； sir。”
“Not before time； lieutenant；” said the commissar tersely。 “I assume it was your drop ship that
screamed over our heads an hour ago； and almost demolished the very camp we’ve been fighting to
defend？” He made it sound like an accusation； as if Vines had been piloting the ship himself。 Before
Vines could speak； however； the commissar raised his voice to address the assembled platoon。 “My
name is Mackenzie。 I am in command here—and as long as you are on Rogar III； my word is the
Emperor’s word； is that clear？”
A few of the Catachans mumbled a derisory； “Yes； sir。” Most of them said nothing。
Mackenzie scowled。 “Let me make this clear from the outset；” he snapped。 “I don’t like
deathworlders。 In my experience； they are sloppy and undisciplined； with an arrogance that far
outstrips their ability。 The Emperor has seen fit to send you here； and I concede you may have
certain expertise that will hasten a conclusion to this war。 But had the decision been mine； let me tell
you； I would rather have fought on the blessed birth world than ten from Canak
or Luther McIntyre or whatever hellhole it was you lot crawled out from。”
“Catachan； sir！” hollered Vines； and a