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 abandoned all pretence。
He left a trail of debris behind him as he raced through the jungle； he just hoped his pursuers
wouldn’t recognise it for what it was。 He put as many obstacles as he could between him and them。
The orks were snarling and howling； and letting off gunfire in random directions； so he knew they
wouldn’t hear him； as long as they didn’t see him either； they should assume he had sunk
underground like Rogar’s other zombies。 In theory； at least。
The explosions came in quick succession—two of them。 The orks had run into their own traps；
the positions of the tripwires changed by Greiss and Myers。 Some of them would have died。 It was
still too early to tell； though； if the rest of the plan—the important part—had succeeded。
There was mud in Lorenzo’s eyes and mouth； but he had reached his rendezvous point with the
rest of his squad。 He was the first there。 He clawed great handfuls of dirt from his face； breathed
deeply of the warm night air and coughed up a leaf。 He was recognisably Lorenzo now； but a film of
the planet’s substance clung to him like a second skin。 He didn’t think he would ever feel clean
again。
Somebody spoke； and he jumped； he hadn’t heard anybody approaching。 Then he recognised
Greiss’ voice； and saw the familiar figure of his sergeant out of the corner of his eye； though he
couldn’t make out what he was saying； so bunged up were his ears。 He started to clean them with his
fingers； as Greiss padded up to him and laid a hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder。
That was when he saw his mistake。
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Lorenzo’s head snapped up； and he looked into the hollow eyes of an effigy。 A better effigy； far
better； than the first two； Rogar had sculpted Greiss’ craggy features perfectly； even found plant
tendrils to match the iron grey of his hair。 And that voice—it had possessed exactly the right gruff
tone； even if； Lorenzo now realised； it hadn’t been saying a thing。 He muttered a curse； aimed at
himself for not having paid attention； as he pushed the effigy away from him and dived at the same
time； but knew it was hopeless。
The effigy exploded； and Lorenzo felt his ears popping； felt its spines stabbing into him before
he hit the ground； his left side feeling as if it was on fire。
He rolled onto his back； raised his left arm； and saw four spines protruding along its length； three
more embedded between his ribs。 He yanked them out quickly； some tearing his skin and sending
more lances of pain through him。 Most of the spines； he was grateful to see； still dripped poison and
therefore hadn’t pumped the whole of their doses into him。 Seven spines； though… He was bleeding
through some of his wounds； and this too was good because it meant he might bleed some of the
poison out。 He twisted his arm around until he could reach two of its punctures with his mouth； and
he sucked at them； his tongue recoiling at a strong； sour taste。
His heart was hammering； his head light。 The first effects of the poison—or of his own fear？ He
didn’t want it to end like this。 Not through his own carelessness。 Not without a name by which his
comrades could remember him。
He searched his pockets； found the capsule of herbs that Donovits had given him some months
ago。 A generic antitoxin； he had called it—though he had warned it wouldn’t work in all situations。
Deathworlds； Donovits had said； had a habit of evolving poisons faster than men could combat
them—and； Lorenzo supposed gloomily； he would have said that went double for a world like
Rogar III。
He gulped the herbs down anyway； taking hold of all the lifelines he could。 He clambered
unsteadily to his feet as Armstrong burst through the jungle behind him； followed by Storm； Greiss
and then Braxton。
Lorenzo told them what had happened to him。 He had no choice： he had to warn them in case
Rogar tried the same trick on them。 He downplayed his injuries； though； claiming to have been hit
by only three spines and professing a false confidence that he had sucked most of the poison out of
his bloodstream。 Greiss gave him a sceptical look； but Lorenzo was able to return it with clear；
focused eyes。 Maybe； he thought； he would be alright after all？
Myers returned a few minutes after that—having stayed to view the aftermath of the Jungle
Fighters’ incursion—and Lorenzo could tell from his broad grin that he had the news they wanted to
hear。 “We gunned down three greenskins altogether；” he reported； “and wounded a few more。 They
lost another three； and most of the gretchin； to their own traps。”
“They called for replacements？” asked Greiss。
Myers shook his head。 “Just spread their sentries more thinly。 “It worked； sergeant。 Judging by
the way they’re looking around and pointing guns at the plants； they think the planet did this to
them。”
“How many orks left？” asked Armstrong； performing a quick mental calculation。 “Six？”
“Five；” said Myers。 “One went and stood itself right next to my bush。 I caught a jungle lizard
creeping up on me。 I couldn’t resist it。 I gave it a flick with my lasgun； catapulted it onto the
greenskin’s shoulder。 The lizard stuck the ork’s neck with its tongue before it could move。 It was on
the ground； thrashing and howling； when I slipped away。”
“Five orks；” said Greiss； “and how many gretchin？”
“I reckon about four。 Five； maybe；” said Myers。
“Not bad；” mused Armstrong。 “We got the greenskins down to less than half strength； and they
don’t even know they’re under attack yet。”
The Jungle Fighters’ next step was to make their presence well and truly felt。
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They synchronised their assault； bursting out of cover from six points simultaneously； their
lasguns flaring。 Lorenzo； Braxton； Greiss； Armstrong and Storm took an ork each； though
Armstrong had grumbled under his breath about being assigned one that was already injured。 As
Lorenzo fired repeatedly at his target； he was aware of gretchin scampering away towards the mine；
intent on taking a warning to their warboss。 That was Myers’ job： to stop them。
Myers’ las…bolts struck the stunted creatures unerringly； often finding the best angles from which
to penetrate two or three of them。 Two gretchin fell； and the remaining three were deterred from
their course； giving Myers the chance to get between them and the mine tunnel。 The single ork that
had been guarding the entrance had been lured away by Greiss； now it hesitated； glancing back； not
sure whether to press its attack against Greiss or to tackle this new foe。 In the event； it was spared
that decision。 One of Greiss’ las…bolts passed through the ork’s thick skull and fried its brain。
Lorenzo’s ork was thundering towards him； weakened but not defeated。 He dropped his gun；
pulled his Catachan fang； and greeted his opponent with a well…aimed slash to the throat。 The ork
was dead； but still fighting。 Lorenzo avoided its clumsy grasp； but almost fell as it rammed him with
its shoulder。 The ork toppled； catching him off…balance； and bore him down with its weight。 Its left
hand was trapped beneath it； but it seized his throat with its right； and Lorenzo grabbed a chunky
green finger in each hand and strained to pry them apart。
The ork ran out of strength； and its eyes rolled back into its head as it heaved its final breath。
Lorenzo pulled himself out from under it； in time to see Sergeant Greiss gunning down the last of
the gretchin。 The rest of his squad were already pulling ork corpses into the foliage； hiding them；
and Lorenzo followed suit。 None of their targets had survived to spread word； but it was possible
that the sounds of battle had carried into the mine。
Lorenzo waited； crouching silently； watching the tunnel entrance； the blood of his dead enemy
seeping into his boot。 After a minute or so； something stirred down there； and Lorenzo tensed at the
sight of an oncoming light。
It was another barrow…pushing ork。 Evidently； it hadn’t heard anything amiss； because it strode
right out into the clearing and stood there； blinking in the harsh light of the lanterns； just beginning
to register the fact that it was alone。
It dropped its barrow； which teetered and upturned itself； spilling its contents。 A look of
confusion； tinged with fear； began to spread across the ork’s face—and froze there as multiple lasbolts
stabbed out of the darkness to impale it。
The Jungle Fighters emerged into the clearing again； and Greiss jabbed the fallen ork with his
toe to check that it was really dead； that it wouldn’t spring up and surprise them。 Myers asked if they
should burn the bodies； to prevent the planet from making use of them。 Greiss concluded；
reluctantly； that they had no time； that their work here could be discovered at any moment； and that
they would just have to take that chance。
They headed into the mine tunnel； in single file； Storm taking point wearing an ork miner’s
helmet； lighting their way through the darkness。 Myers was behind him； then Armstrong； Braxton；
Lorenzo and finally Greiss； his knife drawn； ready for anything that might try sneaking up on them
from behind。
They had taken only ten steps； hardly left the lights of the clearing behind them； when they came
across another ork with a barrow。 Its helmet beam dazzled Lorenzo—but Storm’s beam blinded the
ork in turn so that； for a fateful moment； it didn’t recognise the intruders for what they were。
Sergeant Greiss had decreed that lasguns should only be used now when strictly necessary—not just
because they were low on ammo； but because who knew how far the sound would carry through
these tunnels—so Storm leapt at the creature with a muted snarl and his Catachan fang raised and；
impressively； he gutted it before it could raise much more than a whimper。
Storm took the dead ork’s helmet and passed it back along the line to Greiss； who turned off the
helmet’s light but placed it on his head for future use。 Then they crept on downward； the slope of the
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tunnel becoming more pronounced until Lorenzo judged that they were descending below ground
level。
He eyed the precarious wooden struts—most of them just branches chopped to size； still
sprouting offshoots and leaves—that were wedged into the passageway supporting the increasing
weight of the earth above their heads。 He didn’t trust them。
The ground shook again then； as if to underscore his fears； and Lorenzo swallowed as the
makeshift struts rattled fiercely and a shower of loose soil fell about his ears。 He couldn’t tell if this
tremor was lighter or heavier than the first two； he only knew that it felt more ominous down here；
where it wasn’t just below him but around him and above him too； and where he knew there would
be nowhere to hide from a more severe quake； no way to avoid being buried alive。
“You realise；” said Braxton； putting Lorenzo’s own thoughts into words as the tremor subsided；
“if this place caves in； we’ll have come all this way for nothing。 Rogar will have dealt with Big
Green for us。”
“Maybe；” grunted Greiss； “and maybe not。 Maybe he’ll just slip away through his escape tunnel；
wherever that is； and maybe