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Imperium had never strip…mined a world。 Maybe just not a world like Rogar III…
They came across a particularly large entranceway and Lorenzo hesitated； wondering if this
could be the cave to house the warboss。 He didn’t want to poke his head around the curtain； though：
he’d have been unlikely to see anything in the dark and he might have disturbed somebody。
Anyway； he could hear at least three different snores from within—and it was probable； he thought；
that the orks’ warboss had a cave to himself。
A moment later； however； more footsteps—shuffling unexpectedly from an unseen tunnel； little
more than a fissure in the rock—forced the two Jungle Fighters to duck into another cave。 And this
one was occupied。
Lorenzo held his breath； and not just because of the stink of ork bodies around him。 He could
just make them out： three festering lumps crammed together on the floor。 He had almost stepped on
one as he’d entered； and he eased his foot away from it。 For a moment； he thought he had left
Armstrong behind outside； so silent was he—but then he saw the glint of a single eye in the
darkness； and was comforted。
The footsteps shuffled up to the cave entrance； and for a moment Lorenzo feared he might have
had the bad luck to have taken cover in the wandering ork’s own quarters—but then the moment
passed and the footsteps were receding。 Heading for the main chamber； he guessed。
But there was still something wrong—badly wrong—if only he could put his finger on it。
Lorenzo’s spine prickled with dread。
He realised what was about to happen a second before it did； and he knew that his luck had
turned bad after all。 As bad as it could have been。
The tremor shook the soles of his feet； then seemed to rise through the walls and meet again
above his head。 One of the sleeping orks stirred instantly； and Lorenzo was trapped。 He didn’t think
it had seen him or Armstrong yet； but that could change in an instant； if they moved—and the
footsteps outside the cave had come to a halt； so where could they have gone anyway？
The waking ork was fumbling for something； and Lorenzo wondered if there was a chance； a
tiny chance； that he could reach it and muffle it before it yelled out； plant his hand over its mouth
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and his knife in its throat。 But that tremor wasn’t subsiding—and as he took his first step； the earth
bucked underneath him and he fell； put out his hands to catch himself； ended up sprawled across one
of the two sleeping orks。 Which； of course； was awake too now。
The first ork had found a miner’s helmet； and it snapped on the light； shining it around the cave。
Armstrong let loose with a las…bolt volley； which kept the ork pinned down but didn’t prevent it
from letting out an alarm howl。
So now the third ork was clambering to its feet； blinking； reaching for its weapon； and Lorenzo
was still trying to avoid the flailing grasp of the second。 It caught him by the arm； and he was trying
to pull away from it； dragging it to its feet after him； its fingers digging painfully into him。 He
turned； braced his shoulder against the ork’s chest and tried to throw it。 It was too heavy； shifting its
weight to counter his move； but in so doing it relaxed its hold； and Lorenzo wrenched himself free
from it； though it felt like he had lost a handful of his flesh。
Then he and Armstrong were running； as the third ork found its gun and fired—in entirely the
wrong direction； confused by the shifting shadows and its wounded fellow’s dancing beam of light。
The Jungle Fighters burst out into the passageway； where the ork they had been hiding from was
waiting； its gun raised。 Lorenzo lowered his head； rushed it； and a bullet pinged off his helmet； then
he cannoned into the ork and it gave a few paces but braced itself。 They were fighting for the ork’s
gun； and Lorenzo feinted； let the greenskin have the weapon but unbalanced it in the process。 It
stumbled； and fell onto his freshly drawn knife； impaling itself。 Planting his foot in the ork’s
stomach； he pulled the blade free。 It was still alive； but he didn’t have time to finish the job。
There were more orks in the passageway； pouring out of the openings on all sides； reacting to
the clamour； and the only thing that kept Lorenzo and Armstrong alive was the fact that the earth
was still shaking； and with increasing ferocity； confusing the issue； giving the orks more to worry
about than just them。 Armstrong made to flee back the way they had come； Lorenzo’s impulse was
to go deeper into the mine； find the ork leader； and they both came up short as they realised they
were pulling in opposite directions。
Lorenzo knew； just knew they were in danger； and he threw himself at Armstrong； barged him
into the wall as the roof caved in。 They were coated in soil； disturbed dust tearing at Lorenzo’s
throat； making his eyes water； but they had avoided the worst of it and the orks were reeling around
them； and Lorenzo grabbed Armstrong by the hand and pulled him along； guiding him through the
chaos by instinct； at a loss to explain where that instinct had come from。
The tremor was more than a tremor now。 It was a fully…fledged earthquake—and Lorenzo knew；
with a gut…wrenching certainty； that this was only the beginning。 The tunnel was shaking so fiercely；
it felt like he had double vision； cracks were opening in the walls； the floor was churning itself up；
tossing him about like a wild grox； and the roof was groaning and grinding and collapsing in stages。
Rogar III was taking its revenge on the orks that had defiled it； driving them out of itself or just
burying them。 Lorenzo had lost all sense of direction； but he was moving broadly with the ork flow；
and he knew that this meant he was headed back to the main chamber； and from there to the mine
entrance。 As if the planet itself was herding him that way。 What hope did he have now of finding the
ork warboss？ What hope for him at all in that lantern…lit clearing； with a hundred evacuated
greenskins waiting for him？ Even assuming he could make it that far。
He was looking for another option； a way to cheat his fate； when an ork reared up in front of
him； a spade levelled at his throat like a knife。 Lorenzo swung his fang； but the quake made the ork
appear to be in ten places at once； and his thrust passed through its ghost image。 He didn’t know
which of its ten spades to avoid。
But then； with a tremendous crack； the wall behind the ork split； and Lorenzo caught his breath
in the face of an explosion of fire。
Molten lava； bright red with its own luminescence。 It burst through the sundered rock； broke
over the ork’s back； and the creature let out a howl of incandescent pain。 Lorenzo didn’t stop to ask
how it was possible； how the planet could have pumped its own lifeblood so close to its surface。
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This was Rogar—and he could feel the lava’s heat scorching his face even before it reached him。 He
kicked out at the scalded； screeching ork； and landed his boot dead centre where all its images
combined。 It staggered； fell backwards； and its bulky form all but plugged the fissure as Lorenzo
had planned。 The ork’s screams were quelled； its body shuddered and fell still； as liquid fire crept
over its shoulders and between its legs。
Lorenzo and Armstrong had a moment’s respite。 Many of the orks behind them had held back；
or tried to back up along the narrow tunnel； when they’d seen the lava。 They were colliding with
each other； knocking each other down。 From the chorus of screams that suddenly rose from up there；
somewhere in the darkness； Lorenzo guessed that another lava spring had just opened behind them。
The Jungle Fighters ran—but Lorenzo dragged his comrade to a halt as； suddenly； he saw where
they were。 Above them was the hole in the roof through which they had dropped： the one that led up
to the natural gallery。 A way to circumvent the main chamber and all the confused； frightened； angry
orks within。
He gave Armstrong a boost； and the veteran shouldered his way up through the narrow opening；
attained the ledge above； then turned and reached down with his good arm for his comrade。 As
Lorenzo took it and scrambled up after him； an ork came roaring out of nowhere and swung its axe
at his dangling legs。 The shifting earth threw off its aim； and Lorenzo stamped on the ork’s face and
pushed himself up the final section of his climb。 He fired his lasgun down the hole behind him to
discourage pursuit； then turned and followed Armstrong along the narrow passageway—to find； to
his horror； that it came to an abrupt end。
The gallery； their route to freedom； had crumbled away。 They were looking out of a hole in the
side of the main chamber； at another hole too far to reach by jumping； the intervening expanse of
wall too sheer to climb along even if it hadn’t been shaking madly。 Lorenzo’s foot touched
something： the lantern they had passed earlier； still on its side； wedged into position by a stubborn
outcrop。 He followed its light beam； and on the floor of the chamber he saw a molten river。
The chamber had split down the middle； and its halves were divided by a roiling； bubbling lava
flow。 Dozens of orks had been trapped on its far side； and panic had broken out。 An ork tried to leap
the stream； but fell short； howling as its legs were dissolved； the rest of its body sinking after them
until only a thin wisp of steam remained of it。
Lorenzo had his own problems。 An ork head popped up through the hole in the floor behind him。
He and Armstrong fired at it—and； holding on with both hands； there wasn’t much it could do to
defend itself。 Even in death； though； it kept coming； the head followed into the passageway by a pair
of broad shoulders； then a green…skinned torso。 Lorenzo realised that the corpse was being pushed
up by more orks below； shielding them as they followed it。 The muzzle of a crude ork gun appeared
over the hole’s edge and fired blindly。 Bullets ricocheted around the confined space； and Lorenzo
drew a sharp breath through his teeth as his shoulder was nicked。
“We’re easy targets up here；” muttered Armstrong。 “We can hold off these greenskins for a
while—but our backs are exposed to the main chamber。 Once the orks down there see us； we’ll be
caught in a crossfire； dead meat。”
He was saying nothing Lorenzo didn’t know。 He cast around for something； anything—and his
eyes found the lantern。 It was trailing tangled cables in each direction around the great cavern；
clockwise； the next lantern still clung to the wall； but anticlockwise； the nearest two had been
wrenched free from their moorings and were hanging suspended。 Lorenzo pulled at the cables in that
direction； and found plenty of slack。
Armstrong glanced at him； saw what he was thinking and nodded his approval。 “That might get
one of us out of here；” he said。 “Go。 I’ll buy you some time。”
With that he was off； before Lorenzo could stop him—back down the passageway； leaping onto
the first ork as it hauled itself up out of the hole； taking it by surprise； forcing it back down but
falling with it； toward the bloodthirsty pack that Lorenzo knew must have gathered below。 His
instinct was to go after his comrade； to do what he could to help him—but not only was it hopeless；