engine’s machine…spirits and almost brimmed over with gratitude towards them when they came
alive for her。
The frame of the truck juddered as she pulled away； and the vehicle proceeded in fits and starts；
and almost stalled。 But Anakora was getting a feel for its workings； and she picked up speed as she
pulled the steering wheel around hard。 And now Steele and the Chaos Space Marine were dead
ahead of her。
They heard her coming； of course。 She had been counting on that； counting on Steele being able
to get out of her way somehow。 As the chainsword lashed out again； he feinted and； instead of
ducking beneath its teeth； he darted inwards； caught the Chaos Space Marine’s elbow； and twisted
and pushed for all he was worth。
He couldn’t overbalance his opponent — he was too strong； too heavy — but he did make him
shift his footing； and that gave Steele the tiniest of openings。 It gave him time enough to disengage
from the battle； and to throw himself backwards。 Seeing what he was doing； the Chaos Space
Marine made a grab for him； tried to make a human shield out of him； but Steele was just a fraction
too fast for him — and Anakora had a clear ran at her target。 She floored the accelerator pedal。
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The Chaos Space Marine whirled to face her； flexing his powerful leg muscles； making to jump。
For a moment； Anakora thought he was actually going to make it； thought he was going to leap up
onto the bonnet； thrust his hands through the windscreen and find her throat。 But then the track
smacked into him； and carried him ten metres or more； before； with a rending and a screeching of
metal and plasteel； it slammed him hard into； and almost through； a solid stone wall。
Anakora was flung forward； and her head hit the windscreen； shattering the plexiglas。 Her
helmet protected her； but she was dazed。 She thought the sensation she could feel in her stomach；
the feeling that the world was tilting； was a symptom of nausea； until firm hands took her shoulders；
and she was distantly aware that Steele had reached into the cab； grabbed her； and was dragging her
out of there。
Even so； the sword was inching its way towards the colonel’s heart； howling as if in anticipation
of the moment when it would sink its teeth into his flimsy armour。
Anakora raised her gun； but Steele yelled； “No！ Leave me！ Find the others！ Complete the
mission！ I’ll hold this thing off for as long as I can！”
She was rooted to the spot； still unsure； still thinking。 If only I could find some way to die
instead of him。 She couldn’t be the one to report to the others that he’d fallen； that she had done
nothing to stop it； nothing but run。 She couldn’t do that again。
She moved around behind the Chaos Space Marine； putting his great bulk between her and
Steele。 She set her gun to full auto and pounded him with las…fire until her power pack was
exhausted — by which time she had burned through his armour and dislodged a shoulder plate； but
Steele was on his knees； unable to keep his attacker at bay for much longer； and through clenched
teeth； in a hoarse voice； he yelled； “Get out of here。 That’s an order； Trooper Anakora。 Go！”
She had no choice now。 Anakora ran — because； if there was one thing the Imperial Guard
instilled in its troopers； one mantra by which they lived； it was that an order was always to be
obeyed； immediately and without question。
That； and because Steele was right； because she couldn’t achieve anything by staying； because
the Emperor would have disapproved of her giving her life in a lost cause； taking the easy way out。
Anakora ran； with the ghosts of Astaroth Prime howling in her ears。
And the teeth of the chainsword gave one final； piercing scream behind her； and then silence
fell。
That damned itch had spread to Pozhar’s shoulder。
He almost wished the Chaos Space Marine had come after him instead of choosing another
target。 He longed to be discovered by more Traitor Guardsmen。
It was no longer just that he wished to serve the Emperor through combat。 It had become much
more than that。 When Pozhar was fighting； he couldn’t feel what was happening to him。 He could
believe that； when the fighting stopped； everything would be all right — that； through the practice of
exercising his muscles in a righteous cause； he could somehow cleanse his system； force a reversal
of the… the…
He couldn’t even think the word； couldn’t form it in his mind。
He would have hacked off his own arm to keep the grey fur from spreading； had there been a
way to do that without betraying his shame to everyone。
He tried not to think about it； tried to concentrate on the gloomy surroundings of the sewer
tunnel and on his comrades。 Sergeant Gavotski was walking at the head of the six…strong group with
Tollenberg。 The rest of the Ice Warriors were behind them； with the red…headed woman bringing up
the rear。
“How many of you are there？” asked Gavotski。
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“A couple of hundred；” said their guide。 “We were civilians before the war： miners；
administrators； teachers。 When Chaos came to our doorsteps； we gathered in the chapels to pray for
His guidance。 When the chapels fell； He led us into these tunnels。”
“You should have stayed and fought；” grumbled Blonsky。
“We’re fighting now；” Tollenberg assured him； “fighting to keep our minds pure； learning how
to use what weapons we can scavenge； preparing for the day when the Imperial army arrives to
retake our home。 On that day； we will emerge into our streets again； into the traitors’ midst； and we
will die for that glorious cause。”
His words swelled something in Pozhar’s heart。 He wished he could tell this eager young man
that salvation was on its way； that the Ice Warriors were merely the vanguard for a far larger force；
and that the loyalists of Cressida had not been abandoned。 He wished he could join them in their
fight； a glorious cause indeed。
“We have a mission；” said Gavotski； skirting the issue； “a very specific mission。 We have come
here to rescue one man。”
“Confessor Wollkenden； yes。” Tollenberg nodded。 “We know about him。”
“Then you know we have to get to the Ice Palace。”
“And you’re leading us away from it；” said Grayle； suddenly。 He had been inspecting his
compass in the yellow lamplight； but he was not as adept with it as Palinev would have been； and it
had taken him some time to confirm his suspicions。
They had been walking along a narrow ledge； in single file； but now the brickwork tapered away
and they were forced back into the water。 Pozhar thought he felt something — a cold； wriggling
something — brushing against his foot。
“The direct approach is dangerous；” said Tollenberg。 “Mangellan may not have men down here；
but there are other things； dreadful things； in the dark — and the closer you get to the Ice Palace； the
worse the corruption becomes。”
“We’re not afraid of any stinking mutants！” grumbled Pozhar。
Tollenberg fixed him with a long； narrow…eyed look that the young trooper couldn’t quite read。
Then； quietly； he said； “No； I am sure you’re not。 Still； we can help you avoid the worst of the
dangers — if you trust us。”
There was something wrong。
Blonsky knew it as soon he emerged into the candlelit chapel； as soon as he was able to stand
upright； and his hand went to his lasgun。
They had climbed another ladder — a short one； this time — and Tollenberg had rapped on the
underside of a manhole cover at its top： the same signal as before； three taps； then a pause； then two
more。 The cover had been scraped aside； and the silhouette of another smock…clad man had loomed
over them； against a circular background of flaring light。 The man had reached down a hand towards
them。
Blonsky had been the second of the Ice Warriors to be hauled up out of the hole； behind Pozhar
— and immediately； he had detected the stench of Chaos。 But reeking as he was； as they all were；
from the sewer water； he couldn’t pinpoint its source — and； casting around； he could see no
immediate threat。
Perhaps； he thought； his senses were reacting to the desecration of this once…holy place。 Some
effort had been made by the loyalists to reclaim the building； to reconstruct the altar and to scrub the
disgusting Chaos sigils from the walls — but still； he couldn’t help but feel that the spirit of the
God…Emperor had withdrawn from here and that no amount of restitution could induce its return。
At one end of the chapel； two ornate pillars had been shattered； bringing about a partial collapse
of the vaulted ceiling。 A little daylight spilled in through a broken window frame； and glinted off
fragments of coloured glass amid the rubble。 Wall hangings had been torn down and burnt。
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There were more figures here； thirty or forty of them； their blue worker’s smocks beginning to
look like a kind of uniform。 They were scrubbing the floors or trying to piece together the remnants
of broken treasures； or just kneeling at the altar in silent prayer。 All of them started to react to the
arrival of four strangers； to clamber to their feet； to stare in both awe and hope。
They began to close in around the Ice Warriors。
And that was when Blonsky realised what was happening： when he saw the figures’ odd；
shambling gaits and glimpsed a tuft of grey fur protruding from a blue sleeve。 And he drew his
lasgun； and spun around and shot the red…headed woman through the head as she was helping
Gavotski up from the ladder。 She fell； a look of wounded surprise on her face； and Blonsky turned to
deal with Tollenberg。
He had been beaten to it。 Their fair…haired young guide was lying at Pozhar’s feet； his hands
clutched to his throat； blood welling between his fingers。
“I warned you；” Pozhar snarled。 “I told you what I’d do to you。” And as Tollenberg died； his
smock slipped from his left shoulder； and Blonsky saw a bright green mole on his skin； proof that he
had been right。
By now； Grayle was reaching for his weapon too。 Gavotski scrambled to his feet； looking as
surprised as the woman had been； and Blonsky spelled it out to him：
“It’s an ambush； sergeant。 They’re mutants； all of them。 They’re stinking mutants！”
This was getting to be a habit； thought Steele： facing his own death； making peace with it； only to be
given a very rude awakening。
This time； even the mechanical parts of his brain had shut down。 His memories ended with the
battle； with the chainsword that had shredded his armoured greatcoat； and the flesh beneath it。
Bleeding from the chest； Steele had fallen onto his face； and blacked out。 The Chaos Space Marine
could have； should have； finished him off there and then。 He didn’t know why he hadn’t。
He couldn’t feel his legs。 He was surrounded by Traitor Guardsmen。 They were pressed up
against him； holding his arms； half…carrying him so that his feet dragged along the street behind him。
His greatcoat hung open； no more than a few ragged strips of plasfibre now。 His chest and his
stomach were stiff with synth…skin。
“He’s awake！” a voice grunted； somewhere near his ear。
“Yeah？ Then why are we still carrying him？” He felt the muzzle of a lasgun in his back； and the
second voice snarled； “Get walking； Emperor…lover！”
Steele’s response to this was short and succinct； but it effectively co