convinced of above all else； was simply this： unless the Emperor Himself descended from the
heavens to offer them His Divine Protection； not a single man in his beloved armoured division was
going to make it off this blasted world alive。 The cards were stacked against them like never before。
Millions of men had died in the Golgothan War all those years ago。 Now； like those men； the fate of
Bergen’s troopers would be written in the blood…red sand。
He’d fight it all the way of course。 He swore it。 He had been born and raised to fight； and there
was nothing he wouldn’t do to see his men through this。
I’ll go over the old man’s head if I have to。 Killian and Rennkamp will back me up。 Together；
we’ll go to Morten and…
The thought went unfinished。 Tiredness crashed over Bergen like a tidal wave and he fell back
onto the bed； asleep before his head hit the pillow。
* * *
Elsewhere on the base； about a kilometre west of Bergen’s quarters； the three senior agents of the
Adeptus Mechanicus had returned to their apartments and were being attended by a flock of child
like slaves。 True children would have perished very quickly in such a place — the pungent
chemicals that misted the air would have dissolved the tissue of their lungs — but these were not
true children。 They had once been so； long ago； before extensive surgeries had converted them into
ageless amalgams of flesh and metal like the tech…priests they served； though far less sophisticated。
Their brains had been cruelly cut； rendering them incapable of independent thought； and their voices
had been silenced forever。 Their only function was to obey and； as such； they were beyond sin；
beyond mischief or evil。 Perhaps in recognition of this； their creator had crafted bronze masks for
them； faces frozen in beatific smiles； like half…living sculptures of holy cherubim。
They clustered around their masters； disrobing them； removing peripheral devices； pulling dataplugs
from flesh…sockets。 Then they helped the tech…priests into a deep circular tub filled with a
thick； glowing； milky substance that cast its light up to the metal ceiling。 When this was done； the
cherub…slaves retreated to shadowy alcoves set in the walls。 There； they deactivated； and became
like dolls at rest in upright coffins。
Apart from the area lit by the glowing pool； the Mechanicus quarters were dark and foulsmelling。
To the tech…priests； these things mattered not at all。 The darkness hid nothing from
augmetic eyes that could see in many spectrums of light。 The smells registered only as lists of
airborne compounds in varying concentrations； neither pleasant nor unpleasant； simply there。
Wading to the far side of the small pool； Tech…Magos Sennesdiar submerged his misshapen；
patchwork body all the way to his neck。 Adepts Xephous and Armadron followed suit； and the
glowing liquid within the tub bubbled and churned like hot soup。
It was Armadron who broke the silence。 His words； when he spoke them； were delivered in the
same chalkboard screech he had used at the general’s table。
The tech…magos answered with his own condensed； high…pitched burst。
Armadron did not reply； a sign that he was reflecting on his superior’s words。
said Xephous。 His mandibles
clacked together loudly at the end of his burst； something Sennesdiar considered an unworthy habit。
replied Sennesdiar。
Xephous shifted； sending slow ripples over the surface of the milky goop； and said；
said Armadron。
Sennesdiar turned his whirring eye…lenses from one to the other。
said Armadron。
added Xephous。
said
Sennesdiar； cutting across his subordinate。
countered Xephous。
Xephous said；
said the tech…magos。
Armadron bowed his near…featureless head； pulling taut the segmented cables that connected his
steel…encased brain to the augmetic ports on his naked metal vertebrae。
protested Xephous。
36
said the magos；
said Armadron。
said Armadron。
replied Sennesdiar。
asked Xephous。
the magos replied； interrupting
his adept。
Armadron bowed his head and issued a short burst of noise that expressed his understanding and
absolute obedience。
Sennesdiar rose from the pool； broadcasting an activation code to the cherub…slaves in their
alcoves。 They jerked forwards to tend to him as he stepped out。 Thick fluids ran down his bloodless
body； along the piston housings and cables that jutted from the pallid remnants of the flesh into
which he had been born almost four centuries earlier。 Silvery drops rolled from his slender metal
fingers to the grille floor below as he waited for the little slaves to dress him。
In his robes once more； he stepped to the door of his private chamber； turned and said；
they intoned dutifully。
added Armadron。
said Sennesdiar。 Then he swept from the room；
leaving his adepts to soak in the bubbling pool。 They left shortly after him； however； for there was
much to be done。
37
CHAPTER FIVE
“Hold them back； you dogs；” bellowed Colonel Stromm。 “Don’t let them pass the outer lines！” He
fired his hellpistol into the charging mass of orks； but； squinting through the haze and the sweat that
stung his eyes； it was difficult to see the level of damage he was causing。 With his free hand； he
grabbed his adjutant； Lieutenant Kassel； by the collar； yanking him close to shout in his ear。 “Where
the frak are my Kasrkin； Hans？ Why aren’t they shoring up those blasted gaps？”
The air danced with tracer fire as the orks pushed closer； huge pistols and stubbers blazing。 The
Cadians fired back with deadly intensity； bright las…beams licking out from their sandbagged
positions； slicing through the clouds of billowing dust thrown up