bodies of good Cadian men were being blasted apart to rain back down to the ground in ragged
pieces。 Scores of them were dying with every lethal shot； and the greenskins on foot were using the
cover of the artillery fire to bridge the gap； hungry for the slaughter that would take place at close
quarters。 Elsewhere； Vinnemann’s tanks were holding their own against the technically inferior but
far more numerous ork machines。 Smoking wrecks littered the land； providing cover for small
groups of terrified men who had lost their nerve。 Through his field glasses； Bergen saw one such
group huddled together； eyes shut tight； hands pressed over their ears。 It was hard to see through all
the smoke and fire； but they were clearly green。 New meat。
Where in the blasted warp was their sergeant？
If their regimental commissar noticed them huddled there； frozen in fear and panic； they
wouldn’t live to become old meat。 Executions for cowardice were swift and brutal。 There were no
appeals。 Bergen didn’t like executions； but it was the way of the Guard： do your duty and die well；
or run from it and die without honour。
He pitied them。 It was easy to lose your balance when everything around you was going to hell。
He voxed Colonel Graves。 “Division to Infantry Command。 It looks like some of your rookies have
lost their officer。 Check those burning tanks on your ten o’clock； Graves。 Get someone over there。
Get them back in the fight。 If the orks find them first they’ll be massacred。”
Colonel Graves’ response was brief and affirmative。 Seconds later； Bergen saw a squad push left
and join the huddled men。 His attention was diverted； however； by a high…pitched whine that rose
from the right。 He had heard its like before； though on regrettably rare occasions。 Hearing it now
caused a thrill to run through him。 He immediately panned his glasses towards Vinnemann’s
Shadowsword and saw a white glow forming at the muzzle of her huge cannon。 Knowing what was
to come； he turned his eyes towards the black artillery pieces by the outpost gates。 Over…muscled
greenskin gunnery crews were hefting shells the size of oil drums into the breech of each huge gun；
readying to pulverise the advancing Cadian lines once again。
64
There was an almighty crack； like a clap of thunder； so close that Bergen felt it resonate deep in
his bones。 Everything in the area outside the outpost’s main gates was engulfed in blinding white
light。 Bergen thought he saw the shot hit the row of greenskin war machines at an angle； cutting
across them diagonally； but he could only watch for a fraction of a second。 Looking directly at the
beam was painful； and he squeezed his eyes shut。
A glowing afterimage of the Volcano’s lethal beam remained behind his eyelids。 When he
opened his eyes again； he saw that a good number of the enemy machines had ceased to exist。
Bubbling pools of liquid metal were the only trace left。 Others； though not struck directly； would no
longer be firing on his men。 Their crews had been roasted to ash。 The raw heat of the Volcano beam
striking the neighbouring guns was simply too intense to survive。
The Cadian infantry had seen it all happen。 A great cheer sounded from the battlefield as their
spirits were lifted； and they surged forward； inspired by the incredible display of power they had
witnessed from their own side。 Bergen could feel it on the air； the special moment that every
commander awaited so anxiously。 It was the beginning of the end。
He voxed Vinnemann。 “Division to Armour Command。 Hell of a shot； Kochatkis。 Hell of a shot。
That showed the filthy savages。”
Vinnemann answered through gasping breaths。 “Thank you； sir。 Great to fire up the old Volcano
cannon again after so long。 She’s drained the tanks； though。 And we lost two capacitors。 We’ll need
a Trojan over here for a refuel。”
“Are you all right； man？ You sound…”
“Don’t worry about me； sir；” replied Vinnemann。 “It’s just the usual。 I’ll deal with it when this is
over。”
Bergen was scanning the field of combat； watching his forces surge forward； taking a murderous
toll on the foe。
“You won’t have to wait long； Kochatkis。 Our lads are really pressing forward now。 You’ve
inspired them； by Terra。 They’re cutting into the ork lines like a bayonet through butter。”
It was no lie。 The greenskins’ brute strength and instinct for battle simply weren’t enough to
hold off the well…coordinated Imperial forces any longer。
Within the hour； the walls of Karavassa were breached。
65
CHAPTER NINE
Gunfire still stuttered here and there along Karavassa’s narrow streets； but the sounds of battle were
little more than faint echoes of the madness and bloodshed that had now passed。 The outpost had
been retaken。 Bergen had achieved his objective。 General deViers had the first of the positions that
would defend his supply and transport routes between Hadron Base and his intended destination in
the east。
One of Colonel Marrenburg’s mechanised platoons had found and killed the ork leader； an
abomination of preposterous size and musculature； while securing the old Imperial communications
building at the heart of the outpost。 Bergen had been invited to verify this as soon as the area was
judged clear of significant threats。 Now he stood in a broad； low…ceilinged room； looking down on
the body； marvelling at the size of the creature that lay motionless on the stone floor at his feet。 The
smell from it was overpowering； like stale sweat and rotting garbage。
He judged the fallen warboss to be at least two and a half metres tall； and not much less from
shoulder to shoulder if one included the hunks of iron plate that had been bolted together to form its
crude armour。 It would have needed to hunch over just to fit inside the building； but then； orks
tended to hunch anyway due to the massive slabs of overdeveloped muscle that covered their bodies。
There was a poorly painted skull and dagger design on its angular breastplate； the symbol of
whatever clan the foul wretch had lorded over。 Bergen didn’t recognise the glyph。
“Not the best looking bastard I’ve met； sir；” said Colonel Marrenburg。 He stepped forward；
stopping at Bergen’s side。
“He’s no charmer； Edwyn；” Bergen replied； “that’s for sure。 Are we certain this one is the
leader？”
“It’s always the biggest； isn’t it？” said Marrenburg。 “He had a bodyguard around him； too。 Lost
eleven men taking him and his guards down。” The colonel kicked the dead ork’s thick forearm in
contempt。 Bergen watched the huge lifeless hand flop on the floor。 The creature’s thick fingers
looked like they could have crushed a man’s bones to powder。 “Made him pay in the end； though；”
said Marrenburg。 “Mind if I smoke； sir？”
“Go ahead；” said Bergen。 “Maybe it’ll cover the stink。”
“We’ll have this place cleaned out in no time； sir；” replied Marrenburg as he pulled a packet of
smokes from his breast pocket。 “Offer you one？”
“No； thanks。”
“Sorry； sir；” said Marrenburg with a grin。 “I always forget you don’t。 Anyway； if you’re done
looking at this one； the enginseers are waiting to set up some kind of equipment。 Don’t suppose
they’ve come up with a solution to the long…range vox problem； do you？”
Bergen turned from the dead ork。 “In a roundabout way； I suppose they have。 The tech…priests
have been laying cables under the sand all the way here； a kind of landline that they insist will do
the job。 Tech…Adept Armadron has promised to brief us fully once the system is operational。 It’ll
save us having to send any more runners all the way back to Hadron to communicate with the
general。”
“Have you sent one to report on our victory here？”
Bergen nodded。 “Two； actually； just in case。 Hornet riders with coded parchments。 I sent them
out as soon as we entered the gates。 I expect Tech…Adept Armadron will have his landline system up
and running before they reach Hadron Base； but I like to have a little insurance。”
66
Hornet motorcycles were a variant of the old standard…issue Blackshadow bikes。 They were
noisy； unarmed； and unarmoured； but they were the fastest machines available to 10th Division。
Excepting for any problems； Bergen expected the couriers to reach Army Group HQ the following
day。
“Very wise； sir；” replied Marrenburg with a nod。
Bergen didn’t feel wise。 Today’s victory had lifted his spirits — he had seen the raw might of
his armoured division overcome a significant enemy presence； and he knew a good number of his
men； including no small percentage of those who had died； deserved medals for what they had
achieved — but he still railed against the stupidity of the whole operation。 Taking Karavassa
wouldn’t matter a damn once General deViers got to the final way…point and found nothing left of
the legendary tank he so desperately sought。
Bergen intended to be there when it happened； to see the look on the general’s face。
“Any word on getting a hospital set up？” he asked； returning his mind to more immediate
concerns。
Marrenburg said he didn’t know； but Bergen’s adjutant； Katz； stepped forward and answered；
“The Officio Medicae staff have taken over a two…storey barracks building close to the west gate。
It’s been swept for threats。 No problems。 Their triage teams have already brought in the high priority
cases。”
“Good；” said Bergen。 “Make sure they have everything they need。 I’m also worried about
Colonel Vinnemann。 I want him seen by an augmetics specialist as soon as possible。 The gravity
here； the dust and all the rest of it… From the sounds of it； it’s all playing absolute hell with that
damned metal spine of his。”
Marrenburg seemed about to comment when Colonel Graves marched in； boot heels loud and
sharp on the stone floor。 After a momentary glance in the direction of the dead warboss on the floor；
he stopped； saluted； and said； “Just had word from one of my sweeper teams； sir。 There’s something
I think you ought to see。”
The something in question did nothing to improve Bergen’s dark mood。 In fact； it had quite the
opposite effect。
“Slaves；” he gasped。 “Human slaves。”
He stood in an open square a few hundred metres inside the north wall； looking at a mound of
dead men and women。 All were stripped。 All were chained together； each iron collar linked to the
next； every wrist and ankle tightly manacled。 The flesh of their skinny chests and buttocks had been
cruelly branded with the same glyph that Bergen had seen on the greenskin leader’s breastplate。
Worst of all； each torso bore broad axe and cleaver wounds。 They had been slaughtered like grox。
But why？ He could only guess。 Perhaps； with the battle…lust on them； the orks within the walls had
lost control； desperate to share in the bloodletting； and turned on those humans closest to hand。 The
results were stomach…churning。 If Bergen’s heart had not already been filled with hatred for the
greenskin race； the sight before him would certainly have done the trick。 Blood…drinking ticks
crawled in swarms over the cooling bodies； searching for the sustenance they craved； but finding
little in veins that no longer pulsed。
“We should have expected this；” muttered Lieutenant Katz from behind Bergen’s right shoulder。
“Should we； Jarryl？”
“I