here。 Go ahead。”
“Tenth； this is Regiment；” said Colonel Stromm。 “It looks like we’re caught between a rock and
a hard place。 Have you looked south…east recently？”
“I have； sir；” said van Droi。 “Don’t like the view much。 Very difficult to estimate party strength
given distance and conditions； but I think it’s fair to say we’re a little outnumbered。 Assuming the
majority of those green…skins are on wheels； they could well catch us by midday。”
“The galaxy does like to stack the odds against us； doesn’t it； lieutenant？” said Stromm。
“No glory in easy victories； sir。 Still； a man should know his limits。”
“Or in this case；” replied Stromm； “the limits of his machines。 I think… Hold on a moment；
lieutenant。”
Stromm cut the link。 A few seconds later； the same light on van Droi’s vox…board started
flashing again。 He hit the toggle。 “Sir？”
“Sorry about that； van Droi；” said Stromm。 “Just got word from our scouts。 I’ll let you judge for
yourself whether it’s good or bad。 He’s reporting a massive dust storm up ahead。 Point your
magnoculars a few degrees east of our current heading。 You can just about make it out。”
“It’s going to hit？”
“Soon； apparently。 It’s moving fast。 If we cut south…east we can probably escape the worst of it；
but—”
“But it’ll put us within easy striking range of the orks at our back； sir。 By the blasted Eye！”
“You said it； lieutenant。 I’m not about to order our lads into a battle we won’t survive without a
damned good reason。 I say we head straight into the storm。 Take our chances。 If anything； it might
serve to cover our tracks。 We might actually lose the bastards。 What do you say？”
It’s a ballsy move； thought van Droi。 There’s plenty that could go wrong。 On the other hand…
“The machine…spirits aren’t going to like it； sir；” he said。 “I’d put money on mechanical failures。
Any estimates on how long the storm will last？ We won’t be able to see a damned thing while we’re
in there。 If we move at all； it’ll have to be very slowly。”
“There’s no way to say how long； van Droi；” voxed Stromm。 “The environmental summaries the
Mechanicus issued during warp transit painted a pretty bleak picture。 Some storms last a few hours；
others last days； even weeks。”
“That’s one hell of a gamble； sir。”
“Are you much of a gambling man； lieutenant？”
“I guess I am today；” said van Droi。
“That’s what I thought。 Let’s roll the dice and hope for the best。 And may the Emperor’s luck be
with us。 Stromm out。”
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Colonel Stromm ordered his column to a complete stop as it was hit by the fringes of the coming
dust storm。 Visibility had dropped to about fifty metres already。 The air around the Imperial
machines was dark with veils of gusting sand； and the wind howled； rocking the vehicles on their
suspension。 The sky was gone from view。 On the colonel’s orders； anxious men emerged from
hatches and cabin doors with their faces goggled and masked； their bodies covered as much as
possible against the stinging assault of the hard red grains。
Their voices didn’t travel far。 Words already muffled by rebreather masks were snatched away
by the rising storm。 Van Droi was forced to shout at the top of his voice。 “Hurry it up。 I want all the
tanks chained together before it gets any worse out here。 Come on。 Only a few minutes left。 Work
faster。”
The Gunheads hauled heavy steel chains from the stowage bins on the rear of each tank and
worked hard to attach them to the towing pegs at the front and back of their machines。
“Twenty metres between each tank；” shouted van Droi。 He wished he had a vox…amp handy。 The
bead he wore in his right ear linked him to his tank commanders； but the crews didn’t wear such
advanced tech。 They took their orders through their tanks’ intercom systems。 There was no time for
van Droi to return to Foe…Breaker and dig out a vox…amp now； though。 The winds were really
picking up。 The men worked quickly despite their thirst and fatigue。 Some struggled through bouts
of coughing that doubled them over in pain and discomfort； but they fought through it to get the job
done。 It was just as well they did。 In the few minutes it took to link all the tanks together； the storm
had become incredibly fierce。 Visibility dropped another ten metres。 Then another。 Then another。
Van Droi could only just make out the red silhouette of the tanks to the front and rear of his own。
The wind was buffeting him so hard that it almost pitched him from his feet as he reached up to
climb back into his turret。
After wrestling his way up Foe…Breaker’s back； he dropped down into her basket； slamming and
locking the hatch above him。 Hitting the intercom； he said； “Are we all buttoned up； lads？”
“Tighter than a governor’s daughter； sir；” said Waller。 He had been van Droi’s loader for more
than ten years； a compact； ruddy…faced man； good at his work； but a truculent devil when he had a
bit of drink in him。
“Right then；” said van Droi。 “We wait for Stromm’s lot to finish； then roll forward nice and
slow。”
Seated out of eyesight behind his crew； he allowed himself a small shake of the head。 This is a
bit of bloody madness； he thought。 If it weren’t for the orks at our backs…
“Van Droi to Colonel Stromm；” he voxed。 “Can you hear me； sir？”
“Not too well； van Droi；” said Stromm； “but go ahead。” The clarity of the transmission was
terrible。 The dust…storm had brought with it a shocking drop in the quality of short…range comms。 If
it got much worse； van Droi thought； they might lose comms altogether。 That would ground them
here completely until the storm passed。
“My crates are linked and ready。 Awaiting your order to move out； sir。”
“Hold on for another minute； van Droi。 The last of my lot are getting hooked together now。
Can’t believe how bad it is out there。 Throne help those poor lads in the soft…tops。 I hope the extra
tarps will be enough to protect them。”
75
Van Droi grimaced。 He was worried too。 It hadn’t been possible to squeeze everyone from the
open…backed trucks and halftracks into sealed cabins and the troop compartments of the Chimeras；
but they had done their best。 As few men as possible were left to endure the storm in the less
protected vehicles。 They had been given as much extra cover as was available to protect them； but
Van Droi had no idea just how much worse the storm was likely to get。
“I’m sure they’ll be all right； sir；” he said； managing to sound far more positive than he felt。
“One moment； lieutenant。”
There was a pause and a flicker of vox…board lights。 Then the colonel returned。 “The last of my
machines has been linked up； van Droi。 Have your tanks lead us out。 Keep the speed to a steady ten
kilometres per hour； no more； no less。”
“Ten it is； sir。 Giving the order now。”
“Very good； Armour。 Stromm； out。”
“You all ready for this？” van Droi asked his crew。
The half…hearted grunts that came back to him over the intercom spoke volumes about how his
crew felt riding blind。 There was no hiding their anxiety。
Van Droi flicked over to the company command channel and said； “Company Commander to all
tanks。 Confirm readiness to deploy。”
“Spear Leader confirms；” came the static…riddled response from Sergeant Rhaimes。
Spear One’s confirmation followed； then； Spear Two’s。 So it went until all eight of van Droi’s
surviving tank commanders had called in。
“Keep your crates absolutely steady at ten per hour。 Stay on this heading。 I don’t want any
accidents。 Cold Deliverance has point。 Corporal Muller； lead us out。”
One by one； the tanks of 10th Company started to edge forward blindly； tow chains giving out
metallic groans as they went taut。
The rumble of Foe…Breaker’s engine deepened； and she lurched forward gently as her gears
caught； feeding power to the massive axle that turned her drive sprocket。 The heavy； cog…like wheel
turned； iron teeth pulling link after link towards it； driving the tank forward slowly and steadily。 The
tank directly in front of Foe…Breaker — Corporal Fuchs’ Rage Imperius — was practically invisible
now。 Van Droi checked the rear vision blocks and found that the tank behind — Corporal Kurtz’s
The Adamantine — was just as difficult to see。 The screech of grinding metal sounded over the
howling wind and the rumble of the engine as hooks took the strain against towing pegs。
“Keep her real steady； won’t you； Nails？” said van Droi。
“Sure thing； sir；” replied the grizzled old driver。 His voice was clear。 The tank’s intercom system
wasn’t affected by the storm in the same way the vox…link was。 “As steady as Waller’s hands after a
few bottles of the rough stuff。”
Van Droi frowned。 That wasn’t very steady at all。
Lenck’s men were far more worried than he was； and they weren’t beyond showing it。 As the New
Champion rolled forward； they grumbled and griped on the intercom； snapping at each other； letting
their nerves get the better of them。 Lenck tuned them out。
As the storm intensified； gusts battering against his tank； rocking her as if she weighed far less
than her sixty…three tonnes； he sat back in his command seat； idly playing with the cruelly serrated
knife he kept in his boot。 It was a non…regulation blade； officially forbidden； but it had saved his
neck a few times back in the reserves； particularly when bigger men came looking for him； burning
with anger； ready to pulp him for cheating them out of money or bedding their women。 Most lost the
will to fight after they’d been cut a few times。
Lenck rated himself with a blade。
He hadn’t needed to use his little equaliser since joining the 81st Armoured； but he was sure
there would come a time。 Sooner or later； someone would come looking for him with a mind to do
76
some damage。 He had a feeling it would be Sergeant Wulfe。 Most of the men in 10th Company were
younger than Lenck； recent reinforcements who looked up to him for one reason or another。 It was
something different for each； but Lenck could always find it and use it to his advantage。 For some； it
was his skill with women that they envied。 They wanted to share in the secret of his success； not
realising there was no secret； he was simply better than they were。 For others； it was his ability to
procure the things without which some men found Guard life unbearable； from extra smokes or
booze all the way up to restricted meds。 Before that damned drop…ship had ditched him on the red
sands； Lenck had enjoyed a nice little arrangement with a certain medicae officer whose sinful
appetites he had threatened to reveal to a member of the Ministorum。 The man would have faced
execution for sure。 Throne knew where the bloody clown was now。 Maybe he had made it down on
another ship。 Maybe he was dead。 No matter。 When Lenck got out of this mess — and he knew he
would； for if he believed in anything； it was that he had been born lucky — he would find another
source。 Everyone could be bent to his will one way or another。
That thought brought him to the curious matter of Victor Dunst； and he felt a rare flash of
irritation。 Dunst； whoever he was； seemed to be the reason that Sergeant Wulfe had it in for him。
Lenck wanted details； sure that the knowledge would give him the u