see you； sergeant。 I prayed you would make it back to the flock。 It seems that the Emperor was
listening。”
Wulfe had the sudden impression that Confessor Friedrich had been about to add “for a bloody
change” before he stopped himself。
“I think you might be right； confessor；” said Wulfe。 “It certainly seemed like a miracle when we
heard the voice of that Sentinel pilot。 I doubt even van Droi believed we would actually make it out
of the deep desert alive。”
The priest nodded。 “I heard about Siemens and Muller； Throne rest them。 I’ve already had their
crews listed for remembrance at the next honours service。”
Wulfe shuddered as he recalled Siemens’ limp body burning atop the turret； but he said； “They
died doing their duty； confessor。 I hear Golgotha hasn’t exactly been a sightseeing trip for the rest of
the army group。”
“Then you heard right。 The things I’ve seen… Sometimes I think the Guiding Light of all
Mankind is testing me； sergeant。”
“Maybe He’s testing all of us。”
A look of pain crossed the confessor’s face。 “Aye； only dead men are free of that。 I pulled ten
bodies out of a brewed up Chimera yesterday。 You couldn’t tell one man from the other。 Ten
shrivelled black mannequins。 Two of them fell apart in my hands as I was trying to lift them out。 For
them； at least； the test is over。”
Wulfe nodded； his face mirroring the priest’s sadness。
Confessor Friedrich raised a hand to Wulfe’s elbow and drew him away from Last Rites II。
“Let’s talk where others cannot hear； Oskar。 Just for a moment。 I would like to know of your
spiritual health。”
They stopped in the shadows at the back of an empty Thirty…Sixer； and Confessor Friedrich took
a quick look around to make sure they were alone。
“Tell me；” he said； “are you still troubled by your memories of Lugo’s Ditch？ I had hoped that
redeployment might give you a new perspective on what you saw there。 Perhaps your nightmares
have receded？”
Wulfe held the priest’s gaze。 “I haven’t been sleeping enough to judge； confessor。 We’ve been
on the move night and day。 I slept well enough last night； but I was exhausted。 I think perhaps the
worst of the dreams are behind me。 It may be that you’re right。 The mission might be crowding the
memories out a bit。”
“I would have your mind at ease； my friend； but forgetting your experience completely would be
a mistake。 We’ve already talked of the positive。 You’ve seen something that others wish desperately
to see。 You’ve had proof of that which lies beyond death。 Does that still give you no comfort？”
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“I’ve told you； confessor。 His eyes were so hollow。 He did not look like a man restored。 On the
journey here to Balkar； my crew confessed that they had guessed the truth。 If any weight has been
lifted from me； it’s that I no longer need to hide it from them。 But can you imagine what others
would say？”
“If they knew you had seen a ghost？”
“It sounds like bloody nonsense when you say it aloud。 I think I’d rather believe I was mad。”
“I don’t think you are； but believe that if it helps。 There are those who say even Yarrick is mad；
driven beyond obsession。 Many of the Imperium’s heroes would be judged mad by the standards of
normal men。 It’s no bad thing to be different；” he grinned。 “To a degree。”
“That’s some choice； confessor； mad or haunted。” Wulfe went silent for a moment as other
ghosts rose in his mind。 “If you had seen Siemens…”
The priest closed his eyes and bowed his head。 “It doesn’t get easier。”
“Sorry；” said Wulfe。 “You’ve seen more than your share of horrors。 I didn’t mean… I wish I had
your fortitude。 Why do you do it？ Clearing the tanks of bodies is a job for the support crews。 Why
do you continue to torture yourself？”
Confessor Friedrich gazed off into space。 “How could I let those boys face such horrors； Wulfe；
knowing that they’ll crew tanks themselves one day？ They shouldn’t have to see the likes of that。
They shouldn’t have to know how bad it gets before the end。 And neither should you。”
“The orks didn’t give me much choice。”
They both thought about that for a silent moment。
Changing tack suddenly； the priest said； “You heard that General deViers has arrived； yes？”
Wulfe shook his head。 “I didn’t know。 I thought the officers would have had us all lined up to
greet him。 He likes a big reception。”
“He does； but between them； the major generals decided that preparations for deployment took
priority。 If deViers wants his forces rolling out before sundown； he’ll have to do without the usual
pomp this time。”
“He flew in？”
The confessor nodded。 “Touched down just west of the outer wall about three hours ago。 He
arrived on a Valkyrie transport escorted by four Vulcan gunships。 It seems Commodore Galbraithe
was as good as his word regarding the close support he promised。”
“Five birds？” asked Wulfe。 “Not exactly a major contribution。”
“Better than four；” said the priest with a wink。 “Anyway； I expect you’ll be rolling out very
soon； Wulfe。 That’s why I came to see you。 May I bless you and your crew？”
“You’re not rolling out with us； confessor？”
“Not this time。 The regiment has many sick in the field hospital here。 You heard about Markus
Rhaimes； of course。 I’m staying to offer last rites to those who need it。 But I’m sure your expedition
will be over quickly。 You’ll find The Fortress of Arrogance and return。 I know you will。”
Wulfe wished he shared the priest’s confidence。 “I think my crew would appreciate a blessing；
confessor。 We need all the help we can get。”
“Excellent；” said the priest。 Together； he and Wulfe walked back towards Last Rites II。
Squatting in the shadow of a nearby Chimera； grinning from ear to ear； Lenck watched them go。
“Gotcha！” he muttered。
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Two hours after Confessor Friedrich had bid them farewell； the crew of Last Rites II were nearing
completion of their final checks。 Together； Siegler and Beans went over every single track link；
checking and oiling the heavy iron pins that held them together。 Metzger tightened the latches that
held the tow cables； entrenching tools； fire axe； bolt cutters and numerous other essentials in place
on the tank’s hull。
Wulfe； not content to supervise； checked each of the vision blocks and their spares for cracks
before turning his attention to the vox…caster。 He cycled through each of the listed channels that
Exolon would be using in the field until he was satisfied that he could tune into any of them at the
flip of a toggle。 Finishing this； he took off his headset and sat back in his command seat。
Damn； it’s hot； he thought。 But； once we’re under way； the wind should cool us a bit。
It was only now； with his hearing unhindered by the headset’s mufflers； that he heard raised
voices outside。
Recognising them at once； he leapt up from his seat and hauled himself through the top hatch。
From his cupola； he looked down to the left and saw Metzger and Siegler standing off against Lenck
and his crew。 Beans stood off to one side； shuffling anxiously。
“What the frak is going on here？” Wulfe shouted down at Lenck as he climbed from the cupola；
and then leapt from the track…guard to the ground。 “What the hell do you want； Lenck？”
“An apology for starters； sergeant；” said Lenck。 “My lads and I were just on our way back from
the supply depot when your brain…addled idiot of a loader walked right into us and spilled half our
coolant。” He gestured at two jerrycans lying on their side in the sand。
“Siegler？” said Wulfe。
“Groxshit； sarge；” replied the loader。 “They were walking by and started in on our tank。”
“That’s right；” said Metzger； eyes locked on Hobbs； who stood directly in front of him；
shoulders loose； ready to lunge forward。 “The bastards were at it。”
Wulfe had never seen Metzger like this before。 He looked unusually dangerous； as tall and rangy
as ever； but with teeth bared in a snarl； long arms ready to lash out。 He looked more like a soldier at
that moment than at any other time in the months Wulfe had known him。 This wasn’t the time or
place for him to prove his boxing skills； though。 Brawling would mean the lash if Crusher found out。
“Lenck；” said Wulfe in a growl； “get your mongrels away from here before something happens
that you’ll regret。”
The big one； Varnuss； stepped to Lenck’s side； rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck。
Wulfe glimpsed ganger tattoos under the collar of his tunic。 Was he just posturing； wondered Wulfe；
or was he really stupid enough to make trouble with a senior man？ Both possibilities seemed equally
credible at that moment。
Posturing or not； it was only when Lenck put out a hand and stopped Varnuss from advancing
that the big man seemed to reconsider。
“Come on； you lot；” Lenck told his crew in mock exasperation。 “Looks like we’d better go back
to the depot and get some more coolant。”
Muttering and cursing； the crew of the New Champion turned and fell in behind Lenck as he
stalked off。 After a few paces； however； Lenck stopped and turned。 He pointed at Siegler； though his
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eyes were locked on Wulfe’s as he said； “With respect； sergeant； you might want to keep your pet
moron on a leash in future。”
Wulfe felt something snap inside him。 He bolted straight at Lenck and grabbed him roughly by
the collar； hauling him up on his tiptoes。 Other hands immediately tried to free Lenck； tugging at
Wulfe’s wrists in vain； trying to break a grip that was like solid steel。
“What’re you going to do？” Lenck sneered； looking down his nose at Wulfe without a hint of
worry。 “You know the regs。”
Wulfe growled。 “I ought to rip your bloody tongue out； you piece of garbage。”
“But you know you’d pay for it；” said Lenck。
“That’s where you’re wrong； Lenck。 It doesn’t go both ways。 I could beat you to within an inch
of your life； and no commissar could touch me for it。”
Lenck’s eyes narrowed。 His voice became a hiss。 “I wasn’t talking about commissars。”
There was a sudden shout from atop Last Rites II。 It was Beans。
“Good morning； commissar！ How are you？”
Wulfe turned and saw a dark figure emerge from between two tanks about a hundred metres
away。 His grip automatically loosened on Lenck’s collar and the younger man wrenched himself
away。
When Wulfe turned around to face Lenck again； the corporal was smiling sardonically。
“I’m sure we’ll have a chance to pick this up again sometime； sergeant；” he said。 “In the
meantime； my crew has work to do。 Excuse us。”
Wulfe watched them go； fists clenched white at his sides。 How far would I have gone？ he asked
himself。 Would I have killed him？ Could I have stopped myself？ He remembered the panic he had
felt as Victor Dunst’s gang had restrained him all those years ago on Cadia。 He winced as he
recalled the pain of Dunst’s knife being pushed into his torso。 He heard the laughter of the gangers；
laughter that turned to curses when they heard the siren of the Civitas patrol car。
Lenck’s crew cast filthy looks back at him over their shoulders as they went； all of them but
Lenck。
He’s not Dunst； Wulfe told himself。 For Throne’s sake； he’s not Dunst。
When Lenck was about twenty…five metres away； he turned back towards Wulfe