might not be long until New Champion was on her back like that。 He definitely wasn’t ready to die。
Most of the dolts around him thought it was an honour to die for a so…called God…Emperor they had
never even seen； or to die for a planet that had sacrificed them to a life of war in that same。
Emperor’s name。 Not Lenck。 He still had scores to settle。 He enjoyed being Voeder Lenck far too
much to give it up on some foolish notion of honour and duty。
It wasn’t his destiny to die here。 He knew he would make it through。
Part of him hoped Wulfe would make it； too。
Wulfe watched two massive； ugly； scar…faced orks climb up onto the outside of his turret and start
hacking at it with their axes。 Futile； of course； but he knew how lucky he was that neither of them
appeared to be carrying explosives or a burner。 All he could do was tell Metzger to keep the old girl
moving and pray they wouldn’t get tagged with something nasty。
Beans was firing back at the squiggoth； but it was hard to aim with all the jouncing around。 With
armour…piercing rounds； he had managed to wound the beast twice； hitting it both times in the thick
muscles of its front right leg。
Now a third sound punched through its skin and buried deep； causing the creature to scream and
rear up on its hind legs； towering like a Titan over the battlefield。 Even the orks turned and gaped。
It was at that very moment； with the monster’s belly exposed to the tanks below； that a long
yellow muzzle flame erupted from the end of Foe…Breaker’s Vanquisher cannon。 The special highvelocity
armour…piercing shell lanced straight into the monster’s heart。
With a scream that hurt Wulfe’s ears even through his baffles； the squiggoth collapsed sideways；
tumbling heavily to the ground； crushing hundreds of orks and throwing out a great ring…shaped
cloud of dust。 The impact shook the entire crater； knocking foot soldiers on both sides from their
feet。
Wulfe’s tank was filled with cheering and whooping。 The vox erupted with similar noises。
“Hell of a shot； sir！” Wulfe voxed。 “Give old Bullseye a slap on the back from me。”
The squiggoth was not dead yet。 Few things smaller than a Titan could have killed such a beast
outright； certainly not a Vanquisher tank。 As the dust cleared； Wulfe could see the slow rise and fall
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of its belly。 It was still breathing； but it was desperately weakened and pinned to the ground by the
weight of the massive howdah on its back。
It wouldn’t be getting back to its feet。 Ever。 Its death would be long and slow。
It was too much for the orks。
Bad enough that the squiggoth had rampaged through their ranks； leaving so many of them as
little more than red smears on the battlefield； now； they saw the Cadian tanks put it out of the fight；
and their morale shattered like glass。 Those at the rear broke ranks first； fleeing back towards the
settlement； dropping heavy guns and blades on the blood…soaked sand。
The Cadian officers recognised this for exactly what it was： the shift that signalled victory。 They
rallied their troops； pressed their advantage； and surged forward。 Those orks that did not flee
suddenly found themselves facing a resurgent foe。 Without the overwhelming numbers at their back；
they were lost。 Their charred bodies fell to the sand； and the Cadians charged over them。
General deViers felt that the Emperor must surely be watching him at that moment。 His destiny
had not abandoned him。 His legacy； his immortality； was within reach。
“Forward； Cadians；” he voxed； “in the name of the Emperor。 This day is ours！”
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CHAPTER THIRTY…TWO
The Cadian artillery moved up to join the rest of the expedition force； and began pounding the ork
settlement to rusting rubble。 This was something for which the orks no longer had an answer。
Thousands died taking shelter in their pathetic corrugated huts and barracks。 Thousands more were
crushed and killed when the Basilisks turned their muzzles towards the ork foundries and levelled
them。 It was only when General deViers received an emergency vox…call from Magos Sennesdiar
that the shelling abruptly stopped。
“What the devil are you doing； sir？” asked Major General Rennkamp on the vox。 “We’ve got
them right where we want them。 Keep shelling。”
“Damn it； no！” snapped deViers。 “I want our tanks and Chimeras to move in。 Each vehicle is to
have infantry support。 I want them to sweep each street； each building； and converge on the far side。
That’s how we’re going to do this。”
“With respect； sir；” voxed Major General Killian； “that’s bloody nonsense。 The orks will have
retreated to their fallback positions。 They’ll be dug…in。 You’re sending our boys straight into a death
trap。 I agree with Aaron。 We have to pound them to nothing with the Basilisks and then send the
infantry in to mop up。 Anything else is just—”
“Enough！” snapped deViers。 “I’ve already executed one officer today。 Will I have to repeat that
action？ I will not risk destroying The Fortress of Arrogance。 We go in with tanks and troops。 We’ve
already beaten them； by Throne。 They won’t put up much more of a fight。 I want our tanks up front；
is that clear？ Bergen？”
“Clear； sir；” voxed Bergen。 There was no mistaking the tone of exhausted resignation in his
voice。 His armour had just won a great victory。 The Basilisks could have made it complete。
However； if the damned tech…priests weren’t lying for once； the most famous and sacred Baneblade
battle tank in the entire Imperium was somewhere up ahead。 It might be buried under a frak…load of
rusting junk； but the general clearly believed it was there； and not one man present would be leaving
Golgotha until it was retrieved。
From a pre…expedition total of over one hundred； only twenty…six tanks remained in the ranks of the
81st Armoured Regiment。 They moved slowly and deliberately through the twisting； junk…filled
streets of the ork camp； halting frequently to blast apart ramshackle towers and barracks buildings
from which ork rockets and stubber…fire stabbed out。 Vox…chatter was terse； betraying the Cadians’
anxiety。 No one liked moving through the narrow lanes。 The shaky metal buildings on either side
looked ready to topple at any second。 Their construction was almost laughable。 Beams and girders
stuck out at every angle。 Most of the corrugated metal walls looked set to tear away on the next
wind。 It was a wonder any of them stood at all。
Again and again； the Cadians found themselves boxed in。 Huge armoured orks； some of them
almost three metres tall； poured out from shadowed corners in a frenzy； screaming oaths in their foul
xenos tongue； bloodstained blades and hammers held high above their heads。 The tallest were so
dark…skinned they were almost black； and they fought with ferocity of a different magnitude
altogether。 It took twice as much fire to put them down as it did to slay the other members of the
squads they led。
If not for the tanks and their crews providing hard cover and fire support to the footsloggers； any
progress at all through the settlement would have been impossible。 There were too many damned
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bottlenecks。 The Cadian armour made all the difference； but it wasn’t long before van Droi started
hearing voxed reports of tanks being lost。
The fourth such loss was Steelhearted II。
Captain Immrich had assigned Viess and his crate as armour support to a company of Colonel
Pruscht’s 116th Lasgunners。 They were purging an avenue half a kilometre north of van Droi’s
position when rockets had shredded the tank’s left tread； rooting her to the spot。 The infantry had
immediately moved forward to return fire； only to be cut down by ork heavy weapon teams perched
on the nearby roofs。 Then the ork foot soldiers had poured in； dragging Viess and his crew out of
their hatches and hacking them to pieces on the street。
A few of the lasgunners had managed to break away from the fighting and report what had
happened。 The commissars would probably execute them later on charges of cowardice。
The Gunheads were down to three tanks。 Van Droi could hardly believe it。 Soul…sapping misery
hovered over him； threatening to descend and engulf him at any second； but he fought hard to keep
it at bay。 Other men were depending on him； now； a platoon of Colonel Stromm’s Kasrkin troopers。
They followed just behind his crate； hellgun stocks raised to their armoured shoulders。
He couldn’t afford to lose focus。
Van Droi looked out from his cupola； fists tight around the grips of his pintle…mounted heavy
bolter。 His Vanquisher had already been stung twice — once on the glacis and once on the mantlet
— by rockets fired from blind corners。 She had soaked up both hits； but how much more could she
take？ Her hide was scarred silver by all the stubber…fire she had drawn； and stained black where the
rockets had struck。
Thinking that his remaining Gunheads deserved to know of the company’s latest loss； he hit the
vox…link button on his headset and said； “This is 10th Company Command。 Listen up； Gunheads。
I’ve just heard from Colonel Pruscht that Steelhearted II is dead。 Viess and his crew are gone。 So；
keep your damned eyes open； both of you。 If Yarrick’s tank is here； this will all be over soon。 You
have to keep it tight until then。”
Two brief acknowledgements came back to him。 One from Wulfe； one from Lenck。 Van Droi
knew they utterly detested each other。 They were just about as different as two men could be； but
they were both survivors。 They had that much in common。
What was it about the character of each man； he wondered； that had got him this far when so
many others had fallen along the way？ Was it Lenck’s self…serving ruthlessness？ Wulfe’s rigid
honour code？ Or his almost paternal concern for the lives of his crew？
If they both survived this； maybe van Droi could find a way to bridge the gap between them。
Troopers who disliked each other at first were often bonded by the trials they shared。 He had seen it
before。
Then again； he thought； maybe not。
Up ahead； he noticed that the avenue was quickly widening。 The ork structures were bigger and
more widely spaced apart。 From some of the roofs； great crooked armatures reached up towards the
sky。 They looked like construction cranes。 Their heavy steel cables swung in the wind。
“Take it slow； Nails；” van Droi told his driver over the intercom。 “It looks like we’re
approaching the eastern edge of the settlement。 I can’t believe we’ve seen everything the orks have
left。”
Nails shifted down a gear； prompting a question from the Kasrkin lieutenant at the rear。
“Trouble up ahead？” he voxed。
“Can’t be sure；” replied van Droi。 “Come up and take a look。”
The Kasrkin officer； a rough…spoken man by the name of Gradz； clambered up the back of Foe…
Breaker and stopped close to van Droi。 Despite their proximity； they spoke over the vox。 The noise
of the engine was too loud for anything else。
“What do you think？” asked van Droi。
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The Kasrkin took a moment to answer。 “I think we’ve just found our warboss； armour。 That
hangar dead ahead is the biggest structure I’ve seen so far。 Twice the size of those ones to the side。
I’ll bet you ten bottles of joi the bastard is in there right now。 The minute our lads move into that
open square； th