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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。”
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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 would have thought so； sir；” answered the adjutant。 “Orks have been raiding the nearby
systems unchecked for years。 Salvage ships； mostly。 The Navy can’t do much to protect those that
break the spacing restrictions。 High risk； high reward and all that。”
“I’m glad my adjutant is so well informed；” said Bergen。
“Sorry； sir；” stuttered Katz。 “I didn’t mean to sound—”
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“Actually； Jarryl； I was being sincere。 You know I value your observations。 I just hadn’t thought
to see something like this。”
“I imagine the poor souls were brought here from Hadron； sir。 It was the only ork spaceport in
the immediate area before the Navy cleansed it。 We know ork clans sometimes trade with each
other。 These poor souls might have been traded for fuel or ammunition。”
“May the saints guide them on；” said Bergen。 He pressed his hands to his chest in the sign of the
aquila； and Katz immediately followed suit。 Together； heads bowed； they offered a prayer for the
dead。 When they were done； Bergen said； “We’ll find more of them out there； won’t we？”
Katz looked grim。 “I expect so； sir； but not alive。 I imagine the other divisions will find some
when they take Tyrellis and Balkar； but the orks will kill them before they can be saved。” He
gestured miserably at the pile of bodies in front of him。 “There’s nothing we could have done； of
course。”
Bergen saw the truth of that； but it didn’t make him feel any better。 These people’s lives had
been stolen from them by dirty xenos scum。 Their spirits； on the other hand； still belonged to the
Emperor。
“Make sure the confessors are told of this； Jarryl。 I’d like the souls of these men and women to
be commended to the Emperor’s side as soon as possible。 I know the priests are busy with our own
dead right now； but these bodies will have to be burned。 I don’t want the outpost crawling with
disease now that we’ve taken it back。 Understood？”
“Understood； sir；” said Katz。 “With your permission； I’ll be about it； now。”
“Good man；” said Bergen。 He listened to his adjutant’s footsteps fade behind him。
Above Karavassa； the sky was dimming with the onset of afternoon。 The brown…bellied clouds
looked almost low enough to touch。 They flickered with sheet lightning。 Booming claps of dry
thunder shook the air。
A crackle of sound in Bergen’s right ear announced a short…range vox…transmission just a
fraction of a second before Colonel Graves’ voice said； “Graves to Division Command。 Are you
there； sir？”
Bergen tapped a finger on the transmit stud of his vox…bead and replied； “Bergen； here。 Go
ahead； Darrik。”
“One of my squads just reported the discovery of primary and secondary ork munitions dumps；
sir； plus a significant fuel reserve by the south…east corner。 Looks like they didn’t get around to
scuttling it。 Also； I’ve set up sentry patrols on the walls； as ordered。 No room up there for the
Tarantulas； I’m afraid； unless we extend the parapets ourselves。 One more thing； sir。 Captain
Immrich is requesting permission to refuel his tanks from the greenskin cache。”
“Immrich？” ask