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barely recognisable as Leman Russ tanks； sat pouring out smoke while other tanks surged past them
to continue the push。
The orks had found their range； and Colonel Vinnemann ordered all companies to fan out。
Bunching together； with the full weight of the ork defences raining down on them； was suicide。
There was still some way to go before the Cadians entered effective firing range。 Even in
Golgotha’s gravity； a standard Leman Russ battle cannon could take out targets at a distance of over
two kilometres but the ork artillery was pounding them from twice that。 Closing the gap at speed
was paramount。
Like her sister tanks； Last Rites II roared over the low dunes with all her hatches closed。 Wulfe
sat in the rear of the turret basket； peering through the vision blocks that ringed the rim of his
cupola； shouting instructions to his crew。 “That’s it； Metzger。 Keep her speed up。”
Looking left along the Cadian line； he saw van Droi’s Foe…Breaker to his immediate right。
Beyond her； scores of other tanks raced forwards。 It was quite a sight。 Suddenly； bright light stabbed
at his eyes and he grunted in pain。 When he opened them again； he was glad to see van Droi’s tank
still at his side。 He turned to look behind and saw a burning black wreck。 Someone else had been hit。
Thick black smoke poured outwards and upwards。
That could have been us； thought Wulfe。
Metzger was squeezing every bit of speed he could from the old girl； pushing her forward at full
tilt； her engine roaring like a mad carnotaur； her suspension bouncing and juddering； tossing the men
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in the turret basket around like dolls。 There were more flashes of light； more bone…shaking booms。
Wulfe saw two more wrecks drop from the Cadian line； fountains of dirt and rock exploding on all
sides as the greenskins continued to rain shells on the rapidly advancing Imperial force。 Van Droi’s
Vanquisher had pulled ahead。 Wulfe saw her swerve violently to one side； just missing a huge pillar
of fire and dust that geysered upwards into the air。 Van Droi’s driver； Nalzigg； really was good；
thought Wulfe。 Foe…Breaker had escaped destruction by a hair’s breadth。 Metzger must have seen it
too。 A second later； he swerved to avoid ditching Last Rites II into the crater caused by the
explosion。
Beans banged his head on the metal housing of his gun scope。 “Damn it！”
“Watch yourself；” shouted Wulfe over the cacophony of battle。 “Keep your eyes pressed to the
scope’s padding。”
Even over the intercom； it was difficult to hear each other。 The artillery fire； explosions and
engine noise were deafening。
“I want this crate ready to fire the moment we make range；” said Wulfe。 “High explosives。
We’ve got to take out those wall…guns so the infantry don’t get minced following us in。”
Up ahead and to the left； some of the tanks from the other companies had pressed forward into
firing range； and their guns began to answer the orks’。 The tanks were travelling too fast to fire with
any real accuracy； but Wulfe saw bright blossoms of fire burst into life as shells hit the wall。 It
didn’t look like they were very effective。 The orks’ answering barrage； however； managed to
destroy a number of tanks from the 5th and 8th Companies。
“By the frakking Eye！” spat Wulfe。 “How can we expect to hit anything in a full sprint？ Who
conceived this bloody plan？”
Metzger spoke over the intercom。 “We just made range！”
“Beans；” said Wulfe； “line her up on one of those wall…guns。 The bigger the better。”
“Got one；” said Beans。 “Halfway up the wall on our two o’clock。 How about it？ The gun…port to
the upper left of the central gate； sarge？”
Wulfe scanned the wall and found it。 It was one of the biggest barrels visible。 A good target。 The
muzzle was so damned wide a man could have sat comfortably inside it。
“Nice；” said Wulfe。 “Siegler； high…explosive。 Beans； zero in。 It’ll be a tough shot。 We’ll have to
fire on the move。”
“I can do it； sarge；” said Beans。
Siegler slammed a shell into the battle cannon’s breech； yanked the locking lever and yelled；
“She’s lit！”
“Metzger；” said Wulfe； “drop her down into third but； for Throne’s sake； keep us moving。
Steady as you can。”
“Aye； sir；” said Metzger。
Last Rites II slowed abruptly； and the tanks on either side began to pull further away from her。
Wulfe barely noticed。 His eyes were locked to the target。 When he felt that Metzger had her
steady in third； he called； “Fire！”
“Brace；” shouted Beans； and he stamped on the firing pedal with his right foot。 Last Rites II
rocked backwards with the blast。 Three plumes of fire burst from her cannon； one from the mouth of
the barrel and one from each of the apertures in either side of the muzzle brake。
The turret basket filled with the coppery stink of spent fyceline propellant。 Wulfe didn’t give it a
thought。 He was watching the ork wall…cannon。 A fraction of a second after Last Rites II spat her
shell； a yellow ball of fire burst into existence just below the wall…cannon’s firing port。 Pieces of
burning metal showered the sand at the foot of the wall。 Black smoke moved on the breeze。 When it
cleared； Wulfe saw…
Frak！
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“It’s a miss；” he reported to the crew。 “Metzger！ Floor it！ Take her back up to full speed。 We
have to keep moving。”
He took his eyes away from the vision blocks for a second and saw Beans hammering a fist onto
his thigh。
“Damn it！” shouted the youngster。 “By the blasted Eye。”
Wulfe leaned forward and gripped his shoulder。 “Beat yourself up later； son。 Right now； I want
another shot lined up。 Siegler？ High…ex。 Now！”
The loader didn’t waste any time confirming。 He rammed another shell home； yanked the
locking lever and shouted； “Lit； sarge！”
Come on； Beans； thought Wulfe。 Concentrate； boy。
“Metzger；” said Wulfe； “drop to third。”
“You’ve got it； sarge；” said the driver。
“Adjust your shot； Beans；” Wulfe told the gunner。 “Up a little。 A little more。 We’re closer now。
You ready？”
“I have the shot；” said Beans。
“Take it！” said Wulfe。
There was a deep boom and a rush of pungent smoke。 Last Rites II reared up on her treads with
the power of the recoil； and then hit the sand again with a rough bounce。 The main gun’s breech slid
back and dumped the spent shell casing in the brass catcher on the floor。
Wulfe held on tight； eyes scanning the wall through his vision blocks。 The massive gun…port
Beans had been aiming for erupted in bright red flame and black smoke。
Debris exploded outwards。 Whooping and cheering filled the compartment。
“That’s more like it！” shouted Wulfe。 “Metzger； back up to fifth； now！”
The engine roared。 The base of the wall was no more than a kilometre away。 The other
companies were already slowing to blast every last gun…port they could see。 Fire and smoke poured
from the wall’s gun…ports and toolishers from the 8th and
9th Companies were lobbing shells up onto the parapets； too； desperate to take out the artillery
pieces before they could shred the infantry vehicles that would follow in the wake of the tanks。
Black smoke billowed up into the sky from all directions。 Angry fires blazed all around。
From the corner of his eye； Wulfe saw a light blinking on his vox…board。 He hit the toggle。 It
was van Droi。
“Company leader to all tanks。 We’ve been ordered to peel right。 It doesn’t look like the orks are
coming out of their own accord after all。 Colonel Vinnemann is about to kick their door in。”
“Metzger；” said Wulfe； “take us right； parallel with the wall。 Angel of the Apocalypse is moving
up。”
Vinnemann’s massive Shadowsword had so far enjoyed the cover of the dust clouds kicked up by
the other machines as it rolled forward； moving into position to attack point alpha。
One shot； thought Vinnemann。 We’ll have one shot at this。 We absolutely must force a breach。
Over the vox； he head Major General Bergen say； “Are you in position； colonel？”
“A few more seconds； sir；” Vinnemann replied。 Then his driver reported over the intercom that
they had position。 The gunner confirmed line…of…sight。 Vinnemann voxed back to Bergen。 “In
position now； sir。 Readying to fire。”
“We’re counting on you； Kochatkis；” said Bergen。
Vinnemann heard Bergen notify all units on the divisional command channel； “Division to all
armour； be advised。 Angel of the Apocalypse is about to fire。 I repeat； Angel is about to fire。”
On the tank’s intercom； Vinnemann told Schwartz； his engineer； “Switch all power to main gun。
Tell me when she’s charged。”
“Yes； sir。”
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“Vamburg；” said Vinnemann； addressing his gunner。 “Full blast； full duration。 Let’s turn that
gate to vapour。”
“No worries； sir。 Ready to light it up。”
“Capacitors full； sir！” reported Schwartz。
“Right； Vamburg；” said Vinnemann。 “You heard him。 Do it！”
“Brace for firing！” shouted the gunner。
A hum filled the air inside the tank； like thousands of voices joined in a single tone that rose
until it drowned out all else。 A charge passed through Vinnemann’s twisted body as he felt the space
around him vibrate。 The pain he usually felt melted away for a moment as the tone rose higher and
higher。 Then； suddenly； the whole bulk of the Shadowsword shook as