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rock and a hard place。”
“By the blasted Eye of Terror！” raged deViers。 “Why now？ We’ve just gained the breach。”
“If I might suggest something； sir；” said Major General Killian。
“Out with it； Klotus；” snapped deViers。
“Well； sir。 It seems to me that the only place we can hope to fight them and win would be Red
Gorge。 We’d be cutting it fine in terms of the time left to us； but； if we could effect a retreat to the
canyon just before the second ork force arrives； we could fight them on a much smaller single
front。”
Rennkamp nodded。 “Straight out of the Tactica。 Engage a superior force at a bottleneck。 It
would give us more control。”
DeViers eyes were so wide and bug…like with anger that Bergen thought they might pop out of
his head。 “Retreat to the canyon？ And turn this whole thing into a protracted fight？ I suppose you
think we should just let the orks patch their wall up； too； so we can waste time and resources
attacking it all over again？ You bloody clods！”
Killian and Rennkamp each took a step backwards。 “You can’t mean to fight it out on open land；
sir；” said Killian。 “It’ll be a bloody whitewash。 A massacre。”
“I’m afraid I agree with them on that count； sir；” said Bergen。 “Our expedition will end here if
we engage in a stand up fight。 You can forget your place in the history books if that happens。”
The last sentence seemed to surprise deViers。 He looked like he had been slapped。 He turned on
Bergen； hissing； “What would you have me do； Gerard？ Call a general retreat？ Should we run back
to Balkar with our tails between our legs？ No holy tank？ No glory of any kind？ I’ll die before I let
that happen。 Nothing will get in the way of my success here。 Do you understand？ Do you all get it？”
Bergen thought he understood only too well。 Whatever happened； it was deViers’ obsession with
glory that would decide their fate。 For a long moment； no one said anything。 It was a metallic voice
from the entrance to the tent that broke the spell of silence。 Tech…Magos Sennesdiar stood there； his
huge； angular bulk a dark silhouette。 Just beyond him； standing outside in the daylight； Tech…Adepts
Armadron and Xephous waited patiently。
“There will be no retreat；” Sennesdiar boomed at them in Gothic。 “There will be no going back
to Balkan。”
Bergen turned。
“With respect； magos；” he said。 “That decision rests with the general。”
Sennesdiar stooped a little so that he could fully enter the tent。 Then he moved towards them；
stopping a few metres away； dominating them with his size； causing them all to look up at him。
“I did not mean to suggest otherwise； gentlemen。 But some moments ago； Adept Armadron
received a land…line transmission from Balkar。 Our forward base is under assault。 The orks have
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managed to breach Balkar’s walls。 The garrison commander does not expert his forces to last
another hour。”
“They what？” gasped deViers。 “Balkar is under siege？”
“As are our bases at Hadron； Karavassa and Tyrellis； if word from Balkar is to be believed。
Great numbers of orks have assaulted our outposts from the north and south。 It is clear that the orks
have found a way to communicate effectively over long range and are coordinating their attacks。”
DeViers looked ready to fall down。 For all his rejuvenat treatments； he suddenly seemed every
bit the ninety…one…year…old man he was。 “Coordinated attacks？” he muttered。 “By orks？”
“I think our current dilemma confirms the possibility quite solidly；” said Killian。 “The orks on
the wall called in fighter…bombers； after all。”
“Yes；” said Sennesdiar。 “The attacks are most certainly coordinated。 The question I wish to have
answered； however； is what the good general intends to do next。”
“We should go to Balkar’s aid at once；” said Rennkamp。 “How can we even consider going on
with our supply lines interrupted？”
Bergen shook his head。 “By the time we get back to Balkar； it’ll be too late to make a difference
anyway。”
Killian agreed。 “There’ll be no one left； not if the outpost walls have already been compromised。
Damn it all。 All those medicae personnel； the sick and wounded…”
Bergen scowled。 He knew good men back there； men who had been too sick to go on； and
women； too。 He didn’t want to think about all those gentle medicae nurses left to face the savagery
of the orks without hope of salvation。
“There will be no retreat；” said General deViers icily。 “Understand that now。”
“We of the Adeptus Mechanicus；” said Sennesdiar； “wish to recommend that this expeditionary
force continues to push east。 The Fortress of Arrogance has never been closer。 The general’s
glorious quest is still well within acceptable feasibility parameters。”
“You’ve got to be joking；” said Rennkamp。 “General； please。 I think Klotus is right。 If we can’t
go back to Balkar； at the very least we need to fall back to Red Gorge and dig in there。 Fight the
orks on our own terms。”
Killian nodded emphatically。 He looked at the magos。 “Once we’ve secured the gorge； we could
send up one of the orbital beacons to call for evacuation。”
“Absolutely not；” raged General deViers。 “Magos； the beacons must only be used if and when
we secure The Fortress of Arrogance。 Is that clear？”
Bergen studied the general’s face； thinking how disappointed he was that the man he had once
looked up to had become so self…serving and obsessive。 Despite all that； however； he felt that the
general was right。 To get bogged down in a long…term engagement at Red Gorge would do them no
good。
“Neither I nor my adepts have any intention of utilising the beacons until the moment is right；
general。 You may be assured of that。 You do not intend to leave without your prize。 So； too； it is
with us。 No one will be lifted from Golgotha until our objective is met。”
Bergen read between the lines。 He heard the unspoken words。 At no time had the magos said
that his objectives were the same as the general’s； but whatever the tech…priests wanted； it suited
them to support deViers。 He saw that fact give strength to the general now。 The old man stood taller；
the years falling from him once again。
“Every last damned one of you；” deViers said。 “When you get back to your vehicles； I want you
to tell our forward elements to hold that breach at all costs。 And get every other man and machine
under my command through it before the orks get here from the south。 That means the fuel trucks；
the water trucks； food； supplies； munitions； every last damn bit of it。 I want everything we have；
everything we’ll need； through that breach and heading east towards The Fortress of Arrogance
before the ork reinforcements are on us。 Is that understood？”
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Rennkamp mumbled something incoherent。
“I said is that understood？” hissed deViers。
“Understood； sir；” said the three major generals。
Tech…Magos Sennesdiar didn’t wait to be dismissed。 He turned and left the tent； saying nothing
more。
“You’re mad； sir；” said Rennkamp。 “You do realise that？”
DeViers looked at him and grinned。 “Mad； Aaron？ Or inspired？”
It’s a thin line between the two； thought Bergen。 He felt miserable。 He had known for a long
time that deViers would get them all killed for his own sake： Balkar lost； supply lines cut； every
major outpost they had won under siege by the greenskins。 It was worse even than he had imagined
it would be； but still The Fortress of Arrogance pulled the general on relentlessly； and with him； the
men and machines of the 18th Army Group。
“You’ll see that I’m right； gentlemen；” said deViers。 “It’s odds like these that make legends of
men。 We can still find Yarrick’s tank。 It awaits us not far from here。 And one day； all of the
Imperium will know our story。”
No they won’t； thought Bergen。 Because none of us will survive this to tell it。
DeViers dismissed them； and； after a salute that lacked any sincerity whatsoever； Bergen
returned to his Chimera。 The men of his division were still out there； fighting for their lives； fighting
to hold the breach in the ork wall so that the infantry could keep pouring through； helping to secure
more and more ground on the other side。
If he and the other divisional commanders could just get everyone through before the orks from
the south moved into range； then maybe； just maybe； they could run east。 With luck； they might stay
ahead of the orks for a while。 They might even reach the supposed coordinates of Yarrick’s tank。
Bergen hoped he survived that long。 He hoped the tank was there； despite his doubts。 He wanted
to know that the dead had fallen for something greater than an old man’s self…importance。
In the back of Pride of Caedus； he hit a toggle on his vox…caster and opened a link to Colonel
Vinnemann。
“Armour； this is Division。”
No answer。 Bergen felt his skin crawl。
“Armour Command；” he voxed； “this is Divisional Command。 Respond； please。”
Nothing but static。
“Damn it； Vinnemann； respond。 That’s an order； you hear？”
Words tumbled over and over in his mind； like a mantra： don’t let it be； don’t let it be。
Perhaps there was just something wrong with the Angel’s vox。
Emperor； let it be that； he pleaded。
He switched channels； contacting Colonel Marrenburg； who was