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Borscz wrenched a third mutant from its victim； while Grayle attempted a similar manoeuvre
with the fourth； but found that it was stronger than he was。 Nevertheless； he kept it occupied long
enough for Blonsky to stand and to thrust his bayonet into the struggling creature’s guts。
And then the fight was over； there were no more mutants standing； and Palinev returned； wiping
his blade with a cloth； to report that the one he had chased was also dead。 The Ice Warriors were left
in a self…made clearing； but the ice trees that Barreski’s flamer had melted were already beginning to
grow again。 Pozhar leapt as a new shoot sprouted with impossible speed beneath him； almost
impaling his foot。
Before they moved on； Steele counted the bodies to confirm that all the mutants he had seen
were accounted for。 Then he took another second to rerun that calculation； four more times； to be
sure。
It had become second nature for him to do this； and he did it for a good reason。 He did it because
he could not trust his own mind。
Some things； he remembered too well。
He remembered every detail of his time in the hospital； everything they had done to him there。
The medics had rebuilt one side of Steele’s head； inserted plates into his skull； and grafted foreign
41
objects onto his brain。 They had replaced the shattered bones in his right shoulder and upper arm
with plasteel； the muscles with hydraulic systems。
He remembered their assurances that the pain would be worthwhile； that they were doing the
best they could for him。 He hadn’t believed them。 He had thought it more likely that the medics
were just pushing； testing； seeing how far they could go。
Steele could remember all that； but he couldn’t remember what had landed him in that Emperorforsaken
place to begin with。 He had no memory of Karnak； the world to which his service records
told him he had been posted for more than two years。 He did not know who his comrades had been
on that world； in that campaign； which of the Imperium’s many enemies they had been fighting； or
what his orders had been on that fateful day。
He had no idea what had caused the explosion that had gone off in his face。
He couldn’t remember his father’s eyes； nor the touch of the girlfriend he had left behind on
Valhalla when his draft papers had arrived。
Sometimes； in the weeks that had followed his discharge； Steele had wished that the medics had
just left him to die。
He was aware that people saan； a deep thinker。 As a cold man。 Some were
jealous of his augmetics； of the feats they enabled him to achieve。 Those people didn’t know the real
Colonel Stanislev Steele。 They didn’t know the abiding frustration that burnt at the core of his being。
He could hear the flapping of a moth’s wings from forty paces now； detect its body heat from a
hundred。 He could perform complex calculations at lightning speed — or rather； a small part of his
brain to which he felt little connection could perform them and offer up the results to him。 He had
near…perfect recall； and could store tactical maps and troop movements in that same small alien
corner of his head。
Steele had heard it said that he could count the snowflakes in a storm； although he had never
been quite bored enough to try。
And of course he had the strength of three men in his right arm — enough； he had been told； to
slice through two armoured heretics with one swing of his power sword。
It must have sounded amazing； in theory； and Steele’s new…found abilities had certainly helped
him to rise through the ranks。 But； as Trooper Borscz would no doubt have reminded him； Imperial
technology wasn’t always reliable — and far less so in conditions like these； on ice worlds such as
Valhalla and the world that Cressida had become。 Steele’s eye； his acoustic enhancers； the olfactory
sensors in his nose； even his right shoulder； they were all prone to intermittent failures。 They could
let him down at any moment。
And so； nine years after he had been reborn； he was still trying to work out what the medics
hadn’t been able to tell him。 He still didn’t know which of his thoughts were entirely his own； and
which had been influenced by the augmetics that had oh…so…subtly insinuated themselves into his
consciousness。 He had to second…guess his every instinct； in case it was based on flawed
information。
He couldn’t tell where the real Stanislev Steele ended and the augmetics began。
They were nearing the edge of the ice forest； at last。
Steele knew this because his augmetics had calculated that the mean distance between the ice
trees was a little greater than it had been a few minutes ago。 He quickened his pace； knowing that
his squad would fall into step beside him without being ordered to do so。 There had been no signs
that anyone was on their tail； but still he couldn’t dismiss that possibility。
At last they emerged into the open； and Steele could see that the others were as happy about it as
he was。 Borscz let out a deep groan of relief； and took the opportunity to stretch his arms and legs
and work out the cricks in his neck。
42
A great； snow…blanketed field stretched ahead of them — and in the distance Steele could see the
spires and towers of Iota Hive。 They had made good time； all things considered。 The crash site was
only a few more kilometres away； and the going looked set to be a lot easier from now on。 The open
terrain would bring its own problems； however。 The Ice Warriors’ bottle…green greatcoats would
stand out like beacons to anyone who overlooked the field from any number of surrounding hills。
And they would leave tracks in the grey snow； but there was no way around that。
Fortunately； the sky was beginning to darken。 Steele considered waiting for a while； until the
night had drawn in completely； but he concluded that the risks of so doing outweighed the
advantages。 His internal chrono was ticking away； impossible to ignore。 It was counting down the
seconds to the end of this world； making him acutely aware of the passing of each one。
It was only when Gavotski had a quiet word in his ear that he realised how hard he had been
pushing his squad； how exhausting the ice forest had been for them。 He conceded that they should
take a short rest； while they had some cover。 The Ice Warriors set themselves down on the ground；
broke out their rations and their water bags； and relaxed for the first time in a good few hours。
The break buoyed their spirits； and Mikhaelev and Grayle were soon engrossed in a conversation
about the relative merits of Lightning and Thunderbolt fighters。 Grayle was enthusing about the time
he had got his hands on the controls of one of the latter； during a short secondment to the Imperial
Navy。
Gavotski； in the meantime； was reciting old war stories to an attentive Pozhar and Palinev； while
Barreski and Borscz had resumed their good…natured bickering。
“I’ll make you a deal；” said Barreski。 “When this mission is over； we will have a contest： my
flamer against your hands； and we will see which is the more deadly。”
“Then you had best hope your flamer does not jam；” said Borscz cheerfully； “or run out fuel； and
that you do not miss with your first shot； because one is all you will get。 After that； my hands will be
around your throat； and there will be no doubt about the outcome then — because my hands； I can
rely upon。”
“Oh； I never miss；” Barreski assured him； “you can count on that。”
The Validian captain had warned Steele about the lake。
He had led his company around it — but it had taken him the better part of a day to do so； and
they had run into more than one small Chaos encampment in the process。 Steele had decided that； if
it was at all possible； he would take his squad across； the lake； according to the Validian； was far
narrower than it was long。
And so it was that； after a short； uneventful trek from the forest； the Ice Warriors came to the
nearest bank of the lake and stumbled to a halt。 Steele dropped to one knee； drew a long…bladed
knife and held it so that its tip rested on the frozen surface。 He pushed it down slowly； measuring the
resistance it encountered； feeling when that resistance ended； when the knife tip had penetrated the
ice and emerged into the water beneath it。 By the time it did； he was pleased to note that the knife
was buried almost to its hilt。 The ice； he judged； was more than thick enough to support ten men。
Even so； the heavy Borscz was understandably apprehensive。 He let the others get a short way
ahead of him before he gingerly placed one foot on the ice； and then slowly； carefully eased his
great bulk onto it。 By the time he had taken four or five steps in this manner； however； he was
beginning to grow in confidence； and he soon caught up with his comrades。
The Ice Warriors had fanned out so as not to concentrate their weight in any one spot。 They
moved slowly； focusing on their feet； mindful of the likely consequences should any of them slip
and fall。 Steele kept his ear attuned to the cracking； creaking sounds of the ice under pressure；
hoping that those sounds would warn him in time if the pressure became too great。
The lake； he had been told； was a kilometre across； but it took his squad almost half an ho