there was no need； that Man could always triumph over Nature。 If he was the right man。
At their age…
He laid his gun aside。 This would be a fair fight。 Lorenzo drew his knife—a devil claw； the
finest of all Catachan blades； over a metre in length—and he pounced。 The creature reared up on six
bristling legs； opened its mighty claws； and whipped its spiny tail around to sting him。 It was fast。
He had almost forgotten how fast。 Or perhaps it was just that he had slowed down with age。 How
old was he now； anyway？
He could still take it。
Lorenzo landed in the spot where the creature had been； his knife raised to strike。 But the Devil
was no longer there。 He whirled； disoriented； but saw no trace of it。 How could it have escaped from
him？ From… from… what was his earned name； anyway？ He felt confused； standing in that
clearing alone。 Confused and humiliated。 He thought he could hear the children laughing at him。
40
Then Lorenzo glimpsed a spiny tail a short distance ahead of him； and he knew what had
happened。 The Catachan Devil had simply wandered away； in search of a better light。 A soft blue
light。 He could see it through the trees； and though he didn’t know what the light was； he didn’t
wonder。 The light was safe。 Everything made sense again。 Except…
How had he got so old？
Lorenzo knew what the children said about him behind his back。 They said he couldn’t be a hero
as he claimed； because he had survived the war when all the real heroes had died。 They called him a
coward； said he’d never taken a risk； never distinguished himself。 Never earned his name after all。
He could hear their taunts now。 He tried to blot them out； tried to focus on the creature in the blue
light ahead of him。 He couldn’t see it anymore； but he could see the light； and he approached it with
increasingly urgent steps。 In that light； he would prove them all wrong about him。 “I don’t know but
I’ve been told； Jungle Fighters don’t grow old…”
This wasn’t what Lorenzo wanted。
Even if it had been； he knew it was an impossible dream。 Few Jungle Fighters ended their days
like this； and he had never expected to be one of them。
It wasn’t real。
It wasn’t real。
With that sudden knowledge； he snapped back to the present； to Rogar III。 It hit him between the
eyes like a smack of cold air； and he was on the bank of a stagnant lake； one foot poised over its
surface。 He pulled back； and sent loose dirt skittering over the side。 As it hit； it evaporated in a cloud
of white steam。 Acid。
The blue light was hovering in the centre of the lake—but now； as if it knew its ploy had failed；
it blinked out again and left Lorenzo in the dark。 Alone。 Without his lasgun。
In a part of the jungle he had not seen before。
41
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lorenzo was afraid。
It was a feeling to which he wasn’t accustomed。 But then； nor was he used to being alone；
separated from his squad—to having abandoned them。 It was their lives he was afraid for； not his
own。
He didn’t know where he was； nor where Dougan had got to。 He didn’t know how far he had
walked； mesmerised by the blue light。 He just knew he had to get back to the campsite。 He crashed
through the jungle； following a trail he didn’t remember leaving； cursing himself for his weakness。
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been warned。 He could see it clearly now。 The light had been inside him
all the time； a more subtle presence than he could have imagined。 It had heightened his desires and
his fears； whatever it had taken to lead him where it had wanted him to go。 To his death。 He had
been lucky。 It hadn’t been strong enough。
Somehow； he had found the will to focus； to snap himself out of its spell。
The only thing he wanted right now； the total of his hopes and ambitions； was to find his
comrades alive。 He remembered what Dougan had said； how he’d suspected that the blue light was
trying to lure them away。 What if there had been an attack in his absence？ What if they were all
dead； and it was his fault？
Dougan。 Suddenly； Lorenzo could hear his voice again； and see the intensity in his gaze。 “Let
me do this… I need to do this！” He hadn’t questioned him； hadn’t seen that the light had cast its
spell over Dougan too。
He stumbled to a halt。 Somehow； impossibly； his trail had petered out。
He was lost for a moment； scrabbling in the undergrowth； looking for something—a snapped
twig； a crushed leaf—anything to show he had passed this way before。 There was nothing。 Until；
just as he was beginning to give up hope； wondering if he should risk calling out to the others；
Lorenzo’s fingers brushed against something。 Something cold； hard； smooth； angular。 Wood and
metal。
His lasgun。 He had to tear it from the clutches of weeds； as if it had lain here for weeks； been
claimed as the jungle’s own。 He felt another stab of anxiety。 He didn’t feel as if more than a few
minutes； maybe a half…hour； had passed； and the pre…dawn sky supported that theory—but in the
blue light’s embrace； time hadn’t meant a great deal。 His comrades’ corpses could be rotting
already。
He tried not to think about it。 No point in worrying about what he couldn’t change。 Just get back
to the campsite； and deal with what was real。
A pair of yellow lizard eyes blinked at Lorenzo from under a flowering plant。 He fried their
owner with a las…round； just to test that his gun wasn’t clogged。
A faint breath of air caressed his face； and made his scratches sting。 So； he hadn’t been
entranced long enough for them to heal。 He remembered stalking an imaginary Devil； standing
downwind of it。 He had to hope that this part of the fantasy； at least； had been real。 He closed his
eyes and oriented himself at the spot where he’d found the lasgun； tried to transport himself back to
that Catachan clearing and to mentally retrace his steps towards it。
When he opened his eyes again； he knew which way he had to go。
42
Lorenzo heard movements through the trees—and was that the sergeant’s voice？
He broke into a run； and came up short when two familiar figures loomed before him；
Armstrong and Landon。
“What happened？” asked Armstrong and Landon at the same time。
“We’ve been searching for you；” said Armstrong。 “Where—？”
“Is everyone—？”
“We thought something must have dragged you away。 We were lucky Sharkbait woke when he
did； and started yelling。 Landon here had a lizard on his neck； we only just got it off him in time。”
“I’m sorry。 I didn’t mean to—”
“Where’s Steel Toe？ Is he with you？”
Lorenzo felt as if his blood had just frozen。 “You haven’t seen him？”
He swallowed； and told Armstrong everything； burning with shame beneath the veteran’s oneeyed
gaze。 Before Lorenzo’s story was done； Armstrong was leading the way back to the camp。 En
route； they were joined by Myers and Storm； both bursting strong filled them in
brusquely； and Lorenzo pointed across the ashes of last night’s fire to where he had last seen
Dougan。 Myers and Storm went straight off to resume their search in that direction。
Armstrong mimicked the screeching call of a Catachan flying swamp mamba； and the rest of the
Jungle Fighters answered his summons； appearing two by two to hear the news and to have their
own efforts redirected。
Sergeant Greiss cast an appraising eye over Lorenzo； and asked if he was alright。 Lorenzo
nodded； and Greiss crooked a finger in his direction and growled； “You’re with me； trooper。”
Lorenzo fell in at the sergeant’s heels； avoiding his gaze。 He knew what he must have been
thinking。
The search went on for another hour； aided by the reappearance of the sun。 Donovits and Woods
found a partial trail； and Donovits identified the uniquely heavy indentation of Dougan’s bionic
leg—but as with Lorenzo’s trail earlier； it led them nowhere。
Greiss was about ready to give up； Lorenzo could feel it。 Until he gave the order； though； there
was still hope。 He found a path they hadn’t searched； because it was so overgrown； and he started to
hack at the vegetation with his knife。 Greiss regarded him for a second then； to his immense
gratitude； the sergeant drew his own Catachan fang and joined him。
They hadn’t gone far when a figure dropped out of a tree in front of them。 It was a lithe man in
camouflage fatigues and the customary bandana； with tanned skin and dark hair like Dougan’s。
Lorenzo’s heart leapt—and it stayed in his mouth as he recognised this newcomer； not as the man
they were looking for but as Sly Marbo。
He had never been this close to the legendary one…man army before。 In other circumstances； he
might have felt honoured—but Marbo seemed hardly to have seen Lorenzo。 His face was taut；
denied so much as a flicker of emotion； and his eyes were white and penetrating but dead inside； as
he addressed Greiss。 “You won’t find your trooper this way。”
Greiss accepted the pronouncement without question。 “Have you seen him？”
Marbo shook his head。 “This jungle has a way of hiding things； and people。 Haven’t worked it
out yet。”
Greiss sighed； and called out； “Right； let’s call it a day。 Reassemble at the campsite。” There was
no response； but Lorenzo knew that one of the others would have heard； and passed the message on。
“One more thing；” said Marbo in his deep； throaty voice。 “There’s an ork encampment forty
kilometres from here； twenty…two degrees。 A big one。 Don’t think the Validians know about it—but
your course will take you right through it。”
Lorenzo didn’t question how he could have scouted so far ahead。 He was Sly Marbo。
“No way round？”
43
“Not unless you want to go wading through an acid swamp—or adding four days to your
journey。”
Greiss expressed his gratitude with a curt nod—then Marbo was gone。 Just gone； in the time it
took Lorenzo to blink； leaving not the faintest ripple in the foliage。 Sergeant Greiss turned to retrace
his steps too； but Lorenzo stopped him with a hand on his shoulder。 “No。 You can’t… Trooper
Dougan； he could still be…”
Greiss raised an eyebrow。 “You heard what Marbo said。 Steel Toe’s gone。 Accept it and move
on。”
“But what if the light still has him？ If he’s been hypnotised… He could be out there！”
“You say this light of yours tried to give you an acid bath。”
“Yes； but I broke