wounded； Catachans and Validians working together to restore order。
“For any of you girls who were fretting；” announced Colonel Graves； “B Platoon have voxed in。
They’ve had some casualties—lost eight men—but most of them are still standing； and they’re
making their way to us； ETA 11。00。 In view of this delay； Commissar Mackenzie has decided not to
wait。 All Jungle Fighters are to assemble in the briefing hut in twenty minutes。”
Lorenzo slept under the stars that night； on a bed of leaves picked from the edge of the jungle and
carefully tested for hidden spines and poison sap。 Basic quarters had been provided for the
Catachans； but there weren’t enough bunks for all of them—and most would have chosen to sleep
outdoors anyway。 It had been too long。
The sounds of the jungle at night brought a feeling of calm to Lorenzo。 The rustle of a breeze in
its leaves； the caws and cackles of nocturnal predators； the gurgle of water—or some other liquid—
carried from far away。 He wished he could be deeper inside it。 The area cleared out by the Validians
had an acrid burnt scent to it。 Lorenzo was used to having a canopy of green above him—but tonight
it was black； and freckled with the white points of distant suns。 The night sky was crystal clear； the
air warm。 It was as if Rogar III was showing him its good points； its aesthetic qualities。 As if it
wanted to lull him into a sense of security by hiding its true； savage beauty from him。 Lorenzo
wasn’t fooled。 He looked forward to the morning； to testing this world’s mettle。
He thought back to Mackenzie’s briefing； and suppressed a thrill。 The commissar had been
furnished with a list of the Catachan squads； and had assigned them to various missions。 B Platoon
had drawn the short straw in their absence； they would arrive at the encampment to find that their
comrades had moved out and left them to reinforce the security details here。 If they were lucky； the
orks would provide a distraction or two to break up the monotony。
The rest of the Catachans were to do what the Validians could not： take the fight to the orks
themselves。 Which meant； of course； fighting the jungle too。
“I know what you’re all thinking。” Colonel Graves had added to Mackenzie’s speech。 “It’s a
jungle world； maybe even a deathworld； nothing you haven’t seen before。 Well； believe me； Rogar
III is different。 The commissar here tells me that； a year ago； this place was a little green corner of
paradise。 Well； I don’t know what’s happened； and to tell the truth I don’t much care—but as you
ladies can see； this isn’t paradise anymore。”
Later； Donovits had tossed around a lot of phrases like “climate change” and “axis shifts”—but
Lorenzo hadn’t cared much。
He’d been more interested in hearing how the Imperium’s attempts to expand its encampments
had met with failure。 It was a full…time job for a squad of Guardsmen to maintain this one； small
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though it was。 For every jungle creeper they burnt away； two more seemed to replace it—and their
rate of growth was prodigious。
“When the Explorators came to Rogar。” Graves had said； “they recorded some weird energy
signature。” Of course； Lorenzo had already known that； thanks to Donovits。 “Now； I’m not saying
there’s anything in that—just warning you hotheads not to get too cocky。 We don’t know what this
deathworld has to throw at us； but we do know a couple of hundred Guardsmen have died trying to
find out。”
Mackenzie had displayed a rough map of the area； and pointed out the known ork strongholds。
He was planning an attack on one of these； intelligence suggested that it was lightly defended； the
orks depending on the jungle itself to protect them。 A derisive snort had gone up from the Catachans
at this point。
The whole of A Platoon； ogryns and all； was committed to this offensive； while two of D
Platoon’s four squads were to set traps and lay in wait for reinforcements from the other ork camps。
Other squads would target supply lines—hit and run tactics； to divide the enemy’s attention。
Lorenzo’s squad had been the last to learn its assignment—and its ten men had let out a cheer
when Mackenzie had explained that it was the most vital； and most dangerous； of all。 The
commissar had shouted at them to be silent。
“One particular ork has been giving us trouble；” he had said。 “Their current warboss in this
region。 You know how it is—we take out one； another takes its place。 But this one has a few more
brain cells than most。 The troops have taken to calling him Big Green。 He’s actually got the beasts
organised； to an extent。 Their last few raids on us were almost well planned。 And this ork has a keen
sense of self…preservation。 Most warbosses lead from the front； this one stays behind the lines。 He’s
become a legend to the orks； if only because he’s lasted longer than his predecessors。 He’s good for
their morale。 Too good。 I want him dead！”
According to the commissar； the Imperial Guard had been close to finding the warboss’ hideout
when； in his own words； “the jungle became impassable”。 They knew its general location； but the
lair itself was well concealed。 The Catachans’ job was to find the ork warboss and do the necessary
deed。 A stealth mission； a single assassination。 Sounded simple； Lorenzo thought。
Then； Mackenzie had thrown a spanner in the works。
“Given the importance of this mission；” he had said； “I will be leading it myself。 Silence！” he
bellowed in response to the Catachans’ howls of protest。
Sergeant Greiss； who a moment earlier had sported a broad grin on his face； now looked as if he
had been slapped。 “With respect； sir；” he had growled； “you aren’t a Jungle Fighter。 Better if the
men take their orders from someone used to—”
“Contrary to popular belief； sergeant。” Mackenzie had sneered； “they do teach us to do more
than sit around and drink amasec in officer training。 I am fully qualified in jungle warfare—and
more importantly； in command。 Now； I’m sure your style of leadership is adequate for charging at
the enemy with your bayonets fixed—but this is to be a precision strike。 For that to work； I need…”
He raised his voice to speak over the growing grumbles of dissent。 “I need a well…drilled； efficient
squad of men； who know what’s expected of them and plaint。
With respect； sergeant； I doubt you can provide that。”
Lorenzo wasn’t looking forward to serving under Mackenzie。 Still； he wouldn’t have swapped
this assignment for any other。 He felt proud at the thought that Colonel Graves might have
recommended his squad above all others—although he wasn’t kidding himself。 He knew that； if they
had been recommended； it would have been for Greiss’ experience or the distinguished war records
of Dougan and Armstrong。 Chances were； the colonel didn’t even know Lorenzo’s name。 Anyway；
it seemed more likely that Mackenzie had made the choice himself； probably just for the opportunity
to laud it over Greiss。
The Catachans had insisted on providing their own night watch； to the chagrin of the Validians
already standing sentry over the camp。 Lorenzo had volunteered for the duty； but he hadn’t been
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quick enough。 He slept soundly； knowing he was safe in the charge of his comrades—until； in the
dark hours of the morning； some inbred danger sense woke him。
He opened his eyes； instantly alert； to face a yellow stare。
A jungle lizard； just a little larger than the one he had seen yesterday。 Somehow it had slipped by
the Guardsmen of two regiments； and crept up on him。 Its eyes stared into his eyes。 It was perfectly
still； its trailing body propped up by two legs like miniature tree trunks。 Tiny nostrils quivered as it
breathed； slowly and calmly。 Its mouth was a thin line； perhaps a little upturned at the edges。 As if it
was mocking him； gloating。
Lorenzo had seen lizards that could breathe fire and spit poison； or eviscerate a man with their
claws in seconds。 He had seen one burrow into a man’s stomach and attach itself to his nervous
system； working him like a puppet。 He had no idea of the capabilities of this one； but he didn’t doubt
that it was deadly。 Deathworlds bred no other type of animal。 And it had the drop on him。
He lay still as a rock； staring into those yellow eyes； looking for the slightest glimmer of intent；
the warning that the lizard was about to strike。
Slowly； painfully slowly； so slowly that his muscles screamed in protest； Lorenzo’s fingers
worked their way down his leg。 Toward his Catachan fang。
The lizard made its move。
Its mouth gaped open； impossibly wide； almost larger than its head—and during the briefest
split…second that followed； Lorenzo got the impression of a coiled red tongue with a glistening
needlepoint end。 He snatched his knife from its sheath； tried to roll out of the way； but he knew there
was no time。
Something flashed through the air。 Something metal。
Then there was blood—thick； green blood—and Lorenzo was up and armed； but only because
the expected attack had not come。
A Catachan fang was buried up to its haft in the lizard’s head。 Its blade had passed through the
creature’s mouth； pinning its tongue； and into the scorched earth beneath it。 An ordinary man might
have thanked the God…Emperor for sparing him； but Lorenzo had long since learned there was no
divine intervention in such matters。 He thanked good comrades instead。
“Sorry “bout that； pal；” said Myers； reclaiming his knife from the dead lizard’s head and
casually wiping off its blood and brain matter with a leaf。 “These critters are like chameleons； they
can change their scale patterns to blend in with their surroundings。”
As usual； Myers was accompanied by Wildman Storm—a muscular； bearded Catachan who
often looked like he would tear off your head as soon as look at you； until his features broke into a
dazzling grin。 “We’ve picked off a few tonight；” he said； “but we didn’t hear this one until it was
already past us。 Took a minute to find it。”
“No problem；” said Lorenzo； adding a grateful nod for the rescue。
No longer pinned； the lizard had toppled onto its side。 Its ruptured tongue lolled out of its mouth；
leaking venom and blood。 From above； no longer eye to eye with it； it