inverted hull。
Her turret wasn’t even visible； buried deep in sand and loose rock。 No one would be crawling
from its hatches。
He directed his team to move in and check for signs of life。 Sergeant Wulfe was among them
and immediately clambered up onto the machine’s upturned belly。 He removed his laspistol from its
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thigh holster； lay flat against the tank’s belly armour and began tapping out a message in cipher…one。
It was an old code； a series of taps and pauses that the Cadian military still taught to cadets in their
first year； though there was little cause to use it given the prevalence of vox…comms。 Van Droi was
amazed that Wulfe remembered the code at all。 It had been over twenty years since the man had
been a cadet。 Reaching back to memories of his own days in training； it took van Droi a moment to
unscramble the message。 It was the same code； repeated over and over again： Survivors； respond。
Survivors； respond。
Wulfe pressed his ear to metal for about a minute； after which his movements took on a
distinctly urgent quality。 Noting this； van Droi moved closer； but he didn’t dare speak。 This was no
time to distract the sergeant。
Wulfe’s message changed： Number of casualties？
Van Droi saw him press his ear to the armour again； and then； after a short pause； tap a single
word： Wait。
Leaping down from the belly of the tank； Wulfe marched straight over to van Droi。
“Three dead； one alive； sir。 It’s the driver； Private Krausse。”
“Status？” asked van Droi。
“Not good； sir。 Lots of broken bones。 Lacerations。”
“Damn；” spat van Droi。 “I think we both know how this is going to turn out； Wulfe。”
The sergeant looked at the ground。 “Frakking hell； sir。 We can’t。”
“We both know that’s not our call。 Stromm’s the man in charge。 Don’t hate him for it。 He has to
think about the rest of us。”
“Can’t we at least try； sir？”
“I wish we could； Oskar；” said van Droi heavily； “but with our limited resources； it would take
the rest of this day and half of the next to cut him out。 And that’s cutting where the armour is
thinnest。”
Van Droi couldn’t see Wulfe’s face。 It was masked and goggled； like his own； against the
airborne dust； but he knew the sergeant’s expression would be much the same as his： bloody
miserable。
“Get yourself and the others back up to your tanks。 Stromm will have orders for us to move out
soon。 His people will have found a trail down for the vehicles by now。 Do something else for me；
will you？ Tell the others… Tell them there were no survivors。”
“You want me to lie； sir？” asked Wulfe。 There was a knife…edge of bitterness in his voice。
“I want you to think of what’s best； sergeant；” snapped van Droi。 “Morale is bastard low as it is。
So you go up there and you tell them no one made it。 And we move on。 Is that clear？”
Wulfe snapped his boots together。 The tone of his voice became flat and hard as he said；
“Crystal clear； sir。 My apologies。 I should not have questioned you。”
“No； Oskar；” said van Droi。 “No apologies from you。 Just… do as I’ve asked； will you？”
“Of course； sir。 You can count on me。”
With that； Wulfe turned； gathered the other four men together and led them back up the ropes to
the waiting tanks above。
Van Droi hauled himself up onto Cold Deliverance； frowning under his mask at how dizzy the
effort made him feel。 He wasn’t drinking enough water each day； not by far。 Who could blame him？
The purification kits didn’t do much to take away the bitter saline taste of the processed urine。 Food
rations were also running very low。 He must have lost a dozen kilograms over the last ten days； if
not more。
He removed a finely…crafted autopistol from the holster at his hip； and lay down on the upturned
belly of the tank in the spot Wulfe had occupied a moment earlier。 With the heel of his pistol he
began tapping a message to the man trapped inside： Company commander here。
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He listened for a response。 After a few seconds； there came a series of clangs。 In his mind； van
Droi translated the beats and pauses： Understood。 Greetings。
Van Droi tapped again： Extrication impossible。
There was a much longer pause this time before the response came back。 This time； a single
word： Understood。
Do you have a weapon？ van Droi tapped。
Yes； tapped Krausse。 There was a long pause； then he added； Will use。
Van Droi wanted to tap the word sorry； but something stayed his hand。 Instead； he tapped； Go
with the Emperor； son。
He listened carefully； ear pressed hard to the thick metal below him； but the tank driver had
stopped tapping back。 There was only a single last clang from inside the overturned machine。 It was
the sound of a weapon discharging。 Van Droi didn’t need to decrypt it to know that it meant
goodbye。
As he scrambled down from the tank； walked over to the rope； and began the tiring climb back
up； the lieutenant’s heart felt like it weighed about sixty tonnes itself。 Damn it all； he thought。 Who
would be a bloody leader of men？
At the top of the rope； arms reached out to help him over； and he stood to find himself facing a
row of his tankers clad in masks and goggles。 They stood to attention as he rose and dusted off his
fatigues。
“Why aren’t you lot in your tanks？” he asked them。 “Have Stromm’s lot found a way down
yet？”
It was the burly Sergeant Rhaimes who stepped forward and said； “They’ve found a lot more
than that； sir。 Switch your vox over to band nine。”
Van Droi huffed impatiently and lifted a finger to his vox bead。 He switched it to band nine and
froze。 He could hardly believe his ears。 There was rapid chatter bouncing back and forth。 One of the
voices was immediately familiar； the gruff but well…educated voice of Colonel Stromm。
The other； however； was new to van Droi； and that in itself was significant。
“Sentinel patrol ident tag nine…theta…nine…six…five confirms your last transmission； colonel。
Relaying it back to field headquarters。 Standby。”
Van Droi gasped。 He moved towards Rhaimes。
“Is that what I think it is？” he demanded。
He didn’t need to see Rhaimes’ face to know he was smiling as he said； “Bet your balls on it； sir。
A Sentinel patrol！ It’s Exolon。 They must have secured a base nearby。”
Van Droi suddenly felt like leaping into the air。 “By the bloody Golden Throne！ They made it
down after all。 But I can barely hear them on this bead。 Everyone back to your tanks on the double。
Get ready to move out as soon as we have instructions。”
The men saluted and trotted off at speed。 Van Droi felt better than he had in days。 Salvation at
last。 He had been sure they would all die out here one way or another。 But now… hope！
Inside his turret； using the more powerful vox…caster there； he heard the communications from
the Sentinel patrol coming in much louder and clearer。
“Colonel Stromm；” said the voice； “I have orders for you from Major General Bergen。 You are
to move due east； proceed down from the escarpment； rendezvous with this patrol at the base of the
cliffs and follow us back to the base at Balkar。 Confirm。”
Balkar！ thought van Droi。 I can’t believe we’re this far out。
He thought back to General deViers’ briefing sessions。 From Balkar； it was a short journey
eastwards to the last known location of The Fortress of Arrogance。 From there； the Mechanicus ship
in orbit above the planet would be signalled。 A recovery craft would be sent for the tank。 Then it
was back to Hadron base for extrication by the Navy。 Throne above； things were looking up！
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Suddenly； with the thought of extrication； the lieutenant’s mind was yanked roughly back to
Private Krausse； the driver trapped inside Cold Deliverance。
Extrication impossible。
Van Droi had tapped the message。
Extrication frakking impossible！
There had been no time to save Krausse； no time to wait while fuel and rations were burned up；
no time to stop； hoping the orks wouldn’t happen across them as they tried to rescue one of their
own。 It would have put everyone at risk。 Van Droi had been sure he was doing the right thing。 Only
now； suddenly； it seemed that there was time。 But there was no life left to save。
Van Droi had made that call。 Weariness and the weight of his command hit him again like a
sledgehammer； and he sat at the rear of the Vanquisher’s turret with his hands pressed tight to his
face。
By the blasted Eye of Terror！
Absently； with that fraction of his awareness that wasn’t drowning in guilt； he heard Stromm’s
voice again on the vox…link。 The colonel confirmed the major general’s orders with the Sentinel
pilot who was relaying them。 Then Stromm contacted each of his officers and gave them his
instructions。
To van Droi； he said； “Damned good news； eh； lieutenant？ After all we’ve been through。”
“It certainly is； sir；” said van Droi。 “My tanks are ready to move out on your command。”
Stromm had served a long time in the Guard。 He knew when an officer wasn’t telling him
something。 “You all right； van Droi？ You sound a bit less ecstatic than I would’ve expected given
the circ — Oh！ The tank。 I’m sorry； van Droi。 In all the excitement…”
“That’s all right； sir。 Of course； I couldn’t be happier about making contact with the rest of the
army group。”
“Survivors？”
“No； sir；” said van Droi wearily。 “No survivors； I’m afraid。”
“I’m sorry； lieutenant。 Of course； they’ll be honoured properly when we get to Balkar。 I imagine
there will be plenty of decorations after the campaign。 Throne knows； our lads deserve them。 We’ve
had a devil of a time out here； van Droi。 Good men lost。 But we came through it； man。 We came
through。 The confessors will organise a service for those that didn’t。”
Van Droi knew they would； but it did nothing to comfort him。 Once Stromm had signed off； he
opened a link to his tank commanders on the company channel。 There were only seven of them now；
eight tanks left including his own。
“I want a double column。 Two fours。 Foe…Breaker front left。 Old Smashbones right。 We roll east
behind the colonel’s Chimeras。 Keep your eyes open for trouble。 You know the drill。 I know you’re
all tired； but we’re almost home。 See it through。”
When each of the tanks had confirmed and rumbled into position； he gave the order and they all
mov