“You know；” said Killian； “with luck and a prayer； the bloody orks might well have moved on。 I
didn’t see any movement。 No signs of occupation at all。 I mean； who knows how old that thing is？”
DeViers shook his head。 “No； Klotus。 They’re there all right。 It took a lot of work to make that
wall。 Our prize lies behind it。 And I’m damned sure that the xenos filth who made it are still behind
it； too。”
“Honestly； sir；” said Rennkamp。 “A single Vulcan。 Just one fast sweep and we’ll know for sure。”
“And put the whole damned greenskin horde on immediate high alert？ No； Aaron。 No aerial
recon。 The Vulcans can’t fly high enough in this accursed weather to evade detection。 Give me
something else。”
“A Hornet then； sir；” said Bergen。 “A single Hornet reconnaissance bike might be mistaken for
one of the orks’ own at long range。 That’s no guarantee they won’t fire on it anyway； of course； but
if we’re lucky； it’ll draw a lot less attention and still let us get a man close enough to make a
difference。”
DeViers nodded。 “That sounds feasible。 Make it happen。 Get the best scout we have out there。
Someone with experience。 I’ll want a full report； including a list of as many weak points as possible；
within the hour。”
Bergen saluted and moved off to see it done。
It didn’t take an hour。 It was only forty minutes later that the Hornet rider chosen for the
reconnaissance run reported back to Colonel Marrenburg。 The colonel cut the scout’s verbal report
short； ordering him to save it for the general’s command tent where the army group’s senior officers
111
— more than a dozen men ranking colonel and higher — awaited them。 Marrenburg then led his
man over the red sand and in through the tent flap。 The day was already baking hot。
In the cooler shade of the general’s tent； Marrenburg introduced his scout to the assembled
officers。
“Gentlemen；” he said proudly； “this is Sergeant Bussmann。 He’s the best damned scout in my
outfit。 You can have absolute confidence in his report； I assure you。”
Since Sergeant Bussmann belonged to Bergen’s division； deViers asked Bergen to conduct the
briefing； giving the general and the others a chance to concentrate on the details and any questions
they needed to ask。 There wasn’t much good news。 Judging by the sergeant’s account； the wall was
more daunting the closer one got to it。 Whatever lay inside must have been of great value to the
greenskins； for they had expended tremendous resources in its construction； resources that might
otherwise have gone into the construction of hundreds； if not thousands； of their war machines。
This bothered Bergen on two counts。 Firstly； it suggested that the orks had enough resources to
be able to afford such a grand static defence。 This led him to suspect they had established ore
refineries somewhere。 Were they close by？ Golgotha had been selected for occupation by the
Adeptus Mechanicus centuries ago for the amount and variety of metals deep within its crust。 It
wasn’t much of a stretch to believe the orks were taking similar advantage of the resources。
Secondly； the use of so much valuable metal in construction of the wall could only mean that
whatever lay on the other side was something the orks considered very important。 Yes； they were
beastlike and savage； but they could be cunning； too。 They weren’t nearly as mindless as men
believed。 They had built a wall； and there had to be a good reason。
As he listened to Bussmann； Bergen found himself wondering if The Fortress of Arrogance
might not be the thing the aliens were trying to protect。 Had they known all along that the Imperium
would come back to Golgotha to collect it？ Had they planned and built the wall knowing that the
fight would come to them？
Bussmann reported large amounts of artillery present on the parapets。 Some of the barrels he had
seen extending out from between the wall’s teeth were unnervingly broad； chambered for rounds of
such size they might have been more at home on the prow of an interstellar battleship。
That’s it then； thought Bergen。 They must still be here。 There’s no way the greenskins would
leave weapons like that behind。 By the blasted Eye； we’ve got a fight on our hands。
It had been impossible for Bussmann to gauge the thickness of the wall and how well it would
stand up to the weaponry of the 18th Army Group； but it certainly looked like it could take a
beating。 On the other hand； some of the plates were rusting； and orks rarely built anything with
consistent strength throughout。 There would be irregularities in the structure that Exolon could
exploit if only they could find them。
The question was； would they have the chance？ Bussmann had spotted numerous hinged plates
set in the wall at apparently random points。 A few of them had fallen off； their bolts having rusted；
revealing the nature of the others。 They were firing ports； and the cannon they hid were massive。
At the end of his report； Sergeant Bussmann cast a somewhat anxious glance at Colonel
Marrenburg。 Then he took a deep breath and said； “In my opinion； sirs； a direct frontal assault on the
ork wall will result in very heavy losses。 If it were up to me—”
“Sergeant；” snapped Marrenburg； cutting Bussmann off。 “You will restrict yourself to answering
direct questions。”
Bussmann flushed and an angry look stole across his face； but he said； “I apologise if I spoke out
of turn； sir。”
General deViers cleared his throat and addressed the sergeant。 “We’ll overlook it this time；
sergeant； but think on this： without hardship there can be no glory。 Show me something worth doing
that doesn’t have its price。”
Bergen wanted to roll his eyes； and； judging by the sergeant’s sudden look of disbelief；
Bussmann felt the same。 Before the scout could dig himself a deeper hole； however； Bergen jumped
112
in and said； “Thank you very much for your report； sergeant。 Your service today has been noted。
Unless the general wishes to ask anything else…”
DeViers shook his head。
“In that case；” continued Bergen； “you’re dismissed。”
Bussmann snapped out a sharp salute； turned； and marched out into the light of day。
“We need to focus on the gates；” said Killian。 “From his report； it sounds like they’re hinged to
open outwards。 They’re far too big to ram open anyway。 How in the blasted warp are we going to
breach them？”
It was Colonel Vinnemann； hunched in his chair like some kind of cathedral gargoyle； who
answered。 “We all know orks。 Chances are； when they see us coming； they’ll open the gates and
start spilling out like rats from a burning building。 We can fight our way through if we don’t give
them a chance to close the gates again。”
Bergen caught General deViers looking over at the disfigured form of Vinnemann with an
expression of barely concealed distaste； and； for the first time since leaving Hadron Base； he felt a
sudden powerful resurgence in his contempt for the old general。
“And if they don’t come spilling out？” asked a dark…skinned colonel by the name of Meyers。 He
was tall and thin； vulture…like； and one of his eyes was a white orb without a hint of iris or pupil。 He
was one of Killian’s men。
Colonel Vinnemann smiled his crooked smile and said； “Then Angel of the Apocalypse will have
to roll up and knock on their door。”
Bergen scanned the faces of the men seated in the tent and saw a few smiling at Vinnemann’s
remark； but the atmosphere was still heavy。 No one had really expected this。 They weren’t prepared
for any kind of extended siege。 They were hundreds of kilometres from their forward base； and if
they entered any kind of stalemate with the orks； their supply lines would be extremely vulnerable。
If the orks had any kind of air power； bombing Red Gorge would cut the expeditionary force off
from all contact with Balkar。 The intelligence guiding the mission had been sketchy from the
beginning — a patchwork of Mechanicus probe data； military maps dating back forty years； and
Officio Strategos guesswork — but Bergen had never been so sharply aware of the entire mission’s
freewheeling； underpinned nature as he was right now。
“So； a full frontal assault；” said Killian unenthusiastically。 “We’ll be naked； mind you。 All our
machines racing forwards across open ground… If the Emperor isn’t watching over us； it’ll be a
bloody massacre at mid…range。 You all heard what Bussmann said about the number of cannon on
the wall。”
“I think we can discount much of that；” said a scowling deViers。 “Half of the time； ork
weaponry doesn’t even work。”
“And the other half；” said Rennkamp； his eyes flashing； “it rips our boys apart。”
DeViers looked suddenly furious； on the verge of throwing one of his rages； but the sheer
number of men present and their quiet； concentrated manner seemed enough to quell the outburst
before it got started。
That was close； thought Bergen。 Rennkamp and Killian are really letting loose on him。 Fine with
me； but I’m not sure the colonels need to see it。
Bergen didn’t disagree with his peers。 They had merely voiced the thoughts that had been
circling in his own head all this time。 Here they all were； after so many days crossing bare sand and
rock； chasing a relic that； in all likelihood； no longer existed； and before them was the last and
greatest obstacle they would face。 Beyond that towering wall of iron and steel； in a rocky valley
somewhere at the foot of the Ishawar range； lay the end of this nightmare。 Yarrick’s tank would
either be there or it wouldn’t。 In either case； breaking through the wall would bring a close to this
whole endeavour。 They could pull out。 They could head for Armageddon； where the fighting really
mattered。
113
“I say we do it；” said Bergen； suddenly committed。 Every eye in the room turned towards him。
“A full frontal assault； hammering them with everything we have。 If we concentrate our efforts on a
small enough section； I think we can pull it off。 I think we can break through。”
“Knew you’d see it my way；” said a delighted deViers； leaning across in his chair to slap Bergen
on the shoulder。
Bergen fought not to flinch away from the general’s hand。
What choice have I got？ he thought bitterly。 Throne forgive me