“Caffeine； sir？” asked Gruber from the other side of the Chimera’s passenger compartment。 “It’s
hot。”
“No thank you； Gruber。 I’m wound up enough already。”
Gruber looked at the chronometer in the general’s hand and let out a snort of laughter。 “Good
one； sir。 Wound up。 I get it。”
DeViers smiled weakly。 He hadn’t meant to make a joke at all； but fine。 Let his adjutant think
what he would。 Laughing in the face of such desperation made him seem strong in the eyes of
others。 Let them think him unfazed by the frustrating turns the expedition had taken。
What lies ahead； he wondered？ What obstacle will test me next？
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He was about to find out。
“Vox is flashing； sir；” said Gruber； indicating a blinking green light on the wall…mounted unit
above the general’s left shoulder。 “Let me get that for you。”
Even though deViers was closest to the device； he let Gruber take care of the call。 It was the
man’s job； and it didn’t do to have the other officers think they could bother their general directly
with every little detail。 He had enough on his mind。 Over the years； Gruber had learned to screen the
general’s incoming vox…calls with great intuition。
Absently； deViers half…listened as Gruber spoke into the vox…caster’s mouthpiece。 Then the
adjutant turned and said； “It’s Colonel Marrenburg； sir。 He says his scouts have found the end of the
tunnel。”
DeViers felt his pulse quicken。
“I’ll speak to him；” he said； and accepted the mouthpiece from Gruber； who immediately
returned to his seat and his flask of hot caffeine。
“General deViers； here。 Go ahead； colonel。”
“Yes； sir；” said Marrenburg。 “I’ve just had it confirmed。 About three hundred metres ahead； the
main tunnel levels out。 It straightens there； too。 I’m told it ends another two hundred metres after
that。”
“I see； colonel。 And just how does it end。”
“Well； sir； I’m not sure how to say—”
“Let’s not play guessing games； man。 I don’t have the patience。”
Marrenburg’s voice was suddenly brusque as he answered。 “My apologies； general。 From what I
understand； it opens onto some kind of city； sir。 An underground city。”
Of course it does； thought deViers sarcastically。 Let’s see how the magos explains this one。
When Gerard Bergen’s Chimera； Pride of Caedus； emerged from the end of the tunnel and into the
huge open space under the mountain； half of the force’s vehicles were already there； the crews
gaping； staring wide…eyed at what lay before them。 The other half were still moving down through
the last stretches of the main tunnel。 The rearguard would enter within the hour。
Bergen stood in his cupola； turning his head from left to right； taking it all in。 The air around him
was thick with exhaust fumes； but they were less dense than they had been in the confines of the
tunnel。 There was more space for them to dissipate here。 The air pressure had changed。 He could
feel it on his skin。 It was cooler here； too。
With the vehicles spreading out in an ever…widening perimeter； there was plenty of light； though
not nearly enough to illuminate the cavern’s ceiling or the far walls。 Bergen still couldn’t begin to
estimate the size of the excavation。 What he did see； however； stole his breath away。
A city of smooth； dark metal stretched out from the mouth of the tunnel into the blackness
beyond。 It was a dead city； a city without movement or sound or energy of its own； but a city
nonetheless。
“So this is Dar Laq；” Bergen muttered to himself。
The buildings framed in the headlights of the Cadian vehicles shone back at him。 Every single
surface； every corner； every wall； was made of a shimmering； iridescent metal the likes of which
Bergen had never seen before。 As his eyes moved from one structure to the next； the colours seemed
to shift and change like sunlight on the surface of an oily pool。 It was beautiful in its own way。 It
reminded him of a shell he had once found on the south…western shores of the Caducades Sea。 He
had been practically an infant back then。 The memory had been lost in the recesses of his mind until
this very moment。 Suddenly it was as sharp as a high…resolution pictograph。
Troopers were spilling out of trucks and halftracks around his Chimera。 The beams from their
torches cut like sabres through the murk as their sergeants led them down alleys and avenues； each
footstep kicking up little puffs of dust。 “Safeties off！” he heard one sergeant call out as he passed
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within a few metres of Pride of Caedus。 “If there are any bloody xenos here； we’ll be ready for
them。”
Bergen doubted the barking sergeant would find any xenos alive down here。 This place was as
dead as the desert they had ridden through to get here。 He could feel it。 More so； in fact； for there
was life in the desert if one only knew where to look。 This place had all the atmosphere of a
mausoleum。
That was changing even as he watched。 After the…Throne…knew how many millennia of utter
silence and stillness； Dar Laq was filling with bustle and noise。 It seemed an almost sacrilegious
intrusion。 Bergen watched the troopers march off until they were lost behind the rows of blocky
alien structures。
Each of the buildings he looked at raised the same questions in his mind。 Where were the doors？
Where were the windows？ There seemed no obvious access points to any of them。
General deViers had questions； too。 Bergen heard him bark out a short order on the vox； and
powerful searchlights came on one at a time； reaching out for the ceiling and the far walls with their
brilliant white beams。 For the first time； Bergen saw massive towers standing tall over all the other
structures。 He looked up in wonder at the nearest； approximately three hundred metres away。 It
recalled to his mind the famous Cadian pylons that protected his home world from the vicious warp
storm known as the Eye of Terror。 As an officer…cadet； he had once visited the base of one of the
Cadian pylons； a rare privilege largely forbidden to those of the noncommissioned ranks。 He
remembered the aura of power he had sensed around that inexplicable monolith。 He had imagined at
the time that some kind of living force resided there； something of incredible energy and potency。
The Cadian pylons and the towers of Dar Laq were certainly both ancient and mysterious； but the
latter exuded no sense of power or presence； only an aura of death and decay； and of a splendour
lost forever to the ages。
The towers looked to be constructed of the same nacreous metal as the lower structures； but
there the similarities ended。 They were less blocky； less angular； suggesting that they had been
conceived with a sense of the artistic at least as much as the functional。 A few of them were broken；
the outer shells rusting or tearing away； revealing themselves to be stuffed full of what looked like
clockwork on the most massive scale。 Great black cogs sat unmoving； frozen in the glare of the
searchlights； teeth bared at the human interlopers。 Bergen’s natural curiosity kept throwing up
questions in his mind and it took some effort to quash them。 What feats of science or wonders of
sorcery might the creators of Dar Laq have been able to work in their day？ It was dangerous to ask；
more dangerous still to actively seek such knowledge。 Heresy lurked at the boundaries of such
thinking。 It was natural； too； though。 It was part of the human condition to revel in discovery；
despite the warnings of the Imperial Creed。
The tech…priests were guiltier than anyone of that。 Bergen imagined they would be readying their
bands of slaves and servitors to go out and search for answers。 They must have planned all this from
the very beginning。 Had they ever intended to help find The Fortress of Arrogance？ Or did their real
interest in Golgotha begin and end with Dar Laq？
He watched the white discs thrown out by the searchlights as they climbed the far wall； and his
jaw dropped open。 He had the measure of the cavern now； and it was vast； easily two to three
kilometres across at its widest； and a kilometre high where the cavern walls curved inwards to meet
at a single point。 Every inch of the walls had been worked by alien hands。 There were alcoves within
alcoves； pillared walkways； exquisitely wrought galleries of metal and so much more； all with the
same sharp； angular aesthetic of the ground…level buildings。 How many had lived here？ How had
they fashioned such a place？ And why had they chosen to live down here inside the mountain；
shunning the light and the sky above？
As the searchlights reached for the ceiling of the chamber； Bergen gaped。 There above him hung
the most incredible feature of all； perhaps a score of inverted black ziggurat…type structures linked
by metal gantries and platforms。 They seemed to be floating in the air。
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They can’t be； he told himself。
He dropped back down into his Chimera and pulled his magnoculars from their stowage box。
Returning to his cupola； he pressed the magnoculars to his eyes and looked up again。 It was only
when he squinted hard through the lenses that he realised they truly were floating as they had no
right to。
“Emperor protect us；” he muttered。 “What the devil is going on here？”
A sudden burst of loud static from his vox…bead almost made him drop his magnoculars。 A
sharp； familiar voice said； “Bergen； come in。 I’m calling a session of my senior officers at once。
Meet me at the rear of my Chimera in three minutes。 I’m calling on the tech…priests to account for all
this。 It’s about time we had some blasted answers。”
“I’d say so； sir；” said Bergen； thinking he had a few questions of his own。
Wulfe didn’t like this one damned bit； and neither did any of his crew。 Tanks didn’t belong
underground。 It wasn’t right。 It wasn’t natural。 What if there was a cave…in or something？ He wasn’t
claustrophobic。 No tanker would last very long with that particular affliction； but something about
this whole place made his scar itch like crazy。 No human hands had built it。
Damned xenos； he thought。 Nowhere is safe from them。
Things could have been worse。 Emperor protect all the footsloggers who’d gone off down those
dark alleyways looking for signs of alien occupation； and he wouldn’t have swapped places with t