manhole above them。 They were expecting trouble from above； not from below。 They weren’t
expecting him。 He could take them。
And they would raise the alarm； and then more cultists would come running。 Would he be able
to ferry the women and the children up the ladder and hold their attackers off long enough to follow
them？
A more cautious man might have waited a while longer； might have looked for a better chance；
or even another ladder。 Not Pozhar。 He had lost enough time already。
Even though he knew that the fight ahead of him would be difficult； even though he knew that
his chances of survival were slim； he drew his lasgun and he ran to meet it firing。 And he did so not
just because he felt he had no other choice； but with a grin on his face and a mad laugh erupting
from his stomach。
A step gave way beneath Trooper Palinev’s foot； and he leapt for the safety rail and pulled himself
up。 He had started a cascade effect； which demolished the rest of the staircase beneath him； but he
had attained the balcony level of the refinery as planned。
He grinned at the memory of those comrades who had thought him mad for eschewing the
standard Valhallan greatcoat。 His basic flak jacket might not have provided the same level of
protection against the cold； but it was much lighter； more flexible； and Palinev’s unencumbered
agility had just saved his life。
He reached the tall； narrow window — the one towards which his sergeant had directed him
from outside； below。 He settled behind it and used the butt of his long…las； his sniper variant lasgun；
to knock out the glass。 An icy gust of wind blew away the refinery’s stuffy gloom； and further
reddened Palinev’s already ruddy cheeks。
He rested the long； thin barrel of his weapon against the sill； and waited。
The battle had only just spread to this part of the hive； and many of the buildings were still
standing。 Palinev’s platoon was attempting to draw the enemy into a narrow street； a bottleneck in
which the defenders would have the advantage； and the strategy was working。 The first wave of
Chaos forces came crashing against the Ice Warriors’ front lines； and were held。 That made them
sitting ducks for Palinev； and the nine other snipers stationed behind the surrounding windows。 He
squeezed off round after round； claiming kill after kill。
And then； in a second； the tide turned。
Palinev didn’t know what had happened at first； only that there had been a shift in the battle； that
his comrades were reacting to something he hadn’t seen。 Something behind them。 Then he saw lasbeams
ripping into them； from an area that ought to have been secure； taking them by surprise。 It
was a massacre。
18
His heart in his throat； Palinev abandoned his post and raced along the circular balcony； his
footsteps ringing off metal mesh。 Three windows along； he found a better view； and he saw to his
horror that cultists and traitors were rising from the manholes； from the underhive； outflanking their
foes。 The Ice Warriors on the ground were rallying； but they didn’t stand a chance。 Still； Palinev did
what he could to help them； sniping down all the heretics he could in the time he had。
The refinery doors crashed open； somewhere beneath him； and all of a sudden the battle seemed
a great deal louder； a great deal closer to him。
The intruders knew where he was。 A frag grenade arced over the balcony rail and rolled up to
Palinev’s feet。 He was already running； just ahead of the explosion； which blew out a section of the
building’s wall。 The balcony was mangled； left partially unsupported； trembling and creaking —
and； as Palinev reached the one remaining set of steps； he found four Chaos cultists ascending
towards him； recognisable by their cloaks and by their obscene tattoos。
He brought up his gun； but the cultists were too fast for him； and he had to throw himself onto
his stomach to avoid their las…fire。 He wasn’t accustomed to close combat； wasn’t built for it。
Palinev had spent his years in service honing his sneaking and sniping skills。 This； then； was his
worst nightmare： an enemy that could see him！
A section of mesh beneath him rattled and slid。 Feverishly； he pried it loose and clambered down
through a web of scaffolding。 He dropped the six metres to the ground floor level； rolling to absorb
the impact of his landing。 The cultists were up on the teetering balcony； looking for him； and he
decided to give them a taste of their own medicine。 They saw the incoming grenade； and one of
them tried to run； while the other three saw the futility of that course and jumped for it。
Palinev managed to get off a shot while they were in mid air； wounding one of the cultists； who
landed awkwardly with a snap of bone。 Then the grenade went off and the balcony gave way；
bringing two walls down with it。 All Palinev had time to do was to drop to his knees and cover his
head with his hands as he was engulfed by a tidal wave of screeching； rending sound。
When it was all over； as the echoes died down； Palinev raised his head； and saw that one of the
cultists had survived； and was training a lasgun on him。 He closed his eyes； heard the familiar
cracking retort； and expected it to be the last thing he would ever hear。
Then； he opened his eyes again to find the cultist dead on the floor。
An Ice Warrior stood over the corpse； one whose name Palinev did not know。 “You the scout；
Palinev？” the man grunted； and he nodded blankly。
“Must be something up with your comms；” said the Ice Warrior。 “They’ve been trying to contact
you for the past half hour。 Steele wants you。”
They had lined up beside the Termite； Steele and his handpicked squad： the nine troopers to whom
he would be trusting his life； and more importantly； the success of his assignment。
They stood with their heads bowed in silence； their hats and helmets removed； as a priest laid his
hands upon each of them in turn； and bestowed the blessing of the God…Emperor upon them。 Steele
cursed his enhanced sense of smell； it took all the self…control he had not to choke on the pungent
cloud that billowed from the holy man’s incense burner。
The priest’s arrival had been a surprise to them all。 Steele had known； of course； that the
Ecclesiarchy had a special interest in his mission； but this… For an entire squad to be sanctified like
this was almost unheard of。 Still； the ritual provided a rare moment of calm； of inner peace； despite
the background sounds of gunfire and explosions； and engines and dying from the none…too…distant
war。 Steele had welcomed that and been re…energised by it。
He noted that Pozhar was not quite so appreciative。 The young trooper had been the last of the
squad to arrive； bounding up to an indulgent Gavotski full of energy； and bursting with stories about
what he had been through to get here。 His body was like a coiled spring； his hands twitching with
the desire to get the ceremony done with and get on with the business of finding someone to kill。
19
When Blonsky’s turn came； his chest swelled with pride and a righteous smile pulled at his thin
lips。 Mikhaelev； in contrast； held himself rigid； contained； and betrayed no reaction to his blessing at
all。 Beside him； Anakora reacted to the priest’s touch with a little shudder； and a single tear dripped
from her down…turned eyes。
Then it was done — and； with a final nod and a munificent smile in Steele’s direction； the priest
ambled away。 The colonel took a deep breath as his moment of peace ended and he prepared to get
back down to business。 He nodded at his sergeant； to indicate that it was time — and Gavotski
stepped forward； cleared his throat and addressed the squad。
“You may have heard the name Confessor Wollkenden；” he said。 “You may have heard that he
came here to Cressida a month ago； to minister to its people； to help them resist the corruption of
their world。 You may also have heard that the confessor is one of the finest men the Imperium has
bred。 It is thanks in part to his leadership that the war in the Artemis system was won。”
In fact； Steele hadn’t heard Wollkenden’s name before this morning； and he doubted whether
Gavotski had either。 He had been left in no doubt； however； of the stock placed in him by the
Ecclesiarchy； that they considered him a virtual saint。
“Three days ago；” Gavotski continued； “the confessor was en route to an outlying settlement to
the north of here； intending to make contact with a group of loyalist resisters。 His shuttle came under
fire。 A vox…message from its pilot confirmed that an emergency landing had been made； and that
Confessor Wollkenden was alive。 The message was interrupted。 There has been no word since then。
The area in which the confessor’s ship came down was a forest； until it fell to Chaos forces three
and a half years ago。 Since then； of course； conditions on the ground have changed considerably。
Intelligence is sparse； but we know that there has been a great deal of glacial activity in the area；
which has rendered much of it almost impassable… Almost。” At this； Gavotski gave the Termite a
proud pat。
“Of course； it is possible that Confessor Wollkenden is dead。 Our job； comrades； is to find out
for sure； and； if he is alive； to bring him back。 The Imperial Guard cannot spare the resources for a
full…scale search and rescue at present — and it is felt anyway that a stealthy extraction has more
chance of success。 That is why Colonel Steele and I are taking only one squad through the glaciers；
and it is why each of you has been chosen： because your respective commanders tell us that you are
the best the Valhallan 319th has to offer。”
“Pardon me； sergeant；” said Trooper Borscz； “but are we to understand that Colonel Steele is to
lead this mission？”
“That is correct； soldier；” said Gavotski。 “You have a problem with that？”
“No； sergeant。” In fact； Borscz seemed positively enthused by the idea； and he looked at Steele
with admiration blazing in his deep blue eyes。
The colonel cleared his throat； and said； “There is one thing that Sergeant Gavotski has not yet
mentioned。” It was the first time the troopers had heard his voice； and each of them became visibly
more attentive。 “You are aware；” said Steele； “that Cressida