Imperial Navy。”
“Yes； father；” Marcinon said； evidently ill at ease。
“Right。 Navy。 No authority over the Imperial Guard whatsoever。”
“None；” said Marcinon； his teeth gritted； suddenly aware of where this was going。
“Then shut up；” said Kautas。 “The Phantine fliers are Imperial Guard。 An exception。 An oddity。
Their world is—how can I put it—just sky。 So when they raise Guard fundings； most of them are
airborne。 They’re not Navy。 Not now； never will be。 You have no jurisdiction。”
“Thank you for enlightening us； father；” Marcinon said。 “Commander Jagdea？”
“I think it’s all been said； sir；” she replied。 “The Phantine XX are Imperial Guard。 We stand
here； on this world； willing and eager to fly alongside the fine aviators of the Navy； in a cooperative
venture for the good of mankind。 In the spirit of that cooperation； I accept your censure and offer my
apologies。 But please do not presume to lecture me again。 It would open a can of worms； sirs； and
likely involve the offices of the Lord Militant and the Commissariat。 Our lives are too full and too
urgent for such wasteful complications。”
She saluted and turned on her heels。
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DAY 263
The Makanites； 13。33
The previous day； fate—or the beneficence of the God…Emperor of Man—had decreed them clear
passage up through the cold winding passes through the mountains。 Not a hint of war had touched
them； not an auspex contact； not even the distant murmur of a warplane overhead。 Their flasks and
cans replenished with cool； brackish water from mountain rills； they had raced ahead； buoyed with a
sense of sudden expectation and hope。 At nightfall； where previously LeGuin had ordered a rest stop
to take advantage of the lower temperatures； they had pressed on； edging on through the dark；
grinding along the bottoms of gorges and rock cuts； thundering up across pebble…strewn slopes。
At some hour after midnight； the column passed over the spine of the mountains at a place called
Ragnar’s Cut； and began its descent into the broad foothills of the north。
Viltry rode with the Line of Death。 He had been offered the place of a gunner killed on the road
some days before。 He wasn’t expected to perform any tasks。 He was simply a passenger。
LeGuin took a turn driving in the mid…period； to relieve the weary Emdeen。 Emdeen climbed
into the commander’s turret seat and immediately fell asleep。 In the bare…metal rocker…seat of the
sponson below； Viltry found slumber harder to achieve。 The noise of the Pardus tank was ferocious；
and its motion far more violent than any plane； even under bad turbulence。 It was a vibration； a
shaking； not at all like the fluid variances of flight。 Loose rocks thrown up by the treads clattered
against the heavy hull and the track guards。 It was hot； despite the night…chill outside； and the moist
air reeked of smoke and oil and unwashed flesh。 There was also nothing to see。 The night was
moonless； the dark enclosing。 The convoy elements moved with hooded lamps。 Within the tank；
there was merely the red cabin light and the glow of the thick…glassed displays。
When LeGuin called out that they had at last passed over the top of the Makanite Ridge； Viltry
simply had to take the tanker’s word for it。
Dawn came in； grey and heavy。 Emdeen resumed his driving； and LeGuin and Viltry sat in the
turret with the hatches open。 The air； cold and damp and filled with exhaust from the long line of
trundling machines； was at least refreshing after the stuffy interior。
There was still very little to see。
The trail curled down through bare； grey foothills； snaking through a boulder…strewn landscape
that seemed devoid of natural growth。 Mist choked the valley beyond； stealing away any distant
view。 Behind them； the Makanites were towers of shadow against a bleached； starved sky。
The sun rose； but the mist refused to clear； and they bore on down into a layer of haze and poor
visibility。
They passed by three Imperial troop trucks； abandoned by the side of the track； evidence of a
previous column fleeing this way； and then； at about ten； overhauled the tail end of it。 It was twice
the size of LeGuin’s contingent； and moving much more slowly。
They fell in pace with it。 LeGuin moved his machine right to the head of his section of the
formation； and made vox contact with the second column’s leaders。 From the exchanges Viltry
could overhear； their new companions were travelling under the same sort of ad hoc command as
LeGuin’s segment。 Proper lines of command through the tank and infantry forces had long since
been lost。 It appeared the tankers like LeGuin—due to the fact that they were now the defending
escort of thousands of truck…bound troops—were calling the shots by necessity。
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LeGuin seemed particularly pleased to hear that several tank crews from his own regiment were
riding with the other column。 He exchanged tart； joking vox conversations with a captain called
Woll。
“Good to hear his voice；” LeGuin said to Viltry as he settled the vox…horn back onto its cradle。
“I’d heard rumours that Old Strontium had been destroyed at the Trinity Gates。 The old rascal。”
Viltry understood LeGuin’s delight。 He too would have been happy to hear from old friends
presumed dead。
Not that it was going to happen。
The mist began to thin； but the day did not lighten。 They had reached sparse forest； and the
limits of what seemed to be a metalled roadway。 The valley of the Lida； heading down all the way to
the coast。
Others had come this way before them。 There were more abandoned vehicles on or by the road；
many stripped of equipment。 They passed a number of farm stations and agro…complexes that had
been deserted by their inhabitants； possibly weeks before。 The places had been comprehensively
looted of all stock。 Store…barns and silos were empty； habs ransacked or burned out。 Livestock pens
and the huge tin rotundas of poultry hatcheries were broken down and empty。
In some fields； they sighted rows of fresh graves。
The road approached the river； following its course。 More ruined farms stood along its banks；
homesteads and land…parcel stations； then a whole village； empty and gutted。
At noon； they came up on a line of burned…out； exploded vehicle wrecks； jumbled along
kilometres of road that had been badly holed and cratered。 The action was at least three days old。
Tanks with dozer blades； and the few remaining Atlas tractors； had to clear some of the wrecks aside
to permit progress。 It had been an air…strike； Viltry could see all the signs。
After that damage became more commonplace。 The remains of other convoy elements littered
further shot…up sections of highway。 Unburied； blackened corpses lay in the roadside ditches。 More
bodies； swollen； floated face…down in the pools of a ruined roadside hydroponics system。 All of the
next three townships had been bombed to extinction by heavy raids rather than just looted and
forsaken。
This was now an eerie； miserable landscape to drive through。 Thousands of hectares of fieldsystems
had been burned black by uncontrolled firebomb damage。 Farms； villages； entire townships
had been levelled。 There were stretches of forest where nothing remained but blast…splintered trunks
protruding from cindered earth。 Craters； many filled with rainwater； punctured the landscape for
kilometres。 Smashed hydroponic systems leaked rivers of algae…rich soup down across the roadway
from ruptured dykes。 The column moved on； hissing water up into the air。
It was no longer mist that stained the sky； it was smoke residue from the days of raiding and
firedust kicked up by their wheels and tracks。 Down the wide； wounded valley； their scopes
identified other communities shelled to death； wreathed with the grey vapour of firestorms that had
blazed； unchecked； for days。
At 13。33； an alert was given。 Ten kilometres north； bright flashes underlit the clouds； and they
heard the crump of munitions。 A few minutes later； a formation of enemy warplanes was sighted
heading south at medium altitude。 The machines； their payloads already dropped； ignored the
straggling column； but there was no doubt they had been sighted。 The contact would be called in。
The Imperial column had begun crossing a miraculously unscathed bridge over a Lidan
tributary； just after 14。00； when a second alert came through。
It had started to rain； and the auspex refused to give a clean track。 An air of confusion and panic
rose in the convoy around them。 LeGuin cleared his weapon batteries； and then got on the vox。
“Say again。 Track reading。 Confirm track reading for hostiles。”
Just frantic chatter。
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“Come on！” LeGuin snarled into the vox。 “This is Line of Death！ Give me a track reading！ Get it
together！”
Viltry opened the top hatch and craned up at the overcast sky； smelling the cold； wet air；
listening。 The sound of agitated voices came from all around； throbbing engines； the noise of turret
motors as weapons traversed； the timpani of rain pattering off the armour。
And there； concealed behind it all； the warble of vector…thrust engines。 Viltry glanced anxiously
down at LeGuin。
“What？” LeGuin asked； standing up。
“Hear it？”
“Where？ Wait… yes。 It’s ahead of us。”
“No；” said Viltry。 “That’s an acoustic bounce off the valley。 It’s behind us。”
LeGuin instantly began spinning the Executioner’s turret to face rear。
“Get us off the bridge！” he yelled at Emdeen。
“Get moving！” Viltry shouted from the hatch to the trucks all around。 “Come on！ Clear the way！
Get these vehicles rolling！”
Over two…thirds of the column had still to cross the bridge’s ancient pilings。
Viltry heard a change in the vector note。
“Here they come！” he yelled。
Someone back down the convoy had at last got a decent track too。 From the end of the long line
of vehicles forward； weapon mounts began to fire at the sky。 Pintle…weapons； elevated cannons； the
few Hydra platforms still carrying munitions。 Small…arms opened up as well； men standing up in the
back of trucks to unload las…rifles into the sky。 Hundreds of other Guardsmen； unarmed or too
scared to make such a bold defiance； scrambled out of their transports and ran for cover in the trees
and amongst the reed beds of the tributary。
The firing was intense。 The