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the recycled air。
“…on account of it being classified as a deathworld！” concluded the sergeant—and this time； the
cheer went on much longer and louder。
“It’s a crock； that’s what it is。”
Lorenzo was sharing a mess hall table with four other members of his squad。 He looked down at
his bowl gloomily； and let a dollop of over…processed grey mulch slide from his spoon。 Another
thing he hated： Imperial Guard rations。 If he’d been planetside； he’d have found something—some
herb or spice—to make them more palatable。 Or someone would have hunted down some
indigenous beast； and his squad would have feasted on meat。
Lorenzo considered not eating at all until he had made planetfall。 But on top of his disturbed
sleep patterns； the last thing he needed was to let his energy levels dip。 He gathered another
spoonful； thrust it into his mouth and tried to swallow without tasting it。
“Stone Face got it right；” continued Sergeant “Old Hardhead” Greiss in his gravelly voice。 “This
is just another wet…nursing mission for a bunch of city boys who got in over their heads。 You tell
me； how can a planet go from being colony material one day to deathworld the next？ It can’t
happen！”
“I don’t know； sergeant；” said Brains Donovits； his thick black eyebrows beetling as his brow
furrowed。 “I’ve been keeping an eye on the comms traffic； and the latest report from the commissars
on the ground makes for pretty interesting reading。 They’ve had some real problems out there。”
“Yeah；” put in Hotshot Woods； his blue eyes sparkling as he suppressed a grin； “and you know
Command wouldn’t send us in without good reason； sergeant。 They know what they’re doing。”
Greiss shot the young trooper a stern glare through narrowed eyes。 It only lasted a second；
though； before he dropped the pretence and let out a bark of laughter； slapping Woods amiably on
the back。
“It’ll be the same old story；” grumbled the grizzled sergeant as his good humour subsided。
“Things not going too well at the front； orks getting too close to Command HQ for the top brass’
liking。 The next thing you know； some officer’s been stung by a bloodwasp or got himself a nettle
rash； or… or…”
“Got his foot tangled in a poison creeper；” suggested Steel Toe Dougan in his usual laid…back
tone。
“Suddenly； he’s screaming ‘Deathworld！’”
“There has also been some mention。” Donovits continued undeterred； “of abnormalities in Rogar
III’s planetary readings。 The Adeptus Mechanicus went in to investigate； but found nothing。 Nothing
but orks； anyhow。”
“Ah； listen to Brains；” scoffed Greiss。 “Never happy “less he’s got his nose in some report or
other。”
Donovits shrugged。 “It pays to be forewarned； sergeant。”
“And since when did Navy reports tell you anything worth reading？ The only place you get to
know your enemy； trooper； is down there on its surface； in the thick of the jungle。 Man against
nature。”
Lorenzo felt something stirring in his chest at Greiss’ words。 He’d been feeling less edgy since
they’d dropped out of the warp into real space； for the final approach to their destination； but still he
longed to escape this prison。 It was almost worse； knowing that release was so close。 Time seemed
to have slowed down for him。 Lorenzo knew the others were restless； too； chafing for action。 He
didn’t know if they shared his sense of unease； if the warp had affected them as it had him； and he
wouldn’t ask。 There were some things you didn’t talk about。
7
“I don’t know； sergeant；” said Woods。 “There were times on that last world I wished I had
stayed curled up on a bedroll with a good book。 Might have made for more thrills； if you know what
I mean。”
“Got a point there； Hotshot；” laughed Greiss。 “I could almost have felt sorry for them… what
were they called？”
“Rhinoceraptors；” prompted Donovits。
“Yeah； right。 Few frag grenades under their hide plates； and boom！ Didn’t know what’d hit
them。 A couple o” squads could’ve taken out the lot of ’em。 Hell； Marbo could probably have done
it on his own。”
“He wouldn’t have thanked us for wasting his time； though。”
“You’re right there； Hotshot。”
“Of course；” said Dougan； quietly； “they did get Bryznowski。”
Greiss sighed。 “Yes。 They did get Bryznowski。 Heard we lost a few of the ogryns； too。”
“And that rookie from Bulldog’s squad；” said Dougan； easing himself back in his chair so he
could stretch out his bionic leg。 It had taken a hit a couple of worlds ago； and now it had a tendency
to seize up if he didn’t keep it exercised。
There was a short silence as the five soldiers remembered fallen comrades； then Greiss’ craggy
features folded into a scowl。
“Way things are going；” he grumbled； “I’m going to end up dying in my damn bed！” He waved
aside Woods and Donovits’ well…intentioned protests。 “Come off it； you lot。 I’m thirty…six years old
next birthday。 Leaving it a bit late for that blaze of glory。 But that’s okay。 I made my mark。 I just
want to go out the right way； that’s all。 Been too long since I had a scrap I couldn’t sleepwalk
through。 Long time since I faced a deathworld worthy of the name。”
“Maybe you should put in for a posting back home；” said Dougan； sympathetically。 “Back to
Catachan。 Stone Face will understand。 He’s coming up to the big three…oh himself。”
Lorenzo was aware that； by Imperial standards； Colonel Graves was a young man； and Greiss
and Dougan only middle…aged。 But then； most Imperial citizens didn’t grow up on Catachan。 Life
there was shorter。
“Ah； I couldn’t leave you jokers。 But it’s the youngsters I feel sorry for。 Like Lorenzo here。
How’s he going to make a name for himself if he never sets foot on a world worth taming？”
Lorenzo looked up from his meal； to grunt an acknowledgement of the name check。 He didn’t
reveal how much it smarted。 Greiss would never have called Hotshot Woods a “youngster”； and
Lorenzo was two years older than he was。
“I got a name for Lorenzo；” quipped Woods。 “Why don’t we call him ‘Chatterbox’ Lorenzo？ Or
‘Never Shuts His Yap’ Lorenzo？”
Lorenzo glared at him。
Greiss pushed his bowl aside； and hauled himself to his feet。 “All right； men；” he said； his voice
suddenly full of confidence and authority。 “You heard what Colonel Graves said。 Drop positions by
17。30 hours。”
“The colonel said 18。30； sergeant。”
“That’s for the rest of those slackers； Donovits。 My squad forms up at 17。30 sharp。 Fifty deck
reps； a few circuits of the deck—that should loosen up the muscles； get the adrenaline pumping。
Then； when we get down to this ‘deathworld’； we’re going to tear through it like it was nothing；
show those Guardsmen down there a thing or two。 This time tomorrow； we’ll be back in warp space；
headed for somewhere worth the sweat！”
Lorenzo greeted the prospect with mixed feelings。
The whole of Third Company could have fitted into one drop ship with room to spare。 Instead；
Colonel Graves had ordered them to split up； one platoon to a ship。 That meant only one thing。 He
8
was expecting trouble on the way down。 Better to lose a few squads and have the rest arrive intact
than to risk losing all twenty…two to a lucky shot。
The five squads in Lorenzo’s ship had separated to the edges of the troop deck； sitting in their
own small clusters in the rows of narrow seats。 It wasn’t that they didn’t get on； just that
Deathworlders found it best to make no more attachments than they had to。 They were too easily
broken。 Lorenzo had no friends； but he had something better。 He had nine comrades； who would die
for him in a heartbeat and he for them。
The shadowy spaces around the cramped seating area were empty； apart from a dusty Sentinel
scout walker tucked into one。 The Catachans carried little more equipment than would fit into their
kit bags—and those bags stayed with them； nestled in their laps or deposited on an adjacent seat。
Lorenzo pictured the four ships streaking towards the surface of Rogar III； blazing with the heat of
re…entry； like meteors from the heavens。 He wondered how many Guardsmen on the ground would
turn their heads upwards and thank the Emperor for sending them such an omen。 The thought made