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turn their heads upwards and thank the Emperor for sending them such an omen。 The thought made
him feel good。 It almost made him forget that he hadn’t touched ground himself yet。
There had been a reallocation of troops a few days earlier。 The commander of C Platoon；
Lieutenant Vines； had disbanded one squad and reassigned its members to bring the rest up to
strength。 Greiss’ squad had two new arrivals to complete its complement often—and old hands
Myers and Storm were currently passing the time by quizzing one of them； a nervy youngster by the
name of Landon。
Landon was eager to please； bragging about a time back on Catachan when he’d wrestled a
blackback viper single…handed。 Myers and Storm were pretending to be impressed； but Lorenzo
knew they were poking fun at the rookie。
The other newcomer； Patch Armstrong； had an easier ride。 It had taken an ambush by four ice
apes on the frozen world of Tundrar to deprive Armstrong of his left eye—and even then he had
snapped the spine of one beast； gutted two more and gunned down the fourth as it had fled。 The
patch he wore； and the crooked ends of the scar that protruded above and below it； were his badges
of honour。 Like Dougan’s leg； and the plate in Sergeant Greiss’ head。
The drop ship was being shaken。
It had only been a little at first； but now it was growing stronger。 Sharkbait Muldoon had rolled
up the left sleeve of his jacket to paint his own； better； camouflage pattern directly onto his skin；
layering on natural dyes with his knife； he let out a curse as the blade slipped and nicked his arm。
Lorenzo said nothing； but his fingers tightened around the armrests of his seat。
“Must be one hell of a storm；” commented Woods。 But Lorenzo observed that Greiss’ jaw was
set； his teeth clenched； his nostrils flaring； and he knew this was no mere storm。
Then； just like that； they were falling。
The drop ship plummeted like a brick； like it had when it had first been launched from its
mother。 Lorenzo’s stomach was in his mouth again； had he not been strapped in； he would have
been slammed into the ceiling。 Woods； cocky as ever； had loosened his own restraints； and now he
was fighting to hold himself down as g…forces rippled the skin of his cheeks。
For eight long seconds； Lorenzo was facing his worst nightmare。 Then the engines caught them
and they were flying level again； but still buffeted； the deck lurching unpredictably beneath their
feet。 Behind the din of the protesting hull； the soft； artificial voice of the navigation servitor sounded
over the vox…caster：
“Warning： extreme atmospheric turbulence encountered。 Destination coordinates no longer
attainable。 Prepare for emergency landing。 Repeat； prepare for emergency landing！”
The first impact came almost as soon as the warning was issued。
Lorenzo had barely had time to get into the brace position； his chin on his chest； his hands
clasped over his head。 It felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to every bone in his body at
once。 And then it happened again； with only marginally less force this second time。
9
The drop ship was skipping along the ground； its engines shrieking。 Lorenzo was rattled in his
seat； his straps biting into his chest。 He concentrated on keeping his muscles relaxed； despite the
situation； knowing that to resist the repeated shocks would do him more harm than good。
Then they hit the ground for the final time； but they were still barrelling forwards； and the scrape
of earth and branches against the outer hull was almost deafening。 Rogar III； as Donovits had taken
pleasure in informing everyone； was blanketed in jungle。 There were no open spaces in which to
land； but for those cleared with axe and flame。 Lorenzo pictured the scene outside the drop ship’s
hull now； as it ploughed through tangled vegetation； the servitors straining to rein in its speed before
it hit something that wouldn’t yield to its considerable mass。 Before it crumpled in on itself like a
ball of paper。
And then； at last； they were still； the engines letting out a last dying whine as the drop ship’s
superstructure creaked and settled。 The lighting flickered and cut out； and Lorenzo could see nothing
in the sudden total darkness。 But he knew his way to the hatchway； and his squad was the closest to
it。
The drop ship had come to rest at an angle。 The deck was tilted some forty…five degrees to the
horizontal； so Lorenzo had to climb to reach his goal。 He swung himself from one empty seat to the
next； using their backs to keep his balance and his bearings。 From all around； he could hear the
sounds of buckles popping and men leaping to their feet。
He was almost there when he realised he had been beaten to it。 The hatch had buckled a little
and was sticking in its frame； but Woods managed to shoulder it open even as Lorenzo was about to
lend him a hand。 First a crack； then a rectangle of brilliant light blazed in Lorenzo’s eyes； and he
blinked to clear the patterns it burnt into his retinas。
In the meantime； Woods had clambered out onto the angled side of the ship。 “Hey；” he called
down to the others enthusiastically。 “You’ve got to see this。 It’s a beautiful evening！”
Lorenzo frowned。 The upturned hatchway offered him the familiar sight of a jungle canopy—but
behind the greens and browns； the leaves and the branches； the sky appeared to be a perfect； deep
blue； free from cloud。 Woods was right。 If there had been a storm； it had passed； impossibly；
without trace。 But then； what else could have tossed the drop ship about like that？
It was there again： that sense of wrongness he had felt in the warp。 He needed to get out into the
open。 The rest of the platoon were crowding up behind him anyway； so Lorenzo followed the sweet
scent of fresh air； mingled though it was with the stench of burning。 He gripped the sides of the
hatchway and pulled himself up and out through it。
He had barely raised his head above the parapet and started to take in his new surroundings；
when Trooper Woods pushed him down again； with a warning yell： “Incoming！”
Three plants were shuffling towards the drop ship。 They looked like the mantraps of Catachan；
but taller。 Three bulbous pink heads； surely too heavy for their stalks to support； split open like
mouths。 No teeth within； though。 These plants were spitters。
Three jets of clear liquid plumed through the air。 Lorenzo and Woods tumbled back into the
drop ship together。 Woods had been hit； a thick gobbet of acid sizzling on his arm。 He whipped out
his knife—a devil claw； typically ostentatious—and half…cut； half…tore his sleeve away before it was
eaten through。 Still； the attack had left a livid red burn on his skin。
Somewhere； not far away； a carrion bird was screeching in delight。
“So； how’s it looking out there？” asked Greiss—and Lorenzo realised that the sergeant was
addressing him。
A smile tugged at his lips as he gave the traditional answer： “Reckon I’m going to like this
place； sergeant。 It reminds me of home！”
10
CHAPTER TWO
The air outside the hatch filled with acid spray again； and a few drops made it inside the ship。 The
Catachans withdrew from the danger area； those at the front yelling at the others to get back。
Lorenzo’s bandolier was splashed—only a little； but enough to leave a steaming hole in the fabric。
Sergeant Greiss had shouldered his way up to Lorenzo and Woods through the crush。 The
platoon commander was only a few steps behind him。 Lieutenant Vines was a quiet…voiced；
unassuming man—but； because he had earned his rank； been elected to it by his fellow Catachans；
they listened when he spoke。 He asked the two troopers to describe what they’d seen； and Woods
told him about the spitting plants。 “Three of them； sir；” Lorenzo confirmed； “at two o’clock。”
“Who’s your best marksman； sergeant？”
Without hesitation； Greiss answered； “Bullseye； sir。 Trooper Myers。” As he spoke； he seized the
shoulder of a wiry； dark…skinned man； and pulled him forward。
“You know what to do； Myers；” said Vines。
With a nod of understanding； Myers drew his lasgun。 He waited a few seconds to be sure it was
safe； then darted up to the sloping hatchway。
As soon as he popped his head up into the open；