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there they can mine and use against us。 Probably hollow out this whole planet before they admit
defeat。”
“Emperor help us if they do find something；” murmured Armstrong。
“So what now？” asked Storm—and Lorenzo recognised the impatient gleam in his eyes。 “The
odds are way better than they were two nights ago； and this time we have the advantage of surprise。
We come out firing； we’ll have half those greenskins down before they know what’s hit them。”
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“I don’t care about ‘half those greenskins’；” growled Greiss。 “We’re here for one reason； and
one reason only—and I didn’t see anyone out there answering Big Green’s description。”
“There were no huts。” Braxton realised。 “Where do these orks live？”
“Another encampment； somewhere nearby？” hazarded Myers。
“Your job to find out；” said Greiss。 “When I give the word； you take a scout round that clearing；
see if there’s any wheel tracks or evidence of orks tramping to and fro。 My guess is； there won’t be。
I reckon these greenskins have taken their equipment and their beds underground； into the mine
itself。”
“So； getting to their boss won’t be as easy as it sounded；” added Myers。
“He’s got to show his face on the surface sometime；” opined Braxton。
“Has he？” said Armstrong； cynically。
“Normally； I’d say wait；” said Greiss。 “Set up sniper positions； sit it out for a few days； let our
target come to us。 But this is Rogar III。 We sit around here too long； we don’t know what it’s going
to throw at us。”
“If we go into that mine with all guns blazing；” said Armstrong； “Big Green will know about
it—and I’m betting； if he’s half as smart as Mackenzie reckoned； he won’t let himself be cornered in
there。”
“Something else for you to keep an eye out for； Bullseye；” said Greiss； “on your reconnoitre： a
back way in—though if there is one； it’s probably kilometres away； and well hidden。 No； I’ve a
feeling in my old bones： the only way we’re getting in sniffing distance of our man is if we barge in
the front door。 Question is； how to do it without tipping off the warboss that we’re coming？”
Twenty minutes later； Lorenzo was lying flat on his face in the grass； having mud slapped onto his
back by his comrades—some of them； he thought； with a little too much relish。 He protested as
Storm tried to tie a branch into his hair with clumsy fingers； but succeeded only in poking him in the
eye。
Finally； Sergeant Greiss suggested he try standing； and Lorenzo did so； helped to his feet by
Braxton。 A heap of vegetation crashed to the ground around his feet； and he looked at Armstrong；
upon whom similar indignities had been heaped； and stifled a laugh。
It took another ten minutes’ work to achieve anything like the effect they wanted。 Lorenzo and
Armstrong remained standing for this final stage； and Lorenzo watched admiringly as his comrade
disappeared beneath layer after layer of dirt。 Much of it didn’t stick； and even now some patches of
Armstrong’s skin showed through； but that didn’t matter so much。 A garland of plants had been
knotted together and draped around Armstrong’s shoulders； from a distance； it might have looked
like the leaves were growing out of him。 The likeness wasn’t perfect； but even Lorenzo had to
suppress a shudder； staring now at a figure that reminded him of the zombies that had almost killed
them all。 Of course； although he couldn’t see it； didn’t dare tilt his head for fear of dislodging its
dressings； he knew he had undergone a similar transformation。
Greiss cast an appraising eye over his two troopers； and announced that they were ready。 “At
least；” he added； “I’d say we’ve done as much as we can with you。 I suggest you stick to the
shadows at the edge of the clearing； and—I don’t know—try and puff yourselves up a bit； stick your
shoulders out。 You’re supposed to be orks under all that muck。 Pair of scrawny buggers like you
two； you’ll be lucky to pass for gretchin。”
“So long as the greenskins don’t pick ’em as Catachans； eh； sergeant？” said Myers。 He had
surprised everyone by producing two ork guns from his backpack； now he pressed one into
Lorenzo’s hands； and the other into Armstrong’s。 “Here； this should help keep up the illusion。”
“You got any more of them； Bullseye？” asked Greiss。
“Afraid not； sergeant。 Just picked up two at the encampment； for a rainy day。 I loaded ’em both
up； though。”
92
“Rest of us will have to make do with lasguns； then。 We let Patch and Lorenzo start firing first；
and with a bit of luck the orks won’t think about it in the confusion。”
It sounded like a risky plan。 For a start； the Jungle Fighters were relying upon the likelihood that
the orks had had their own encounters with the plant zombies。 “When they start falling。” Greiss had
said； “we want them to think that that’s who’s behind it： their own living dead。 So； no heroics。
We’re just going to pick off a few sentries； narrow the odds against us and fall back； no more than
that。”
Greiss； Myers； Storm and Braxton slipped away to their positions then； and left Lorenzo and
Armstrong standing； looking at each other。 Lorenzo hoped that Armstrong； with all he’d been
through； was up to this—but when Greiss had expressed a similar sentiment； the veteran had
snapped that he had lost an eye and an arm； not the use of his legs or his brain。
They waited two minutes as arranged； then began to shuffle toward the lights and the sounds of
ork voices。 It was easier than Lorenzo had expected to replicate the zombies’ stiff； unnatural gait： it
came naturally to him； so worried was he about shedding his disguise before it was even put to use。
They split up as they neared the clearing； Armstrong going right； Lorenzo left。 He saw no sign of
his other comrades； but he knew they were nearby。 He drew in a deep breath and stepped out into
the open； stopping just short of the footprint of the nearest lantern。 The nearest ork sentry was a little
closer than he’d anticipated； and he squeezed the trigger of his gun and sent a hail of bullets its way。
Somewhere to Lorenzo’s right； the chatter of a second ork gun echoed his own。
The ork was coming at him； snarling； foaming at the mouth。 It must have known it was dead； but
it was using its body as a shield； giving its fellows time to react to the intruders in their midst。 There
was every chance that if it could cling to life long enough to reach Lorenzo； it could do some real
damage。 He took a step back； but he couldn’t display too much speed or agility for fear of exposing
his deception。 All he could do was keep shooting； and pray。
Then the ork fell； and the clearing was full of answering fire； then the whines of las…bolts
shooting in from positions unknown； and there were four more orks coming Lorenzo’s way and it
was time to get the hell out of there。
It took all the self…control he could muster not to duck or run—to turn his back and to shamble
away； hearing ork feet pounding ever closer； making himself a clear target for an agonising second。
A bullet whistled by his ear； another blew a clump of mud from his shoulder and grazed his skin。
Then Lorenzo rounded a bush； passed out of his enemies’ sight； and abandoned all pretence。
He left a trail of debris behind him as he raced through the jungle； he just hoped his pursuers
wouldn’t recognise it for what it was。 He put as many obstacles as he could between him and them。
The orks were snarling and howling； and letting off gunfire in random directions； so he knew they
wouldn’t hear him； as long as they didn’t see him either； they should assume he had sunk
underground like Rogar’s other zombies。 In theory； at least。
The explosions came in quick succession—two of them。 The orks had run into their own traps；
the positions of the tripwires changed by Greiss and Myers。 Some of them would have died。 It was
still too early to tell； though； if the rest of the plan—the important part—had succeeded。
There was mud in Lorenzo’s eyes and mouth； but he had reached his rendezvous point with the
rest of his squad。 He was the first there。 He clawed great handfuls of dirt from his face； breathed
deeply of the warm night air and coughed up a leaf。 He was