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there was a catch。 The mother of all marsh sharks。 It hunted by radar； could detect a ripple on the
surface from ten kilometres。 The span of its jaws was wider than you are tall。 Sharkbait—he was
just Trooper Muldoon then—took a Sentinel in。 You saw them at the camp： armoured hunter…killer
machines。 Chainsaws； flamers… We use them when we don’t exactly care about being subtle。 But
this Sentinel got its leg jammed in the mud； came crashing right down。 And the marsh shark was
there； of course； peeling back the outsides of the crew compartment like a tin opener。 It got Reed；
swallowed him whole。 But Muldoon…
27
We were firing our lasguns from the bank。 The shots just glanced off this monster； gave it no
more than a bad case of sunburn。 Muldoon was lying there； pinned by the wreckage； going under；
and this shark was rearing over him； coming in for the kill。 We thought he was a goner。 Then； calm
as you like； he just reached into its mouth； slung a whole pack of frag grenades down its throat。
We didn’t even hear the explosion； the damn thing’s hide was so thick。 But suddenly； it was
thrashing and groaning like it had the worst case of bellyache in history。 Then it went down。 Greiss
and me； we went in and pulled Muldoon out of the mud。 He was lucky not to have lost an arm—or a
head。 If that shark had snapped its teeth shut just a fraction of a second sooner… I don’t recall a
discussion。 We all knew ‘Sharkbait’ Muldoon had earned his name； that day。”
“That’s important to you people； isn’t it？” said Braxton。 “Earning your name。 I’ve heard
Hotshot； Old Hardhead—and they call you Steel Toe； right？”
“Another story；” said Dougan； “for another day。”
“And ‘Sly’ Marbo？”
“Never been quite sure about that one；” Dougan confessed； “if it’s an earned name or a given
name or just something he’s picked up along the way。 Seems to suit him fine； though。 What’s with
all the questions； son？”
“Eagle & Bolter；” said Braxton。 “Just wanted a bit of background info for my piece。 Everyone
knows what you Jungle Fighters do； but no one really knows all that much about you。 I thought； if I
could tell them what life’s like where you come from—Catachan； right？—there might be a few less；
uh； misunderstandings。”
Dougan nodded。 “A word of advice； son。 Not everyone likes to talk。 Oh； stick around long
enough and you’ll hear all the old war stories； all right—but you start probing someone like Old
Hardhead about his past； and he’s liable to probe you in return。 With his bayonet； in your guts。”
Braxton fell silent for a time； after that。 But it wasn’t long before he turned to Lorenzo； and
asked the question the Catachan had been dreading。
“So； what’s your earned name； Lorenzo？”
“Don’t have one。” Lorenzo said。 Not that he had anything to be ashamed of。 “Not yet。”
Armstrong was the first to hear them。 He froze； listening； and the others did the same one by one。
Footsteps； crashing through the undergrowth。 A guttural grunt that could only have been formed
by a larynx。 There was somebody nearby。 Several somebodies—and not bothering to hide their
presence。 Braxton turned to Lorenzo； and mouthed silently； “Marbo？” Lorenzo shook his head。
A second later； the Catachans had melted into their background—and Lorenzo saw the
confusion in Braxton’s face as he turned to find himself standing alone。 Lorenzo himself had slipped
behind a tree trunk and was hugging its contours。 Muldoon had chosen the same hiding place； and
was crouched down beside him。 From close up； Lorenzo could see that Muldoon was running a
fever。 His bandana was soaked with sweat； and his breathing was hoarse and ragged。
Storm lay flat on the ground nearby。 He had arranged a few creepers across himself； breaking up
the lines of his body so that its patterns blended perfectly with those of the foliage。 From any further
away； and most other angles； he would have been invisible。 Indeed； to Lorenzo； the rest of the
Catachans were invisible。 He could make out only one other outline—that of Commissar
Mackenzie； trying to conceal himself behind a blossoming nettle plant。
Guardsman Braxton caught on； and ducked under cover himself。
More footsteps； and the rustling of leaves。 Whatever was out there； they were coming closer。
Eight or nine of them； Lorenzo now estimated。 Too small； too nimble； to be the muscular； lumbering
orks。 Gretchin； most likely。 Genetic cousins to the orks—smaller； weaker； subservient； but far more
cunning。 If they realised they were outnumbered； they were likely to scatter and run； take word to
their masters。
28
There was no urgency to their movements。 Chances were； they didn’t know they had enemies
nearby。 The gretchin were probably just out foraging—but they might get lucky。 Thick as the jungle
was； they wouldn’t see the Catachans’ trail of severed tendrils and uprooted plants unless they
stumbled right onto it。 It sounded to Lorenzo； though； like they were within a bloodwasp’s length of
doing just that。
Suddenly； somebody slammed into him from behind。
Lorenzo was taken by surprise； winded。 No mean feat—but then this attack had come from the
last direction he’d expected。 From a comrade； a man he’d entrusted with his life countless times； and
who was now bearing him down into the dirt； eyes ablaze with madness； a black knife raised to
strike at Lorenzo’s throat。
Muldoon was trying his best to kill him。
And he was screaming with incoherent fury as he did so—a sound that could hardly have failed
to reach the gretchin’s ears。
29
CHAPTER FIVE
Muldoon was bigger and stronger than Lorenzo； and certainly heavier。 Lorenzo was pinned to the
ground by his weight； the jungle grass now growing above his head； rough against his neck and his
cheeks。 His right arm； and his Catachan fang in its sheath； were trapped under Muldoon’s knees。 All
he could do was strike out with his left elbow； knocking his attacker’s knife hand aside。
Muldoon’s night reaper was smaller than Lorenzo’s fang； but just as deadly。 Its blade was
triangular； shaped to leave a large entrance wound that wouldn’t clot—and knowing Muldoon it was
almost certainly poisoned。 Probably with the venom of a jungle lizard。 He was always the first of the
Catachans to turn a deathworld’s threats to his advantage。
Lorenzo kicked out with both feet； trying to unseat Muldoon； but Muldoon knew too well how to
spread his weight to maintain his balance。 That knife hand was coming around to strike again。
Muldoon loomed over Lorenzo； his unshaven features crazed with blind fury； his eyes wide； white；
unblinking。 There was no point talking to him； in appealing to reason。 He was too far gone。 There
was no way to know what was going on in Muldoon’s head； what those insect bites were making
him see； but Lorenzo would have laid odds he didn’t even recognise his old comrade right now。 He
was fighting his own daemons。
He couldn’t afford to hold back。 He found Muldoon’s face with his free hand and dug his
fingernails into his eyes。 Momentarily blinded； Muldoon threw back his head and let out an
uncharacteristic howl of pain and rage。 Lorenzo pulled his right arm free； twisted out of the path of a
badly aimed knife blow and seized Muldoon’s wrist in his left hand。 He tried to shake Muldoon’s
grip on his weapon； but his fingers were locked around its haft。 As Muldoon lashed out again；
Lorenzo guided his thrust and buried the night reaper’s blade in the ground beside his head。
If Muldoon had been in his right mind； he would have abandoned the knife until it was safe to
retrieve it。 Working on primal instinct； however； he only knew the night reaper was a part of him；
his most important possession； and he all but forgot about Lorenzo as he struggled to reclaim it from
the unyielding earth。 Lorenzo crawled out from beneath him； and tackled him side…on。 He hurled
blow after blow at Muldoon’s head； praying each time that the next one would be the one to put him
down； knowing he was made of sterner stuff than that。 He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop
him without inflicting a lasting injury。
Lorenzo could have drawn his own knife。 He could reach it now。 Against any other foe； he
would have done it。 He would have ended this。
Blood rushed in his ears； dulling his senses。 He could hear； though； that the rest of his squad had
broken cover。 They were slashing and beating their way through the jungle； regardless of the danger
from hostile flora or more insect hives； toward the gretchin。 The creatures couldn’t help but hear
them coming； and they turned and fled back up the path they had cleared for themselves。
Muldoon must have been in pain； near senseless； but he was fighting back。 Lorenzo would have
expected no less from him。 Fortunately； his fever slowed his reaction time； and Lorenzo ducked the
worst of his punches。
Help came； at last； in the form of Dougan。 The older trooper knew his bionic leg slowed him
down； and so it was natural that he should have been the one to stay behind。 Dougan came up
behind Muldoon； and tried to restrain him while Lorenzo knocked the wind out of him with a double
jab to the solar plexus。 He remembered head…butting a Validian Guardsman the previous day；
30
finding his stomach soft and yielding； in contrast； hitting Muldoon was like driving his knuckles into
rock。
Muldoon let out another animal roar； and broke Dougan’s hold。 Lorenzo held back for an
instant； waiting to see what he’d do。 Muldoon looked wildly from one of his comrades to the other；
realising he was surrounded。 His eyes flicked towards his night reaper； still buried in the ground； but
it was too far away。 Muldoon reached into a pouch of his bandolier and pulled out a demolition
charge。
b； he popped out the charge’s pin。
Lorenzo and Dougan hit him at the same time； from opposite sides。 Dougan was trying to
wrestle the charge out of Muldoon’s hand； but his grip was as resolute as that on his night reaper had
been。 Lorenzo’s survival instinct was telling him to dive for shelter； but he wasn’t about to abandon
Muldoon while there was the slightest chance he could be saved。 He added his strength to Dougan’s；
taking one of Muldoon’s fingers in each fist and forcing them open。
The demolition charge dropped out of Muldoon’s hand。
Lorenzo had to dive for it； cradling his palms to give the explosive device the softest landing he
could。 In so doing； he left himself exposed； and Muldoon punished him with a brutal kick to the
face。 Lorenzo felt his lip splitting。 He rolled with the blow； and was back in the grass again； his own
blood on his tongue。 But Dougan was keeping Muldoon busy； keeping him from pressing his
advantage； and Lorenzo had the charge with—he estimated—less than a second to spare before it
went up。
He hoisted himself onto one elbow； took a fraction of that second to orient himself； to check
where the others were； then he put all the strength he had into an overarm throw。 The demolition
charge seemed to have barely left his hand； arcing towards the treetops； when it burst and showered
him with hot shrapnel。
Dougan had locked an arm around Muldoon’s throat； and was holding on despite his kicking and
screaming。 Lack of oxygen had an effect on the frenzied trooper at last； and Muldoon’s eyelids
fluttered and closed。 Dougan waited a moment longer before he relinquished his grip。 A flicker of
regret crossed his face as Muldoon’s legs buckled beneath him and he crashed into the undergrowth。
Lorenzo and Dougan drew their Catachan fangs； cut down a couple of thin vines and bound their
unconscious comrade’s wrists and ankles with them。 Lorenzo yanked the night reaper out of the
ground； and respectfully returned it to its sheath。 Even with Muldoon in this state； he couldn’t
deprive him of his knife—though he ensured that his tied hands couldn’t reach it。
Lorenzo could hear las…fire through the foliage； and he knew the rest of his squad were close on
the heels of their prey。
Myers and Storm were the first back from the gretchin hunt。 They were followed by Donovits and
Armstrong。
“How is he？” asked the one…eyed veteran； nodding in Muldoon’s direction。 He must have seen
the start of the fight； and deduced the reason for it。
Dougan shrugged。 “Hard to tell。 His feve