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crumpled heap once more in the blood…splattered snow。
The daemon turned back towards him and stalked down the ramp； and Polio scrambled back
away from the monster； the heels of his boots slipping in the ice and snow。
Burias…Drak’shal felt the terror of the Imperial official wash over him like an intoxicating wave； and
he relished the sensation。 He wanted to kill the man； slowly and excruciatingly； but the rational side
of his mind knew that such a thing would anger Marduk； for his order had been clear。
He grinned as the man scrambled back away from him； a pathetic and futile attempt to escape。
With sheer force of will； he pushed Drak’shal back； and his features were once again his own；
pristine and unmarred； the bullet wound on his cheek already healed。 Blood caked his mouth and
chin； and he smiled at the man as he stepped towards him。
49
The engines of the shuttle roared behind him and the ramp began to close； and Burias swung his
head around； Drak’shal instantly rearing within him once more。
“Let none escape；” Marduk had ordered。
Burias…Drak’shal turned and leapt onto the shuttle； his talons biting deep into the reinforced hull。
He hauled himself hand over hand onto its top； and bounded across its fuselage until he was
positioned above the cockpit。
The shuttle began to lift just as the pilot registered the shadow looming above him； and Burias…
Drak’shal punched his fist through the glass； grabbing the man around his throat。 With one swift
motion he ripped the man’s throat away。
The shuttle tilted suddenly to the side； its landing gear scraping against rock as the dying pilot
fell across the controls。 Burias…Drak’shal bounded across the top of the shuttle as it slid over the
edge of the landing pad； its engines sending it into a death spin。
He hurled himself across the growing gap and landed in a crouch as the shuttle slammed into the
body of the aquila eagle…structure thirty metres below； and empted into a ball of fire。
He shook his head as he saw the wounded Imperial commander frantically punching a code into
the reinforced door that led back into the building； and bounded after the man。
The commander was slamming the door when Burias…Drak’shal reached it； and he smashed it
open with the palm of his hand。
The man； all hope of escape lost； collapsed on the floor of the office； staring up fearfully at him。
“Emperor curse you；” breathed the terrified man。
“Too late for that；” remarked Burias； slamming the door closed behind him。
50
CHAPTER SIX
Like a slowly rolling fortress of steel； the ice crawler moved across the ice flow； unaffected by the
gale force winds ripping across the desolate landscape。 Temperature gauges read that it was minus
forty standard； though with wind chill it was closer to minus seventy。 Banks of spotlights lit up the
ice directly in front of the colossal vehicle。 Fog rose from the moon’s surface and the wind sent
eddies of snow and ice particles ripping across the flows； rendering visibility almost non…existent。
The crawler was immense； over fifty metres long and almost twenty metres high。 Its wedgeshaped
hull sat upon eight sets of tracks； each more than five metres wide and powered by massive
engines。
High up within the control booth of the crawler； Foreman Primaris Solon Marcabus reclined on
his well…worn padded seat； his heavy boots up on the dash。 He sucked in a long drag on his lho stick
and closed his eyes。
“I’ve decided I don’t much like people；” Cholos said； from the steering rig。 “Too much damn
trouble。 I’ll take transporting ore yields over people any day。”
Solon grunted in response； exhaling a cloud of smoke。 The expansive cargo holds below were
filled to the brim with desperate evacuees。 Perdus Skylla was being abandoned in the face of
imminent xenos invasion； and it had fallen to the crews of the ice crawlers to aid in the evacuation。
In return； they would receive double pay for this ran。 Small comfort； thought Solon； if they didn’t
manage to secure a berth off…world。
The cabin was small and stuffy； and the stink of Solon’s ashtray； brimming with lho stubs； was
strong。 He was jolted back and forth as the crawler continued to make its way through the darkness；
but he was well used to that。 Rosary beads hung above Cholos； and they swung back and forth
wildly as the crawler drove slowly over an embankment。
“Guilders；” spat Cholos with a shake of his head； “think they are so much better than us。 Treat
us like shit all these years； but who is it that comes to bail them out？ Us。 And do we get a word of
thanks？ Nope。 Just complaints。 “It’s too cold； it’s too hot； there’s not enough room； the water tastes
funny’。 You’d think the bastards would be thankful。 Makes me sick。”
Solon grunted again。
“That sergeant； Folches； is the worst of ’em；” said Cholos。 “Left those people back there to die。
That is one cold son of a bitch。”
“Nice to hear I made an impression；” said a voice。
Cholos visibly jumped。 Solon sighed and slowly opened his eyes。 He dropped his feet from the
console dash and spun his chair around towards the door to the cabin； though he remained slouched。
He blew out a puff of smoke。
Sergeant Folches stood in the doorway； big and imposing in his black and white Interdiction
body plate。 He had removed his helmet； and his thick…featured face glared down at Solon。
“This is a restricted area； sergeant。 Rig personnel only；” said Solon。 “Be so kind as to get the hell
out。”
“How long till we get to the Phorcys spaceport？” asked Folches。
“In this storm？ Two and a half days； minimum；” said Solon。 The sergeant swore。
“The storm won’t lift before then？” he asked。
51
“You haven’t spent much time on the surface； have you？” asked Solon； taking another drag on
his lho stick。
“What the hell does that have to do with anything？”
“Once a storm like this has set in； it might not clear for a month； maybe two；” said Solon；
stubbing out his lho stick。
“You can’t make this heap of crap go any faster？”
“No； sergeant； I can’t。”
Folches swore and rubbed a hand across his head。
“Why don’t you and your boys just settle down and enjoy the ride；” he said； “and try to stop the
guilders killing each other。 They’re only women and children； right？”
“Boss；” said Cholos。 Solon felt the crawler begin to slow； but he didn’t take his eyes of the
sergeant。
“You ought to watch your tongue； you whoreson bastard；” said Folches； putting one hand on the
autopistol bolstered prominently at his hip。
“Easy； big fella；” said Solon。 “All I’m saying is that we are moving as quick as we can； and you
coming up here to throw your weight around ain’t gonna make us go any faster。”
Folches let out a tense breath and took his hand off his gun。
“What’s the problem； anyway？” asked Solon。 “Three days and we’ll be off this moon。”
“Something hit the access tunnels leading from Antithon guild to the spaceport。”
Solon frowned。
“Four demi…legions were gone； like that；” said the sergeant； clicking his fingers。 “And Emperor
knows how many guilders。”
“Four demi…legions？”
“Four hundred soldiers。 The enemy is not on its way to Perdus Skylla；” said the sergeant。 “It is
already here。” Solon bit his lip。
“Boss；” said Cholos； breaking the silence。
“What？” asked Solon in exasperation； turning to face his second in command。
“You better take a look at this。”
Solon spun his chair around； turning his back on the sergeant； and peered out of the small； iceencased
cabin window。
The wind was whipping across the landscape at over a hundred kilometres an hour； and virtually
nothing could be seen except the glare of the crawler’s spotlight reflected back at them by the snow
and ice in the air。
“I don’t see a damned thing； Cholos。”
Sergeant Folches leant down at Solon’s side； looking out into the storm； and Solon felt his
irritation rise。
“Damn it Cholos； what am I looking at？”
“Wait for the wind to drop；” said Cholos。
He slowed the crawler further and the three men looked intently out into the storm。 At last the
wind fell momentarily and Solon could see a dark； shadowy shape up ahead。 It was another crawler；
motionless and dark。 Then it was hidden as the winds picked up again with a vengeance。
“That’s Markham’s rig；” said Solon。
“Looks like it； boss；” said Cholos。
“Hail them；” said Solon。
“You recognise it？” asked Folches as Cholos tried to make voice contact with the stationary
crawler with the short…ranged vox…caster built into the dash console。
“Yeah；” said Solon。 “It should be at the starport by now。 What the hell is it doing out here？”
52
“There’s no response； boss；” said Cholos。 The sound of static was hissing from the vox…caster。
“Might be the storm’s interference though。”
Solon swore。
“Right； take us alongside it。 If it still doesn’t respond； then it looks like we’ll be getting cold。”
“My squad will come with you；” said Folches。
“That would be appreciated；” said Solon。
The lift halted its ascent and drew to a shuddering halt。
“Restricted access。 Band XK privilege required；” croaked the robotic voice of the servitor built
into one of the interior walls of the lift。
Marduk sighed in impatience。
A panel on one wall bore the symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus； and the First Acolyte ripped it
clear； his gauntlet wrenching the metal out of shape as if it were paper。 Wires and cables spilt behind
the panel like intestines； sparking and buzzing。
“Open it；” he ordered impatiently。
A mechadendrite tentacle stabbed into the open panel； and Darioq twisted it left and right。
“Access granted；” croaked the servitor as the magos retracted his metallic tentacle； and the lift
doors hissed open。
Kol Badar stepped out of the lift in front of Marduk； swinging his combi…bolter from side to
side。 The lift rose a few centimetres as the Coryphaus’s immense weight was removed from the
straining winch mechanics。
“Clear；” the towering Coryphaus growled； raising his combi…bolter into a vertical position。 Kol
Badar held the sacred icon of the Host in the power talons of his left hand； the snarling daemon face
of the Latros Sacrum in its centre； slamming the butt of the staff into the ground as Marduk stepped
from the lift。
The First Acolyte took a moment to get his bearings before marching into the guildmaster’s
office。
“Stay； Darioq…Grendh’al；” he said over his shoulder； exerting the force of his will into his
intonation； forcibly commanding the daemon within the corrupted magos。
Burias was leaning casually against a wall； drinking from a bottle that had had its neck smashed
off。 His mouth and chin were covered in blood； and a man lay shivering on the floor before him。
The icon bearer drained the fiery liquid from the bottle and smiled at Marduk； wiping his mouth
with the back of one hand。
“Stand to attention when your seniors are present； warrior；” barked Kol Badar； the voxamplifiers
built into his quad…tusked helmet making his voice even more of an animalistic growl
than usual。
Making no attempt to hurry； Burias languidly rose from his slouch and tossed the empty bottle
away。 It shattered on the floor。
“Consumption of all but necessary sustenance is a sin that leads to weakness； icon bearer；”
snapped Marduk。 “You will submit yourself to three months of fasting and flagellation once we
return to the Infidus Diabolus。”
“I am duly castigated； my master；” said Burias； bowing his head in a show of obeisance and
mock remorse。 Marduk’s eyes narrowed。
Burias held a hand out to Kol Badar。 “My icon？” he said。
The Coryphaus flicked the heavy icon at the smaller Astartes warrior with far more force than
was needed； but Burias caught it deftly in his hand。
“Enough；” said Marduk。 “This is the commander？” He motioned with his chin towards the man
shivering on the ground。
53
“It is； my master；” said Burias； running his hands lovingly over the spiked length of his icon； as
if he had been separated from it for years and was savouring being reunited。 “Alive； as you wished。”
Marduk knelt down before the man； who stared up at him fearfully； his face waxy and pale。
“You have something that I want； little man；” said Marduk； removing his skull…faced helmet and
handing it to Burias； “and you are going