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e birthmark was there；
centred on his nape。
'We haven't got time for this！' Aemos said。 Running footsteps were pounding through the building behind us and we could hear shouts
and curses。
'Where did you get this mark？' I willed at the ginger…haired man。
'Kaleil gave it me；' he said slackly。
What does it mean？
Driven by my undeniable will…force； he tried to say something that the rest of his mind and soul simply forbade。 It sounded like ''Lith''
but it was impossible to say for sure as the effort killed him。
'Dammit； Gregor！ We have to go！' Aemos roared。
As if to prove his point； two miners burst out of the doorway we had come through； aiming autorifles。 Medea and I whipped around as
one and dropped them both； one kill shot each。
AEMOS'S FAULTLESS RECALL led us through the winding sub…streets of Cinchare Minehead to the massive； dank bulk of Imperial
Allied。 There was a hue and cry behind us； mixed with the whine of electric buggies。
We ran across the plant's wide； metal drawbridge； through a rockcrete gatehouse festooned with razorwire； and on down through the
echoing entrance hall。
Footsteps followed。
THE EXCURSION TERMINAL was a semi…circular barn of corrugated steel overlooking the mouth of the main working。 Six prospecting
pods sat in oily iron cradles under the barn's roof。 They were slug…shaped machines； painted in the silver and khaki colours of Imperial
Allied。 Each one had a rack of flood and spotlights mounted above the cockpit； and several large servo arms and locator dishes arrayed
under the chin。
'That one！' Medea yelled； heading for the third in line。 She was still trying to fasten her flight suit properly。 I carried my jacket and
motion tracker。 There had been no time to stop and get dressed。
'Why this one？' I yelled； following her。
'The power hoses are all still attached and it's showing green across the board on the telltales！ Unclamp the hoses！'
I threw my stuff to Aemos； who hurried aboard behind Medea through the small side hatch； and ran to where three thick power cables
were attached to the multi…socket in the flank of the pod。 Just as Medea had noticed； all the indicator lights above the socket were
green。
I twisted the valves and pulled them free； one by one。 The last one was reluctant and needed a moment of brute force。
Las…shots spanked into the hull casing beside me。
I jerked the hose free and then turned； firing back down the length of the barn terminal。 The pod's attitude thrusters began to cough and
wheeze as Medea brought the craft to life。
Solid and las…shots peppered around me。 I ran to the hatch and climbed in。 Medea was at the helm in the cramped cockpit。
'Go！' I cried； slamming the hatch shut。
'Come on！ Come on！' Medea cursed at the pod's controls。 The over…urged engines whined painfully。
'Cradle lock！' Aemos spluttered desperately。
Realising her mistake； Medea swore expertly； eased the power down a tad； and threw a greasy yellow lever on the right…hand
bulkhead。 There was a jarring clank as the locking cuff that held the pod tight in the cradle disengaged。
'Sorry；' she grinned。
Freed； the pod lifted out of its landing cradle； swayed to the right as gunfire hunted for it； and then accelerated away； into the lightless
mouth of the mine tunnels。
THE UPPER WORKINGS of the Imperial Allied mines were huge excavations reinforced with rockcrete and filled with abandoned mining
machines。 Medea kicked in the pod's lamp array and illuminated our path with hard spot…beams of clear white light。 At the far end of
one reinforced spur； the lamps picked out a sudden； wide gradient where the horizontal incuts of the surface mines began their descent。
Running down the steep slope were derelict cable…trams of filthy ore…hoppers and a funicular railway for transporting workcrews to
the lower faces。
Aemos sat behind us in the pod's small cabin； reviewing the charts he had obtained from the security office。 'Continue down；' was all
he said。
The steep access bore descended for about a kilometre and a half； occasionally flattening into work…shelves with entries to side seams。
The view through the front screen seemed to be in black and white： the fierce white light piercing the blackness and revealing only
pale grey dust and rock； and the occasional sparkle of druse。
Medea slowed us as we passed over more fragmented and extensive piles of breakdown and then； under Aemos's instruction；
manoeuvred us down into the throat of an almost vertical chimney。 This chimney … a pitch in mining terms … was a natural formation；
possibly an ancient lava tube。 Slowly revolving laterally； we hovered down into it。 Flowstone caked the walls like swathes of creamy
drapery and quilled bushes of volcanic glass sprouted from outcrops。 The space was small； even for a compact pod like the one we had
borrowed。 Occasionally； Medea would nudge or clip an out thrust of quills and the glass fragments would fall silently； glittering； into
the pit below。
About two kilometres down； the pitch opened out into a complex series of curving tubes； sub…caves and sumps。 It was like moving out
of an oesophagus into the complex chambers of an intestinal tract。 The flow…stone started to show more colour： steely blues with
milky calcite swirls； mottled reds glinting with oolites。 Flinty black druse and other clastic litter covered the smoothed folds of the
ancient floor。
Medea pointed my attention to the small scanner box mounted below the main petrographic assayer。 The little screen was awash with
an almost indecipherable graphic of ghosting strata layers and reflecting lithic densities。 Three bright yellow cursors showed clearly in
the upper quadrant。
'They're coming after us；' she said。
'They seem to know where we are right enough。 How are they tracking us？'
'Same way we're getting such a clean return on their position。'
'Are the locators on this crate that powerful？'
Medea shook her head。 'They're fine for the immediate locality； but they've got nowhere near enough gain to penetrate the rock。'
'So？'
'I think all these prospector pods have high…powered beacons； probably built into flight recorders。 They'd need them for routine search
and recovery。'
'I'll take a look。'
I swung out of my seat and moved back down the pod； stooping； and using the overhead hand…rails to support myself。 Aemos was still
at work。 He'd fired up the pod's mineralogicae auspex； and was running a complex cross…search for the spectographic fingerprints that
appeared on the Adeptus Mechanicus transmissions。 He didn't even have the scrolls open any more： the complex subtleties of the
colour bars had long since been committed to memory。
Every few minutes； he consulted the main chart and called a course…correction to Medea。
At the rear of the pod； between racks holding old rebreathers with perishing rubber visor…seals； I found a small crawl space into the
engine bay。
I stuck my head and shoulders inside； and shone around with a lamp…pack I'd unbuckled from one of the rebreather sets。 A simple
process of elimination directed me to a fat metal drum clamped to the underside of the gravitic assembly and the housing for the
kinaesthetic gyroscopes。 Adeptus Mechanicus purity seals secured its cover。
I slid back out into the cabin； selected a medium plasma cutter from the tool web； and went back in。 The hot blue tongue of the cutter
sliced the drum's cover off and fused its pulsing innards。
Back in the cockpit； I saw we were now travelling down a wide cavern that was barbed with oily dripstones and varnished with
incandescent blooms of moon…milk and angel's hair。
'They look lost already；' Medea remarked； nodding at the scanner box。 She was right。 The yellow cursors were moving with nothing
like the same confidence。 'They were milling； trying to reacquire our signal。'
WE TRAVELLED FOR two more hours； through small flask…chambers gleaming with cavepearls； across vast low seas of chert and lapilli；
between massive stalactites that bit tunnels in two like the incisors of prediluvial monsters。 Domepits and sumps sheened with
brackish alkaline water and the smoke snaking from nests of fumaroles betrayed the fact that there was now a rudimentary
atmosphere： methane； sulphur； radon and pockets of carbon monoxide。 Venting cases from Cinchare's active heart and the gasproducts
of chemical and gravito…chemical reactions built and collected here； far below ground； leaking only slowly up to the airless
surface。 Hull temperature was increasing。 We were now about fifteen kilometres down； and beginning to feel the effects of the
asthenosphere。
'Hey！' said Medea suddenly。
She slowed the pod； and swung it around； traversing the lights。 We were in a gypnate chamber where the chert…covered floor was
scalloped by several gours formed by water eons before。 Several side spurs led away into tight pinches or were revealed on the chart to
pinch out no further than twenty metres in。
'What did you see？' I asked。
'There！'
The spot…lamps framed a black shape that I thought for a moment was just a jagged pile of boulders and stalagmite bosses。 But Medea
roved us in。
It was a prospecting pod； similar to ours； but bearing the crest of Ortog Promethium。 It had been crushed and split like an old can； the
stanchions of its cabin protruding from the metal hull like ribs。
'Hell…' Medea murmured。
'Mining's a dangerous job；' I said。
'That's recent；' Aemos said； appearing at our shoulders。 'Look at the tephra。'
'The what？' asked Medea。
'It's a generic term for clastic materials。 The dust and shale bed the wreck's lying on。 Move the lamp round。 There。 The tephra's
yellowish…white gypnate all around； but it's scorched and fused under the wreck。 Mineral smoke from the fumaroles we passed just
now vent back down here and cover everything with oxidised dust。 I'd wager if it's been there more than a month； the powder would
have overlaid the scorching… and coated the wreck。
'Pop the hatch；' I said。
THE SUBTERRANEAN ATMOSPHERE seemed scalding hot and I began to sweat freely the moment I jumped down from the sill。 I could
hear nothing except my breath rasping inside my rebreather mask。 I trudged round to the front of the hovering pod into the cones of its
lights； and saw Aemos and Medea in the lit cockpit； both hidden behind rebreather masks of their own。
I waved once and crunched off over the dusty sill； my bootcaps catching the occasional geode which scattered and flashed in the light。
There was no mistaking the blast holes in the wreck's hull。 Sustained fire from a multi…laser had split the pod wide open。 I shone my
hand torch in through the rents and saw a blackened cabin space； burned out。
The three crew members were still in there； at their posts； reduced to grimacing mummies by the acidic air； and by the hundreds of
glistening white worms that writhed and burrowed as my light hit them。 It figured that with its hot； wet； gaseous interior； Cinchare was
a far from dead world。
More troglobyte things scurried and squirmed around my feet。 Long…legged metallic beetles and inflated； jelly…like molluscs； all drawn
to this unexpected source of rich nutrients。
Something moved beside me and slammed into my left hip。 I fell hard against the broken hull； cursing that I hadn't been wearing my
motion tracker。 It came in again； and this time I felt a sharp pain in my left thigh。 I kicked out with a mask…muffled curse。
It was about the size of a large dog； but longer and lower； moving on lean hind limbs。 Its skin was nearly silver； and its eye…less head
was just a vast set of jaws filled with hundreds of transparent fangs。 All around the maw； long sensory bristles and tendrils twitched
and rippled。
It lunged again； its thin； stiff tail raised high as a counterbalance。 This thing； I guessed； was top of the food chain in Cinchare's
lightless cavities。 Too big to force its way inside the wreck to get at the corpses； it had been lurking outside； feeding on the carrion
worms and molluscs that had congregated on the crash。
With a twist of its head； it had a good grip on my left ankle。 I could feel the tips of its teeth biting through the heavy leather of my
boot。
I managed to tug my shotgun from the scabbard on my back and shoot it through the torso at point black range。 Viscous tissues and
filmy flesh scattered in all directions and the thing fl