Trooper Veiss barrelled into the room with Pellins hot on his heels. The prisoners were all shouting and gesticulating as best they could in their trussed up state. Attention seemed fixed on the two men that had been fastened to a big iron radiator. With their hands secured tight, there were using whatever else they could to attack one another.

Veiss fell flat on his face as a nearby prisoner snagged his ankle. Pellins struck the man over the head and helped his partner back up, but it was too late. One of the fighters had managed to get his ankles crossed behind the head of the other, gripping his head between steely thighs. The other man bit down hard on a chunk of flesh, staining his assailant's fatigues dark with his own blood.

With a sickening crunch the biter's neck snapped as the other man twisted hard, almost dislocating his own arms to bring enough force to bear. Veiss' truncheon was just a second too late. The killer slumped into unconsciousness.

'What the frak was this about,' Pellins bellowed, addressing the nearer prisoners. All he received was a babble of verbal abuse.

'Go get the Commissar,' Veiss growled.

xxx

Vaughn looked down at the corpse and sighed heavily.

'What happened here?'

Biggs shook his head in exasperation.

'It would appear that our man took exception to his neighbour. We won't know any more until he regain's consciousness.'

'Too late for this fellow,' Vaughn muttered.

The corpse was laid out on his back, still chained to the radiator with his neck bent at an impossible angle. His features were slack and a little forlorn.

'Have any of the others talked?'

'Not yet. We've started keeping them well separated. All we know is that the killer was captured during the street-fight this morning, while this fellow just came in from the scrap at the depot.'

'I see. Initially I would have put this down to infighting or some kind of vendetta, but perhaps there are more… mercenary reasons. Do we have any evidence to suggest that they were from different crews?'

Biggs scratched his head in thought.

'Only the fact that most of the kit we took from the street-fight this morning was top-of-the-line, expensive, custom gear. The depot gang were equipped with cheaper equipment, mass-produced arms, the kind of thing you can pick up in bulk from any local arms-trader. It's nothing concrete, I guess, but maybe there's something in it.'

'It's just a hunch,' Vaughn mused, 'but I think there may be more than two sides to this conflict. In the meantime I've requested the use of some cells up at the penitentiary, somewhere with slightly better security but it may take some time to come about. Until then I want you to keep the two groups exposed to each other but well out of reach. Put someone with a brain in with them to keep an ear open in case they let slip any useful information. Where have their possessions been stored?'

'They came in with just the clothes on their backs, sir. There wasn't time or inclination to gather evidence. Apparently it's been pretty hairy out there.'

'Very well. In that case I'll be handling prisoner transportation myself from here on. I'll get Grein to pick out a few good men. I need to gather evidence and I can't do that if they come to me empty handed.'

'Uh, actually, Commissar, there might be other leads we can follow up on…'

'Go on, lieutenant.'

Biggs knelt down next to the corpse, pulling aside the dead man's collar to reveal a tattoo of a skull and crossed hatchets.

'A lot of merc outfits have these, part of the initiation, I suppose. A show of loyalty, although it's not necessarily the same kind of loyalty you and I might imagine. If any of these boys are local, we might be able to cross-reference them on the imperial archives.'

'Did the men from this morning have any tattoos like this?'

'I'll get a team to start cataloguing them. If you can get me access to those records I have a man that can process them.'

'I'll make arrangements. On a side-note, I'll be dining at the Lord General's manse this evening. Try and drum up a car to take me there, would you?'

xxx

Unless you were unhinged, going toe to toe with the kroot was not an experience to relish. They were bird-quick, hollow bones making for a light physique. At the same time they were whip-cord strong, dextrous and imposingly tall. The long-barrelled, spike-muzzled rifles they sported boosted their already superior reach. Besides this they fought with an instinctive savagery. Battle was written into their genome.

Benjamen Arines had fought them twice before during his dubious career. The first occasion had been the prosecution of a minor baron gone rogue, back on his homeworld of Cassendora when he was just a fledgling PDF recruit. The Baron had bought in some hired muscle to try and gain leverage over his neighbours. The use of xenos mercenaries had not gone unpunished by the hard-line Imperialist government.

The second engagement had been during the abortive Damocles Crusade. At the age of twenty-five Arines had secured a transfer to a line unit, the Cassendori Longrifles. The regiment had been sent into the Gulf with the rest of the crusade army and had been royally punished by Farsight's Hunter Cadres.

The presence of Kroot on Cardinal Voldt was not necessarily proof that the Tau were here, but the accuracy of those rocket batteries was starting to ring bells in Arine's brain. He'd seen seeker missiles in action, but he wondered what business they could possibly have that would bring them so far beyond the Damocles septs. It made him nervous. The Tau had already caused his downfall once. He was damned if he was going to let that happen again.

He took a moment to duck down and survey how things were going long this stretch of the perimeter. Valint was crouched nearby, pumping controlled bursts of las out into no man's land.

'How are your men faring, sergeant?' he cried. Valint shook his head in exhaustion.

'Learning fast and holding strong. They've broken in a couple of times over to the west but we managed seen them off both times.'

'Good to hear. Don't let up, these bastards generally have a limit, we just need to force them to it.'

'Understood. I won't let them falter.'

'I believe it, Valint. No one could doubt it! But perhaps your spirit would be put to greater use over to the west. If the lines are weaker there, you could make a palpable difference.'

'Understood, Captain. They're coming again.'

They went back to work, emerging from cover to let rip with bursts of repelling fire. They could make out humans in and amongst the xenos now, where before the mercs had apparently hung back. It was a sign of desperation. The kroot were taking losses. They must be close to breaking point.

xxx

His captors were putting sixty watts through the bulb now, other than that they were getting nowhere. Corgan resolutely refused to say any more until they untied him.

'This is not a fair trade. We have the upper hand.' Said the hooded form of his interrogator.

'It's been quite a while since life was fair, mate, at least in my experience. You make your own breaks in this galaxy and if I'm not gravely mistaken, you've bedded down in hostile territory. This is my turf and that makes you all my bitches. Untie me and we'll see if we can come to a reasonable agreement.'

The interrogator's placid exterior was slipping. Time was running away from him, but he had his pride. He turned on his heel and led his birdman bodyguard out of the room. The door closed with a solid thunk. Corgan took a deep, calming breath. Patience was a virtue. His hand was still proving strong, despite the fact that he felt like he was bluffing. Time would tell.

xxx

The battle for the depot raged off to the west of Lita's position as she hunkered down in a ruinous hab with her squad.

Much of Cerberus Company was heavily engaged in defending the depot. Arines' boys had been rallying on his position since the running battle ensued this morning. Now that they had a static line of defence, it had fallen to the reserves of Argo Company to watch the flanks and force an advantage. If Corgan had been around, he would have found a way to achieve it but without him, Lita was stumped.

Darron's platoon was spread through a rambling hab complex to the west of the depot while Frocar had been set to covering the eastern approaches. Toal's platoon had been kept back at the regimental reserve while Alecs was supposedly moving up to reinforce the depot with his. There hadn't been any sign of him yet.

Lita was edging ahead of Frocar's line of defence, trying to find a way through the market district. There were still rogue shooters in the area, lone snipers moving around, slippery as smoke. They made it dangerous to move openly, but Lita had taken her three sections forwards, infiltrating with painfully slow progress through the sprawling mercantile district, hoping they could come around behind the enemy force.

Fenriss led the way, with Rhys covering his back. Off to her left Varrin and Jopal investigated a coal shed, ensuring there were no surprises in store. Quaig stuck close to her as she displaced, wary as feral cat, even with the bulky vox set strapped to his back.

They were still under strength after their losses on Gunga IV. Peddis and Geddies had both bought their tickets to eternity fighting the degenerate mutants of a Genestealer cult on the frontier world. Corgan hadn't seen the need to back fill the unit just yet. Such changes would upset the delicate balance they'd arrived at during the firestorms of the last two years. They worked well as they were, a couple of fresh nuggets would just get underfoot.

Lita crouched behind a low wall and held up a fist. Varrin and Jopal responded immediately, ducking into hard cover and scanning the surrounding buildings. Rhys hissed to get Fenriss' attention. It took them a moment or two longer to settle in.

'Check the flanks,' she hissed. Quaig unhooked the vox horn, adjusting his ear-piece slightly as he sent a two-pip burst. Several moments later he nodded the affirmative, indicating positive contact from Findrei and Loeval's vox men.

She signalled the advance once more. They bounded up between a wall and a row of abandoned food-carts, rusting in the open air of a small market square. The air was thick with blowflies and the smell of rancid meat. Styrene receptacles and filthy, sodden napkins littered the ground, gathering in sheltered spots with all the detritus of a once-bustling city turning to wrack and ruin. The wind whistled across the square, slamming loose shutters against their casements and disturbing the rubbish.

They moved with silent efficiency, weapons cinched tight at ready positions as they scanned rooftops and balconies.

A sound like a lightning strike slowed down, a sonic whine that rose beyond their aural range before being released with an almost deafening whip-crack, punched Rhys from his feet. Something as hot and bright as a miniature sun took him high in the shoulder and sent him sprawling in a heap, out in the open.

He lay on his back in stunned silence as Fenriss checked his own advance and dived back into cover. Then he started to scream.

Quaig was on the vox the instant his buttocks hit the asphalt.

'Sniper of the rooftops!' he blurted. 'Extreme caution advised.'

'Looks like some heavy calibre stuff,' Lita growled, tears standing out in her eyes as she struggled against the urge to run out and drag her man into cover. Of course that was exactly what the sniper wanted. She grabbed the vox horn.

'One-two-two, come in!'

'This is Loe, go ahead!'

'The shot came from a one of the rooftops to the north east of the market square, right up the street from you. He's using Rhys to try and draw us out, move now and you might be able to get the drop on him.'

'Can you be more specific on the location?'

'Just move, now! If I'm still in one piece in thirty seconds you'll hear from Quaig. Follow his directions.'

'Acknowledged.' Loeval had led a penitent platoon on Pelloris Ridge and survived the blood bath of Gunga IV. He knew what he was about.

'Anyone get a fix?' She called out, getting a round of desultory negatives for her trouble. Lita analysed their disposition. In diving for cover the squad had spread out thin. Fenriss, the point man, was well covered. If he moved it would have to be into the open, in which case he was dead. Varrin and Jopal, on the other hand, were crouching in an open sewer at the foot of the perimeter wall. The channel ran the length of the wall but the lip had crumbled away in a few places so was only of limited use.

'Help me out…' came Rhys' weakening entreaty. 'I'm hurt bad here, guys.' The shoulder pad of his carapace armour was smashed and slick with blood. He reached up to investigate the wound, his gauntlets coming away red. His piteous cries rose again, cries for his mother, cries for a medic, begging for his life in an unfeeling universe.

Lita's jaw locked, her gauntleted fists tightening around the grip of her hellgun.

'I'm going to get Rhys to cover,' she said, through gritted teeth. 'Spot that bastard and get his position to Loeval.'

'Sarge, it's suicide…' Quaig protested, but Lita Kierst was already diving out of cover, her boots pounding on the asphalt. Quaig peered out in disbelief, but he was still soldier enough to watch for the tell-tale flare of a sniper rifle.

A second, maybe two, then the sniper's weapon snapped again. Shards of superheated stone exploded from the ground between Lita's feet. She jinked left, a second shot seared its way past, so close it blistered the paint on her right shoulder guard.

Varrin and Jopal were returning fire now, tracking the coruscating projectiles back to their source. The range was impossible, but they put up a good show as Quaig opened a channel to Loeval's squad.

Fenriss scrambled onto his haunches and slung his rifle over one shoulder. As Lita reached the prone form of his squad mate he darted out to meet her. They took an arm each to drag him behind the nearest obstacle. Just as they were nearing safety, the sniper found a mark.

Lita was spun off her feet as a bolt of lightning tore into her left foot. For a moment, just like Rhys, she lay prone, wondering what had happened, then the pain, like nothing she'd ever experienced, roared throughout her body.

She was vaguely aware of someone dragging her into cover, but for an eternity all she could do was marvel in a strangely disconnected way at the agony rippling through her. Then she passed out.

xxx

Loeval and his fire team stormed the ransacked and looted shell of a general store with brutal efficiency. The ground floor was deserted but they shot it up anyway, yelling and hollering at the top of their lungs, gung-ho in the extreme. They found a stairwell in the back and charged up it two abreast. Loeval and Estha leading the way with rifles cushioned expertly at their shoulders. The wall-tiles on the first landing exploded, hellgun las ripping through flimsy partition walls.

The first floor was similarly deserted and the team headed up onto the roof. A maze of ventilation hoods and solar vanes surrounded them. Taller buildings loomed on three sides. There was no sign of the sniper.

'Split up,' Loeval hissed. 'Quarter the roof, locate any alternative escape routes.' Estha and Gussto went left while Billis and Tel took the right. He waved Vreyis and Coalin forward and they disappeared into the reflective sheeting that powered the building's electrics.

Loeval grabbed the vox horn from Listra.

'121, this is Loe, are you sure we're in the right place?'

'That's the place alright,' Quaig replied.

'Zero contact, here. Tango must have bugged out when he heard us coming. Get your wounded clear before he finds a new hole to hide up in. We'll track him down.'

The air was split by the whip-snap report of the sniper, Tel came flying into view from behind a lean-to shelter, a cascade of blood and meat following him.

'CONTACT!' Loeval screamed, dropping the horn and bringing his rifle up to bear. Billis tore around the corner, running flat out, eyes wide with terror. Not one to tolerate such cowardice, Loeval slammed his rifle butt into the man's midriff.

'Where do you think you're going, trooper? No one gets out of here without a ticket to the eternal!' he cried. 'Form on me, let's smoke this bastard out!'

Loeval wasn't big on subtlety. He was a brash and heavy handed hard-hitter. Argo Company was no place for wimps and weeds. If Billis survived this fight he'd probably find himself busted down to one of the other companies for falling out of the line of fire. There was no place for fear or hesitation in this unit. The sergeant led Billis and Listra in a blistering charge around the lean-to, weapons spitting death.

What they saw was nothing like what they were expecting.

The sniper wasn't a sniper at all, at least not in the conventional sense. It floated five feet from the surface of the roof, a saucer-like construct with a long, rectangular weapon slung underneath it along with what looked like stabiliser fins. The weapon cracked again, its meteoric projectile slicing the air between the guardsmen, arcs of static charge flickering around the body of the gun. At this range it would have punched straight through them, armour or no armour. It was just as well that it had missed.

Loeval put a full-auto burst through the space that it had occupied less than a second before he pulled the trigger. The drone jinked aside, bringing it straight into the river of las from Listra's hellgun. The lasbolts penetrated, causing something inside it to short out. It dropped to the ground with a most unsatisfactory clunk and sat there, sizzling, as the guardsmen gathered around.

'What the hell is it, sarge?' asked Billis.

'Since when did I care as long as its dead,' Loeval growled, prodding it with his boot nevertheless. The rest of the squad had mustered up, having completed their sweep of the rooftop.

'Alright people, let's get back in the streets, shall we?'

Loeval's head disappeared in a blood-red mist. Shards of his skull sliced into Listra's unprotected face. Billis dropped onto his arse, screaming, minus a leg.

The men of Loeval's squad broke in all directions, panic welling up in their breasts as they dove for cover.

xxx

'Are you ready to talk?'

A small smile quirked at the corners of Corgan's mouth. He was almost enjoying this now. They'd slackened off his bonds so that he could roll his shoulders forward, allowing him to breath properly – they couldn't have him suffocating. He'd completely lost track of time, so he didn't know how long he'd been held, but that didn't matter to him as much as it did to them.

'I'm hurt, anyone would think I'd been giving you the silent treatment!'

'In a way you have.'

'So untie me, what harm could it possibly do? It's not like I'd have any chance of escape…'

'You are a clever man, Escabar Corgan. We respect that. We would not be talking to you at all if it were not for your reputation.'

'I left reputation's behind me a long time ago,' Corgan replied with a weight of bitterness.

'On the contrary, my friends tell me that you are a man who gets things done. We have a great need for a man such as you.'

Corgan sneered.

'Unfortunately for you, I have a certain attachment to the whole staying alive concept. Throwing my lot in with xenos would be a death sentence for me on any Imperial world. I'd be a marked man… Been there, didn't care for it.'

'You know who I am.' The shrouded figure continued. 'You have deduced it, I know. You also know that my presence here is most extraordinary. How do you think I arrived here?'

'Cardinal Voldt's a busy system. A man like me could find a dozen ways to smuggle you in. Hell, I could get your whole family shipped in and the authorities would never know…'

'And my cadre? Would that be a feat beyond your capabilities?'

'Obstacles are there to be hurdled. Like I said, a man like me…'

'…Would find it extremely difficult to smuggle an entire Hunter Cadre across the militarised borders of the Damocles Gulf, let alone onto an Imperial world, even one as busy as this one. Face it… we had to have help.'

The interrogator paused to let this sink in, but Corgan just shrugged as best he could. After all, he had no idea how big a hunter cadre was supposed to be.

The alien raised his hands to his cowl. Corgan saw that they were three fingered and the skin had a slight blue tinge to it. Then the cowl was thrown back to reveal a hairless, slab-featured head with two eyes on either side of a long, vertical crease. The mouth was set into a pugnacious jaw, with heavy lips and a cleft chin. The eyes were milky and almost human, heavy with a weight of knowledge.

'Allow me to introduce myself. I am Shas'o Kalyth. And this, is my friend, Inquisitor Faylen…'

The door swung open to reveal a slender figure, resplendent in a long black surcoat edged with red frogging, gold buttons and knee high boots of glossy black leather over sable leggings. The woman that entered the room was at once alluring and repellent, with a haughty bearing that spoke in measures of being accustomed to authority.

'Greetings, Escabar Corgan. We meet again, although I believe I was travelling under the name of Shalta Parnassus when last our paths crossed.'

Corgan went cold as he recognised the name and the face fell into place.

'You were with Armenio… at Five Rivers…'

Faylen smiled a cruel smile and placed a single fist on a generous hip, adopting a seductive poise.

'Very good. Now, O'Kalyth here tells me he's been having some trouble securing your aid in our joint venture here on Cardinal Voldt. Would you care to re-evaluate the strength of your hand, Major, or shall I cut it off for you?'