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distasteful　look　at　Woods；　and　snapped；　“It　seems　clear　to　me；　Sergeant　Greiss；　that　you　and　your
squad　were　responsible　for　this　outrage；　and　I　intend　to　make　sure　you　regret　it。　How　would　you
feel；　Greiss；　about　sleeping　out　in　the　jungle　tonight？”
Greiss’　eyes　lit　up。　“Delighted　to；　sir。”
That　wasn’t　the　answer　Mackenzie　had　been　expecting；　and　he　seethed　impotently。　“Let　me　tell
you；　Sergeant　Greiss；　what　happens　to　Guardsmen　who　disrespect　their　senior　officers。”
“I’m　all　ears；　sir；”　growled　Greiss。
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Mackenzie　flushed。　“We　bury　them。　Let　me　tell　you　what　it’s　like；　Greiss。　It’s　too　small　for　you
to　stand；　too　narrow　for　you　to　sit　down。　You’ll　spend　the　night—as　many　nights　as　I　choose—in　the
most　uncomfortable　position　you　can　imagine；　until　you　think　your　spine　will　crack。　You’ll　feel
spiders　gnawing　at　your　feet；　you’ll　be　at　the　mercy　of　the　jungle　lizards。　And　during　the　day—in　the
daytime；　when　the　sun’s　beating　down　on　you　and　you　don’t　have　the　room　to　lift　an　arm　to　shade
your　eyes—in　the　daytime；　Greiss；　let　me　tell　you；　you’ll　start　to　wish　you　were　dead。”
Graves　had　moved　silently　to　the　young　commissar’s　side。　He　cleared　his　throat　now；　and
murmured；　“May　I　remind　you；　sir；　that　we　need　these　men　fresh　and　active　for　duty　in　the　morning？
I　don’t　see　much　point　in　pursuing　this　matter。　Especially—”　and　he　laboured　this　point　particularly
heavily　“—with　no　evidence　to　lay　charges　against　any　individual。　No　harm　done；　I’d　say。　In　fact；
it’s　probably　best　for　all　sides　they　got　it　out　of　their　systems。”
Mackenzie　said　nothing　for　a　moment—and　Lorenzo　expected　him　to　snap　at　the　colonel　the
way　he　had　at　Lieutenant　Vines。　Instead；　he　seemed　to　accept　the　quiet　wisdom　in　Graves’　words。
He　turned　and　marched　stiffly　out　of　the　door；　the　tension　in　the　hall　diffusing　in　his　wake。　People
began　to　pick　themselves　up；　to　collect　scattered　bowls；　chairs　and　tables　and　to　tend　to　their
wounded；　Catachans　and　Validians　working　together　to　restore　order。
“For　any　of　you　girls　who　were　fretting；”　announced　Colonel　Graves；　“B　Platoon　have　voxed　in。
They’ve　had　some　casualties—lost　eight　men—but　most　of　them　are　still　standing；　and　they’re
making　their　way　to　us；　ETA　11。00。　In　view　of　this　delay；　Commissar　Mackenzie　has　decided　not　to
wait。　All　Jungle　Fighters　are　to　assemble　in　the　briefing　hut　in　twenty　minutes。”
Lorenzo　slept　under　the　stars　that　night；　on　a　bed　of　leaves　picked　from　the　edge　of　the　jungle　and
carefully　tested　for　hidden　spines　and　poison　sap。　Basic　quarters　had　been　provided　for　the
Catachans；　but　there　weren’t　enough　bunks　for　all　of　them—and　most　would　have　chosen　to　sleep
outdoors　anyway。　It　had　been　too　long。
The　sounds　of　the　jungle　at　night　brought　a　feeling　of　calm　to　Lorenzo。　The　rustle　of　a　breeze　in
its　leaves；　the　caws　and　cackles　of　nocturnal　predators；　the　gurgle　of　water—or　some　other　liquid—
carried　from　far　away。　He　wished　he　could　be　deeper　inside　it。　The　area　cleared　out　by　the　Validians
had　an　acrid　burnt　scent　to　it。　Lorenzo　was　used　to　having　a　canopy　of　green　above　him—but　tonight
it　was　black；　and　freckled　with　the　white　points　of　distant　suns。　The　night　sky　was　crystal　clear；　the
air　warm。　It　was　as　if　Rogar　III　was　showing　him　its　good　points；　its　aesthetic　qualities。　As　if　it
wanted　to　lull　him　into　a　sense　of　security　by　hiding　its　true；　savage　beauty　from　him。　Lorenzo
wasn’t　fooled。　He　looked　forward　to　the　morning；　to　testing　this　world’s　mettle。
He　thought　back　to　Mackenzie’s　briefing；　and　suppressed　a　thrill。　The　commissar　had　been
furnished　with　a　list　of　the　Catachan　squads；　and　had　assigned　them　to　various　missions。　B　Platoon
had　drawn　the　short　straw　in　their　absence；　they　would　arrive　at　the　encampment　to　find　that　their
comrades　had　moved　out　and　left　them　to　reinforce　the　security　details　here。　If　they　were　lucky；　the
orks　would　provide　a　distraction　or　two　to　break　up　the　monotony。
The　rest　of　the　Catachans　were　to　do　what　the　Validians　could　not：　take　the　fight　to　the　orks
themselves。　Which　meant；　of　course；　fighting　the　jungle　too。
“I　know　what　you’re　all　thinking。”　Colonel　Graves　had　added　to　Mackenzie’s　speech。　“It’s　a
jungle　world；　maybe　even　a　deathworld；　nothing　you　haven’t　seen　before。　Well；　believe　me；　Rogar
III　is　different。　The　commissar　here　tells　me　that；　a　year　ago；　this　place　was　a　little　green　corner　of
paradise。　Well；　I　don’t　know　what’s　happened；　and　to　tell　the　truth　I　don’t　much　care—but　as　you
ladies　can　see；　this　isn’t　paradise　anymore。”
Later；　Donovits　had　tossed　around　a　lot　of　phrases　like　“climate　change”　and　“axis　shifts”—but
Lorenzo　hadn’t　cared　much。
He’d　been　more　interested　in　hearing　how　the　Imperium’s　attempts　to　expand　its　encampments
had　met　with　failure。　It　was　a　full…time　job　for　a　squad　of　Guardsmen　to　maintain　this　one；　small
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though　it　was。　For　every　jungle　creeper　they　burnt　away；　two　more　seemed　to　replace　it—and　their
rate　of　growth　was　prodigious。
“When　the　Explorators　came　to　Rogar。”　Graves　had　said；　“they　recorded　some　weird　energy
signature。”　Of　course；　Lorenzo　had　already　known　that；　thanks　to　Donovits。　“Now；　I’m　not　saying
there’s　anything　in　that—just　warning　you　hotheads　not　to　get　too　cocky。　We　don’t　know　what　this
deathworld　has　to　throw　at　us；　but　we　do　know　a　couple　of　hundred　Guardsmen　have　died　trying　to
find　out。”
Mackenzie　had　displayed　a　rough　map　of　the　area；　and　pointed　out　the　known　ork　strongholds。
He　was　planning　an　attack　on　one　of　these；　intelligence　suggested　that　it　was　lightly　defended；　the
orks　depending　on　the　jungle　itself　to　protect　them。　A　derisive　snort　had　gone　up　from　the　Catachans
at　this　point。
The　whole　of　A　Platoon；　ogryns　and　all；　was　committed　to　this　offensive；　while　two　of　D
Platoon’s　four　squads　were　to　set　traps　and　lay　in　wait　for　reinforcements　from　the　other　ork　camps。
Other　squads　would　target　supply　lines—hit　and　run　tactics；　to　divide　the　enemy’s　attention。
Lorenzo’s　squad　had　been　the　last　to　learn　its　assignment—and　its　ten　men　had　let　out　a　cheer
when　Mackenzie　had　explained　that　it　was　the　most　vital；　and　most　dangerous；　of　all。　The
commissar　had　shouted　at　them　to　be　silent。
“One　particular　ork　has　been　giving　us　trouble；”　he　had　said。　“Their　current　warboss　in　this
region。　You　know　how　it　is—we　take　out　one；　another　takes　its　place。　But　this　one　has　a　few　more
brain　cells　than　most。　The　troops　have　taken　to　calling　him　Big　Green。　He’s　actually　got　the　beasts
organised；　to　an　extent。　Their　last　few　raids　on　us　were　almost　well　planned。　And　this　ork　has　a　keen
sense　of　self…preservation。　Most　warbosses　lead　from　the　front；　this　one　stays　behind　the　lines。　He’s
become　a　legend　to　the　orks；　if　only　because　he’s　lasted　longer　than　his　predecessors。　He’s　good　for
their　morale。　Too　good。　I　want　him　dead！”
According　to　the　commissar；　the　Imperial　Guard　had　been　close　to　finding　the　warboss’　hideout
when；　in　his　own　words；　“the　jungle　became　impassable”。　They　knew　its　general　location；　but　the
lair　itself　was　well　concealed。　The　Catachans’　job　was　to　find　the　ork　warboss　and　do　the　necessary
deed。　A　stealth　mission；　a　single　assassination。　Sounded　simple；　Lorenzo　thought。
Then；　Mackenzie　had　thrown　a　spanner　in　the　works。
“Given　the　importance　of　this　mission；”　he　had　said；　“I　will　be　leading　it　myself。　Silence！”　he
bellowed　in　response　to　the　Catachans’　howls　of　protest。
Sergeant　Greiss；　who　a　moment　earlier　had　sported　a　broad　grin　on　his　face；　now　looked　as　if　he
had　been　slapped。　“With　respect；　sir；”　he　had　growled；　“you　aren’t　a　Jungle　Fighter。　Better　if　the
men　take　their　orders　from　someone　used　to—”
“Contrary　to　popular　belief；　sergeant。”　Mackenzie　had　sneered；　“they　do　teach　us　to　do　more
than　sit　around　and　drink　amasec　in　officer　training。　I　am　fully　qualified　in　jungle　warfare—and
more　importantly；　in　command。　Now；　I’m　sure　your　style　of　leadership　is　adequate　for　charging　at
the　enemy　with　your　bayonets　fixed—but　this　is　to　be　a　precision　strike。　For　that　to　work；　I　need…”
He　raised　his　voice　to　speak　over　the　growing　grumbles　of　dissent。　“I　need　a　well…dr