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smoke。
“Alarm！　Alarm！”　he　shouted　into　the　vox。　The　Line’s　turret　weapons　were　already　cranked　to
maximum　elevation；　but　there　was　no　point　wasting　ammo　at　this　range。　In　the　distance；　he　saw　the
choppy　flashes　of　tracers　from　Hydra　carriers　in　the　front　file。
Two　more　bats　went　over；　using　the　convoy’s　long　dust　wake　as　a　marker　to　line　up　on　their
targets。　Matredes　was　rotating　the　turret；　but　LeGuin　shook　his　head。　A　troop　truck　three　vehicles
forward　of　them　leapt　into　the　air　in　a　brilliant　eruption　of　flame；　and　showered　burning　debris　in　all
directions。
They　hadn’t　even　seen　that　one　coming。
The　vehicles　ahead　of　them　swerved。　The　hit　truck　was　a　stricken　mass　of　blazing；　twisted　metal。
Burnt　bodies；　some　stripped　naked　by　the　blast；　littered　the　sand。
Another　troop　truck；　turning　to　avoid　the　ruin；　hit　soft　sand　and　dug　in。　It　rocked　violently；
wheels　spinning　and　digging　deeper；　engine　over…revving。　The　infantrymen　in　the　back　leapt　down
with　spades　and　chains。
“Full　stop！　Get　the　cable！”　LeGuin　yelled　to　Matredes；　who　clambered　out　at　once　with
Mergson；　one　of　the　sponson　gunners。
“Tie　it　up！　Tie　it　up！”　LeGuin　shouted　at　the　men　on　the　ground　as　Matredes　and　the　gunner
fetched　the　hawser　coil　from　the　starboard　panniers。　They　had　to　be　quick。　The　enemy　warplanes
habitually　dumped　their　payloads　on　the　head　of　the　column　to　slow　it　down。　Then　they　delighted　in
coming　about　down　the　stationary　line；　strafing　as　they　went　home。
“Come　on！”
Surface…to…air　from　the　column　ahead。　Tracer；　some　wild　cannon　fire；　small…arms。　Some　idiot
tried　a　shoulder　rocket。　It　went　up；　useless　as　a　white　flare　in　daylight。　Where　were　they？　Where　the
bloody　hell　w—
26
Booom！　One　went　right　over　at　zero　altitude；　rocking　the　tank　on　its　torsion　bars　with　the
Shockwave。　By　the　time　it　had　gone　by　them；　it　was　already　pulling　off。　The　track　five　hundred
metres　ahead　was　swathed　in　fyceline　smoke　from　the　deluge　of　cannon　fire　it　had　stitched　down　the
line。　New　fires　had　started。　Something　big—a　tank’s　magazine；　most　likely—blew　up　with　a　dry
roar。
“Come　on；　Matredes！”　LeGuin　bawled。　Most　of　the　troopers　had　thrown　themselves　flat　when
the　bat　went　over；　but　LeGuin’s　men　had　got　the　cable　lashed　around　the　truck’s　bull…bars。
“Ease　off！　Get　him　to　ease　off！”　LeGuin　shouted　to　Matredes；　indicating　the　truck　driver；　a
Munitorum　drone　who　was　still　thrashing　the　daylights　out　of　the　vehicle’s　drive　shaft　in　an　effort　to
self…right。
“Emdeen？”　LeGuin　voxed　to　his　driver。　“Nice　and　easy　back　step；　no　jerks；　or　you’ll　amputate
its　rear　end。”
“Understood；　captain；”　Emdeen　voxed　back。　“Fifteen　segs；　mind。”
Fifteen　segs。　LeGuin　laughed　despite　the　situation。　A　Pardus　tanker　was　permitted　to　sew　a　little
stylised　track　segment　to　the　edge　of　his　uniform　collar　for　every　year　served　active。　Emdeen　was
reminding　his　captain　that　he　was　a　fifteen　year　vet　and　didn’t　need　to　be　told　how　to　tow　a　cargo…10
successfully。
LeGuin　had　thirteen　segs　of　his　own。
His　laughter　stopped　as　he　saw　the　next　bat。　Low；　head　on；　red　as　an　open　wound。　Weapon　ports
flashed　as　it　came　on。　Tormentor…class；　LeGuin　presumed。　Maybe　a　Hell　Talon。　He　didn’t　care。　He
knew　tanks。　Planes　looked　all　the　same　to　him。　It　might　as　well　have　been　a　frigging　flying　pixie；　it
was　still　intent　on　murder。
The　bat’s　cannon　fire　chewed　along　the　track；　kicking　dirt　up　in　man…high　bursts　with　the　rapid
precision　of　an　industrial　belt　press。　A　STeG　armoured　car　wearing　the　dusty　livery　of　the　Enothian
PDF　ruptured　like　an　eggshell　and　rolled　on　its　side。　The　raking　blasts　atomised　the　front　end　of　the
water　tanker。
Then　the　shots　stitched　right　across　them。　Half　a　dozen　of　the　troopers　from　the　stranded　truck
were　thrown　down；　their　bodies　flung　aside；　or　into　the　air；　or　into　pieces。　The　air　filled　with　upflung
dust　and　dirt。　LeGuin　lost　sight　of　Matredes；　but　saw　Mergson　clearly　as　he　was　hit。
Everything　below　Mergson’s　waist　vaporised　in　a　blitz　of　flame　and　fibres。
“No！”　LeGuin　screamed　as　he　dropped　back　into　the　turret　for　cover；　three　shells　spanking　off
the　Line’s　top　armour。
The　bat　had　already　hammered　past；　but　as　he’d　dropped；　LeGuin　had　seen　a　second　one　right
behind　it。
Raging；　he　seized　the　yokes　of　the　main　turret’s　twin　mount；　threw　the　autoloader　lever　and
began　to　fire。
The　turret　rocked。　He　couldn’t　see　a　thing　through　the　prismatic　sight；　certainly　not　a　target。
A　waste　of　munitions？　Let　me　miss　first；　LeGuin　reasoned；　then　tell　me　that。
Over　the　Makanites；　12。01
Flight　time　was　coming　up　on　one　hour。　Twenty　thousand　metres　of　clear　air　down　to　the　frosted
mountains　below　them；　three…tenths　cloud。　Visibility　clear　to　forty…plus。
Strapped　in　his　flight　armour　and　breathing　air…mix　through　his　mask；　Viltry　looked　up　out　of　his
Marauder’s　shadowed　cockpit　into　the　bright　realm　of　the　sky。　Ahead；　and　slightly　high；　Hello
Hellfire　was　cruising　smoothly；　leaving　long；　straight；　pure…white　condensation　trails　behind　her。
The　sunlight　glinted　off　her　polished…alloy　silver。
It　　the　background　thrum　of　G　for　Greta’s　four　ramjets。
According　to　the　auspex；　there　was　nothing　in　the　air　except　their　six　plane　formation　for　a　hundred
kilometres。
27
Viltry　clicked　his　intercom。　“Gee　Force；　check　in。”
That　was　G　for　Greta’s　other　nickname。　Gee　Force　Greta。　Orsone　had　coined　it；　and　it　had
stuck。
“Bombardier；　aye。”
“Nose；　aye。”
“Tail；　check。”
“Turret；　aye。”
Lacombe；　Viltry’s　navigator；　looked　round　from　his　position　and　made　a　finger…and…thumb　“O”
with　his　gloved　hand。
“How　far？”　Viltry　asked　the　navigator。
“Coming　up　on　the　waypoint；　sir。　We　want　to　make　a　turn　bearing　east　ten　in　the　next　five。”
“What’s　it　called　again？”
“Irax　Passage。　I　believe；　named　after　a　local　species　of　alpine　herbivore　that—”
“Thanks；　Lacombe。　War　first；　history　later。”
“Sir。”
Viltry　switched　channels。　“Halo　Flight；　this　is　Halo　Leader。　Prepare　to　come　about　bearing　east
ten　on　my　mark…　three；　two；　one…　mark。”
The　angle　of　the　sun　tilted。　The　tactical　bombers　turned。　G　for　Greta；　Hello　Hellfire；　Throne　of
Terror；　Mamzel　Mayhem；　Get　Them　All　Back　and　Consider　Yourself　Dead。　Except　for　heavy
operations；　Halo　seldom　lofted　all　of　its　dozen　birds　for　one　sortie。　Six　was　standard；　and　these　six
had　been　picked　by　straw　poll。　Widowmaker　had　been　drawn；　but　then　switched　out　because　of　a
vector　duct　problem。　Mamzel　Mayhem　had　taken　her　place。　The　Mamzel　was　Halo　Two；　Kyrklan’s
bird。　As　Viltry’s　second…in…command；　Wassimir　Kyrklan　usually　led　sorties　with　the　other　half　of
the　flight　while　Viltry’s　half　was　in　turnaround。　It　was　unusual　for　them　to　be　flying　together。
“Make　your　descent　by　five　thousand；”　Lacombe　said。
“Copy　all　flight；　descent　by　five　thousand。”
There　was　a　change　in　engine　tone　as　they　began　to　drop。　The　ice…capped　peaks　began　to　seem
terribly　close。
“Lacombe？”
The　navigator’s　sharp　eyes　switched　between　the　terrain…scanning　auspex　and　the　cockpit　view。
“Looking　for　a　point　turn。　Yacob’s　Peak。　Plot　brief　says　it　stands　at　the　mouth　of　the　pass。”
Another　slow　minute。　“Come　on；　Lacombe。”
“There　it　is。　Twelve　kilometres　and　closing。　We　need　to　lose　another　two　thousand　now。　Brief
advises　wind　shear　once　we　enter　the　pass。”
Viltry　nodded；　easing　the　stick。　“Halo　Flight；　Halo　Flight。　Point　marker　twelve　kilometres　and
closing。　Stoop　by　three；　and　watch　for　crosswind。”
“Halo　Two；　understood。”
“Following　your　lead；　Halo　Leader。”
A　photo…scout　Lightning　from　the　1267th　Navy　（recon）　had　run　this　pathway　at　dawn；
identifying　a　cluster　of　Imperial　armour　and　artillery　units　halfway　up　the　pass；　with　Archenemy
heavies　tight　on　its　tail。　Apparently；　a　local　squadron　had　spotted　the　area　the　day　before；　shortly
before　getting　stung　by　enemy　air　cover。
“Halo　Flight；　watch　the　air；”　Viltry　voxed。　He　switched　to　intercom。　“Gunners？　Locks　off。
Eyeball　scans　now；　like　your　lives　depend　on　it。　For　they　surely　do。　Judd？”
A　crackle。　“Captain；　sir？”
“Kiss　the　children　for　me；　bombardier。”
Crackle。　“I’ll　tell　them　you　said　night…night。”
In　the　bomb　bay　below　Viltry；　Judd　gently　armed　the　payload；　and　then　snuggled　up