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“Summary：　it　is　not　required　that　the　location　of　Explorator　First　Class　Daenae　be　obtained　from
the　brain…unit　of　Guildmaster　Polio；”　the　magos　intoned。
“What　gibberish　does　it　speak？　Who　is　this　Guildmaster　Polio？”　growled　Kol　Badar。
“Guildmaster　Polio　is　the　flesh　unit　whose　radial　and　ulna　bones　of　the　left　arm　have　been
rendered　inoperative　and　non…functioning　by　Marduk；　First　Acolyte　of　the　Word　Bearers　Legion　of
Astartes；　genetic　descendent　of　the　glorified　Primarch　Lorgar；”　replied　Darioq。
Burias　snorted　his　amusement；　though　Kol　Badar　growled　and　took　a　step　towards　the　blackrobed
magos；　electricity　coursing　into　life　around　his　power　talons。　Marduk　forestalled　his　advance
with　a　raised　hand；　and　looked　at　the　magos　intently。
“What　do　you　mean；　Darioq…Grendh’al？　Speak　simply；”　he　said。
“In　order　to　garner　the　required　information　about　the　whereabouts　of　Explorator　Daenae；　all
that　is　necessary　is　to　gain　access　to　the　cortex　hub　of　this　bastion　facility。”
Marduk　turned　to　look　at　Burias。　The　icon　bearer　shrugged　and　Marduk　turned　back　towards
Darioq　with　a　sigh。
“What　do　you　need　to　find　the　location　of　the　explorator？”　asked　Marduk；　speaking　in　a　slow
and　measured　voice。
“In　order　to　access　the　cortex　hub　of　this　bastion　facility；　a　sub…retinal　scan　of　the　commanding
officer　must　be　made；”　said　Darioq。
A　hint　of　a　smile　touched　Marduk’s　lips；　and　he　turned　towards　Burias。
“Fetch　me　his　eyes；　icon　bearer。”
Burias　grinned　and　flexed　his　fingers。
“As　you　wish；　my　master；”　replied　the　icon　bearer。
The　heavy　crawler　doors　slid　aside　with　a　sound　like　a　mountain　shifting；　and　snow　and　ice　billowed
into　the　cargo　hold。　The　frightened　refugees　from　Antithon　Guild　were　huddled　as　best　they　could
against　the　far　wall；　protecting　their　faces　from　the　biting　wind。
“Let’s　do　this　quickly；”　shouted　Solon　over　the　wind。　At　his　side；　Cholos　gave　him　the　thumbs
up。　Solon　looked　towards　Sergeant　Folches；　who　stood　with　his　soldiers。　The　soldier　nodded。
“Keep　her　running；”　shouted　Solon　to　Cholos。　“The　last　thing　we　want　out　here　is　the　engines
seizing　up。”
Solon　pulled　his　mask　and　respirator　over　his　face；　obscuring　his　features；　and　turned　around
awkwardly　in　his　bulky　exposure　suit。　He　grabbed　the　sides　of　the　ice…encased　metal　ladder　on　the
exterior　of　the　crawler　and　began　to　climb　down　to　the　ground。
His　breathing　sounding　heavy　in　his　ears　and　he　felt　a　momentary　stab　of　claustrophobia。　He
hated　these　suits。　The　pair　of　circular　synth…glass　goggle…panes　obscured　his　peripheral　vision　and
the　suit　made　all　movement　heavy　and　laboured。　Still；　they　kept　the　cold　out；　and　without　one　he
wouldn’t　last　more　than　an　hour　in　these　conditions。
He　climbed　down　the　eight　metres　from　the　cargo　hold　to　the　ground　and　stepped　onto　the　ice。
The　wind　threatened　to　knock　him　down；　and　he　steadied　himself　with　a　hand　on　a　massive　wheel。
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He　turned　around　to　look　up　at　the　bulk　of　Markham’s　lifeless　crawler　as　the　others　descended。　It
reared；　black　and　imposing；　like　an　ancient　monolith；　dark　and　dead。
With　his　mask　in　place；　he　had　no　means　to　communicate　with　the　others　except　by　hand　signals；
and　he　pointed　towards　the　front　of　the　crawler。　Sergeant　Folches　nodded　his　head　and　signalled　for
him　and　his　men　to　take　the　lead。
“Be　my　guest；　you　bastard；”　said　Solon；　gesturing　his　ascent。
The　soldiers　had　their　weapons　in　hand　as　they　approached　the　derelict　crawler。　It　was　clear　to
Solon　that　its　engines　had　not　been　running　for　some　time；　for　there　was　a　thick　layer　of　snow　across
the　crawler；　including　over　its　engine　stack。　Normally；　a　crawler’s　engineer　maintained　enough　heat
in　the　boilers　that　no　snow　would　settle。　Snow　was　banked　up　high　against　one　side　of　the　massive
crawler；　and　Solon　guessed　that　it　must　have　been　sitting　dormant　for　at　least　five　hours　for　such　an
amount　of　snow　to　have　settled　against　it。
The　white…armoured　Skyllan　Interdiction　soldiers　began　moving　towards　the　front　of　the
crawler；　their　guns　raised　to　their　shoulders。　With　swift　hand　signals；　the　sergeant　sent　two　men
ahead　on　point；　and　they　covered　each　other’s　blind　spots　as　they　moved　forward。　Solon　and　Cholos
stomped　through　the　snow　behind　the　soldiers。
“Doesn’t　look　like　anyone　is　home；”　Solon　said　to　himself。
One　of　the　crawler’s　immense　tracks　had　been　ripped　loose；　and　it　lay　twisted　and　broken
beneath　the　behemoth。　This　was　no　accident；　nothing　could　tear　a　crawler’s　track　loose　except　an
immense　mining　detonation；　or　concentrated　fire　by　a　well…armed　enemy。
Solon　saw　one　of　the　soldiers　gesture　up　at　the　side　of　the　crawler；　and　he　followed　the　direction
of　his　hand。　A　hole　had　been　blasted　through　the　side　of　the　immense　transport；　roughly　the　size　of　a
man’s　head；　scorch　marks　surrounding　the　strike。
Solon　walked　closer　to　the　side　of　the　crawler；　peering　at　a　line　of　smaller　marks　up　the　side　of
one　of　its　wheels。　Splinters　of　barbed　metal　were　embedded　in　the　steel　rim　off　the　wheel。
He　peered　closely　at　one　of　the　splinters。　It　was　viciously　barbed；　and　he　winced　at　its　cruel
design。　Had　it　been　embedded　in　a　living　body；　the　flesh　would　be　torn　to　shreds　in　attempting　to
pull　it　free。
Solon　jerked　as　a　heavy　hand　slapped　him　on　the　shoulder；　and　he　looked　up　into　the　faceless
visor　of　one　of　the　soldiers；　who　motioned　for　him　to　move　on。　Solon　nodded　his　head；　and　began
slogging　through　the　snow　and　ice　once　more。
He　stumbled　as　his　foot　caught　on　something；　and　fell　awkwardly　onto　his　front。　A　soldier
helped　him　back　to　his　feet　and　he　looked　to　see　what　he　had　tripped　over。
A　hand；　blue　and　frozen；　was　protruding　from　the　snow。
Solon　swore　and　staggered　back；　pointing　frantically　at　the　frozen　hand。　The　soldier　nodded
grimly　and　motioned　for　him　to　keep　moving。
Tearing　his　eyes　from　the　grisly　display；　Solon　hurried　to　catch　up　with　the　rest　of　the　group。　His
breathing　was　coming　in　short；　sharp　gasps；　sounding　too　loud　in　the　enclosed　space　of　his　mask。
The　group　moved　around　the　front　of　the　crawler；　and　Solon　saw　that　the　reflective　plasglass　of
the　cabin　had　been　shattered。　Several　holes　had　been　punched　through　the　front　chassis　of　the
crawler；　and　Solon　marvelled　at　the　immense　power　of　the　blasts。　The　front　of　the　crawlers　were
heavily　armoured；　allowing　them　to　push　through　ice；　rock　and　snow　if　necessary；　and　he　had　been
led　to　believe　that　even　a　lascannon　would　be　unable　to　pierce　its　reinforced　layers。　Whatever　had
struck　this　crawler　though　had　made　a　mockery　of　his　teaching。
The　soldiers　moved　warily　around　the　side　of　the　crawler；　and　Solon　froze　as　the　sergeant　raised
his　hand。
One　of　the　soldiers　dropped　to　one　knee　at　the　corner　of　the　crawler　and　risked　a　quick　glance
around　it　before　giving　the　all　clear　and　moving　on。
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They　were　out　of　the　worst　of　the　wind　behind　the　lee　side　of　the　crawler；　and　Solon　breathed　a
sigh　of　relief　to　be　out　of　the　relentless　gale。　The　snow　was　not　banked　up　so　heavily　here；　and　with
a　flurry　of　hand　signals；　the　sergeant　relayed　his　orders。
One　of　the　cargo　bay　doors　was　wide　open；　and　one　of　the　soldiers　warily　climbed　the　icy　ladder
up　to　the　cavernous　opening。　As　he　crouched　below　the　lip　of　the　cargo　bay；　he　raised　his　lasgun　and
clicked　on　the　powerful　light　under…slung　below　the　barrel。
Rising　up　on　the　ladder；　the　soldier　held　his　lasgun　to　his　shoulder　and　swung　the　beam　of　his
light　around　within　the　crawler’s　cargo　hold。　He　signalled　the　all　clear；　and　climbed　up　into　the
interior；　disappearing　from　sight。　The　other　soldiers　moved　towards　the　ladder；　Solon　being　herded
in　the　centre　of　the　group。
Sergeant　Folches　and　one　of　his　men　ascended　quickly；　while　the　other　members　of　the　squad
covered　them；　and　then　Solon　was　signalled　to　climb　up。
His　bulky　exposure　suit　made　the　climb　difficult　and　he　was　breathing　hard　as　he　reached　the
top。　Sergeant　Folches　grabbed　him　under　one　arm　and　hauled　him　over　the　edge；　his　pistol　held　at
the　ready　in　his　other　hand。
The　sergeant　held　up　a　hand　for　Solon　to　stay　put　and　his　soldiers　began　advancing　through　the
darkened　cargo　hold；　the　focused　beams　of　their　lights　swinging　left　and　right。　They　were　swallowed