We circled east. There was enough gaps in the mangroves this close to the deeper water of the lake that, even without Garm, it wasn't a challenge. I pulled my hood up. My hunting clothes weren't a particularly close match to the fatigues the enemy were wearing, but they were sufficiently different from the furs and leather of the locals to make it clear I was an off worlder. My hair was in a severe braid, which I concealed beneath the foul weather hood. Clara and Selenica took similar precautions. It wasn't certain that the presence of so many women would arouse suspicion, but it was a risk we were all keen to avoid. I brought the Helix-2 though there was no chance I would be able to get the massive thing unlimbered in time to bring it into action, so I gripped my thousander under my weather cloak and hoped for the best.

The dock was a metal platform on pontoons bolted to the side of the ferocrete levy. The lake wasn't big enough to have appreciable tides but this was off the shelf tech meant for somewhere that did. A small crane had been attached to the central section to facilitate the transfer of heavy loads from the water side to the mud side, its yellow and black lifting arm surprisingly bright and cheerful amidst the drab natural colors. Two men in flak armor stood smoking low sticks, both in the small patch of shade provided by the crane. The moment they saw us they tossed the lho sticks they had been smoking into the water and unshipped las rifles. These weren't the gilded show pieces we had seen in the hands of the natives. They were dark compact weapons, with underslung lumens and other personalized upgrades. Professional mercenaries almost certainly. I wondered how Nagrip had accomplished this impressive, if crude, piece of engineering. Clearly he was more than the minor warp dabbler Hadrian had imagined when we set out. He had funding and support, maybe even Mechanicus support to get all this done. Hadrian clambered to his feet and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Get us an enginseer, barge crapped out about two clicks out!" he bellowed, sounding extremely irritated. The guards were gripping their rifles but not pointing them. I wondered if I dared give them a nudge with my mind, but decided against it. Something was wrong with this place. I had no knowledge of the planets hydrography but it seemed impossible that a city could by laying under the mud like this without being many thousands of years old, probably pre-imperial and xenos to boot. They were a sour an unpleasant taste in the back of my mind and I wasn't eager to swim in such murky waters.

"Who the frak are you!?" one of the guards called, lifting his las gun to point at us. The skiff continued towards them no faster than a swift walk.

"Who the frak do you think I am?!" Hadrian thundered, "Now get us a damn enginseer before the locals decided to come back and sink our damn barge while we can't move it! Do you know what the boss will do to us if we lose that shipment?"

It was a masterful performance, edged with enough irritation and interest to hold their attention as we approached. We were perhaps ten feet away when Clara reached down and took out a length of locally made rope. As she drew her arm back one of the guards must have realised something was amiss, he began to swing his weapon down and open his mouth to shout. Clara threw the rope, casting it wide so both men ducked involuntarily to avoid it, her other hand came around and hurled something small and metallic. The frag grenade struck the closest thug in to top of the head with an audible crack, having ducked into its trajectory, he dropped his gun and staggered backwards, bright blood leaking from his crown. The grenade bounced back, striking the concrete and plopping into the filthy water, the pin having never been pulled. The second guard reared back but Hadrian whipped out his sword and threw it overhand with a spin like a trala spike. It hit the second mercenary in the throat punching through his neck and glancing off his spine, dropping him to the ground with blood gouting from his severed blood vessels. Clara leaped the remaining four feet and scrambled up onto the dock, but the man she had brained with the grenade was recovering, staggering drunkenly towards Clara and clawing for his pistol. Even stunned he was good, catching her wrist before she could jab the short knife into him. She twisted him around, towards the edge of the dock but it could only be a moment before he screamed or managed to engage his vox. I brought the paddle down on the back of his head as hard as I could. I felt vertebrae and skull crack under the force of the blow, and he dropped like a polaxed grox. Clara's grip was all that kept him from tumbling into the water, guiding him down so we didn't soak a uniform we would momentarily need.

I dropped the paddle as Clara tied up the skiff, climbing out awkwardly, nearly falling into the drink as my weight pushed the gunnel down towards the water. Selenica looked pale but followed behind, the pair of us keeping watch while Clara and Hadrian pulled on the uniforms of the dead enforcers. I crept to the edge and looked down towards the unsettling city. A broad moat had been dug for the purpose of drainage and I saw big promethum powered pumps off to the west, spraying water out over the levees in three giant muddy geysers. Beyond the moat the ground rose slightly to the city. The buildings on this side had been cleared. The undertaking seemed immense until I saw how it was being done, through my hunters magnocular I could see filthy looking men, off world laborers judging by their garb, spraying muddy water from a great hose, effectively sluicing the mud which encrusted the buildings down into the moat. Only after they had done all they could did the slaves move in with brooms and buckets. On the western side of the city I could see barracks made out of plastec sheeting. The space between the wall and the moat was grooved by what looked like a giant sledge, hooked to the wall at one end and pilings at the other by cables that allowed it to be drawn back and forth across the mud. Presumably equipment and supplies were craned down onto it and then it was slid across the intervening space to the mostly cleared streets. I could see slaves acting as stevedores, hauling crates of supplies out of sight and into the city. The more I saw, the less I liked.