Gunheads(科幻战争)-第14部分

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dead　within　a　day。　Nothing　could　be　done　to　save　them。　The　dust　had　poisoned　them。　Liver；　kidneys；
lungs；　everything　was　shutting　down。　The　other　nine　would　almost　certainly　follow　soon　afterwards
if　they　didn’t　get　specialist　medical　care。　With　hopes　of　finding　Exolon　having　dwindled　to　almost
nothing；　that　didn’t　seem　probable。　Van　Droi’s　anger　and　frustration　got　the　better　of　him　a　few
times；　and　he　vented　inside　the　turret　of　his　tank；　where　his　shouts　and　curses　were　drowned　out　by
the　rumble　of　the　engine。
Colonel　Stromm　made　a　difficult　decision　regarding　the　seriously　ill；　he　withheld　their　water　and
provisions。　There　was　nothing　to　be　gained　by　spending　scarce　resources　on　men　who　simply
weren’t　going　to　last　much　longer。　This；　of　course；　did　not　sit　well　with　friends　of　the　dying　men。
There　were　sharp　protestations　that　came　near　to　violence；　but　the　platoon　leaders　cracked　down
hard。
Van　Droi　didn’t　judge　Stromm　for　the　extremity　of　the　measure。　Stromm　had　given　him　a
chance　to　object；　but；　to　a　practical　man　like　van　Droi；　it　made　perfect；　if　unpleasantly　harsh；　sense。
Ultimately；　the　two　medics　resolved　the　issue；　administering　large　doses　of　anaesthesium　to　the
worst　afflicted；　letting　them　die　peacefully　in　a　drug…induced　sleep。
With　the　column　stopping　only　briefly；　grim；　hollow…faced　troopers　buried　their　dead　comrades
in　the　sand。　There　was　no　Ministorum　man　to　pray　for　them；　but　one　of　Stromm’s　lieutenants；　a　man
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called　Boyd；　had　trained　briefly　as　a　confessor　before　abandoning　the　so…called　Righteous　Road　in
order　to　enlist　in　the　Guard。　He　said　a　few　words　for　the　souls　of　the　dead；　and　the　column　moved
on；　lighter　in　number；　heavier　in　spirit。
The　mood　got　even　worse　when　Stromm　had　his　lieutenants　issue　empty　jerry　cans　and
additional　water　purification　tablets　to　everyone。　If　they　wanted　to　survive　beyond　the　next　few
days；　he　told　them；　they　would　have　to　drink　the　undrinkable。　They　would　have　to　drink　their　own
urine。
As　if　the　lost　Cadians　didn’t　have　enough　problems；　the　dawn　of　the　sixteenth　day　brought　more　bad
news。　As　the　cloud…smothered　sun　rose　once　more；　casting　its　dull　red　glow　over　the　desert；　the　voxlink
began　to　erupt　with　anxious　chatter。　The　intercom　system　aboard　Foe…Breaker　did　likewise。
“There　must　be　millions　of　them！”　yelled　Bullseye　Dietz。　“There’s　no　beating　numbers　like　that；
sir。　They　won’t　be　on　foot；　not　moving　at　that　speed。”
Dietz　wasn’t　wrong。　Orks　were　closing　in　on　them。　Judging　by　the　dark　line　that　had　appeared　in
the　southeast　with　the　coming　of　day；　there　were　far　too　many　of　them　to　engage。　Raising　his　head
so　that　he　could　peer　through　his　tank’s　vision　blocks；　van　Droi　looked　again；　hoping　that　somehow
his　mind　had　played　a　trick　on　him；　that　it　had　exaggerated　the　size　of　the　enemy　force。
It　hadn’t。
The　horizon　was　seething　with　them。　How　close　were　they？　Between　the　heat　haze；　the　dust　and
the　mirage…line；　it　was　practically　impossible　to　tell。　That　they　were　visible　at　all；　van　Droi　decided；
meant　they　were　too　damned　close　by　far。
The　greenskin　host　had　moved　up　during　the　hours　of　darkness；　unnoticed　by　exhausted；
overheated；　dehydrated　men　more　intent　on　fighting　sleep　and　sickness　than　fighting　the　enemies　of
mankind。
The　Cadians　were　being　chased　down。　Perhaps　this　greenskin　war　party　had　stumbled　onto　their
tracks；　following　them　out　from　the　drop…ship　crashsite；　easily　tracing　them　by　the　deep　furrows　the
tanks　made　in　the　sand。　Now；　the　prey　was　in　sight。
“Nails；”　said　van　Droi；　“keep　her　bloody　speed　up。　And　I　want　to　know　the　moment　you　feel
anything　out　of　order；　the　slightest　jink　or　engine　stutter；　any　give　in　the　shocks　or　the　drive　train。
You　got　that？　Let’s　not　have　a　repeat　of　what　happened　to　Siemens。　We　won’t　have　time　to　frak
about　with　repairs。”
“Don’t　you　worry；　boss；”　replied　Nails。　“We’re　sympatico；　this　girl　and　me。　She　won’t　let　us
down。　Sympatico；　says　I。”
It　took　a　lot　to　faze　Karl　“Nails”　Nalzigg。　He　had　earned　his　nickname　the　hard　way　back　in　the
days　before　he　had　joined　van　Droi’s　crew。　He　had　earned　a　few　medals　to　go　with　it；　too。　Van　Droi
wished　he　shared　his　driver’s　easy　confidence；　but　Foe…Breaker　had　suffered　engine　trouble　twice
already　in　the　days　since　planetfall。　Not　her　fault；　of　course。
Van　Droi’s　old　girl　was　only　as　prone　to　stalling　as　any　of　the　other　machines。　With　every
passing　hour；　another　would　stop　dead；　refusing　to　start　again　until　the　contacts　on　its　engines　were
properly　cleared　of　the　red　dust。
To　van　Droi’s　knowledge；　there　was　only　a　single　exception。
Wulfe’s　old　crate　hadn’t　stalled　once　in　all　the　time　since　the　crash。　She　might　look　her　age；
thought　van　Droi；　but　Last　Rites　II　had　already　proved　that　she’d　got　what　it　takes　under　the　engine
covers。
He　hadn’t　mentioned　it　to　Wulfe；　but；　of　all　the　tanks　assigned　to　replace　the　losses　from
Palmeros；　van　Droi　had　hand…picked　the　Mars…Alpha　pattern　Leman　Russ　out　for　the　sergeant
personally。　Wulfe　had　taken　the　loss　of　his　old　machine　badly。　What　kind　of　tanker；　after　all；　could
ride　into　battle　time　after　time　in　the　same　tank；　come　out　alive　when　so　many　around　him　died；　and
not　feel　some　kind　of　special　bond　with　her？　It　was　exactly　the　way　van　Droi　felt　about　Foe…
Breaker。
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His　choice　of　replacement　tank　for　Wulfe　seemed　to　have　backfired；　though。　The　rugged
sergeant　hadn’t　taken　to　Last　Rites　II　at　all。　In　fact；　he　seemed　to　think　van　Droi　had　assigned　him
the　new　tank　out　of　spite。　Van　Droi　wanted　to　believe　it　was　simply　a　matter　of　time；　that　Wulfe
would　come　around　soon　enough；　but；　with　the　ork　host　tailing　them；　time　looked　like　it　might　be
up。　How　fast　were　the　ork　machines　chasing　them？　There　would　be　buggies　in　their　hundreds。
Assault　bikes；　too；　perhaps。　Might　they　even　have　air　support？　Bombers？　Greenskins　were　certainly
insane　enough　to　fly　in　such　dangerous　skies。
A　red　light　began　flickering　on　the　vox…board　by　van　Droi’s　left　shoulder。　He　turned　in　his
command　seat；　flipped　the　toggle　that　turned　the　light　green；　and　said；　“10th　Company　Command
here。　Go　ahead。”
“Tenth；　this　is　Regiment；”　said　Colonel　Stromm。　“It　looks　like　we’re　caught　between　a　rock　and
a　hard　place。　Have　you　looked　south…east　recently？”
“I　have；　sir；”　said　van　Droi。　“Don’t　like　the　view　much。　Very　difficult　to　estimate　party　strength
given　distance　and　conditions；　but　I　think　it’s　fair　to　say　we’re　a　little　outnumbered。　Assuming　the
majority　of　those　green…skins　are　on　wheels；　they　could　well　catch　us　by　midday。”
“The　galaxy　does　like　to　stack　the　odds　against　us；　doesn’t　it；　lieutenant？”　said　Stromm。
“No　glory　in　easy　victories；　sir。　Still；　a　man　should　know　his　limits。”
“Or　in　this　case；”　replied　Stromm；　“the　limits　of　his　machines。　I　think…　Hold　on　a　moment；
lieutenant。”
Stromm　cut　the　link。　A　few　seconds　later；　the　same　light　on　van　Droi’s　vox…board　started
flashing　again。　He　hit　the　toggle。　“Sir？”
“Sorry　about　that；　van　Droi；”　said　Stromm。　“Just　got　word　from　our　scouts。　I’ll　let　you　judge　for
yourself　whether　it’s　good　or　bad。　He’s　reporting　a　massive　dust　storm　up　ahead。　Point　your
magnoculars　a　few　degrees　east　of　our　current　heading。　You　can　just　about　make　it　out。”
“It’s　going　to　hit？”
“Soon；　apparently。　It’s　moving　fast。　If　we　cut　south…east　we　can　probably　escape　the　worst　of　it；
but—”
“But　it’ll　put　us　within　easy　striking　range　of　the　orks　at　our　back；　sir。　By　the　blasted　Eye！”
“You　said　it；　lieutenant。　I’m　not　about　to　order　our　lads　into　a　battle　we　won’t　survive　without　a
damned　good　reason。　I　say　we　head　straight　into　the　storm。　Take　our　chances。　If　anything；　it　might
serve　to　cover　our　tracks。　We　might　actually　lose　the　bastards。　What　do　you　say？”
It’s　a　ballsy　move；　thought　van　Droi。　There’s　plenty　that　could　go　wrong。　On　the　other　hand…
“The　machine…spirits　aren’t　going　to　like　it；　sir；”　he　said。　“I’d　put　money　on　mechanical　failures。
Any　estimates　on　how　long　the　storm　will　last？　We　won’t　be　able　to　see　a　damned　thing　while　we’re
in　there。　If　we　move　at　all；　it’ll　have　to　be　very　slowly。”
“There’s　no　way　to　say　how　long；　van　Droi；”　voxed　Stromm。　“The　environmental　summaries　the
Mechanicus　issued　during　warp　transit　painted　a　pretty　bleak　picture。　Some　storms　last　a　few　hours；
others　last　days；　even　weeks。”
“That’s　one　hell　of　a　gamble；　sir。”
“Are　you　much　of　a　gambling　man；　lieutenant？”
“I　guess　I　am　today；”　said　van　Droi。
“That’s　what　I　thought。　Let’s　roll　the　dice　and　hope　for　the　best。　And　may　the　Emperor’s　luck　be
with　us。　Stromm　out。”
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CHAPTER　ELEVEN
Colonel　Stromm　ordered　his　column　to　a　complete　stop　as　it　was　hit　by　the　fringes　of　the　coming
dust　storm。　Visibility　had　dropped　to　about　fifty　metres　already。　The　air　around　the　Imperial
machines　was　dark　with　veils　of　gusting　sand；　and　the　wind　howled；　rocking　the　vehicles　on　their
suspension。　The　sky　was　gone　from　view。　On　the　colonel’s　orders；　anxious　men　emerged　from
hatches　and　cabin　doors　with　their　faces　goggled　and　masked；　their　bodies　covered　as　much　as
possible　against　the　stinging　assault　of　the　hard　red　grains。
Their　voices　didn’t　travel　far。　Words　already　muffled　by　rebreather　masks　were　snatched　away
by　the　rising　storm。　Van　Droi　was　forced　to　shout　at　the　top　of　his　voice。　“Hurry　it　up。　I　want　all　the
tanks　chained　together　before　it　gets　any　worse　out　here。　Come　on。　Only　a　few　minutes　left。　Work
faster。”
The　Gunheads　hauled　heavy　steel　chains　from　the　stowage　bins　on　the　rear　of　each　tank　and
worked　hard　to　attach　them　to　the　towing　pegs　at　the　front　and　back　of　their　machines。
“Twenty　metres　between　each　tank；”　shouted　van　Droi。　He　wished　he　had　a　vox…amp　handy。　The
bead　he　wore　in　his　right　ear　linked　him　to　his　tank　commanders；　but　the　crews　didn’t　wear　such
advanced　tech。　They　took　their　orders　through　their　tanks’　intercom　systems。　There　was　no　time　for
van　Droi　to　return　to　Foe…Breaker　and　dig　out　a　vox…amp　now；　though。　The　winds　were　really
picking　up。　The　men　worked　quickly　despite　their　thirst　and　fatigue。　Some　struggled　through　bouts
of　coughing　that　doubled　them　over　in　pain　and　discomfort；　but　they　fought　through　it　to　get　the　job
done。　It　was　just　as　well　they　did。　In　the　few　minutes　it　took　to　link　all　the　tanks　together；　the　storm
had　become　incredibly　fierce。　Visibility　dropped　another　ten　metres。　Then　another。　Then　another。
Van　Droi　could　only　just　make　out　the　red　silhouette　of　the　tanks　to　the　front　and　rear　of　his　own。
The　wind　was　buffeting　him　so　hard　that　it　almost　pitched　him　from　his　feet　as　he　reached　up　to
climb　back　into　his　turret。
After　wrestling　his　way　up　Foe…Breaker’s　back；　he　dropped　down　into　her　basket；　slamming　and
locking　the　hatch　above　him。　Hitting　the　intercom；　he　said；　“Are　we　all　buttoned　up；　lads？”
“Tighter　than　a　governor’s　daughter；　sir；”　said　Waller。　He　had　been　van　Droi’s　loader　for　more
than　ten　years；　a　compact；　ruddy…faced　man；　good　at　his　work；　but　a　truculent　devil　when　he　had　a
bit　of　drink　in　him。
“Right　then；”　said　van　Droi。　“We　wait　for　Stromm’s　lot　to　finish；　then　roll　forward　nice　and
slow。”
Seated　out　of　eyesight　behind　his　crew；　he　allowed　himself　a　small　shake　of　the　head。　This　is　a
bit　of　bloody　madness；　he　thought。　If　it　weren’t　for　the　orks　at　our　backs…
“Van　Droi　to　Colonel　Stromm；”　he　voxed。　“Can　you　hear　me；　sir？”
“Not　too　well；　van　Droi；”　said　Stromm；　“but　go　ahead。”　The　clarity　of　the　transmission　was
terrible。　The　dust…storm　had　brought　with　it　a　shocking　drop　in　the　quality　of　short…range　comms。　If
it　got　much　worse；　van　Droi　thought；　they　might　lose　comms　altogether。　That　would　ground　them
here　completely　until　the　storm　passed。
“My　crates　are　linked　and　ready。　Awaiting　your　order　to　move　out；　sir。”
“Hold　on　for　another　minute；　van　Droi。　The　last　of　my　lot　are　getting　hooked　together　now。
Can’t　believe　how　bad　it　is　out　there。　Throne　help　those　poor　lads　in　the　soft…tops。　I　hope　the　extra
tarps　will　be　enough　to　protect　them。”
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Van　Droi　grimaced。　He　was　worried　too。　It　hadn’t　been　possible　to　squeeze　everyone　from　the
open…backed　trucks　and　halftracks　into　sealed　cabins　and　the　troop　compartments　of　the　Chimeras；
but　they　had　done　their　best。　As　few　men　as　possible　were　left　to　endure　the　storm　in　the　less
protected　vehicles。　They　had　been　given　as　much　extra　cover　as　was　available　to　protect　them；　but
Van　Droi　had　no　idea　just　how　much　worse　the　storm　was　likely　to　get。
“I’m　sure　they’ll　be　all　right；　sir；”　he　said；　managing　to　sound　far　more　positive　than　he　felt。
“One　moment；　lieutenant。”
There　was　a　pause　and　a　flicker　of　vox…board　lights。　Then　the　colonel　returned。　“The　last　of　my
machines　has　been　linked　up；　van　Droi。　Have　your　tanks　lead　us　out。　Keep　the　speed　to　a　steady　ten
kilometres　per　hour；　no　more；　no　less。”
“Ten　it　is；　sir。　Giving　the　order　now。”
“Very　good；　Armour。　Stromm；　out。”
“You　all　ready　for　this？”　van　Droi　asked　his　crew。
The　half…hearted　grunts　that　came　back　to　him　over　the　intercom　spoke　volumes　about　how　his
crew　felt　riding　blind。　There　was　no　hiding　their　anxiety。
Van　Droi　flicked　over　to　the　company　command　channel　and　said；　“Company　Commander　to　all
tanks。　Confirm　readiness　to　deploy。”
“Spear　Leader　confirms；”　came　the　static…riddled　response　from　Sergeant　Rhaimes。
Spear　One’s　confirmation　followed；　then；　Spear　Two’s。　So　it　went　until　all　eight　of　van　Droi’s
surviving　tank　commanders　had　called　in。
“Keep　your　crates　absolutely　steady　at　ten　per　hour。　Stay　on　this　heading。　I　don’t　want　any
accidents。　Cold　Deliverance　has　point。　Corporal　Muller；　lead　us　out。”
One　by　one；　the　tanks　of　10th　Company　started　to　edge　forward　blindly；　tow　chains　giving　out
metallic　groans　as　they　went　taut。
The　rumble　of　Foe…Breaker’s　engine　deepened；　and　she　lurched　forward　gently　as　her　gears
caught；　feeding　power　to　the　massive　axle　that　turned　her　drive　sprocket。　The　heavy；　cog…like　wheel
turned；　iron　teeth　pulling　link　after　link　towards　it；　driving　the　tank　forward　slowly　and　steadily。　The
tank　directly　in　front　of　Foe…Breaker　—　Corporal　Fuchs’　Rage　Imperius　—　was　practically　invisible
now。　Van　Droi　checked　the　rear　vision　blocks　and　found　that　the　tank　behind　—　Corporal　Kurtz’s
The　Adamantine　—　was　just　as　difficult　to　see。　The　screech　of　grinding　metal　sounded　over　the
howling　wind　and　the　rumble　of　the　engine　as　hooks　took　the　strain　against　towing　pegs。
“Keep　her　real　steady；　won’t　you；　Nails？”　said　van　Droi。
“Sure　thing；　sir；”　replied　the　grizzled　old　driver。　His　voice　was　clear。　The　tank’s　intercom　system
wasn’t　affected　by　the　storm　in　the　same　way　the　vox…link　was。　“As　steady　as　Waller’s　hands　after　a
few　bottles　of　the　rough　stuff。”
Van　Droi　frowned。　That　wasn’t　very　steady　at　all。
Lenck’s　men　were　far　more　worried　than　he　was；　and　they　weren’t　beyond　showing　it。　As　the　New
Champion　rolled　forward；　they　grumbled　and　griped　on　the　intercom；　snapping　at　each　other；　letting
their　nerves　get　the　better　of　them。　Lenck　tuned　them　out。
As　the　storm　intensified；　gusts　battering　against　his　tank；　rocking　her　as　if　she　weighed　far　less
than　her　sixty…three　tonnes；　he　sat　back　in　his　command　seat；　idly　playing　with　the　cruelly　serrated
knife　he　kept　in　his　boot。　It　was　a　non…regulation　blade；　officially　forbidden；　but　it　had　saved　his
neck　a　few　times　back　in　the　reserves；　particularly　when　bigger　men　came　looking　for　him；　burning
with　anger；　ready　to　pulp　him　for　cheating　them　out　of　money　or　bedding　their　women。　Most　lost　the
will　to　fight　after　they’d　been　cut　a　few　times。
Lenck　rated　himself　with　a　blade。
He　hadn’t　needed　to　use　his　little　equaliser　since　joining　the　81st　Armoured；　but　he　was　sure
there　would　come　a　time。　Sooner　or　later；　someone　would　come　looking　for　him　with　a　mind　to　do
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some　damage。　He　had　a　feeling　it　would　be　Sergeant　Wulfe。　Most　of　the　men　in　10th　Company　were
younger　than　Lenck；　recent　reinforcements　who　looked　up　to　him　for　one　reason　or　another。　It　was
something　different　for　each；　but　Lenck　could　always　find　it　and　use　it　to　his　advantage。　For　some；　it
was　his　skill　with　women　that　they　envied。　They　wanted　to　share　in　the　secret　of　his　success；　not
realising　there　was　no　secret；　he　was　simply　better　than　they　were。　For　others；　it　was　his　ability　to
procure　the　things　without　which　some　men　found　Guard　life　unbearable；　from　extra　smokes　or
booze　all　the　way　up　to　restricted　meds。　Before　that　damned　drop…ship　had　ditched　him　on　the　red
sands；　Lenck　had　enjoyed　a　nice　little　arrangement　with　a　certain　medicae　officer　whose　sinful
appetites　he　had　threatened　to　reveal　to　a　member　of　the　Ministorum。　The　man　would　have　faced
execution　for　sure。　Throne　knew　where　the　bloody　clown　was　now。　Maybe　he　had　made　it　down　on
another　ship。　Maybe　he　was　dead。　No　matter。　When　Lenck　got　out　of　this　mess　—　and　he　knew　he
would；　for　if　he　believed　in　anything；　it　was　that　he　had　been　born　lucky　—　he　would　find　another
source。　Everyone　could　be　bent　to　his　will　one　way　or　another。
That　thought　brought　him　to　the　curious　matter　of　Victor　Dunst；　and　he　felt　a　rare　flash　of
irritation。　Dunst；　whoever　he　was；　seemed　to　be　the　reason　that　Sergeant　Wulfe　had　it　in　for　him。
Lenck　wanted　details；　sure　that　the　knowledge　would　give　him　the　upper　hand；　but　he　had　no　idea
how　to　get　them。　Wulfe’s　crew　seemed　to　dislike　him　just　as　much　as　their　precious　commander　did；
especially　that　bastard　Holtz；　the　one　with　the　mashed…up　groxburger　for　a　face。
“Ain’t　you　listening；　Lenck？”　growled　Varnuss　over　the　intercom。
“No；　I’m　not；”　said　Lenck；　“but　don’t　let　that　stop　you。”
The　big　loader　turned　to　scowl；　tattoos　on　his　neck　and　shoulders　rippling　as　the　muscles　under
them　shifted；　but　he　changed　his　mind　when　he　saw　the　way　Lenck　was　stroking　his　knife。　He　turned
back　to　his　station　and　muttered；　“I　said　it’s　getting　worse　out　there；　not　better。　Look　through　the
vision　blocks。　It’s　like　night…time；　only　its　all　red。　We　shouldn’t　be　moving　at　all。”
“Least　we’re　not　out　in　front　like　Cold　Deliverance；”　said　Riesmann；　chipping　in。　“Second　in
line　suits　me　fine。　I　wouldn’t　want　to　be　on　Muller’s　crew　for　love　nor　money。”
“And　that’s　saying　something；”　Lenck　quipped；　“since　you’ve　always　had　so　damned　little　of
either。　Relax；　both　of　you。　That’s　an　order。　You　don’t　hear　Hobbs　complaining；　do　you？”
“He　only　stopped　“cos　you　threatened　to　fix　it　so　everyone　in　the　army　group　thinks　he’s　a　fruit；”
replied　Riesmann　sourly。
“Right；”　laughed　Lenck；　“and　the　same　goes　for　you。　Think　of　it　like　this：　so　long　as　we’re　stuck
in　this　storm；　van　Droi　and　that　flag…waving　fool　of　an　infantry　colonel　have　enough　to　worry　about。
We’re　not　out　in　front。　Hobbs　is　doing　all　the　driving。　All　we　can　do　is　sit　back　and　ride　it　out。”
The　others　didn’t　reply。　They　listened　to　the　wind　for　a　moment　as　it　screamed　around　the　edges
of　the　tank。　Lenck　could　hear　the　tow　chains　creaking。　Riesmann　and　Varnuss　glanced　at　each　other
nervously。
“What’re　they　saying　on　the　vox？”　Riesmann　asked。
“Nothing；”　Lenck　replied。
“You　sure？　The　lights　are　on。　Someone’s　talking。”
“It’s　just　interference；”　said　Lenck。　He　reached　into　one　of　the　stowage　bins　and　pulled　out　a
green　metal　jerry　c