Gunheads(科幻战争)-第21部分

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“You　know；”　said　Killian；　“with　luck　and　a　prayer；　the　bloody　orks　might　well　have　moved　on。　I
didn’t　see　any　movement。　No　signs　of　occupation　at　all。　I　mean；　who　knows　how　old　that　thing　is？”
DeViers　shook　his　head。　“No；　Klotus。　They’re　there　all　right。　It　took　a　lot　of　work　to　make　that
wall。　Our　prize　lies　behind　it。　And　I’m　damned　sure　that　the　xenos　filth　who　made　it　are　still　behind
it；　too。”
“Honestly；　sir；”　said　Rennkamp。　“A　single　Vulcan。　Just　one　fast　sweep　and　we’ll　know　for　sure。”
“And　put　the　whole　damned　greenskin　horde　on　immediate　high　alert？　No；　Aaron。　No　aerial
recon。　The　Vulcans　can’t　fly　high　enough　in　this　accursed　weather　to　evade　detection。　Give　me
something　else。”
“A　Hornet　then；　sir；”　said　Bergen。　“A　single　Hornet　reconnaissance　bike　might　be　mistaken　for
one　of　the　orks’　own　at　long　range。　That’s　no　guarantee　they　won’t　fire　on　it　anyway；　of　course；　but
if　we’re　lucky；　it’ll　draw　a　lot　less　attention　and　still　let　us　get　a　man　close　enough　to　make　a
difference。”
DeViers　nodded。　“That　sounds　feasible。　Make　it　happen。　Get　the　best　scout　we　have　out　there。
Someone　with　experience。　I’ll　want　a　full　report；　including　a　list　of　as　many　weak　points　as　possible；
within　the　hour。”
Bergen　saluted　and　moved　off　to　see　it　done。
It　didn’t　take　an　hour。　It　was　only　forty　minutes　later　that　the　Hornet　rider　chosen　for　the
reconnaissance　run　reported　back　to　Colonel　Marrenburg。　The　colonel　cut　the　scout’s　verbal　report
short；　ordering　him　to　save　it　for　the　general’s　command　tent　where　the　army　group’s　senior　officers
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—　more　than　a　dozen　men　ranking　colonel　and　higher　—　awaited　them。　Marrenburg　then　led　his
man　over　the　red　sand　and　in　through　the　tent　flap。　The　day　was　already　baking　hot。
In　the　cooler　shade　of　the　general’s　tent；　Marrenburg　introduced　his　scout　to　the　assembled
officers。
“Gentlemen；”　he　said　proudly；　“this　is　Sergeant　Bussmann。　He’s　the　best　damned　scout　in　my
outfit。　You　can　have　absolute　confidence　in　his　report；　I　assure　you。”
Since　Sergeant　Bussmann　belonged　to　Bergen’s　division；　deViers　asked　Bergen　to　conduct　the
briefing；　giving　the　general　and　the　others　a　chance　to　concentrate　on　the　details　and　any　questions
they　needed　to　ask。　There　wasn’t　much　good　news。　Judging　by　the　sergeant’s　account；　the　wall　was
more　daunting　the　closer　one　got　to　it。　Whatever　lay　inside　must　have　been　of　great　value　to　the
greenskins；　for　they　had　expended　tremendous　resources　in　its　construction；　resources　that　might
otherwise　have　gone　into　the　construction　of　hundreds；　if　not　thousands；　of　their　war　machines。
This　bothered　Bergen　on　two　counts。　Firstly；　it　suggested　that　the　orks　had　enough　resources　to
be　able　to　afford　such　a　grand　static　defence。　This　led　him　to　suspect　they　had　established　ore
refineries　somewhere。　Were　they　close　by？　Golgotha　had　been　selected　for　occupation　by　the
Adeptus　Mechanicus　centuries　ago　for　the　amount　and　variety　of　metals　deep　within　its　crust。　It
wasn’t　much　of　a　stretch　to　believe　the　orks　were　taking　similar　advantage　of　the　resources。
Secondly；　the　use　of　so　much　valuable　metal　in　construction　of　the　wall　could　only　mean　that
whatever　lay　on　the　other　side　was　something　the　orks　considered　very　important。　Yes；　they　were
beastlike　and　savage；　but　they　could　be　cunning；　too。　They　weren’t　nearly　as　mindless　as　men
believed。　They　had　built　a　wall；　and　there　had　to　be　a　good　reason。
As　he　listened　to　Bussmann；　Bergen　found　himself　wondering　if　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance
might　not　be　the　thing　the　aliens　were　trying　to　protect。　Had　they　known　all　along　that　the　Imperium
would　come　back　to　Golgotha　to　collect　it？　Had　they　planned　and　built　the　wall　knowing　that　the
fight　would　come　to　them？
Bussmann　reported　large　amounts　of　artillery　present　on　the　parapets。　Some　of　the　barrels　he　had
seen　extending　out　from　between　the　wall’s　teeth　were　unnervingly　broad；　chambered　for　rounds　of
such　size　they　might　have　been　more　at　home　on　the　prow　of　an　interstellar　battleship。
That’s　it　then；　thought　Bergen。　They　must　still　be　here。　There’s　no　way　the　greenskins　would
leave　weapons　like　that　behind。　By　the　blasted　Eye；　we’ve　got　a　fight　on　our　hands。
It　had　been　impossible　for　Bussmann　to　gauge　the　thickness　of　the　wall　and　how　well　it　would
stand　up　to　the　weaponry　of　the　18th　Army　Group；　but　it　certainly　looked　like　it　could　take　a
beating。　On　the　other　hand；　some　of　the　plates　were　rusting；　and　orks　rarely　built　anything　with
consistent　strength　throughout。　There　would　be　irregularities　in　the　structure　that　Exolon　could
exploit　if　only　they　could　find　them。
The　question　was；　would　they　have　the　chance？　Bussmann　had　spotted　numerous　hinged　plates
set　in　the　wall　at　apparently　random　points。　A　few　of　them　had　fallen　off；　their　bolts　having　rusted；
revealing　the　nature　of　the　others。　They　were　firing　ports；　and　the　cannon　they　hid　were　massive。
At　the　end　of　his　report；　Sergeant　Bussmann　cast　a　somewhat　anxious　glance　at　Colonel
Marrenburg。　Then　he　took　a　deep　breath　and　said；　“In　my　opinion；　sirs；　a　direct　frontal　assault　on　the
ork　wall　will　result　in　very　heavy　losses。　If　it　were　up　to　me—”
“Sergeant；”　snapped　Marrenburg；　cutting　Bussmann　off。　“You　will　restrict　yourself　to　answering
direct　questions。”
Bussmann　flushed　and　an　angry　look　stole　across　his　face；　but　he　said；　“I　apologise　if　I　spoke　out
of　turn；　sir。”
General　deViers　cleared　his　throat　and　addressed　the　sergeant。　“We’ll　overlook　it　this　time；
sergeant；　but　think　on　this：　without　hardship　there　can　be　no　glory。　Show　me　something　worth　doing
that　doesn’t　have　its　price。”
Bergen　wanted　to　roll　his　eyes；　and；　judging　by　the　sergeant’s　sudden　look　of　disbelief；
Bussmann　felt　the　same。　Before　the　scout　could　dig　himself　a　deeper　hole；　however；　Bergen　jumped
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in　and　said；　“Thank　you　very　much　for　your　report；　sergeant。　Your　service　today　has　been　noted。
Unless　the　general　wishes　to　ask　anything　else…”
DeViers　shook　his　head。
“In　that　case；”　continued　Bergen；　“you’re　dismissed。”
Bussmann　snapped　out　a　sharp　salute；　turned；　and　marched　out　into　the　light　of　day。
“We　need　to　focus　on　the　gates；”　said　Killian。　“From　his　report；　it　sounds　like　they’re　hinged　to
open　outwards。　They’re　far　too　big　to　ram　open　anyway。　How　in　the　blasted　warp　are　we　going　to
breach　them？”
It　was　Colonel　Vinnemann；　hunched　in　his　chair　like　some　kind　of　cathedral　gargoyle；　who
answered。　“We　all　know　orks。　Chances　are；　when　they　see　us　coming；　they’ll　open　the　gates　and
start　spilling　out　like　rats　from　a　burning　building。　We　can　fight　our　way　through　if　we　don’t　give
them　a　chance　to　close　the　gates　again。”
Bergen　caught　General　deViers　looking　over　at　the　disfigured　form　of　Vinnemann　with　an
expression　of　barely　concealed　distaste；　and；　for　the　first　time　since　leaving　Hadron　Base；　he　felt　a
sudden　powerful　resurgence　in　his　contempt　for　the　old　general。
“And　if　they　don’t　come　spilling　out？”　asked　a　dark…skinned　colonel　by　the　name　of　Meyers。　He
was　tall　and　thin；　vulture…like；　and　one　of　his　eyes　was　a　white　orb　without　a　hint　of　iris　or　pupil。　He
was　one　of　Killian’s　men。
Colonel　Vinnemann　smiled　his　crooked　smile　and　said；　“Then　Angel　of　the　Apocalypse　will　have
to　roll　up　and　knock　on　their　door。”
Bergen　scanned　the　faces　of　the　men　seated　in　the　tent　and　saw　a　few　smiling　at　Vinnemann’s
remark；　but　the　atmosphere　was　still　heavy。　No　one　had　really　expected　this。　They　weren’t　prepared
for　any　kind　of　extended　siege。　They　were　hundreds　of　kilometres　from　their　forward　base；　and　if
they　entered　any　kind　of　stalemate　with　the　orks；　their　supply　lines　would　be　extremely　vulnerable。
If　the　orks　had　any　kind　of　air　power；　bombing　Red　Gorge　would　cut　the　expeditionary　force　off
from　all　contact　with　Balkar。　The　intelligence　guiding　the　mission　had　been　sketchy　from　the
beginning　—　a　patchwork　of　Mechanicus　probe　data；　military　maps　dating　back　forty　years；　and
Officio　Strategos　guesswork　—　but　Bergen　had　never　been　so　sharply　aware　of　the　entire　mission’s
freewheeling；　underpinned　nature　as　he　was　right　now。
“So；　a　full　frontal　assault；”　said　Killian　unenthusiastically。　“We’ll　be　naked；　mind　you。　All　our
machines　racing　forwards　across　open　ground…　If　the　Emperor　isn’t　watching　over　us；　it’ll　be　a
bloody　massacre　at　mid…range。　You　all　heard　what　Bussmann　said　about　the　number　of　cannon　on
the　wall。”
“I　think　we　can　discount　much　of　that；”　said　a　scowling　deViers。　“Half　of　the　time；　ork
weaponry　doesn’t　even　work。”
“And　the　other　half；”　said　Rennkamp；　his　eyes　flashing；　“it　rips　our　boys　apart。”
DeViers　looked　suddenly　furious；　on　the　verge　of　throwing　one　of　his　rages；　but　the　sheer
number　of　men　present　and　their　quiet；　concentrated　manner　seemed　enough　to　quell　the　outburst
before　it　got　started。
That　was　close；　thought　Bergen。　Rennkamp　and　Killian　are　really　letting　loose　on　him。　Fine　with
me；　but　I’m　not　sure　the　colonels　need　to　see　it。
Bergen　didn’t　disagree　with　his　peers。　They　had　merely　voiced　the　thoughts　that　had　been
circling　in　his　own　head　all　this　time。　Here　they　all　were；　after　so　many　days　crossing　bare　sand　and
rock；　chasing　a　relic　that；　in　all　likelihood；　no　longer　existed；　and　before　them　was　the　last　and
greatest　obstacle　they　would　face。　Beyond　that　towering　wall　of　iron　and　steel；　in　a　rocky　valley
somewhere　at　the　foot　of　the　Ishawar　range；　lay　the　end　of　this　nightmare。　Yarrick’s　tank　would
either　be　there　or　it　wouldn’t。　In　either　case；　breaking　through　the　wall　would　bring　a　close　to　this
whole　endeavour。　They　could　pull　out。　They　could　head　for　Armageddon；　where　the　fighting　really
mattered。
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“I　say　we　do　it；”　said　Bergen；　suddenly　committed。　Every　eye　in　the　room　turned　towards　him。
“A　full　frontal　assault；　hammering　them　with　everything　we　have。　If　we　concentrate　our　efforts　on　a
small　enough　section；　I　think　we　can　pull　it　off。　I　think　we　can　break　through。”
“Knew　you’d　see　it　my　way；”　said　a　delighted　deViers；　leaning　across　in　his　chair　to　slap　Bergen
on　the　shoulder。
Bergen　fought　not　to　flinch　away　from　the　general’s　hand。
What　choice　have　I　got？　he　thought　bitterly。　Throne　forgive　me　if　I　want　a　quick　end　to　this。　It’s
your　fault　we’re　here　at　all；　you　glory…hunting　old　bastard。　By　the　Emperor；　I　hope　this　is　the　last
time　I　serve　under　you。　With　a　bit　of　luck；　it’ll　be　the　last　time　anyone　does。
“Colonel　Vinnemann；　you’ll　lead　the　vanguard；”　said　deViers。　“I　want　your　Shadowsword　right
up　front；　primed　and　ready。　If　the　orks　do　rush　out　as　expected；　you　will　pull　back　to　a　safer　distance
and　offer　fire　support　under　Major　General　Bergen’s　directions。　But　if　the　greenskins　decide　to　play
it　safe；　I　want　you　ready　to　show　them　the　Emperor’s　wrath。　Understood？”
“You　pick　the　gate；　sir；”　said　Vinnemann；　“and　my　old　girl　will　peel　it　apart。　You’ll　see。”
Bergen　felt　he　had　to　speak。　He　faced　Vinnemann；　but　his　words　were　for　deViers。　“What　the
noble　colonel　is　not　telling　you；　general；　is　that　such　a　shot　will　leave　his　tank　utterly　stationary　for
long　seconds　both　before　and　after　firing。　The　Angel　of　the　Apocalypse　will　draw　heavy　enemy　fire
during　that　time。”
Vinnemann　actually　looked　hurt；　as　if　he　thought　Bergen　was　criticising　him　and　his　tank。
“She　has　more　armour　than　any　other　machine　in　the　army　group；”　he　said　defensively。　“She　can
shrug　off　whatever　they　throw　at　us。　Besides；”　he　added　matter…of…factly；　“if　things　get　too　heavy；
we’ll　pop　smoke。”
Bergen　frowned。
“Then　it’s　decided；”　said　General　deViers；　eager　to　move　on。　With　two　fingers；　he　tapped　a　sheet
of　crumpled　parchment　he　had　laid　out　on　a　small　table　in　front　of　him。　It　was　the　map　Marrenburg’s
scout　had　drawn。　“Now　listen　carefully；　all　of　you。　We’ll　be　attacking　this　gate　here。　It’s　more
isolated　than　the　others；　which　will　give　us　more　time　to　react　to　any　flanking　manoeuvres。　I　expect
they’ll　send　troops　out　from　a　number　of　the　nearest　gates　once　we’ve　engaged。　Anyway；　this　is　our
target　and　I’m　designating　it　point　alpha。　With　the　exception　of　Colonel　Vinnemann；　all　officers
ranked　major　or　higher　will　stay　behind　this　area　here。”　With　a　finger；　he　drew　an　imaginary　line
across　the　map　where　he　believed　the　ork　artillery　would　be　unable　to　strike。　“I　don’t　imagine　the
orks　have　anything　that　can　reach　quite　this　far　out。　I’ll　be　coordinating　the　attack　personally　from
my　Chimera。　Rennkamp；　Killian；　Bergen；　you’ll　relay　my　orders　to　your　respective　divisions　from
your　own　vehicles。”
“Understood；　sir；”　said　Killian。
Bergen　didn’t　speak。　He　noticed　a　fresh　gleam　that　had　crept　into　the　general’s　eyes。
“Then　let’s　disperse；　gentlemen；”　deViers　told　the　colonels　in　the　tent。　“Prepare　for　the　assault。
Your　divisional　commanders　will　have　more　specifics　for　you　within　the　hour。　Dismissed。”
The　regimental　leaders　saluted；　turned；　and　marched　out　of　the　tent。　Bergen　considered
following　Vinnemann　out　for　a　private　word；　but　deViers　said；　“You　three　stay　a　while　longer。　I
want　your　input　on　formations。”
What　did　Vinnemann　think　he　was　doing？　Bergen　wondered。　When　the　orks　spotted　Angel　of　the
Apocalypse　sitting　out　there　on　the　sand；　they　would　hit　her　with　everything　they　had。　She　was　one
hell　of　a　target；　easily　three　times　the　size　of　the　vehicles　that　would　be　escorting　her；　and；　just　like
at　Karavassa；　she　would　be　utterly　immobile　while　her　capacitors　charged　for　firing。　The　blast　from
her　Volcano　cannon　would　draw　every　ork　eye　on　the　wall　to　her；　and　after　the　shot；　the　crew　would
need　valuable　seconds　to　switch　the　generator　back　over　to　power　the　treads　again。　Seconds　counted
for　everything　when　the　shells　were　falling　all　around　you。　Popping　smoke　would　only　help　shield
the　Angel　of　the　Apocalypse　if　the　wind　stayed　low。　If　it　picked　up；　it　would　blow　the　cover　straight
off　of　her。
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Vinnemann　knew　all　this；　of　course。　He　just　wasn’t　about　to　let　any　of　it　stop　him　doing　his　duty。
Bergen　wondered　if　perhaps　the　colonel’s　pain　had　become　too　much　for　him　after　all　these　years。
Was　the　man　growing　impatient　for　an　honourable　death？　Throne；　thought　Bergen；　I　hope　it’s　not
that。
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CHAPTER　NINETEEN
The　chaos　of　battle　erupted　the　moment　the　orks　spotted　them。　The　wall　was　manned；　as　General
deViers　had　known　it　would　be。　In　fact；　there　were　many　thousands　of　greenskins　on　it；　a　huge
garrison　force；　and　they　leapt　to　man　their　long…guns　as　soon　as　they　noticed　the　approaching　dust
cloud　of　the　speeding　Cadian　armour。
The　tanks　of　the　81st　Armoured　Regiment　moved　in　loose　formation；　a　broad　fighting　line　with
van　Droi’s　Gunheads　on　the　far　right　flank。　Captain　Immrich’s　1st　Company　ran　escort　to　Colonel
Vinnemann’s　massive　Shadowsword。
It　was　midday；　searing　hot；　and　the　thick；　muddy　sky　churned　and　roiled　above　the　battlefield。
“Charge！”　yelled　van　Droi　to　his　tank　commanders　over　the　vox。
The　Gunheads　roared　towards　the　wall；　tearing　up　the　ground　that　lay　between　them　and　their
foes。　The　entire　strength　of　Vinnemann’s　regiment　was　being　thrown　at　the　wall　in　one　massive
surge：　ten　companies　of　Imperial　tanks；　though　no　company　could　boast　of　being　at　full　strength。
Every　single　one　had　taken　losses　on　the　journey　east。　They　were　still　a　force　to　be　reckoned　with；
however；　still　something　special　to　see　as　they　tore　across　the　sand。　Bursts　of　black　smoke
announced　heavy　firing　from　the　parapets；　and　the　hot　desert　air　filled　with　deep　booming　thunder。
Great　black…rimmed　craters　began　appearing　in　the　sand　where　the　first　artillery　rounds　struck。　The
orks　could　hammer　the　Cadians　from　this　distance　with　impunity；　and　the　constant　barrage　soon
claimed　its　first　victims。　Three　of　Lieutenant　Keissler’s　2nd　Company　tanks　were　torn　apart　by
tremendous　explosions。　They　were　the　first　of　many　to　fall。　Keissler　rallied　his　surviving　crews；
keeping　them　in　the　line。
The　men　that　died　at　least　died　quickly。　The　ork　shells　were　huge　and　heavy；　packed　with
devastating　amounts　of　explosive。　The　tanks　they　struck　were　smashed　apart　by　the　blasts。　There
was　no　brewing　up；　no　burning　alive　in　steel　coffins；　just　a　sudden；　brutal　end。　Three　black　husks；
barely　recognisable　as　Leman　Russ　tanks；　sat　pouring　out　smoke　while　other　tanks　surged　past　them
to　continue　the　push。
The　orks　had　found　their　range；　and　Colonel　Vinnemann　ordered　all　companies　to　fan　out。
Bunching　together；　with　the　full　weight　of　the　ork　defences　raining　down　on　them；　was　suicide。
There　was　still　some　way　to　go　before　the　Cadians　entered　effective　firing　range。　Even　in
Golgotha’s　gravity；　a　standard　Leman　Russ　battle　cannon　could　take　out　targets　at　a　distance　of　over
two　kilometres　but　the　ork　artillery　was　pounding　them　from　twice　that。　Closing　the　gap　at　speed
was　paramount。
Like　her　sister　tanks；　Last　Rites　II　roared　over　the　low　dunes　with　all　her　hatches　closed。　Wulfe
sat　in　the　rear　of　the　turret　basket；　peering　through　the　vision　blocks　that　ringed　the　rim　of　his
cupola；　shouting　instructions　to　his　crew。　“That’s　it；　Metzger。　Keep　her　speed　up。”
Looking　left　along　the　Cadian　line；　he　saw　van　Droi’s　Foe…Breaker　to　his　immediate　right。
Beyond　her；　scores　of　other　tanks　raced　forwards。　It　was　quite　a　sight。　Suddenly；　bright　light　stabbed
at　his　eyes　and　he　grunted　in　pain。　When　he　opened　them　again；　he　was　glad　to　see　van　Droi’s　tank
still　at　his　side。　He　turned　to　look　behind　and　saw　a　burning　black　wreck。　Someone　else　had　been　hit。
Thick　black　smoke　poured　outwards　and　upwards。
That　could　have　been　us；　thought　Wulfe。
Metzger　was　squeezing　every　bit　of　speed　he　could　from　the　old　girl；　pushing　her　forward　at　full
tilt；　her　engine　roaring　like　a　mad　carnotaur；　her　suspension　bouncing　and　juddering；　tossing　the　men
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in　the　turret　basket　around　like　dolls。　There　were　more　flashes　of　light；　more　bone…shaking　booms。
Wulfe　saw　two　more　wrecks　drop　from　the　Cadian　line；　fountains　of　dirt　and　rock　exploding　on　all
sides　as　the　greenskins　continued　to　rain　shells　on　the　rapidly　advancing　Imperial　force。　Van　Droi’s
Vanquisher　had　pulled　ahead。　Wulfe　saw　her　swerve　violently　to　one　side；　just　missing　a　huge　pillar
of　fire　and　dust　that　geysered　upwards　into　the　air。　Van　Droi’s　driver；　Nalzigg；　really　was　good；
thought　Wulfe。　Foe…Breaker　had　escaped　destruction　by　a　hair’s　breadth。　Metzger　must　have　seen　it
too。　A　second　later；　he　swerved　to　avoid　ditching　Last　Rites　II　into　the　crater　caused　by　the
explosion。
Beans　banged　his　head　on　the　metal　housing　of　his　gun　scope。　“Damn　it！”
“Watch　yourself；”　shouted　Wulfe　over　the　cacophony　of　battle。　“Keep　your　eyes　pressed　to　the
scope’s　padding。”
Even　over　the　intercom；　it　was　difficult　to　hear　each　other。　The　artillery　fire；　explosions　and
engine　noise　were　deafening。
“I　want　this　crate　ready　to　fire　the　moment　we　make　range；”　said　Wulfe。　“High　explosives。
We’ve　got　to　take　out　those　wall…guns　so　the　infantry　don’t　get　minced　following　us　in。”
Up　ahead　and　to　the　left；　some　of　the　tanks　from　the　other　companies　had　pressed　forward　into
firing　range；　and　their　guns　began　to　answer　the　orks’。　The　tanks　were　travelling　too　fast　to　fire　with
any　real　accuracy；　but　Wulfe　saw　bright　blossoms　of　fire　burst　into　life　as　shells　hit　the　wall。　It
didn’t　look　like　they　w