Gunheads(科幻战争)-第22部分

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didn’t　look　like　they　were　very　effective。　The　orks’　answering　barrage；　however；　managed　to
destroy　a　number　of　tanks　from　the　5th　and　8th　Companies。
“By　the　frakking　Eye！”　spat　Wulfe。　“How　can　we　expect　to　hit　anything　in　a　full　sprint？　Who
conceived　this　bloody　plan？”
Metzger　spoke　over　the　intercom。　“We　just　made　range！”
“Beans；”　said　Wulfe；　“line　her　up　on　one　of　those　wall…guns。　The　bigger　the　better。”
“Got　one；”　said　Beans。　“Halfway　up　the　wall　on　our　two　o’clock。　How　about　it？　The　gun…port　to
the　upper　left　of　the　central　gate；　sarge？”
Wulfe　scanned　the　wall　and　found　it。　It　was　one　of　the　biggest　barrels　visible。　A　good　target。　The
muzzle　was　so　damned　wide　a　man　could　have　sat　comfortably　inside　it。
“Nice；”　said　Wulfe。　“Siegler；　high…explosive。　Beans；　zero　in。　It’ll　be　a　tough　shot。　We’ll　have　to
fire　on　the　move。”
“I　can　do　it；　sarge；”　said　Beans。
Siegler　slammed　a　shell　into　the　battle　cannon’s　breech；　yanked　the　locking　lever　and　yelled；
“She’s　lit！”
“Metzger；”　said　Wulfe；　“drop　her　down　into　third　but；　for　Throne’s　sake；　keep　us　moving。
Steady　as　you　can。”
“Aye；　sir；”　said　Metzger。
Last　Rites　II　slowed　abruptly；　and　the　tanks　on　either　side　began　to　pull　further　away　from　her。
Wulfe　barely　noticed。　His　eyes　were　locked　to　the　target。　When　he　felt　that　Metzger　had　her
steady　in　third；　he　called；　“Fire！”
“Brace；”　shouted　Beans；　and　he　stamped　on　the　firing　pedal　with　his　right　foot。　Last　Rites　II
rocked　backwards　with　the　blast。　Three　plumes　of　fire　burst　from　her　cannon；　one　from　the　mouth　of
the　barrel　and　one　from　each　of　the　apertures　in　either　side　of　the　muzzle　brake。
The　turret　basket　filled　with　the　coppery　stink　of　spent　fyceline　propellant。　Wulfe　didn’t　give　it　a
thought。　He　was　watching　the　ork　wall…cannon。　A　fraction　of　a　second　after　Last　Rites　II　spat　her
shell；　a　yellow　ball　of　fire　burst　into　existence　just　below　the　wall…cannon’s　firing　port。　Pieces　of
burning　metal　showered　the　sand　at　the　foot　of　the　wall。　Black　smoke　moved　on　the　breeze。　When　it
cleared；　Wulfe　saw…
Frak！
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“It’s　a　miss；”　he　reported　to　the　crew。　“Metzger！　Floor　it！　Take　her　back　up　to　full　speed。　We
have　to　keep　moving。”
He　took　his　eyes　away　from　the　vision　blocks　for　a　second　and　saw　Beans　hammering　a　fist　onto
his　thigh。
“Damn　it！”　shouted　the　youngster。　“By　the　blasted　Eye。”
Wulfe　leaned　forward　and　gripped　his　shoulder。　“Beat　yourself　up　later；　son。　Right　now；　I　want
another　shot　lined　up。　Siegler？　High…ex。　Now！”
The　loader　didn’t　waste　any　time　confirming。　He　rammed　another　shell　home；　yanked　the
locking　lever　and　shouted；　“Lit；　sarge！”
Come　on；　Beans；　thought　Wulfe。　Concentrate；　boy。
“Metzger；”　said　Wulfe；　“drop　to　third。”
“You’ve　got　it；　sarge；”　said　the　driver。
“Adjust　your　shot；　Beans；”　Wulfe　told　the　gunner。　“Up　a　little。　A　little　more。　We’re　closer　now。
You　ready？”
“I　have　the　shot；”　said　Beans。
“Take　it！”　said　Wulfe。
There　was　a　deep　boom　and　a　rush　of　pungent　smoke。　Last　Rites　II　reared　up　on　her　treads　with
the　power　of　the　recoil；　and　then　hit　the　sand　again　with　a　rough　bounce。　The　main　gun’s　breech　slid
back　and　dumped　the　spent　shell　casing　in　the　brass　catcher　on　the　floor。
Wulfe　held　on　tight；　eyes　scanning　the　wall　through　his　vision　blocks。　The　massive　gun…port
Beans　had　been　aiming　for　erupted　in　bright　red　flame　and　black　smoke。
Debris　exploded　outwards。　Whooping　and　cheering　filled　the　compartment。
“That’s　more　like　it！”　shouted　Wulfe。　“Metzger；　back　up　to　fifth；　now！”
The　engine　roared。　The　base　of　the　wall　was　no　more　than　a　kilometre　away。　The　other
companies　were　already　slowing　to　blast　every　last　gun…port　they　could　see。　Fire　and　smoke　poured
from　the　wall’s　gun…ports　and　toolishers　from　the　8th　and
9th　Companies　were　lobbing　shells　up　onto　the　parapets；　too；　desperate　to　take　out　the　artillery
pieces　before　they　could　shred　the　infantry　vehicles　that　would　follow　in　the　wake　of　the　tanks。
Black　smoke　billowed　up　into　the　sky　from　all　directions。　Angry　fires　blazed　all　around。
From　the　corner　of　his　eye；　Wulfe　saw　a　light　blinking　on　his　vox…board。　He　hit　the　toggle。　It
was　van　Droi。
“Company　leader　to　all　tanks。　We’ve　been　ordered　to　peel　right。　It　doesn’t　look　like　the　orks　are
coming　out　of　their　own　accord　after　all。　Colonel　Vinnemann　is　about　to　kick　their　door　in。”
“Metzger；”　said　Wulfe；　“take　us　right；　parallel　with　the　wall。　Angel　of　the　Apocalypse　is　moving
up。”
Vinnemann’s　massive　Shadowsword　had　so　far　enjoyed　the　cover　of　the　dust　clouds　kicked　up　by
the　other　machines　as　it　rolled　forward；　moving　into　position　to　attack　point　alpha。
One　shot；　thought　Vinnemann。　We’ll　have　one　shot　at　this。　We　absolutely　must　force　a　breach。
Over　the　vox；　he　head　Major　General　Bergen　say；　“Are　you　in　position；　colonel？”
“A　few　more　seconds；　sir；”　Vinnemann　replied。　Then　his　driver　reported　over　the　intercom　that
they　had　position。　The　gunner　confirmed　line…of…sight。　Vinnemann　voxed　back　to　Bergen。　“In
position　now；　sir。　Readying　to　fire。”
“We’re　counting　on　you；　Kochatkis；”　said　Bergen。
Vinnemann　heard　Bergen　notify　all　units　on　the　divisional　command　channel；　“Division　to　all
armour；　be　advised。　Angel　of　the　Apocalypse　is　about　to　fire。　I　repeat；　Angel　is　about　to　fire。”
On　the　tank’s　intercom；　Vinnemann　told　Schwartz；　his　engineer；　“Switch　all　power　to　main　gun。
Tell　me　when　she’s　charged。”
“Yes；　sir。”
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“Vamburg；”　said　Vinnemann；　addressing　his　gunner。　“Full　blast；　full　duration。　Let’s　turn　that
gate　to　vapour。”
“No　worries；　sir。　Ready　to　light　it　up。”
“Capacitors　full；　sir！”　reported　Schwartz。
“Right；　Vamburg；”　said　Vinnemann。　“You　heard　him。　Do　it！”
“Brace　for　firing！”　shouted　the　gunner。
A　hum　filled　the　air　inside　the　tank；　like　thousands　of　voices　joined　in　a　single　tone　that　rose
until　it　drowned　out　all　else。　A　charge　passed　through　Vinnemann’s　twisted　body　as　he　felt　the　space
around　him　vibrate。　The　pain　he　usually　felt　melted　away　for　a　moment　as　the　tone　rose　higher　and
higher。　Then；　suddenly；　the　whole　bulk　of　the　Shadowsword　shook　as　if　it　had　been　kicked　by　a
giant。　Blazing　white　light　burst　from　her　cannon；　lancing　straight　across　the　battlefield；　striking　the
massive　ork　gate　dead　centre。
The　air　shook　with　a　massive　thunderous　crack。　The　iron　gate　glowed　blindingly　bright　for　an
instant；　and　then　seemed　to　vanish　completely　just　as　if　it　had　never　been　there　at　all。　The　armoured
wall　all　around　it　glowed　white；　then　yellow；　then　orange　and　red。　Gobs　of　molten　metal　began　to
rain　down　on　the　ground。　Seconds　later；　the　armour…plating　had　cooled　again　and　solidified。　It
looked　like　melted　wax。
The　wall　was　breached。　The　18th　Army　Group　had　its　passage；　but　the　battle　was　just　beginning。
Beyond　the　hole；　ork　structures　burned；　damaged　by　the　destructive　energy　that　spilled　through　from
the　Shadowsword’s　powerful　blast。
Vinnemann　surveyed　the　results　of　his　crew’s　efforts　and　opened　a　vox…link　to　Major　General
Bergen。　“Objective　achieved；　sir。　Point　alpha　is　open。　The　wall　has　been　breached。　But　we　must
secure　it　at　once。”
Bergen；　in　turn；　voxed　the　rest　of　his　forces。　“Division　Command　to　all　units。　Move　up　and
secure　the　breach　at　all　costs。　I　repeat；　secure　the　breach　at　once。”
Through　his　vision　blocks；　Vinnemann　saw　scores　of　tanks　wheel　around　and　race　for　the　gap　he
had　just　made。
“Schwartz；”　he　called　over　his　intercom；　“all　power　to　the　main　drive。　We’ve　got　to　move。”
Already；　the　ork　artillery　had　started　cutting　a　deadly　path　of　dirt　and　fire　towards　Angel　of　the
Apocalypse。　More　and　more　of　the　ork　guns　swivelled　to　focus　on　her。
“Vamburg；”　said　Vinnemann。　“Fine　shot。　But　get　some　bloody　smoke　up；　will　you？　Bekker；　pull
us　straight　back　as　soon　as　you　can。　We’re　a　sitting　target　out　here。”
“All　power　back　to　main　drive；　sir；”　reported　Schwartz。　“Ready　to　move　her　on　your　say。”
“Good　man；”　said　Vinnemann。　“You　heard　him；　Bekker。　Get　us　out　of　here。”
A　trio　of　heavy　shells　struck　the　earth　just　in　front　of　the　Angel’s　hull；　making　a　tight　triple…beat
of　explosions。　The　blast　waves　rocked　her　on　her　suspension。　Vinnemann　heard　pieces　of　rock
raining　down　on　the　roof　of　the　turret。　“Damned　close。　The　next　lot　will　hit　us　for　sure　if　we　don’t
get　the　hell　out　of　here。　Move　it！”
The　mighty　Shadowsword　rumbled　and　shuddered　as　her　giant　drive　sprockets　started　turning　in
reverse；　but　she　weighed　three　hundred　and　eight　tonnes。　Accelerating　from　a　dead　stop　wasn’t
exactly　effortless。
As　she　started　rumbling　backwards；　Vinnemann　heard　Bergen　hailing　him　again　on　the　vox。
“Division　to　Armour　Command。　Can　you　hear　me；　Kochatkis？”
“Go　ahead；　sir；”　said　Vinnemann。
“You　have　to　pull　back　faster。　Ork　fighter…bombers　are　inbound　from　the　south。　They’re　coming
in　fast。”
“From　the　south；　sir？”
“Affirmative；”　replied　Bergen。　“Throne　knows　where　the　hell　they　launched　from；　but；　judging
by　their　angle　of　approach；　they　didn’t　come　from　behind　the　wall。”
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“You　think　the　orks　have　long…range　comms；　sir？”　asked　Vinnemann。　“Could　the　orks　on　the
wall　have　called　in　an　airstrike　from　somewhere？”
“If　they　have　comms　with　that　kind　of　range　here　on　Golgotha；”　said　Bergen；　“then　they’re　a
damned　sight　better　off　than　we　are。　And　I’ll　be　asking　the　tech…priests　why。　But　listen；　Kochatkis；
your　crate　is　the　biggest　thing　we’re　fielding　out　there。　Expect　lots　of　unwelcome　attention。　I’m
sending　some　of　our　Hydras　forward　in　support　of　you。　We’ve　already　lost　one　of　the　Vulcans。　They
weren’t　designed　for　dogfighting。　They　can’t　handle　anything　with　that　kind　of　airspeed。”
“Understood；　sir；”　said　Vinnemann。　“We’re　pulling　back　as　fast　as　we　can；　but　the　anti…air　cover
would　be　much　appreciated。”
“The　Hydras　will　be　with　you　in　a　few　minutes；　Kochatkis；”　said　Bergen。　“Inform　me　when　they
reach　you。”
“I　will；　sir。　Armour　Command　out。”
Bombers　from　the　south；　thought　Vinnemann。　Didn’t　Stromm　and　van　Droi　report　a　great　ork
host　moving　in　that　direction？
“Move　in；　move　in；”　shouted　Wulfe　over　the　intercom。
Metzger　gunned　Last　Rites　II　forward；　and　they　passed　the　melted　edges　of　the　ork　wall。　The
sight　that　greeted　Wulfe　was　of　a　place　in　turmoil。　Shoddy　ork　buildings　were　everywhere；　each　an
ugly　mishmash　of　rusting　steel　poles　and　sheets　of　corrugated　metal　all　bolted　together　at　odd
angles；　looped　by　barbed　wire　and　painted　with　bright　glyphs　of　white　on　red。　Greenskin　foot
soldiers　were　everywhere；　crowded　onto　raised　platforms　or　charging　in　great　tides　over　the　sandy
ground；　blazing　away　at　the　intruding　tanks　with　everything　they　had。
Most　of　the　weapons　they　carried　were　heavy　stubbers　and　flame…throwers；　oversized　cleavers
and　axes；　none　of　them　much　good　against　fifteen　centimetres　of　heavy　armour；　but　Wulfe　knew　that
far　more　dangerous　weapons　were　available　to　the　Golgothan　orks。　His　eyes　scanned　the　roaring
mobs；　frantically　searching　for　signs　of　the　thick；　tube…like　weapons　that　had　brewed　up　Siemens’
tank。　It　was　an　impossible　task。　There　were　too　many　of　them；　and　too　much　movement　all　around。
Wulfe　didn’t　have　time　to　make　a　count　of　how　many　tanks　from　the　81st　had　survived　to　pass
the　breach。　He　had　some　sense　that　the　number　might　be　around　fifty；　meaning　that　fully　half　of　the
regiment’s　armour　had　been　lost　in　getting　this　far。　As　he　thought　this；　trails　of　bright　flame　streaked
out　from　one　of　the　tower…like　constructions　and　struck　a　tank　to　his　left。　The　tank　exploded　in　a
spectacular　ball　of　orange　flame。
“Shaped　charges；”　he　yelled　over　the　vox　to　any　of　the　other　tank　commanders　that　might　be
listening。　“They’ve　got　anti…tank　weaponry！”
The　vox…chatter　he　heard　back　told　him　which　tank　had　been　hit。
“Dark　Majestic　is　down；”　shouted　someone。　“Anti…tank　fire　from　ten　o’clock　high。”
Dark　Majestic　was　a　3rd　Company　machine；　one　of　Lieutenant　Albrecht’s。
“Beans；”　called　Wulfe　over　the　intercom。　“Traverse　left。　Ork　tower。　Three　hundred　metres。
High…explosive。”
Siegler　heaved　a　shell　into　the　main　gun’s　breech。　“She’s　lit。”
Wulfe　tapped　Beans　on　the　left　shoulder；　twice；　a　sign　to　fire　at　will。
“Brace！”　shouted　the　gunner。
Last　Rites　II　shook；　coughing　fire　from　her　muzzle；　and　the　ork　tower　disintegrated
spectacularly。　Bodies　rained　to　the　ground　amid　the　storm　of　burning　junk。
“Eat　that！”　shouted　Beans。
“That’s　a　kill；”　said　Wulfe。　“Nice　shot；　son。　But　don’t　get　cocky。　Traverse　right。　Target　ork
tower；　five　hundred　metres。　High…ex。　Fire　at　will。”
Siegler　slung　another　shell　into　place。　As　the　traverse　motors　hummed；　turning　the　main　gun
towards　the　specified　target；　Wulfe　took　the　briefest　second　to　check　the　rear。　He　saw　the　burning
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wrecks　of　Imperial　tanks　on　all　sides。　Black　bodies；　too　small　to　be　orks；　littered　the　ground；　their
clothes　still　on　fire。　He　cursed。
Most　of　the　regiment’s　tanks　were　still　fighting　desperately；　however；　holding　back　the　seething
tide　of　orks　with　booming　volleys　of　explosive　fire　that　killed　countless　hundreds　with　every　passing
moment。
Thank　the　Throne；　thought　Wulfe；　that　most　of　the　greenskin　bastards　only　have　blades　and
guns。　With　the　exception　of　those　carrying　explosives；　the　ork　infantry　were　largely　powerless
against　the　might　of　Imperial　armour。　Their　wall…mounted　cannon　and　artillery　pieces　were　useless
back　here。　The　Cadian　tanks　were　gradually　pushing　out　from　the　breach；　forming　a　wide　semicircular
perimeter　so　that　the　infantry　vehicles　pouring　in　behind　them　had　room　to　deploy。　Wulfe
saw　halftracks；　Chimeras　and　trucks　skid　to　a　halt　behind　him　and　start　unloading　men。
The　soldiers　immediately　added　their　fire　to　that　of　the　tanks；　and　the　death　toll　among　the　orks
mounted　faster　and　faster。　Torrents　of　stubber　and　bolter　fire　blazed　out　from　the　Chimeras　and
halftracks；　and　the　Cadians　continued　to　gain　ground。
Keep　it　up；　thought　Wulfe。　We’re　beating　them。　By　the　Golden　Throne；　we’re　beating　them。
Then　he　heard　van　Droi’s　voice　on　the　company　command　channel。
Ork　armour　had　been　spotted　approaching　from　the　north　along　the　inside　of　the　wall。　Wulfe
turned　his　head　in　that　direction　and　caught　a　glimpse　of　hulking　black　machines　just　as　Siegler
shouted；　“She’s　lit！”
“Brace！”　shouted　Beans。
The　tank　rocked　and　the　turret　basket　filled　with　the　sharp　stink　of　propellant　once　again。　Wulfe
quickly　checked　and　saw　that　Beans　had　made　another　direct　hit。　The　tower　collapsed　sideways；
spilling　green　bodies　all　around　it。
“Good　work；　soldier；”　Wulfe　told　the　gunner。　“No　time　to　rest；　though。　We’ve　got　enemy　heavy
armour　coming　in。　Siegler；　I　want　armour…piercing　up　the　spout。　Beans；　traverse　left。”
Rumbling　through　the　smoke；　fire　and　dusty　haze；　three　hulking　metal　monsters　emerged。　Wulfe
gaped。　The　ork　machines　had　been　fashioned　to　look　like　some　kind　of　carnivorous　creature。　Their
insane　alien　creators　had　given　them　metal　jaws　with　long　steel　tusks　that　clanged　together　as　they
gnashed。　They　were　bristling　with　cannon　and　secondary　armaments。　Wulfe　could　only　imagine　the
fear　such　machines　might　drive　into　infantrymen；　but；　to　Last　Rites　II；　the　ork　tanks　were　big　fat
targets；　begging　to　be　turned　into　burning　scrap。
Wulfe　had　every　intention　of　obliging。
His　fellow　tank　commanders　clearly　had　the　same　idea。　As　the　monstrous　ork　armour　closed；　all
three　machines　rumbling　and　spluttering　their　way　along　a　wide　avenue　that　ran　parallel　to　the　inside
of　the　wall；　the　Leman　Russ　tanks　loosed　a　stuttering　volley　of　armour…piercing　shells。
Most　of　the　shells　struck　home；　and　one　of　the　ork　machines　stopped　dead　in　its　tracks。　The
greenskin　crew　began　bailing　out　at　speed；　leaping　from　high　hatches　to　land　on　the　heads　and
shoulders　of　the　ork　infantry　that　surged　around　the　treads　of　their　machine。　They　weren’t　quick
enough。　The　magazine　inside　the　tank　detonated　seconds　later；　and　both　the　escaping　crew　and　the
orks　on　which　they　had　dropped　were　roasted　to　death　in　a　massive　rush　of　red　fire。
Wulfe　heard　Captain　Immrich　broadcasting　on　the　regimental　channel。
“Good　kill；　armour；”　he　said。　“But　the　other　two　aren’t　taking　it　very　well。”
The　other　monstrosities　brought　all　their　cannon　to　bear　on　the　Leman　Russ　machines　closest　to
them　and　unleashed　a　ground…shaking　fusillade　of　high…explosive　shells。　Two　Imperial　tanks　—　one
a　Conqueror；　the　other　a　Destroyer　—　erupted　into　fire　almost　simultaneously。　The　Destroyer’s
onboard　plasma…containment　field　lost　integrity　almost　immediately。　It　exploded　with　a　spectacular
and　lethal　burst　of　energy　that　turned　a　dozen　Cadian　infantrymen　nearby　into　piles　of　ash。
Wulfe　yelled　out　in　protest　as　he　watched。　He　heard　Captain　Immrich’s　voice　on　the　vox。
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“Armour　down；”　the　man　was　yelling。　“I　want　those　bloody　abominations　taken　out；　now！
That’s　an　order！”
Wulfe　wondered　who　the　dead　tank　crews　were。　There　hadn’t　been　any　chance　to　read　the　names
on　their　crates　before　they　were　brewed　up。　There　would　be　time　to　find　out　after　the　battle；　if　he
lived　through　it。　For　some　men；　the　absence　of　friends　would　become　brutally；　painfully　apparent
after　the　fighting　was　done。　Thinking　of　this；　he　looked　around　for　Viess　and　Holtz。　Were　they　still
alive？　Still　fighting？
They　were。　Old　Smashbones　was　blasting　away　at　a　sturdy…looking　ork　tower　on　the　far　right。
Steelhearted　II　was　standing　parallel　with　van　Droi’s　tank；　its　turret　slowly　turning　to　face　the　ork
armour。
Wulfe　realised　that　his　own　crate　had　a　clear　line…of…sight　on　the　right…hand　target。
“Beans；”　he　said；　“target　the　one　on　the　right。　See　that　plate　of　armour　just　right　of　the　main
gun’s　mantlet？　The　one　with　the　glyph？”
“The　skull…looking　thing？”　said　Beans。　“Yeah；　I　see　it。”
“There’s　a　damned　good　chance　that　armour　is　protecting　the　gunner’s　station。　If　we　can　put　one
through　it…”
Beans　didn’t　answer。　He　hit　the　traverse　pedal；　already　busy　lining　up　the　main　gun。　Electric
motors　hummed　as　he　adjusted　elevation。　He　had　to　get　it　right。　A　miss　might　very　well　mean　more
Cadian　deaths。
“Lit；”　said　Siegler。
Beans　was　just　about　to　call　out　Brace！　when　the　whole　tank　was　suddenly　shunted　backwards
about　three　metres。　Wulfe　shook　his　head；　trying　to　lose　the　ringing　sound　in　his　ears。　They　had　been
hit　right　on　the　front　armour；　the　glacis　plate。
“Damn；”　spat　Wulfe；　simultaneously　checking　himself　for　injuries。　“Metzger；　you　all　right？”
“More　armour　approaching　from　front…right；　sarge；”　reported　the　driver。　“They　look　like　looted
Leman　Russ。”
“Try　to　hit　their　treads　with　the　lascannon；”　ordered　Wulfe。　“Buy　us　some　time。”
The　vox　was　filled　with　reports　of　the　new　machines’　approach。　Beans　was　already　reacquiring
his　original　target。　His　crosshairs　were　quickly　re…centred　on　the　skull…glyph　that　decorated　the
multi…cannoned　monster　to　the　north。
“I　have　it；　sarge；”　he　said。
“Take　the　shot；”　said　Wulfe。
“Brace！”　called　Beans；　and　stamped　on　the　floor　trigger。
The　shot　hit　the　ork　machine　exactly　where　it　was　supposed　to；　and　Beans　let　out　a　whoop　of
joy；　but　there　was　no　explosion；　no　sudden　burst　of　flame；　just　a　neat　black　hole　the　size　of　a
grapefruit　right　in　the　centre　of　the　skull…glyph’s　forehead。　The　ork　tank’s　turret　stopped　moving。　It
s