Gunheads(科幻战争)-第34部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


its　fingers；　cut　the　man　in　half。
Colonel　Stromm　of　The　Fighting　98th　was　in　the　front　row；　standing　just　a　few　metres　in　front　of
the　Baneblade’s　hull。　He　was　moving　before　the　general’s　upper　body　tumbled　sideways　from　the
turret。
187
“Kasrkin！”　he　yelled　to　his　men　as　he　tore　his　hellpistol　from　its　holster。　Together；　he　and　his
storm　troopers　began　blazing　away　at　the　giant　swaying　ork。
It　shuddered　as　it　was　peppered　with　searing　shots。　Then　it　fell　backwards　again。
The　firing　stopped。
Magos　Sennesdiar　wasted　no　time。　He　surged　forward；　leaping　onto　the　front　of　the　Baneblade
with　an　agility　that　was　totally　at　odds　with　his　bulk。　His　adepts　immediately　climbed　up　after　him。
As　they　hurried　onto　the　top　of　the　turret；　Armadron　said；　
　said　Xephous。　
Sennesdiar　was　the　first　to　reach　the　body　of　the　ork。　The　creature　was　breathing　no　more。　There；
around　its　tree…trunk　neck；　he　saw　a　glimmer　of　green　and　gold。
The　fragments　he　told　his　adepts。　
　his　adepts　intoned　together。
“Is　the　damned　thing　dead？”　asked　a　gruff　voice。
Sennesdiar　quickly　tugged　the　fragment　from　around　the　warboss’　neck；　breaking　the　leather
cord　that　held　it　there；　and　hid　it　within　the　deep　folds　of　his　robe。　Then　he　rose　and　turned　to　face
the　speaker。
“Colonel　Stromm。　The　ork　leader　no　longer　lives。　Adepts；”　he　said；　addressing　his　subordinates
in　Low　Gothic；　“it　is　time　we　launched　our　beacon。”
Together；　the　three　Martian　priests　climbed　down　from　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance；　and　strode
towards　their　Chimera；　passing　Major　Generals　Bergen；　Killian　and　Rennkamp　on　the　way。　All　three
men　looked　drawn　and　exhausted；　and　they　were　speechless　as　the　tech…priests　passed。
When　Sennesdiar　was　within　a　few　metres　of　them；　he　said；　“One　of　our　lifters　can　be　expected
to　arrive　within　the　hour；　major　generals。　My　servitors　will　tend　to　the　Baneblade；　but　I　suggest　we
all　make　haste　in　our　preparations　to　leave。　Golgotha　is　still　home　to　a　vast　population　of　orks。
Tarrying　too　long　could　prove　to　be　a　grave　mistake。”
The　magos　moved　off；　but　he　had　only　gone　about　ten　metres　when　Bergen　called　out　to　him。
“Sennesdiar；”　he　said。　“Tell　me；　will　you　answer　a　question？”
Sennesdiar　turned。　“Ask　it。”
Bergen’s　eyes　were　hard。　“Did　you　get　what　you　were　looking　for？”
The　magos　paused　for　the　briefest　instant；　and　Bergen　found　himself　imagining　that；　had
Sennesdiar　still　possessed　a　face　capable　of　it；　he　would　be　wearing　a　smile。
“Didn’t　we　all？”　said　the　magos。　Then　he　turned　and　moved　off　again。
188
CHAPTER　THIRTY…SIX
The　sky　was　turning　from　red　to　murky　brown。　It　would　be　night　soon；　but　Wulfe　and　the　others
wouldn’t　be　here　to　see　it。　They　were　leaving。　What　remained　of　the　18th　Army　Group’s　vehicles
had　already　been　rolled　or　towed　up　the　ramps　and　into　the　gaping　holds　of　the　Mechanicus　lifter。
On　the　battlefield；　the　fires　had　gone　out　in　most　of　the　wrecks。　Men　moved　among　the　dead；
collecting　dog　tags　from　the　necks　of　their　fallen　brothers；　and　retrieving　lasguns；　pistols；　grenades
and　anything　else　that　Munitorum　procedure　said　was　too　valuable　to　leave　behind。
Wulfe’s　crew　was　already　onboard　the　lifter；　tying　Last　Rites　II　down　in　preparation　for　the
flight。　Wulfe　had　asked　Siegler　to　come　and　fetch　him　when　the　last　call　to　board　went　out。　Then　he
had　come；　alone；　to　the　place　where　Gossefried　van　Droi　had　died。
He　stood　looking　at　the　twisted；　burnt…out　wreck　that　had　once　been　the　man’s　pride　and　joy：
Foe…Breaker。　The　bodies　of　her　brave　crew　were　still　inside　her。　There　was　no　Confessor　Friedrich
here　to　take　care　of　them。　The　confessor　had　almost　certainly　died　in　the　ork　siege　at　Balkar；　another
good　man　lost。
Wulfe’s　heart　felt　like　it　was　made　of　lead。　He　had　known　van　Droi　for　almost　all　of　his　fighting
life。　He　trusted　few　people　as　much　as　he　had　trusted　the　lieutenant。　That　he　was　suddenly　gone；
after　so　many　years　of　beating　the　odds；　just　didn’t　seem　real；　neither　did　the　loss　of　Holtz　or　Viess。
These　were　men　he　had　respected；　men　he　had　liked；　not　just　fellow　troopers；　but　friends。
That　thought　threw　up　another　name；　and　a　shiver　ran　the　length　of　his　spine；　despite　the　heat。
He　remembered　a　whispering　voice　he　had　heard　on　his　intercom　once；　and　a　hollow…eyed　face　that
looked　anything　but　peaceful：　Corporal　Borscht。
Wulfe　prayed　that　van　Droi　and　the　others　would　not　appear　to　him　inexplicably　like　his　former
driver　had。　Surely　the　Emperor　had　already　welcomed　them　to　his　side。　They　had　more　than　earned
it。
Footsteps　sounded　on　the　sand　behind　him。
“Time　to　ship　out；　right　Sig？”　asked　Wulfe　without　turning。
“In　a　hurry　to　leave？”　replied　Voeder　Lenck。
Wulfe　turned；　his　brows　drawing　down　into　a　scowl。　“What　are　you　doing　here？”
Lenck　grinned；　but　his　eyes　were　dark　and　cold　as　he　said；　“Came　to　pay　my　respects；　didn’t　I？
Think　you’ve　got　a　monopoly　on　that？”
Wulfe’s　eyes　narrowed。　There　was　something　about　Lenck’s　stance　that　he　didn’t　like。　The　wiry
corporal　looked　loose　and　relaxed；　but　it　seemed　forced　somehow。
Silence　hung　between　them　on　the　warm；　still　air。
“What　are　you　really　doing　out　here；　corporal？”
Lenck　shifted；　stepping　forward；　bringing　his　hands　around　from　behind　his　back。　Wulfe　saw　a
glimmer　of　metal　in　the　corporal’s　right　hand。　“I’m　doing　what　your　mother　should　have　done　at
birth；　you　grox…rutter。”
Lenck　settled　into　a　fighting　stance；　well　balanced　on　the　balls　of　his　feet；　blade　ready　in　his　lead
hand。
Wulfe　immediately　reached　for　his　own　knife；　but　it　wasn’t　there。　It　was　lodged　in　the　forearm
of　a　dead　ork。
189
“You’re　frakking　insane；”　he　spat。　“Put　that　blade　away；　corporal。　You’re　making　one　hell　of　a
mistake。”
Lenck　laughed。　“The　way　I　hear　it；　Wulfe；　you’ve　quite　a　thing　for　ghosts。　Well；　guess　what。
Now　you　get　to　be　one。　You’ve　had　it　in　for　me　since　the　day　we　met；　you　self…righteous　prick。　But
you　didn’t　know　who　you　were　messing　with。　Time　to　show　you。”
Lenck　lunged　at　Wulfe　in　a　blur；　thrusting　the　knife　out　towards　his　belly。　Wulfe　barely　managed
to　twist　away　in　time。　He　heard　the　ripping　of　fabric　and　looked　down　to　see　a　wide　cut　in　his　tunic。
Lenck　reset　his　stance；　and　then　lunged　again；　this　time　with　a　high…to…low　backhand　slash　that
caught　Wulfe　on　the　right　forearm。　The　blade　bit　into　his　flesh　and　sent　a　flare　of　pain　along　his
nerves。
“Damn　you；　Lenck。　Are　you　insane？　How　do　you　expect　to　get　away　with　this？”
Lenck　laughed。　“You　were　out　here　grieving　for　van　Droi　when　a　wounded　ork　stumbled　out　of
the　shadows；　surprised　you　and　cut　you　down。　Siegler　will　find　your　body。”
Lenck　stepped　in　with　another　vicious　slash；　but　Wulfe　saw　it　coming　and　kicked　out　at　the
corporal’s　knife…hand。
He　missed。
The　knife　sliced　deep　into　the　meat　of　his　left　shoulder。
Wulfe　gritted　his　teeth　and　grasped　Lenck’s　wrist；　but　the　corporal　punched　him　in　the　face　with
his　free　hand　and　sent　him　reeling　backwards。
“You’re　a　relic；　Wulfe；　like　Yarrick’s　tank。　You’ve　had　your　day。”
Wulfe　knew　he　couldn’t　beat　Lenck’s　speed。　Lenck　had　proved　that　already；　but　Wulfe　was
bigger　and　stronger。
His　only　chance　lay　in　clinching；　but　it　was　a　huge　gamble。　At　close　range；　the　knife　would　slash
him　to　pieces。　If　he　could　just　wrestle　it　free。
With　a　sneer　of　triumph；　Lenck　said；　“I　can　see　the　fear　in—”
Wulfe　didn’t　let　him　finish。　He　bull…rushed　him；　ramming　his　wounded　shoulder　hard　into
Lenck’s　abdomen。　Pain　exploded　throughout　Wulfe’s　body；　but　it　was　worth　it。　Lenck　hit　the　ground
hard　with　Wulfe　on　top　of　him；　the　air　rushing　out　of　his　lungs。
“Bastard；”　he　hissed　and　immediately　slashed　at　Wulfe’s　face。　Wulfe　blocked　with　his　forearm
again　and　took　another　painful　cut　for　his　troubles。
Wulfe　roared　at　the　pain　through　gritted　teeth；　but　he　noticed　something；　too。　On　the　ground　next
to　Lenck　lay　something　long　and　white　and　familiar。　It　had　fallen　from　Wulfe’s　pocket　when　they
had　landed　on　the　ground。
Still　straddling　his　enemy；　Wulfe　snatched　it　up　desperately。
Lenck　saw　Wulfe　grab　for　something　and　lashed　out　again　at　his　face；　but　this　time；　Wulfe
caught　his　wrist　firmly　in　one　hand　and　stabbed　the　ork　tusk　straight　down　into　Lenck’s　biceps　with
the　other。　The　corporal　howled　as　Wulfe　yanked　the　tusk　left　and　right；　doing　as　much　tissue
damage　as　possible。
Lenck’s　fingers　went　weak。　The　blade　dropped。
“All　right；　enough；”　he　whined；　grasping　at　his　wounded　arm。　“You　win；　sergeant。　You　win。　Just
don’t　kill　me。　I　wasn’t　gonna　kill　you；　I　swear。　I　just　wanted　to　teach　you　a　lesson。”
Wulfe　loomed　over　him；　growling；　baring　his　teeth。　It　would　be　so　easy　to　murder　this　worthless
wretch。　So　many　problems　would　be　solved　in　an　instant。　So　why　did　he　hesitate？　He　wasn’t　sure
what　it　was　at　first。　For　a　brief　moment；　he　thought　it　might　be　that　there　were　so　few　Gunheads　left；
and　Lenck　had　been　through　the　same　hell　as　he　had；　but　it　wasn’t　that。　It　was　simply　duty。　Lenck
was　an　Imperial　Guardsman；　whether　he　liked　it　or　not。　His　life　belonged　to　the　Emperor。　It　wasn’t
Wulfe’s　to　take。
“Listen　carefully；　you　piece　of　groxshit；”　he　rumbled。　“You　walk　around　like　some　kind　of　hiveganger
boss　and　think　it　counts　for　something。　It　counts　for　nothing　out　here。　You　got　that？　I　saw
190
through　you　from　the　start；　you　little　punker。　You’ll　never　have　another　chance　like　you　did　just
now。　Do　you　hear　me？　This　will　never　happen　again。　I　know　you；　Lenck。　And；　whether　I’m　dead　or
alive；　I’m　going　to　haunt　you　for　the　rest　of　your　worthless　frakking　life。”
Having　said　his　piece；　Wulfe　threw　his　whole　body　weight　forward　into　a　crushing　elbow　strike
that　smashed　Lenck’s　nose　and　split　both　his　lips　wide　open。　The　back　of　his　head　bounced　hard　off
the　ground。　He　was　out　cold。
Wulfe　looked　down　at　the　corporal’s　ruined　face。　“That　one’s　for　you；　Holtz；”　he　muttered。
Wulfe　carried　Lenck’s　limp　form　back　to　the　Mechanicus　lifter；　the　corporal　draped　over　one
shoulder　like　a　sack　of　grain；　and　was　climbing　the　boarding　ramp　just　as　Siegler　appeared　at　the
top。
“I　was　coming　to　fetch　you；”　said　the　loader。　“Six　minutes　till　take…off。”
Wulfe　nodded　and　walked　past　him；　and　Siegler　fell　into　step　behind。
“What　happened　to　Lenck？”　he　asked　without　a　trace　of　concern。
“He　was　born　stupid；”　replied　Wulfe。
The　Fortress　of　Arrogance　sat　in　the　middle　of　the　hold；　tied　down　with　dozens　of　thick　steel
cables。　She　was　swarming　with　tech…servitors　and　enginseers　hell…bent　on　removing　the　ork
modifications　as　soon　as　possible。　On　the　far　left；　between　a　pair　of　half…tracks；　Wulfe　spotted　the
New　Champion　of　Cerbera　and　its　shifty；　no…good　crew。　They　looked　anxious；　and　stood　up
nervously　when　Wulfe　began　striding　towards　them　with　their　unconscious　leader。
None　of　them　seemed　inclined　to　speak。
Wulfe　threw　the　sleeping　corporal　down　hard　on　the　metal　deck；　and　then　eyeballed　each　of　the
three　crewmen　in　turn。　“Your　corporal　got　himself　in　a　bit　of　trouble。　He　came　off　the　worse　for　it。　If
any　of　you　stupid　sons…of…bitches　think　you’d　like　to　find　out　what　kind　of　trouble；　make　a　move。
Now。”
No　one；　not　even　the　bully　boy；　Varnuss；　so　much　as　twitched。
“Is　he…　is　he　dead？”　asked　Hobbs　finally。
Without　looking　down；　Wulfe　kicked　Lenck　in　the　ribs　and　was　rewarded　with　a　feeble　groan。　It
was　answer　enough。　Then　he　gestured　to　Siegler　and　together　they　walked　off　between　the　tanks　and
halftracks　in　the　direction　of　Last　Rites　II。
The　loading　ramp　was　being　raised；　crowding　out　a　shrinking　slice　of　ruddy　Golgothan　sky。
Klaxons　blared；　announcing　imminent　take…off。　Orange　warning　lights　began　to　spin。　From　scores　of
loudspeakers；　the　rhythmic；　atonal　chanting　of　the　Mechanicus　tech…crew　began；　reciting　litanies　for
the　safe；　efficient　operation　of　the　lifter’s　ancient　engines。
Onboard　gravitational　fields　kicked　in。　The　hull　shook　with　the　power　of　the　ship’s　massive
thrusters　as　they　heaved　its　metal　bulk　up　into　the　air。　Within　minutes；　it　had　risen　beyond　the
churning　clouds　of　Golgotha　and　was　making　for　high　orbit。
There；　The　Scion　of　Tharsis　waited。
Operation　Thunderstorm　was　over。
191
EPILOGUE
The　midday　sky　was　a　brilliant　blue　laced　with　the　shimmering　white　trails　of　Lightning　fighter
squadrons　and　formations　of　Marauder　bombers　out　of　the　Tethys…Alpha　airbase　in　the　north。
Standing　in　his　pulpit　atop　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance；　Yarrick　looked　out　across　the　open　plains。
The　Palidus　Mountains　sat　like　patient　giants　on　the　far　side；　waiting　for　the　grand　spectacle　to
begin。　The　ground　was　hard；　good　footing；　excellent　for　tanks　and　infantry　alike。　In　a　few　hours；　it
would　be　a　stinking；　blood…sodden　marshland　littered　with　the　dead。
With　the　Emperor’s　blessing；　most　of　the　bodies　would　be　alien。
The　far　foothills　were　already　dark　with　the　shadows　of　the　descending　xenos　horde：　such
incredible　numbers。　Good；　it　would　be　a　worthy　fight；　a　fitting　end　to　a　lifetime　of　vendetta。　There
was　no　fear　in　him。　Decades　of　constant　war　had　desensitised　him　to　it。　All　that　time　spent　in　the
forge　of　battle　had　made　his　soul　as　hard　as　ceramite。　His　mind　was　tougher　than　folded　steel。
Victory　alone　was　what　mattered；　and　today　he　would　have　it；　whatever　the　cost。　Damn　his
detractors。　They　were　blind　to　the　bigger　picture。　They　squabbled　like　children　over　body　counts　and
budgets　when　it　was　this；　life　or　death　on　the　battlefield；　that　truly　mattered。
It　was　here　the　future　would　be　decided；　here　that　he　would　meet　Ghazghkull　Mag　Uruk　Thraka
for　the　very　last　time。　The　ork　warlord　would　die　today；　or　they　both　would。　Either　way　was　fine
with　Yarrick；　so　long　as　his　life’s　work；　the　mission　that　had　made　him　a　legend　among　men；　was
complete。
Looking　left　and　right；　Yarrick　cast　his　eyes　over　the　forces　that　Segmentum　Command　had
amassed　and　placed　at　his　disposal。　Millions　of　men　and　women　stood　ready　to　do　their　duty。　Their
ranks　stretched　away　to　the　north　and　south　as　far　as　the　eye　could　see；　and　there　were　more　to　the
rear。
Yarrick　could　sense　their　determination　and　resolve。　They　were　here　to　win。　He　could　smell　it　on
the　air。　They　had　come　from　all　across　the　Imperium；　from　worlds　as　different　as　night　and　day；　but
they　were　utterly　unified　in　purpose。　They　would　turn　back　the　greenskin　threat。　They　would　protect
Holy　Terra。　They　would　safeguard　the　destiny　of　mankind　as　the　supreme　race　in　the　galaxy。
It　was　a　rousing　sight；　a　force　greater　than　he　had　ever　commanded　before。　Entire　divisions　of
tanks　and　artillery　pieces　sat　idling；　coughing　smoke　out　onto　the　breeze。　Sentinel　scouts　prowled
the　forward　lines　like　anxious　predators；　alert　to　any　signs　of　change　on　the　wind。　There　were　trucks
and　halftracks　by　the　thousand；　all　filled　with　devoted　infantrymen；　and　almost　as　many　Chimera
APCs　loaded　with　battle…hardened　storm　troopers。
Mightiest　of　all　were　the　god…like　Emperor…class　Titans　that　towered　over　everything；　arms
raised　parallel　to　the　ground；　vast　guns　ready　to　unleash　death　on　a　planet…shaking　scale。　They
looked　like　gods　of　war　cast　in　metal　and　ceramite。　Surely　no　other　creation　embodied　the　strength
of　humanity　so　absolutely。　Well；　perhaps　just　one。
From　the　railing　of　his　turret…mounted　pulpit；　Yarrick　looked　down　at　her　glacis　plate：　The
Fortress　of　Arrogance。
It　still　astounded　him　that　she　was　the　same　tank；　the　very　same　damned　tank　that　he　had　lost　on
Golgotha　all　those　years　ago。　From　her　black　armour　plates　to　her　massive　main　battle　cannon；　from
her　fine　gold　detailing　to　the　Mechanicus　shrine　that　graced　her　rear；　she　looked　exactly　as　she　had
on　the　day　he　had　first　laid　eyes　on　her。　To　him；　she　was　the　spirit　of　the　Imperial　Guard　made
manifest。
192
He　had　thought　her　lost　forever　until　a　Mechanicus　transmission　received　over　two　years　ago
mentioned　her　location。　Now　he　knew　he　had　been　right　to　push　for　a　recovery　mission。　Yes；　men
had　died　to　get　her　here。　By　all　accounts；　the　blood…price　had　been　horribly　high；　but　the　effect　of
her　presence　on　Armageddon　was　far　beyond　such　a　price。　Her　spirit　charged　the　air。　Men　reached
out　to　touch　her　cold；　hard　flanks；　muttering　prayers　for　strength　and　glory。　Even　now；　he　felt　their
eyes　on　her。　She　was　as　much　a　legend　as　he　was。
A　tinny　voice　sounded　in　his　ear。　It　was　his　comms…officer　speaking　over　the　intercom。　“The
lord　generals　wish　to　inform　you　that　their　armies　are　ready　to　march；　sir。　They　await　your　order　to
advance。”
“Good；”　said　Yarrick。　He　looked　again　at　the　far　foothills。　More　and　more　orks　were　swarming
over　them；　far　more　than　he　had　ever　faced　before。　Their　ugly　machines　filled　the　air　above　with
thick　black　smoke。　Numerous　weapon　misfires　sent　rockets　screaming　into　the　air。
Yarrick　activated　the　vox…speakers　that　protruded　from　the　Baneblade’s　turret。　Then　he　raised
his　oversized　power　claw　high　above　his　head。
“All　troops…”　he　bellowed。
His　amplified　words　rolled　out　over　the　battlefield　like　thunder。
He　swung　his　power　claw　downwards　with　a　chopping　motion。
“Forward！”
Engines　roared。　Treads　turned。　Boot…heels　struck　the　ground　in　perfect　rhythm。
The　Fortress　of　Arrogance　rumbled　into　battle；　and　the　land　trembled。
For　ever　after；　men　would　remember　this　day。




　　　　　　　　　　　（The　End）


。　…　。………【gzbysh】整理