Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第5部分

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This　is　it；　Larn　thought。　After　all　the　training　and　briefings；　all　the　preparations；　the　moment　for
which　it　was　all　in　aid　of　is　here　at　last。　I　am　finally　going　to　war。　As　much　as　that　thought　filled　his
mind；　he　found　himself　distracted　as　a　second　thought　pushed　itself　insistently　to　the　fore。　Three
weeks；　he　thought。　Three　weeks；　maybe　four。　That　is　what　the　naval　officer　said　in　the　briefing　only
yesterday。　He　said　it　would　be　at　least　three　weeks　before　we　saw　any　action。　Confused；　Larn
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wondered　what　could　have　changed　in　the　meantime。　If　yesterday　they　were　still　three　weeks　from
combat；　how　was　it　today　they　were　about　to　make　their　first　drop？
“The　mind　of　the　Guardsman　has　no　place　for　questions；”　the　vox…caster　screamed　unnervingly。
“Doubt　is　a　vile　cancer　whose　symptoms　are　cowardice　and　fear；　steel　yourself　against　it。　There　is
room　for　but　three　things　in　the　mind　of　the　Guardsman：　obedience；　duty；　and　love　of　the　Emperor。”
Abruptly；　as　though　the　blaring　of　the　vox…caster　was　somehow　the　sound　of　his　own
conscience；　Larn　felt　a　sudden　shame。　He　thought　of　his　family　far　away　on　Jumael；　and　how　every
night　they　would　be　offering　a　prayer　for　his　safety　as　they　knelt　before　the　votive　picture　of　the
Emperor　above　the　fire　mantle。　He　thought　about　the　tale　his　father　had　told　him；　about　his　greatgrandfather
and　the　lottery。　He　thought　about　all　the　promises　he　had　made　his　Pa　about　doing　his
duty。　He　realised；　for　all　his　talk　and　promises　then；　how　close　he　had　coming　to　failing　them　at　the
very　first　hurdle。　It　did　not　matter　that　the　facts　given　him　in　yesterday’s　briefing　now　seemed　at
odds　with　today’s　reality。　He　was　a　Guardsman；　and　all　that　mattered　was　that　he　did　his　duty。
Putting　his　questions　aside　he　found　himself　comforted　by　the　memory　of　his　father’s　words　in　the
cellar；　his　recollection　of　his　father’s　voice　serving　as　a　kinder　and　more　gentle　counterpoint　to　the
vox…caster’s　wail　and　bombast。
“Trust　to　the　Emperor；”　his　father　had　told　him　with　tears　in　his　eyes。　“Trust　to　the　Emperor；　and
everything　will　be　all　right。”
Emerging　from　the　cramp　and　narrowness　of　the　corridor；　the　launch　bay　seemed　huge　as　Larn
followed　the　men　in　front　of　him　inside　it。　Ahead　he　saw　the　imposing　bulk　of　a　lander；　steam　rising
from　the　hydraulics　of　the　platform　it　rested　on　as　tech…adepts　scurried　around　it　like　mindful　ants
giving　succour　to　a　fallen　giant。　He　saw　adepts　manning　the　massive　fuel　lines　that　ran　from　a
recessed　spout　in　the　far　wall　of　the　launch　bay　to　the　lander’s　engines；　while　others　anointed　the
surfaces　of　the　lander　with　unguents；　burned　incense；　performed　blessings；　or　made　final
adjustments　to　the　lander’s　systems　with　the　diverse　instruments　of　holy　calibration。　All　the　while
the　lander　hummed　with　power；　the　thrumming　of　its　restive　engines　vibrating　through　the　metal
floor　of　the　launch　bay　towards　where　Larn　and　the　others　stood　gazing　at　it　uncertainly；　like　wary
travellers　unsure　whether　to　risk　waking　a　sleeping　tiger。
“Get　moving；　you　inbreeds！”　Sergeant　Ferres　yelled；　the　volume　of　the　continuing　vox…caster
broadcasts　around　them　having　been　diminished　enough　by　the　open　spaces　of　the　launch　bay　for
them　to　at　last　hear　their　sergeant’s　commands。　“A　man　might　almost　think　you　bumpkins　hadn’t
seen　a　lander　before。”
In　truth；　none　of　them　had：　their　journey　from　Jumael　to　the　orbiting　troopship　having　been
undertaken　inside　local　planetary　shuttles　of　much　less　startling　dimensions。　As　Larn　rushed　towards
the　lander　with　the　others　he　found　himself　in　awe　to　be　approaching　so　enormous　a　vehicle。　It　looks
like　it　could　hold　a　couple　of　thousand　men　at　least；　he　thought。　Not　to　mention　tanks　and　artillery
besides。　For　the　first　time　he　truly　appreciated　the　extraordinary　scale　of　the　troopship　he　had　been
travelling　within　for　the　last　twenty…nine　days。　Sweet　Emperor；　he　thought　in　amazement；　to　think
they　say　this　ship　carries　twenty　such　landers！
At　the　front　the　mouth　of　the　lander　lay　open；　the　primary　assault　ramp　stretching　towards　them
like　the　tongue　of　some　improbable　metal　beast。　Running　up　the　ramp　into　the　cavernous　and　dimly
lit　interior　of　the　lander　itself；　Larn　and　the　others　found　a　grim…faced　member　of　the　lander’s　crew
waiting　to　point　them　in　the　direction　of　a　nearby　stairwell。　Then；　following　the　stairwell　to　its
summit；　they　came　to　the　vast　rows　and　aisles　of　seats　of　the　lander’s　upper　troop…deck。
“Find　a　seat　and　fasten　your　restraints；”　Ferres　barked。　“I　want　you　seated　together　in　fireteam；
section；　and　platoon　order。　Any　man　who　isn’t　in　his　seat　and　ready　for　drop　in　two　minutes’　time　is
going　to　find　himself　on　a　charge。”
Hurrying　to　his　seat　Larn　quickly　sat　down；　carefully　fastening　the　buckles　of　the　seat’s　impact
restraints　across　his　waist；　shoulders　and　chest；　before　tightening　them　to　fit　him。　Making　sure　the
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safety　on　his　lasgun　was　set　to　“safe”；　he　pushed　the　gun　upright　and　butt…first　into　the　shallow
recess　of　the　weapon　holder　set　at　the　front　of　his　seat　and　clipped　the　barrel　lock　closed　to　hold　the
gun　in　place。　Then；　looking　about　him　at　the　other　Guardsmen　as　they　did　likewise；　Larn　found
himself　briefly　confused　as　he　realised　just　how　few　men　there　were　inside　the　lander。　Despite　the
fact　that　the　lander　was　built　to　house　a　minimum　of　two　thousand　men；　there　was　at　most　a　single
company　of　men　inside　it。　It　looks　like　they　are　only　dropping　my　company；　he　thought。　6th
Company。　But　that　would　make　no　sense。　Why　would　they　only　put　only　two　hundred　men　on　board；
when　this　lander　can　hold　ten　times　that？　No。　They　must　be　going　to　load　more　men　on　board。　No
doubt　we　are　just　the　first　aboard　and　rest　of　the　regiment　will　be　following　us　soon　enough。
“Ready　for　launch　in　‘T’　minus　two　point　zero　zero　minutes；”　a　harsh　metallic　voice　announced
over　a　hidden　vox…caster　speaker　as；　in　the　distance；　Larn　heard　the　slow　grinding　of　the　lander’s
assault　ramp　closing。
“Sounds　like　we　got　into　our　seats　just　in　time；　Larnie；”　Jenks　said；　as　Larn　realised　he　had　taken
the　seat　next　to　him。　“Good　thing；　too。　Never　mind　old　Ferres　and　his　threats；　I　wouldn’t　want　to　be
wandering　around　out　of　my　seat　when　this　monster　finally　gets　going。”
With　that　Jenks　turned　away　to　fasten　his　own　seat…restraints。　For　a　moment；　still　confused；　Larn
found　himself　fighting　the　urge　to　ask　Jenks　where　he　thought　the　rest　of　the　regiment　was。　Then；
abruptly；　he　realised　it　made　no　difference。　It　was　too　late　to　turn　back　now。　Like　it　or　not；　it　looked
like　6th　Company　would　be　making　their　first　planetary　drop　on　their　own。
“Ready　for　launch　in　‘T’　minus　one　point　zero　zero　minutes；”　the　voice　said　again；　as　Larn　felt
the　vibrations　of　the　lander’s　engines　grow　stronger。
“Don’t　worry；　Larnie；”　said　Jenks　by　his　side　as；　trying　as　much　to　allay　his　own　anxieties　as
comfort　a　friend；　he　turned　to　give　Larn　a　kindly　smile。　“They　say　it’s　not　the　fall　you　need　to　worry
about。　It’s　hitting　the　ground　that　kills　you。”
“Ready　for　launch　in　‘T’　minus　zero　point　three　zero　minutes；”　the　metallic　voice　continued　its
countdown　as　Larn　realised；　too　late；　he　had　forgotten　to　pray　to　the　Emperor　for　a　safe　descent。
“Ready　for　launch　in　‘T’　minus　zero；”　the　voice　said　as　the　lander’s　engines　fired　and　Larn
found　himself　feeling　suddenly　weightless。　“All　systems　ready。　Launch！”
And　then；　quicker　than　Larn　would　have　thought　possible；　they　were　falling。
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CHAPTER　FIVE
23：12　hours　Imperial　Standard　Time
（Revised　Real…Space　Close　Planetary　Approximation）
Evasive　Manoeuvres　—　Falling　and　the　Taste　of　Vomit　—　Landfall；　Death　and　Grim　Realisation　—
The　Calamity　of　Sergeant　Ferres　—　No…man’s　land　and　the　Eagle　in　the　Distance　—　Welcome　to
Broucheroc
“Bearing　one　eight　degrees　one　five　minutes；”　the　navigation　servitor’s　voice　croaked；　the
parchment…thin　tones　of　its　voice　barely　audible　in　the　lander’s　crew　compartment　over　the　roar　of
engines。　“Recommend　course　correction　of　minus　zero　three　degrees　zero　eight　minutes　for　optimal
atmospheric　entry。　All　other　systems　reading　normal。”
“Check；”　said　the　pilot；　automatically　pushing　his　control　stick　forward　to　make　the　adjustment。
“New　bearing：　one　five　degrees　zero　seven　minutes。　Confirm　course　correction。”
“Course　correction　confirmed；”　the　servitor　said；　its　yellowing　sightless　eyes　rolling　back　in
their　sockets　as　it　rechecked　its　calculations。　“Atmospheric　entry　in　T　minus　five　seconds。　Two。
One。　Atmospheric　entry　achieved。　All　systems　reading　normal。”
“Look　at　that　glow；　Dren；”　Zil　the　co…pilot　said；　his　eyes　lifting　from　his　instruments　for　a
fraction　of　a　second　to　look　out　the　view…portal　at　the　nose　of　the　lander　as　it　was　surrounded　by　a
nimbus　of　bright　red　fire。　“No　matter　how　many　planetary　drops　we　do；　I　never　get　used　to　it。　It’s
like　riding　in　a　ball　of　flame。　It　makes　you　thank　the　Emperor　for　whoever　first　made　heat　shields。”
“Heat　shields　reading　normal；”　said　the　servitor；　gears　whirring　inside　it　as　it　mistook　the
comment　for　a　question。　“Exterior　temperature　within　permitted　operational　thresholds。　All　systems
reading　normal。”
“That’s　because　you’ve　only　got　a　dozen　drops　behind　you；”　the　pilot　said。　“Trust　me；　by　the
time　you’ve　done　another　dozen　you　won’t　even　notice　it。　How’s　the　signal　from　the　landing
beacon？　I　don’t　want　to　miss　the　drop　point。”
“Beacon　signal　reading　strong　and　clear；”　Zil　replied。　“No　air　traffic；　friendly　or　hostile。　Looks
like　we’ve　got　the　sky　to　ourselves。　Wait！　Auspex　is　reading　some—”
“Warning！　Warning！”　the　servitor　interrupted；　the　whirring　of　its　mechanisms　reaching　an　abrupt
crescendo　as　it　burst　into　life。　“Registering　hostile　missile　launch　from　ground…based　battery。
Recommend　evasive　manoeuvres。　Missile　trajectory　eight　seven　degrees　zero　three　minutes；
airspeed　six　hundred　knots。　Warning！　Registering　second　missile　launch。　Missile　trajectory—”
“Evasive　manoeuvres　confirmed！”　the　pilot　said；　pressing　his　control　stick　forward　as　he　pushed
the　lander　into　a　dive。　“Servitor：　belay　hostile　trajectories　and　airspeeds　until　further　orders。　Zil；
deploy　chaff！”
“Chaff　activated。　Instruments　reading　chaff　successfully　deployed；”　Zil　said；　his　voice　growing
suddenly　hoarse　as　he　looked　at　one　of　the　screens　before　him。
“Wait。　The　chaff；　it’s　not　done　any　good。　It’s　as　though…　Holy　Emperor！　None　of　the　hostile
missiles　have　guidance　systems！”
“What　do　you　mean？”　the　pilot　asked　as　he　saw　Zil’s　face　go　pale。　“If　that’s　the　case　we　have
nothing　to　worry　about。　If　they’re　firing　blind　there’s　not　one　chance　in　a　thousand　of　them　being
able　to　hit　us。”
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“But　that’s　exactly　it；”　said　Zil；　his　voice　frantic。　“I’m　reading　a　thousand　hostile　missiles　as
airborne　already。　And　hundreds　more　are　being　launched　every　second。　Holy　Throne！　We’re　flying
into　the　biggest　shitstorm　I’ve　ever　seen！”
“Emergency　evasion　procedures！”　the　pilot　said；　barking　out　orders　as　he　pushed　the　lander
forward　into　an　even　steeper　dive　while　from　outside　they　could　hear　the　first　of　the　missiles
exploding。　“Servitor：　override　standard　flaps　and　navigation　safety　protocols　—　I　want　full　control！
Make　sure　your　strapped　in　tight；　Zil　—　we’re　going　to　have　to　go　in　hard　and　heavy！　Looks　like
this　is　going　to　be　a　close　one…”
Falling。
They　were　falling。
With　nothing　to　slow　or　stop　them。
Like　a　comet。
Falling　headlong　from　the　stars。
In　the　lander’s　troop　compartment；　slammed　back　in　his　seat　by　the　force　of　acceleration；　it　felt
to　Larn　as　though　his　stomach　was　trying　to　push　its　way　up　from　his　throat。　Around　him　he　could
hear　men　screaming；　the　sound　all　but　drowned　out　by　the　dull　thud　of　explosions　from　outside　the
lander。　He　heard　cries　for　pity　and　muttered　oaths；　all　the　while　the　skin　being　pulled　so　tight　across
his　face　he　was　sure　it　was　about　to　rip　free　from　his　bones。　Then；　sounding　much　louder　than　any
noise　he　had　ever　known　before；　there　came　the　boom　of　another　explosion　and　with　it　the　gutwrenching
sound　of　tearing　metal。　With　those　sounds　he　found　himself　forced　back　against　his　seat
with　even　greater　force　as　the　fall　began　in　earnest。
We’ve　been　hit；　he　thought；　overcome　with　sudden　panic　while　the　world　began　to　spin　crazily
around　him　as　the　lander　turned　over　and　over　on　its　axis　out　of　control。　We’ve　been　hit；　the　thought
crowded　his　mind　and　held　him　at　its　mercy。　We’ve　been　hit！　Holy　Emperor；　we’re　in　freefall！
He　felt　himself　struck　in　the　face　by　a　ell　and　the　taste　of
the　droplets　dribbling　past　his　lips　telling　him　it　was　vomit。　Half　mad　with　desperation；　he　found
himself　wondering　incongruously　whether　it　was　from　his　own　stomach　or　someone　else’s。　Then
another　thought　forced　its　way　fearfully　into　his　mind　and　he　no　longer　cared　who　the　vomit
belonged　to。　A　thought　more　terrible　than　any　he　had　ever　considered　in　his　seventeen　years　of　life
to　date。
We　are　falling　from　the　sky；　he　thought。　We　are　falling　from　the　sky　and　we’re　going　to　die！
He　felt　his　gorge　rise　in　a　tide　of　sickly　acids；　the　half…digested　remnants　of　his　last　meal
spewing　uncontrollably　from　his　mouth　to　soak　some　other　unfortunate　elsewhere　in　the　lander。
Certain　he　was　on　the　brink　of　oblivion　he　tried　to　replay　the　events　of　his　life　in　his　mind。　He　tried
to　remember　his　family；　the　farm；　his　homeworld。　He　tried　to　think　of　fields　of　flowing　wheat；
magnificent　sunsets；　the　sound　of　his　father’s　voice。　Anything　to　blot　out　the　terrifying　reality
around　him。　It　was　hopeless　though　and　he　realised　the　last　moments　of　his　life　would　be　spent　with
the　following　sensations：　the　taste　of　vomit；　the　sound　of　men　going　screaming　to　their　deaths；　the
feeling　of　his　own　heart　beating　wildly　in　his　chest。　These　were　the　things　he　would　take　with　him　to
death：　the　last　sensations　he　would　ever　know。　Just　as　he　began　to　wonder　at　the　unfairness　of　it　all
the　world　stopped　spinning　as；　with　a　bone…jarring　impact　and　a　terrible　screech　like　the　death…knell
of　some　mortally　wounded　beast；　the　lander　finally　hit　the　ground。
For　a　moment　there　was　silence　while　the　interior　of　the　lander　was　plunged　into　total　darkness。
Next；　Larn　heard　the　sound　of　coughing　and　quiet　prayers　as　the　men　in　the　lander　drew　a　collective
breath　to　find；　despite　some　initial　misgivings；　they　were　very　much　alive。　Abruptly；　darkness　gave
way　to　dim　shadowy　light　at　the　activation　of　the　lander’s　emergency　illumination　system。　Then；　he
heard　a　familiar　strident　voice　begin　to　bark　out　orders　as　Sergeant　Ferres　sought　to　re…establish
control　of　his　troops。
“Fall　in！”　the　sergeant　shouted。　“Fall　in　and　prepare　to　disembark。　Get　off　your　arses；　damn　you；
and　start　acting　like　soldiers。　You’ve　got　a　war　to　fight；　you　lazy　bastards。”
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Releasing　his　seat…restraints　Larn　staggered　unsteadily　to　his　feet；　his　hands　warily　prodding　his
body　as　he　checked　to　see　whether　any　of　his　bones　were　broken。　To　his　relief；　it　seemed　he　had
survived　the　landing　little　the　worse　for　wear。　His　shoulders　were　sore；　and　he　had　the　painful
beginnings　of　a　bruise　where　the　clasp　of　one　of　the　seat…straps　had　bitten　into　his　flesh。　Other　than
that；　he　had　escaped　from　what　had　seemed　like　certain　death　remarkably　unscathed。　Then；　just　as
he　began　to　congratulate　himself　on　surviving　his　first　drop；　Larn　turned　to　retrieve　his　lasgun　and
saw　that　the　man　sitting　in　the　seat　next　to　him　had　not　been　so　lucky。
It　was　Jenks。　Head　lolling　sideways　at　a　sickening　angle；　eyes　staring　blankly　from　a　lifeless　and
slack…jawed　face；　Jenks　sat　in　his　seat　dead　and　unmoving。　Staring　at　his　friend’s　body　in　numb
disbelief；　Larn　noticed　a　thin　stream　of　blood　trickling　from　Jenks’　mouth　to　stain　his　chin。　Then；
spotting　a　small　bloody…ended　piece　of　pink　flesh　lying　on　the　floor　of　the　lander　beside　his　feet；
Larn　realised　that　with　the　force　of　the　landing　Jenks　must　have　inadvertently　bitten　off　the　end　of
his　tongue。　As　horrified　as　he　was　by　that　discovery；　Larn　could　not　at　first　understand　how　Jenks
had　died。　Until；　looking　once　more　at　arrangement　of　seat…restraints　around　his　friend’s　body　and　the
way　his　head　lolled　sideways　like　a　broken　puppet；　Larn　realised　the　restraints　had　been　improperly
fastened；　causing　Jenks’　neck　to　snap　at　the　moment　of　their　landing。　The　realisation　brought　him　no
comfort。　Jenks　was　dead。　Understanding　how　his　friend　had　died　did　nothing　to　lessen　Larn’s　grief。
“Fall　in；”　the　sergeant　shouted　again。　“Fall　in　and　get　ready　to　move　out。”
Still　numb　with　shock；　Larn　grabbed　his　lasgun　and　stumbled　past　Jenks’　body　to　join　the　rest　of
the　company　as　they　lined　up　in　one　of　the　aisles　between　the　upper　deck’s　endless　rows　of　seating。
As　he　did；　he　became　aware　for　the　first　time　of　the　sound　of　distant　ricochets　clanging　off　the
exterior　of　the　hull。　We　are　being　fired　at；　he　thought　dully；　his　mind　still　reeling　at　the　sight　of
Jenks’　corpse。　Until；　noticing　an　almost　palpable　sense　of　unrest　among　the　other　Guardsmen　as　he
took　his　place　in　the　line　and　waited　for　the　order　to　move　out；　Larn　realised　he　could　smell　smoke
and　with　it；　there　came　an　unwelcome　realisation　that　cut　through　the　fog　of　his　grief　and　seemed　to
grip　at　his　heart　with　clutching　icy　fingers。
The　lander　was　on　fire。
Spurred　on　by　horror　at　the　prospect　of　being　trapped　in　a　burning　lander；　the　Guardsmen　began
to　hurry　for　the　stairwell　while　behind　them　Sergeant　Ferres　shouted　profanities　in　the　vain　hope　of
maintaining　some　form　of　order。　No　one　was　listening。　Frenzied；　they　rushed　down　the　stairs
towards　the　lower　deck；　treading　on　the　corpses　of　those　already　killed　in　the　landing。
Running　with　the　others；　Larn　caught　a　brief　glimpse　of　their　company　commander；　Lieutenant
Vinters；　sitting　dead　in　his　seat　with　his　neck　broken　just　like　Jenks。　He　had　no　time　to　dwell　on　the
lieutenant’s　death：　caught　in　the　crush　of　fleeing　Guardsmen　he　could　only　run　with　the　crowd　as
they　made　for　the　lower　deck；　to　the　assault　ramp　and　freedom。　As　they　came　within　sight　of　it　they
found　that　the　assault　ramp　was　still　sealed　shut；　while　from　all　around　them　the　smell　of　smoke
grew　ever　stronger。
“Open　that　ramp！”　screamed　Sergeant　Ferres；　pushing　his　way　through　the　crowd　of　milling
Guardsmen　to　where　a　small　group　stood　studying　the　control　panel　governing　the　ramp’s
mechanism。　Seeing　the　group　raise　their　eyes　to　look　at　him　in　confusion；　he　pushed　them　aside　and
stretched　out　a　hand　towards　a　metal　lever　set　in　a　recess　by　the　edge　of　the　ramp。　“Useless
bastards！”　he　spat　in　contempt；　his　hand　closing　around　the　lever。　“The　master　control　panel　must
have　been　damaged　in　the　landing。　You　need　to　pull　the　emergency　release　lever　—　like　this。”
Pulling　the　lever；　Sergeant　Ferres　shrieked　in　sudden　agony　as　one　of　the　ramp’s　explosive
release　bolts　misfired；　a　bright　tongue　of　yellow　fire　bursting　from　the　side　of　ramp　to　engulf　his
face。　Screaming；　a　halo　of　flame　dancing　around　his　head；　he　stumbled　blindly　against　the　assault
ramp　as　the　other　bolts　fired　and　the　ramp　fell　open　behind　him。　Falling　into　the　suddenly　vacated
space；　his　body　rolled　down　the　ramp　and　came　to　a　stop　partway　down　it　as　one　of　his　legs　caught
on　a　protrusion　at