Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第6部分

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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　its　side。　For　a　moment；　seeing　the　strugglings　of　their　sergeant’s　body　grow　still　as
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the　life　left　him；　his　troops　stood　gazing　at　him　in　shocked　silence；　hypnotised　by　the　brutal　calamity
of　their　leader’s　death。
“We　have　to　move；”　Larn　heard　someone　say　behind　him　as　he　realised　how　warm　it　had　grown
in　the　lander。　“The　smoke　is　getting　closer。　If　we　don’t　get　out　of　here　now　we’ll　either　burn　to　death
or　choke。”
As　one；　the　Guardsmen　burst　forward　to　rush　down　the　ramp。　The　light　outside　seemed　blinding
in　its　intensity　after　the　shadowed　dimness　of　the　interior　of　the　lander。　Barely　able　to　keep　his　feet
as　the　men　behind　him　pushed　to　get　out；　Larn　stumbled　down　the　ramp　with　the　rest；　his　first
experiences　of　the　new　world　before　him　registering　as　a　disconnected　jumble　of　sights　and
sensations。　He　caught　snatches　of　an　empty　landscape　through　the　press　of　bodies　around　him；　saw　a
grey　and　brooding　sky　above　them；　felt　a　savage　chill　that　bit　gnawingly　into　his　flesh。　Worst　of　all
was　the　sight　of　Sergeant　Ferres’　burnt　and　disfigured　face。　The　fire…blackened　sockets　that　had　once
held　his　eyes　glimpsed　briefly　at　the　edge　of　Larn’s　vision　as　he　followed　the　others　down　the　ramp。
Then；　as　the　first　ranks　of　Guardsmen　reached　the　foot　of　the　ramp　and　apparent　safety；　the　frenzied
herd　instinct　of　a　few　moments　before　abruptly　abated。
Released　from　the　crushing　pressure　of　the　crowd　as　the　Guardsmen　in　front　moved　to　take
advantage　of　the　open　space　before　them；　Larn　was　relieved　to　find　himself　able　to　breathe　properly
once　more。　Then；　standing　uncertainly　with　the　others　as　they　milled　leaderless　in　the　shadow　of　the
lander；　he　turned　to　take　his　first　clear　view　of　the　planet　around　him。
This　is　it；　he　thought；　his　breath　turning　to　white　vapour　in　the　cold。　This　is　Seltura　VII　It　doesn’t
look　much　like　how　they　described　it　in　the　briefing。
Around　him；　as　endless　as　the　wheat　fields　of　his　homeworld；　was　a　bleak　and　barren　landscape
—　a　flat　treeless　vista　of　frozen　grey…black　mud；　punctuated　here　and　there　by　shell　craters　and　the
rusting　silhouettes　of　burned…out　vehicles。　To　the　east　of　him；　he　saw　a　distant　cityscape　of　rained
buildings；　as　grey；　foreboding　and　abandoned　as　every　other　aspect　of　the　landscape　around　it。　It
looks　like　a　ghost　town；　he　thought　with　a　shiver。　A　ghost　town；　hungry　for　more　ghosts。
“I　don’t　understand　it；”　he　heard　a　questioning　voice　say　as　he　realised　Leden；　Hallan　and
Vorrans　had　come　to　stand　beside　him。　“Where　are　the　trees？”　Leden　asked。　“They　said　Seltura…VII
was　covered　in　forests。　And　it’s　cold。　They　said　it　would　be　summer。”
“Never　mind　that；”　said　Hallan；　terse　at　his　side。　“We　need　into　get　to　cover。　I　heard　shots　hitting
the　hull　when　we　landed。　There　must　be　hostiles　around　here　some　—　”　He　paused；　stopping　to　look
up　with　anxious　eyes　at　the　sky　as；　overhead；　they　heard　the　whistle　of　a　shell　coming　closer。
“Incoming！”　someone　screamed　as　the　entire　company　raced　frantically　to　seek　shelter　at　the
side　of　the　lander。　Seconds　later；　an　explosion　lifted　up　dancing　clods　of　frozen　mud　thirty　metres
away　from　where　they　were　standing。
“I　think　it　was　a　mortar；”　Vorrans　said；　an　edge　of　panic　to　his　voice　as　he　huddled　with　the
others　beside　the　lander。　“It　sounded　like　a　mortar；”　he　said；　jabbering　uncontrollably　in　a　breathless
rush　of　fear。　“A　mortar；　don’t　you　think？　A　mortar。　I　think　it　was　a　mortar。　A　mortar…”
“I　wish　to　the　Emperor　that　was　all　it　was；”　Hallan　said。　Around　them；　more　shots　and
explosions　rang　out。　A　fusillade　that　seemed　to　ominously　increase　in　volume　with　every　instant；　as
the　noise　of　bullets　and　shells　striking　the　hull　on　the　other　side　of　the　lander　grew　so　loud　they　had
to　shout　to　be　heard　over　the　roar。　“Lucky　for　us　whoever’s　shooting　is　on　the　other　side　of　this
lander　but　we　can’t　stay　here　forever。　We　need　to　find　better　cover；　or　it’s　only　a　matter　of　time
before　their　artillery　finds　the　range　and　starts　to　loop　shells　over　the　lander　to　land　right　on　top　of
us。”
“Maybe　this　is　all　a　mistake？”　Vorrans　said；　his　face　alive　with　the　glimmer　of　desperate　hope。
“That’s　it；　mistaken　identity。　Maybe　it’s　our　own　side　doing　the　shooting　and　they　don’t　know　who
we　are。　We　could　make　a　white　flag　and　try　to　signal　them。”
“Shut　up；　Vors。　You’re　talking　like　an　idiot。”　Hallan　snapped。　Then；　seeing　Vorrans　look　at　him
in　shock；　he　softened　his　tone。　“Believe　me；　Vors；　there’s　nothing　mistaken　about　it。　There’s　a　ten30
metre　tall　Imperial　eagle　painted　on　each　side　of　the　hull　of　the　lander。　The　people　shooting　at　us
know　exactly　who　we　are。　That’s　why　they’re　trying　to　kill　us。　Our　only　way　out　of　this　is　to　try　and
make　for　our　own　lines。　Though　we’ll　need　to　find　out　where　they　are　first。”
“There！”　Leden　said；　his　finger　pointing　eastward。　“You　see　it　—　the　eagle　in　the　distance。
Sweet　Emperor；　we’re　saved。”
Turning　to　follow　the　direction　of　Leden’s　jabbing　finger；　Larn　saw　a　flagpole　rising　from　the
rubble…strewn　outskirts　of　the　city。　At　its　top　a　worn　and　ragged　flag：　an　Imperial　eagle；　fluttering　in
the　breeze。
“You’re　right；　Leden；”　Hallan　said；　the　excitement　in　his　voice　drawing　the　attention　of　the　rest
of　the　company　as　dozens　of　eyes　turned　to　look　toward　the　flag。　“It’s　our　own　lines；　all　right。　If　you
look　closely　you　can　see　the　outlines　of　camouflaged　bunkers　and　firing　emplacements。　That’s
where　we　should　be　headed。”
“But　it’s　got　to　be　seven　or　eight　hundred　metres　away　at　least；　Hals；”　Vorrans　protested。　“With
nothing　between　us　and　that　flag　but　open　ground。　We’ll　never　make　it。”
“We　don’t　have　any　choice；　Vors；”　Hallan　said。　Then；　seeing　the　eyes　of　every　other　Guardsman
in　the　company　were　on　him；　he　turned　to　them；　his　voice　raised　loud　enough　to　be　heard　among　the
din　of　gunfire。　“Listen　to　me；　all　of　you。　I　know　you’re　scared。　Zell　knows；　I　am　too。　But　if　we　stay
here　we　are　as　good　as　dead。　Our　only　chance　is　to　make　for　that　flag！”
For　a　moment　there　was　no　response　as　the　Guardsmen　cast　frightened　eyes　from　the　now
burning　lander　to　the　wide　expanse　of　open　ground　before　them。　Each　man　weighing　an　unwelcome
decision：　to　stay　and　risk　an　undetermined　death　sometime　in　the　future；　or　to　run　and　risk　an
immediate　death　in　the　present。　Then；　suddenly；　a　shell　landed　on　their　side　of　the　lander　no　more
than　five　metres　from　where　they　were　standing　and　the　decision　was　made　for　them。
They　ran。
Breathless；　terror　dogging　his　every　step；　Larn　ran　with　them。　He　ran；　as　from　behind　them　there
came　a　remorseless　tide　of　gunfire　as　the　unseen　enemy　tried　to　shoot　them　down。　He　saw　men　die
screaming　all　around　him；　red　gore　spraying　from　chests　and　arms　and　heads　as　the　bullets　struck
them。　He　saw　men　killed　by　falling　shells；　bodies　torn　apart　by　blast　and　shrapnel；　heads　and　limbs
dismembered　in　an　instant。　All　the　time　he　kept　his　eyes　glued　on　the　flag　…　his　would…be　refuge　—
in　the　distance　before　him。　His　every　breath　a　silent　prayer　in　the　hope　of　salvation。　His　every　step
one　closer　to　making　that　salvation　a　reality。
As　he　ran；　he　saw　friends　and　comrades　die。　He　saw　Hallan　fall　first；　his　right　eye　exploding
from　its　socket　to　make　way　for　the　bullet　passing　though　it；　his　mouth　open　in　a　cry　of
encouragement　to　his　fellow　Guardsmen　that　would　never　be　finished。　Then　Vorrans；　his　torso
ruptured　and　mutilated　as　a　dozen　pieces　of　shrapnel　exploded　through　his　chest。　Other　men　fell：
some　he　had　known　by　name；　others　he　had　known　only　by　sight。　All　of　them　killed　as；　just　as
breathless　and　desperate　as　he　was；　they　ran　for　the　flag。　Until　at　last；　with　most　of　his　comrades
dead　already　and　the　flag　still　a　hundred　metres　away；　Larn　realised　he　would　never　make　it。
“Here！　Over　here！　Quickly；　this　way！　Over　here！”
Suddenly；　hearing　shouting　voices　nearby　Larn　turned　to　see　a　group　of　Guardsmen　in　greyblack
camouflage　appear　as　if　from　nowhere　to　beckon　him　towards　them。　Changing　direction　to
head　for　them；　he　saw　they　had　emerged　from　a　firing　trench　and　raced　towards　it　with　enemy
bullets　chewing　up　the　ground　around　him。　Until　at　last；　reaching　the　trench；　he　leapt　inside　to
safety。
Trying　to　catch　his　breath　as　he　lay　at　the　bottom　of　the　trench；　looking　about　him　Larn　saw　five
Guardsmen　standing　around　him　in　the　confines　of　the　trench：　all　clad　in　the　same　uniform　of　greyblack
patterned　greatcoats；　mufflers　and　fur…shrouded　helmets。　At　first　they　ignored　him；　their　eyes
turned　to　scan　the　killing　fields　he　had　just　escaped　from。　Then；　one　of　the　Guardsmen　turned　to
look　down　towards　him　with　a　grimace　and　finally　spoke。
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“This　is　Vidmir　in　trench　three；　sergeant；”　the　Guardsmen　said；　pressing　a　stud　at　his　collar　as
Larn　realised　he　was　speaking　down　a　comm…link。　“We　have　one　survivor。　I　think　a　few　more　made
it　to　the　other　trenches。　But　most　of　those　poor　dumb　bastards　are　dead　out　there　in　no…man’s　land。
Over。”
“I　can　see　movement　on　the　ork　side；”　one　of　the　other　Guardsmen　said；　standing　looking　over
the　trench　parapet。　“All　this　killing　must　have　got　their　blood　up。　They’re　getting　ready　for　an
attack。”　Then；　while　Larn　was　still　wondering　if　he　had　really　heard　the　word　“ork”；　he　saw　the　man
turn　away　from　the　parapet　to　look　towards　him。
“Assuming　that　uniform　you’re　wearing　is　not　just　for　show；　new　fish；　you　might　want　to　stand
up　and　get　your　lasgun　ready。　There’s　going　to　be　shooting。”
Pulling　himself　to　his　feet；　Larn　unslung　his　lasgun；　stepping　forward　as　the　other　Guardsmen
moved　sideways　to　make　space　for　him　on　the　trench’s　firing　step。　Then；　as　he　checked　his　lasgun
and　made　ready　to　put　it　to　his　shoulder；　he　saw　something　that　caused　him　to　wonder　if　his　first
combat　drop　might　have　gone　even　more　badly　wrong　than　he　could　have　thought。　As；　from　the
corner　of　his　eye；　he　spotted　a　bullet…riddled　wooden　sign　erected　behind　and　slightly　to　one　side　of
the　trench。　A　sign　whose　ironic　greeting　gave　him　pause　to　wonder　if　he　really　was　where　he
thought　he　was　at　all。
A　sign　that　said：
Welcome　to　Broucheroc。
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CHAPTER　SIX
12：09　hours　Central　Broucheroc　Time
Questions　of　Interstellar　Geography　and　Other　Revelations　—　A　Bad　Day　in　Hell　—　The　Waaagh！
—　A　Baptism　of　Fire　—　Hand…To…Hand　against　the　Enemy　—　An　Opinion　as　to　the　Best　Method　of
Killing　a　Gretchin
“They’re　getting　ready　to　move　all　right；”　the　Guardsman　said　next　to　him；　spitting　a　wad　of　greasy
phlegm　over　the　trench　parapet。　“They’ll　hit　us　hard　this　time；　and　in　numbers。　It’s　the　blood　that
does　it；　you　see。　Our　blood；　I　mean。　Human　blood。　The　sight　and　smell　of　it　always　makes　’em　more
willing　and　eager　for　a　fight。　Though；　Emperor　knows；　your　average　ork　is　usually　pretty　eager　to
begin　with。”
His　name　was　Repzik：　Larn　could　see　the　faded　letters　of　the　name　stencilled　on　the　tunic　of　the
man’s　uniform　under　his　greatcoat。　Standing　beside　him　on　the　firing　step；　Larn　followed　the
direction　of　his　eyes　to　look　into　the　landscape　he　now　knew　as　no…man’s　land。
No　matter　how　intently　he　stared　across　the　bleak　fields　of　frozen　mud　before　them　he　could　see
no　movement；　nor　for　that　matter　any　other　sign　of　the　enemy。　Ahead；　no…man’s　land　seemed　as　flat；
featureless　and　devoid　of　life　as　it　had　when　he　had　emerged　from　the　lander　to　his　first　view　of　it
barely　ten　minutes　ago。　The　only　difference　now　was　the　addition　of　the　burning　shell　of　the　lander
itself　and　with　it　the　bodies　of　his　company　strewn　haphazard　and　bloody　across　the　frozen
landscape。　Abruptly；　as　he　looked　out　at　the　remains　of　men　he　had　known　as　friends　and　comrades；
Larn　felt　the　beginnings　of　tears　stinging　wetly　at　the　corners　of　his　eyes。
Jenks　is　dead；　he　thought。　And　Hallan；　Vorrans；　Lieutenant　Winters；　even　Sergeant　Ferres。　I
don’t　see　Leden。　Perhaps　he　is　still　alive　somewhere。　But　nearly　every　man　I　came　here　with　from
Jumael　is　lying　dead　out　there　in　no…man’s　land。　All　of　them　slaughtered　within　minutes　of　landing；
without　even　having　fired　a　shot。
“It’s　a　pity　about　your　comrades；”　Repzik　said；　his　voice　almost　kindly　as　Larn　clenched　his　eyes
to　try　and　stop　the　other　men　in　the　trench　from　seeing　his　tears。　“But　they’re　dead　and　you　ain’t。
What　you　need　to　start　thinking　about　now　is　how　you’re　going　to　stop　yourself　from　joining　them。
The　orks　are　coming；　new　fish。　If　you　want　to　live　you’re　going　to　have　to　keep　yourself　hard　and
tight。”
“Orks？”　Larn　said；　trying　to　concentrate　his　mind　on　the　practical　in　an　effort　to　lay　his　grief
aside。　“You　said　‘orks’？　I　didn’t　know　there　were　any　orks　on　Seltura　VII？”
“Could　be　that’s　true；”　Repzik　said；　as　beside　him　one　of　the　other　Guardsmen　looked　to　the　sky
in　silent　exasperation。　“Fact　is；　you’d　have　to　ask　somebody　who’s　actually　been　there。　Here　in
Broucheroc　though　we　generally　have　more　orks　than　we　know　what　to　do　with。”
“Wait；”　asked　Larn；　confused；　“are　you　telling　me　this　planet　isn’t　Seltura　VII？”
“Well；　I　wasn’t　specifically　commenting　on　it；　new　fish；”　Repzik　said。　“But　since　you　ask；　you’d
be　right　enough。　This　place　isn’t　Seltura　VII　—　wherever　in　hell　that　is。”
Stunned；　for　a　moment　Larn　wondered　if　he　had　somehow　misunderstood　the　man’s　meaning。
Then；　he　looked　out　again　at　the　treeless　landscape　and　was　struck　by　all　the　troubling
inconsistencies　between　what　he　had　been　told　to　expect　on　Seltura　VII　and　the　stark　brutal　realities
of　the　world　he　saw　before　him。　They　had　made　the　drop　three　weeks　early。　There　were　no　forests。　It
was　winter　rather　than　summer。　The　war　here　was　against　orks；　not　PDF　rebels。　A　catalogue　of　facts
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that；　with　a　dawning　horror　born　of　slow　realisation；　pushed　him　inexorably　toward　a　sudden　and
shocking　conclusion。
Holy　Throne；　he　thought。　They　sent　us　to　the　wrong　planet！
“I　shouldn’t　be　here；”　he　said　aloud。
“It’s　funny　how　everyone　tends　to　think　that　when　they’re　waiting　for　an　attack　to　begin；”　said
Repzik。　“I　wouldn’t　worry　about　it；　new　fish。　Once　the　orks　get　here　you’ll　soon　find　yourself
feeling　right　at　home。”
“No；　you　don’t　understand；”　Larn　said。　“There　has　been　a　terrible　mistake。　My　company　was
supposed　to　be　going　to　the　Seltura　system。　To　a　world　called　Seltura　VII；　to　put　down　a　mutiny
among　the　local　PDF。　Something　must　have　gone　wrong　because　I’m　on　the　wrong　planet。”
“So？　What　is　that　to　me？”　Repzik　said；　his　eyes　as　he　looked　at　Larn　seemed　little　warmer　than
the　landscape　around　them。　“You　are　on　the　wrong　planet。　You　are　in　the　wrong　system。　Not　to
mention　probably　the　wrong　war。　Get　used　to　it；　new　fish。　If　that　is　the　worst　thing　that　happens　to
you　today；　you　will　have　been　lucky。”
“But　you　don’t　understand—”
“No。　It　is　you　who　does　not　understand；　new　fish。　This　is　Broucheroc。　We　are　surrounded　by　ten
million　orks。　And　right　now　some　of　those　orks　—　maybe　only　a　few　thousand　or　so；　if　we　are　lucky
—　are　getting　ready　to　attack　us。　They　don’t　care　what　planet　you　think　you　should　be　on。　They
don’t　care　that　you　think　you’re　in　the　wrong　place；　that　you’re　wet　behind　the　ears；　or　that　you’re
probably　not　even　old　enough　to　shave。　All　they　care　about　is　killing　you。　So　if　you　know　what　is
good　for　you；　new　fish；　you　will　put　all　this　crap　aside　and　start　worrying　about　killing　them
instead。”
Shocked　at　the　man’s　outburst　Larn　said　nothing；　his　reply　dying　on　his　tongue　as　he　saw　Repzik
turn　away　from　him　to　gaze　darkly　into　no…man’s　land　once　more。　As　though　by　some　sixth　sense
the　other　Guardsmen　in　the　trench　had　already　done　the　same；　all　of　them　staring　hard　into　no…man’s
land　as　though　watching　something　happening　out　there　of　which　Larn　was　entirely　unaware。　No
matter　how　hard　Larn　tried；　he　could　see　nothing。　Nothing　except　grey…black　mud　and　desolation。
Frustrated；　wary　of　asking　the　others　what　they　were　looking　at　for　fear　of　drawing　another
angry　outburst；　Larn　turned　to　glance　around　him。　Behind　him；　hidden　from　his　sight　when　he　had
first　landed　by　a　gentle　sloping　of　the　ground；　was　a　series　of　firing　trenches　and　foxholes。　All　of
them　led　down　towards　sandbag　emplacements　that　covered　the　entrances　to　a　number　of
underground　dugouts　set　among　the　shattered　husks　of　buildings　at　the　outskirts　of　the　city。　Now　his
eyes　had　become　accustomed　to　the　relentless　grey　of　the　landscape；　Larn　could　see　other　firing
trenches　around　and　to　the　side　of　their　trench　—　their　parapets　cunningly　camouflaged　to　look　no
different　from　the　countless　chunks　of　crumbling　half…buried　plascrete　and　other　detritus　that　lay
scattered　across　this　wasteland。　From　time　to　time　a　Guardsman　would　suddenly　emerge　from　one　of
the　trenches　to　run　half…crouched；　zigzagging　from　one　piece　of　cover　to　the　next　until　he　reached
the　safety　of　either　another　trench　or　the　entrance　to　one　of　the　dugouts。　Behind　them；　in　the
distance；　the　main　body　of　the　city　stood　brooding　across　the　horizon　as　though　watching　their　lives
and　labours　with　disdain。　A　city　of　ruined　and　battle…scarred　buildings　set　against　a　grey　and
uncaring　sky。
This　is　Broucheroc；　Larn　reminded　himself。　That　is　what　they　said　the　city　was　called。
“There；”　one　of　the　Guardsmen　said　beside　him。　“I　see　green。　The　bastards　are　moving。”
Turning　to　gaze　once　more　into　no…man’s　land　with　the　others；　for　a　moment　Larn　found　himself
vainly　struggling　to　see　anything　among　the　wearying　grey　of　the　world　about　them。　Then；　suddenly；
at　ground　level；　perhaps　a　kilometre　away；　he　saw　a　brief　glimpse　of　green　flesh　as　its　owner　stood
upright　for　a　split　second　before　abruptly　disappearing　once　more。
“I　see　it；”　Larn　said；　the　words　jumping　breathless　from　him；　unbidden。　“Holy　Emperor！　Is　that
an　ork？”
34
“Hhh。　I　only　wish　orks　were　as　small　as　that；　new　fish；”　Repzik　said；　spitting　over　the　parapet
into　no…man’s　land　again。　“That’s　a　gretch。　A　gretchin。　Keep　looking　and　you　should　be　able　to　see
some　more。”
He　was　right。　Ahead；　Larn　saw　the　creature　stand　upright　once　more。　This　time　it　stood　where　it
was　unmoving；　its　green　flesh　plainly　visible　against　the　contrast　of　the　grey　backdrop　of　the
landscape　behind　it。　Then；　after　a　moment；　Larn　saw　another　dozen　creatures　appear　beside　it；　all　of
them　standing　still　and　motionless　as　though　trying　to　smell　something　on　the　wind。　Each　of　them
perhaps　a　metre　tall　at　most；　their　stunted　green　bodies　appearing　curiously　hunched　and　misshapen
inside　their　rough　grey　garments。　Watching　them；　Larn　felt　himself　recoil　in　instinctive　horror　at　his
first　sight　of　an　alien　species。　Until；　before　he　even　knew　what　he　was　doing；　his　finger　was　on　the
trigger　of　las…gun　at　his　shoulder　as　he　sighted　in　on　the　Xenos。
“Don’t　bother；　new　fish；”　Repzik　said；　laying　a　hand　across　his　barrel。　“Even　if　you　did　manage
to　hit　one　of　the　gretch　at　this　range；　you　would　be　wasting　your　ammo。　Save　it　“til　later。　Save　it　for
the　orks。”
“I　don’t　like　it；”　one　of　the　other　Guardsmen　said。　“If　the　orks　are　sending　their　gretch　out　like
that　it　means　they’re　planning　on　hitting　us　with　a　frontal　assault。　Another　one。　What　is　that　now？
Something　like　the　third　one　today？”
“Third　time　is