Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第18部分

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a　route　for　him　back　to　the　sewer　tunnel；　made　sure　that　he　had　memorised　the　directions。　Barreski
pressed　his　elbows　into　service；　and　started　to　force　his　way　across　the　yard。
And　that　was　when　he　saw　Mangellan；　his　traitor　escort　clearing　a　path　for　him；　using　their
lasguns　when　they　had　to。　And　he　was　just　a　few　metres　away…
He　couldn’t　resist　it。　He　knew　it　meant　giving　himself　away；　but　he　snuck　his　lasgun　out　from
beneath　his　robes；　flicked　its　power　pack　to　full　auto　and　squeezed　off　ten　las…beams　in　the　high
priest’s　direction。
The　traitors　reacted　quickly；　putting　themselves　in　the　line　of　fire；　deflecting　most　of　it　with　their
armour…　most　of　it…　Barreski　gave　a　triumphant　cry　as　one　of　his　beams　glanced　across
Mangellan’s　face；　causing　him　to　scream　out；　to　clap　his　hands　to　his　eyes。　But　now　he　had　his　own
safety　to　worry　about。
Already；　the　traitors　were　starting　to　move　towards　him。　He　had　to　lose　himself　again。　He　put　his
head　down；　tried　to　slip　away　amid　the　other　black　cloaks；　but　he　was　brought　up　short　by　a　brawny
cultist　with　a　knife。
“Did　you　see　him？”　bluffed　Barreski；　pointing　wildly。　“He　had　a　bomb；　and　he　was　coming　up
behind　the　high　priest。　He　would　have　killed　him　if　I　hadn’t…　Look；　you　need　to　defend　yourself！”
He　thrust　his　lasgun　into　the　cultist’s　hands　while　he　was　still　gaping；　trying　to　work　out　what　it　was
he　had　seen。
Then　Barreski　was　gone；　leaving　the　brawny　cultist　with　the　weapon。　Which　was　how　the
Traitor　Guardsmen　found　him；　a　second　later。
“Space　Marines！　Coming　up　the　passageway！”　Pozhar　hated　this。
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He　was　stationed　in　one　of　the　arched　doorways　into　the　palace　proper；　his　job　to　keep　it　as　clear
as　he　could　for　Steele　and　Wollkenden’s　escape。　This　meant　pretending　to　be　one　of　the　heretics　—
almost　as　bad；　pretending　to　be　afraid　—　but　Gavotski　had　given　him　no　say　in　the　matter。
Few　of　the　cultists　were　coming　this　way；　anyway。　Mikhaelev　and　Barreski　had　placed　their
charges　carefully；　herding　them　in　the　opposite　direction　—　and　of　those　who　did　try　to　pass　Pozhar；
about　half　were　turned　back　by　his　feigned　panic。　Still；　there　were　some　who　didn’t　seem　to　hear
him；　or　were　so　eager　to　get　out　of　the　courtyard　that　they　took　their　chances。　As　one　of　them
bumped　into　him；　it　was　all　he　could　do　not　to　draw　his　lasgun　and　start　shooting。
“They…　they’ve　got　chainswords！”　he　shouted　desperately　after　the　escapees。　“And　guns！　Big
guns！”
“Pozhar！”
He　turned　at　the　sound　of　his　name；　couldn’t　see　who　had　called　it　at　first。　In　a　yard　full　of　robed
figures；　it　was　near　impossible　to　tell　which　ones　were　his　comrades。　Then　he　recognised　the　slight
form　of　Palinev　—　and　there；　beside　him；　that　had　to　be　Grayle。　And　between　them…
Pozhar　raced　forward；　dived　into　the　crowd；　helped　Palinev　to　lift　the　unconscious　Wollkenden。
He　had　discarded　his　sling；　declaring　himself　healed；　still；　this　exercise　of　his　muscles　sent　a　lance
of　pain　down　his　right　arm。
“What　happened？”　he　cried。　“What　went　wrong？”
“It’s　okay；　trooper；”　said　Steele　breathlessly；　picking　himself　up；　leaning　on　Palinev。　“I　just…
overestimated　my　strength；　that’s　all。　Still　tired…　Perhaps　you　and　Grayle　could…　could　look　after
Confessor　Wollkenden　for　me？”
Pozhar　would　have　accepted　that　burden　gladly。　But　at　that　moment；　he　heard　gunfire　from
somewhere　close　by；　and　he　turned　to　see　a　squad　of　Traitor　Guardsmen　pushing　their　way　towards
the　Ice　Warriors。　They　were　brandishing　lasguns；　firing　into　the　air　so　that　the　heretics　parted　before
them。
Pozhar　drew　his　gun；　shouting　to　Grayle　and　Palinev；　“Go！　Get　the　confessor　and　the　colonel　out
of　here。　I’ll　hold　them　off！”
And　he　started　firing　—　not　upwards；　but　straight　into　the　bodies　in　front　of　him。
The　cultists　were　taken　unawares。　They　fell　like　dominoes；　each　hit　felling　three　or　more　of　them
—　and　the　ripple　effect　spread　back　to　the　Traitor　Guardsmen；　blocking　their　path；　threatening　to
knock　them　down　too。　They　tried　to　fire　back；　but　the　seething　mass　of　people　between　them　and
Pozhar　made　it　an　impossible　shot；　and　they　only　succeeded　in　taking　out　a　few　more　of　their　own。
He　could　have　gone　after　the　others；　then；　could　have　taken　the　chance　that　he　had　delayed　their
pursuers　long　enough　for　them　all　to　escape。　Yes；　he　could　have　done　that…
The　cultists　between　Pozhar　and　the　Traitor　Guardsmen　had　begun　to　rally；　identified　the　threat
in　their　midst　and；　unable　to　flee；　swarmed　him　instead。　Few　of　them　were　trained　fighters　—　half　of
them　were　women　—　but　they　had　overwhelming　numbers　on　their　side。　They　punched　the　Ice
Warrior；　clawed　at　him；　dragged　him　down。　He　saw　the　glint　of　a　knife　blade；　too　late　to　avoid　its
swipe；　felt　it　breaking　the　synth…skin　on　his　stomach　where　the　sewer　creature　had　holed　him　with　its
spines。　His　lasgun　was　snatched　from　him。　He　took　blow　after　blow　to　his　head。　He　wasn’t　quite
sure　what　kept　him　from　falling　down　—　but　as　long　as　he　was　standing；　he　would　fight。
Pozhar　was　a　whirlwind　of　limbs；　punching；　kicking；　scratching；　defying　any　of　his　foes　to　get　a
firm　hold　on　him。
And　clutched　in　his　left　fist；　he　held　his　ultimate　weapon：　the　primed　frag　grenade　that　would
collapse　the　archway　behind　Steele　and　the　others；　slow　down　anyone　who　tried　to　follow　them　—
and　also　ensure　that　the　heretics　that　killed　him　would　die　by　his　side。　Just　as　he　had　planned　would
happen　outside　Alpha　Hive　two　mornings　ago。
He　wondered　if　this；　then；　was　what　the　Emperor　had　spared　him　for　on　that　occasion。　He
wanted　to　believe　this。　But　the　itchy　grey　fur　was　all　over　his　chest；　spreading　down　his　back；　and　he
could　no　longer　open　his　right　hand　fully。　His　fingers　had　hunched　over　and　he　thought　his
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fingernails　had　grown　longer；　and　Pozhar　knew　in　his　heart　that　his　god　could　have　played　no　part　in
any　of　that。
He　hadn’t　come　into　this　battle　with　the　intention　of　dying　in　it。　At　least；　he　didn’t　think　he　had。
But　the　only　thing　keeping　his　secret　now；　he　was　sure；　was　the　black　cloak　he　was　wearing；　and　he
couldn’t　bear　to　see　the　expressions　of　his　comrades；　didn’t　want　to　have　to　face　their　judgement；
when　that　cloak　came　off。
The　Traitor　Guardsmen　were　almost　upon　him。　Another　few　seconds；　and　they　would　have　a
clear　shot；　would　be　able　to　finish　him。　He　activated　the　grenade；　on　a　short　fuse；　and　he　lured　them
back　towards　the　archway。
It　was　better　this　way；　he　thought。
Better　that　his　body　be　blown　apart；　and　then　liquefied　by　the　virus　bombs　before　any　piece　of
him　could　suffer　the　ignominy　of　being　flung　into　a　Chaos　burial　pit。　Better　that　no　one　should　have
the　chance　to　inspect　his　remains；　that　his　comrades；　let　alone　his　commanders；　should　never　learn
of　his　shame。
Better　to　let　them　all　believe　that　Trooper　Pozhar　died　a　hero。
Mangellan　was　blind。
He　hadn’t　seen　the　las…beam　that　had　hit　him；　his　eyes　already　teary　with　smoke。　There　had　just
been　a　flash；　and　a　searing　pain。　He　felt　as　if　his　face　was　on　fire。　He　couldn’t　see　where　he　was
going；　didn’t　know　what　was　happening；　he　had　to　trust　to　his　escorts　to　guide　him　to　safety。
He　stumbled　into　the　cooling　embrace　of　his　palace；　his　magnificent　Ice　Palace；　his　gods’　gift　to
him　—　but；　for　the　first　time；　he　felt　unsafe　within　its　walls。
He　could　hear　running　footsteps；　cultists　evacuating　around　him；　and　he　yelled　at　the　Traitor
Guardsmen　to　keep　them　away　from　him；　to　trust　no　one。
He　felt　an　insistent　tugging　at　his　sleeve；　heard　Furst’s　voice　ask；　“Why　are　we　running；　master？
What　about　the　sacrifices？　Who　is　guarding　them？”
He　brushed　the　irritant　away。
“They　are　chained！”　he　insisted；　leaning　against　the　wall　to　compose　himself；　rubbing　his　eyes
and　blinking；　praying　to　his　gods　that　the　blindness　might　only　be　temporary。
“But　if　their　allies　have　come　to　free　them—”
“Try　to　use　your　brains；　Furst；”　Mangellan　snapped；　“such　as　they　are。　Steele　brought　only　a
handful　of　soldiers　into　our　hive。　How　could　they　have　penetrated　this　palace；　my　palace；　without
our　knowing　about　it？　No；　this　attack　has　come　from　the　inside；　from　someone　who　is　jealous　of　all　I
have　achieved；　the　power　I　have　earned；　someone　who　wished　to　sully　my　most　glorious　moment。”
“I　am　sure　you　are　correct；　master；　but—”
“I　always　knew　it　would　happen。　I　knew　the　priests　were　always　scheming　and　plotting；　but　to
act　so　boldly…　Which　of　them　was　it？　What　do　you　say；　Furst？”
“I…　I　wouldn’t　know；　master。　I—”
Mangellan　lashed　out；　trying　to　grab　Furst　by　his　robes。　He　felt　his　hand　brush　against　the
loathsome　little　mutant　but　failed　to　take　hold　of　him。
“'You　are　always　sneaking　about；”　he　growled；　“lurking　in　places　you　should　not　be；　overhearing
what　you　should　not　have　heard。　Tell　me；　Furst；　who　is　to　blame　for　this　attack　upon　my　person；　this
affront　to　the　gods　I　serve？”
“Nobody；　master。　None　of　us　would　dare　cross　you　in　this　way。”
“You　saw　him；　didn’t　you！　If　not　the　traitor　who　planted　the　bombs；　then　certainly　the　wretched
opportunist　who　shot　at　me；　who　dared　take　my　sight！　I　will　find　him；　Furst；　and　when　I　am　through
with　him；　he　will　wish　he…　he…”
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Mangellan　hadn’t　felt　the　knife　enter　his　stomach；　so　quick　and　clean　had　been　the　incision。　Only
now；　as　he　felt　his　blood　spill　out；　as　a　dull　pain　spread　through　him　as　if　he　had　been　kicked…　only
now　that　he　realised　what　had　happened。
He　was　speechless；　weak；　dizzy。　He　could　only　listen　in　uncomprehending　horror　as　Furst　leaned
close　to　his　ear　—　Mangellan’s　legs　must　have　buckled；　making　him　slide　down　the　wall　that　was
supporting　him；　bringing　him　down　to　the　mutant’s　level　—　and　whispered　to　him；　“You　are　the　one
to　blame。　You　presumed　too　much；　thought　too　much　of　yourself；　and　now　look　what　you　have
wrought。　A　‘handful’　of　Emperor…lovers　has　humiliated　us；　brought　you　to　this。　I　hear　the　gods　—
oh；　you　were　so　certain　they　would　not　deign　to　speak　to　one　such　as　I；　that　I　would　not　understand
them　—　but　I　hear　them；　and　they　are　disappointed　with　you。　You　have　failed　them；　Mangellan。”
He　was　on　the　floor；　although　he　didn’t　remember　falling。　He　tried　to　lift　his　hands；　tried　to　turn
his　head　to　where　he　imagined　his　protectors　might　be；　tried　to　cry　out　to　them；　“Guards！　Guards；
attend　me！”
“They　won’t　help　you；”　Furst’s　voice　said　through　the　deepening　darkness。　“They　too　know　that
this　is　the　gods’　will。　And　they　now　serve　a　new　master。”
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CHAPTER　EIGHTEEN
Time　to　Destruction　of　Cressida：　03。34。45
The　room　was　small；　not　much　bigger　than　the　apartment　blocks　on　the　lower　hive　levels。　It　was
dominated　by　a　single　bed；　though　there　was　plenty　of　junk　piled　in　the　narrow　spaces　around　it：　bits
of　furniture；　clothing；　broken　lamps；　even　a　couple　of　paintings　with　their　corners　touched　by　fire。
The　walls　were　made　of　ice；　of　course。　A　large；　eight…pointed　star　had　been　painted　clumsily　on
one；　so　that　black　rivulets　ran　from　it　to　the　floor。
It　didn’t　surprise　Blonsky　that；　with　all　the　power　he　had；　all　the　space　available　in　the　nearemptied
hive　and　in　the　Ice　Palace；　Mangellan　still　had　his　followers　live　like　this。　The　harder　they
had　to　work　to　survive；　the　less　time　they　had　to　plot　against　him。　Not　that　the　occupant　of　this　room
could　care　much　any　more。
He　lay　crumpled　beneath　the　window　to　the　courtyard；　through　which　he　had　been　leaning　when
Blonsky　had　kicked　open　his　door。　Some　Ice　Warriors　held　that　it　was　wrong　to　shoot　an　enemy　in
the　back；　but　Blonsky　disagreed。　All　that　mattered　was　that　the　heretic　was　vanquished。　To　fail　to
take　that　shot　was　the　sin。
He　only　wished　he　had　had　a　few　more　shots　at　Mangellan。　He　had　been　taking　aim　when　he　had
seen　that　Grayle　was　in　trouble；　had　had　to　help　him　out　instead。　And　the　high　priest’s　guards　had
reacted　too　fast；　faster　than　he　had　expected。
One　of　them　was　here　now。　The　Chaos　Space　Marine。　His　bulk　filled　the　window　frame；　casting
the　small　room　into　shadow。　Blonsky　had　backed　up　as　far　as　the　door；　scrambling　over　the　bed；
wading　through　the　junk；　firing　his　lasgun；　knowing　it　would　do　little　damage；　hoping　at　least　to
throw　off　the　Chaos　Marine’s　balance；　make　him　lose　his　grip　on　the　outside　wall　and　fall。
He　should　have　given　up　by　now；　should　have　withdrawn。
He　hurled　a　frag　grenade；　but　the　Chaos　Space　Marine　caught　it　easily；　and　tossed　it　over　his
shoulder　to　erupt　in　the　sky　above　the　courtyard。　And　then　he　was　inside　the　room；　and　Blonsky　was
out　of　both　ammunition　and　time。
The　Chaos　Space　Marine　raised　his　gun　and　fired；　and　Blonsky　slammed　the　door　between　them
and　ran　as　bolts　punched　through　the　wood。　Barely　a　second　later；　he　heard　a　cracking；　wrenching
sound　as　the　door　was　torn　from　its　ice　frame。
He　raced　along　empty　passageways；　sprang　down　a　flight　of　steps；　but　his　pursuer　remained
doggedly　on　his　heels。　Blonsky　could　hear　his　heavy　footsteps；　thump；　thump；　thumping　behind
him。　The　only　thing　that　kept　the　Chaos　Space　Marine　from　closing　the　gap　between　them　was　the
fact　that　the　Ice　Warrior　was　lighter；　more　lithe；　able　to　corner　more　efficiently　on　the　slippery；
uncarpeted　floors。
He　sped　past　two　shaken　cultists；　refugees　from　the　courtyard；　and　was　away　from　them　before
they　could　react　to　his　presence。　Next　time；　he　knew　he　might　not　be　so　lucky。　He　rounded　two
corners　in　quick　succession；　and　heard　a　great　crash　behind　him　as　the　Chaos　Space　Marine　lost
control　and　slammed　into　a　wall。　For　the　first　time；　Blonsky　had　a　few　seconds’　grace；　and　he　knew
he　couldn’t　wait　for　a　better　chance。　He　chose　a　door　at　random；　and　found　himself　in　a　banqueting
hall；　decorated　in　rich　shades　of　brown　and　red　with　tapestries　hanging　from　the　walls。
He　had　intended　to　find　a　hiding　place；　and　hope　that　the　Chaos　Space　Marine　went　past。　He　had
known　that　this　was　a　long　shot；　but　it　was　the　best　he　had　had。　He　got　lucky；　again。　There　were
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more　doors　out　of　the　room；　on　opposite　walls　at　its　far　end。　He　hurried　to　one　of　them；　and　was
turning　the　handle　as　the　main　door　was　smashed　open；　quivering　on　its　hinges。
The　Chaos　Space　Marine　leapt　into　the　room；　propelling　himself　over　the　table。　Blonsky　didn’t
wait　for　him　to　land。　He　raced　through　a　small　kitchen　and　out　into　another　passageway；　worried
that　he　was　starting　to　lose　his　bearings；　that　he　might　not　be　able　to　find　his　way　out。　As　if　that　was
the　worst　of　his　problems。
He　had　gained　some　distance　on　the　Chaos　Marine；　but　it　was　still　behind　him。　He　could　still
hear　its　footsteps。　It　just　kept　on　coming。
There　were　fewer　heretics　on　their　heels　than　Palinev　had　feared。
He　didn’t　stop　to　ask　why；　he　just　counted　his　blessings。　He　suspected　that　the　explosion　he　had
heard　a　moment　ago；　the　distinctive　burst　of　a　frag　grenade；　might　have　had　something　to　do　with　it。
He　didn’t　stop　to　wonder　what　had　happened　to　Pozhar；　why　he　hadn’t　followed　his　comrades　out　of
the　courtyard；　because　he　guessed　he　would　not　like　the　answer。
Anyway；　there　were　still　some　heretics　out　here　—　cultists　and　a　few　Traitor　Guardsmen　who
had　escaped　before　the　Ice　Warriors　had；　who　were　starting　to　regain　their　senses；　to　gather　and　to
talk；　and　to　look　for　the　threat　in　their　midst。
And　they　found　it。
“It’s　him！”　a　cultist　screamed；　pointing　at　Steele；　her　finger　trembling。　Then　her　eyes　turned　to
Confessor　Wollkenden；　still　unconscious；　slung　over　Grayle’s　shoulder。　“It’s　both　of　them。　The
sacrifices！　They’re　escaping　with　the　sacrifices！　They—”
Palinev　shot　her　through　the　head；　but　it　was　too　late。　More　cultists　were　coming　at　them　with
knives；　while　others　hung　back；　shouldering　lasguns。　They　must　have　looked　like　easy　pickings；
Steele　still　leaning　on　Palinev’s　shoulder；　Grayle　encumbered　by　Wollkenden。　But　Steele　was　not　as
helpless　as　he　seemed。　He　seized　two　incoming　cultists　by　their　robes；　smashed　their　heads　together；
thrust　them　into　the　path　of　the　first　las…beams。
Taking　advantage　of　their　temporary　human　shields；　the　Ice　Warriors　ducked　into　a　side
passageway　—　but　it　came　to　a　dead　end；　a　few　metres　along。
Steele　snatched　Grayle’s　lasgun　from　him　and　ordered　him　to　keep　back；　to　keep　Wollkenden
out　of　the　line　of　fire。　Palinev　was　already　strafing　the　corridor　behind　them；　discouraging　the
heretics　from　approaching；　forcing　them　to　run　for　cover。　As　his　power　pack　ran　dry；　Steele　took　his
place　and　continued　the　barrage。　Palinev　reloaded　and　was　able　to　relieve　the　colonel　in　turn。
“We　can’t　keep　this　up；”　Steele　grumbled。　“The　longer　we’re　pinned　down　here；　the　more
attention　we’ll　draw。　And　once　that　Chaos　Space　Marine　gets　wind　of　our　location…”　He　didn’t
have　to　complete　the　sentence。
“Can　we　burn　through　the　walls？”　asked　Palinev。
“I　doubt　it；”　said　Grayle。　“We　could　try；　but　remember　the　glacier；　remember　how　it　re…formed
around　the　Termite。”
Palinev　was　firing　into　an　empty　passageway。　He　eased　his　finger　off　the　trigger；　thinking　to
conserve　power　—　and　immediately；　four　Traitor　Guardsmen　rushed　his　position。　He　fired　in
concert　with　Steele；　counting　them　down；　one；　two；　three…　but　the　last　of　them　refused　to　fall。　It
just　kept　on　advancing。
The　fourth　traitor　had　hung　back；　using　his　fellows　as　cover　so　that　only　when　he　was　almost
upon　the　Ice　Warriors　did　they　have　a　clear　shot　at　him。　Their　beams　glanced　off　his　flak　jacket；
failing　to　score　that　critical　hit　—　and　Palinev　could　see　behind　the　traitor　the　shapes　of　more　of　his
kind　beginning　to　rise；　to　crane　forward；　ready　to　advance　as　soon　as　he　engaged　the　enemy。
They　were　to　be　disappointed。　The　traitor　staggered　up　to　the　corner；　raised　his　gun；　collapsed
and　died　at　Palinev’s　feet。
105
Steele　strafed　the　corridor　for　another　few　seconds；　then　turned　to　his　two　troopers。　“This　is　what
we’re　going　to　do；”　he　said。　“How　many　frag　grenades　do　you　have　left　between　you？　We’re　going
to　pitch　the　whole　damn　lot　of　them　out　there；　at　the　heretics；　bring　down　the　roof　if　we　can。　And
then　we’re　going　to　run　like　hell　in　the　other　direction。　Palinev；　you　must　know　where　we’re　going；
you　take　point。　Grayle；　behind　him；　with　Wollkenden。　I’ll　bring　up　the　rear；　lay　down　covering　fire；
make　sure　that　anyone　who　survives　the　explosion　doesn’t　dare　so　much　as　glance　after　us。”
“I　should　take　the　rear；　sir；”　said　Grayle。　“It’s　too　dangerous　for—”
“Those　are　my　orders；　trooper；”　interrupted　Steele。
“At　least　take　my　greatcoat。　Yours　is　in　shreds。　One　bull’s…eye　from　a　lasgun　and—”
Steele　shook　his　head。　'You　have　the　most　important　job　of　any　of　us。　I’m　not　strong　enough　yet
to　carry　the　confessor。　You　have　to　protect　him。　We　move　on　my　mark。　Three；　two；　one…　Palinev；
do　you　hear　that？”
Palinev　did　hear　it；　although　his　ears　were　a　second　behind　the　colonel’s。　“Gunfire；　sir。　To　the
right　of　us。　It　must　be　the　others。　They　had　to　come　this　way　too。　They　must　have　come　up　behind
the　heretics；　taken　them　by　surprise。”
Steele　considered　that　news　for　a　moment；　then　a　tight　smile　pulled　at　his　lips　and　he　hefted
Grayle’s　lasgun。　“In　that　case；”　he　said；　“change　of　plan。”
Anakora　had　known　it　wouldn’t　be　easy。　No　matter　how　much　confusion；　how　many　distractions；
the　Ice　Warriors　could　cause；　no　matter　how　good　their　disguises　nor　how　skilled　they　were；　she　had
not　expected　to　get　out　of　the　I