Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第21部分

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“None　of　you；”　Steele　ordered；　“are　to　leave　this　ship　under　any　circumstances。　Give　me　as
much　time　as　you　can　—　but　as　soon　as　it　looks　as　if　the　heretics　might　board；　you　get　up　to　that
cockpit　and　you　tell　Grayle　to　lift　off；　whether　Wollkenden　and　I　have　returned　or　not。　Is　that
understood；　sergeant？”
He　didn’t　wait　for　an　answer。
He　was　out　in　the　open　again；　cursing　himself　for　not　having　foreseen　this；　for　not　having
detailed　more　men　to　watch　Wollkenden　—　for　not　having　heard　as　the　confessor　had　knocked　out
Palinev　and　escaped　behind　his　back。　It　must　have　happened；　he　thought；　while　he　was　underneath
the　ship；　occupied　with　the　mutant。
The　heretics　were　just　realising　that　the　lander　was　no　longer　defended；　just　starting　to　close　in。
They　reacted　to　Steele’s　sudden　reappearance　—　too　slowly。　Steele　reasoned　that　Wollkenden　would
have　made　for　the　nearest　cover。　He　saw　a　line　of　man…sized；　metal…framed　packing　crates；　and　he
leapt　behind　them　as　the　first　las…beams　stabbed　out　behind　him。
His　acoustic　enhancers　led　him　straight　to　the　confessor；　who　was　sitting　behind　the　crates；
whimpering　into　his　hands。　He　seized　Wollkenden　by　the　front　of　his　robes；　hauled　him　to　his　feet。
“I’m　sorry　I　don’t　have　time　to　show　you　all　due　respect；　sir；　but　this　is　the　situation：　you　are
boarding　that　ship　with　me　—　and　I　would　rather　you　did　so　willingly；　because　if　I　have　to　carry　you
it　will　probably　get　us　both　killed；　but　I　will　knock　you　out　again　if　I　have　to。　Which　is　it　to　be？”
ed　out　of　his　grasp　and　ran　for　it。　Steele　caught　him　before　he　could　take　two
steps；　and　slammed　him　into　a　crate　hard　enough　to　splinter　one　of　its　wooden　panels。　“Get　your
hands　off　me！”　Wollkenden　gasped；　winded。　“You’re　just　like　the　rest　of　them；　telling　me　what　to
do。　He　was　right　all　along；　with　his　words…　Let　me　go；　I　want　to　go　to　him！”
“You’re　confused；”　said　Steele。　“You　don’t　know　what　you’re　saying。　I　need　you　to　trust　me；
confessor。　I　need　you　to　do　as　I　say；　just　for　a　few—”
A　Traitor　Guardsman；　bolder　than　Steele　had　expected；　stepped　into　view。　His　lasgun　was
readied；　but　he　didn’t　fire。　Perhaps　he　was　out　of　power；　or　the　gun　had　simply　jammed。　Steele
didn’t　stop　to　question　his　good　fortune。　He　bundled　Wollkenden　into　the　narrow　space　between　two
crates　and　started　firing　himself。　The　traitor　leapt　back　into　cover；　but　Steele　could　hear　footsteps
running　to　join　him。
He　cursed　under　his　breath。　Wollkenden　had　delayed　him　too　long。　Their　way　back　to　the　lander
was　blocked；　and　the　heretics　were　moving　to　surround　them。　They　couldn’t　stay　where　they　were。
But　there　was　nowhere　to　run；　nowhere　that　didn’t　involve　breaking　cover　and　making　themselves
easy　targets。
If　Steele　had　been　alone；　he　could　have　hauled　himself　up　onto　one　of　the　crates；　got　the　drop　on
his　foes　from　up　there　—　but　he　doubted　Wollkenden　could　make　the　climb　even　if　he　was　willing
to　try。
Wollkenden…　Suddenly；　it　occurred　to　Steele　that　his　presence　might　be　his　greatest　asset；　that
that　traitor’s　gun　might　not　have　jammed　after　all。
He　turned　on　the　confessor；　spun　him　around。　He　yanked　his　arm　up　behind　his　back；　slipped　his
arm　around　Wollkenden’s　throat　and　pulled　tight　to　choke　his　words　of　protest。　“Sorry　about　this；
sir；”　he　muttered；　“but　needs　must；　and　this　is　the　only　way　I　can　think　of　to　keep　you　alive。”
He　pushed　Wollkenden　ahead　of　him；　stepped　out　from　behind　the　crate；　found　himself　facing　a
score　of　armed　traitors…
…and　was　relieved　to　find　that　his　hunch　had　been　right。　The　traitors　kept　him　covered　with
their　guns；　but　didn’t　dare　fire；　couldn’t　risk　hitting　his　hostage。　Evidently；　they　had　been　ordered　to
retake　Wollkenden；　their　offering　to　their　gods；　alive。　It　occurred　to　Steele　that　those　same　orders
might　apply　to　him　too　—　until　Wollkenden’s　legs　gave　way　and　he　sagged　in　the　colonel’s　grip；
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and　one　of　the　traitors　fired　a　las…beam；　tried　to　hit　Steele　over　the　confessor’s　head　and　only　missed
him　by　a　whisker。
“I　wouldn’t　try　that　again；”　Steele　snarled。　“Even　if　you　could　hit　me；　I　could　snap　Wollkenden’s
neck　as　I　went　down。　And　I　swear　this　by　the　Emperor’s　name；　I　will　do　it。　I　will　see　him　dead；
rather　than　let　Mangellan　have　him。”
“Don’t　speak　that　name；”　spat　one　of　the　traitors。　“Mangellan　is　dead。　He　failed　our　gods　and　has
paid　the　price　for　it。　Furst　is　our　high　priest　now。”
“Then　you’re　in　more　trouble　than　I　thought；”　said　Steele。
He　was　inching　his　way　around　them；　keeping　his　back　to　the　crates　so　that　no　one　could　come
up　behind　him　—　and　he　could　see　it　now；　the　lander；　his　goal。　Its　engines　were　still　ticking　over；　ice
melting　and　dripping　from　its　hull。
And　it　was　under　attack。
The　ship　had　been　rushed　by　mutants　and　spawn　—　and　Steele　could　see　Barreski　and　Anakora
in　the　hatchway；　fighting　to　keep　it　clear；　to　keep　the　creatures　away　from　it　—　a　losing　battle。
As　he　watched；　one　muscular　mutant　landed　a　blow　to　Barreski’s　head；　send　him　reeling　back
into　the　ship；　out　of　sight　—　and　then　it　disappeared　inside　after　him。　Anakora　had　to　fall　back　as
two　more　creatures　forced　their　way　on　board。　And　there　were　more　of　them；　jostling　each　other；
knocking　each　other　off　the　loading　ramp　in　their　haste　to　follow。　In　a　few　seconds’　time；　the　Ice
Warriors　would　be　overwhelmed；　the　ship　taken。　Unless…
The　pitch　of　the　engines　changed；　the　sound　building　to　a　deafening　shriek；　and　the　lander　begin
to　haul　itself　into　the　air。
For　a　moment；　all　eyes　were　off　Steele　and　Wollkenden；　but　Steele　couldn’t　take　advantage　of
this　distraction　—　because　he　was　staring　too；　watching　as　his　last　hope　of　survival；　of　completing
his　mission；　rose　out　of　his　reach。
The　lander　rotated　clumsily；　orienting　itself　towards　the　exit　hatches。　The　few　mutants　that　had
clung　to　its　landing　ramp　were　shaken　free　and　dashed　to　the　floor。　Another　was　wedged　in　the　open
hatchway　—　but　as　Steele　watched；　this　too　was　thrown　clear　by　a　volley　of　las…fire　from　inside　the
ship。　It　gave　him　some　satisfaction　to　know　that　his　squad　was　still　fighting　in　there。
And　then　another　hatchway　slid　open　—　in　the　belly　of　the　lander；　this　time　—　and　something
was　tossed　out：　a　coiled　something　that　rolled　and　unfurled　as　it　fell；　something　that　told　Steele　that
his　men　were　still　fighting　for　more　than　themselves。
He　raced　around　the　still…gaping　traitors；　somehow　finding　the　strength　to　lift　Wollkenden　off　his
feet；　to　carry　him。　He　leapt　for　the　trailing　ladder；　and　caught　it　with　his　left　hand。
That　was　when　the　firing　started；　the　traitors　no　doubt　reasoning　that　Furst　would　prefer
Wollkenden　dead　than　escaped。　A　las…beam　glanced　off　Steele’s　shoulder；　only　part　of　its　force
absorbed　by　the　ragged　remains　of　his　armoured　greatcoat；　and　he　clenched　his　teeth　against　the
searing　pain　and　forced　himself　to　hold　on；　although　he　couldn’t　feel　his　fingers　any　longer。
The　ship　lined　itself　up　with　an　exit　hatch；　shot　forwards；　and　the　sudden　acceleration　almost
yanked　Steele’s　numbed　left　arm　out　of　its　socket。　His　right　hand　was　still　fastened　around
Wollkenden’s　arm；　the　confessor　reaching　but　unable　to　establish　a　grip　on　the　ladder　for　himself。
Then　the　lander’s　hull　scraped　the　hatchway；　showering　them　both　with　sparks　—　a　sign　of　Grayle’s
piloting　inexperience　—　and　the　ground　dropped　away　beneath　them；　and　Wollkenden　fell…
Steele　caught　his　hand；　felt　the　augmetics　in　his　right　shoulder　whirring　and　straining　to　arrest
the　confessor’s　plunge。
They　were　soaring　above　fields　of　snow　now；　above　glaciers；　high　enough　to　see　the　burning
spires　of　Alpha　Hive　towards　the　horizon；　to　trace　the　whole　of　the　Ice　Warriors’　journey　from　there
to　here。　And　Wollkenden’s　legs　were　flailing；　pedalling　at　the　air；　and　his　face　was　white；　his　eyes
bulging　with　fear。
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Five　minutes。　That　was　all　the　time　they　had；　according　to　Steele’s　internal　chrono。　Five　minutes
before　the　virus　bombs　dropped。　Five　minutes　for　Grayle　to　reach　escape　velocity　and　leave　this
doomed　world　behind。　And　before　he　could　do　so；　Steele　and　Wollkenden　had　to　climb　that　ladder。
Looking　up；　Steele　could　see　Gavotski　peering　through　the　aperture　in　the　lander’s　belly；　calling
to　him；　his　words　whipped　away　by　a　howling；　freezing　wind。
The　ladder　was　buffeted　in　that　wind；　and　it　was　all　Steele　could　do　to　hang　on　to　it。　He　couldn’t
get　his　feet　to　it；　couldn’t　do　anything　without　letting　go　of　Wollkenden。
Maybe；　just　maybe；　he　thought；　if　he　could　persuade　his　passenger　to　hang　on　to　him；　to　free　up
his　right　arm；　he　could　haul　them　both　up。　He　screamed　instructions　at　the　confessor；　but　they　didn’t
seem　to　get　through。
And　Wollkenden　was　screaming　back　at　him；　and　Steele　tuned　his　enhanced　ear　in　to　his　voice；
and　he　heard；　“…me　go；　damn　you。　I　don’t　want　to　go　back　to　your　shackles；　be　a　slave　to　your
Emperor。　Mangellan　promised　me　I　could　be　free。　He　promised　me…”
And　suddenly；　it　all　made　sense：　why　the　Ecclesiarchy　had　appeared　so　keen　to　retrieve　their
confessor；　keen　enough　to　have　his　would…be　rescuers　sanctified；　and　yet　the　virus　bombing　couldn’t
be　delayed　for　him；　why　the　fate　of　such　a　dignitary　had　been　left　in　the　hands　of　a　mere　ten　men。
Not　that　Steele　had　ever　questioned　those　orders；　of　course；　but　he　had　wondered…
“A　virtual　saint。”　That　was　what　he　had　been　told　about　Wollkenden。　A　man　who；　through
words　and　faith　alone；　had　inspired　great　deeds。　A　man　who　could　turn　the　tides　of　war；　whose　name
was　fast　becoming　legend。　So；　the　Ecclesiarchy　could　hardly　have　turned　their　backs　on　him；　could
they？　Even　if　they　had　known…
Mangellan　had　known。　He　had　delighted　in　telling　Steele；　gloating　about　it；　only　Steele　had
refused　to　listen。　He　had　no　choice　now。
The　legend　was　a　lie。　The　man　for　whom　he　had　come　so　far；　risked　so　much；　was　just　an
ordinary　man　after　all：　a　man　touched　by　Chaos。　Wollkenden　had　been　tested；　and　he　had　failed　that
test。　His　mind　had　been　forever　warped。
Steele　had　never　had　a　chance　to　succeed　in　his　mission。　He　had　never　been　meant　to　succeed　in
it。　Wollkenden　could　not　be　saved。
In　the　end；　it　was　easier　than　he　had　expected。　He　didn’t　even　have　to　try。　He　just　had　to　relax　his
fingers；　just　a　little。
And　then　it　was　done；　and　Confessor　Wollkenden　was　plunging　away　from　him　—　and　he　felt
his　heart　lurch　at　the　sheer　speed　of　it　all；　at　the　suddenness　with　which　it　had　become　too　late　to
turn　back；　to　regret。
He　had　done　the　right　thing。　Steele　knew　this　with　a　certainty　that　he　had　seldom　before
experienced。　He　knew　it　not　just　because　his　enhanced　brain　told　him　it　was　true；　but　because　he
could　feel　it。　He　had　done　what　the　Emperor　would　have　wanted　him　to　do；　what　the　Ecclesiarchy
could　never　have　asked　of　him。
And　Wollkenden　was　shrinking　beneath　him　now；　dwarfed　by　the　white　expanse　that　awaited
him　below；　but　Steele　did　not　wish　to　see　that。　He　turned　away；　reached　up　and　caught　the　next　rung
of　the　ladder　with　his　right　hand。　And；　wearily；　he　pulled　himself　up　that…ladder；　to　the　lander；　to　his
comrades；　to　safety。
Colonel　Stanislev　Steele　stood　silently　in　the　lander’s　cockpit　and　looked　down　on　the　bleak；　white
globe　of　Cressida　through　the　forward　screen。
It　looked　the　same　as　it　had　when　he　had　first　been　posted　to　it。　He　only　knew　that　it　wasn’t
because　his　internal　chrono　had　completed　its　countdown。　Cressida　was　a　dead　world　now；　no　man
would　touch　its　soil　again　during　his　lifetime。
The　rest　of　his　squad　—　Gavotski；　Anakora；　Barreski；　Mikhaelev；　Grayle；　Palinev　—　had　all
made　it。　They　had　survived　the　mutants’　attack　on　their　ship。　They　had　contacted　an　Imperial
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Cruiser；　and　were　waiting　to　be　picked　up。　He　was　fiercely　proud　of　all　of　them；　although　they　did
not　feel　that　pride　in　themselves。
They　had　failed　in　their　mission；　fallen　at　the　last　hurdle　—　or　so　they　thought。
He　wished　he　could　tell　them　the　truth　—　tell　them　that；　in　the　end；　one　man’s　life　did　not　matter
after　all。　What　mattered　was　his　legend　—　and　today；　the　Ice　Warriors　had　safeguarded　one　such
legend；　ensured　that　it　would　inspire　more　great　deeds　yet。
Colonel　Steele’s　report　would　state　that　Confessor　Wollkenden　had　died　a　hero。



　　　　　　　　　　　（The　End）



。　…　。………【gzbysh】整理