Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第4部分

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lips。　Mikhaelev；　in　contrast；　held　himself　rigid；　contained；　and　betrayed　no　reaction　to　his　blessing　at
all。　Beside　him；　Anakora　reacted　to　the　priest’s　touch　with　a　little　shudder；　and　a　single　tear　dripped
from　her　down…turned　eyes。
Then　it　was　done　—　and；　with　a　final　nod　and　a　munificent　smile　in　Steele’s　direction；　the　priest
ambled　away。　The　colonel　took　a　deep　breath　as　his　moment　of　peace　ended　and　he　prepared　to　get
back　down　to　business。　He　nodded　at　his　sergeant；　to　indicate　that　it　was　time　—　and　Gavotski
stepped　forward；　cleared　his　throat　and　addressed　the　squad。
“You　may　have　heard　the　name　Confessor　Wollkenden；”　he　said。　“You　may　have　heard　that　he
came　here　to　Cressida　a　month　ago；　to　minister　to　its　people；　to　help　them　resist　the　corruption　of
their　world。　You　may　also　have　heard　that　the　confessor　is　one　of　the　finest　men　the　Imperium　has
bred。　It　is　thanks　in　part　to　his　leadership　that　the　war　in　the　Artemis　system　was　won。”
In　fact；　Steele　hadn’t　heard　Wollkenden’s　name　before　this　morning；　and　he　doubted　whether
Gavotski　had　either。　He　had　been　left　in　no　doubt；　however；　of　the　stock　placed　in　him　by　the
Ecclesiarchy；　that　they　considered　him　a　virtual　saint。
“Three　days　ago；”　Gavotski　continued；　“the　confessor　was　en　route　to　an　outlying　settlement　to
the　north　of　here；　intending　to　make　contact　with　a　group　of　loyalist　resisters。　His　shuttle　came　under
fire。　A　vox…message　from　its　pilot　confirmed　that　an　emergency　landing　had　been　made；　and　that
Confessor　Wollkenden　was　alive。　The　message　was　interrupted。　There　has　been　no　word　since　then。
The　area　in　which　the　confessor’s　ship　came　down　was　a　forest；　until　it　fell　to　Chaos　forces　three
and　a　half　years　ago。　Since　then；　of　course；　conditions　on　the　ground　have　changed　considerably。
Intelligence　is　sparse；　but　we　know　that　there　has　been　a　great　deal　of　glacial　activity　in　the　area；
which　has　rendered　much　of　it　almost　impassable…　Almost。”　At　this；　Gavotski　gave　the　Termite　a
proud　pat。
“Of　course；　it　is　possible　that　Confessor　Wollkenden　is　dead。　Our　job；　comrades；　is　to　find　out
for　sure；　and；　if　he　is　alive；　to　bring　him　back。　The　Imperial　Guard　cannot　spare　the　resources　for　a
full…scale　search　and　rescue　at　present　—　and　it　is　felt　anyway　that　a　stealthy　extraction　has　more
chance　of　success。　That　is　why　Colonel　Steele　and　I　are　taking　only　one　squad　through　the　glaciers；
and　it　is　why　each　of　you　has　been　chosen：　because　your　respective　commanders　tell　us　that　you　are
the　best　the　Valhallan　319th　has　to　offer。”
“Pardon　me；　sergeant；”　said　Trooper　Borscz；　“but　are　we　to　understand　that　Colonel　Steele　is　to
lead　this　mission？”
“That　is　correct；　soldier；”　said　Gavotski。　“You　have　a　problem　with　that？”
“No；　sergeant。”　In　fact；　Borscz　seemed　positively　enthused　by　the　idea；　and　he　looked　at　Steele
with　admiration　blazing　in　his　deep　blue　eyes。
The　colonel　cleared　his　throat；　and　said；　“There　is　one　thing　that　Sergeant　Gavotski　has　not　yet
mentioned。”　It　was　the　first　time　the　troopers　had　heard　his　voice；　and　each　of　them　became　visibly
more　attentive。　“You　are　aware；”　said　Steele；　“that　Cressida　is　being　evacuated。　What　you　have　not
been　told；　because　this　information　is　strictly　need…to…know；　is　that　an　Exterminatus　order　has　been
signed。”
Palinev　gave　an　audible　gasp；　but　the　others　absorbed　the　news　silently；　grimly。
“Naval　warships　are　on　their　way；”　said。　Steele。　“Cressida　will　be　virus…bombed　from　orbit；
completely　sterilised。　As　a　world　still　rich　in　mineral　resources；　it　is　hoped　that　some　day　it　can　be
recolonised。　Until　that　day—”
Gavotski　finished　the　thought　for　him。　“The　Chaos　forces　may　have　won　this　battle；”　he　said；
“but　they　will　not　live　long　to　enjoy　their　spoils。”
“All　of　which；”　said　Steele；　“means　that　we　have　a　deadline。　I　was　told　this　morning；　in　no
uncertain　terms；　that　the　virus　bombing　would　take　place　in　forty…eight　hours’　time；　whether　we；　or
indeed　Confessor　Wollkenden；　were　still　on　Cressida　or　not。　A　little　over　three　hours　has　passed
since　then。
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“Gentlemen　and　lady；　I　suggest　we　get　the　Termite　loaded　up。　The　chrono　is　already　ticking。”
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CHAPTER　FOUR
Time　to　Destruction　of　Cressida：　44。49。09
“You　should　not　have　come　back。”
The　passenger　compartment　was　raucous　with　the　roar　of　the　Termite’s　engine　and　with　the
chatter　of　ten　Ice　Warriors；　packed　together　in　the　confined　space；　getting　to　know　one　another；
assessing　each　other’s　strengths。　Still；　Blonsky’s　voice　cut　across　the　noise；　and　brought　the　chatter
to　a　halt。
“You　should　not　have　come　back；”　he　said　again；　and　his　angular　face　was　set　into　a　stony
scowl；　his　dark　green　eyes　piercing　his　victim。
Pozhar　had　been　telling　the　tale　of　how　he　had　found　himself　behind　enemy　lines；　and　of　his
heroic　return　—　although　privately；　Gavotski　thought　he　might　have　exaggerated　some　of　his　more
remarkable　feats。　The　young　trooper　was　cut　off　in　mid…flow；　and　he　didn’t　know　what　to　say；　he
just　gaped　at　his　accuser。
“Your　chances　of　survival　were　minimal；”　said　Blonsky；　“and　if　you　had　been　killed　it　would
have　been　by　a　shot　to　the　back：　a　senseless　death；　and　a　dishonourable　one　in　the　Emperor’s　eyes。
He　had　carried　you　to　the　enemy’s　heart。　Instead　of　thinking　of　your　own　survival；　you　should　have
used　your　chance　to　strike　at　that　heart。”
“But…　but　I　did　survive；”　said　Pozhar。　“I　survived；　and　I　brought　back　some　civilians；　and…
and　some　vital　information　about　troop　movements　in　the　underhive。”　He　stole　a　sidelong　glance　at
Steele；　presumably　to　see　if　he　agreed　with　Blonsky’s　assessment。　The　colonel’s　expression；
however；　remained　neutral。
“I　don’t　think　it’s　helpful　to　talk　about　what　might　have　been；”　Gavotski　said。　“As　Trooper
Pozhar　has　proved；　his　situation　wasn’t　hopeless。　He　was　able　to　come　back　to　us；　to　fight　another
day　in　the　Emperor’s　service。”
Emboldened　by　the　sergeant’s　support；　Pozhar　rounded　on　Blonsky；　and　said；　“Anyway；　how
long　do　you　think　I’d　have　lasted；　surrounded　by　traitors；　if　I’d　started　shooting？　How　many　do　you
think　I’d　have　taken　down？　Five？　Six？　I　killed　three　times　that　many　before　morning　rations；　and　I’ll
do　the　same　tomorrow；　and　the　next　day。　That’s　how　I　serve　the　Emperor！　How　about　you；　Trooper
Blonsky？　How　many　kills　have　you　claimed　today？　Do　you　really　want　to　talk　about　whose　life　is
the　more　valuable？”
Blonsky’s　stare　didn’t　waver。　“You　should　not　have　come　back；”　he　repeated　with　the
unshakeable　conviction　of　a　witch　hunter。
The　Termite　gave　a　judder；　and　Grayle；　seated　at　the　controls；　called　back　over　his　shoulder；
“We’ve　just　left　the　hive；　sir。　No　sighting　of　the　enemy　as　yet。”
“How　do　we　stand　on　that　escort？”　asked　Gavotski。
“Looks　like　we　can　expert　two　Chimeras　to　meet　us；”　said　Grayle。　“Still　waiting　for　a　vox　from
Ursa　Platoon　to　see　if　we　can　make　it　three。”
“You　clap　eyes　on　the　enemy；　Grayle；”　said　Barreski；　“you　just　point　me　in　their　direction。　I’ll
show　them　we　don’t　need　bodyguards！”　He　was　stationed　at　one　of　the　six　hull…mounted　flamers；
squinting　along　its　barrel；　making　minute　adjustments　to　its　sights。　His　enthusiasm　was　appreciated；
but　Gavotski　knew　that　the　Termite　was　not　built　for　combat。　It　didn’t　have　the　firepower。　That　was
why　they　had　left　the　hive　by　an　eastern　gate；　from　a　zone　relatively　untouched　by　the　battle　to　the
north。　For　the　first　leg　of　their　journey；　they　would　be　travelling　above　ground；　and　they　hoped　to
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avoid　the　battle　altogether。　Due　to　pressure　of　time；　however；　they　couldn’t　give　it　as　wide　a　berth　as
they　would　have　liked。
“If　we　do　come　under　attack；”　said　Borscz；　“I　would　rather　get　out　there　and　trust　to　the　strength
of　my　own　two　hands　than　suffocate　or　freeze　to　death　in　this　tin　can。”　He　did　look　uncomfortable；
his　massive　frame　sandwiched　between　Barreski　and　Anakora。　However；　as　one　of　the　first　troopers
into　the　Termite；　Borscz　appeared　to　have　chosen　his　seat　purposely　to　avoid　having　to　man　a
flamer。
“You　would　agree　with　me；　I　think；　my　friend；”　he　continued；　leaning　forward　to　give　Palinev　an
overly　familiar　pat　on　the　shoulder。　The　force　of　the　blow　almost　knocked　the　smaller；　slighter　man
to　the　floor。　“As　a　scout；　you　must　rely　on　your　own　abilities　to　stay　silent　and　hidden；　yes？　Not
much　use　to　you　inside　a　great　clunking　machine。”
“You　are　joking；　right？”　said　Barreski。　“Without　machines；　our　ancestors　would　never　have　won
the　Great　War。　It　was　machines　like　this　one　that　turned　the　tide；　and　allowed　them　to　drive　the
filthy　orks　from　our　world。”
“The　machines　would　have　been　little　use；”　Borscz　countered；　“without　good；　strong　men　inside
them。　It　is　not　in　the　machines　that　our　ancestors　found　the　will　to　defeat　the　invaders；　Trooper
Barreski；　but　rather　in　their　own　beating　hearts。”
Anakora　played　little　part　in　the　conversation。　She　had　introduced　herself　to　the　others；　given
accurate　but　short　answers　to　their　questions　about　her　war　record；　but　that　was　all。　She　was　acutely
aware　that　they　were　all　here　because　of　their　proven　expertise　in　their　fields。　She　had　no　right　to　sit
among　them。
Few　Valhallan　women　served　in　the　Imperial　Guard。　With　so　many　men　being　marched　off　to
war　and　so　few　returning；　they　had　the　vital　and　valued　task　of　replenishing　their　world’s　population；
of　birthing　and　raising　the　next　generation　of　Ice　Warriors。　This；　then；　was　the　life　Anakora　had
expected　to　live；　the　life　that　had　been　shot　to　pieces　by　a　few　cold　words　from　a　disinterested
medic。
It　had　taken　her　a　few　days　to　come　to　terms　with　the　news；　to　accept　that　her　life　had　no　purpose
any　longer。　Even　one…time　friends；　even　family；　had　looked　at　her　with　contempt；　seeing　her　as　a
burden；　a　drain　on　their　society。　But　far　worse　than　that　were　those　few　who　did　understand；　and
whose　looks　were　laced　with　pity。
There　had　been　no　compulsion　on　Anakora　to　join　up；　not　ostensibly。　But　she　had　soon　seen　that
she　had　no　choice。　The　worst　sin　you　could　commit　as　an　Imperial　citizen　was　to　serve　the　Emperor
to　less　than　your　full　ability；　and　there　was　only　one　way　left　in　which　she　could　serve。
She　had　expected　to　find　basic　training　a　struggle。　She　had　just　kept　her　head　down　and　tried　to
get　through　it；　her　only　goal　not　to　embarrass　herself　beside　men　who　had　spent　their　lives　in
preparation　for　this。　She　had　worked　hard；　steeled　herself　to　appear　as　tough　and　as　stoic　as　any　of
them；　and　no　one　could　have　been　more　surprised　than　Anakora　when　she　had　passed　out　with
honours。
Still；　she　had　felt　she　was　faking　it；　bluffing　her　way　through　a　world　in　which　she　did　not
belong；　and　she　had　known　that　her　first　battlefield　would　find　her　out。　Fifteen　hours；　that　was　the
average　life　expectancy　of　an　Imperial　Guardsmen；　though　for　an　Ice　Warrior　it　was　a　little　more；
maybe　seventeen。　Anakora　didn’t　expect　to　last　that　long；　but　if　she　could　claim　just　one　kill；　take
one　heretic　down　with　her；　then　she　would　have　balanced　the　scales　and　justified　her　fleeting
existence。
Four　years　later；　she　was　still　here；　and　she　didn’t　know　why。
She　should　have　died　on　that　first　battlefield。　She　should　have　died　in　the　underhive；　a　couple　of
hours　ago。　She　should　have　died　so　many　times；　on　so　many　worlds　—　but　most　of　all；　she　should
have　died　two　and　a　half　years　ago；　on　Astaroth　Prime。
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Astaroth　Prime…　A　hellhole　of　a　world；　with　lakes　of　fire　and　molten　rivers；　a　world　on　which
no　Guardsman　accustomed　to　the　sub…zero　temperatures　of　Valhalla　should　ever　have　set　foot；　a
world　to　which　a　company　of　Ice　Warriors　had　been　sent　anyway；　to　deal　with　an　incursion　by　their
oldest　enemies；　the　orks；　a　world　on　which　that　company　of　Ice　Warriors　had　been　massacred。
In　her　brightest　hours；　Anakora　tried　to　imagine　that　she　had　been　spared　for　a　reason；　that　the
Emperor　had　had　a　higher　purpose　in　mind　for　her。　In　her　darkest；　she　forever　relived　that　moment
when　a　fellow　trooper；　a　good　comrade；　had　thrown　himself　in　the　path　of　an　ork　axe　to　save　her。
Her　record　showed　that　she　was　a　survivor；　and　in　the　Imperial　Guard　that　ability　was　as　highly
prized　as　it　was　rare。　Anakora　knew　the　truth。　She　knew　that　she　had　not　survived　so　long　through
her　own　efforts。　She　had　survived　because　someone　had　taken　pity　on　her；　had　thought　her　in　need
of　protection。
So；　now　she　had　been　pulled　from　another　suicide　mission　and　given　this　chance　to　survive
again；　precisely　because　of　her　record　thus　far。　She　couldn’t　help　but　wonder　if　this　might　be　the
time　her　luck　ran　out　at　last；　the　time　that　everyone　would　see　through　her。
Anakora　looked　forward　to　the　release　of　death。　Her　only　fear　was　that；　when　she　died；　she
would　take　the　rest　of　her　new　squad　with　her。
Mikhaelev　joined　in　with　the　general　chatter。　He　concurred　with　his　new　comrades　that　the　Chaos
forces　didn’t　know　what　was　about　to　hit　them；　that　Confessor　Wollkenden　was　as　good　as　rescued。
He　kept　his　true　feelings　to　himself。
He　was　worried。　Behind　the　false　bravado；　he　thought；　they　all　were。　Well；　perhaps　not　Pozhar
or　Borscz　—　they　both　seemed　like　the　kind　of　Guardsmen　who　lived　only　to　die；　the　perfect
brainwashed　soldiers。　It　would　not　have　occurred　to　them　to　question　their　orders；　to　wonder　if　their
lives　might　have　been　put　to　better　use。
Mikhaelev　asked　himself　those　questions。　He　stewed　over　the　details　of　his　briefing；　the　logic　of
staking　ten　lives　on　the　faint　chance　of　saving　just　one。　If　Confessor　Wollkenden　was　so　important；
why　did　the　Inquisition　care　so　little　about　him？　Why　couldn’t　the　virus　bombing　they　had
authorised　be　delayed　a　few　days　for　his　sake？
He　couldn’t　speak　out；　of　course。　Even　if　some　of　the　others；　these　relative　strangers；　agreed
with　him；　they　would　not　dare　to　confess　to　it。　No；　the　floor　would　be　held　by　the　likes　of　Blonsky；
spewing　his　accusations；　insisting　that　to　doubt　one’s　leaders；　even　if　they　were　only　men；　was　to
doubt　the　Emperor。　Just　as　those　same　leaders　would　want　him　to　think。
Not　that　Blonsky　would　hear　him；　of　course。　No；　as　soon　as　he　opened　his　mouth；　he　knew　that
Steele　or　Gavotski　would　do　their　duty　and　shoot　him　dead。
So；　he　kept　his　own　counsel；　said　what　he　was　expected　to　say；　and　did　what　he　was　told　as　if　he
was　the　perfect　brainwashed　soldier　too。　And　the　fact　that　he　was　here；　in　this　Termite；　in　this　squad；
was　proof　that　he　had　played　that　part　supremely　well。
He　did　all　this　because　he　knew　there　was　just　one　thing；　one　choice　he　could　make；　that　would
prove　more　dangerous　than　serving　the　Imperium…　and　that　was　not　serving　it。
The　Termite　was　under　attack；　being　buffeted　by　shock　waves。　If　he　tuned　out　the　deafening　sound
of　its　engines；　Steele　could　identify　the　crump　of　explosive　shells　from　without；　of　the　sort　fired　by　a
Basilisk　or　a　Bombard。
“We　have　a　problem；　sir；”　Grayle　yelled　from　the　controls。　“We’re　in　the　sights　of　something…
long…range　artillery。　It’s　decided　to　take　a　few　pot　shots。　Thing　is；　it　has　good　cover。　The　Chimeras
can’t　see　to　return　fire。　The　captain　of　one　is　requesting　your　permission　to　break　formation；　to　go
after　it。”
“Denied；”　said　Steele。　“Do　what　you　can；　Grayle。　Find　us　cover；　get　out　of　firing　range。　Do　not；
I　repeat　do　not；　engage　with　the　enemy。”
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“Aye；　sir；”　Grayle　answered。　The　Termite　made　a　sharp　right　turn；　sharper　than　Steele　would
have　thought　possible。　He　was　sure　that；　for　an　instant；　its　left…hand　track　had　left　the　ground。
“We　need　a　smoke　launcher　on　this　thing；”　opined　Barreski。　“Do　we　at　least　have　smoke
grenades；　something　we　can　lob　out　through　the　flamer　emplacements？”
“We　are　sitting　ducks　in　here；”　Borscz　fretted。　“If　we　were　out　in　the　field；　ten　smaller；　fastermoving
targets；　that　machine　could　never　get　a　bead　on　us。”
At　that　moment；　a　tremendous　concussive　force　slammed　through　the　Termite’s　chassis；　from　its
back　left　corner。　A　direct　hit。　It　felt　as　if　a　tank　had　rammed　them　from　behind；　and　only　the　fact　that
the　Ice　Warriors　were　so　tightly　wedged　into　their　seats　saved　Steele　from　being　thrown　into
Grayle’s　back。
Grayle　muttered　a　prayer　as　the　engine　coughed；　spluttered；　whined；　and　then　roared　back　into
full　throat。　The　Termite’s　suspension　was　shot。　It　felt　as　if　it　was　shaking　itself　apart；　and　the
passenger　compartment　was　filled　with　smoke。
“Palinev；　Mikhaelev；”　said　Gavotski；　“go　through　the　equipment　lockers；　see　if　you　can　whip　up
a　smokescreen　as　Barreski　suggested。　Barreski；　I　need　you　to　check　the　borer；　make　sure　it　still
functions。　Grayle…”
“I　know；　sergeant；”　said　Grayle。　“Get　us　the　hell　out　of　here！”
No　one　needed　to　say　what　every　one　of　the　ten　Ice　Warriors　present　was　thinking：　that　they
couldn’t　take　a　second　hit　like　that　one。
Steele　watched　as　they　jumped　to　their　assigned　tasks。　He　had　no　need　to　intervene；　trusting
Gavotski　to　handle　the　situation。　So；　he　took　the　opportunity　to　observe　how　each　member　of　his
new　squad　responded　to　pressure。　The　more　he　could　learn　about　them；　the　more　effectively　he
could　lead　them；　and　official　records　could　only　tell　him　so　much。
There　was　something　about　Mikhaelev’s　body　language；　for　example　—　the　slump　of　his
shoulders　—　that　said　his　heart　wasn’t　truly　in　this　mission；　that　perhaps　he　was　just　going　through
the　motions。　That　hadn’t　come　across　at　all　in　his　records；　and　it　was　a　cause　for　concern。　Pozhar；
thought　Steele；　would　bear　watching　too；　although；　in　his　case；　the　reports　of　his　commanders　had
been　perfectly　clear。
Pozhar　was　a　loose　cannon。　He　was　loyal　to　the　Emperor；　fervently　so；　but　he　appeared　to　have
no　concept　of　his　own　limitations。　Send　him　up　against　a　tyranid　army　and；　unless　given　specific
instructions　to　the　contrary；　he　would　be　the　one　to　seek　out　the　Hive　Tyrant　and　to　spit　in　its　eye。
On　a　mission　like　this　one；　that　sort　of　overconfidence　could　be　the　death　of　everyone。
Pozhar　was　here　because　Gavotski　had　vouched　for　him。　He　had　been　the　young　trooper’s　squad
commander　once；　and　had　averred　that　he　was　one　of　the　most　skilled　close…quarters　combatants　he
had　ever　seen。　Gavotski　had　also　sworn　that　he　could　handle　Pozhar’s　rough　edges　and　get　the　best
out　of　him；　and　Steele　had　learned　that　his　experienced　sergeant　was　seldom　wrong。
If　Pozhar　was　overconfident；　then　Anakora　had　the　opposite　problem。　She　had　come　with　the
highest　recommendations　of　any　of　them；　but　Steele　had　already　seen　enough　to　know　that　she
lacked　the　faith　in　herself　that　others　seemed　to　have　in　her。　He　felt　that　he；　of　all　people；　could
identify　with　that。
Then　there　was　Blonsky；　a　trooper　in　whom　a　succession　of　commanders　had　been　unable　to
find　fault；　and　yet　they　had　couched　their　reports　in　terms　that　suggested　they　were　more　than　happy
to　have　seen　the　back　of　him。
Blonsky　had　summarily　executed　at　least　six　comrades　in　combat；　accusing　them　of　heresy。　He
had　made　three　similar　accusations　against　superior　officers；　one　of　them　a　general　no　less。　On　the
surface　of　it；　his　actions　had　always　seemed　justified　—　but　reading　between　the　lines；　Steele　had
noted　that　his　commanders　considered　him　a　liability；　and　a　dangerous　man　to　be　around。
Blonsky　had　been　one　of　Steele　and　Gavotski’s　reserve　choices　for　their　squad。　Gavotski　had
pointed　out；　quite　reasona