Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第7部分

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up　on　our　mission　just　yet。”
“No；”　said　Mikhaelev；　with　a　tight　smile；　“I　should　think　not。”
Anakora　was　starting　to　see　it　too；　he　thought。　She　was　looking　at　the　knots　of　red　and　gold
Guardsmen　around　them；　at　the　hope　in　their　faces　that；　having　been　lost　for　so　long；　they　might
have　been　found　again。
“They’ve　been　out　of　vox　contact　for　weeks；”　she　said。　“They　cannot　know　about　the
withdrawal；　about　the…　about　what　is　to　come　next。　They　don’t　know　that　it’s　already　too　late　for
them；　that　without　air　transport　they　have　no　hope　of　reaching　Alpha　Hive　in　time　to　evacuate。”
“So；　they’re　already　dead；”　said　Pozhar　with　a　shrug。　“All　the　more　reason　why　they　should　die
like　soldiers；　with　their　guns　blazing。”
“Anyone　want　to　bet　the　Validians　do　just　that？”　asked　Mikhaelev　quietly。
The　other　three　troopers　turned　to　look　at　him。
“Anakora　was　right；”　he　said。　“These　men　are　dead　anyway。　Frankly；　even　if　that　weren’t　the
case；　the　Imperium　sees　them；　sees　us　all；　as　expendable。　The　only　person　on　this　world　who　really
matters　is　Wollkenden；　and　we　are　the　only　people　who　can　save　Wollkenden。　So；　if　it　costs　the
Imperium　four　hundred　lives　to　preserve　our　ten…　well；　it’s　just　numbers；　right？”
“And　how；　my　friend；　might　the　sacrifice　of　those　four　hundred　lives　help　us？”　asked　Borscz。
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“Think　about　it；”　said　Mikhaelev。　“We　can’t　go　forward；　can’t　go　back。　There　is　one　other
option。　We　can’t　fight　our　way　through　the　Chaos　forces；　but　perhaps　we　can　go　around　them。　If　we
are　to　do　that；　though；　we　will　need　a　diversion…　a　big　one。”
Anakora　looked　pale；　shaken。　Her　gaze　was　pulled　again　to　the　surrounding　Validians；　but　she
turned　a　caught　her　eye。　She　seemed　almost　ashamed。　Pozhar；　in
contrast；　closed　his　eyes　and　let　out　a　groan　of　dismay。　Mikhaelev　guessed　that　he　would　have
swapped　regiments　in　a　second　for　a　chance　to　get　back　into　combat。
“You　want　to　know　what　our　leaders　are　talking　about　over　there；　Borscz？”　he　said　grimly。　“I’ll
lay　you　another　bet　if　you　like。　I’ll　bet　you　a　day’s　worth　of　dry　rations　that　Steele　is　asking　the
Validians　to　die　for　us。”
Mikhaelev　was　right；　of　course。
Anakora　prayed　he　wouldn’t　be；　that　Colonel　Steele　and　the　Validian　captain　might　have　found
another　way　between　them。　But　the　more　she　thought　about　it；　the　more　she　knew　that　Mikhaelev’s
way　was　the　only　way　that　made　sense。
The　officers　parted　company；　and　Steele　called　his　squad　to　him　for　a　short　briefing。　Anakora
hardly　listened　to　his　quiet　words。　She　knew　what　he　was　going　to　say；　anyway。　Her　eyes　wandered
instead　to　the　captain；　who　was　chairing　a　similar　meeting　with　his　sergeants；　fourteen　or　fifteen　of
them。　She　watched　as　they　received　the　news：　that　their　trials　of　the　past　few　weeks　had　been　for
nothing；　that　they　wouldn’t　make　it　home　after　all；　that　the　Emperor　required　only　one　final　service
from　them。　They　bore　it　stoically；　of　course；　but　Anakora　detected　a　few　wistful　expressions　and　a
few　slumped　shoulders；　as　the　sergeants　moved　out　to　spread　the　word　to　their　troopers。
Logically；　she　knew　she　had　no　reason　to　feel　guilty。　The　Validians　weren’t　really　sacrificing
themselves　for　her　sake；　nor　for　that　of　her　squad。　They　were　doing　it　for　Confessor　Wollkenden；　for
the　Ecclesiarchy；　for　the　Emperor。　Still；　she　couldn’t　help　but　ask　herself　why；　of　all　the　good
soldiers　here；　she　should　be　among　the　few；　the　very　few；　to　be　spared　—　why　this　was　starting　to
become　a　familiar　pattern　for　her。
If　the　Emperor　had　a　plan　for　her　—　and　it　seemed　that　He　must　—　if　He　was　keeping　her　alive
for　some　reason；　then　Anakora　just　wished　she　could　imagine　what　that　reason　might　be。
With　no　more　words　left　to　say；　the　regiments　went　their　separate　ways。
The　depleted　company　of　Validians　turned　back　the　way　they　had　come；　and　marched　to　meet
the　pursuers　from　whom　they　had　fought　so　hard　to　escape。　The　squad　of　Valhallans　headed　off　to
the　north…east；　planning　to　skirt　around　the　inevitable　battlefield　as　they　had　back　at　Alpha　Hive。　The
difference　was；　they　were　on　foot　this　time；　but　at　least　this　battlefield　would　be　smaller。
Steele　led　the　way。　He　had　an　unerring　sense　of　direction；　another　gift　of　his　augmetics；　but　still
he　paused　frequently　to　check　his　bearings　with　Palinev。　Gavotski　knew　that　the　colonel　would　be
watching　the　chrono；　calculating　the　cost　of　yet　another　diversion　from　their　planned　course。　Steele
had　been　tight…lipped　since　his　talk　with　the　captain　—　but　then；　this　was　hardly　unusual　for　him。
It　couldn’t　have　been　easy　for　him；　to　have　been　the　bearer　of　such　bad　news；　to　have　had　to　ask
a　fellow　commander　to　order　his　men　to　their　deaths。　It　had　still　been　just　a　few　days；　after　all；　since
the　same　had　been　asked　of　him。
Gavotski’s　thoughts　drifted　back　to　Alpha　Hive；　to　the　many　good　comrades　he　had　left　behind
there；　the　scores　of　men　alongside　whom　he　had　been　proud　to　fight　at　one　time　or　another。　He
wondered　how　many　of　them　were　still　fighting；　how　many　might　yet　make　it　onto　the　last　of　the
exodus　ships。　He　doubted　he　would　see　any　of　them　again。
Barreski；　at　least；　seemed　happy。　Somehow；　he　had　talked　one　of　the　Validians　into　giving　him
another　hand　flamer　—　and　with　Grayle’s　help；　he　was　stripping　it　down　on　the　move；　lovingly
cleaning　and　lubricating　its　components。
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Presently；　the　squad　bore　north　and　then　around　to　the　north…west　again；　until　they　had
completed　a　quarter…circle　and　were　on　a　path　parallel　to　the　one　they　had　been　on　before。　They　had
seen　and　heard　nothing　of　the　Validians　in　an　hour；　but　now　the　quiet　of　the　ice　forest　was
interrupted　by　a　series　of　distant　sounds：　the　usual　sounds；　the　ones　that　could　have　been　the
soundtrack　to　Gavotski’s　life；　to　all　of　their　lives。
Gunfire；　explosions；　screaming。　The　sounds　of　war。　The　sounds　of　four　hundred　good　men；
dying。
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CHAPTER　SEVEN
Time　to　Destruction　of　Cressida：　38。24。44
It　seemed　like　a　long　time　before　the　forest　fell　silent　again。
For　Steele；　of　course；　with　his　enhanced　hearing；　it　felt　like　even　longer。　This　was　a　good　thing；
he　told　himself。　It　meant　the　Validian　company　had　bought　him　more　time　than　he　could　have
expected　from　them。　It　meant　they　had　died　as　they　had　lived；　as　heroes；　and　no　Guardsman　could
want　any　more　from　his　life　than　that。
It　meant　that　he　had　done　the　right　thing　by　sacrificing　them。
Not　that　he　had　doubted　this；　not　any　longer。　Steele　had　reviewed　his　decision　six　times；　and　was
satisfied　that　he　had　overlooked　nothing。　Anyway；　he　had　Sergeant　Gavotski’s　support；　which　was
always　a　reliable　indicator。
The　Ice　Warriors　had　completed　their　half…circuit　of　the　battlefield。　They　were　behind　the　Chaos
forces；　whatever　remained　of　them；　back　on　course　for　the　confessor’s　crash　site。　Steele　just　prayed
that　their　enemies　would　take　some　time　to　lick　their　wounds；　before　turning　to　head　homeward。　Just
time　enough　for　his　squad　to　gain　a　safe　distance　from　them。
He　heard　the　approaching　mutants　a　full　six　seconds　before　he　saw　them。
They　were　making　no　attempt　to　be　quiet；　crashing　through　the　ice　forest　at　speed；　whimpering
and　howling。　They　must　have　fled　from　the　heat　of　the　battle；　thought　Steele。　They　couldn’t　have
known　that　the　Ice　Warriors　were　here　—　and　yet；　by　some　perverse　chance；　they　were　about　to　run
right　into　them。
He　hissed　a　warning　to　the　others；　telling　them　to　take　cover。　Although　they　couldn’t　have　seen
anything　themselves　yet；　they　didn’t　stop　to　ask　questions。　They　obeyed　their　colonel’s　order　with
varying　degrees　of　success。　Only　a　blind　man　could　have　failed　to　see　Borscz；　who　was　twice　as
broad　as　the　ice　tree　behind　which　he　attempted　to　hide。　Still；　thought　Steele；　if　the　mutants　were　in
the　throes　of　panic；　and　obviously　feeble…minded；　then　they　might　not　see　the　trap　before　it　was
sprung。
And　suddenly；　there　were　over　a　score　of　them；　appearing　in　the　gaps　between　the　trees；　their
manifest　and　varied　deformities　an　assault　to　Steele’s　eyes。　He　waited　until　they　got　closer；　even
closer…　and　then　one　of　the　mutants　came　scrambling　to　a　halt；　and　its　huge；　pink　eyes　widened；
staring　at　Borscz’s　protruding　stomach。　It　opened　its　mouth　to　squeal　a　warning…
…and　that　was　when　Steele　stepped　out　of　hiding　with　his　laspistol　levelled；　and　before　the
mutant　could　let　out　a　sound；　he　calmly　blew　a　hole　through　its　head。
The　rest　of　his　squad　were　quick　to　follow　his　lead。　Pozhar；　not　surprisingly；　was　the　first；　his
face　lit　up　by　a　broad　grin　as　he　pumped　las…beam　after　las…beam　into　his　confused　and　terrified
targets。　Barreski　took　his　time；　waiting　for　the　opportune　moment　to　wreak　maximum　damage　with
one　shot　from　his　new　flamer。　Three　mutants　were　engulfed　in　fire；　filling　the　air　with　the　stink　of
their　burning　flesh　and　the　sounds　of　their　screams。
“Don’t　let　any　of　them　get　away！”　Steele　yelled。
He　counted　four　mutants　on　the　periphery　of　the　group；　making　to　turn　back；　deciding　that　the
lesser　of　two　perils　was　the　one　that　lay　behind　them　after　all。　He　brought　down　a　hunchbacked；
tentacled　horror　with　a　shot　to　the　back。
The　other　three　mutants　fled；　and　were　out　of　sight　before　Steele　could　stop　them　—　but　an
instant　later　a　tremendous　bang　rent　the　air　and　a　cloud　of　shrapnel　billowed　out　from　the　trees
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where　they　had　vanished。　Barreski　had　tossed　a　frag　grenade　after　the　mutants　—　and；　although
Steele　winced　at　the　sound　that　had　almost　overloaded　the　acoustic　enhancers　in　his　right　ear；　he
couldn’t　deny　that　it　had　been　an　effective　tactic。
Was　there　any　hope；　he　wondered；　that　no　one　in　the　main　body　of　the　Chaos　force　had　heard　the
explosion；　that　the　ice　trees　might　have　deadened　its　sound　before　it　could　reach　them？　Perhaps；　at
least；　it　might　be　dismissed　as　the　work　of　a　lone　Validian　kamikaze；　or　even　a　dispute　between
undisciplined　mutant　stragglers。
So　long；　that　was；　as　none　of　the　mutants　lived　to　tell　a　different　tale。
In　focusing　on　the　would…be　deserters；　Steele　had　let　down　his　guard　against　the　more　immediate
threats　to　his　wellbeing。　He　heard　the　cocking　of　a　pistol；　and　turned　to　find　its　barrel　aimed　at　his
head　by　a　creature　that　looked　as　if　its　face　had　melted；　its　eyes　and　its　nose　running　towards　its
chin。
Before　the　mutant　could　fire；　Borscz　barrelled　into　its　side　and　threw　off　its　aim。　It　responded　by
swinging　its　gun　butt　at　the　burly　Ice　Warrior’s　jaw。　It　hit　with　a　resounding　crack；　but　Borscz　barely
seemed　to　feel　the　blow。　He　gripped　his　hapless　opponent　by　its　shoulders；　thrust　it　back　against　a
razor…edged　ice　tree。　The　mutant　screamed　and　thrashed　as　blood　gushed　out　of　its　back；　but　with　a
deep…throated　chuckle　and　a　flash　of　his　brilliant　white　teeth；　Borscz　pushed　its　chin　up　and　back
with　the　heel　of　his　hand。　The　tree　cut　through　the　mutant’s　misshapen　head；　bisecting　it　down　the
middle。
Three　more　of　its　kin　made　a　break　for　it；　but　two　ran　into　a　crossfire　of　las…beams　set　up　by
Gavotski　and　Anakora。　Palinev　went　racing　after　the　third；　with　his　knife　drawn。　Barreski　pressed
his　flamer　into　service　again；　and　Borscz；　who　had　been　about　to　pounce　on　another　mutant　when　it
combusted　in　his　face；　gave　a　yelp　of　protest　and　threw　his　hands　up　to　his　singed　beard。
Surprise　and　discipline　were　the　Ice　Warriors’　greatest　assets；　and　many　of　their　foes　were　cut
down　before　they　could　do　much　more　than　gibber。　Mikhaelev　in　particular　proved　to　be　an　expert
shot；　choosing　his　angles　well　so　that　a　single　one　of　his　las…beams　often　sliced　through　two　bodies。
The　closest　the　mutants　came　to　exhibiting　teamwork　was　when　four　of　them　tried　to　swarm
Blonsky。　Steele’s　pistol　finished　off　one　before　it　could　reach　its　target；　but　the　others　fell　upon　the
trooper。　Most　of　the　Ice　Warriors　held　their　fire　for　fear　of　hitting　a　comrade；　although　Steele　noted
that　Pozhar　was　the　exception。
He　drew　his　power　sword　and　activated　a　control　in　its　hilt；　causing　the　blade　to　flare　with　a
crackling　blue　energy。　He　stepped　up　behind　one　of　the　mutants　and　struck　with　all　the　strength　in
his　augmented　muscles；　severing　its　head　from　its　spinal　column。
Borscz　wrenched　a　third　mutant　from　its　victim；　while　Grayle　attempted　a　similar　manoeuvre
with　the　fourth；　but　found　that　it　was　stronger　than　he　was。　Nevertheless；　he　kept　it　occupied　long
enough　for　Blonsky　to　stand　and　to　thrust　his　bayonet　into　the　struggling　creature’s　guts。
And　then　the　fight　was　over；　there　were　no　more　mutants　standing；　and　Palinev　returned；　wiping
his　blade　with　a　cloth；　to　report　that　the　one　he　had　chased　was　also　dead。　The　Ice　Warriors　were　left
in　a　self…made　clearing；　but　the　ice　trees　that　Barreski’s　flamer　had　melted　were　already　beginning　to
grow　again。　Pozhar　leapt　as　a　new　shoot　sprouted　with　impossible　speed　beneath　him；　almost
impaling　his　foot。
Before　they　moved　on；　Steele　counted　the　bodies　to　confirm　that　all　the　mutants　he　had　seen
were　accounted　for。　Then　he　took　another　second　to　rerun　that　calculation；　four　more　times；　to　be
sure。
It　had　become　second　nature　for　him　to　do　this；　and　he　did　it　for　a　good　reason。　He　did　it　because
he　could　not　trust　his　own　mind。
Some　things；　he　remembered　too　well。
He　remembered　every　detail　of　his　time　in　the　hospital；　everything　they　had　done　to　him　there。
The　medics　had　rebuilt　one　side　of　Steele’s　head；　inserted　plates　into　his　skull；　and　grafted　foreign
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objects　onto　his　brain。　They　had　replaced　the　shattered　bones　in　his　right　shoulder　and　upper　arm
with　plasteel；　the　muscles　with　hydraulic　systems。
He　remembered　their　assurances　that　the　pain　would　be　worthwhile；　that　they　were　doing　the
best　they　could　for　him。　He　hadn’t　believed　them。　He　had　thought　it　more　likely　that　the　medics
were　just　pushing；　testing；　seeing　how　far　they　could　go。
Steele　could　remember　all　that；　but　he　couldn’t　remember　what　had　landed　him　in　that　Emperorforsaken
place　to　begin　with。　He　had　no　memory　of　Karnak；　the　world　to　which　his　service　records
told　him　he　had　been　posted　for　more　than　two　years。　He　did　not　know　who　his　comrades　had　been
on　that　world；　in　that　campaign；　which　of　the　Imperium’s　many　enemies　they　had　been　fighting；　or
what　his　orders　had　been　on　that　fateful　day。
He　had　no　idea　what　had　caused　the　explosion　that　had　gone　off　in　his　face。
He　couldn’t　remember　his　father’s　eyes；　nor　the　touch　of　the　girlfriend　he　had　left　behind　on
Valhalla　when　his　draft　papers　had　arrived。
Sometimes；　in　the　weeks　that　had　followed　his　discharge；　Steele　had　wished　that　the　medics　had
just　left　him　to　die。
He　was　aware　that　people　saan；　a　deep　thinker。　As　a　cold　man。　Some　were
jealous　of　his　augmetics；　of　the　feats　they　enabled　him　to　achieve。　Those　people　didn’t　know　the　real
Colonel　Stanislev　Steele。　They　didn’t　know　the　abiding　frustration　that　burnt　at　the　core　of　his　being。
He　could　hear　the　flapping　of　a　moth’s　wings　from　forty　paces　now；　detect　its　body　heat　from　a
hundred。　He　could　perform　complex　calculations　at　lightning　speed　—　or　rather；　a　small　part　of　his
brain　to　which　he　felt　little　connection　could　perform　them　and　offer　up　the　results　to　him。　He　had
near…perfect　recall；　and　could　store　tactical　maps　and　troop　movements　in　that　same　small　alien
corner　of　his　head。
Steele　had　heard　it　said　that　he　could　count　the　snowflakes　in　a　storm；　although　he　had　never
been　quite　bored　enough　to　try。
And　of　course　he　had　the　strength　of　three　men　in　his　right　arm　—　enough；　he　had　been　told；　to
slice　through　two　armoured　heretics　with　one　swing　of　his　power　sword。
It　must　have　sounded　amazing；　in　theory；　and　Steele’s　new…found　abilities　had　certainly　helped
him　to　rise　through　the　ranks。　But；　as　Trooper　Borscz　would　no　doubt　have　reminded　him；　Imperial
technology　wasn’t　always　reliable　—　and　far　less　so　in　conditions　like　these；　on　ice　worlds　such　as
Valhalla　and　the　world　that　Cressida　had　become。　Steele’s　eye；　his　acoustic　enhancers；　the　olfactory
sensors　in　his　nose；　even　his　right　shoulder；　they　were　all　prone　to　intermittent　failures。　They　could
let　him　down　at　any　moment。
And　so；　nine　years　after　he　had　been　reborn；　he　was　still　trying　to　work　out　what　the　medics
hadn’t　been　able　to　tell　him。　He　still　didn’t　know　which　of　his　thoughts　were　entirely　his　own；　and
which　had　been　influenced　by　the　augmetics　that　had　oh…so…subtly　insinuated　themselves　into　his
consciousness。　He　had　to　second…guess　his　every　instinct；　in　case　it　was　based　on　flawed
information。
He　couldn’t　tell　where　the　real　Stanislev　Steele　ended　and　the　augmetics　began。
They　were　nearing　the　edge　of　the　ice　forest；　at　last。
Steele　knew　this　because　his　augmetics　had　calculated　that　the　mean　distance　between　the　ice
trees　was　a　little　greater　than　it　had　been　a　few　minutes　ago。　He　quickened　his　pace；　knowing　that
his　squad　would　fall　into　step　beside　him　without　being　ordered　to　do　so。　There　had　been　no　signs
that　anyone　was　on　their　tail；　but　still　he　couldn’t　dismiss　that　possibility。
At　last　they　emerged　into　the　open；　and　Steele　could　see　that　the　others　were　as　happy　about　it　as
he　was。　Borscz　let　out　a　deep　groan　of　relief；　and　took　the　opportunity　to　stretch　his　arms　and　legs
and　work　out　the　cricks　in　his　neck。
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A　great；　snow…blanketed　field　stretched　ahead　of　them　—　and　in　the　distance　Steele　could　see　the
spires　and　towers　of　Iota　Hive。　They　had　made　good　time；　all　things　considered。　The　crash　site　was
only　a　few　more　kilometres　away；　and　the　going　looked　set　to　be　a　lot　easier　from　now　on。　The　open
terrain　would　bring　its　own　problems；　however。　The　Ice　Warriors’　bottle…green　greatcoats　would
stand　out　like　beacons　to　anyone　who　overlooked　the　field　from　any　number　of　surrounding　hills。
And　they　would　leave　tracks　in　the　grey　snow；　but　there　was　no　way　around　that。
Fortunately；　the　sky　was　beginning　to　darken。　Steele　considered　waiting　for　a　while；　until　the
night　had　drawn　in　completely；　but　he　concluded　that　the　risks　of　so　doing　outweighed　the
advantages。　His　internal　chrono　was　ticking　away；　impossible　to　ignore。　It　was　counting　down　the
seconds　to　the　end　of　this　world；　making　him　acutely　aware　of　the　passing　of　each　one。
It　was　only　when　Gavotski　had　a　quiet　word　in　his　ear　that　he　realised　how　hard　he　had　been
pushing　his　squad；　how　exhausting　the　ice　forest　had　been　for　them。　He　conceded　that　they　should
take　a　short　rest；　while　they　had　some　cover。　The　Ice　Warriors　set　themselves　down　on　the　ground；
broke　out　their　rations　and　their　water　bags；　and　relaxed　for　the　first　time　in　a　good　few　hours。
The　break　buoyed　their　spirits；　and　Mikhaelev　and　Grayle　were　soon　engrossed　in　a　conversation
about　the　relative　merits　of　Lightning　and　Thunderbolt　fighters。　Grayle　was　enthusing　about　the　time
he　had　got　his　hands　on　the　controls　of　one　of　the　latter；　during　a　short　secondment　to　the　Imperial
Navy。
Gavotski；　in　the　meantime；　was　reciting　old　war　stories　to　an　attentive　Pozhar　and　Palinev；　while
Barreski　and　Borscz　had　resumed　their　good…natured　bickering。
“I’ll　make　you　a　deal；”　said　Barreski。　“When　this　mission　is　over；　we　will　have　a　contest：　my
flamer　against　your　hands；　and　we　will　see　which　is　the　more　deadly。”
“Then　you　had　best　hope　your　flamer　does　not　jam；”　said　Borscz　cheerfully；　“or　run　out　fuel；　and
that　you　do　not　miss　with　your　first　shot；　because　one　is　al