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Death World(科幻战争)-第26部分

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That creeping realisation that the world around him didn’t bow to the edicts of nature; to the
physical laws he had thought inviolable。 The feeling that nothing made much sense anymore。
“It couldn’t have been Steel Toe;” Woods had insisted; in the aftermath of the brief fight with
the monster; manifestly ignoring the proof that had been there for all to see; in Greiss’ hand。 “I don’t
care what happened to him; what this planet did to him; he wouldn’t have… He wouldn’t have。 Not
Steel Toe。”
“Sorry; Hotshot。” Greiss had said gloomily; “we have to face facts。 I’d recognise this hunk o’
metal anywhere。 See under the dirt here? Scorch marks from where Steel Toe was bitten by that
critter on Vortis。 It shorted the circuits; sent a lethal shock across its own mandibles。 Steel Toe
couldn’t walk for a fortnight; till we got the leg fixed; but he saved our bacon that day。”
“It wasn’t him;” said Donovits firmly。 “It may have been his body; but it wasn’t Steel Toe。 He’s
dead!”
Myers had rubbed his chin where the mud…encrusted monster had hit him。 “Well; he was sure
taking a long time to lie down。”
“Brains is right;” said Muldoon。 “What we just fought wasn’t Steel Toe。 It wasn’t alive。 It was
some kind of a zombie。 I looked into its eyes—and I’m telling you; Steel Toe wasn’t in there。”
Greiss; as usual; had turned the topic to the future; to what they did next; not letting his troopers
dwell on what they couldn’t explain。 “Right; men;” he had announced; “that means we have a
problem。”
“I can’t see that thing coming back; sergeant;” said Myers; “not minus its leg。”
“Not what I meant; Bullseye。 There’s something on this planet can bring the dead back to life。”
“Not exactly bring them back。” Donovits had corrected him; “just reanimate them。 Without
getting a closer look at Steel Toe’s body; I couldn’t tell you if it was host to some parasite; or…”
He’d tailed off as he had followed Greiss’ gaze。
They’d all looked down at Landon’s body。
Lorenzo let out a sigh; now; and rolled onto his back; accepting that he was awake for the
duration—until he could calm the raging thoughts that filled his head to bursting。 He listened to
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Myers; who was on watch; humming a quiet tune as he cleaned his knife。 He stared; almost
sightlessly; at the plastic sheeting that Muldoon and Donovits had tied around the leafiest branches
of the surrounding trees; collecting condensation for the squad’s water bottles。 He listened to
Braxton’s breathing; beside him; and he knew the Validian was awake too。
Rogar III was winning。 It was beating them—and the fact that it could only do so by changing
the rules was cold comfort to Lorenzo。
He had wanted a challenge。 He had wanted to earn his name。 But his squad was already two men
down; and they hadn’t seen a single ork yet。 There would be more casualties; of that; he was certain。
More chances to prove himself。 Or die trying。 Not that Lorenzo was afraid of death; but he thought
about the rest of his company; by now no doubt engaged in fierce battle。 He wondered if they had
scratched the surface of Rogar yet; if they’d learned its secrets—or if the planet was concentrating
its forces on this one small squad; the twelve men who had dared try to penetrate its dark heart。 Ten
men; now。 He wondered what those fellow Jungle Fighters would think; upon completing their
missions; if they found their bravery had all been for nothing—if there was no word from the squad
that had been entrusted with the most important assignment。
No; Lorenzo wasn’t afraid of death。 But he was afraid of failure。 And of going to an unmarked
grave; with no one left to remember his name or to tell of his heroism at the end。
They hadn’t been able to cremate Landon。 They were too close to the orks now to risk lighting a
fire。 Myers had expressed the dubious hope that their fallen comrade’s broken neck might prevent
his resurrection by the force that had animated Dougan。 But Donovits had just shaken his head。
Greiss had done the deed himself; in the end。 He hadn’t let anyone else help; he’d roared at
Woods when he’d tried to ignore that order。 He had told them to remember Landon as he was in life。
Still; Lorenzo couldn’t shake the image from his thoughts: Old Hardhead; driving the butt of his
lasgun down into the dead rookie’s arms and legs; over and over again。 Until his body was no more
than a fleshy sack for the fragments of his shattered bones。 Until no force in the Imperium or beyond
could have made Landon’s limbs support his weight。
The sound of a shovel striking the earth had seemed to repeat forever。 Greiss had reappeared; at
last; with his face dirt…streaked and red。 He had reported; in a hollow tone; that it was over; that
Landon could rest in peace。
Lorenzo drifted into a fitful doze; haunted by nightmares in which he was fighting his own
comrades; and the bony hands of Dougan and Landon were grasping at his ankles; trying to pull him
down into the earth to join them。
He could hear low voices。
He opened his eyes; catching his breath at a lingering vestige of some dream horror already
fading in his memory。 The night had swooped in when he hadn’t been looking。 It was dark; and the
huddled shapes around him were stirring; preparing。 It was time; already。
He scrambled to his feet; still unsettled by the dream but trying not to show it。 He pulled on his
jacket and bandolier; checked his pack。 Few words were spoken; the Jungle Fighters all
concentrating on what lay ahead of them; knowing its import。 Mackenzie and Braxton looked
especially tired; and Lorenzo realised that each must have slept only half the short rest period。
Neither had been placed on the watch rota; but the commissar probably hadn’t dared close his eyes
without his adjutant to look out for him。 He didn’t trust anybody else。
Lorenzo hadn’t been placed on watch either。 A part of him wondered if it was because Greiss
didn’t trust him。 Despite his pretence to the contrary。 Because of last night。 The sergeant’s briefing
soon quelled that fear; though。
Greiss spoke quietly and didn’t say much。 Sounds carried further at night。 Anyway; the
Catachans knew what was expected of them; and Mackenzie and Braxton would just have to follow
their lead。 He reminded the squad of the importance of stealth: “One ork or gretchin gets sight or
sound of us and lives to tell of it; and we’ve not only blown our mission; we won’t be around to
62
explain to Colonel Graves what the hell we thought we were doing。” Then he made the
pronouncement that caused Lorenzo’s heart to leap。
“Lorenzo takes point;” said Greiss。 “That’s because we might have more to contend with than
just greenskins。 Remember; people; those blue lights come out at night。 I want you to pair up; keep
an eye on your opposite number—first sign he shows of going misty…eyed; you give him a slap。
Lorenzo; I’m trusting you upfront alone because you’ve shaken off the effects of the light once。 If it
comes back; you can resist it; right?”
“Right; sergeant。”
Greiss outlined their proposed route; and Lorenzo felt a swell of pride when he turned to him in
particular and asked if he was clear on it。 He confirmed that he was; and Greiss drew him to one
side; and clapped him on the back。 “I know I don’t have to tell you to go slow and careful。 Hell; if
you’re as quiet out there as you are around us half the time; those orks will never hear you coming。”
Then Greiss gave the order to move out; and Lorenzo drew his Catachan fang and slipped into
the jungle; quickly but quietly; staying low; in cover。 He used his lasgun to part the vines and
creepers in his way; surveying the ground for predators and other hazards。 He advanced cautiously;
doing his best to leave no trail。 The foliage yielded to his soft but firm touch; but closed in again
behind him until he felt like he was travelling in his own green cocoon。 He knew his comrades were
behind him; but all he could hear of them was an occasional rustle that might have been a lizard or a
whisper of the night breeze。 They were keeping their distance; in case Lorenzo made a misstep; set
off an ork trap and blew himself to pieces。 He wa
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