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Death World(科幻战争)-第5部分

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screamed over our heads an hour ago; and almost demolished the very camp we’ve been fighting to
defend?” He made it sound like an accusation; as if Vines had been piloting the ship himself。 Before
Vines could speak; however; the commissar raised his voice to address the assembled platoon。 “My
name is Mackenzie。 I am in command here—and as long as you are on Rogar III; my word is the
Emperor’s word; is that clear?”
A few of the Catachans mumbled a derisory; “Yes; sir。” Most of them said nothing。
Mackenzie scowled。 “Let me make this clear from the outset;” he snapped。 “I don’t like
deathworlders。 In my experience; they are sloppy and undisciplined; with an arrogance that far
outstrips their ability。 The Emperor has seen fit to send you here; and I concede you may have
certain expertise that will hasten a conclusion to this war。 But had the decision been mine; let me tell
you; I would rather have fought on  the blessed birth world than ten from Canak
or Luther McIntyre or whatever hellhole it was you lot crawled out from。”
“Catachan; sir!” hollered Vines; and a proud roar swelled from the ranks of his men。 If
Mackenzie had expected to get a rise out of the Jungle Fighters; he was disappointed。 Most of them
ignored him; not quite looking at him; undermining him with a wave of indifference。 Woods said
something under his breath; a few men laughed; and the commissar’s eyes narrowed—but he hadn’t
quite caught the words and couldn’t pinpoint their source。
“As you are here;” he continued; “I intend to make the best of it。 I’m making it my mission to
whip you rabble into shape。 By the time I’m finished with you; you’ll be the smartest Guardsmen in
the Imperium。”
Mackenzie turned on his heel; then; and snarled in Vines’ direction; “Your platoon is late for my
briefing; lieutenant。 Ten laps round the camp perimeter; double time。 Last squad back does another
ten。”
“With respect; sir…” began Vines; the look of contempt in his eyes suggesting that respect was
the last thing he wanted to show。
“That includes you; lieutenant。” Mackenzie barked—and he marched away stiffly; into the
largest of the buildings。
Vines took a deep breath。 “All right;” he said; “you heard the man。”
13
The Catachans took their circuits at a leisurely pace; and with a cadence call that contained a few
choice lyrics about senior officers。
By the time they got to the lower ranks’ mess hall; there was only enough slop left for half rations;
and it was cold。
About fifty Catachans and a handful of ogryns from A and D Platoons had taken over a generous
area; perching on tables with their feet up on chairs; swigging from flasks and punching each other
boisterously。 They had broken out the hooch to celebrate their arrival; it had been brewed on the
troop ship; and put aside for a special occasion。 They filled the large space with their raucous
laughter。
There were other Guardsmen here—they outnumbered the Catachans two to one—but they were
finishing their meals in silence; along one side of the hall; looking very much like they’d been edged
out by the newcomers。 They wore red and gold; and were identified by their flashes as members of
the 32nd Royal Validian Regiment。 To Lorenzo’s eyes; most of them looked tall and gaunt—but
then; he was aware that Catachan had a higher than average gravity; which made its people more
squat and muscular than most。
It didn’t surprise him that the two groups had self…segregated。 The Catachans were Jungle
Fighters—elite deathworld veterans。 The best the Imperium had to offer; they believed。 The rankand…
file Guardsmen regarded them with a mixture of curiosity; admiration and; here more than in
many places; outright resentment。
Lorenzo’s squad picked up their meals and took over a table。 Greiss joined them presently; he’d
had the rookie; Landon; fetch his food for him while he’d pumped the other platoons for what they’d
learned so far。
He threw a folded sheet of paper onto the table。 Lorenzo saw the crudely printed header Eagle &
Bolter; and needed to look no closer。 Another propaganda broadsheet; doubtless full of consoling
“news” about how the war here was being won。 “Looks like we hit the jack pot this time;” said the
sergeant happily。 “We got killer plants; man…eating slugs; poison insects; acid swamps; all the usual。
On top of that; there’s talk of invisible monsters—and ghosts; would you believe!” He saw that a
couple of Validians were eavesdropping from the next table but one; and he added slyly; “Course we
only got the word of a few rookie Guardsmen for that。 Probably jumping at their own shadows。”
“Ghosts?” echoed Donovits; interested。
“Yes: ghosts; lights; whatever。 Supposed to appear at night; lure men into the jungle—and those
crazy enough to follow them don’t come back。”
“Speaking of which; sergeant;” said Armstrong; “any news on B Platoon?” The one…eyed trooper
made the question sound nonchalant; but Lorenzo knew Armstrong had belonged to the missing
platoon before his recent transfer。
“Not yet;” said Greiss。 “They had the same trouble we did on the way in; but it looks like they
set down further away。 They’re out there somewhere。”
“Lucky for them;” said Woods。 “They don’t have to put up with Commissar Jug…Handles
throwing his not considerable weight around。”
“It must’ve been some storm;” remarked Donovits。
“Blew up out of nowhere;” said Greiss; “by all accounts。 One second; the sky was clear; the
next; our drop ships were drawing strikes like lightning rods。 Then clear blue again。”
“Still think Naval Command were exaggerating; sergeant;” asked Woods with his characteristic
cheeky grin; “about this place turning into a deathworld?”
“Can’t see this place ever having been anything but;” commented Bullseye Myers。 “I don’t
know why it took ’em so long to admit it。”
“Maybe it was Mackenzie;” considered Dougan。 “You heard what the man said。 He doesn’t
want us here。”
14
“Yeah;” said Woods—and in a passable impression of the commissar’s nasal whine; he
continued; “‘I don’t like deathworlders。 I’m making it my mission to whip you lot into shape。 You
hear me; Greiss? On your knees and lick my shiny black boots。 And when you’re done with that;
you can kiss my—’”
“If I were you;” snarled a voice from behind him; “I’d be careful what you say about an officer
of the Imperium。”
Woods didn’t even glance back to see who was talking; though Lorenzo could see that it was a
broad…shouldered; square…headed Validian sergeant。
“Don’t care what his rank is;” said Woods offhandedly; “he’s still a damn idiot。”
“You want to repeat that to my face?”
Greiss’ eyes narrowed。 “Stand down; sergeant;” he growled。 “I’m in command of these men。
You have a problem with them; you bring it to me。”
“Mackenzie was right about you deathworlders;” the Validian sneered。 “You’ve no discipline;
no respect。”
“Where we come from;” murmured Muldoon; idly sharpening his night reaper blade on a piece
of flint; “respect is earned; not given。”
“You come charging in here; all gung…ho; bad…mouthing our people; thinking you can just take
over。”
“And here I thought you begged us to come;” said Woods; “because your lot couldn’t do your
jobs properly。 What’s the problem—sun too hot for you?”
“We’ve been here eighteen months;” snapped the Validian; “and we’re winning this war。 We’ve
driven the orks right back; there hasn’t been an attack on this encampment or any other in three
weeks。 If you wanted to help; you should have been here when we were cleansing areas; holding the
line; facing ambushes day and night。 But no; true to form; you glory hounds show up in time for the
mopping up and claim all me credit。”
Greiss was on his feet; his lip curling into a dangerous snarl。 “Have you quite finished;
sergeant?”
Woods stood now; too; on the pretext of clearing away his half…empty bowl。 “It’s okay;
sergeant;” he said; “just a bitter old man letting off some steam—and can you blame him? Can’t be
many Imperial Guard regiments have had to go crying for reinforcements against a few trees and
flowers。”
The Validian’s eyes bulged and hi
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