Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第30部分

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comrades　knew　who　they　were　shooting　at；　that　they　wouldn’t　mistake　him　and　Palinev　for　their
targets。
Most　of　their　fire；　in　fact；　was　directed　at　Mangellan　—　but　he　was　well…protected；　by　the　Traitor
Guardsmen　around　him；　bustling　him　away　down　the　dais　steps。　Furst　scurried　along　behind　them；
keeping　close；　benefiting　from　their　armour；　although　Grayle　couldn’t　tell　if　the　traitors　had　even
seen　him　in　their　wake。
And　then　there　was　the　Chaos　Space　Marine。
He　leapt　from　the　dais；　reaching　the　edge　of　the　courtyard　with　one　powerful　spring。　He　smacked
into　the　palace　wall；　punching　through　the　ice　to　make　handholds　for　himself；　started　to　haul　himself
upwards。　Grayle　saw　Blonsky’s　face　in　a　window；　paling　as　a　gauntleted　hand　clamped　onto　the　sill
in　front　of　him。　He　drove　his　gun　butt　into　the　Chaos　Space　Marine’s　fingers；　but　couldn’t　dislodge
them。　He　turned　and　ran；　disappearing　from　Grayle’s　vieassive　form
through　the　small　window　after　him。
In　the　confusion；　no　one　had　thought　to　secure　the　would…be　sacrifices。　Perhaps　Mangellan
thought　them　secure　enough；　hadn’t　realised　that　his　enemies　had　already　got　to　them。　Grayle’s
lasgun　burnt　through　Wollkenden’s　chains　at　last；　and　the　confessor　fell　into　his　arms。
“Is　it　my　turn　to　speak？”　he　asked　weakly。　“I　must　say；　I　expected　a　little　more　discipline　from
the　troops。　Obviously；　I’ve　been　gone　too　long。　That’s　the　trouble　these　days；　no　leadership。”
“Please；　confessor；”　said　Grayle；　“I’m　trying　to　rescue　you。　Just…　just　hold　still…　sir；　please…　I
need　to　get　this　cloak　over　your　head。”
“Take　your　hands　off　me！”　bellowed　Wollkenden　—　and　he　pushed　Grayle　aside；　took　his　own
weight　unsteadily；　and　looked　around　like　a　startled　rabbit　about　to　bolt…
…as　Steele；　having　been　freed　and　disguised　by　Palinev；　strode　up　beside　him　and；　without
breaking　his　step；　threw　a　punch　to　Wollkenden’s　head　that　knocked　him　spark　out。　Grayle　and
Palinev　watched　in　abject　astonishment　as　the　colonel　hoisted　the　confessor’s　limp　body　over　his
shoulders。
“Well？”　he　barked　at　them。　“Are　we　getting　out　of　here　or　what？”
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Barreski　could　hardly　breathe。
The　explosions　had　kicked　up　twin　plumes　of　smoke；　which　were　settling　now　upon　the
occupants　of　the　courtyard。　The　Chaos　worshippers　were　packed　too　tightly　around　him；　restricting
his　movement；　their　elbows　digging　into　his　ribs　and　his　stomach。　He　braced　himself　against　them；
knowing　that　if　he　let　his　guard　down　for　an　instant　he　would　be　crushed　between　them　or　just
overrun。
He　had　one　advantage；　though；　over　the　heretics。　He　knew　where　the　bombs　were　—　or　rather；
where　they　had　been；　because　Mikhaelev　had　only　had　two　demolition　charges　left　and　they　had
both　blown。　Barreski　had　placed　one　himself；　and　was　proud　of　his　handiwork；　the　carnage　he　had
caused。
A　hapless　cultist　lost　his　footing　and　fell　coughing　against　the　disguised　Ice　Warrior。　Barreski
took　the　opportunity　to　slip　his　knife　into　the　man’s　heart；　let　him　slide　to　the　floor。　Another　one　less
to　worry　about；　he　thought。
His　quarter　of　the　crowd　appeared　to　have　reached　an　unspoken　consensus。　They　had　chosen　an
archway；　an　escape　route；　through　which　to　evacuate；　had　started　to　move　together　instead　of
fighting　each　other。　Barreski　hoisted　himself　onto　the　shoulders　of　a　protesting　cultist　in　front　of
him；　and　he　screamed　out；　“Another　bomb！　Look！　There　it　is！　Can’t　you　see　it？　In　the　branches　of
that　tree！”
No　one　could　see　the　bomb；　because　it　didn’t　exist。　Still；　Barreski’s　words　were　enough　to　make
a　significant　number　of　the　heretics　turn　back；　to　fight　once　more　against　the　tide　of　their　fellows；　to
spread　more　panic。
He　glanced　up　at　the　dais；　and　saw　that　it　was　empty。　Grayle　and　Palinev　would　be　heading　for
their　preselected　exit；　taking　Steele　and　Wollkenden　with　them。　He　muttered　a　quick　prayer　for　their
safety。　It　was　time　for　him　to　get　out　of　here　himself。
Palinev　had　chosen　a　different　way　out　for　Barreski；　a　closer　one　to　his　position。　He　had　scouted
a　route　for　him　back　to　the　sewer　tunnel；　made　sure　that　he　had　memorised　the　directions。　Barreski
pressed　his　elbows　into　service；　and　started　to　force　his　way　across　the　yard。
And　that　was　when　he　saw　Mangellan；　his　traitor　escort　clearing　a　path　for　him；　using　their
lasguns　when　they　had　to。　And　he　was　just　a　few　metres　away…
He　couldn’t　resist　it。　He　knew　it　meant　giving　himself　away；　but　he　snuck　his　lasgun　out　from
beneath　his　robes；　flicked　its　power　pack　to　full　auto　and　squeezed　off　ten　las…beams　in　the　high
priest’s　direction。
The　traitors　reacted　quickly；　putting　themselves　in　the　line　of　fire；　deflecting　most　of　it　with　their
armour…　most　of　it…　Barreski　gave　a　triumphant　cry　as　one　of　his　beams　glanced　across
Mangellan’s　face；　causing　him　to　scream　out；　to　clap　his　hands　to　his　eyes。　But　now　he　had　his　own
safety　to　worry　about。
Already；　the　traitors　were　starting　to　move　towards　him。　He　had　to　lose　himself　again。　He　put　his
head　down；　tried　to　slip　away　amid　the　other　black　cloaks；　but　he　was　brought　up　short　by　a　brawny
cultist　with　a　knife。
“Did　you　see　him？”　bluffed　Barreski；　pointing　wildly。　“He　had　a　bomb；　and　he　was　coming　up
behind　the　high　priest。　He　would　have　killed　him　if　I　hadn’t…　Look；　you　need　to　defend　yourself！”
He　thrust　his　lasgun　into　the　cultist’s　hands　while　he　was　still　gaping；　trying　to　work　out　what　it　was
he　had　seen。
Then　Barreski　was　gone；　leaving　the　brawny　cultist　with　the　weapon。　Which　was　how　the
Traitor　Guardsmen　found　him；　a　second　later。
“Space　Marines！　Coming　up　the　passageway！”　Pozhar　hated　this。
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He　was　stationed　in　one　of　the　arched　doorways　into　the　palace　proper；　his　job　to　keep　it　as　clear
as　he　could　for　Steele　and　Wollkenden’s　escape。　This　meant　pretending　to　be　one　of　the　heretics　—
almost　as　bad；　pretending　to　be　afraid　—　but　Gavotski　had　given　him　no　say　in　the　matter。
Few　of　the　cultists　were　coming　this　way；　anyway。　Mikhaelev　and　Barreski　had　placed　their
charges　carefully；　herding　them　in　the　opposite　direction　—　and　of　those　who　did　try　to　pass　Pozhar；
about　half　were　turned　back　by　his　feigned　panic。　Still；　there　were　some　who　didn’t　seem　to　hear
him；　or　were　so　eager　to　get　out　of　the　courtyard　that　they　took　their　chances。　As　one　of　them
bumped　into　him；　it　was　all　he　could　do　not　to　draw　his　lasgun　and　start　shooting。
“They…　they’ve　got　chainswords！”　he　shouted　desperately　after　the　escapees。　“And　guns！　Big
guns！”
“Pozhar！”
He　turned　at　the　sound　of　his　name；　couldn’t　see　who　had　called　it　at　first。　In　a　yard　full　of　robed
figures；　it　was　near　impossible　to　tell　which　ones　were　his　comrades。　Then　he　recognised　the　slight
form　of　Palinev　—　and　there；　beside　him；　that　had　to　be　Grayle。　And　between　them…
Pozhar　raced　forward；　dived　into　the　crowd；　helped　Palinev　to　lift　the　unconscious　Wollkenden。
He　had　discarded　his　sling；　declaring　himself　healed；　still；　this　exercise　of　his　muscles　sent　a　lance
of　pain　down　his　right　arm。
“What　happened？”　he　cried。　“What　went　wrong？”
“It’s　okay；　trooper；”　said　Steele　breathlessly；　picking　himself　up；　leaning　on　Palinev。　“I　just…
overestimated　my　strength；　that’s　all。　Still　tired…　Perhaps　you　and　Grayle　could…　could　look　after
Confessor　Wollkenden　for　me？”
Pozhar　would　have　accepted　that　burden　gladly。　But　at　that　moment；　he　heard　gunfire　from
somewhere　close　by；　and　he　turned　to　see　a　squad　of　Traitor　Guardsmen　pushing　their　way　towards
the　Ice　Warriors。　They　were　brandishing　lasguns；　firing　into　the　air　so　that　the　heretics　parted　before
them。
Pozhar　drew　his　gun；　shouting　to　Grayle　and　Palinev；　“Go！　Get　the　confessor　and　the　colonel　out
of　here。　I’ll　hold　them　off！”
And　he　started　firing　—　not　upwards；　but　straight　into　the　bodies　in　front　of　him。
The　cultists　were　taken　unawares。　They　fell　like　dominoes；　each　hit　felling　three　or　more　of　them
—　and　the　ripple　effect　spread　back　to　the　Traitor　Guardsmen；　blocking　their　path；　threatening　to
knock　them　down　too。　They　tried　to　fire　back；　but　the　seething　mass　of　people　between　them　and
Pozhar　made　it　an　impossible　shot；　and　they　only　succeeded　in　taking　out　a　few　more　of　their　own。
He　could　have　gone　after　the　others；　then；　could　have　taken　the　chance　that　he　had　delayed　their
pursuers　long　enough　for　them　all　to　escape。　Yes；　he　could　have　done　that…
The　cultists　between　Pozhar　and　the　Traitor　Guardsmen　had　begun　to　rally；　identified　the　threat
in　their　midst　and；　unable　to　flee；　swarmed　him　instead。　Few　of　them　were　trained　fighters　—　half　of
them　were　women　—　but　they　had　overwhelming　numbers　on　their　side。　They　punched　the　Ice
Warrior；　clawed　at　him；　dragged　him　down。　He　saw　the　glint　of　a　knife　blade；　too　late　to　avoid　its
swipe；　felt　it　breaking　the　synth…skin　on　his　stomach　where　the　sewer　creature　had　holed　him　with　its
spines。　His　lasgun　was　snatched　from　him。　He　took　blow　after　blow　to　his　head。　He　wasn’t　quite
sure　what　kept　him　from　falling　down　—　but　as　long　as　he　was　standing；　he　would　fight。
Pozhar　was　a　whirlwind　of　limbs；　punching；　kicking；　scratching；　defying　any　of　his　foes　to　get　a
firm　hold　on　him。
And　clutched　in　his　left　fist；　he　held　his　ultimate　weapon：　the　primed　frag　grenade　that　would
collapse　the　archway　behind　Steele　and　the　others；　slow　down　anyone　who　tried　to　follow　them　—
and　also　ensure　that　the　heretics　that　killed　him　would　die　by　his　side。　Just　as　he　had　planned　would
happen　outside　Alpha　Hive　two　mornings　ago。
He　wondered　if　this；　then；　was　what　the　Emperor　had　spared　him　for　on　that　occasion。　He
wanted　to　believe　this。　But　the　itchy　grey　fur　was　all　over　his　chest；　spreading　down　his　back；　and　he
could　no　longer　open　his　right　hand　fully。　His　fingers　had　hunched　over　and　he　thought　his
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fingernails　had　grown　longer；　and　Pozhar　knew　in　his　heart　that　his　god　could　have　played　no　part　in
any　of　that。
He　hadn’t　come　into　this　battle　with　the　intention　of　dying　in　it。　At　least；　he　didn’t　think　he　had。
But　the　only　thing　keeping　his　secret　now；　he　was　sure；　was　the　black　cloak　he　was　wearing；　and　he
couldn’t　bear　to　see　the　expressions　of　his　comrades；　didn’t　want　to　have　to　face　their　judgement；
when　that　cloak　came　off。
The　Traitor　Guardsmen　were　almost　upon　him。　Another　few　seconds；　and　they　would　have　a
clear　shot；　would　be　able　to　finish　him。　He　activated　the　grenade；　on　a　short　fuse；　and　he　lured　them
back　towards　the　archway。
It　was　better　this　way；　he　thought。
Better　that　his　body　be　blown　apart；　and　then　liquefied　by　the　virus　bombs　before　any　piece　of
him　could　suffer　the　ignominy　of　being　flung　into　a　Chaos　burial　pit。　Better　that　no　one　should　have
the　chance　to　inspect　his　remains；　that　his　comrades；　let　alone　his　commanders；　should　never　learn
of　his　shame。
Better　to　let　them　all　believe　that　Trooper　Pozhar　died　a　hero。
Mangellan　was　blind。
He　hadn’t　seen　the　las…beam　that　had　hit　him；　his　eyes　already　teary　with　smoke。　There　had　just
been　a　flash；　and　a　searing　pain。　He　felt　as　if　his　face　was　on　fire。　He　couldn’t　see　where　he　was
going；　didn’t　know　what　was　happening；　he　had　to　trust　to　his　escorts　to　guide　him　to　safety。
He　stumbled　into　the　cooling　embrace　of　his　palace；　his　magnificent