Death World(科幻战争)-第15部分

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treading　carefully。　Woods　was　sharing　a　joke　with　Greiss；　who　was　in　a　surprisingly　sanguine　mood；
when　his　feet　were　yanked　out　from　under　him。　The　Catachans　went　for　their　weapons　as　their
comrade　dropped。　Woods　was　on　the　ground；　in　the　long　jungle　grass；　and　the　red　flowers　were　all
screaming。
Lorenzo’s　first　thought　was　that　he　had　been　careless；　stepped　too　close　to　the　flowers—though
he　had　to　admit；　that　didn’t　sound　much　like　Hotshot。　But　Woods；　he　realised；　wasn’t　just　being
held；　he　was　being　dragged。
It　wasn’t　the　flowers’　heads　that　had　Woods；　it　was　their　roots。　They　had　burst　out　of　the　ground；
tangled　themselves　around　his　ankles—and　they　were　grasping　now　for　his　wrists。　They　were
coiling　and　writhing　around　him　like　living　things；　like　serpents；　striking　when　they　sensed　an
opening。　The　closest　troopers—Muldoon　and　Landon—had　dropped　to　their　haunches；　knives
drawn；　but　the　roots　were　thick　and　tough。　By　the　time　Landon　had　drawn　sap；　and　Muldoon　had　cut
his　first　root　through；　ten　more　had　erupted　from　the　undergrowth　to　replace　them。　And　the　wailing
flower　heads　were　snapping　at　the　would…be　rescuers；　straining　at　their　stems。
Woods　was　pulled　out　from　under　Landon。　The　rookie　lunged　after　him；　desperate　not　to　lose　the
root　he　had　almost　severed—and　a　flower　head　caught　his　finger。　Landon　fought　to　free　himself；　but
the　red　petals　held　him　as　tightly　as　they’d　held　Greiss’　stick　the　previous　day。　Landon　redistributed
his　weight；　tried　to　gain　leverage；　and　another　flower　opened　its　petals　wide　and　clamped　itself　onto
his　left　ankle。　He　was　immobilised。
Muldoon　had　fared　better；　snatching　his　hand　away　from　a　similar　attack—but　by　the　time　he
and　his　night　reaper　resumed　their　work；　Woods　had　been　pulled　another　metre　toward　uncharted
territory。　The　nearest　roots　had　relaxed　their　grips　now；　having　passed　their　captive　on　to　those
behind。　They　were　rearing　up；　twitching　from　side　to　side　as　if　on　the　lookout　for　fresh　prey。
Woods　had　one　hand　free；　and　he　was　clutching　at　the　undergrowth；　at　anything　that　might
anchor　him。　After　pulling　up　a　third　clump　of　weeds；　he　abandoned　this　plan　and　reached　instead　for
his　devil　claw。　As　he　tried　to　manoeuvre　it　through　the　living　bonds　that　held　him；　a　flower　caught
the　blade　and　wrenched　it　from　his　grip。
“Hey；”　called　Woods；　the　strain　in　his　voice　belying　his　forced　jovial　tone；　“a　little　help　would
be　appreciated；　you　know？”
The　entreaty　was　unnecessary。　Most　of　the　Jungle　Fighters　were　on　him；　or　struggling　to　reach
him　through　the　minefield　of　grasping　vegetation。　They　were　cutting；　tearing；　hacking；　but　Woods
was　still　being　pulled　away　from　them。　A　root　caught　his　free　arm；　and　pinned　it　to　his　side　like　the
other　one。　Now　he　was　trussed　up　good　and　proper；　like　a　fish　in　a　net；　hardly　able　to　even　struggle
anymore。
Mackenzie　was　shouting；　“Don’t　just　stand　there；　do　something！　Cut　him　loose！”　as　if　it　might
help。　Lorenzo　was　just　watching；　thinking…　looking　for　a　way；　a　safe　path；　to　reach　Woods　through
the　press　of　bodies　that　surrounded　him；　realising　that　even　if　he　could　find　one　he　would　only　be
joining　a　losing　battle…
He　remembered　the　acid　lake；　and　it　occurred　to　him　that　the　roots　might　be　pulling　Hotshot
towards　something…
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Lorenzo　bounded　past　his　comrades；　drawing　his　las…gun。　He　was　surprised　to　find　that
Guardsman　Braxton　had　had　the　same　thought。　They　stood　side　by　side；　and　scanned　their
surroundings；　fingers　uneasy　on　their　triggers。
Lorenzo　saw　it　first：　an　acid　spitter；　lurking　in　the　heart　of　a　flowering　bush；　almost　totally
concealed。　It　stiffened；　as　if　sensing　eyes　upon　it；　and　opened　its　mouth。　He　was　sure　it　was　too　far
away　to　reach　him　with　its　deadly　spray—but　instinct　made　him　leap　aside　anyway；　and　push
Braxton　with　him。
The　spitter’s　aim　e　sluicing　into　the　dirt　at　just　the　spot　where　they
had　been　standing。　A　few　seconds　later；　and　Woods’　head　would　have　entered　its　range。
A　dual　burst　of　las…fire　destroyed　the　acid　spitter。　Then；　without　having　to　confer；　both　Lorenzo
and　Braxton　pointed　their　guns　at　the　undergrowth　in　Woods’　path；　and　began　to　blast　the　flowers
that　waited　there。　The　flowers’　siren　wail　went　up　an　octave；　becoming　louder；　more　intense；　more
painful；　and　Lorenzo’s　head　began　to　throb。　He　could　see　black　spots　at　the　edge　of　his　vision；　and
he　knew　the　rest　of　his　squad　was　affected　too；　because　they　were　starting　to　reel　and　shake　their
heads　and　put　their　hands　to　their　ears。
He　kept　on　firing；　because　it　was　the　only　way　to　end　it。　Each　time　he　incinerated　a　red　flower
head；　its　roots　thrashed　for　a　few　seconds　longer　and　then　fell　limp；　but　that　dreadful　sound　never
seemed　to　ease。
Lorenzo　had　to　cease　firing　when　he　was　too　blind　to　aim　properly；　when　the　remaining　flowers
were　too　close　to　the　prone　Woods　for　safety。　He　was　going　nowhere　now；　the　roots　around　him
dead　and　blackened；　but　he　was　still　firmly　entangled。　The　other　Jungle　Fighters　followed　Lorenzo
and　Braxton’s　lead；　targeting　the　flower　heads　rather　than　their　roots。　They　seized　them　by　the　red
petals；　holding　their　“mouths”　closed；　and　sawed　them　from　their　stems。　With　each　flower　that　died；
more　of　Woods’　bonds　fell　loose；　and　finally　he　was　able　to　tear　himself　free　and　stand；　evidently　in
pain　from　the　continuing　screaming。
Mackenzie　was　feeling　the　worst　of　it；　though。　He　was　practically　on　his　knees；　his　hands
clasped　over　his　ears；　and　Lorenzo　was　alarmed　to　see　blood　trickling　through　his　fingers。
With　Woods　out　of　the　danger　area；　however—and　Landon　freed　now；　along　with　Woods’
knife—lasguns　could　be　employed　again；　and　it　wasn’t　long　before　the　final　red　flower　was　blasted
to　a　cinder。　Lorenzo　closed　his　eyes　and　let　out　a　long；　shuddering　sigh　as　he　was　soothed　by　a
blessed　silence。
“Well；　that　seals　it；”　muttered　Greiss；　when　their　ears　had　finally　stopped　ringing。　“There’s
something　seriously　nuts　about　this　place。”
Donovits　was　sitting　on　the　ground　with　his　knees　drawn　up　to　his　chest；　his　forehead　shiny　with
sweat。　“It’s　as　if　evolution　has　been　speeded　up　here；”　he　considered。　“The　red　flowers　couldn’t
catch　their　prey　any　more；　because　the　insects—and　we—had　learned　to　keep　out　of　their　way；　so
they　evolved　a　means　of　bringing　their　prey　to　them。　Likewise　for　the　spitters；　they’ve　learned　how
to　spit　further。　The　different　species　are　even　working　together—but　all　this　should　take　generations。
Instead；　it’s　happened　in　a　few　days。　I’d　say　it　was　impossible；　but　we’re　seeing　it　with　our　own
eyes。”
Lorenzo　felt　that　chill　of　the　unnatural　playing　about　his　spine　again。　He　didn’t　want　to　hear　this；
didn’t　want　to　believe；　but　he　had　no　choice。　“That’s　why　the　birds　and　the　lizards　have　been
growing　more　hostile；”　he　said　in　a　hollow　tone。
“And　changing　their　tactics。”　Donovits　confirmed。
“And　why　they　only　started　calling　Rogar　III　a　deathworld　a　few　weeks　ago；”　said　Armstrong。
“I’d　guess；”　said　Donovits；　“that　it　was　the　arrival　of　the　orks　and　the　Imperium　that　upset　the
ecological　balance　here。　Since　then…”
“Rogar　has　been　evolving　ways　to　combat　them。”　Armstrong　concluded　the　thought　grimly。
“Now；　it’s　evolving　ways　to　combat　us！”
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It　took　a　moment　for　that　to　sink　in；　for　the　consequences　to　register　with　everyone；　before
Greiss　put　them　into　words。
“That　means　we　can’t　take　a　thing　for　granted；”　he　said　glumly。　“Soon　as　we　think　we　know
what　a　creature　or　plant　can　do；　it’s　likely　to　up　and　develop　a　whole　new　set　of　offensive
capabilities。　You　need　to　stay　on　your　toes；　troopers。”
Mackenzie　had　been　leaning　against　a　tree；　hands　on　his　knees；　getting　his　breath　back；　licking
his　wounds。　Now　he　pushed　himself　up　to　an　unsteady　vertical。　“You’re　forgetting；　Trooper　Greiss；
you　don’t　give　the　orders　around　here　anymore。”
“Will　do；　sergeant；”　said　Woods　as　if　the　commissar　hadn’t　spoken。
“Too　right；　sergeant；”　said　Myers。
“Whatever　you　say；　sergeant；”　said　Storm。
Mackenzie　just　scowled；　and　ordered　them　to　get　moving。　He　was　no　longer　so　keen；　though；　to
lead　from　the　front　as　he　had　been　doing。　He　instructed　Woods　to　take　point　in　his　place；　and　fell
back　to　his　more　accustomed　position　among　the　troops。　He　saw　that　Greiss　was　regarding　him
through　hooded　eyes；　and　he　said　curtly；　“I’m　watching　you；　Greiss。　One　misstep　and　I’ll　have　you
in　chains。”
“With　respect；　commissar；”　Greiss　growled；　“you　might　be　better　off　watching　your　own　back。
The　jungle’s　a　dangerous　place—and　if　you　get　dragged　away　like　Hotshot　just　did；　you　don’t　want
to　be　relying　on　an　‘undisciplined　rabble’　to　save　your　scrawny　hide；　now　do　you？”
He　bared　his　teeth　in　a　cruel　smile。
They　reached　the　river　early　in　the　afternoon。
Mackenzie　looked　pleased　about　this；　as　it　suggested　he　had　kept　his　squad　on　course　despite
Greiss’　reservations。　“Five　minutes；　everyone；”　he　said　magnanimously。　“Fill　your　water　bottles；
wash　up；　whatever　you　feel　you　need　to　do。　Just　remember；　this　is　the　last　known　fresh　water
between　us　and　the　warboss。”
“You’re　assuming　it　is　fresh　water；”　said　Greiss。
“I　told　you　before；　Greiss；　my　men　reconnoitred　this　area。　We　tested　the　water　for　all　known
poisons　and　diseases。”
“We　might　know　a　few　you　don’t；”　suggested　Armstrong。
Mackenzie’s　voice　rose　in　indignation。　“That　water　is　perfectly　safe。　I’ve　drunk　it　myself。　Or　did
you　think　we’d　been　sitting　on　our　hands　for　the　past　year　just　waiting　for　the　almighty　Jungle
Fighters　to　show　up　and　rescue　us？”
“Just　saying　I’d　like　to　see　for　myself；”　growled　Greiss。　“Sharkbait？”
“Aye；　sergeant。”　Muldoon　tore　up　a　handful　of　weeds　and　approached　the　riverbank。　The　water；
a　short　way　below　him；　was　impossibly　clear　and　fast　flowing。　It　was　six　metres　wide；　and　it
sparkled　hypnotically　as　it　caught　the　sun。　Lorenzo　shared　the　sergeant’s　suspicion：　it　looked　too
good　to　be　true。
Muldoon　cast　his　weeds　into　the　river。　It　hissed　and　bubbled　where　they　hit；　and　Lorenzo　could
see　that　the　water　was　eating　into　the　vegetation；　even　as　the　current　swept　it　away　in　a　telltale　cloud
of　vapour。
Mackenzie　blanched。　“It…　The　reports…　My　men　assured　me…　Why　would　they…？”
“Just　a　guess；　commissar；　sir；”　said　Greiss　with　a　crooked　grin；　“but　perhaps　your　men　just　don’t
like　you　much。”
Braxton　hurried　to　offer　a　kinder　explanation。　“It　must　be　as　Donovits　said；　sir。　The　planet　is
adapting　to　our　presence；　finding　new　ways　to　fight　us。”
“Maybe；”　agreed　Donovits；　“but　this　goes　beyond　evolution；　accelerated　or　not。　If　this　really　was
a　freshwater　river—if　it’s　become　so　highly　acidic　in　a　matter　of　weeks—we’re　talking　about　a
sizeable　ecological　shift。”
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“Could　it　be　the　orks？”　asked　Braxton—and　he　wasn’t　the　only　man　present；　Lorenzo　sensed；
who　wanted　to　think　that—to　cling　to　a　rational；　knowable　cause　for　their　woes。　“Could　they　have
poisoned　the　water　somehow？”
“Maybe；”　conceded　Donovits；　though　he　sounded　doubtful。
“Don’t　underestimate　these　orks；”　muttered　Mackenzie。　“I　told　you；　this　new　warboss　is　smart！”
“Yes；　well；”　said　Greiss。　“Right　now；　the　important　thing　isn’t　what　may　or　may　not　have
happen