Death World(科幻战争)-第23部分

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and　one　of　them　leapt　at　him　but　he　turned　its　momentum　and　its　weight　against　it；　and　threw　it　over
his　shoulder　and　off　the　moving　vehicle。　The　others　fired；　and　Muldoon’s　body　twitched　and　jerked
as　their　bullets　ripped　into　him；　and　Lorenzo　feared　that　he　too　would　fall　and　die　in　a　splatter　of
mud　and　blood；　but　he　was　climbing—climbing　onto　the　back　of　the　battlewagon　as　if　animated　by
willpower　alone；　and　he　fell　into　the　midst　of　the　ork　mob　and　they　leapt　upon　him　and　tore　him
apart；　but　by　then　his　final　goal　had　been　achieved。
The　charges　blew　the　battlewagon　apart　from　the　inside；　and　eight　orks　died　screaming。
By　that　time；　Lorenzo　had　replaced　the　depleted　pack　in　the　lasgun　his　comrade　had　given　him；
and　he　was　firing　at　the　shapes　that　loomed　about　him；　making　sure　he　kept　moving；　an　impossible
target　amid　the　sensory　chaos。　He　felt　a　grim　sense　of　triumph　as　he　claimed　his　tenth　kill　of　the
night；　and　he　thought　of　Sharkbait　Muldoon　and　knew　he　would　have　been　proud。
But　he　also　knew　he　was　surrounded；　and　the　orks　were　homing　in　on　him　now；　closing　him
down。　They　came　at　Lorenzo　from　all　sides；　moving　in　to　close　combat　as　usual；　trusting　in　their
greater　strength　and　numbers　against　his　greater　dexterity。　This　time；　he　knew；　he　had　no　right　to
expect　a　reprieve；　no　Marbo　to　save　him。　He　had　used　up　all　his　luck。　So　he　dropped　his　gun　and
hurled　the　last　of　his　grenades；　and　he　thought　about　how　bravely　Muldoon　had　died—and　Donovits
too；　he　didn’t　doubt—and　he　drew　his　Catachan　fang。
And　finally；　Lorenzo　ran　to　greet　his　enemies；　with　his　trusty　knife　in　his　hand　and　a　defiant　roar
in　his　throat。
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CHAPTER　TWELVE
The　fighting　seemed　to　have　gone　on　forever。
Lorenzo　remembered　the　first　tint　of　sunlight　touching　the　sky；　remembered　how　amazed　he’d
been　that　only　one　night　had　passed　because　it　seemed　so　long　since　he’d　thought　of　anything　but
blood　and　smoke　and　fire。　Yet　when　he　looked　back　on　that　time；　much　of　it　was　no　more　than　a
blur　of　sneering　ork　faces　and　knife　thrusts　and　death。　Lots　of　death。　He　thought　that；　at　one　point；
he’d　stood　back　to　back　with　Sergeant　Greiss；　but　he　couldn’t　be　sure。　Once　they’d　moved　into
hand…to…hand　combat；　he’d　had　no　choice　but　to　surrender　himself　to　his　instincts。　Otherwise　he’d
have　thought　about　the　tiredness　in　his　muscles　and　the　aches　from　his　bruises　and　the　stilloverwhelming
odds　against　him；　and　he　would　have　lain　down　and　died。　Or；　worse　still；　he’d　have
thought　about　dying。
He　could　have　died；　and　he’d　probably　have　known　nothing　about　it。　Just　wound　down　like　a
spring；　from　a　wound　he　hadn’t　yet　felt；　and　that　wouldn’t　have　been　so　bad；　would　it？
Lorenzo　was　fighting　in　his　sleep；　muscle　memory　twitching　his　arms　in　response　to　an
imaginary　parade　of　blood…crazed　enemies。　Somewhere　in　the　back　of　his　mind；　he　thought　he　must
have　wondered　if　he　would　ever　wake　up；　or　if　he　would　fight　this　nightmare　struggle　forever。
Yes；　it　had　been　a　glorious　battle。
And　it　was　made　all　the　more　so　by　the　fact　that；　in　the　end；　Lorenzo　felt　sunlight　touching　his
face；　and　he　opened　his　eyes　and　knew　that　he　had　lived。
It　took　him　a　moment　to　work　out　where　he　was。　The　light　was　bright；　but　his　surroundings　seemed
dim。　He　realised　that　the　light　was　streaming　through　a　small　window；　to　be　swallowed　by　the　dust
and　the　dirt　in　here。
An　ork　hut。　Lorenzo　was　lying　on　a　makeshift　bunk；　really　no　more　than　a　pile　of　junk　draped
with　rags；　and　he　was　swaddled　in　stinking　furs。　He　was　hot；　burning　up。　It　crossed　his　mind　only
briefly　that　the　orks　themselves　might　have　brought　him　here；　as　a　hostage。　That　wasn’t　their　style。
The　fact　that　he　was　here　meant　his　small　squad　had　achieved　the　impossible。　They　had　won。　But　at
what　price？
Lorenzo　felt　a　stiffness　in　his　side；　and　sent　a　tentative　hand　under　his　bulky　coverings　to
investigate。　His　questing　fingers　found　a　hard　knot　of　synth…skin；　between　the　ribs　in　his　right　side；
and　he　winced　at　the　sudden　white　hot　memory　of　an　axe　blade　scything　through　his　flesh。　His
memories　were　disordered；　still　vague；　but　that　pain；　he　felt　sure；　was　among　the　most　recent　of
them。　He　sighed　regretfully。　He　would　have　liked　to　be　found　standing；　at　the　end。
“Hey；　Lorenzo？　You　moving　under　all　that　lot？”
The　familiar　voice　drew　Lorenzo’s　gaze　to　his　left；　to　the　next　bunk；　where　lay　Woods。　He　must
have　been　injured　too；　though　Lorenzo　wouldn’t　have　known　it　from　the　cocky　grin　on　his　face。
“Bout　time　too；”　said　Woods。　“Been　lying　here　awake　on　my　own　the　past　couple　of　hours；　while
you’ve　been　snoring　away。　What’s　the　point　in　winning　the　biggest　damn　scrap　this　squad’s　ever
seen　if　you　can’t　jaw　about　it　with　your　buddies　afterwards；　huh？”
“We…　did　win；　then？”
Woods　raised　an　eyebrow。　“I’ll　put　that　down　to　your　being　flak　happy。　Of　course　we　won；
Lorenzo！”
“What　I　mean　is…　I　heard　about　Brains。”
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Woods　pouted。　“Yeah。　We　lost　Brains。　And　they’re　starting　to　give　up　on　Sharkbait；　too。　Been
looking　for　him　all　morning。”
Lorenzo’s　mind’s　eye　flashed　up　a　picture　of　Muldoon　racing　into　the　light　of　the　ork
battlewagon；　and　he　felt　a　pang　in　his　stomach。　“They　won’t　find　him；”　he　said　numbly。　Woods
fixed　him　ost　needy　gaze；　and　Lorenzo　realised　that　it　was　up　to　him　to　tell
Sharkbait　Muldoon’s　last　story；　to　keep　it　alive。　He　had　that　honour；　and　that　responsibility。　So　he
took　a　deep　breath；　closed　his　eyes　for　a　moment　as　he　picked　his　words；　and　he　told　it。
He　emphasised　how　brave　Muldoon　had　been。　He　mentioned　the　gash　in　his　head；　because　it
made　him　seem　all　the　more　heroic　for　having　overcome　such　an　injury—and　he　exaggerated　the
number　of　orks　on　the　wagon；　that　he　had　killed；　because　after　all　it　had　been　dark　and　there’d　been
so　much　smoke　and　there　could　have　been　fourteen　or　fifteen　of　them；　and　Lorenzo　didn’t　want　to
sell　his　comrade　short。　Woods　listened　to　the　story　with　growing　admiration；　and　when　it　was　done
he　breathed　in　through　his　teeth　and　agreed　that　Sharkbait　had　died　well。　Lorenzo　felt　an　odd　sort　of
pride　at　having　been　there；　at　having　seen　something　so　inspiring；　but　most　of　all　at　knowing　he’d
done　justice　to　his　fallen　comrade’s　memory；　and　somehow　everything　seemed　a　little　brighter　then。
“A　couple　of　the　others　saw　how　Brains　went。”　Woods　related　in　return。　“There　were　a　few　of
them　together；　and　the　orks　were　searching　the　jungle；　and　they　hadn’t　had　time　to　find　a　proper
hiding　place　what　with　everything　going　to　hell　so　fast。　They　say　Brains　let　the　greenskins　find　him；
because　a　couple　more　steps　and　they　would’ve　stumbled　right　onto　Wildman　and　maybe　Bullseye。
He　gave　his　own　life　to　buy　the　rest　of　us　time。　Course；　he　came　out　firing。　I　have　to　confess；
sometimes　I　didn’t　have　much　time　for　old　Brains；　thought　he　yapped　too　much　when　he　should’ve
been　getting　on　with　it—but　the　way　the　others　tell　it；　he　would’ve　done　Marbo　proud　last　night。
Took　on　ten；　twelve　orks　by　his　lonesome；　and　stayed　standing　long　enough　for　the　others　to
retrench；　to　start　fighting　back。”
“What　happened？”　asked　Lorenzo。　“What　started　it；　I　mean？　We　were　almost　there；　almost　past
the　encampment；　and　then…”
“Oh　yeah；”　said　Woods；　screwing　his　face　up　into　a　scowl；　“I　almost　forgot　you　were　up　front；
missed　it　all。　I　bet　you　can　guess；　though。　I　bet　you　can　guess　who　was　brainless　enough　to　step　on
an　ork　trap；　blow　himself　right　up。”
“Mackenzie？”　Lorenzo　hazarded。　The　disdain　in　Woods’　voice　and　expression　had　been
something　of　a　giveaway。
“Mackenzie；”　he　confirmed。　“The　commissar。”
“I　wouldn’t　have　thought　even　he—”
“It　was　the　blue　light。　Came　up　on　us　all　unexpected　like。　I　felt　it　in　my　head　for　a　bit—just　a
second—like　it　was　scanning　me；　reading　my　mind；　then　it　moved　on。　Mackenzie…　I　figure　what
happened　was；　the　light　picked　on　the　weakest　of　us。　Mackenzie　got　up；　started　walking　towards　it
like　he　was　in　a　trance　or　something。　The　sergeant　tried　to　stop　him—brought　up　his　lasgun；　told
Mackenzie　he’d　shoot　him　dead　if　he　took　another　step；　though　I　don’t　know　why　he　cared；　can’t　say
I’d　have　shed　a　tear　if　Mackenzie　had　gone　on；　if　he’d　sunk　into　the　swamp　and　never　come　out
again。　But　Old　Hardhead　seemed　to　be　getting　through　to　him。　Mackenzie　just　froze；　and　he　was
looking　at　Old　Hardhead；　and　at　the　blue　light；　all　confused—and　it　was　Bullseye；　I　think；　who　saw
the　wire。　Mackenzie　was　standing　with　one　foot　in　front　of　it；　one　foot　behind。　God…Emperor　knows
how　he　hadn’t　tripped　it　already。　Old　Hardhead；　he　motioned　to　the　rest　of　us　to　get　back；　and　he
kept　talking　to　the　commissar；　all　quiet　and　calm。　Mackenzie；　he　was　listening；　he　could　see　the
sergeant　was　making　sense；　but　he　still　wanted　to　go　to　that　light；　you　could　tell。　He　kept　asking　why
he　should　trust　any　of　us。　He　talked　about　what　happened　at　the　river；　and　he　accused　the　sergeant　of
wanting　him　dead。　I　knew　we　were　in　trouble　right　then；　knew　he’d　bring　the　orks　down　on　us
eventually　even　if　he　didn’t　trip　that　wire。　Old　Hardhead　was　whispering；　trying　to　hush　the
commissar；　but　he　was　getting　hysterical。”
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“That’s　what　the　light　does　to　you；”　said　Lorenzo　sombrely。　“It　plays　on　your　hopes；　your　fears。
And　Mackenzie　was　already　so　afraid…”　He　fell　silent　as　he　realised　what　he’d　said。　He’d　admitted
to　a　weakness；　in　front　of　Woods　of　all　people—a　soldier　who；　if　he’d　ever　feared　anything；　would
certainly　not　have　confessed　to　it。
It　didn’t　seem　to　matter。　“Makes　sense；”　said　Woods。　“I　think；　deep　down；　Mackenzie　maybe
wanted　to　believe—he　wanted　to　be　convinced—but　that　light　was　just　too　damn　strong　for　him。”
“What　about　Braxton？”
“Give　him　his　due。”　Woods　conceded；　“he　tried。　He　crawled　forward；　put　himself　in　the　danger
zone；　just　so　he　could　talk　to　Mackenzie；　back　up　what　Old　Hardhead　was　saying。　But　as　soon　as　he
opened　his　mouth；　Mackenzie；　he　just…　it　was　like　he　freaked　out　good　and　proper。　He　accused
Braxton　of　betraying　him；　said　he　was　alone　now　and　he　wasn’t　going　to　listen　to　anyone　anymore。
He　closed　his　eyes；　put　his　hands　over　his　ears；　like　he　was　in　pain；　and　he　was　screaming　for
everyone　to　stop　talking；　to　leave　him　alone；　to　let　him　think。
“Well；　it　was　all　over　then；　of　course。　Braxton　started　forward—I　don’t　know　why；　like　maybe
he　thought　he　could　drag　Mackenzie　to　safety　or　something—but　the　commissar　had　made　up　his
mind。”
“Or　rather。”　Lorenzo　murmured；　“the　light　had　made　it　up　for　him。”
“And　the　rest；　like　Commissar　Mackenzie；　is　history。”
“And　Braxton？”
“Oh；　he’s　alright。　Old　Hardhead　grabbed　hold　of　him；　pulled　him　back；　damn　near　got　himself
killed　in　the　process。　Now；　that—that　would’ve　been　a　tragedy！”
“I　shouldn’t　have　stopped　him；”　said　Lorenzo。　“Sharkbait。　At　the　river。　He　would’ve　killed
Mackenzie；　but　I　thought…　I　don’t　know　what　I　thought。　If　I’d　kept　quiet；　if　I’d　let　him…　Sharkbait
would　still　be　alive。　And　Brains。”
“Doesn’t　work　like　that；”　said　Woods；　with　more　understanding　than　Lorenzo　would　have
expected　from　him。　“No　one　made　Sharkbait　do　anything　he　didn’t　want　to　do。　You　made　him　think；
is　all。　He　let　Mackenzie　off　the　hook　for　the　s