Death World(科幻战争)-第7部分

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adult。　Lorenzo　had　been　taught　to　defend　himself　with　a　knife　before　he　could　walk。　By　the　age　of
eight；　Catachan　children　were　expected　to　be　able　to　tame　a　wild　grox；　a　harsh　lesson　that　some　did
not　survive；　but　such　was　the　nature　of　life　on　a　deathworld。　You　could　be　forged　in　its　jungle　heat；
or　you　could　wither　and　die　in　it。
Beneath　Guardsman　Braxton’s　words　was　an　unspoken　plea　for　help。　But　the　men　of　Lorenzo’s
world—like　those　of　all　deathworlds　across　the　Imperium—obeyed　only　one　law：　that　of　the　jungle。
Survival　of　the　fittest。
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CHAPTER　FOUR
It　was　another　clear　day。　The　sun　blazed　bright　and　hot；　the　morning　temperature　far　in　excess　of
that　of　the　previous　evening；　the　air　bereft　of　breeze。　Most　of　the　Validians　had　been　forced　out　of
their　stuffy　huts；　and　some　were　evidently　finding　the　heat　uncomfortable。　The　Catachans；　however；
revelled　in　it。　It　opened　Lorenzo’s　pores　and　invigorated　him。
The　clearing　was　full　of　sweaty　bodies；　moving　in　time　to　barked　commands。　Jungle　Fighters
were　forming　up　in　their　squads　and　moving　out。　The　men　of　A　Platoon　were　arming　themselves
with　autocannons　and　heavy　bolters；　and　tuning　up　the　three　Sentinels　that　would　precede　them　into
battle。
Mackenzie　was　in　the　thick　of　the　activity；　dispensing　words　here　and　there　to　the　sergeants；
complaining　repeatedly　about　the　Catachans’　lack　of　a　formal　uniform。　“Uniforms　get　damaged。”
Colonel　Graves　told　him；　“when　you’re　out　in　the　jungle。”　But　it　didn’t　seem　to　calm　Mackenzie’s
ire。
Greiss　would　normally　have　had　his　squad　doing　circuits　or　squat…thrusts　by　now；　instead；　he　sat
with　his　knees　to　his　chest；　and　snarled　at　anyone　who　dared　come　near　him。　Muldoon　had　acquired
the　dyes　of　some　indigenous　plants；　and　was　adapting　his　body　camouflage　to　the　local　shapes　and
colours。　A　few　other　Catachans　had　followed　his　lead；　Myers　and　Storm　among　them；　glad　to　let　the
sun　caress　their　skin。　Lorenzo；　however；　was　no　artist；　he　would　have　to　make　do　with　his　heavy
jacket；　and　with　a　few　streaks　of　dubbin　across　his　face。
Mackenzie　was　annoyed　to　find　the　squad　not　standing　to　attention；　awaiting　his　inspection；　he
made　his　displeasure　known　to　Greiss；　who　shrugged　and　climbed　to　his　feet　in　his　own　time。　The
Catachans　fell　in　sloppily；　making　their　feelings　for　the　young　officer　clear。　In　turn；　Mackenzie
griped　about　the　absence　of　regulation　shoulder　guards　with　identifying　numbers；　but　there　wasn’t
much　he　could　do　about　it　at　this　stage。　He　gave　a　stern　speech　that　was　mostly　a　reworking　of　the
previous　day’s—“whip　you　rabble　into　shape”；　“smartest　Guardsmen　in　the　Imperium”　and　so
forth—with　a　few　clichés　added：　“When　I　say　‘jump’…　I　expect　you　to　crawl　on　your　bellies　over
broken　glass…”
“We’re　facing　a　four…day　journey　together；”　concluded　the　commissar。　“Eight　days；　for　those
lucky　enough　to　make　the　return　trip。　It’ll　go　much　easier　if　we　all　pull　together。”　He　produced　a
sheet　of　paper；　then；　and　began　a　roll　call。　“Sergeant　Greiss。”
“Yes！”
“Yes；　what？”
“Yes；　sir！”　said　Greiss　with　a　sneer。
“Trooper　Armstrong。”
Patch　Armstrong　answered　to　his　name；　and　Mackenzie　went　through　the　others；　giving　each
trooper　in　turn　an　appraising　look　as　he　committed　his　face　to　memory。　Dougan；　Storm；　Myers；
Donovits；　Muldoon；　Woods；　finally；　Lorenzo　and　Landon。
Braxton；　of　course；　was　already　well　known　to　the　commissar。　The　Validian　had　found　an　illfitting
camouflage　jacket　in　the　stores；　and　was　looking　uncomfortable。　Mackenzie　was　in
camouflage　too；　though　he　had　retained　his　peaked　cap。　It　was　a　little　too　large　for　him；　but　his
jutting　ears　kept　it　from　sliding　down。　“Do　you　think　it’s　a　good　idea　to　be　going　into　this　with　an
eagle…shaped　target　on　your　head；　sir？”　Greiss　asked；　with　measured　disdain。
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“It’s　a　symbol　of　authority；　sergeant；”　snarled　Mackenzie。　“You’ll　learn。　By　the　time　I’m
finished　with　you；　you’ll　all　learn。”
They　moved　out；　at　the　commissar’s　insistence；　at　a　quick　march　in　two　ranks　of　five；　with
Greiss　leading　the　way。　Mackenzie　brought　up　the　rear；　occasionally　shouting　orders。
They　broke　step；　however；　as　they　crossed　the　tree　line—and　Lorenzo　noted　that　Mackenzie
worked　his　way　into　the　centre　of　the　group；　so　that　there　would　always　be　a　Catachan　between　him
and　any　potential　threat。　The　commissar　had　a　rough　sketched　map；　which　he　kept　to　himself；　and　a
compass。　He　kept　the　squad　moving　on　a　bearing　of　approximately　twenty…five　degrees。　“We’re
taking　a　circuitous　route；”　he　explained　when　questioned；　“to　avoid　a　small　ork　encampment　to　the
north…west　of　here。”
“I’m　sure　we　could　take　’em；　sir；”　offered　Woods。
“I’m　sure　we　could；　trooper；”　said　Mackenzie　icily；　“but　as　I　explained　at　the　briefing　last　night；
this　is　a　stealth　mission。　A　single　ork　gets　wind　of　our　presence　in　this　area　and　lives　to　tell　of　it；　and
we　may　as　well　pack　up　and　go　home—because　our　chances　of　getting　within　shooting　distance　of
their　warboss　will　be　zero。”
“I　still　say　we　could　take　’em；”　muttered　Woods　resentfully。　But　Mackenzie　was　right；　and　he
knew　it。
The　jungle　closed　in　above　them；　sparing　them　the　fiercest　of　the　sun’s　rays；　though　the　air　was
still　sweltering。　Braxton　was　sweating；　wiping　his　damp　forehead　with　his　sleeve　every　few　steps。
The　burnt　odour　lingered；　and　the　Catachans’　feet　crunched　on　dead；　blackened　leaves。　This　area
had　been　torched—and　recently—but　with　little　effect。　Some　of　the　plants　and　trees　seemed　to　have
been　growing　here　for　years。
Their　progress　was　punctuated　by　cracks　of　las…fire；　whenever　a　jungle　lizard　was　sighted。　Myers
and　Storm　had　warned　everyone　of　the　creatures’　chameleonic　properties；　and　Lorenzo　had　added
the　information　he’d　received　from　Braxton；　so　the　whole　squad　was　on　the　alert。　Out　loud；　each
man　swore　he　would　never　end　his　days　like　Braxton’s　ill…fated　friend；　pleading　for　the　mercy　of　a
quick　death。　Privately；　Lorenzo　knew—as　the　others　must　have　known—that　stronger　men　than　he
had　been　broken　by　such　pain　as　only　a　deathworld　could　inflict。
In　time；　the　discharges　became　less　frequent；　as　if　the　lizards　had　learned　from　their　mistakes
and　were　keeping　their　distance。　Lorenzo　didn’t　imagine　for　a　second；　though；　that　they　had　seen　the
last　of　them。
That　burnt　smell　was　fading。　The　jungle　grass　was　growing　taller　and　the　trees　more　closely
together；　letting　less　sunlight　in　through　their　branches。　A　pink…headed；　acid…spitting　plant　reared　up
beside　the　Catachans　without　warning；　but　Myers　blasted　it　to　pieces　before　it　could　open　its　mouth。
Lorenzo　felt　goose　bumps　on　his　flesh；　but　it　was　a　pleasant　feeling。
He　seemed　to　have　been　waiting　a　long　time　for　this：　to　plunge　into　the　darkest　heart　of　the
jungle。　To　face　Rogar　III　on　its　own　turf。
They　were　about　two　hours　out　when　Braxton　reported　to　the　nearest　Jungle　Fighters—Myers　and
Storm—that　he　thought　they　were　being　followed。　Their　only　response　was　a　pair　of　knowing　grins；
so　Braxton　called　out　to　Commissar　Mackenzie。　“Sir！　Sir；　I　think　we’re　being　followed。”
The　young　officer　called　a　halt；　and　the　squad　stood　silent　for　a　minute　or　two。　Mackenzie
frowned。　“Anyone　hear　anything？”
“No；　sir；”　murmured　the　Catachans。
“It　was　up　there；　sir；”　said　Braxton；　pointing；　“in　the　trees。”
“You’re　imagining　things；　Braxton；”　decided　Mackenzie；　though　his　voice　betrayed　a　doubt。
Lorenzo　caught　an　aside　from　Storm　to　Myers：　“Looks　like　the　commissar’s　radar　dish　ears　are
just　ornamental；　then。”
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“Actually；”　said　Sergeant　Greiss；　with　no　little　satisfaction；　“there　is　someone　stalking　us。　The
rest　of　us　have　been　aware　of　it　since　we　left　the　clearing。”
Mackenzie　turned　pink。　“What？　Then　why　didn’t　you　speak　up？”
“Because　he’s　on　our　side。　In　fact；　we’re　honoured　to　have　him　watching　our　backs。”
The　commissar　looked　none　the　wiser；　and　fumbled　with　his　list　of　names。　“There’s　no　one
missing；”　he　said。
“This　man　works　alone；”　said　Dougan。
Mackenzie　scowled。　“That　is　not　acceptable。　This　offensive　has　been　planned　to　the　last　detail；
and　I　will　not　have　those　plans　jeopardised　by　a　maverick。”　He　shouted　into　the　jungle：　“You；
trooper。　Come　here；　now！”
Dougan　cleared　his　throat。　“Should　you　be　yelling　like　that；　sir？　If　there　are　ork　patrols　or
gretchin　in　the　area—”
The　commissar　ignored　him。　“Trooper；　my　name　is　Commissar　Mackenzie；　and　I　am　in
command　here。　I　demand　you　show　yourself　immediately。　You　have　ten　seconds。　If　I　can’t　see　your
face　by　then；　you　will　be　facing　court…martial！”
The　echoes　of　his　words　were　soaked　up　by　the　foliage。　In　the　distance；　a　bird　took　flight。　There
was　no　other　sound。
“Could　be　out　of　earshot　by　now；　sir；”　offered　Myers。
Mackenzie　rounded　on　the　Catachans；　clenching　his　fists。　“If　anyone　sees　or　hears　a　trace　of　that
man　again；　I　wish　to　be　informed　of　it　immediately；　do　you　hear　me？　Immediately！”
They　moved　on。
Dougan　dropped　back　in　the　marching　order　until　he　was　alongside　Braxton。　He　gave　the
Validian　an　approving　nod。　“Mostly；　if　Sly　Marbo　doesn’t　want　to　be　seen　or　heard；　he　isn’t—
sometimes　not　even　by　those　of　us　who　know　he’s　around。　I’m　impressed。”
An　hour　after　that；　the　jungle　became　so　dense　that　the　Catachans　had　to　draw　their　knives　and　cut
their　way　through。　Armstrong　and　Muldoon　took　point　to　begin　with；　Armstrong’s　devil　claw　and
Muldoon’s　sleek；　black　night　reaper　hacking　at　stinging　plants　and　thick　purple　creepers。
All　of　a　sudden；　Muldoon　let　out　a　warning　cry；　and　a　cloud　of　insects　blossomed　from　the
undergrowth　at　his　feet。　Each　was　the　length　of　one　of　Lorenzo’s　fingers；　with　hairy　black　bodies
and　gossamer　wings。　Armstrong　hopped　out　of　the　way　of　the　swarm；　but　it　latched　onto　Muldoon；
following　him　with　an　angry；　high…pitched　whine　as　he　tried　to　back　away　from　it。　He　swung　his
arms　furiously；　flattening　several　insects　against　the　nearest　tree；　his　blade　slicing　through　two　more。
The　rest　of　the　squad　had　withdrawn　out　of　reach。　Lorenzo　brought　up　his　lasgun；　squinting
along　its　sights　until　he　knew　he　could　fire　without　hitting　Muldoon。　His　las…fire　fried　several
insects；　as　did　simultaneous　shots　from　Greiss；　Woods　and　Donovits。　But　there　were　too　many　of
them。　The　cloud　seemed　hardly　to　have　lessened　in　size。
Myers　and　Storm　had　flung　their　packs　to　the　ground；　and　they　pulled　out　the　constituent　parts　of
a　heavy　flamer。　They　clicked　them　together；　then　Storm　steadied　the　bulky　weapon　while　Myers
aimed　it　at　the　swarm。　The　first　explosion　of　fire　singed　the　ends　of　Muldoon’s　hair；　and　lit　up　one
flank　of　the　insect　cloud；　sending　them　streaking　to　the　ground　as　dying　embers。　Muldoon　hurled
himself　face…first　into　the　undergrowth；　giving　Myers　a　clearer　second　shot　that　took　out　the　bulk　of
the　remaining　swarm。
There　were　still　more　than　a　dozen　insects　crawling　over　Muldoon；　but　he　rolled　and　crushed
those　that　couldn’t　take　flight　in　time。　The　others　rushed　to　stamp　on　the　rest；　or　to　skewer　them　with
blades。　Myers　and　Storm　aimed　one　final；　precautionary　blast　of　flame　at　the　ground　from　which　the
swarm　had　risen。　Then　the　Catachans　surrounded　Muldoon　where　he　lay　on　his　back。　He　blinked　up
at　them；