Gunheads(科幻战争)-第13部分

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We’ll　die　here；　but　we’ll　fight　the　bastards　to　the　last　bloody　man。　Damn　you　deViers！　I　hope　you
get　your　bloody　glory。
“Artillery；”　someone　shouted　over　the　vox。　“Ork　artillery　coming　in　from　the　north。　Get　down！”
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Stromm　heard　a　nerve…rattling　whistle　on　the　air；　growing　to　a　shriek。
Closer。　Closer。　Damn　it；　that’s　going　to　hit　right　on　top…
Both　he　and　Kassel　threw　themselves　to　the　ground。　Great　plumes　of　sand　and　dust　spurted　into
the　air　between　the　Cadians　and　the　orks；　and　the　air　shook　with　a　deafening　boom。　Stromm　found
himself　still　breathing。　No　fatalities。　It　was　a　ranging　shot；　but　the　next　would　bring　death　down　on
the　shrinking　Cadian　force。
“That’s　them　bringing　up　the　big　guns；　sir；”　shouted　Kassel　as　he　scrambled　to　his　feet。
“You　don’t　say；　Hans！”　barked　Stromm。　“Tell　those　spacer　runts　in　the　las…turrets　that　I　want
focused　fire　on　that　artillery。　Those　Navy　dogs　are　the　only　ones　with　a　clear　line　of　sight。　Do　it；
man！”
Kassel　plucked　the　mouthpiece　of　his　back…mounted　vox…caster　from　the　clip　on　his　belt；　barked
out　the　colonel’s　orders　in　a　clear；　authoritative　voice　and　waited　for　confirmation。　He　needn’t　have
bothered。　The　turret…gunners　atop　the　crumpled　drop…ship　were　already　traversing　their　turrets　to
zero　in　on　several　massive　ork　machines　—　self…propelled　guns　that　were　emerging　from　a　dust
cloud　about　fifteen　hundred　metres　away。　The　SPGs　had　short；　fat　barrels　that　sacrificed　accuracy
for　a　higher　explosive　payload。　Their　construction　appeared　so　slapdash　they　looked　as　likely　to
blow　themselves　apart　as　to　flatten　their　enemies。　By　rights；　they　shouldn’t　have　worked　at　all；　but；
as　ever　with　greenskin　machines；　their　performance　defied　their　appearance。　With　great　coughs　of
flame　and　ground…shaking　booms；　they　launched　another　deadly　salvo；　this　time　aimed　squarely　at
the　las…turrets　that　had　begun　to　open　fire　on　them。
Most　of　the　heavy　artillery　shells　went　wide　of　the　mark；　whining　straight　past　the　wreck　and
exploding　in　the　sand　on　the　far　side。　Most；　but　not　all。　Two　struck　the　hull；　packed　with　so　much
explosive　that；　between　them；　they　ripped　the　super　structure　apart。　The　pressure　wave　that　sped　out
from　the　twin　blasts　pulverised　the　turrets　and　the　men　inside　them。
Stromm　stood　gaping　for　a　split　second　at　the　terrible　destruction；　and　then　shielded　his　head　as　a
shower　of　burning　debris　cascaded　towards　him。　By　the　Emperor’s　grace；　neither　he　nor　Kassel　were
struck；　but　a　young　trooper　on　the　right　fell　without　screaming；　his　head　caved　in　by　a　turnip…sized
chunk　of　heavy　armaplas。
“Try　to　raise　them；”　Stromm　yelled　at　Kassel；　already　knowing　in　his　heart　that　it　was　futile。
Kassel　tried。　Nothing。
“Again；　Hans。　We　can’t　lose　them　now。　If　they　can’t　knock　out　those　SPGs　we　won’t　last
another　minute！”
“Nothing；”　said　Kassel。　He　tried　a　third　time　with　the　same　result。　“They’re　gone；　sir。”
“For　Throne’s　sake！　The　next　bloody　salvo　will　do　for　us。　Can’t　we　get　any　of　our　heavy
weapons　on　them？　What　about　our　mortar　teams？　They’re　all　we　have　left　that　doesn’t　need　line　of
sight。”
Kassel　immediately　tried　to　raise　the　mortar　teams　on　the　vox；　but　there　was　no　reply；　just
hissing　static　and　the　sure　knowledge　that　more　men　had　died。
“Sir；　we　need　to　get　you　away　from　here。　Those　green…skin　gun…crews　won’t　take　long　to　reload。
We　should　get　you　into　one　of　the　Chimeras。　The　Kasrkin　might　be　able　to　open　a　corridor。”
“If　you　suggest　that　to　me　ever　again；　Hans；　I’ll　pistol…whip　you。　Do　you　hear　me？　You　should
know　better　by　now。　I’ve　never　run　from　a　field　of　battle　in　my　life。”
“I…　Sorry；　sir。”
“Sod　your　apologies；　man。　Just　keep　shooting。　We’ll　make　a　proper　accounting　of　ourselves
before　the　end。　Get　the　word　out。　The　Fighting　98th　makes　its　last　stand　for　the　honour　of　Cadia！”
“The　Fighting　98th　forever；　sir！”　said　Kassel；　thrusting　out　his　chest。　Determination　replaced　the
fear　in　his　eyes。　If　they　were　to　die；　it　would　be　as　only　Cadian　men　could　die；　strong　and　true；　and
unrelenting　to　the　very　last。　The　Emperor　would　welcome　their　souls　to　his　glorious　hall。　Their
places　at　his　table　would　be　assured。
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The　outer　defences　were　swarming　with　xenos；　all　jostling　for　a　chance　to　revel　in　the　slaughter
of　Stromm’s　men。　They　pushed　and　shoved　each　other　for　better　position；　desperate　to　claim　more
kills　than　their　fellows。　They　were　so　frantic　with　battle…lust　that　savage　brawls　began　to　break　out
here　and　there　among　their　ranks。　Stromm　saw　one　of　the　beasts　—　spike…helmed　and　heavily
armoured；　its　dark　skin　textured　like　burned　steak　—　turn　to　a　marginally　smaller　monstrosity　on　its
right　and　begin　wrestling　with　it；　trying　to　prise　a　large　axe　from　its　grasp。　The　smaller　ork　resisted
until　the　larger　rammed　the　point　of　a　huge；　rust…pitted　knife　right　into　its　belly　and　unzipped　it　from
sternum　to　crotch。　Thick　blood　poured　out；　followed　by　a　tumble　of　looping　intestines　that　glistened
pink　as　they　slid　out　onto　the　sand。　Then；　with　the　newly　won　axe　in　hand；　the　big　one　bellowed　a
battle　cry　and　continued　its　advance；　eager　to　enter　close…quarters　combat　where　it　could　engage　in
bloody　slaughter。
It　took　six　men　firing　lasguns　at　close　range　to　put　that　bastard　down。
By　Terra；　thought　Stromm；　they’re　insane！　Death　means　nothing　to　them。　Whether　we　have　men
like　Yarrick　or　not　—　whether　we　had　a　thousand　Yarricks；　a　million　even　—　how　can　humanity
hope　to　hold　back　the　savage　tide？
In　Stromm’s　earpiece；　the　vox…chatter　from　his　surviving　platoon　leaders　had　degenerated　into　a
cacophony　of　panicked　shouts。　The　gap　was　closing　ever　further。　Once　the　fighting　went　hand…tohand；
it　would　be　over　for　the　Cadians。　Nothing　could　save　them　then。
“We’re　losing　the　inner　defences。　The　bolter…nests　are　being　overrun！”
“What　do　we　do？　Fall　back　to　the　drop…ship？　They’re　hammering　it　with　artillery！”
“I　need　heavy　weapons　support　on　our　right　flank；　warp　damn　it！　Get　me　mortars。　Get　me　a
heavy　bolter。　Anything！”
Stromm　heard　the　words　as　if　from　a　great　distance。　A　strange　and　unexpected　sense　of　calm　had
descended　on　him。　All　around；　the　air　was　churning　with　noise　and　heat；　whining　bullets　and
cracking　las…fire；　but；　in　his　mind；　everything　was　supremely　clear。　The　end　of　his　lifelong　duty　to
the　Emperor　was　at　hand。
One　more　time；　he　allowed　his　thoughts　to　return　to　his　family　up　there　on　The　Incandescent；
and　said　a　silent　prayer　to　the　Emperor：
May　my　wife　remember　me　proudly；　and　may　our　son’s　achievements　exceed　my　own。　To　the
Emperor’s　side；　I　commend　the　souls　of　my　men；　and　I　ask　Saint　Josmane　to　be　our　guide。
“Hans；”　he　said；　“the　regimental　banner。”
“It’s　here；　sir。”
“Then　unfurl　it；　soldier；　and　give　it　to　me。”
“At　once；　sir；”　said　Kassel；　and　leapt　to　the　task。
Stromm　holstered　his　smoking　hellpistol　and　accepted　the　heavy　banner　from　his　adjutant。
Gripping　its　haft　with　both　hands；　he　stepped　forward；　calling　to　his　men　as　he　waved　it　majestically
in　the　hot；　dusty　afternoon　air。
“Rally　to　me；　Cadians；”　he　shouted　over　the　din　of　battle。　“Rally　to　me；　troopers！　No　more
falling　back。　Here　and　now；　we　make　our　stand！”
The　banner　was　a　striking　icon　of　gold　and　red。　The　pillared　symbol　of　the　Cadian　gate
dominated　its　centre　and；　on　either　side　of　it；　the　image　of　a　grinning　skull　held　a　single　stalk　of
wheat　between　its　teeth。　The　wheat…stalk　symbolised　the　regiment’s　glorious　victory　at　Ruzarch
Fields　during　the　infamous　Battle　of　Vogen　nearly　half　a　century　before。　Had　the　regiment　survived
General　deViers’　Golgothan　expedition；　another　symbol　of　honour　would　have　been　added：　a
stylised　cloud　and　lightning　bolt。
The　men　close　enough　to　hear　his　voice　turned　to　see　their　colonel　standing　there；　the　banner
snapping　and　fluttering　as　he　waved　it　over　his　head。　He　looked　like　an　image　from　a　propaganda
poster；　and　their　spirits　burned　with　fresh　pride。　Stromm　could　see　it　as　he　looked　into　their　eyes。　He
saw　the　fires　of　determination　surging　there；　the　will　to　die　fighting。
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“Honour　and　glory！”　shouted　a　sergeant　off　to　the　right。
“Honour　and　glory！”　bellowed　his　squad。
Something　changed　in　the　air；　building　up　like　a　massive　electrical　charge。　Even　the　wounded
seemed　suddenly　whole　again；　though　their　bodies　still　bled。　They　turned　from　the　sight　of　their
colonel　and　his　banner；　raised　lasgun　stocks　to　armoured　shoulders；　and　met　the　orks　with　renewed
ferocity；　determined　to　dispatch　as　many　of　the　slavering　beasts　as　possible　before　they　were
overcome　for　good。
Push　through　your　pain；　Stromm　willed　them。　Just　a　bit　further；　a　bit　longer　so　we　know　the
Emperor’s　eyes　are　on　us。
Only　a　few　hundred　metres；　now；　until　the　orks　were　in　among　them。　Mere　moments　until　the
fighting　became　hand…to…hand。　At　that　range；　the　greenskins’　massive　physiologies　would　allow
them　to　rip　through　the　Cadians　like　wet　paper。　Only　the　mighty　Kasrkin　storm　troopers；　of　which
Stromm　had　started　with　a　single　company　and　now　had　less　than　three　full　platoons；　had　any
chance　in　close　quarters；　and；　even　then；　not　much　of　one。
“Fix　bayonets；”　ordered　Stromm。　Kassel　repeated　the　order　over　the　vox。　He　might　as　well　have
said　“get　ready　to　die”。　Against　orks；　it　was　essentially　the　same　thing。
The　call　was　taken　up　by　officers　and　sergeants　all　along　the　line　as　the　gap　shrank　to　forty
metres；　then　thirty。　Las…fire　blazed　out　in　a　last；　desperate　bid　to　make　a　difference　before　the　clash
of　blade　on　blade。　Plenty　of　orks　went　down；　struck　in　the　face　with　lethal；　short…range　blasts。　But；　if
this　bought　the　Cadians　any　time　at　all；　it　was　mere　seconds。
The　ork　artillery　was　rolling　forward；　too；　unable　to　fire　on　the　Cadians　now　that　their　own
infantry　had　closed　the　gap。　The　greenskin　gunnery　crews；　in　the　manner　of　all　their　race；　were
desperate　to　get　closer　to　the　centre　of　the　murder；　to　stain　their　hands　with　the　blood　of　dying　men。
For　this；　they　kept　their　machines　rolling　in。
Twenty　metres　from　Stromm；　a　massive　ork　with　a　broken　tusk　hacked　one　trooper　to　the　ground
with　its　cleaver；　shoved　roughly　past　another；　and　raced　directly　forwards。　It　was　coming　straight　for
the　colonel；　attracted　by　the　bright；　snapping　banner　above　his　head。　As　it　closed；　it　raised　its
massive　stubber　with　a　single　hand　and　fired　a　burst　that　caught　the　colonel　on　the　right　shoulder。
His　tough　armaplas　body…armour　was　enough　to　deflect　the　shot；　but　the　impact　threw　him　from　his
feet。　He　landed　on　the　red　sand　with　a　grunt。　The　force　of　the　bullet’s　impact　had　broken　his　arm；
and　the　banner　fell　from　his　hands。
Lieutenant　Kassel　moved　in　a　blur；　catching　the　banner　as　it　fell；　hoisting　it　high；　desperate　not
to　dishonour　the　regiment　by　allowing　its　sanctified　cloth　to　touch　the　ground。　He　stabbed　the　base
of　the　haft　into　the　sand；　braced　it　with　one　hand；　and　crouched　by　his　colonel；　yelling　his　name。
“Are　you　alive；　sir？　Speak　to　me；　colonel！　Please！”
Groaning　in　agony　and　clutching　his　shattered　arm；　Stromm　rolled；　and；　with　Kassel’s　eager　aid；
struggled　to　his　feet。　He　looked　around　to　see　men　forming　a　defensive　line　around　him；　fighting
back　desperately　with　bayonets；　pistols；　sharpened　entre