Gunheads(科幻战争)-第21部分

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bodies　of　good　Cadian　men　were　being　blasted　apart　to　rain　back　down　to　the　ground　in　ragged
pieces。　Scores　of　them　were　dying　with　every　lethal　shot；　and　the　greenskins　on　foot　were　using　the
cover　of　the　artillery　fire　to　bridge　the　gap；　hungry　for　the　slaughter　that　would　take　place　at　close
quarters。　Elsewhere；　Vinnemann’s　tanks　were　holding　their　own　against　the　technically　inferior　but
far　more　numerous　ork　machines。　Smoking　wrecks　littered　the　land；　providing　cover　for　small
groups　of　terrified　men　who　had　lost　their　nerve。　Through　his　field　glasses；　Bergen　saw　one　such
group　huddled　together；　eyes　shut　tight；　hands　pressed　over　their　ears。　It　was　hard　to　see　through　all
the　smoke　and　fire；　but　they　were　clearly　green。　New　meat。
Where　in　the　blasted　warp　was　their　sergeant？
If　their　regimental　commissar　noticed　them　huddled　there；　frozen　in　fear　and　panic；　they
wouldn’t　live　to　become　old　meat。　Executions　for　cowardice　were　swift　and　brutal。　There　were　no
appeals。　Bergen　didn’t　like　executions；　but　it　was　the　way　of　the　Guard：　do　your　duty　and　die　well；
or　run　from　it　and　die　without　honour。
He　pitied　them。　It　was　easy　to　lose　your　balance　when　everything　around　you　was　going　to　hell。
He　voxed　Colonel　Graves。　“Division　to　Infantry　Command。　It　looks　like　some　of　your　rookies　have
lost　their　officer。　Check　those　burning　tanks　on　your　ten　o’clock；　Graves。　Get　someone　over　there。
Get　them　back　in　the　fight。　If　the　orks　find　them　first　they’ll　be　massacred。”
Colonel　Graves’　response　was　brief　and　affirmative。　Seconds　later；　Bergen　saw　a　squad　push　left
and　join　the　huddled　men。　His　attention　was　diverted；　however；　by　a　high…pitched　whine　that　rose
from　the　right。　He　had　heard　its　like　before；　though　on　regrettably　rare　occasions。　Hearing　it　now
caused　a　thrill　to　run　through　him。　He　immediately　panned　his　glasses　towards　Vinnemann’s
Shadowsword　and　saw　a　white　glow　forming　at　the　muzzle　of　her　huge　cannon。　Knowing　what　was
to　come；　he　turned　his　eyes　towards　the　black　artillery　pieces　by　the　outpost　gates。　Over…muscled
greenskin　gunnery　crews　were　hefting　shells　the　size　of　oil　drums　into　the　breech　of　each　huge　gun；
readying　to　pulverise　the　advancing　Cadian　lines　once　again。
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There　was　an　almighty　crack；　like　a　clap　of　thunder；　so　close　that　Bergen　felt　it　resonate　deep　in
his　bones。　Everything　in　the　area　outside　the　outpost’s　main　gates　was　engulfed　in　blinding　white
light。　Bergen　thought　he　saw　the　shot　hit　the　row　of　greenskin　war　machines　at　an　angle；　cutting
across　them　diagonally；　but　he　could　only　watch　for　a　fraction　of　a　second。　Looking　directly　at　the
beam　was　painful；　and　he　squeezed　his　eyes　shut。
A　glowing　afterimage　of　the　Volcano’s　lethal　beam　remained　behind　his　eyelids。　When　he
opened　his　eyes　again；　he　saw　that　a　good　number　of　the　enemy　machines　had　ceased　to　exist。
Bubbling　pools　of　liquid　metal　were　the　only　trace　left。　Others；　though　not　struck　directly；　would　no
longer　be　firing　on　his　men。　Their　crews　had　been　roasted　to　ash。　The　raw　heat　of　the　Volcano　beam
striking　the　neighbouring　guns　was　simply　too　intense　to　survive。
The　Cadian　infantry　had　seen　it　all　happen。　A　great　cheer　sounded　from　the　battlefield　as　their
spirits　were　lifted；　and　they　surged　forward；　inspired　by　the　incredible　display　of　power　they　had
witnessed　from　their　own　side。　Bergen　could　feel　it　on　the　air；　the　special　moment　that　every
commander　awaited　so　anxiously。　It　was　the　beginning　of　the　end。
He　voxed　Vinnemann。　“Division　to　Armour　Command。　Hell　of　a　shot；　Kochatkis。　Hell　of　a　shot。
That　showed　the　filthy　savages。”
Vinnemann　answered　through　gasping　breaths。　“Thank　you；　sir。　Great　to　fire　up　the　old　Volcano
cannon　again　after　so　long。　She’s　drained　the　tanks；　though。　And　we　lost　two　capacitors。　We’ll　need
a　Trojan　over　here　for　a　refuel。”
“Are　you　all　right；　man？　You　sound…”
“Don’t　worry　about　me；　sir；”　replied　Vinnemann。　“It’s　just　the　usual。　I’ll　deal　with　it　when　this　is
over。”
Bergen　was　scanning　the　field　of　combat；　watching　his　forces　surge　forward；　taking　a　murderous
toll　on　the　foe。
“You　won’t　have　to　wait　long；　Kochatkis。　Our　lads　are　really　pressing　forward　now。　You’ve
inspired　them；　by　Terra。　They’re　cutting　into　the　ork　lines　like　a　bayonet　through　butter。”
It　was　no　lie。　The　greenskins’　brute　strength　and　instinct　for　battle　simply　weren’t　enough　to
hold　off　the　well…coordinated　Imperial　forces　any　longer。
Within　the　hour；　the　walls　of　Karavassa　were　breached。
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CHAPTER　NINE
Gunfire　still　stuttered　here　and　there　along　Karavassa’s　narrow　streets；　but　the　sounds　of　battle　were
little　more　than　faint　echoes　of　the　madness　and　bloodshed　that　had　now　passed。　The　outpost　had
been　retaken。　Bergen　had　achieved　his　objective。　General　deViers　had　the　first　of　the　positions　that
would　defend　his　supply　and　transport　routes　between　Hadron　Base　and　his　intended　destination　in
the　east。
One　of　Colonel　Marrenburg’s　mechanised　platoons　had　found　and　killed　the　ork　leader；　an
abomination　of　preposterous　size　and　musculature；　while　securing　the　old　Imperial　communications
building　at　the　heart　of　the　outpost。　Bergen　had　been　invited　to　verify　this　as　soon　as　the　area　was
judged　clear　of　significant　threats。　Now　he　stood　in　a　broad；　low…ceilinged　room；　looking　down　on
the　body；　marvelling　at　the　size　of　the　creature　that　lay　motionless　on　the　stone　floor　at　his　feet。　The
smell　from　it　was　overpowering；　like　stale　sweat　and　rotting　garbage。
He　judged　the　fallen　warboss　to　be　at　least　two　and　a　half　metres　tall；　and　not　much　less　from
shoulder　to　shoulder　if　one　included　the　hunks　of　iron　plate　that　had　been　bolted　together　to　form　its
crude　armour。　It　would　have　needed　to　hunch　over　just　to　fit　inside　the　building；　but　then；　orks
tended　to　hunch　anyway　due　to　the　massive　slabs　of　overdeveloped　muscle　that　covered　their　bodies。
There　was　a　poorly　painted　skull　and　dagger　design　on　its　angular　breastplate；　the　symbol　of
whatever　clan　the　foul　wretch　had　lorded　over。　Bergen　didn’t　recognise　the　glyph。
“Not　the　best　looking　bastard　I’ve　met；　sir；”　said　Colonel　Marrenburg。　He　stepped　forward；
stopping　at　Bergen’s　side。
“He’s　no　charmer；　Edwyn；”　Bergen　replied；　“that’s　for　sure。　Are　we　certain　this　one　is　the
leader？”
“It’s　always　the　biggest；　isn’t　it？”　said　Marrenburg。　“He　had　a　bodyguard　around　him；　too。　Lost
eleven　men　taking　him　and　his　guards　down。”　The　colonel　kicked　the　dead　ork’s　thick　forearm　in
contempt。　Bergen　watched　the　huge　lifeless　hand　flop　on　the　floor。　The　creature’s　thick　fingers
looked　like　they　could　have　crushed　a　man’s　bones　to　powder。　“Made　him　pay　in　the　end；　though；”
said　Marrenburg。　“Mind　if　I　smoke；　sir？”
“Go　ahead；”　said　Bergen。　“Maybe　it’ll　cover　the　stink。”
“We’ll　have　this　place　cleaned　out　in　no　time；　sir；”　replied　Marrenburg　as　he　pulled　a　packet　of
smokes　from　his　breast　pocket。　“Offer　you　one？”
“No；　thanks。”
“Sorry；　sir；”　said　Marrenburg　with　a　grin。　“I　always　forget　you　don’t。　Anyway；　if　you’re　done
looking　at　this　one；　the　enginseers　are　waiting　to　set　up　some　kind　of　equipment。　Don’t　suppose
they’ve　come　up　with　a　solution　to　the　long…range　vox　problem；　do　you？”
Bergen　turned　from　the　dead　ork。　“In　a　roundabout　way；　I　suppose　they　have。　The　tech…priests
have　been　laying　cables　under　the　sand　all　the　way　here；　a　kind　of　landline　that　they　insist　will　do
the　job。　Tech…Adept　Armadron　has　promised　to　brief　us　fully　once　the　system　is　operational。　It’ll
save　us　having　to　send　any　more　runners　all　the　way　back　to　Hadron　to　communicate　with　the
general。”
“Have　you　sent　one　to　report　on　our　victory　here？”
Bergen　nodded。　“Two；　actually；　just　in　case。　Hornet　riders　with　coded　parchments。　I　sent　them
out　as　soon　as　we　entered　the　gates。　I　expect　Tech…Adept　Armadron　will　have　his　landline　system　up
and　running　before　they　reach　Hadron　Base；　but　I　like　to　have　a　little　insurance。”
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Hornet　motorcycles　were　a　variant　of　the　old　standard…issue　Blackshadow　bikes。　They　were
noisy；　unarmed；　and　unarmoured；　but　they　were　the　fastest　machines　available　to　10th　Division。
Excepting　for　any　problems；　Bergen　expected　the　couriers　to　reach　Army　Group　HQ　the　following
day。
“Very　wise；　sir；”　replied　Marrenburg　with　a　nod。
Bergen　didn’t　feel　wise。　Today’s　victory　had　lifted　his　spirits　—　he　had　seen　the　raw　might　of
his　armoured　division　overcome　a　significant　enemy　presence；　and　he　knew　a　good　number　of　his
men；　including　no　small　percentage　of　those　who　had　died；　deserved　medals　for　what　they　had
achieved　—　but　he　still　railed　against　the　stupidity　of　the　whole　operation。　Taking　Karavassa
wouldn’t　matter　a　damn　once　General　deViers　got　to　the　final　way…point　and　found　nothing　left　of
the　legendary　tank　he　so　desperately　sought。
Bergen　intended　to　be　there　when　it　happened；　to　see　the　look　on　the　general’s　face。
“Any　word　on　getting　a　hospital　set　up？”　he　asked；　returning　his　mind　to　more　immediate
concerns。
Marrenburg　said　he　didn’t　know；　but　Bergen’s　adjutant；　Katz；　stepped　forward　and　answered；
“The　Officio　Medicae　staff　have　taken　over　a　two…storey　barracks　building　close　to　the　west　gate。
It’s　been　swept　for　threats。　No　problems。　Their　triage　teams　have　already　brought　in　the　high　priority
cases。”
“Good；”　said　Bergen。　“Make　sure　they　have　everything　they　need。　I’m　also　worried　about
Colonel　Vinnemann。　I　want　him　seen　by　an　augmetics　specialist　as　soon　as　possible。　The　gravity
here；　the　dust　and　all　the　rest　of　it…　From　the　sounds　of　it；　it’s　all　playing　absolute　hell　with　that
damned　metal　spine　of　his。”
Marrenburg　seemed　about　to　comment　when　Colonel　Graves　marched　in；　boot　heels　loud　and
sharp　on　the　stone　floor。　After　a　momentary　glance　in　the　direction　of　the　dead　warboss　on　the　floor；
he　stopped；　saluted；　and　said；　“Just　had　word　from　one　of　my　sweeper　teams；　sir。　There’s　something
I　think　you　ought　to　see。”
The　something　in　question　did　nothing　to　improve　Bergen’s　dark　mood。　In　fact；　it　had　quite　the
opposite　effect。
“Slaves；”　he　gasped。　“Human　slaves。”
He　stood　in　an　open　square　a　few　hundred　metres　inside　the　north　wall；　looking　at　a　mound　of
dead　men　and　women。　All　were　stripped。　All　were　chained　together；　each　iron　collar　linked　to　the
next；　every　wrist　and　ankle　tightly　manacled。　The　flesh　of　their　skinny　chests　and　buttocks　had　been
cruelly　branded　with　the　same　glyph　that　Bergen　had　seen　on　the　greenskin　leader’s　breastplate。
Worst　of　all；　each　torso　bore　broad　axe　and　cleaver　wounds。　They　had　been　slaughtered　like　grox。
But　why？　He　could　only　guess。　Perhaps；　with　the　battle…lust　on　them；　the　orks　within　the　walls　had
lost　control；　desperate　to　share　in　the　bloodletting；　and　turned　on　those　humans　closest　to　hand。　The
results　were　stomach…churning。　If　Bergen’s　heart　had　not　already　been　filled　with　hatred　for　the
greenskin　race；　the　sight　before　him　would　certainly　have　done　the　trick。　Blood…drinking　ticks
crawled　in　swarms　over　the　cooling　bodies；　searching　for　the　sustenance　they　craved；　but　finding
little　in　veins　that　no　longer　pulsed。
“We　should　have　expected　this；”　muttered　Lieutenant　Katz　from　behind　Bergen’s　right　shoulder。
“Should　we；　Jarryl？”
“I