Gunheads(科幻战争)-第8部分

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old　spacer　hasn’t　been　ground…side　for　over　twenty　years。　You’d　need　a　direct　order　from　the　High
Lords　to　get　him　off　that　Helicon　Star　of　his。”
There　was　a　ripple　of　polite　laughter。
“A　fine　ship；　that；”　murmured　a　colonel　close　to　Bergen。　It　was　von　Holden；　one　of　Rennkamp’s
men；　commander　of　the　259th　Mechanised　Regiment。　Bergen　was　a　little　surprised。　He　had　privately
admired　both　of　the　battlefleet’s　heavy　cruisers；　but　it　wasn’t　often　one　would　hear　a　groundpounder
praising　a　naval　vessel　out　loud。　There　were　long…running　tensions　between　the　Guard　and
the　Navy；　a　perpetuation　of　mistrusts　that　stretched　back　as　far　as　the　Age　of　Apostasy　and　beyond。
At　the　upper　end　of　the　table；　High　Commissar　Morten　was　answering　the　general。　“A　very　fine
vintage；　sir。　The　commodore　is　most　gracious。　This　is　very　expensive　stuff。　It　has　a　certain　citrus
quality；　you　agree？　And　the　significance　of　his　choice…”
“What　significance　would　that　be？”　asked　Bishop　Augustus。
“Its　origin；　your　grace；”　said　Morten。　“This　particular　amasec　is　produced　exclusively　by　the
Jaldyne　prefectural　distilleries　on　Terrax　Secundus。　Quite　rare　outside　the　Ultima　Segmentum。”
“Ah；　clever　of　him；”　said　a　glowing　deViers。　“Wonderful　stuff。”
Bishop　Augustus　was　frowning。　“I’m　afraid　I　still　don’t　see　the　connection。”
“Terraxian　and　Cadian　regiments　fought　side…by…side　on　this　very　plateau　in　the　last　war；”
answered　the　high　commissar。　“Together；　they　were　able　to　buy　Commissar　Yarrick　and　his
command　staff　the　time　they　needed　to　escape　the　planet’s　surface。　The　orks　swarmed　this　very
plateau　just　as　Yarrick’s　lifter　ascended。　I　believe　there　were　several　popular　books　published　about
the　battle。”
A　moment　of　quiet　descended　on　the　table　as　the　fighting　men　present　muttered　a　quick　prayer
for　the　fallen。　It　was　Major　General　Killian　that　broke　the　spell。
“I　don’t　suppose　any　of　you　have　read　Michelos？”　he　asked。　“I’ve　seen　a　few　of　my　troopers
with　their　noses　in　tattered　copies。”
“Finally　taught　your　lot　to　read；　eh；　Klotus？”　said　Bergen　with　a　grin。
Killian　laughed　heartily；　chasing　off　the　last　of　the　sombre　mood　that　had　momentarily　fallen　on
the　table。　“You　can　talk；　tread…head。　Your　lot　still　think　they　need　to　take　toilet　paper　to　the　mess
tent。　Must　be　all　those　promethium　fumes。”
The　colonels　seated　nearby　laughed　out　loud；　prone　to　engage　in　a　bit　of　good…natured　ribbing
themselves　at　times；　but　General　deViers　coughed　sharply　into　his　hand；　and　the　sound　cut　through
the　laughter　like　a　las…knife。　The　expression　on　the　general’s　face　sent　a　clear　message：　not　the　time；
not　the　place。
Fair　enough；　thought　Bergen。　It’s　your　show。
High　Commissar　Morten　sat　forward；　ice　blue　eyes　fixed　on　Killian；　and　said；　“I’m　not　sure　I
approve；　major　general。”　Seeing　Killian’s　face　redden；　he　added；　“Of　troopers　reading　Michelos；　I
mean。　His　work　has　a　very　fatalistic　bent。　Not　suitable　material　for　front…line　troops。　Dreadful
recruitment　material；　too。　The　way　he　refers　to　Guard　service　as　‘the　meat　grinder’。　If　it　were　up　to
me；　I’d　have　the　text　prohibited　under　article　six。”
Bergen　resisted　the　urge　to　roll　his　eyes。　First　offences　under　article　six　meant　the　lash。　It
seemed　a　little　harsh　for　reading　a　bit　of　poetry；　he　thought。
“Come　now；　commissar；”　said　Rennkamp。　“Isn’t　it　quite　popular　with　the　civs？”
“Civilians？”　said　Morten。　“I　hardly　think　so。　The　last　I　heard；　hivers　still　prefer　their
entertainment　filled　with　sex　and　unstoppable　heroes。”
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“What　have　you　got　against　unstoppable　heroes？”　asked　Killian；　smirking。　“I　like　to　think　you’re
dining　with　at　least　one。”
General　deViers　lifted　his　glass　and　said；　“I’ll　drink　to　that！”
His　adjutant；　Gruber；　appeared　again　from　the　side…door；　walked　to　the　right　side　of　the　general’s
chair　and；　in　a　deep；　sonorous　voice；　announced　the　dessert　—　slices　of　candied　bonifruit　with　hot
caffeine　to　follow　for　those　who　wanted　it。
Bergen　stifled　a　groan。　He　could　hardly　cope　with　consuming　more　food；　but　there　was　little
choice。　Propriety　made　harsh　demands。　He　doubted　he　could　get　away　with　refusing　to　partake　of
the　sweetened　fruit。　The　general　had　had　quite　a　few　glasses　of　amasec；　but　his　eyes　were　missing
nothing。　It　had　crossed　Bergen’s　mind　that　the　whole　event　might　have　been　orchestrated　to　serve　a
double　purpose。　He　didn’t　doubt　that　the　general　wished　to　celebrate　—　deViers　was　voracious　when
it　came　to　attention　and　respect　—　but　it　wouldn’t　have　surprised　him　if　the　old　man　was　also　using
the　banquet　as　an　opportunity　to　gauge　the　mood　among　his　officers　and　to　root　out　potential
troublemakers。　It　was　hardly　an　original　method。　One　of　the　divisional　commanders　would　have　to
replace　the　general　one　day。　Bergen　knew　that　Rennkamp　was　only　too　eager　to　step　in　and　take
over　whenever　the　chance　came　up。　He　wasn’t　sure　about　Killian　yet。　When　the　amasec　was　flowing
and　the　room　was　filled　with　chatter；　it　was　easy　to　let　one’s　guard　down；　confident　that　those
around　you　were　likewise　swept　up　in　the　bonhomie。　Bergen　had　been　careful　to　sip　slowly；
conscious　that　he　would　be　leading　his　troops　out　before　dawn。　Now；　he　was　glad　of　that；　certain
that　the　old　general　was　watching　all　of　them　like　a　hawk。
Warp　damn　the　old　bastard；　he　thought。　Millions　of　our　brother　Cadians　dead　and　dying　in　the
Third　War　of　Armageddon；　and　here　he　is　throwing　dinner　parties　on　a　world　infested　with
greenskins。　What　happened　to　him？　There　was　a　time　when　I　looked　up　to　him；　a　time　when　he　was
rock…solid。　He’s　not　the　same　man；　now。　It’s　as　if　some　kind　of　panic　or　mania　has　taken　over。　I
can’t　stand　what　he’s　become。
He　stabbed　his　dessert　fork　into　a　slice　of　bonifruit　and；　slowly；　mechanically；　chewed　and
swallowed；　hardly　tasting　it　at　all。
At　least　tomorrow；　he　would　be　out　of　the　general’s　shadow　again。
*　*　*
There’s　a　man　who　understands　this　quest；　thought　General　deViers。　Good　officer；　Gerard　Bergen。
Look　at　him；　limiting　his　drink；　careful　not　to　gorge　himself；　mindful　of　tomorrow　and　the　pressures
on　him。　Not　like　some　of　these　others。　Damn；　but　I　like　this　one。　I　like　him　a　lot。　Reminds　me　of
myself。
Commodore　Galbraithe’s　fine　amasec　was　really　working　hard　on　the　general。　His　head　felt　as
light　as　air　and　there　was　a　very　pleasant　numbness　in　his　muscles。　He　was　warm；　just　a　little　dizzy；
and　supremely　satisfied　with　the　way　the　evening　had　progressed。
Gruber　had　returned　to　his　side　to　lean　over　and　whisper　the　time　to　him。　Good　old　Gruber。　He
did　as　he　was　told；　no　questions　asked；　and　took　care　of　business；　even　the　nasty　stuff。
DeViers　rose　unsteadily　to　his　feet　and　addressed　his　guests　for　the　last　time　that　evening。
“Gentlemen；”　he　said；　“my　adjutant　tells　me　that　the　hour　is　late　and；　as　you　know；　the　10th
Armoured　Division　is　rolling　out　tomorrow　to　secure　the　first　of　our　waypoints。　Major　General
Bergen　should　be　in　his　bunk；　and　I　dare　say　the　rest　of　you　need　more　than　your　share　of　beauty
sleep；　but　I　have　a　few　words　for　you　before　you　disperse。”
His　guests　turned　their　heads　towards　him。
“Operation　Thunderstorm　is　off　to　a　fine；　auspicious　start。　I’ve　thoroughly　enjoyed　your
company　this　evening　and　I　thank　you　for　helping　me　to　mark　this　occasion　in　such　a　fitting
manner。”
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His　eyes　settled　for　a　brief　moment　on　each　of　them；　and　he　nodded　in　agreement　with　his　own
words　as　he　said；　“We’ve　dangerous　business　ahead。　The　filthy　orks　aren’t　about　to　make　it　easy　for
us。　There’s　nothing　they　love　more　than　a　fight；　and　they’ll　come　in　their　millions　once　they　know
men　have　returned　to　this　place。　Soon；　our　Major　General　Bergen　here　will　be　giving　them　their　first
taste　of　Imperial　lead　in　almost　forty　years；　and　there’ll　be　plenty　more　to　follow；　by　Throne！　We’ll
make　the　bastards　suffer。　It’s　time　to　remind　them　whose　bloody　galaxy　this　is。”
“Hear；　hear！”　called　out　one　of　Killian’s　colonels；　earning　him　a　broad　grin　from　the　general。
Some　of　the　other　officers　lifted　their　glasses。
“Yes；”　said　deViers；　“lift　your　glasses；　all　of　you。　A　final　toast。”
Around　the　table；　the　necks　of　tall　decanters　clinked　against　goblet　rims。　Each　guest　rose　from
his　seat；　some　less　steadily　than　others。
DeViers　turned　to　Bishop　Augustus。　“Through　the　counsel　of　the　Emperor’s　most　holy
Ministorum；　may　our　faith　remain　strong。”
The　bishop　nodded　sincerely；　as　if　he　would　personally　make　it　so。
“Ave　Imperator；”　replied　the　men　around　the　table。
DeViers　turned　next　to　High　Commissar　Morten　and　said；　“Through　the　uncompromising
vigilance　of　our　tireless　commissars；　may　our　hearts　never　falter。”
Morten　tilted　his　head　in　acknowledgement。
“Ave　Imperator。”
The　general　gestured　at　each　of　the　tech…priests　in　turn　with　his　glass。　“Through　the　wisdom　and
scientific　mastery　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus；　may　our　guns　blaze　fierce　and　our　engines　never
stall。”
“Ave　Imperator；”　said　the　officers；　but　the　tech…priests　replied　“Ave　Omnissiah！”　and　deViers
heard　Bishop　Augustus　mutter　a　quiet　curse　under　his　breath。
“Throne　above；”　the　general　went　on；　“even　the　Navy　is　doing　its　part！”
Some　of　the　colonels　and　majors　grunted　in　brief　disapproval。
“Come　now；　you　men；”　chided　deViers；　still　smiling。　“Commodore　Galbraithe　sends　us　his　best
liquor　and　has　promised　me　a　Vulcan　close…support　wing　once　our　hangars　are　finished。　I　won’t
exclude　him　from　my　toast。”
“May　we　not　also　raise　our　glasses　to　Major　General　Bergen？”　asked　High　Commissar　Morten。
He　turned　to　face　Bergen　down　the　length　of　the　table　and　said；　“The　very　best　of　luck　to　you；　sir；　in
your　coming　assault　on　Karavassa。　The　orks　will　crumble　before　you　and　the　might　of　your　glorious
tanks。”
“Hear；　hear！”　agreed　the　other　officers　noisily。
“Thank　you；　high　commissar；”　said　Bergen。　“I’m　confident　my　division　will　more　than　live　up　to
the　general’s　expectations。”
Bishop　Augustus　raised　his　glass　in　Bergen’s　direction　and　said；　“May　the　Light　of　all　mankind
watch　over　you　and　your　men；　major　general；　and　grant　you　victory　in　His　Name。　You　go　with　the
blessings　of　His　Most　Holy　Ministorum。”
“The　Emperor　protects！”　said　deViers　sharply；　irked　that　the　high　commissar　had　seen　fit　to
hijack　his　toast。
“The　Emperor　protects！”　chorused　the　guests；　and　together；　excepting　the　tech…priests　as　always；
they　drained　their　glasses。　At　a　sign　from　Gruber；　the　general’s　servants　emerged　from　the　side
corridor　again　to　withdraw　the　chairs　from　around　the　table；　signalling　an　end　to　the　general’s　soiree。
As　the　guests　started　filing　out　of　the　room’s　broad　double…doors；　each　saluting　him　as　they　went；
deViers　heard　Tech…Magos　Sennesdiar　addressing　Major　General　Bergen。
“I　miscalculated　the　probability　of　your　attendance　tonight；　major　general；”　said　the　magos。　“Are
your　preparations　complete？　May　I　assume　that　your　enginseers　are　performing　optimally？”
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“They　are；”　answered　Bergen。　“As　for　my　attendance；　the　general　insisted。　Perhaps　he　sought　to
distract　my　mind。　Time　to　think　is　not　always　a　welcome　commodity　the　day　before　deployment。”
“Epinephrine；”　said　Tech…Adept　Armadron。
“I’m　sorry；　adept？”　said　Bergen。
“A