Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第2部分

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And　for　what？
He　hadn't　fired　a　shot　in　anger　in　ten　years！
In　truth；　he　was　bored。
Hawke　was　a　hellraiser。　He　wanted　some　action；　a　chance　to　show　his　stuff。　He　picked　up　his　rifle　and　shouldered　it；　imagining
some　alien　raider　in　his　sights。
'Bang　bang；　you're　dead；'　he　whispered；　spinning　and　squeezing　off　more　imaginary　shots　at　his　imaginary　enemies。
He　should　be　so　lucky。　He　chuckled　to　himself　and　put　down　the　rifle；　having　won　the　battle。
Yeah；　right；　he　thought。
THE　HUNTER　WHO　was　about　to　kill　Guardsmen　Hitch　and　Charedo　had　been　stealthily　approaching　the　surveyor　station　in　the
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
darkness　for　the　last　hour；　his　enhanced　vision　turning　night　into　day。
His　name　was　Honsou　and　in　the　last　hour　he　had　advanced　two　hundred　metres　on　his　belly；　centimetre　by　centimetre；　the　autosenses
in　his　helmet　alerting　him　to　the　surveyor　sweeps　of　the　armoured　bunker。　Each　time　his　earpiece　growled　a　warning　he
would　freeze　as　the　questing　spirits　of　the　ancient　machinery　sought　him　out。
The　other　members　of　his　squad　were　invisible　to　him；　but　he　knew　that　they　too　were　slowly　approaching　the　station。　Two　of
their　targets　had　left　the　bunker。　Were　they　hunting？　Was　it　just　a　regular　patrol　or　had　someone　inside　the　bunker　caught
something　suspicious　on　their　surveyors？　Briefly；　he　wondered　if　the　soldier　within　had　reported　yet。
Probably　not；　he　thought；　as　he　watched　the　two　morons　blunder　about　in　the　dust　storm。　They'd　passed　within　a　metre　of　his
position　as　they　headed　to　where　they　thought　their　quarry　was；　making　enough　noise　to　stampede　a　herd　of　grox。
Hopefully　the　third　soldier　in　the　surveyor　station　was　as　pathetic　as　these　two。　He　had　waited；　watching　them　wander　aimlessly
for　nearly　half　an　hour　before　seeming　to　come　to　the　conclusion　that　their　hunt　was　fruitless；　and　beginning　the　trek　back。
They　stumbled　away　and　Honsou　wondered　again　how　the　Imperium　had　lasted　for　the　last　ten　thousand　years　with　men　like　these
defending　it。　Would　that　all　the　False　Emperor's　soldiers　were　like　them。
Slowly；　he　followed　them；　making　better　time　on　his　belly　than　his　prey　did　on　foot　until　he　was　practically　on　top　of　them。　He
was　now　less　than　seven　metres　from　the　bunker's　rear；　and　only；　door。
He　shivered　as　he　saw　the　stubby；　multiple　barrels　of　the　rear…mounted　assault　cannon　and　took　a　deep　breath。
Patience。　He　had　to　wait　until　they　entered　the　code　and　opened　the　door。
Still　flat　on　his　stomach；　he　pulled　his　bolt　pistol　from　its　insulated　holster　and　worked　the　action；　chambering　a　round。　The　storm
easily　swallowed　the　noise。　He　flicked　off　the　safety　and　waited。
His　targets　entered　the　sheltered　lee　of　the　bunker　and　the　tallest　of　the　pair　began　punching　the　entry　code　into　the　keypad。
Honsou　sighted　on　the　soldier　nearest　him；　lining　the　fore　and　back　sight　precisely　on　the　gap　between　the　man's　helmet　and　flak
jacket。　He　exhaled　slowly；　calming　his　breathing；　preparing　to　shoot。
Everything　faded　from　his　perceptions。　Everything　except　the　shot。
The　code　was　almost　entered。　His　finger　tightened　on　the　trigger。　His　vision　narrowed　to　a　tunnel；　following　the　path　his　bolt
would　take。
HAWKE　GRIMACED　AS　the　door　to　the　bunker　slid　jerkily　open；　draining　away　the　little　heat　left　in　the　listening　post。　Why　the　hell
didn't　they　put　a　two…door　approach　system　on　these　places？　Not　just　for　the　security；　but　to　keep　the　warmth　in。
He　glanced　at　the　external　pict…display　as　the　door　slid　further　open　and　did　a　slow　double…take　as　the　wind　dropped　and　the
swirling　dust　abated。　Behind　Charedo　he　saw　a　huge　armoured　figure　with　a　raised　pistol。
Without　a　second　thought　he　leapt　for　the　emergency　door　override　and　slammed　it　down。
The　roaring　of　the　wind　drowned　the　first　shot。
Hawke　heard　a　second；　followed　by　two　dull　thuds。　He　swore；　seeing　Hitch　and　Charedo　slump　to　the　ground；　gaping　craters
where　their　faces　had　been。
He　grabbed　the　handle　of　the　rear　cannon　and　yanked　the　trigger　hard。　He　swung　the　gun　from　side　to　side；　not　aiming；　just
shooting。　The　roar　of　the　cannon　was　deafening；　the　rattling　of　spent　shells　ringing　from　the　grey　walls。
The　supersonic　shells　blew　up　a　storm；　churning　the　mud　and　earth　outside　to　atoms　as　thousands　of　rounds　turned　the　area　before
him　into　a　death…trap；　shredding　anything　within　its　arc　of　fire。
He　screamed　as　he　fired。　He　didn't　know　whether　he　was　hitting　anything　and　didn't　much　care。
'You　just　messed　with　the　wrong　guy！'　he　yelled。
Dust　blew　in　his　face；　filling　his　mouth　and　he　angrily　spat　it　clear。　Then　he–
Dust？　He　glanced　quickly　at　the　door。
Oh　no…
Hitch's　body　was　blocking　it；　preventing　it　from　closing。
Indecision　tore　at　him。　Door　or　cannon？
'Damn　you；　Hitch！'　he　shouted　and　jumped　down　from　the　cannon's　firing　step。　He　grabbed　Hitch's　headless　corpse　and　pulled；
hauling　his　former　squadmate　inside；　out　of　the　door's　path。
A　shape　loomed　up　out　of　the　dust。　He　fell　back　as　a　bullet　tore　across　his　shoulder。
Hawke　screamed　and　snatched　up　Hitch's　fallen　rifle　as　a　giant　shape　loomed　in　the　doorway。
He　fired　the　rifle；　laughing　as　his　shot　punched　into　the　figure's　chest。　The　massive　silhouette　reeled；　but　didn't　fall。　Hawke
unloaded　the　remainder　of　the　power　cell　through　the　door；　shot　after　shot。　He　laughed　as　he　finally　managed　to　pull　Hitch's　body
inside　the　bunker　and　slammed　himself　against　the　door…closing　handle。
'Ha！　Get　in　now；　you　fraggers！'　he　shouted　at　the　closing　door；　whooping　with　excitement。
Something　clattered　on　the　ground　as　the　door　finally　shut　and　the　laughter　died　in　his　throat　as　he　saw　the　two　gently　spinning
grenades　at　his　feet。
'Oh　no…'　he　whispered。
Instinctively　he　kicked　out；　sending　them　skittering　across　the　sloping　floor　to　the　grenade　sump；　a　deep　and　narrow　trench　cut
into　the　floor　at　the　wall　of　the　listening　post　for　just　such　an　emergency。　The　first　grenade　dropped　into　the　sump；　but　the　second
bounced　clear；　rolling　back　towards　him。
Dropping　everything；　he　sprinted　for　cover　behind　the　vox…panel。
The　grenade　exploded。
Fire　and　shrapnel；　blinding　light　and　ringing　eardrums。　Blood　and　noise　as　the　bunker　became　a　raging　inferno。
Guardsman　Hawke　screamed　as　fire　and　whickering　fragments　lashed　his　body。　The　force　of　the　explosion　picked　him　up　and
slammed　him　against　the　wall　of　the　listening　post。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
Bright　lights　sunburst　before　his　eyes　and　pain　swallowed　him　whole。　He　had　time　to　scream　once　before　the　pressure　wave
snatched　the　breath　from　his　lungs；　slamming　his　head　into　the　wall　and　taking　the　pain　away。
As　THE　DUST　settled；　Honsou　stepped　across　the　shattered　threshold　and　surveyed　the　devastated　remains　of　the　bunker。　Blood
clotted　on　his　chest　where　the　Guardsman　had　shot　him。
But　that　was　the　least　of　his　concerns。　The　Imperial　lackey　had　turned　his　carefully　planned　assault　into　a　bloodbath。
Two　of　his　men　were　dead；　blown　away　in　the　first　roar　of　the　assault　cannon。
A　couple　of　grenades　into　the　bunker　had　silenced　the　cannon；　however。　Frags　weren't　the　most　powerful　grenades；　but　contained
within　the　cramped　confines　of　this　bunker　they　had　been　devastating。
He　kicked　the　blackened；　smouldering　corpse　of　the　Guardsman；　venting　his　frustration　on　the　dead　body。　He　ducked　below　the
lintel　of　the　bunker；　black　smoke　pouring　from　its　interior；　and　stood　erect。　Almost　as　tall　as　the　bunker；　Honsou　was　a　giant　of　a
warrior。　He　was　clad　in　power　armour　the　colour　of　burnished　iron；　its　surfaces　pitted　and　scored　by　three　months　of　living　in　the
hostile　environment　of　Hydra　Cordatus。　He　wiped　the　dust　clogging　his　visor　and　engaged　the　illuminator　on　his　shoulder。　The
powerful　glow　cast　a　stark　light　across　his　armour；　shadowing　his　moulded　breastplate　and　the　symbol　of　the　Iron　Warriors　on　his
right　shoulder　guard。
He　crunched　through　the　dust　and　trained　his　gaze　further　down　the　mountains　towards　the　spaceport。　He　could　barely　make　it　out
through　the　dust　clouds；　and　knew　the　storm　was　beginning　to　blow　itself　out。　They　must　move　quickly。
He　had　lost　two　men；　but；　in　the　end；　he　supposed　it　did　not　matter。　With　two　listening　posts　down；　they　now　had　a　narrow　blindspot
running　towards　the　spaceport　and　he　had　more　than　enough　men　to　successfully　complete　his　mission。
He　voxed　the　remainder　of　his　warriors。
'We　are　clear　now。　All　teams　close　on　me　and　move　out。'
TWO
JERICHO　FALLS　SPACEPORT　squatted　at　the　foot　of　the　mountains；　a　glowing　beacon　of　light　in　the　greyness　of　the　dust　storm。　Such
storms　were　not　uncommon　on　Hydra　Cordatus；　and　were　just　one　of　the　unpleasant　phenomenon　that　simply　had　to　be　endured。
A　typical　Imperial　military　establishment；　it　boasted　a　collection　of　three　dozen　buildings；　ranging　from　armoured　hangars　for
Marauder　and　Lightning　aircraft；　fuel　stations　and　mess　halls　to　barracks　and　maintenance　sheds。　The　landing　strips　and　hardened
runways　covered　over　eighty　per　cent　of　the　ground　enclosed　by　the　three　metre　high　perimeter　walls；　enough　to　land　or　launch　an
entire　attack　wing　of　aircraft　in　under　five　minutes。　Vast　supply　shuttles；　each　capable　of　landing　a　Battle　Titan；　could　be　handled
by　the　base；　though　it　had　been　many　years　since　anything　larger　than　a　Thunderhawk　gunship　had　availed　itself　of　the　facilities。
The　command　post　of　the　spaceport　was　housed　in　what　was　known　by　the　soldiers　as　''The　Hope''；　due　to　an　oft…repeated　mantra
amongst　the　Guardsmen　stationed　on　Hydra　Cordatus　that　they　hoped　not　to　pull　duty　at　Jericho　Falls。　A　thick；　armoured　tower
with　a　flattened　disc　on　top；　set　on　the　northern　edge　of　the　landing　fields；　the　Hope　was　protected　by　reinforced　rockcrete　walls；
which　in　turn　were　plated　in　sheets　of　adamantium　specially　commissioned　from　the　shipyards　of　Calth。　Howling　winds　swept
across　the　open　ground　of　the　base；　whipping　the　abrasive　dust　into　every　fold　and　crease　of　a　soldier's　uniform；　getting　into
mouths　and　behind　goggles　to　choke　and　blind。
The　only　way　in　or　out　of　the　Hope　was　through　an　adamantium　door　that　required　four　gigantic　pistons　to　open。
Five　companies　of　the　Jouran　Dragoons　were　stationed　here；　housed　in　reinforced　barracks　and　a　hardened　hangar。　Green　and　red
lights　winked　on　the　numerous　landing　platforms　and　runways；　and　powerful　arc　lights　fought　to　penetrate　the　swirling　dust　and
illuminate　the　outer　perimeter　of　the　base。　Patrol　vehicles；　their　engines　modified　to　resist　the　intake　of　dust；　circled　the　base；　their
headlights　feebly　piercing　the　gloom。
THE　ATMOSPHERE　WITHIN　the　Hope　was　subdued。　This　close　to　dawn　was　always　slow；　no　different　from　any　other　time　of　the
day。　An　hour　before　the　shift　change；　the　staff　were　tired　and　restless。　The　soft　ticking　of　logic　engines　and　hushed　conversations
with　patrolling　vehicles　and　soldiers　were　the　only　sounds。
Operator　Three；　Koval　Peronus；　rubbed　his　grainy　eyes　and　took　a　hit　of　caffeine。　It　was　cold；　but　did　the　job。　Once　again　he
leaned　towards　the　vox…panel。
'Listening　post　Sigma　IV；　come　in　please；'　he　said。　A　burst　of　static　was　his　only　answer。　He　checked　the　time。　It　had　been　two
hours　and　ten　minutes　since　Hawke's　last　check…in。　He　was　late。　Again。
'Listening　post　Sigma　IV；　come　in。　Hawke；　I　know　you're　there；　so　pick　up