Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第32部分

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consumed　by　the　nagging　suspicion　he　was　already　too　late；　he　had　since　recalled　it。
His　cabal　of　acolytes　had　spoken　of　mind　whispers　on　the　planet　that　were　not　theirs；　and　how　this　could　be　was　a　mystery　to
Kelmaur。　It　would　take　great　cunning　to　have　evaded　detection　by　the　Stonebreaker；　but　then　it　wasn't　here；　was　it…　？　The　vast
cargo　ships　that　orbited　this　planet　ystical　surveyors　that　would　allow　them　to　detect　any　approaching
enemies。　Had　something　slipped　past　while　the　Stonebreaker　had　been　away？
And　if　so；　where　had　it　gone　and　what　had　it　done　in　the　intervening　time？
Paranoia；　his　constant　companion；　held　him　tight　in　its　grip　and　his　mind　was　alive　with　all　manner　of　fearsome　possibilities。
Should　he　tell　the　Warsmith　of　his　suspicions？　Should　he　deal　with　it　on　his　own？　Should　he　feign　ignorance？
None　of　the　options　were　particularly　appealing　and　Kelmaur　was　filled　with　a　dreadful　foreboding。　As　to　the　first　vision…　well；
that　he　was　more　sure　of。　He　turned　as　a　low　moan　sounded　behind　him。
He　smiled　grimly；　staring　into　the　face　of　Adept　Cycerin。
The　former　priest　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　that　Kroeger　had　almost　killed　in　the　attack　on　the　spaceport　was　chained；　naked；　to
an　angled　trestle；　part　surgical　table　and　part　engineers'　workbench。　His　missing　hand　had　been　replaced　with　an　augmented　bionic
gauntlet；　its　pulsating　black　surface　daubed　with　ancient　symbols　of　power。　Encircling　the　wrist　was　a　broad；　spiked　bracelet　with
curved　talons　embedded　deep　in　the　flesh　above　the　gauntlet。　A　modified　form　of　the　Obliterators'　techno…virus　seeped　from　the
talons；　slowly　working　its　way　around　Cycerin's　body。　Eruptions　of　mecha…organic　components　appeared　all　over　his　flesh；　their
form　fluid；　yet　angular。　His　flesh　seethed　with　the　workings　of　the　virus　as　they　integrated　themselves　with　his　organic　matter。
Jharek　Kelmaur　smiled　humourlessly　and　rose　to　go　to　the　twitching　priest　of　the　Machine　God。
The　changes　wracking　his　body　must　have　been　painful；　but　the　adept's　face　gave　no　sign　of　it。　Instead　his　features　were　twisted　in
rapture　and　obscene　pleasure。
'Yes；'　whispered　Kelmaur。　'Feel　the　power　of　the　new　machine　fill　your　flesh。　You　have　great　work　ahead　of　you。'
Cycerin　opened　his　eye；　the　pupil　a　dilated　black；　its　internal　surfaces　alive　with　crawling；　newly…birthed　circuitry。　He　smiled　and
nodded　towards　the　pulsing　gauntlet。
'More；'　he　hissed。　'Give　me　more…'
THREE
ON　THE　TWENTIETH　day　of　the　siege　the　two　saps　driven　forward　from　the　first　parallel　were　linked　by　a　second　parallel；　some　six
hundred　metres　from　the　edge　of　the　ditch　protecting　the　walls　of　the　frontal　bastions。　This　was　well　within　the　range　of　the
unerringly　accurate　Imperial　gunners　and　thousands　of　lives　had　been　expended　to　complete　the　second　parallel；　but　the　Iron
Warriors　were　heedless　of　the　human　cost　of　such　endeavours。　All　that　mattered　was　that　the　Warsmith's　orders　were　obeyed。
The　second　parallel　stretched　from　the　ground　in　front　of　the　Vincare　bastion's　salient　to　that　before　the　tip　of　Mori　bastion。　The
second　parallel's　northern　face　was　piled　high　with　rammed　earth　and　revetted　with　iron　hoardings　to　ensure　that　it　could　withstand
artillery　impacts。　A　well　laid　out　battery　was　constructed　at　either　end；　their　firing　embrasures　placed　perpendicular　to　each
bastion's　flank。
Already；　markers　had　been　laid　for　yet　another　approach　sap；　this　time　aimed　at　the　head　of　the　Primus　Ravelin；　but　until　the
batteries　had　had　a　chance　to　open　fire　and　dismount　most　of　the　citadel's　wall　guns；　work　could　not　yet　begin。　This　was　siegework
at　its　most　brutal　and　obvious。　There　would　be　no　methodical　approach　to　flank　each　of　the　bastions　in　turn；　but　a　full　frontal
advance　on　the　works；　with　batteries　to　pound　the　walls　to　oblivion　before　a　devastating　assault　was　unleashed。
With　the　establishment　of　the　batteries；　the　trenches　behind　were　widened　and　deepened　to　allow　the　daemonic　war　machines　to
move　safely　to　the　front　line。　Lessons　had　been　learnt　following　the　destruction　unleashed　by　the　rampaging　war　machine　in　the
trenches　approaching　Tor　Christo；　and　those　charged　with　keeping　the　monstrous　daemon　engines　in　check　were　taking　no
chances。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
The　following　morning；　the　guns　placed　in　the　batteries　of　the　second　parallel　opened　fire　in　conjunction　with　those　situated　on　the
northern　slopes　of　Tor　Christo's　promontory。　The　guns　in　the　batteries　were　not　yet　close　enough　to　fire　over　the　lip　of　the　glacis　…
the　raised　area　of　ground　before　the　ditch　that　prevented　enemy　artillery　from　striking　the　vulnerable　base　of　the　walls　…　but　they
could　hammer　the　ramparts　and　make　the　firing　step　untenable　for　the　defenders。　And　this　they　did　with　remarkable　efficiency；
smashing　the　wall　head　with　solid　projectiles　and　reducing　the　thick　ramparts　to　jagged　piles　of　rubble。　Counterbattery　fire　from
the　citadel　was　desultory　and　shots　that　did　strike　home　were　either　deflected　by　the　reinforced　earthworks　or；　in　the　case　of　the
guns　on　Tor　Christo；　found　to　be　out　of　range。
Hundreds　of　men　died　in　the　first　minutes　of　the　bombardment；　before　the　order　was　given　to　fall　back　within　the　bastions'
enclosures。　For　the　men　of　Mori　bastion　this　was　a　life　saving　order；　but　for　many　of　those　in　Vincare　it　proved　to　be　a　death
sentence。
Howitzers　from　the　promontory　now　fired　explosive　shells　on　high　trajectories；　landing　their　bombs　within　the　walls　of　Vincare
bastion　and　shredding　the　men　gathered　within　its　walls。　Scores　of　men　died　with　each　shrieking　explosion；　the　airbursting　shells
taking　a　fearsome　toll；　razor　fragments　ripping　flesh　and　bone　apart　with　ease。　Officers　rallied　their　men；　shouting　at　them　to　take
cover　within　the　wall　bunkers。
As　their　targets　took　shelter；　the　guns　on　the　promontory　shifted　their　fire　to　the　interior　of　the　citadel；　their　increased　elevation
giving　them　the　range　to　drop　shells　inside　the　perimeter　of　the　inner　curtain　wall。　Three　large　barrack　buildings　were　gutted　by
fire　and　a　handful　of　others　reduced　to　rubble　before　Arch　Magos　Amaethon　was　able　to　raise　the　energy　shield　that　protected　the
inner　citadel。
The　shelling　continued　throughout　the　day；　ripping　apart　the　tops　of　the　two　bastions　and　the　ravelin；　dismounting　a　huge　number
of　guns　and　rendering　much　of　their　frontal　sections　wide　open。
As　night　fell　and　the　guns　continued　to　pound　the　citadel；　hundreds　of　slaves　trudged　through　the　approach　trenches　from　their
corpse…infested　dug…outs　and　began　digging　the　approach　sap　forward。
FOUR
VAUBAN　CIRCLED　THE　briefing　table　and　poured　each　of　his　weary　officers　a　glass　of　amasec；　searching　their　faces　for　signs　of
resignation。　Pleased　to　find　none；　he　returned　to　his　seat　at　the　head　of　the　table；　poured　another　glass　and　set　it　before　Gunnar
Tedeski's　empty　seat。
All　the　officers　appeared　to　have　aged；　their　features　lined　with　fatigue　and　numb　with　the　unceasing；　grinding　nature　of　the　siege。
Morgan　Kristan　looked　the　worst；　his　arm　in　a　bloody　sling　and　a　wide　bandage　wrapped　around　his　midriff　where　fragments　from
an　exploding　shell　had　torn　into　him。　His　men　in　the　Vincare　bastion　had　taken　a　battering　and　he　had　been　there　with　them　during
it。
All　his　officers　had　been　blooded　now　and　he　was　fiercely　proud　of　them。
'Gentlemen；'　began　Vauban；　raising　his　glass。　'To　you　all。'
His　officers　raised　their　glasses　and　drained　their　amasec　as　one。　Vauban　set　down　his　glass　and　poured　himself　another。　None　of
the　men　gathered　around　the　table　said　anything　as　the　castellan　of　Hydra　Cordatus　sipped　his　drink。
Leonid　consulted　a　featureless　gold　box　before　nodding　slowly　to　Vauban。
Eventually　Vauban　broke　the　silence；　saying；　'We　are　in　a　perilous　position；　gentlemen。　The　enemy　is　at　the　gates　and　if　the
estimates　of　our　engineers　are　correct；　we　have　days　at　best　before　they　breach　our　walls　and　enter　the　citadel。'
'I　pledge　that　my　men　will　fight　to　the　last；'　vowed　Morgan　Kristan；　slamming　the　table　with　his　one　good　hand。
'As　will　those　of　Battalion　C；'　echoed　Piet　Anders。
Vauban　suppressed　a　sly　smile　and　said；　'Hopefully　that　will　not　be　necessary。　There　have　been　some…　unexpected　developments
in　the　last　few　hours　and　Lieutenant　Colonel　Leonid　has　a　plan　that　may　buy　us　some　more　time。　The　enemy　artillery；　especially
that　on　the　promontory；　is　killing　us。　To　have　any　chance　of　survival　we　must　knock　it　out；　and　that　will　not　be　easy。　Mikhail？'
Leonid　stood　and　checked　the　gold　box　again　to　make　sure　that　the　vox…scrambler　was　functioning　properly　before　handing　out
data…slates　to　the　senior　officers　of　the　Jourans。　Leonid　and　Vauban　watched　as　each　man　scanned　the　contents　of　the　slate；　their
expressions　changing　from　weariness　to　sudden　hope。
'Is　it　really　true？'　asked　Major　Anders。
'It　is；　Piet；'　confirmed　Leonid。　'I　have　seen　them。'
'An　entire　company？'　breathed　Kristan。　'How？'
Vauban　raised　his　hand；　halting　further　questions　and　said；　'The　files　you　are　holding　in　your　hands　are　to　be　considered　the　most
sacred　thing　in　your　possession；　gentlemen。　Follow　the　orders　within　them。　Do　so　with　care　and　resolution；　and　tell　no　one　outside
this　room　what　we　are　about。　Be　ready　to　move　on　this　plan　the　instant　I　give　the　order；　for　if　you　are　not；　then　we　truly　are　lost。'
Morgan　Kristan　scanned　further　down　the　slate　and　grunted　as　he　saw　a　familiar　name。
'Is　there　a　problem；　Major　Kristan？'　asked　Leonid。
'There　may　be；'　nodded　Kristan。　'Any　plan　that　involves　…　relies　even　…　on　Hawke；　scares　me　to　the　soles　of　my　boots。'
'Do　not　concern　yourself　with　Hawke's　involvement　in　this；'　soothed　Vauban。　'I　have　faith　in　him；　and　Lieutenant　Colonel　Leonid
will　handle　that　part　of　the　plan。'
Piet　Anders　lifted　his　eyes　from　his　slate　and　asked；　'And　who　will　lead　us？'
'I　will；'　replied　Vauban。
THE　RUINS　OF　listening　post　Sigma　IV　had　long　ceased　smouldering　as　Goran　Delau　squatted　by　its　entrance；　his　servo…arm　sifting
through　the　wreckage。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
He　and　ten　soldiers　clad　in　red　overalls　had　searched　the　mountains　these　last　few　days　without　finding　another　living　soul　and
Delau　was　beginning　to　believe　that　Honsou　had　sent　them　on　a　fool's　errand。　A　body　without　a　face　lay　beside　the　buckled
doorway；　its　bones　gleaming　through　the　torn　fabric　of　its　uniform　and　Delau　kicked　it　aside　as　he　ducked　inside　the　listening　post；
remembering　the　battle　they　had　fought　to　take　this　place；　the　roar　of　assault　cannon　fire　and　the　storm　of　shells　as　it　tore　through
them。
Inside；　all　was　darkness；　but　Delau's　enhanced　vision　easily　pierced　the　gloom。　Shattered　equipment　and　blackened　metal　lay
strewn　about；　the　walls　peppered　with　grenade　fragments。　A　body　lay　against　one　wall；　the　little　flesh　that　remained　on　its　skeleton
was　scorched　and　black。　This　body's　face　was　blown　away；　and　Delau　remembered　the　two　shots　Honsou　had　fired　to　kill　these
men。
Where　then　was　the　body　of　the　third？
As　he　scanned　the　deserted　listening　post；　he　saw　the　open　footlocker　and　the　discarded　items　that　lay　strewn　about　it。　He　fell　to
his　knees；　examining　them　all　in　turn。　All　were　useless　trinkets　and；　to　a　man　trapped　on　the　mountain；　worthless。
So；　one　soldier　had　somehow　survived　and　salva