Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第55部分

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battles　to　be　fought　here。
When　the　Warsmith　had　ascended　to　daemonhood；　Honsou　had　prostrated　himself　before　the　daemon　prince；　prayers　of　devotion
spilling　from　his　lips。
'Stand；　Honsou；'　commanded　the　daemon。
Hurriedly　Honsou　obeyed　as　the　daemon　continued；　'You　have　pleased　me　mightily　these　last　centuries；　my　son。　I　have　groomed
your　hatred　well　and　you　have　the　seed　of　greatness　within　you。'
'I　live　only　to　serve；　my　master；'　stammered　Honsou。
'I　know　you　do。　But　I　know　of　your　hunger　to　lead；　to　tread　the　path　I　have　taken。　It　is　clear　to　me　now　the　course　the　future　must
take。'
The　daemon　Warsmith　drifted　towards　Honsou；　its　massive　form　towering　above　the　Iron　Warrior。
'You　shall　be　my　successor；　Honsou。　Only　you　hold　true　to　the　vision　of　Chaos；　of　the　final　destruction　of　the　false　Imperium。
Forrix　had　lost　that　vision　of　our　ultimate　destiny　and　Kroeger；　well；　he　cast　it　aside　long　ago。　I　shall　not　name　you　captain；　I　shall
name　you　Warsmith。'
Before　Honsou　could　answer；　the　Warsmith　folded　his　midnight　wings　around　his　body；　his　form　a　sliver　of　impenetrable
darkness。
'The　power　of　the　warp　calls　me；　Honsou；　and　it　is　a　call　I　cannot　refuse。　Where　I　go；　you　cannot　follow…　yet。'
The　Warsmith's　outline　shimmered　as　he　faded　from　the　material　realm　into　places　beyond　Honsou's　understanding。
He　still　couldn't　believe　it。　Honsou　the　half…breed。　Now　Honsou　the　Warsmith。
He　turned　from　the　wreckage　of　the　citadel　and　made　his　way　back　towards　the　ridge　that　led　down　to　the　spaceport；　passing　a
wretched　column　of　blue…coated　prisoners　marching　towards　the　prison　hulks　and　a　life　of　slavery。　Honsou　caught　sight　of　a
prisoner　in　a　bronze　breastplate　with　the　shoulder　boards　of　a　lieutenant　colonel；　his　battered　features　cast　down　in　crushed
resignation；　and　laughed。
He　quickly　outpaced　the　prisoners；　marching　through　the　masterful　contravallations　Forrix　had　constructed　around　the　spaceport；
past　the　heavy；　transport　shuttles　that　were　returning　the　surviving　tanks　and　artillery　pieces　to　the　cargo　hulks。
The　landing　platforms　were　awash　with　men　and　machines　preparing　to　depart　Hydra　Cordatus。
He　crossed　the　runways　towards　a　shuttle　idling　on　a　far　landing　platform。
An　honour　guard　of　Iron　Warriors　stood　before　the　cavernous　entrance　to　the　vessel。
'Your　shuttle　is　ready；　Warsmith；'　said　a　bowing　Iron　Warrior。
Honsou　smiled　and　stepped　aboard　the　shuttle　without　a　backward　glance。
EPILOGUE
THE　ADEPTUS　MECHANICUS　vessel　Mordekai's　Light　drifted　in　geo…stationary　orbit　above　Hydra　Cordatus；　its　smooth　black
surfaces　dull　and　non…reflective。　Its　kilometre…long　hull　was　sleek　and　quite　unlike　the　ungainly　vessels　of　the　Imperial　Navy。
This　vessel　was　designed　for　speed　and　stealth。
Dark　robed　adepts　of　the　Machine　God　ghosted　through　the　incense…scented　air　of　the　command　bridge；　reverently　tending　to　the
arcane　technologies　of　the　massive　starship。
Standing　behind　the　command　altar　at　the　end　of　a　wide；　veneered　nave；　High　Magos　Kuzela　Matrada　stared　at　the　smouldering
ruin　of　the　citadel　projected　on　the　forward　viewing　bay。　The　great　fortress　was　no　more；　its　mighty　bastions　cast　down；　its　walls
reduced　to　rubble　and；　more　importantly；　its　precious　gene…seed　stolen。
The　scale　of　this　disaster　did　not　bear　thinking　about　and　the　repercussions　would　reach　to　the　very　highest　and　mightiest　on　Mars
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
and　Terra。
A　light　flashed　on　the　pict…tablet　before　him　and　he　swept　his　bronze　hand　across　the　runes　beside　it。　An　interference　filled　image
swam　into　focus　on　the　tablet；　the　hooded　face　of　Magos　Sarfian；　staring　up　at　him　from　the　surface　of　the　planet　below。
'Well？'　demanded　Matrada。
'You　were　correct；　high　magos。　The　laboratorium　is　empty　and　the　gene…seed　gone。'
'All　of　it？'
'All　of　it；'　confirmed　Sarfian。
'Have　you　found　any　survivors？'
'No；　my　lord；　only　corpses。　From　the　wreckage　and　sheer　level　of　destruction　we　have　discovered；　it　is　evident　that　the　battle　was
fierce　indeed。'
'Have　you　removed　all　evidence　of　our　blessed　order？'
Sarfian　nodded。　'The　cavern　has　been　purified　with　fire　and　melta　charges　set。'
'Very　well；　return　to　the　ship　and　we　will　cleanse　the　entire　site　from　orbit。'
'Yes；　my　lord；'　said　Sarfian。
Matrada　shut　off　the　link　and　opened　a　channel　to　his　ordnance　officer。　Yes；　this　was　a　disaster；　but　he　would　ensure　that　no　one
would　ever　find　out　about　it。
'Lock　in　co…ordinates　and　prepare　to　fire　on　my　order。'
GUARDSMAN　HAWKE　STUMBLED　down　the　rocky　slopes　of　the　mountains；　dehydrated；　malnourished　and　suffering　from　seconddegree
burns。　He'd　watched　as　the　enemy　had　seized　the　citadel；　butchering　the　last　remnants　of　his　regiment；　helpless　as　the　battle
raged　in　the　darkness。　With　the　citadel's　fall；　the　enemy　had　pulled　back　from　the　valley　and　left　Hydra　Cordatus　with　the　same
speed　and　efficiency　with　which　they　had　arrived。
Never　in　his　whole　life　had　Hawke　felt　quite　so　alone。　With　the　departure　of　the　enemy　forces；　the　silence　was　unnerving。　The
constant　rumble　of　artillery　and　explosions　was　gone；　as　was　the　distant　screaming　of　men　in　battle。　Only　now；　with　it　absent　did
Hawke　realise　how　omnipresent　it　had　been。
Not　a　soul　moved　on　the　plain　below　and　he　decided　that　enough　was　enough。　He　scavenged　a　few　unspoiled　ration　packs　from
the　torpedo　facility's　crew　quarters　as　well　as　some　hydration　tablets　and；　thankfully；　some　detox　pills。
With　the　battle　over；　he　began　the　long　trek　to　the　valley　floor；　a　skinny　shambling　wreck；　covered　in　dust　and　blood。　Quite　what
he　intended　to　do　when　he　got　there；　he　didn't　know；　but　knew　that　it　sure　beat　staying　in　the　mountains。
It　was　on　his　third　day's　travel；　as　he　rested　in　the　shadow　of　a　tall　boulder；　that　he　saw　the　ship。　It　roared　low　along　the　valley
before　vanishing　to　land　beyond　the　smashed　walls　of　the　citadel。
Though　he　knew　he　was　too　far　away　to　be　heard；　he　shouted　himself　hoarse；　scrambling　downhill　at　a　furious　rate。　The　fact　that
he　was　almost　a　day's　journey　from　the　citadel　didn't　occur　to　him；　and　soon　he　was　breathless　and　exhausted；　his　head　pounding
in　pain。
When　he　recovered；　he　set　off　once　more；　filled　with　fresh　determination。　He　travelled　for　another　five　hours　across　the
treacherous　terrain　of　the　mountains；　when　he　heard　the　whine　of　the　ship's　engines　once　more。
Hawke　watched　the　ponderous　craft　rise　up　from　the　distant　citadel　and　angle　itself　towards　the　crimson　sky。
'Oh；　no；'　he　moaned。　'No；　no；　no…　come　back！　Come　back　you　bastards！　Come　back！'
But　the　crew　of　the　ship　ignored　his　pleading　and　the　craft　shot　upwards　on　a　burning　tail　plume。　Hawke　dropped　to　his　knees　as
the　craft　vanished　from　sight；　weeping　and　cursing　its　crew。
He　was　scanning　the　sky；　desperately　hoping　the　ship　would　return；　when　the　first　orbital　lance　strike　lit　up　the　sky　with
unbearable　brightness　and　streaked　through　the　atmosphere　to　impact　on　the　citadel。
He　sat　bolt　upright　as　a　massive　explosion　mushroomed　from　the　citadel；　scrambling　backwards　as　a　cascade　of　light　fell　from　the
sky；　enveloping　the　citadel　in　blinding　explosions。
Hawke　watched；　horrified　as　the　barrage　continued　for　another　three　hours。　By　the　time　it　was　complete；　there　was　nothing　left　to
indicate　that　the　citadel　had　existed　at　all。
He　slumped　onto　his　side；　closing　his　eyes　as　the　weight　of　the　last　few　weeks　crashed　down　upon　him　and　he　realised　he　was
trapped　on　Hydra　Cordatus。　He　squeezed　shut　his　eyes　and　rolled　onto　his　back　as　exhaustion　finally　claimed　him。
ROUGH　HANDS　SHOOK　him　awake　and　he　grunted　in　pain　as　he　felt　himself　being　dragged　to　his　feet。　He　tried　to　open　his　eyes；　but
they　were　gummed　with　dust。　All　he　could　make　out　were　blurred；　yellow　forms　and　shouted　questions。　Shapes　either　side　of　him
held　him　upright　as　an　insistent　voice　nagged　at　him。
'What…？'　he　slurred。
'What　is　your　name？'　repeated　the　voice。
'Hawke；'　he　managed；　'Guardsman　Hawke；　serial　number　25031971；　who　the　hell　are　you？'
'Sergeant　Vermaas　of　the　Imperial　Fists　strike　cruiser　Justitia　Fides；'　said　a　voice　in　front　of　him。
He　felt　hands　lifting　his　dog…tags　from　beneath　his　uniform　jacket。
Hawke　blinked　his　eyes　and　turned　his　head；　seeing　two　giants　in　yellow　power　armour　either　side　of　him；　a　third　standing　before
him　without　his　helmet。　Even　in　his　exhausted　state；　Hawke　recognised　Space　Marines　and　wept　in　relief　when　he　saw　the　boxy
shape　of　a　Thunderhawk　gun…ship　sitting　on　the　plain　behind　them。
'Where　is　Captain　Eshara？'　demanded　Vermaas。
'Who？'
'Brother…Captain　Alaric　Eshara；　commander　of　the　Imperial　Fists　Third　Company。'
'Never　heard　of　him；'　said　Hawke。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
Vermaas　nodded　to　the　Imperial　Fists　either　side　of　him　and　Hawke　was　marched　roughly　towards　the　gunship　as　the　Space
Marines　boarded　ahead　of　him。
'Where　are　you　taking　me？'　he　asked。
'We're　taking　you　home；　soldier；'　said　Sergeant　Vermaas。
Hawke　smiled　and　stepped　aboard　the　Thunderhawk。




　　　　　　　　　　　（The　End）



。　…　。………【gzbysh】整理