Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第6部分

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of　Humanity　under　the　terrible　Powers　of　Chaos。
Forrix　watched　Kroeger　pace　like　a　caged　animal；　straining　to　be　let　loose　within　the　confines　of　the　tower。　Kroeger's　impatience
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
had　long　ceased　to　anger　Forrix；　now　it　simply　irritated　him。　The　man　was　a　proficient　killer；　and　he　had　fought　the　Warsmith's
enemies　for　ten　thousand　years；　admittedly；　but　he　lacked　the　perspective　that　such　an　eternity　of　war　and　despair　should　bring。
Unlike　Honsou；　Kroeger　had　long　since　cast　off　any　notions　of　the　good　of　humanity。　He　fought　for　greed；　for　slaughter　and　the
chance　to　exact　a　measure　of　revenge　upon　those　who　had　bested　them　so　long　ago。
As　for　himself？　Forrix　no　longer　knew　what　he　fought　for；　only　that　there　was　nothing　else　he　could　do。　He　had　been　damned　the
instant　he　had　spat　upon　his　oaths　of　loyalty　to　the　Emperor。　Now　he　could　walk　no　other　path。
His　own　warriors　waited　behind　him；　drawn　up　in　serried　ranks；　ready　to　begin　the　massive　logistical　operation　of　landing　tens　of
thousands　of　slaves；　workers；　soldiers　and　war　machines　from　orbit。　In　the　centuries　since　the　betrayal　on　Terra；　Forrix　had
organised　hundreds　of　such　operations　and　could　land　ten　thousand　men　and　have　them　ready　to　march　off　in　battle　order　in　under
five　hours。
Until　they　landed　the　Titans；　the　sheer　mass　of　the　tower　was　proof　against　their　available　weapons；　and　the　Warsmith　himself　had
impressed　upon　Forrix　the　need　for　swiftness　in　this　campaign。　He　could　not　risk　bringing　the　massive　bulk　carriers；　essentially
vast　barrack　ships；　down　into　low　orbit　until　the　control　tower　was　theirs。　It　was　entirely　likely　that　there　were　torpedo　silos　or
orbital　batteries　concealed　within　the　mountains　just　waiting　for　the　chance　to　down　such　valuable　targets。
Once　Kroeger　had　taken　the　tower　he　would　begin　the　landings。
And　then　this　world　would　burn。
KROEGER　WATCHED　THE　Dreadnought　rip　the　bludgeoned　door　from　its　frame　and　hurl　the　massive　piece　of　metal　through　the　air。
The　mad　howl　of　the　machine　echoed　across　the　spaceport　as　its　keepers　dragged　its　massive　bulk　away　from　the　low…ceilinged
interior　of　the　tower。
He　snarled　and　leapt　through　the　shattered　remains　of　the　door；　blood　pounding　through　his　veins　in　hot　excitement。　His　bloodlust
was　up；　stoked　by　the　infuriating　delays　in　achieving　entry　to　the　tower。　Screams　and　roars　followed　him；　as　a　tide　of　armoured
killers　poured　inside　the　last　bastion　of　the　Imperial　defenders。
Las…bolts　burst　around　him　and　ricocheted　from　his　armour；　but　nothing　could　stop　his　powerful　form。　Around　fifty　men　defended
the　internal　space　of　the　tower；　cowardly　wretches　who　had　allowed　their　comrades　to　be　butchered　while　they　had　prayed　for　a
deliverance　that　would　never　come。
Kroeger　charged　straight　for　the　heart　of　the　defence　as　Iron　Warriors　armed　with　gargoyle…mouthed　heavy　bolters　took　up
position　either　side　of　the　tower's　door；　spraying　the　defenders'　barricades　with　shells。
Five　powerful　strides　and　Kroeger　was　amongst　the　Imperial　soldiers；　chopping　and　hacking　with　his　sword。　Blood　fountained　and
cries　of　terror　echoed　from　the　gore…spattered　walls　as　the　Iron　Warriors　slew　every　man　that　stood　before　them。　It　was　an　uneven
struggle　and　as　Kroeger　wrenched　his　sword　from　the　belly　of　the　last　man；　it　was　with　a　snarl　of　displeasure。　Where　was　the　sport
to　be　had　in　slaughtering　such　weaklings？　The　lmperium　had　grown　soft。
Not　one　of　these　soldiers　could　have　stood　on　the　walls　of　Terra　in　the　last　days　and　held　their　head　high。　Kroeger　shook　his　head；
clearing　his　mind　of　ancient　memories。　There　was　battle　still　to　be　had。
ADEPT　CYCERIN　SAT　at　his　monitoring　station　and　awaited　death。　He　listened　to　the　shrieks　of　the　dying　echoing　from　the　voxspeakers；
and　felt　his　terror　rise　once　more；　suffocating　in　its　intensity。　His　hands　shook　uncontrollably　and　he　had　not　been　able　to
move　his　legs　for　the　last　few　minutes。　He　was　going　to　die。　The　logic　stacks　in　his　engineered　brain　could　offer　no　other　probable
outcome；　no　matter　how　often　he　pleaded　and　prayed。
The　staff　of　the　command　centre　huddled；　shaking；　at　the　far　end　of　the　room；　holding　one　another　as　death　approached。　Koval
Peronus　stood　alone；　holding　a　pair　of　laspistols　pointed　at　the　door。　Cycerin　was　under　no　illusion　now　as　to　how　flimsy　a　barrier
it　truly　was　and　was　impressed　by　the　determination　that　shone　from　his　underling's　features。
Suddenly　the　awful　shrieks　and　clamour　of　battle　ceased　from　below　and　Cycerin　knew　that　the　soldiers　were　all　dead。　Strange
how　inviolable　he　had　felt　here；　and　how　quickly　that　security　had　been　stripped　from　him。　Watching　Peronus；　he　saw　beads　of
sweat　gathering　on　his　forehead；　muscles　bunching　along　his　jaw…line　and　noticed　the　barely　perceptible　tremor　to　his　arms。　The
man　was　terrified；　yet　stood　his　ground　in　the　face　of　insurmountable　odds。　Cycerin　was　no　soldier；　but　recognised　true　courage
when　he　saw　it。
Stiffly；　he　rose　from　his　seat；　forcing　his　trembling　body　to　stand　beside　Koval　Peronus。　He　may　be　about　to　die；　but　as　an　adept　of
the　Machine　God；　he　would　die　standing　before　the　enemy　with　chin　held　high。　Koval　turned　his　head　as　the　adept　stood　alongside
him　and　smiled　weakly；　nodding　briefly　in　gratitude　for　his　superior's　support。
He　reversed　the　grip　on　one　of　his　pistols　and　offered　it　to　Cycerin。
'Have　you　ever　fired　a　weapon　in　anger？'　he　asked。
Cycerin　shook　his　head。　'I　monitored　the　production　of　them　in　a　weapons　forge　on　Gryphonne　IV　for　fifty　years；　but　never
managed　to　actually　fire　one。'
He　swallowed　hard。　It　was　the　longest　sentence　he　had　ever　uttered　to　one　of　his　staff。
'It's　easy。　Just　point　and　pull　the　trigger；'　explained　Peronus。　'I've　set　the　power　to　maximum　to　give　us　a　chance　of　actually　hurting
one　of　these　heretics；　so　you'll　only　get　three；　maybe　four　shots　at　the　most。　Make　them　count。'
Cycerin　nodded；　too　scared　to　even　reply。　The　pistol　felt　heavy　in　his　hands；　but　reassuringly　lethal。　Let　the　enemy　come；　he
thought。　Let　them　come；　and　they　will　find　Adept　Etolph　Cycerin　ready　for　them。
KROEGER　CROUCHED　AT　the　end　of　the　corridor　leading　to　the　control　room　and　watched　as　two　Iron　Warriors　planted　shaped
melta　charges　across　the　door's　centre。　They　turned　to　him　and　nodded；　retreating　and　taking　cover　as　the　timers　activated；
detonating　the　charges　in　a　ball　of　incandescent　light。
Kroeger　was　momentarily　blinded　as　his　auto…senses　darkened　his　receptors　to　compensate；　but　when　they　reactivated；　he　snarled
in　satisfaction　as　he　saw　the　door　and　half　the　wall　had　been　obliterated。
Nothing　came　through　the　door；　not　a　single　shot；　grenade；　or　warrior　intent　on　dying　with　some　measure　of　honour。　Angry　now　at
having　been　cheated　of　the　chance　for　glory；　Kroeger　smashed　his　way　through　the　smouldering　remains　of　the　door；　his　bulk
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
taking　a　portion　of　the　wall　with　him　and　wreathing　him　in　smoke。
Two　figures　stood　before　him；　pistols　held　wavering　before　them。　Perhaps　here　he　would　find　a　foe　worthy　of　his　blade。　He
grinned　as　he　smelled　their　fear。
The　smile　faded　as　he　saw　that　neither　man　was　a　warrior。　One　was　a　tonsured　technician；　while　the　other　was　one　of　the　deluded
priests　of　the　machine。
What　then　could　they　offer　him　that　he　had　not　already　ripped　from　five　score　men　already？　The　robed　machine　priest　shouted　and
fired　his　pistol；　the　blast　punching　a　hole　in　the　wall　beside　Kroeger。　The　technician　fired　a　heartbeat　later　and　Kroeger　rocked
back　on　his　heels　as　the　impact　blasted　a　crater　in　his　power　armour。　Before　the　Imperial　could　shoot　again；　Kroeger　was　upon
him；　backhanding　his　fist　across　his　face　and　decapitating　him　in　an　explosion　of　blood　and　bone。
The　adept　fired　again；　the　blast　scoring　across　Kroeger's　back。　He　spun；　plucking　the　pistol　from　the　man　and　tearing　the　hand
from　his　wrist。　The　adept　dropped　to　his　knees；　open　mouthed　in　horror　as　blood　jetted　from　the　ragged　stump。
Kroeger　drew　his　pistol；　ready　to　finish　off　the　fool；　when　a　sibilant；　velvet　voice　hissed　from　the　blasted　doorway。
'You　would　cost　me　my　victory；　Kroeger？　That　would　be　unwise　of　you。'
Kroeger　spun；　the　blood　surging　to　his　head　as　he　lowered　his　weapon。
'No；　my　lord；'　he　stammered；　dropping　to　his　knees；　awed　and　humbled　at　the　unexpected　presence　of　the　Warsmith。
The　darkness　within　the　room　swelled　as　one　of　the　mightiest　leaders　of　the　Iron　Warriors　entered　to　claim　his　victory。　Kroeger
had　a　barely　perceived　vision　of　armour　of　darkest　iron；　almost　black；　and　a　ravaged　face　glowing　with　pale　light。　Horrible　vitality
pulsed　from　that　face。　Kroeger　fought　to　keep　from　vomiting　inside　his　helmet；　such　was　the　force　of　his　leader's　presence。
The　Warsmith's　burnished　armour　was　magnificent　and；　eyes　cast　down；　Kroeger　could　see　writhing　shapes　and　leering　faces
swimming　up　from　its　translucent　depths。　Their　agonised　wails　clawed　at　the　edge　of　his　hearing；　bound　forever　within　the　blasted
stuff　of　the　Warsmith's　body。　His　footfalls　fell　with　the　weight　of　ages；　imbued　with　the　authority　of　one　who　had　fought　alongside
the　Legion's　Primarch；　the　great　Perturabo；　on　the　accursed　soil　of　Terra。
Wisps　of　ghostly　smoke　smouldered　where　he　walked；　each　twisting　like　a　tormented　soul　before　fading　into　nothing。　Kroeger
dared　not　look　at　the　Warsmith　without　first　being　commanded；　for　fear　of　instant　death　at　the　hands　of　one　of　his　infernal
Terminator　bodyguards。　They　stood　a　respectful　distance　from　their　lord　as　he　slowly　circled　Kroeger。
The　Warsmith　brushed　his　gauntleted　fingers　along　his　scarred　armour　and　Kroeger　felt　intense　clamps　of　nausea　seize　him　in　a
burning　grip。　Every　cell　in　his　body　seemed　to　recoil　at　the　Warsmith's　touch　and　only　through　a　mantra　of　hate　did　Kroeger
remain　conscious。　Though　the　pain　was　intense；　he　felt　a　powerful　yearning　for　such　power。　What　must　it　be　like　to　command　the
power　of　the　empyrean；　to　have　its　unimaginable　power　pump　through　your　veins　like　blood　itself？
'You　are　reckless；　Kroeger。　Have　ten　thousand　years　of　battle　taught　you　nothing？'
'I　desire　only　to　serve　and　to　kill　those　who　would　deny　us　our　destiny。'
The　Warsmith　chuckled；　the　sound　like　earth　falling　on　a　coffin。　'Do　not　talk　to　me　of　destiny；　Kroeger。　I　know　why　you　fight　and
it　is　not　for　anything　so　lofty　as　that。'
Kroeger　felt　blinding　waves　of　pain　lance　through　his　skull　as　the　Warsmith　leaned　in　close　to　the　back　of　his　head。
'That　you　kill　the　lackeys　of　the　corpse…emperor　is　enough　for　me；　but　have　a　care　that　your　own　needs　do　not　interfere　with　mine。'
Kroeger　nodded；　unable　to　speak；　again　feeling　the　roiling　sensation　of　the　Warsmith's　impending　change　wash　over　him。　He
fought　to　retain　consciousness。
The　Warsmith　turned　from　him　and　Kroeger　sighed　in　relief。　The　master　of　the　Iron　Warriors　stood　over　the　still…twitching　form　of
the　adept　who'd　shot　at　him。　From　the　corner　of　his　eye；　he　saw　the　blurry　outline　of　the　Warsmith　bend　and　scrutinise　the　howling
adept　with　the　bleeding　stump。
'My　sorcerer；　Jharek　Kelmaur；　spoke　of　this　man。　The　servant　of　the　machine　with　only　one　hand。　He　is　important　to　me；　Kroeger。
And　you　almost　killed　him。'
'I…　I　beg　your　forgiveness；　my　lord；'　gasped　Kroeger。
'See