Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第23部分

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engine’s　machine…spirits　and　almost　brimmed　over　with　gratitude　towards　them　when　they　came
alive　for　her。
The　frame　of　the　truck　juddered　as　she　pulled　away；　and　the　vehicle　proceeded　in　fits　and　starts；
and　almost　stalled。　But　Anakora　was　getting　a　feel　for　its　workings；　and　she　picked　up　speed　as　she
pulled　the　steering　wheel　around　hard。　And　now　Steele　and　the　Chaos　Space　Marine　were　dead
ahead　of　her。
They　heard　her　coming；　of　course。　She　had　been　counting　on　that；　counting　on　Steele　being　able
to　get　out　of　her　way　somehow。　As　the　chainsword　lashed　out　again；　he　feinted　and；　instead　of
ducking　beneath　its　teeth；　he　darted　inwards；　caught　the　Chaos　Space　Marine’s　elbow；　and　twisted
and　pushed　for　all　he　was　worth。
He　couldn’t　overbalance　his　opponent　—　he　was　too　strong；　too　heavy　—　but　he　did　make　him
shift　his　footing；　and　that　gave　Steele　the　tiniest　of　openings。　It　gave　him　time　enough　to　disengage
from　the　battle；　and　to　throw　himself　backwards。　Seeing　what　he　was　doing；　the　Chaos　Space
Marine　made　a　grab　for　him；　tried　to　make　a　human　shield　out　of　him；　but　Steele　was　just　a　fraction
too　fast　for　him　—　and　Anakora　had　a　clear　ran　at　her　target。　She　floored　the　accelerator　pedal。
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The　Chaos　Space　Marine　whirled　to　face　her；　flexing　his　powerful　leg　muscles；　making　to　jump。
For　a　moment；　Anakora　thought　he　was　actually　going　to　make　it；　thought　he　was　going　to　leap　up
onto　the　bonnet；　thrust　his　hands　through　the　windscreen　and　find　her　throat。　But　then　the　track
smacked　into　him；　and　carried　him　ten　metres　or　more；　before；　with　a　rending　and　a　screeching　of
metal　and　plasteel；　it　slammed　him　hard　into；　and　almost　through；　a　solid　stone　wall。
Anakora　was　flung　forward；　and　her　head　hit　the　windscreen；　shattering　the　plexiglas。　Her
helmet　protected　her；　but　she　was　dazed。　She　thought　the　sensation　she　could　feel　in　her　stomach；
the　feeling　that　the　world　was　tilting；　was　a　symptom　of　nausea；　until　firm　hands　took　her　shoulders；
and　she　was　distantly　aware　that　Steele　had　reached　into　the　cab；　grabbed　her；　and　was　dragging　her
out　of　there。
Even　so；　the　sword　was　inching　its　way　towards　the　colonel’s　heart；　howling　as　if　in　anticipation
of　the　moment　when　it　would　sink　its　teeth　into　his　flimsy　armour。
Anakora　raised　her　gun；　but　Steele　yelled；　“No！　Leave　me！　Find　the　others！　Complete　the
mission！　I’ll　hold　this　thing　off　for　as　long　as　I　can！”
She　was　rooted　to　the　spot；　still　unsure；　still　thinking。　If　only　I　could　find　some　way　to　die
instead　of　him。　She　couldn’t　be　the　one　to　report　to　the　others　that　he’d　fallen；　that　she　had　done
nothing　to　stop　it；　nothing　but　run。　She　couldn’t　do　that　again。
She　moved　around　behind　the　Chaos　Space　Marine；　putting　his　great　bulk　between　her　and
Steele。　She　set　her　gun　to　full　auto　and　pounded　him　with　las…fire　until　her　power　pack　was
exhausted　—　by　which　time　she　had　burned　through　his　armour　and　dislodged　a　shoulder　plate；　but
Steele　was　on　his　knees；　unable　to　keep　his　attacker　at　bay　for　much　longer；　and　through　clenched
teeth；　in　a　hoarse　voice；　he　yelled；　“Get　out　of　here。　That’s　an　order；　Trooper　Anakora。　Go！”
She　had　no　choice　now。　Anakora　ran　—　because；　if　there　was　one　thing　the　Imperial　Guard
instilled　in　its　troopers；　one　mantra　by　which　they　lived；　it　was　that　an　order　was　always　to　be
obeyed；　immediately　and　without　question。
That；　and　because　Steele　was　right；　because　she　couldn’t　achieve　anything　by　staying；　because
the　Emperor　would　have　disapproved　of　her　giving　her　life　in　a　lost　cause；　taking　the　easy　way　out。
Anakora　ran；　with　the　ghosts　of　Astaroth　Prime　howling　in　her　ears。
And　the　teeth　of　the　chainsword　gave　one　final；　piercing　scream　behind　her；　and　then　silence
fell。
That　damned　itch　had　spread　to　Pozhar’s　shoulder。
He　almost　wished　the　Chaos　Space　Marine　had　come　after　him　instead　of　choosing　another
target。　He　longed　to　be　discovered　by　more　Traitor　Guardsmen。
It　was　no　longer　just　that　he　wished　to　serve　the　Emperor　through　combat。　It　had　become　much
more　than　that。　When　Pozhar　was　fighting；　he　couldn’t　feel　what　was　happening　to　him。　He　could
believe　that；　when　the　fighting　stopped；　everything　would　be　all　right　—　that；　through　the　practice　of
exercising　his　muscles　in　a　righteous　cause；　he　could　somehow　cleanse　his　system；　force　a　reversal
of　the…　the…
He　couldn’t　even　think　the　word；　couldn’t　form　it　in　his　mind。
He　would　have　hacked　off　his　own　arm　to　keep　the　grey　fur　from　spreading；　had　there　been　a
way　to　do　that　without　betraying　his　shame　to　everyone。
He　tried　not　to　think　about　it；　tried　to　concentrate　on　the　gloomy　surroundings　of　the　sewer
tunnel　and　on　his　comrades。　Sergeant　Gavotski　was　walking　at　the　head　of　the　six…strong　group　with
Tollenberg。　The　rest　of　the　Ice　Warriors　were　behind　them；　with　the　red…headed　woman　bringing　up
the　rear。
“How　many　of　you　are　there？”　asked　Gavotski。
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“A　couple　of　hundred；”　said　their　guide。　“We　were　civilians　before　the　war：　miners；
administrators；　teachers。　When　Chaos　came　to　our　doorsteps；　we　gathered　in　the　chapels　to　pray　for
His　guidance。　When　the　chapels　fell；　He　led　us　into　these　tunnels。”
“You　should　have　stayed　and　fought；”　grumbled　Blonsky。
“We’re　fighting　now；”　Tollenberg　assured　him；　“fighting　to　keep　our　minds　pure；　learning　how
to　use　what　weapons　we　can　scavenge；　preparing　for　the　day　when　the　Imperial　army　arrives　to
retake　our　home。　On　that　day；　we　will　emerge　into　our　streets　again；　into　the　traitors’　midst；　and　we
will　die　for　that　glorious　cause。”
His　words　swelled　something　in　Pozhar’s　heart。　He　wished　he　could　tell　this　eager　young　man
that　salvation　was　on　its　way；　that　the　Ice　Warriors　were　merely　the　vanguard　for　a　far　larger　force；
and　that　the　loyalists　of　Cressida　had　not　been　abandoned。　He　wished　he　could　join　them　in　their
fight；　a　glorious　cause　indeed。
“We　have　a　mission；”　said　Gavotski；　skirting　the　issue；　“a　very　specific　mission。　We　have　come
here　to　rescue　one　man。”
“Confessor　Wollkenden；　yes。”　Tollenberg　nodded。　“We　know　about　him。”
“Then　you　know　we　have　to　get　to　the　Ice　Palace。”
“And　you’re　leading　us　away　from　it；”　said　Grayle；　suddenly。　He　had　been　inspecting　his
compass　in　the　yellow　lamplight；　but　he　was　not　as　adept　with　it　as　Palinev　would　have　been；　and　it
had　taken　him　some　time　to　confirm　his　suspicions。
They　had　been　walking　along　a　narrow　ledge；　in　single　file；　but　now　the　brickwork　tapered　away
and　they　were　forced　back　into　the　water。　Pozhar　thought　he　felt　something　—　a　cold；　wriggling
something　—　brushing　against　his　foot。
“The　direct　approach　is　dangerous；”　said　Tollenberg。　“Mangellan　may　not　have　men　down　here；
but　there　are　other　things；　dreadful　things；　in　the　dark　—　and　the　closer　you　get　to　the　Ice　Palace；　the
worse　the　corruption　becomes。”
“We’re　not　afraid　of　any　stinking　mutants！”　grumbled　Pozhar。
Tollenberg　fixed　him　with　a　long；　narrow…eyed　look　that　the　young　trooper　couldn’t　quite　read。
Then；　quietly；　he　said；　“No；　I　am　sure　you’re　not。　Still；　we　can　help　you　avoid　the　worst　of　the
dangers　—　if　you　trust　us。”
There　was　something　wrong。
Blonsky　knew　it　as　soon　he　emerged　into　the　candlelit　chapel；　as　soon　as　he　was　able　to　stand
upright；　and　his　hand　went　to　his　lasgun。
They　had　climbed　another　ladder　—　a　short　one；　this　time　—　and　Tollenberg　had　rapped　on　the
underside　of　a　manhole　cover　at　its　top：　the　same　signal　as　before；　three　taps；　then　a　pause；　then　two
more。　The　cover　had　been　scraped　aside；　and　the　silhouette　of　another　smock…clad　man　had　loomed
over　them；　against　a　circular　background　of　flaring　light。　The　man　had　reached　down　a　hand　towards
them。
Blonsky　had　been　the　second　of　the　Ice　Warriors　to　be　hauled　up　out　of　the　hole；　behind　Pozhar
—　and　immediately；　he　had　detected　the　stench　of　Chaos。　But　reeking　as　he　was；　as　they　all　were；
from　the　sewer　water；　he　couldn’t　pinpoint　its　source　—　and；　casting　around；　he　could　see　no
immediate　threat。
Perhaps；　he　thought；　his　senses　were　reacting　to　the　desecration　of　this　once…holy　place。　Some
effort　had　been　made　by　the　loyalists　to　reclaim　the　building；　to　reconstruct　the　altar　and　to　scrub　the
disgusting　Chaos　sigils　from　the　walls　—　but　still；　he　couldn’t　help　but　feel　that　the　spirit　of　the
God…Emperor　had　withdrawn　from　here　and　that　no　amount　of　restitution　could　induce　its　return。
At　one　end　of　the　chapel；　two　ornate　pillars　had　been　shattered；　bringing　about　a　partial　collapse
of　the　vaulted　ceiling。　A　little　daylight　spilled　in　through　a　broken　window　frame；　and　glinted　off
fragments　of　coloured　glass　amid　the　rubble。　Wall　hangings　had　been　torn　down　and　burnt。
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There　were　more　figures　here；　thirty　or　forty　of　them；　their　blue　worker’s　smocks　beginning　to
look　like　a　kind　of　uniform。　They　were　scrubbing　the　floors　or　trying　to　piece　together　the　remnants
of　broken　treasures；　or　just　kneeling　at　the　altar　in　silent　prayer。　All　of　them　started　to　react　to　the
arrival　of　four　strangers；　to　clamber　to　their　feet；　to　stare　in　both　awe　and　hope。
They　began　to　close　in　around　the　Ice　Warriors。
And　that　was　when　Blonsky　realised　what　was　happening：　when　he　saw　the　figures’　odd；
shambling　gaits　and　glimpsed　a　tuft　of　grey　fur　protruding　from　a　blue　sleeve。　And　he　drew　his
lasgun；　and　spun　around　and　shot　the　red…headed　woman　through　the　head　as　she　was　helping
Gavotski　up　from　the　ladder。　She　fell；　a　look　of　wounded　surprise　on　her　face；　and　Blonsky　turned　to
deal　with　Tollenberg。
He　had　been　beaten　to　it。　Their　fair…haired　young　guide　was　lying　at　Pozhar’s　feet；　his　hands
clutched　to　his　throat；　blood　welling　between　his　fingers。
“I　warned　you；”　Pozhar　snarled。　“I　told　you　what　I’d　do　to　you。”　And　as　Tollenberg　died；　his
smock　slipped　from　his　left　shoulder；　and　Blonsky　saw　a　bright　green　mole　on　his　skin；　proof　that　he
had　been　right。
By　now；　Grayle　was　reaching　for　his　weapon　too。　Gavotski　scrambled　to　his　feet；　looking　as
surprised　as　the　woman　had　been；　and　Blonsky　spelled　it　out　to　him：
“It’s　an　ambush；　sergeant。　They’re　mutants；　all　of　them。　They’re　stinking　mutants！”
This　was　getting　to　be　a　habit；　thought　Steele：　facing　his　own　death；　making　peace　with　it；　only　to　be
given　a　very　rude　awakening。
This　time；　even　the　mechanical　parts　of　his　brain　had　shut　down。　His　memories　ended　with　the
battle；　with　the　chainsword　that　had　shredded　his　armoured　greatcoat；　and　the　flesh　beneath　it。
Bleeding　from　the　chest；　Steele　had　fallen　onto　his　face；　and　blacked　out。　The　Chaos　Space　Marine
could　have；　should　have；　finished　him　off　there　and　then。　He　didn’t　know　why　he　hadn’t。
He　couldn’t　feel　his　legs。　He　was　surrounded　by　Traitor　Guardsmen。　They　were　pressed　up
against　him；　holding　his　arms；　half…carrying　him　so　that　his　feet　dragged　along　the　street　behind　him。
His　greatcoat　hung　open；　no　more　than　a　few　ragged　strips　of　plasfibre　now。　His　chest　and　his
stomach　were　stiff　with　synth…skin。
“He’s　awake！”　a　voice　grunted；　somewhere　near　his　ear。
“Yeah？　Then　why　are　we　still　carrying　him？”　He　felt　the　muzzle　of　a　lasgun　in　his　back；　and　the
second　voice　snarled；　“Get　walking；　Emperor…lover！”
Steele’s　response　to　this　was　short　and　succinct；　but　it　effectively　co