Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第10部分

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before　their　artillery　finds　the　range　and　starts　to　loop　shells　over　the　lander　to　land　right　on　top　of
us。”
“Maybe　this　is　all　a　mistake？”　Vorrans　said；　his　face　alive　with　the　glimmer　of　desperate　hope。
“That’s　it；　mistaken　identity。　Maybe　it’s　our　own　side　doing　the　shooting　and　they　don’t　know　who
we　are。　We　could　make　a　white　flag　and　try　to　signal　them。”
“Shut　up；　Vors。　You’re　talking　like　an　idiot。”　Hallan　snapped。　Then；　seeing　Vorrans　look　at　him
in　shock；　he　softened　his　tone。　“Believe　me；　Vors；　there’s　nothing　mistaken　about　it。　There’s　a　ten30
metre　tall　Imperial　eagle　painted　on　each　side　of　the　hull　of　the　lander。　The　people　shooting　at　us
know　exactly　who　we　are。　That’s　why　they’re　trying　to　kill　us。　Our　only　way　out　of　this　is　to　try　and
make　for　our　own　lines。　Though　we’ll　need　to　find　out　where　they　are　first。”
“There！”　Leden　said；　his　finger　pointing　eastward。　“You　see　it　—　the　eagle　in　the　distance。
Sweet　Emperor；　we’re　saved。”
Turning　to　follow　the　direction　of　Leden’s　jabbing　finger；　Larn　saw　a　flagpole　rising　from　the
rubble…strewn　outskirts　of　the　city。　At　its　top　a　worn　and　ragged　flag：　an　Imperial　eagle；　fluttering　in
the　breeze。
“You’re　right；　Leden；”　Hallan　said；　the　excitement　in　his　voice　drawing　the　attention　of　the　rest
of　the　company　as　dozens　of　eyes　turned　to　look　toward　the　flag。　“It’s　our　own　lines；　all　right。　If　you
look　closely　you　can　see　the　outlines　of　camouflaged　bunkers　and　firing　emplacements。　That’s
where　we　should　be　headed。”
“But　it’s　got　to　be　seven　or　eight　hundred　metres　away　at　least；　Hals；”　Vorrans　protested。　“With
nothing　between　us　and　that　flag　but　open　ground。　We’ll　never　make　it。”
“We　don’t　have　any　choice；　Vors；”　Hallan　said。　Then；　seeing　the　eyes　of　every　other　Guardsman
in　the　company　were　on　him；　he　turned　to　them；　his　voice　raised　loud　enough　to　be　heard　among　the
din　of　gunfire。　“Listen　to　me；　all　of　you。　I　know　you’re　scared。　Zell　knows；　I　am　too。　But　if　we　stay
here　we　are　as　good　as　dead。　Our　only　chance　is　to　make　for　that　flag！”
For　a　moment　there　was　no　response　as　the　Guardsmen　cast　frightened　eyes　from　the　now
burning　lander　to　the　wide　expanse　of　open　ground　before　them。　Each　man　weighing　an　unwelcome
decision：　to　stay　and　risk　an　undetermined　death　sometime　in　the　future；　or　to　run　and　risk　an
immediate　death　in　the　present。　Then；　suddenly；　a　shell　landed　on　their　side　of　the　lander　no　more
than　five　metres　from　where　they　were　standing　and　the　decision　was　made　for　them。
They　ran。
Breathless；　terror　dogging　his　every　step；　Larn　ran　with　them。　He　ran；　as　from　behind　them　there
came　a　remorseless　tide　of　gunfire　as　the　unseen　enemy　tried　to　shoot　them　down。　He　saw　men　die
screaming　all　around　him；　red　gore　spraying　from　chests　and　arms　and　heads　as　the　bullets　struck
them。　He　saw　men　killed　by　falling　shells；　bodies　torn　apart　by　blast　and　shrapnel；　heads　and　limbs
dismembered　in　an　instant。　All　the　time　he　kept　his　eyes　glued　on　the　flag　…　his　would…be　refuge　—
in　the　distance　before　him。　His　every　breath　a　silent　prayer　in　the　hope　of　salvation。　His　every　step
one　closer　to　making　that　salvation　a　reality。
As　he　ran；　he　saw　friends　and　comrades　die。　He　saw　Hallan　fall　first；　his　right　eye　exploding
from　its　socket　to　make　way　for　the　bullet　passing　though　it；　his　mouth　open　in　a　cry　of
encouragement　to　his　fellow　Guardsmen　that　would　never　be　finished。　Then　Vorrans；　his　torso
ruptured　and　mutilated　as　a　dozen　pieces　of　shrapnel　exploded　through　his　chest。　Other　men　fell：
some　he　had　known　by　name；　others　he　had　known　only　by　sight。　All　of　them　killed　as；　just　as
breathless　and　desperate　as　he　was；　they　ran　for　the　flag。　Until　at　last；　with　most　of　his　comrades
dead　already　and　the　flag　still　a　hundred　metres　away；　Larn　realised　he　would　never　make　it。
“Here！　Over　here！　Quickly；　this　way！　Over　here！”
Suddenly；　hearing　shouting　voices　nearby　Larn　turned　to　see　a　group　of　Guardsmen　in　greyblack
camouflage　appear　as　if　from　nowhere　to　beckon　him　towards　them。　Changing　direction　to
head　for　them；　he　saw　they　had　emerged　from　a　firing　trench　and　raced　towards　it　with　enemy
bullets　chewing　up　the　ground　around　him。　Until　at　last；　reaching　the　trench；　he　leapt　inside　to
safety。
Trying　to　catch　his　breath　as　he　lay　at　the　bottom　of　the　trench；　looking　about　him　Larn　saw　five
Guardsmen　standing　around　him　in　the　confines　of　the　trench：　all　clad　in　the　same　uniform　of　greyblack
patterned　greatcoats；　mufflers　and　fur…shrouded　helmets。　At　first　they　ignored　him；　their　eyes
turned　to　scan　the　killing　fields　he　had　just　escaped　from。　Then；　one　of　the　Guardsmen　turned　to
look　down　towards　him　with　a　grimace　and　finally　spoke。
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“This　is　Vidmir　in　trench　three；　sergeant；”　the　Guardsmen　said；　pressing　a　stud　at　his　collar　as
Larn　realised　he　was　speaking　down　a　comm…link。　“We　have　one　survivor。　I　think　a　few　more　made
it　to　the　other　trenches。　But　most　of　those　poor　dumb　bastards　are　dead　out　there　in　no…man’s　land。
Over。”
“I　can　see　movement　on　the　ork　side；”　one　of　the　other　Guardsmen　said；　standing　looking　over
the　trench　parapet。　“All　this　killing　must　have　got　their　blood　up。　They’re　getting　ready　for　an
attack。”　Then；　while　Larn　was　still　wondering　if　he　had　really　heard　the　word　“ork”；　he　saw　the　man
turn　away　from　the　parapet　to　look　towards　him。
“Assuming　that　uniform　you’re　wearing　is　not　just　for　show；　new　fish；　you　might　want　to　stand
up　and　get　your　lasgun　ready。　There’s　going　to　be　shooting。”
Pulling　himself　to　his　feet；　Larn　unslung　his　lasgun；　stepping　forward　as　the　other　Guardsmen
moved　sideways　to　make　space　for　him　on　the　trench’s　firing　step。　Then；　as　he　checked　his　lasgun
and　made　ready　to　put　it　to　his　shoulder；　he　saw　something　that　caused　him　to　wonder　if　his　first
combat　drop　might　have　gone　even　more　badly　wrong　than　he　could　have　thought。　As；　from　the
corner　of　his　eye；　he　spotted　a　bullet…riddled　wooden　sign　erected　behind　and　slightly　to　one　side　of
the　trench。　A　sign　whose　ironic　greeting　gave　him　pause　to　wonder　if　he　really　was　where　he
thought　he　was　at　all。
A　sign　that　said：
Welcome　to　Broucheroc。
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CHAPTER　SIX
12：09　hours　Central　Broucheroc　Time
Questions　of　Interstellar　Geography　and　Other　Revelations　—　A　Bad　Day　in　Hell　—　The　Waaagh！
—　A　Baptism　of　Fire　—　Hand…To…Hand　against　the　Enemy　—　An　Opinion　as　to　the　Best　Method　of
Killing　a　Gretchin
“They’re　getting　ready　to　move　all　right；”　the　Guardsman　said　next　to　him；　spitting　a　wad　of　greasy
phlegm　over　the　trench　parapet。　“They’ll　hit　us　hard　this　time；　and　in　numbers。　It’s　the　blood　that
does　it；　you　see。　Our　blood；　I　mean。　Human　blood。　The　sight　and　smell　of　it　always　makes　’em　more
willing　and　eager　for　a　fight。　Though；　Emperor　knows；　your　average　ork　is　usually　pretty　eager　to
begin　with。”
His　name　was　Repzik：　Larn　could　see　the　faded　letters　of　the　name　stencilled　on　the　tunic　of　the
man’s　uniform　under　his　greatcoat。　Standing　beside　him　on　the　firing　step；　Larn　followed　the
direction　of　his　eyes　to　look　into　the　landscape　he　now　knew　as　no…man’s　land。
No　matter　how　intently　he　stared　across　the　bleak　fields　of　frozen　mud　before　them　he　could　see
no　movement；　nor　for　that　matter　any　other　sign　of　the　enemy。　Ahead；　no…man’s　land　seemed　as　flat；
featureless　and　devoid　of　life　as　it　had　when　he　had　emerged　from　the　lander　to　his　first　view　of　it
barely　ten　minutes　ago。　The　only　difference　now　was　the　addition　of　the　burning　shell　of　the　lander
itself　and　with　it　the　bodies　of　his　company　strewn　haphazard　and　bloody　across　the　frozen
landscape。　Abruptly；　as　he　looked　out　at　the　remains　of　men　he　had　known　as　friends　and　comrades；
Larn　felt　the　beginnings　of　tears　stinging　wetly　at　the　corners　of　his　eyes。
Jenks　is　dead；　he　thought。　And　Hallan；　Vorrans；　Lieutenant　Winters；　even　Sergeant　Ferres。　I
don’t　see　Leden。　Perhaps　he　is　still　alive　somewhere。　But　nearly　every　man　I　came　here　with　from
Jumael　is　lying　dead　out　there　in　no…man’s　land。　All　of　them　slaughtered　within　minutes　of　landing；
without　even　having　fired　a　shot。
“It’s　a　pity　about　your　comrades；”　Repzik　said；　his　voice　almost　kindly　as　Larn　clenched　his　eyes
to　try　and　stop　the　other　men　in　the　trench　from　seeing　his　tears。　“But　they’re　dead　and　you　ain’t。
What　you　need　to　start　thinking　about　now　is　how　you’re　going　to　stop　yourself　from　joining　them。
The　orks　are　coming；　new　fish。　If　you　want　to　live　you’re　going　to　have　to　keep　yourself　hard　and
tight。”
“Orks？”　Larn　said；　trying　to　concentrate　his　mind　on　the　practical　in　an　effort　to　lay　his　grief
aside。　“You　said　‘orks’？　I　didn’t　know　there　were　any　orks　on　Seltura　VII？”
“Could　be　that’s　true；”　Repzik　said；　as　beside　him　one　of　the　other　Guardsmen　looked　to　the　sky
in　silent　exasperation。　“Fact　is；　you’d　have　to　ask　somebody　who’s　actually　been　there。　Here　in
Broucheroc　though　we　generally　have　more　orks　than　we　know　what　to　do　with。”
“Wait；”　asked　Larn；　confused；　“are　you　telling　me　this　planet　isn’t　Seltura　VII？”
“Well；　I　wasn’t　specifically　commenting　on　it；　new　fish；”　Repzik　said。　“But　since　you　ask；　you’d
be　right　enough。　This　place　isn’t　Seltura　VII　—　wherever　in　hell　that　is。”
Stunned；　for　a　moment　Larn　wondered　if　he　had　somehow　misunderstood　the　man’s　meaning。
Then；　he　looked　out　again　at　the　treeless　landscape　and　was　struck　by　all　the　troubling
inconsistencies　between　what　he　had　been　told　to　expect　on　Seltura　VII　and　the　stark　brutal　realities
of　the　world　he　saw　before　him。　They　had　made　the　drop　three　weeks　early。　There　were　no　forests。　It
was　winter　rather　than　summer。　The　war　here　was　against　orks；　not　PDF　rebels。　A　catalogue　of　facts
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that；　with　a　dawning　horror　born　of　slow　realisation；　pushed　him　inexorably　toward　a　sudden　and
shocking　conclusion。
Holy　Throne；　he　thought。　They　sent　us　to　the　wrong　planet！
“I　shouldn’t　be　here；”　he　said　aloud。
“It’s　funny　how　everyone　tends　to　think　that　when　they’re　waiting　for　an　attack　to　begin；”　said
Repzik。　“I　wouldn’t　worry　about　it；　new　fish。　Once　the　orks　get　here　you’ll　soon　find　yourself
feeling　right　at　home。”
“No；　you　don’t　understand；”　Larn　said。　“There　has　been　a　terrible　mistake。　My　company　was
supposed　to　be　going　to　the　Seltura　system。　To　a　world　called　Seltura　VII；　to　put　down　a　mutiny
among　the　local　PDF。　Something　must　have　gone　wrong　because　I’m　on　the　wrong　planet。”
“So？　What　is　that　to　me？”　Repzik　said；　his　eyes　as　he　looked　at　Larn　seemed　little　warmer　than
the　landscape　around　them。　“You　are　on　the　wrong　planet。　You　are　in　the　wrong　system。　Not　to
mention　probably　the　wrong　war。　Get　used　to　it；　new　fish。　If　that　is　the　worst　thing　that　happens　to
you　today；　you　will　have　been　lucky。”
“But　you　don’t　understand—”
“No。　It　is　you　who　does　not　understand；　new　fish。　This　is　Broucheroc。　We　are　surrounded　by　ten
million　orks。　And　right　now　some　of　those　orks　—　maybe　only　a　few　thousand　or　so；　if　we　are　lucky
—　are　getting　ready　to　attack　us。　They　don’t　care　what　planet　you　think　you　should　be　on。　They
don’t　care　that　you　think　you’re　in　the　wrong　place；　that　you’re　wet　behind　the　ears；　or　that　you’re
probably　not　even　old　enough　to