Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第27部分

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to　piss。”
“What　about　your　own　world　then；　new　fish？”　Bulaven　asked　afterwards；　as　they　sat　in　the　trench
waiting　for　the　newly　repaired　wall　to　freeze。　“You　asked　me　about　Vardan　before。　What　was　your
own　homeworld　like？”
Trying　to　think　of　an　answer；　for　a　moment　Larn　was　quiet。　He　thought　about　his　parents’　farm；
the　endless　golden　wheatfields　swaying　in　the　breeze。　He　thought　of　his　family；　all　of　them　sitting　at
their　places　around　the　table　in　the　kitchen　as　they　made　ready　for　their　evening　meal。　He　thought　of
that　last　beautiful　sunset；　the　sky　reddening　as　the　fiery　orb　of　the　descending　sun　fell　slowly
towards　the　horizon。　He　thought　of　the　world　he　had　left　behind；　and　of　all　the　things　he　would
never　see　again。
It　all　seems　so　long　ago　and　far　away　now；　he　thought。　As　though　all　those　things　were　a　million
kilometres　away　from　me。　The　sad　thing　is　they　are　even　farther　away　than　that。　Not　just　a　million；
but　millions　of　millions　of　kilometers；　however　far　it　was　we　came　in　that　troopship。
“I　don’t　know；”　he　said　at　last；　unable　to　find　the　words　to　say　what　he　really　felt。　“It　was
different　anyway。　A　lot　different　from　this　place。”
“Hnn。　I　think　our　new　fish　is　starting　to　feel　homesick；”　Davir　said。　“Not　that　I　blame　him；　you
understand；　any　place　would　seem　rosy　when　compared　to　this　damn　stinkhole。　You　find　me　in　a
strangely　magnanimous　mood　however；　new　fish；　so　let　me　give　you　a　piece　of　advice。　Whatever
wistful　longings　you　may　harbour　for　the　world　of　your　birth；　forget　them。　This　is　Broucheroc。
There　is　no　room　for　sentiment　here。　Here；　a　man　must　keep　himself　hard　and　tight　if　we　wants　to
live　to　see　tomorrow。”
“Is　that　it　then？”　Larn　asked。　“I　remember　Scholar　told　me　you　were　all　that　had　survived　from
over　six　thousand　men。　Is　that　how　you　did　it？　By　keeping　yourselves　hard　and　tight？”
“Ah；　now　there　you　have　touched　upon　an　interesting　question；　new　fish；”　Scholar　said。　“How
was　it　we　survived　when　so　many　of　our　fellows　didn’t？　You　can　be　sure　it　is　a　regular　topic　of
conversation　hereabouts。　Each　man　has　his　own　opinions。　Some　say　that　to　have　managed　to　live　so
long　in　Broucheroc　at　all；　we　must　have　been　born　survivors　to　begin　with。　Others　say　it　must　have
been　a　combination　of　fate　and　good　judgement；　or　perhaps　only　a　matter　of　poor　dumb　luck。　As　I
say；　everyone　has　their　own　opinions。　Their　own　theories。　For　myself；　I　am　not　sure　I　put　much　store
in　any　of　them。　We　survived　where　others　died。　That　is　all　I　can　tell　you。”
“I　always　thought　the　Emperor　must　have　had　a　hand　in　it；”　Bulaven　said；　his　expression　quiet
and　thoughtful。　“That　perhaps　He　was　saving　us　for　some　greater　purpose。　At　least；　that　is　what　I
used　to　believe。　After　so　many　years　in　Broucheroc；　a　man　begins　to　wonder。”
“The　Emperor？”　Davir　said；　throwing　his　hands　up　in　a　gesture　of　frustration。　“Really；　this　time
you　have　excelled　yourself；　Bulaven。　Of　all　the　lumpen…headed　stupidities　I　have　heard　pouring
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from　your　mouth　over　the　last　seventeen　years　since　we　were　inducted　into　the　Guard；　that　is
without　a　doubt　the　most　idiotic。　The　Emperor！　Phah！　You　think　the　Emperor　has　nothing　better　to
do　than　watch　over　your　fat　backside　and　make　sure　it　comes　to　no　harm？　Wake　up；　you　big　pile　of
horse　manure。　The　Emperor　doesn’t　even　know　we　exist。　And；　if　he　does　know；　he　doesn’t　care。”
“No！”　Larn　shouted；　the　sudden　loudness　of　his　voice　in　the　trench　startling　them。　“You　are
wrong。　You　don’t　know　what　you’re　talking　about！”　Then；　seeing　the　others　looking　at　him　in
bewilderment；　Larn　began　to　speak　again。　More　quietly　now；　the　words　spilling　heartfelt　from　his
mouth。
“I　am　sorry；”　he　said。　“I　didn’t　mean　to　yell。　But　I　heard　what　you　were　saying　and…　You　are
wrong；　Davir。　The　Emperor　does　care。　He　watches　over　all　of　us。　I　know　he　does。　And　I　can　prove
it。　If　the　Emperor　wasn’t　good　and　kind　and　just；　he　never　would　have　saved　my　great…grandfather’s
life。”
And　then；　as　about　him　the　others　sat　quietly　in　the　trench　and　listened；　Larn　told　them　the　same
tale　his　father　had　told　him　in　the　farmhouse　cellar　on　his　last　night　at　home。
He　told　them　about　his　great…grandfather。　About　how　his　name　was　Augustus　and　he　had　been　born
on　a　world　called　Arcadus　V。　He　told　them　about　his　being　called　into　the　Guard；　and　how　sad　he
had　felt　at　leaving　his　homeworld。　He　told　them　about　the　thirty　years　of　service　and　his　greatgrandfather’s
failing　health。　He　told　them　about　the　lottery　and　the　man　who　had　given　up　his　ticket。
He　told　them　it　iracle；　perhaps。　But；　a　miracle　all　the　same。　Then；　when　he
had　told　them　all　these　things　word　for　word　the　same　as　his　father　had　told　him；　Larn　fell　quiet　and
waited　to　hear　their　reaction。
“And　that　is　it？”　Davir　said；　the　first　to　speak　after　what　felt　to　Larn　like　an　age　of　silence。　“That
is　the　proof　you　talked　about？　This　tale　your　father　told　you？”
“It　is　an　interesting　story；　new　fish；”　Scholar　said；　his　expression　ill　at　ease。
“Hah！　Story　is　right；”　Zeebers　said；　looking　sarcastically　down　at　Larn　from　up　on　the　firing
step。　“A　fairy　story；　like　parents　tell　their　children　to　make　them　sleep。　You　believe　that　crap；　new
fish；　maybe　you　should　go　tell　your　story　to　the　orks　and　see　if　a　miracle　saves　you　then。”
“Shut　up；　Zeebers！”　Bulaven　snapped。　“You’re　supposed　to　be　on　watch；　not　flapping　your　lips
about。　And　it　is　not　as　though　anyone　asked　for　your　opinion。　Leave　the　new　fish　alone。”　Then；
seeing　he　had　cowed　Zeebers　to　silence；　Bulaven　turned　towards　Larn　again。　“Scholar　was　right；
new　fish。　It　was　a　very　interesting　story；　and　you　told　it　well。”
“Is　that　all　you　are　going　to　say？”　Larn　asked；　surprised。　“You　all　sound　like　you　think
something　is　wrong。　As　though　you　don’t　believe　what　I　just　told　you。”
“We　don’t　believe　it；　new　fish。”　Davir　was　blunt。　“Granted；　Scholar　and　Bulaven　are　trying　to　be
soothing　about　it。　But　they　don’t　believe　it　either。　None　of　us　do。　Frankly；　if　the　story　you　just　told
us　is　what　passes　your　benchmark　for　a　miracle；　you　are　even　more　of　an　innocent　than　you　look。”
“I　would　have　expected　you　to　say　that　Davir；”　Larn　said。　“You　don’t　believe　in　anything。　But
what　about　the　rest　of　you？　Scholar？　Bulaven？　Surely　you　can　see　that　what　happened　to　my　greatgrandfather
was　a　miracle？　That　it　is　proof　that　the　Emperor　watches　out　for　us？”
“It　is　not　a　matter　of　believing　you；”　Scholar　said；　lifting　his　shoulders　in　a　helpless　shrug。　“It　is
just　that　even　if　we　accept　the　details　of　your　story　are　true；　new　fish；　those　same　details　are　open　to
a　variety　of　interpretations。”
“Interpretations？”　Larn　said。　“What　are　you　talking　about？
“He　is　saying　you　are　being　naive；　new　fish；”　Davir　said。　“Oh；　he’s　doing　it　in　that　scholarly　way
of　his；　of　course　—　just　tip…toeing　around　the　subject　rather　than　coming　right　out　and　saying　what　is
on　his　mind　directly。　But　he　thinks　you　are　naive。　We　all　do。”
“You　have　to　understand　our　experience　of　life　makes　us　see　these　things　differently；”　Scholar
said。
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“But　how　is　there　any　different　way　to　see　it？”　Larn　said。　“You　heard　the　story。　What　about　the
man　giving　my　great…grandfather　his　ticket？　Surely　you　can　see　that　must　have　been　the　hand　of　the
Emperor　at　work？”
“Far　be　it　for　me　to　shatter　your　illusions；　new　fish；”　Davir　said。　“But　I　doubt　the　hand　of　the
Emperor　had　anything　to　do　with　it。　No；　likely　the　only　hands　involved　in　it　at　all　would　have
belonged　to　your　great…grandfather。”
“I…　What　do　you　mean？”
“He　killed　him；　new　fish；”　Davir　said。　“The　man　with　the　ticket。　Your　great…grandfather　killed
him　and　took　his　ticket　from　him。　That’s　your　miracle。”
“No；”　Larn　said；　looking　quietly　from　face　to　face　in　disbelief。　“You　are　wrong。”
“Course　I　can　see　how　it　could　have　happened；”　Davir　said。　“There’s　your　great…grandfather。
He’s　sick。　Ailing。　He　knows　winning　the　lottery　is　his　only　chance　of　making　it　out　of　the　Guard
alive。　Then；　when　someone　else　gets　the　winning　ticket；　he　realises　only　that　one　man’s　life　stands
between　him　and　freedom。　And　he　was　a　soldier。　He’d　killed　before。　What　is　one　more　life　in　the
grand　scale　of　things；　he　tells　himself。　It’s　a　dog…eat…dog　universe；　new　fish；　and　it　sounds　like　your
great…grandfather　was　a　dirtier　dog　than　most。”
“No；”　Larn　said。　“You’re　not　listening　to　me。　I’m　telling　you；　you’re　wrong　about　this。　You　are
sick；　Davir。　How　could　you　even　think　something　like　that？”
“It　is　the　name；　new　fish；”　Scholar　said　sadly。　“Or　the　lack　of　one；　I　mean’
“Yes；　the　name；”　Davir　said。　“That’s　what　clinches　it”
“What　are　you…　I　don’t　understand…”
“They’re　talking　about　the　name　of　the　man　who　gave　your　great…grandfather　the　ticket；　new
fish；”　Bulaven　said　with　a　sigh。　“It　wasn’t　part　of　the　story。　And　you　must　be　able　to　see　that　makes
all　the　difference？　I　am　sorry　to　tell　you　this；　but　that　is　what　proves　your　great…grandfather　killed
him。”
“The　name？”　Larn　was　floundering　now；　his　stomach　churning；　his　head　dizzying　as　though　the
world　about　him　had　suddenly　begun　to　turn　strangely　on　its　axis。
“Think　about　it；　new　fish；”　Davir　said。　“This　man　is　supposed　to　have　saved　your　greatgrandfather’s
life。　Your　great…grandfather　must　have　known　his　name。　He　was　a　comrade　of　his；
remember？　A　man　who　had　fought　side…by…side　with　him　through　thirty　years　in　the　Guard？　And
yet；　years　later；　when　your　great…grandfather　tells　the　tale　to　his　son　he　somehow　neglects　to　even
mention　the　name　of　the　man　who　saved　his　life？　It　doesn’t　add　up；　new　fish。　Especially　considering
you　told　us　your　great…grandfather　was　a　pious　man。　A　man　like　that；　if　somebody　does　them　a　good
turn　they　remember　them　in　their　prayers　to　the　Emperor　for　the　rest　of　their　life。”
“It　does　have　the　ring　of　a　guilty　conscience　about　it；　new　fish。”　Scholar　said。　“Though；　if　it　is
any　consolation　to　you；　it　also　suggests　your　great…grandfather　was　not　given　easily　to　murder。　If
he’d　been　a　more　coldblooded　man；　presumably　he’d　have　just　told　his　son　the　man’s　name　and
thought　no　more　about　it。”
“Not　really；　Scholar；”　Davir　said。　“Even　though　years　had　passed　by　then；　he　could’ve　still　been
worried　about　his　crime　being　found　out。　Maybe　he　thought　it　was　better　to　let　bad　dogs　lie；　and
never　mention　the　name　ever。　Either　way；　it　doesn’t　really　make　any　difference。　Your　greatgrandfather
killed　the　man；　new　fish；　and　stole　his　ticket。　That’s　all　there　is　to　it。　So　much　for
miracles。”
“No。　You’ve　got　it　wrong；”　Larn　said。　“There　must　be　another　explanation。　One　you　haven’t
thought　of。　Surely　you　can　see　that　my　great…grandfather　wouldn’t　have　done　anything　like　that？”
But　as　Larn　looked　at　them　it　was　clear　to　him　that　was　exactly　what　they　did　believe。　Davir；
Scholar；　Bulaven；　Zeebers。　All　of　them。　Looking　at　the　faces　of　each　man　in　the　trench；　Larn　could
see　their　minds　were　made　up。　There　had　been　no　miracle。　No　example　of　the　Emperor’s　grace。　To
them；　it　was　a　simple　matter。　His　great…grandfather　had　killed　a　man；　then　lied　about　it　afterwards。
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“No；”　Larn　said　at　last；　hating　how　weak　his　voice　sounded　and　way　it　wavered。　“No。　You　are
wro