Gunheads(科幻战争)-第55部分

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might　not　be　long　until　New　Champion　was　on　her　back　like　that。　He　definitely　wasn’t　ready　to　die。
Most　of　the　dolts　around　him　thought　it　was　an　honour　to　die　for　a　so…called　God…Emperor　they　had
never　even　seen；　or　to　die　for　a　planet　that　had　sacrificed　them　to　a　life　of　war　in　that　same。
Emperor’s　name。　Not　Lenck。　He　still　had　scores　to　settle。　He　enjoyed　being　Voeder　Lenck　far　too
much　to　give　it　up　on　some　foolish　notion　of　honour　and　duty。
It　wasn’t　his　destiny　to　die　here。　He　knew　he　would　make　it　through。
Part　of　him　hoped　Wulfe　would　make　it；　too。
Wulfe　watched　two　massive；　ugly；　scar…faced　orks　climb　up　onto　the　outside　of　his　turret　and　start
hacking　at　it　with　their　axes。　Futile；　of　course；　but　he　knew　how　lucky　he　was　that　neither　of　them
appeared　to　be　carrying　explosives　or　a　burner。　All　he　could　do　was　tell　Metzger　to　keep　the　old　girl
moving　and　pray　they　wouldn’t　get　tagged　with　something　nasty。
Beans　was　firing　back　at　the　squiggoth；　but　it　was　hard　to　aim　with　all　the　jouncing　around。　With
armour…piercing　rounds；　he　had　managed　to　wound　the　beast　twice；　hitting　it　both　times　in　the　thick
muscles　of　its　front　right　leg。
Now　a　third　sound　punched　through　its　skin　and　buried　deep；　causing　the　creature　to　scream　and
rear　up　on　its　hind　legs；　towering　like　a　Titan　over　the　battlefield。　Even　the　orks　turned　and　gaped。
It　was　at　that　very　moment；　with　the　monster’s　belly　exposed　to　the　tanks　below；　that　a　long
yellow　muzzle　flame　erupted　from　the　end　of　Foe…Breaker’s　Vanquisher　cannon。　The　special　highvelocity
armour…piercing　shell　lanced　straight　into　the　monster’s　heart。
With　a　scream　that　hurt　Wulfe’s　ears　even　through　his　baffles；　the　squiggoth　collapsed　sideways；
tumbling　heavily　to　the　ground；　crushing　hundreds　of　orks　and　throwing　out　a　great　ring…shaped
cloud　of　dust。　The　impact　shook　the　entire　crater；　knocking　foot　soldiers　on　both　sides　from　their
feet。
Wulfe’s　tank　was　filled　with　cheering　and　whooping。　The　vox　erupted　with　similar　noises。
“Hell　of　a　shot；　sir！”　Wulfe　voxed。　“Give　old　Bullseye　a　slap　on　the　back　from　me。”
The　squiggoth　was　not　dead　yet。　Few　things　smaller　than　a　Titan　could　have　killed　such　a　beast
outright；　certainly　not　a　Vanquisher　tank。　As　the　dust　cleared；　Wulfe　could　see　the　slow　rise　and　fall
176
of　its　belly。　It　was　still　breathing；　but　it　was　desperately　weakened　and　pinned　to　the　ground　by　the
weight　of　the　massive　howdah　on　its　back。
It　wouldn’t　be　getting　back　to　its　feet。　Ever。　Its　death　would　be　long　and　slow。
It　was　too　much　for　the　orks。
Bad　enough　that　the　squiggoth　had　rampaged　through　their　ranks；　leaving　so　many　of　them　as
little　more　than　red　smears　on　the　battlefield；　now；　they　saw　the　Cadian　tanks　put　it　out　of　the　fight；
and　their　morale　shattered　like　glass。　Those　at　the　rear　broke　ranks　first；　fleeing　back　towards　the
settlement；　dropping　heavy　guns　and　blades　on　the　blood…soaked　sand。
The　Cadian　officers　recognised　this　for　exactly　what　it　was：　the　shift　that　signalled　victory。　They
rallied　their　troops；　pressed　their　advantage；　and　surged　forward。　Those　orks　that　did　not　flee
suddenly　found　themselves　facing　a　resurgent　foe。　Without　the　overwhelming　numbers　at　their　back；
they　were　lost。　Their　charred　bodies　fell　to　the　sand；　and　the　Cadians　charged　over　them。
General　deViers　felt　that　the　Emperor　must　surely　be　watching　him　at　that　moment。　His　destiny
had　not　abandoned　him。　His　legacy；　his　immortality；　was　within　reach。
“Forward；　Cadians；”　he　voxed；　“in　the　name　of　the　Emperor。　This　day　is　ours！”
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CHAPTER　THIRTY…TWO
The　Cadian　artillery　moved　up　to　join　the　rest　of　the　expedition　force；　and　began　pounding　the　ork
settlement　to　rusting　rubble。　This　was　something　for　which　the　orks　no　longer　had　an　answer。
Thousands　died　taking　shelter　in　their　pathetic　corrugated　huts　and　barracks。　Thousands　more　were
crushed　and　killed　when　the　Basilisks　turned　their　muzzles　towards　the　ork　foundries　and　levelled
them。　It　was　only　when　General　deViers　received　an　emergency　vox…call　from　Magos　Sennesdiar
that　the　shelling　abruptly　stopped。
“What　the　devil　are　you　doing；　sir？”　asked　Major　General　Rennkamp　on　the　vox。　“We’ve　got
them　right　where　we　want　them。　Keep　shelling。”
“Damn　it；　no！”　snapped　deViers。　“I　want　our　tanks　and　Chimeras　to　move　in。　Each　vehicle　is　to
have　infantry　support。　I　want　them　to　sweep　each　street；　each　building；　and　converge　on　the　far　side。
That’s　how　we’re　going　to　do　this。”
“With　respect；　sir；”　voxed　Major　General　Killian；　“that’s　bloody　nonsense。　The　orks　will　have
retreated　to　their　fallback　positions。　They’ll　be　dug…in。　You’re　sending　our　boys　straight　into　a　death
trap。　I　agree　with　Aaron。　We　have　to　pound　them　to　nothing　with　the　Basilisks　and　then　send　the
infantry　in　to　mop　up。　Anything　else　is　just—”
“Enough！”　snapped　deViers。　“I’ve　already　executed　one　officer　today。　Will　I　have　to　repeat　that
action？　I　will　not　risk　destroying　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance。　We　go　in　with　tanks　and　troops。　We’ve
already　beaten　them；　by　Throne。　They　won’t　put　up　much　more　of　a　fight。　I　want　our　tanks　up　front；
is　that　clear？　Bergen？”
“Clear；　sir；”　voxed　Bergen。　There　was　no　mistaking　the　tone　of　exhausted　resignation　in　his
voice。　His　armour　had　just　won　a　great　victory。　The　Basilisks　could　have　made　it　complete。
However；　if　the　damned　tech…priests　weren’t　lying　for　once；　the　most　famous　and　sacred　Baneblade
battle　tank　in　the　entire　Imperium　was　somewhere　up　ahead。　It　might　be　buried　under　a　frak…load　of
rusting　junk；　but　the　general　clearly　believed　it　was　there；　and　not　one　man　present　would　be　leaving
Golgotha　until　it　was　retrieved。
From　a　pre…expedition　total　of　over　one　hundred；　only　twenty…six　tanks　remained　in　the　ranks　of　the
81st　Armoured　Regiment。　They　moved　slowly　and　deliberately　through　the　twisting；　junk…filled
streets　of　the　ork　camp；　halting　frequently　to　blast　apart　ramshackle　towers　and　barracks　buildings
from　which　ork　rockets　and　stubber…fire　stabbed　out。　Vox…chatter　was　terse；　betraying　the　Cadians’
anxiety。　No　one　liked　moving　through　the　narrow　lanes。　The　shaky　metal　buildings　on　either　side
looked　ready　to　topple　at　any　second。　Their　construction　was　almost　laughable。　Beams　and　girders
stuck　out　at　every　angle。　Most　of　the　corrugated　metal　walls　looked　set　to　tear　away　on　the　next
wind。　It　was　a　wonder　any　of　them　stood　at　all。
Again　and　again；　the　Cadians　found　themselves　boxed　in。　Huge　armoured　orks；　some　of　them
almost　three　metres　tall；　poured　out　from　shadowed　corners　in　a　frenzy；　screaming　oaths　in　their　foul
xenos　tongue；　bloodstained　blades　and　hammers　held　high　above　their　heads。　The　tallest　were　so
dark…skinned　they　were　almost　black；　and　they　fought　with　ferocity　of　a　different　magnitude
altogether。　It　took　twice　as　much　fire　to　put　them　down　as　it　did　to　slay　the　other　members　of　the
squads　they　led。
If　not　for　the　tanks　and　their　crews　providing　hard　cover　and　fire　support　to　the　footsloggers；　any
progress　at　all　through　the　settlement　would　have　been　impossible。　There　were　too　many　damned
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bottlenecks。　The　Cadian　armour　made　all　the　difference；　but　it　wasn’t　long　before　van　Droi　started
hearing　voxed　reports　of　tanks　being　lost。
The　fourth　such　loss　was　Steelhearted　II。
Captain　Immrich　had　assigned　Viess　and　his　crate　as　armour　support　to　a　company　of　Colonel
Pruscht’s　116th　Lasgunners。　They　were　purging　an　avenue　half　a　kilometre　north　of　van　Droi’s
position　when　rockets　had　shredded　the　tank’s　left　tread；　rooting　her　to　the　spot。　The　infantry　had
immediately　moved　forward　to　return　fire；　only　to　be　cut　down　by　ork　heavy　weapon　teams　perched
on　the　nearby　roofs。　Then　the　ork　foot　soldiers　had　poured　in；　dragging　Viess　and　his　crew　out　of
their　hatches　and　hacking　them　to　pieces　on　the　street。
A　few　of　the　lasgunners　had　managed　to　break　away　from　the　fighting　and　report　what　had
happened。　The　commissars　would　probably　execute　them　later　on　charges　of　cowardice。
The　Gunheads　were　down　to　three　tanks。　Van　Droi　could　hardly　believe　it。　Soul…sapping　misery
hovered　over　him；　threatening　to　descend　and　engulf　him　at　any　second；　but　he　fought　hard　to　keep
it　at　bay。　Other　men　were　depending　on　him；　now；　a　platoon　of　Colonel　Stromm’s　Kasrkin　troopers。
They　followed　just　behind　his　crate；　hellgun　stocks　raised　to　their　armoured　shoulders。
He　couldn’t　afford　to　lose　focus。
Van　Droi　looked　out　from　his　cupola；　fists　tight　around　the　grips　of　his　pintle…mounted　heavy
bolter。　His　Vanquisher　had　already　been　stung　twice　—　once　on　the　glacis　and　once　on　the　mantlet
—　by　rockets　fired　from　blind　corners。　She　had　soaked　up　both　hits；　but　how　much　more　could　she
take？　Her　hide　was　scarred　silver　by　all　the　stubber…fire　she　had　drawn；　and　stained　black　where　the
rockets　had　struck。
Thinking　that　his　remaining　Gunheads　deserved　to　know　of　the　company’s　latest　loss；　he　hit　the
vox…link　button　on　his　headset　and　said；　“This　is　10th　Company　Command。　Listen　up；　Gunheads。
I’ve　just　heard　from　Colonel　Pruscht　that　Steelhearted　II　is　dead。　Viess　and　his　crew　are　gone。　So；
keep　your　damned　eyes　open；　both　of　you。　If　Yarrick’s　tank　is　here；　this　will　all　be　over　soon。　You
have　to　keep　it　tight　until　then。”
Two　brief　acknowledgements　came　back　to　him。　One　from　Wulfe；　one　from　Lenck。　Van　Droi
knew　they　utterly　detested　each　other。　They　were　just　about　as　different　as　two　men　could　be；　but
they　were　both　survivors。　They　had　that　much　in　common。
What　was　it　about　the　character　of　each　man；　he　wondered；　that　had　got　him　this　far　when　so
many　others　had　fallen　along　the　way？　Was　it　Lenck’s　self…serving　ruthlessness？　Wulfe’s　rigid
honour　code？　Or　his　almost　paternal　concern　for　the　lives　of　his　crew？
If　they　both　survived　this；　maybe　van　Droi　could　find　a　way　to　bridge　the　gap　between　them。
Troopers　who　disliked　each　other　at　first　were　often　bonded　by　the　trials　they　shared。　He　had　seen　it
before。
Then　again；　he　thought；　maybe　not。
Up　ahead；　he　noticed　that　the　avenue　was　quickly　widening。　The　ork　structures　were　bigger　and
more　widely　spaced　apart。　From　some　of　the　roofs；　great　crooked　armatures　reached　up　towards　the
sky。　They　looked　like　construction　cranes。　Their　heavy　steel　cables　swung　in　the　wind。
“Take　it　slow；　Nails；”　van　Droi　told　his　driver　over　the　intercom。　“It　looks　like　we’re
approaching　the　eastern　edge　of　the　settlement。　I　can’t　believe　we’ve　seen　everything　the　orks　have
left。”
Nails　shifted　down　a　gear；　prompting　a　question　from　the　Kasrkin　lieutenant　at　the　rear。
“Trouble　up　ahead？”　he　voxed。
“Can’t　be　sure；”　replied　van　Droi。　“Come　up　and　take　a　look。”
The　Kasrkin　officer；　a　rough…spoken　man　by　the　name　of　Gradz；　clambered　up　the　back　of　Foe…
Breaker　and　stopped　close　to　van　Droi。　Despite　their　proximity；　they　spoke　over　the　vox。　The　noise
of　the　engine　was　too　loud　for　anything　else。
“What　do　you　think？”　asked　van　Droi。
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The　Kasrkin　took　a　moment　to　answer。　“I　think　we’ve　just　found　our　warboss；　armour。　That
hangar　dead　ahead　is　the　biggest　structure　I’ve　seen　so　far。　Twice　the　size　of　those　ones　to　the　side。
I’ll　bet　you　ten　bottles　of　joi　the　bastard　is　in　there　right　now。　The　minute　our　lads　move　into　that
open　square；　th