Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第12部分

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the　dark　gods　themselves　none　could　say；　but　their　daemonic　visages　shone　with　the　very　power　of　Chaos；　as　though　a　fragment　of
that　raw　energy　might　be　contained　within　their　hellish　features。
The　ground　shook　with　thunderous　vibration　as　the　feet　of　these　glorious　machines　slammed　down　like　the　tread　of　an　angry　god。
The　glistening　cable…tentacles；　slipped　free　of　their　charges；　coiled　back　into　the　belly　of　their　host　and　vanished　from　sight　as　the
next　two　Battle　Titans　were　readied　for　landing。
Forrix　watched　as　the　two　Titans　stood　motionless　on　the　landing　field；　their　power　and　majesty　palpable　even　in　their　stillness。　A
sinuous　tail；　bearing　a　spiked　wrecking　ball　larger　than　the　greatest　super　heavy　tank；　twitched　at　the　back　of　the　largest　Titan　and
a　massive　cheer　burst　from　the　assembled　warriors。
A　powerful　whine　burst　suddenly　from　the　Titans　as　the　mighty　weapon…arms　began　to　move；　a　fierce　and　monstrous　anime
enlivening　each　of　the　war　machines　with　vigour。　The　first　war　machine；　once　an　Emperor…class　Titan　in　the　service　of　the　corpsegod；
now　known　and　feared　as　the　Dies　Irae；　took　a　ponderous　step　forward；　its　mighty　foot　crashing　down　on　the　ground　with
teeth…loosening　force；　its　daemonic　princeps　eager　to　plunge　into　battle　lest　his　monstrous　war　machine　turn　its　fury　upon　its　allies。
Its　companion　in　death；　the　Pater　Mortis；　raised　its　guns　to　the　heavens；　as　though　saluting　the　gods　for　delivering　it　to　war　once
more　and　roared　its　battle　lust　across　the　world。　Smaller　than　the　Dies　Irae；　it　followed　its　massive　sibling　like　a　devoted　acolyte。
Forrix　allowed　himself　a　tight　smile　as　he　watched　the　two　mighty　engines　of　destruction　stride　from　the　spaceport　towards　the
mountains。　Tanks　and　infantry　swarmed　around　their　legs。　Those　who　had　fought　alongside　these　lethal　machines　before　kept　a
sensible　distance　from　them　while　those　unused　to　seeing　the　power　of　their　masters　so　physically　manifested　clustered　around　to
pay　homage。　Many　of　their　foolish　human　soldiers　paid　the　price　for　their　unwise　devotion；　as　whole　swathes　of　men　were　crashed
underfoot　with　each　step　of　the　gigantic　machines。
Two　more　Titans　were　even　now　descending　to　the　planet's　surface　and　there　would　be　many　more　before　this　day's　operation　was
complete。　Forrix　had　much　yet　to　do；　but　was　content　that　everything　was　proceeding　on　schedule。
Within　another　two　hours　there　would　be　an　army　of　conquest　ready　to　take　this　world　apart　in　a　storm　of　iron。
FOUR
LARANA　UTORIAN　FOUGHT　to　keep　the　pain　of　her　ruined　arm　at　bay　just　a　little　longer。　Even　if　she　lived　through　this　nightmare；
which　she　acknowledged　was　unlikely；　she　knew　she　would　lose　it。　The　giant　who　had　brought　them　here　had　seen　to　that；
crashing　every　bone　and　ripping　every　tendon　in　her　arm。　Each　step　sent　bolts　of　pain　shooting　through　her　and　it　took　a　supreme
effort　of　will　not　to　drop　to　her　knees　and　just　give　up。
She　had　seen　what　happened　to　those　who　had　done　that；　and　had　no　wish　to　end　her　days　as　a　screaming；　eyeless　wreck；　nailed　to
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
the　chassis　of　a　traitor's　tank。　She　would　face　death　on　her　feet　like　a　true　soldier　of　the　Emperor。
Painfully；　she　shuffled　uphill；　keeping　her　eyes　focussed　on　the　neck　of　the　man　in　front；　concentrating　on　putting　one　foot　before
the　other。　She　glanced　up　as　he　suddenly　stopped　and　felt　a　hot；　roiling　sensation　of　fear　work　its　way　through　her　gut　as　she　saw
the　formidable；　rocky　slopes　of　Tor　Christo　before　her。　The　grey　bastions　on　the　rocks　above　were　over　a　kilometre　away；　but
Utorian　fancied　she　could　make　out　the　faces　of　the　gunners　and　soldiers　on　the　firing　steps。　What　must　they　be　thinking；　she
wondered？　Were　they　afraid；　or　were　they　full　of　bravado；　confident　that　nothing　could　breach　their　high　walls？　Larana　hoped
they　were　afraid。
Their　column　began　moving　forwards　as　smoke…belching　trucks　roared　alongside　them。　The　tracks　skidded　to　a　halt　at　the　head　of
the　columns　and　sudden　hope　flared　in　Larana's　heart　as　she　saw　men　in　crimson　overalls　with　crude　eight…pointed　stars　stitched
over　their　left　breast　on　the　back　of　the　tracks　handing　battered；　but　serviceable　looking　rifles　to　the　startled　prisoners。　If　these
traitorous　curs　thought　that　the　men　and　women　of　the　Jouran　Dragoons　would　fight　for　them；　then　they　were　even　more　deluded
than　she　had　thought。　As　soon　as　she　was　given　a　weapon；　she　would　turn　it　on　their　captors　and　damn　the　consequences。
But　any　hope　of　a　swift　death　in　a　glorious　last　stand　were　dashed　as　Larana　took　hold　of　one　of　the　rifles　and　discovered　it　was
nothing　more　than　a　hollow　framework；　the　internal　workings　missing。　She　felt　tears　of　frustration　well　up　inside；　but　suppressed
them　viciously。　Hands　pulled　at　her；　dragging　her　and　the　others　forward　and　lifting　them　onto　the　backs　of　the　trucks。　Too　numb
to　resist；　she　allowed　herself　to　be　packed　into　the　vehicle；　biting　her　lip　to　avoid　screaming　as　more　and　more　prisoners　were
pressed　inside　the　truck。　The　stench　of　fear　was　overpowering。　Soldiers　vomited　and　soiled　themselves　in　terror　as　their　reserves
of　courage　finally　reached　their　limit。
Larana；　pressed　at　the　side　of　the　truck；　caught　only　glimpses　of　what　was　happening　outside。　The　revving　of　engines　built　to　a
deafening　crescendo　and　she　could　see　hundreds　of　trucks；　all　as　crammed　as　this　one；　lined　at　the　edge　of　the　plateau。
Interspersed　between　the　trucks；　Larana　could　see　boxy；　armoured　personnel　carriers；　similar　to　the　ones　she　had　seen　Space
Marines　using。　She　knew　they　were　called　Rhinos；　but　these　bore　little　resemblance　to　the　noble　vehicles　she　had　seen　members　of
the　Adeptus　Astartes　employ。　Their　armoured　sides　had　a　disgusting；　oily　texture；　as　though　somehow　alive；　their　every　surface
festooned　with　spikes；　chains　and　skulls。　The　roar　of　their　exhausts　was　like　the　bellowing　of　some　impatient　predator；　and　each
bucked　madly；　as　though　chafing　at　the　delay　enforced　upon　them。
Larana　bit　her　lip　hard　enough　to　draw　blood　as　the　truck　lurched　forward；　its　wheels　churning　the　dusty　ground　as　its　wheels
fought　for　purchase。　Her　vision　spun　crazily　and　she　gripped　the　stock　of　her　useless　lasgun　trying　not　to　imagine　the　next　horror
that　awaited　her。
GUNNER　FIRST　CLASS　Dervlan　Chu　watched　the　approaching　line　of　vehicles　through　the　gunsight　of　his　Basilisk　artillery　piece
mounted　behind　the　walls　of　Tor　Christo's　Kane　bastion　with　undisguised　relish。　The　image　was　grainy　and　static　interference
washed　through　the　sight；　but　its　beauty　was　unmistakable。　It　was　an　artilleryman's　dream。　He　tried　to　get　a　count　on　the　number
of　targets　approaching　the　fortress；　dividing　the　approaching　line　in　two　and　then　halving　it　again。　He　made　out　roughly　three
hundred　trucks；　no　doubt　laden　with　traitorous　scum　eager　to　dash　themselves　against　the　bulwark　of　Tor　Christo；　and　perhaps　two
dozen　APCs。
These　fools　hadn't　even　bothered　to　commence　their　attack　with　an　artillery　barrage　or　under　cover　of　smoke。　If　this　was　the
calibre　of　their　opposition；　then　the　warnings　of　their　company　commanders　had　been　largely　unnecessary。　They　would　send　these
incompetent　idiots　home　in　pieces。
Chu　already　had　his　zones　of　fire　mapped　out；　he　knew　the　precise　ranges　of　his　gun；　and　his　loading　team　already　had　one　of　the
metre…long　shells　loaded　in　the　breech　of　the　massive　artillery　piece。　He　allowed　himself　a　quick　glance　along　the　line　of　emplaced
artillery；　pleased　to　note　that　every　other　gun　appeared　to　be　locked　and　loaded。　Jephen；　the　commander　of　the　next　Basilisk　in
line；　gave　him　a　smiling　thumbs…up。
Chu　laughed　and　shouted；　'Good　hunting；　Mr　Jephen！　A　bottle　of　amasec　says　I　tally　more　than　you　and　your　boys！'
Jephen　sketched　a　casual　salute　and　replied；　'I'll　take　that　wager；　Mr　Chu。　Nothing　tastes　as　fine　as　amasec　another　man　has　paid
for。'
'A　fact　I　shall　no　doubt　rejoice　in　later；　Mr　Jephen。'
Chu　returned　to　his　gunsight　as　the　line　of　vehicles　rumbled　closer；　the　roar　of　their　engines　little　more　than　a　distant　growl　from
his　elevated　position。　Smoke　and　dust　billowed　behind　the　attacking　vehicles　and　soon　they　would　be　in　range。
Chu　swivelled　on　his　gun…chair　to　watch　the　senior　officers　of　the　Christo；　together　with　the　omnipresent　priests　of　the　Machine
God；　gathered　far　behind　the　guns；　consulting　an　attack　logister　that　was　no　doubt　wired　into　the　gunsights　of　their　artillery　pieces。
A　liveried　aide　passed　round　crystal　glasses　of　amasec　to　the　senior　officers　from　a　silver　tray　as　another　handed　out　ear
protectors。　The　officers　laughed　at　some　private　joke　and　toasted　the　success　of　the　venture；　downing　their　drinks　in　a　single　gulp。
The　officers　removed　their　peaked　caps　and　donned　their　ear　protectors。　One　officer；　who　Chu　recognised　as　Major　Tedeski；
stepped　towards　the　guns　and　raised　a　portable　vox　to　his　mouth。
The　oil…stained　speaker　beside　Chu　hissed　and　Tedeski's　harsh；　clipped　tones　announced；　'My　compliments　to　you；　gentlemen；　you
may　fire　when　ready。'
Chu　smiled　and　returned　to　his　gunsight；　watching　the　range　counter　unwind　as　the　enemy　approached。
HONSOU　DUCKED　INSIDE　the　crew　compartment　of　his　Rhino　and　spun　the　locking　wheel　of　the　hatch　behind　him。　There　was　little
point　in　manning　the　bolters　now；　and　he　would　only　expose　himself　to　unnecessary　risk　by　riding　with　the　hatch　open。
He　returned　to　his　commander's　seat　as　the　Rhino　bucked　over　the　undulating　ground；　the　driver　easing　back　on　its　speed　and
allowing　the　trucks　carrying　the　prisoners　to　take　the　lead。　There　were　sure　to　be　minefields　before　the　hill　fort；　and　it　was　the
tracks'　job　to　find　them　first。
The　warriors　accompanying　him　chanted　a　monotonous　dirge　…　a　prayer　to　the　Dark　Gods；　memorised　and　unchanged　these　last
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
ten　millennia。　Honsou　closed　his　eyes　and　allowed　it　to　wash　over　him；　his　lips　moving　in　time　with　the　words。　He　clutched　his
bolter　tight；　though　he　knew　that　it　was　not　yet　time　to　sate　its　battle　hunger　with　the　blood　of　traitors。　The　only　deaths　likely　this
day　were　those　of　worthless　prisoners；　men　who　deserved　to　die　anyway　for　their　stubborn　refusal　to　follow　the　only　true　path　that
could　save　mankind　from　the　multifarious　horrors　of　this　universe。
Where　else　but　in　Chaos　could　humanity　find　the　strength　to　resist　the　implacable　advance　of　the　tyranids；　the　barbarity　of　the　orks
or　the　nascent　peril　of　the　ancient　star…gods　that　were　even　now　awakening　from　their　aeons…long　slumbers？　Only　Chaos　had　the
power　to　unite　a　fragmented　race　and　defeat　that　which　sought　to　destroy　it。　The　soldiers　of　the　corpse…god　only　speeded　the
ruination　of　that　which　they　purported　to　defend　by　resisting　Chaos。
Well；　the　great　work　they　undertook　here　would　bring　the　ultimate　victory　of　Chaos　one　step　closer；　and　the　Warsmith　would
surely　reward　all　those　who　aided　in　his　victory　with　the　patronage　of　the　gods。　Such　a　prize　was　worth　any　price　and　Honsou
knew　he　would　risk　anything　to　win　such　reward。
The　roar　of　the　Rhino's　engine　deepened；　startling　Honsou　from　his　reverie　and　he　knew　that　the　time　had　come　to　implement　the
next　stage　of　the　attack。
THE　TRUCK　BOUNCED　over　the　uneven　ground　and　Larana　Utorian　felt　her　legs　sag　as　pain　washed