Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第30部分

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debacle。　Fierach's　death　made　it　that　much　easier　for　them；　giving　them　a　conveniently　dead　scapegoat。　Princeps　Daekian；
commander　of　the　Warlord　Titan　Honoris　Causa　had　come　before　the　senior　officers　of　the　Jouran　Dragoons　in　full　dress　uniform；
offering　his　sorrow　and　a　formal　apology　on　behalf　of　the　Legio　Ignatum。
For　the　sake　of　unity；　Vauban　had　accepted　the　apology；　but　the　words　tasted　bitter。　Leonid　had　shown　no　such　restraint；　walking
up　and　striking　Daekian。　Vauban　had　been　ready　for　the　worst　kind　of　reaction；　but　Princeps　Daekian　had　merely　nodded　and　said；
'That　is　your　right　and　privilege；　Lieutenant　Colonel　Leonid；　and　I　bear　you　no　ill…will。'
Princeps　Daekian　had　then　drawn　his　curved　sabre；　stepping　forward　to　offer　it；　hilt　first；　to　Leonid。
'But　know　this：　the　Legio　Ignatum　stands　ready　to　fight　at　your　side　and　we　will　not　fail　you　again。　I　swear　by　my　blade　that　it
shall　be　so。'
Vauban　had　been　stunned。　For　an　officer　of　the　Legio　to　offer　his　sword　to　another　was　a　declaration　that　should　he　fail　in　his
sworn　duty；　he　was　willing　to　be　killed　by　his　own　blade；　and　have　the　gods　of　battle　mock　him　for　all　eternity。
Leonid　had　stared　at　the　blade　for　several　seconds。　In　such　circumstances　it　was　customary　for　an　officer　and　a　gentleman　to
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
refuse　to　accept　the　sword；　indicating　that　the　gesture　was　enough。　But　Leonid　had　taken　the　sword　and　thrust　it　through　his
officer's　sash　before　returning　to　his　seat。　Vauban　had　been　disappointed；　but　not　surprised。　Leonid's　battalion　had　been　badly
mauled　in　the　battle　and　he　was　determined　to　extract　a　blood　price　for　his　men's　deaths。
Leonid　wore　the　sword　still；　and　Vauban　knew　that　when　word　of　this　incident　had　reached　the　ears　of　the　common　soldiers；　his
popularity　had　soared　within　the　ranks。
'I　am　proud　of　you；　Mikhail；'　said　Vauban　suddenly。　'You　have　a　quality　that　I　do　not：　you　have　the　ability　to　empathise　with　the
men　in　your　command　on　every　level。　From　the　formality　of　the　officers'　mess　to　the　gutter…talk　of　the　barracks。'
'Thank　you；　sir；'　beamed　Leonid；　pleased　with　his　commander's　sentiment。
'I　am　a　competent　and　experienced　leader；'　continued　Vauban；　'but　I　have　never　enjoyed　the　love　of　my　soldiers。　I　have　always　told
myself　that　it　is　not　necessary　for　my　men　to　love　me；　only　that　they　obey。　Your　men　love　and　respect　you；　and；　better；　they　trust
you　not　to　lead　them　into　harm's　way　without　good　reason。'
The　two　officers　left　the　Sepulchre；　pulling　their　uniform　jackets　tighter　about　themselves　as　they　stepped　into　the　whipping　wind
that　blew　stiffly　across　the　high　peaks　of　the　mountains。　A　thousand　steps　led　downhill　between　eroded　statues　of　faded　Imperial
heroes；　and　an　honour　guard　of　fifteen　soldiers　awaited　to　escort　them　back　to　the　citadel。
Both　officers　stared　in　trepidation　at　the　blasted　plain　before　the　citadel；　feeling　a　gut…twisting　sense　of　despair　at　the　sight　that　met
their　eyes。　Pillars　of　smoke　curled　skyward　from　countless　forges　and　campfires　as　the　enemy　soldiers　broke　their　fast　this
morning。　The　plain　was　a　mass　of　men　and　machines；　supply　depots　and　digging　parties。
In　the　days　after　the　fall　of　Tor　Christo；　the　main　east/west　parallel　had　been　extended　westwards　to　the　base　of　the　rocky
promontory；　and　two　zigzagging　saps　were　being　driven　towards　the　citadel。　The　first　was　aimed　at　the　salient　angle　of　the　Primus
Ravelin；　while　the　second　was　on　a　course　for　Vincare　bastion's　left　flank。
'We're　not　slowing　them　down　enough；'　said　Vauban　needlessly。
'No；'　agreed　Leonid；　'But　we　are　slowing　them。'
'Yes；　but　we　need　to　stop　them；'　said　Vauban；　lifting　his　eyes　to　the　blackened　form　of　the　Imperator　Titan　standing　immobile　at
the　foot　of　Tor　Christo；　still　swarming　with　men　attempting　to　buttress　it　firmly　and　allow　it　to　fire　without　collapsing。　Behind　it；
huge　gangs；　thousands　strong；　had　spent　the　last　six　days　heaving　and　sweating　to　carry　massive　siege　mortars　and　howitzers　up
the　rocky　slopes　to　the　forward　edge　of　Tor　Christo's　promontory。　From　there　they　would　be　able　to　lob　their　shells　with　impunity
within　the　walls　of　the　Vincare　bastion　and　place　breaching　batteries　to　shoot　over　the　glacis；　targeting　the　main　curtain　wall　with
direct　fire。
They　were　still　some　days　away　from　completion；　but　when　they　were　ready　the　carnage　they　would　inflict　on　the　garrison　was
sure　to　be　horrific。
'By　the　Emperor；　Mikhail；　it　will　go　badly　for　us　once　those　guns　are　brought　to　bear。'
Leonid　followed　Vauban's　stare　and　said；　'Have　you　thought　any　more　about　my　idea　for　Guardsman　Hawke？'
Guardsman　Hawke；　still　trapped　in　the　mountains；　was　proving　invaluable　to　the　artillerymen　of　the　citadel。　His　daily　reports　of
where　the　main　work　parties　were　gathering　had　forced　the　invaders　to　dig　extra　approach　trenches　to　ensure　that　they　were　able　to
reach　the　front　line　alive；　slowing　the　advance。　Vauban's　admiration　for　this　lowly　soldier　had　grown　daily；　as　he　had　reported　the
enemy's　movements；　dispositions　and　apparent　numbers　in　minute　detail；　allowing　them　to　get　a　clearer　understanding　of　the
enemy's　capabilities　and　direct　their　artillery　fire　accordingly。　If　they　lived　through　this；　Vauban　would　ensure　that　Hawke
received　a　commendation。
'I　have；　but　such　a　plan　would　involve　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　and　I　do　not　trust　them　any　more。'
'Nor　I；　but　we　will　need　their　help　if　it　is　to　work。'
'That　is　for　Arch　Magos　Amaethon　to　decide。'
'Sir；　you　know　Amaethon　is　slipping　and　cannot　be　relied　upon　any　more。　He　is　a　fool；　and　worse；　he's　dangerous。　Just　look　at
what　he　did　to　the　tunnel！'
'Be　careful；　Mikhail。　The　Adeptus　Mechanicus　is　an　ancient　and　powerful　body；　and　Amaethon　is　still　senior　to　you　and　therefore
deserving　of　your　respect。　Despite　the　truth　of　your　words　I　will　not　have　you　utter　them　again。　Understood？'
'Aye；　sir。　But　we　are　supposed　to　be　above　this　sort　of　thing！'
'We　are　above　it；　my　friend；　which　is　why　you　will　say　nothing　more　about　it。　If　we　are　to　triumph　here；　we　need　to　keep　the
Adeptus　Mechanicus　on　our　side。　It　will　achieve　nothing　if　we　alienate　them。'
Leonid　said　nothing　more；　and　Vauban　both　understood　and　agreed　with　Leonid's　reticence　concerning　the　priests　of　the　Adeptus
Mechanicus。　Blowing　the　tunnel　between　the　Christo　and　the　citadel　was　an　act　of　unforgivable　callousness；　and　were　Amaethon
not　already　less　than　a　man；　he　would　have　made　him　pay　for　his　crime。
Magos　Naicin　had　explained　how　he　had　pleaded　with　the　arch　magos　not　to　destroy　the　tunnel；　but　the　venerable　Amaethon　had
not　listened　to　reason。　Vauban　had　also　asked　Naicin　why；　after　the　Heaven's　Fall　signal　had　been　received；　the　Christo　had　not
been　destroyed。
'I　do　not　know；　Castellan　Vauban；'　had　been　Naicin's　answer。　'Perhaps　Major　Tedeski's　courage　failed　him　at　the　last　and　he　could
not　fulfil　his　duty。'
Vauban　had　come　close　to　losing　his　temper　then；　remembering　the　horrific　sight　of　a　swaggering　giant　in　Terminator　armour
hurling　Tedeski　to　his　death　from　the　battlements　of　the　Mars　bastion　at　the　battle's　end。
Fighting　to　keep　the　fury　from　his　voice；　he　said；　'Be　that　as　it　may；　but　in　future　there　will　be　no　action　taken　by　the　Adeptus
Mechanicus　without　direct　approval　from　myself　or　Lieutenant　Colonel　Leonid。　Is　that　clear？'
'As　crystal；　Castellan。　And　let　me　say；　that　I　agree　with　you　wholeheartedly。　I　cannot　bring　myself　to　condone　the　death　of　the　men
you　lost　at　Tor　Christo；　but　the　magos　is　old　and　does　not　have　long　left　in　this　world。　He　will　soon　be　with　the　Omnissiah；　and；
may　the　holy　spirit　of　the　Machine　forgive　me　for　saying　so；　perhaps　it　might　be　better　for　us　all　were　he　to　be　taken　sooner　rather
than　later。'
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
Vauban　had　not　replied　to　Naicin's　sentiment；　but　had　immediately　sensed　the　younger　magos's　desire　to　take　over　from
Amaethon。
And；　while　he　did　not　approve　of　such　machinations；　he　gloomily　realised　that　Naicin　might　well　be　correct。
GUARDSMAN　HAWKE　RAN　a　hand　through　his　tousled　hair　and　settled　into　a　more　comfortable　position　on　the　rocks；　using　his
jacket　as　a　rest　for　his　elbows　and　training　the　magnoculars　on　the　enemy　camp　below。
'Right；　let's　see　what's　going　on　now；'　he　muttered。
The　dusky　plain　below　was　a　patchwork　of　activity；　with　whole　swathes　of　ground　given　over　to　weapon　and　tool　manufacture；
with　thousands　upon　thousands　of　men　milling　about　in　regular　patterns。　It　had　taken　him　a　few　days　to　find　this　perch　from　which
to　observe　the　camp。　It　was　far　from　comfortable；　but　it　was　probably　as　good　as　it　got　in　these　mountains。　It　was　sheltered　from
the　worst　of　the　winds　and　there　was　a　rocky　overhang　that　allowed　him　to　snatch　some　sleep　when　the　noise　from　below　wasn't
too　bad。　He　yawned；　the　mere　thought　of　sleep　making　his　body　crave　it　all　the　more。　Night　was　drawing　in　anyway　and　he
wouldn't　be　able　to　see　much　more　at　the　rate　the　daylight　was　fading。
He'd　eaten　and　drunk　only　sparingly　and　his　food　and　water　supplies　were　still　holding　out；　but　he　had　long　since　ran　out　of　detox
pills。　However；　worries　that　he　would　fall　prey　to　the　toxic　atmosphere　of　Hydra　Cordatus　appeared　to　be　unfounded。　His　health；
aside　from　a　few　braises　and　scrapes；　was　better　than　it　had　been　since　he'd　ended　up　on　this　useless　planet。
After　the　initial　pain　and　stiffness　had　left　his　underused　muscles；　he　had　felt　clearer　and　fitter　than　ever。　The　constant　headaches
had　vanished　like　morning　mist　and　the　ashen　taste　that　always　caught　in　the　back　of　his　mouth　had　also　disappeared。　His　skin　was
taking　on　a　healthy　glow；　his　natural　paleness　replaced　by　the　beginnings　of　a　tan。
Whatever　the　cause　of　his　sudden　good　health；　Hawke　was　grateful　for　it。　Perhaps　it　was　the　feeling　that　he　was　now　proving　his
worth　to　the　regiment；　that　he　was　a　good　soldier　and　could　hack　it　with　the　best　of　them。　As　he　panned　the　magnoculars　across
the　enemy　camp；　counting　the　number　of　work　parties　that　made　their　way　to　the　approach　trenches；　Hawke　was　forced　to　admit
that；　all　things　being　equal；　he　was　having　the　time　of　his　life。
TWO
THE　BONE…BLADED　knife　scraped　a　clean　furrow　through　the　ingrained　blood　on　the　heavy　vambrace；　the　dried　crust　gathering　on
the　curved　rear　of　the　blade。　Larana　Utorian　dipped　the　blade　in　the　bucket　of　warm　water　beside　her　and　returned　to　her　task。
Once　again；　Kroeger　had　returned　to　the　dug…out　with　dried　blood　caked　across　his　armour　and　without　a　word　to　her；　had
indicated　that　she　should　remove　his　armour　and　clean　it　for　him。
Each　piece　was　heavy；　almost　too　heavy；　and　were　it　not　for　the　wheezing　mechanical　arm　Kroeger's　butcher…surgeons　had　grafted
to　her　shoulder　she　would　have　been　unable　to　lift　his　armour　clear。　The　black…steel　metalwork　of　the　mechanical　arm　was
nauseating　to　look　at　and　the　feel　of　its　corrupt　bio…mechanical　components　worming　their　way　through　her　body　made　her　want　to
rip　it　from　her　shoulder。　But　the　writhing　black　tendrils　of　synth…nerve　had　forged　an　unbreakable　bond　with　her　own　flesh　and　she
could　no　more　remove　it　than　she　could　stop　her　heart　from　beating。
A　heavy　steel　frame　carried　the　individual　components　of　Kroeger's　armour；　each　moulded　breastplate；　cuissart；　greave；　vambrace
and　gorge