Gunheads(科幻战争)-第26部分

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were　they　doing　here？
“Will　you　tell　me　the　moment　you　know　more？”
“Of　course　I　will；”　said　Killian。　“I　don’t　like　this　any　more　than　you　do。”
“You’ve　told　Rennkamp？　General　deViers？”
“About　to；”　said　Killian。
Bergen　thought　about　that。　“Why　did　you　come　to　me　first；　Klotus？”
Killian　hesitated；　perhaps　checking　for　a　second　that　the　channel　was　properly　encrypted。
“Because　deViers　has　been　losing　it　for　months。　We　both　know　it。　And　he’s　closer　to　cracking　right
now　than　I’ve　ever　seen　him。　If　he　has　some　kind　of　breakdown；　the　mission　will　fall　to　you。　And　so
will　our　survival。　I　want　to　get　off　this　rock　alive；　Gerard。　I’m　not　meant　to　die　here　and　neither　are
my　men。”
“Thanks　for　the　update；　Klotus；”　Bergen　said。　“Keep　me　posted；　won’t　you？”
“You’ve　got　it。　Killian　signing　off。”
The　light　on　the　vox…board　blinked　out。
In　Tech…Magos　Sennesdiar’s　specially　fitted　Chimera；　Tech…Adept　Xephous　hit　a　toggle　and
watched　a　similar　green　light　die。　He　turned　to　his　superior　and　said；　
　replied　Sennesdiar。　
There　was　a　moment　of　silence　as　each　of　the　Martian　priests　processed　the　ramifications　of　this。
It　was　Armadron　who　ultimately　broke　it。　
　Sennesdiar　replied。　
　said　Xephous。
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　answered　Sennesdiar。　
　said　Xephous。
　said　Armadron；　
Wulfe　growled　as　another　wave　of　dust　smothered　him　and　his　tank。　If　he　didn’t　know　better；　he
would　have　said　the　New　Champion　was　churning　up　the　ground　deliberately　to　impair　his　vision；
but　all　the　tanks　were　suffering　the　same　problem。　The　trail　was　so　narrow　that　the　Imperial
machines　had　to　move　in　single　file。　As　the　convoy　climbed　higher　and　higher　into　the　mountains；
the　danger　increased。
Metzger　was　guiding　Last　Rites　II　carefully　along　a　crumbling　ridge　while　trying　to　keep　her　at　a
reasonable　speed。　Everyone　knew　that　the　orks　weren’t　far　behind；　though　they　couldn’t　be　sighted；
hidden　from　view　by　the　dust　and　the　drop…off。
Wulfe　took　a　look　to　his　right　and；　not　for　the　first　time；　felt　something　flip　inside　his　stomach。　A
vast　chasm　yawned　between　the　peak　they　were　ascending　and　the　next。　He　turned　his　eyes　to　the
front　again　and　felt　his　stomach　muscles　relax。
What　the　hell　are　we　doing　up　here；　he　asked　himself？　High　altitude　is　no　bloody　place　for　heavy
armour。
Wulfe　and　the　rest　of　the　Gunheads　were　near　the　rear　of　the　column；　part　of　an　armour
detachment　charged　with　defending　the　Thirty…Sixers　and　Heracles　halftracks　that　carried　most　of
the　remaining　supplies。　As　such；　the　orks　were　snapping　at　their　heels。　They　were　most　at　risk。
Behind　Last　Rites　II　came　Old　Smashbones　and　a　feajor
General　Rennkamp’s　12th　Mechanised　division。　Wulfe　didn’t　know　the　crews；　but　that　didn’t
matter。　Whatever　division　they　came　from；　the　Cadians　really　had　to　stick　together。　There　weren’t
all　that　many　left　of　them；　just　a　few　thousand　men　packed　tightly　into　a　few　hundred　machines。　By
contrast；　scouts　attached　to　the　rearguard　reported　ork　vehicles　pursuing　in　the　thousands。　Turning　to
face　them　was　not　an　option。　The　Cadians　could　only　keep　going　while　the　tech…priests　insisted　that
this　was　the　way。
Orks　or　not；　the　mountain　trail　was　proving　enough　of　a　challenge　on　its　own。
Still　looking　ahead；　trying　to　guide　his　driver　as　well　as　he　possibly　could　despite　the　dust；
Wulfe　decided　to　vox　Lieutenant　van　Droi。　Van　Droi　had　been　too　damned　quiet　since　learning　of
Colonel　Vinnemann’s　death。　It　wasn’t　like　him。
“Sword　Lead　to　Company　Command；”　he　said。　“This　is　Wulfe；　sir。　Please　respond；　over。”
“Company　here；　Wulfe；”　replied　van　Droi。　He　didn’t　sound　well。　“What　can　I　do　for　you？”
Wulfe　wondered　how　to　say　it　without　causing　offence。　“Just　reporting　in；　sir。　Still　quiet　back
here。　No　sign　of　the　orks　so　far。　I　don’t　suppose　it’s　too　much　to　hope　that　they　called　off　the
chase？”
“How　long　have　you　been　a　soldier；　Wulfe？”　said　van　Droi。　“You　know　better　than　that。”
“I　know；　sir；”　said　Wulfe。　“I　know。　Just　wishful　thinking。　Listen…　about　the　colonel；　sir…”
“What　about　him；　sergeant？”
The　lieutenant’s　tone　told　Wulfe　he　was　treading　dangerous　ground。　“I’ll　miss　him；　sir。　That’s
all。”
Van　Droi　was　silent　for　a　good　ten　seconds。　Wulfe　thought　the　lieutenant　had　actually　broken　the
link　for　a　moment；　but　then　van　Droi　said；　“You　know；　Oskar；　when　young　men　get　their　first
combat　posting；　it’s　as　if　they’re　suddenly　children　again。　Doesn’t　matter　if　they’re　officers　or
grunts。　They　feel　inadequate；　confused　and　scared。　They　feel　like　they　don’t　belong。　And　the　fear
that　builds　up　in　them　sometimes…　Maybe　you　felt　that　way　yourself。”
“I’m　sure　I　did；　sir；”　said　Wulfe。　“It　was　a　long　time　ago；　but　I’m　sure　I　did。”
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“I　never　forgot　that　feeling；”　voxed　van　Droi　wistfully。　“I　hated　it　more　than　anything；　you
know。　I　felt　like　a　burden　to　those　around　me。　I　had　so　much　to　learn　and　they　had　no　time　to　teach。
It　was　Vinnemann　that　pulled　me　out　of　it。　He　was　just　a　captain　back　then。　It　was　before　his　injury。
He　was　one　hell　of　a　leader。”
“He　was　a　good　man；　sir；”　said　Wulfe。
“He　was　a　great　man；”　said　van　Droi。　Again　there　was　a　long　pause。　“It’s　not　looking　good　for　us
out　here；　Wulfe。　But　if　we　have　any　chance　at　all　to　make　him　proud；　I　say　there’s　nothing　we
shouldn’t　do　to　honour　him。　Understand？”
Wulfe　thought　he　did。　It　wasn’t　about　nice　neat　plans　anymore。　Things　had　gone　way　beyond
that。　Van　Droi　was　looking　for　something　to　hold　on　to；　something　solid；　and；　in　the　honour　of　the
regiment　and　his　duty　to　Colonel　Vinnemann；　it　was　clear　that　he　had　found　it；　despite　the　mess　they
were　in。　Wulfe　hoped　he　might　draw　a　little　strength　from　that　himself。　If　it　worked　for　van　Droi；　it
could　work　for　him；　too。
He　was　a　soldier。　He　was　a　Cadian。
“For　the　colonel；　sir；”　he　told　van　Droi；　“and　for　the　regiment。　If　we　go　out；　we’ll　go　out　with　a
hell　of　a　bang；　sir。”
Van　Droi　sounded　a　little　brighter　when　he　answered。　“That’s　the　stuff；　Oskar。　Not　many　of　the
Gunheads　left　now；　but　we’ll　make　our　mark；　by　Throne。”
“You　bet；　sir；”　said　Wulfe。　“You　can　count　on　me　and　my　crew。”
“I　know　I　can；　sergeant。　Van　Droi　out。”
“Major　General　Killian　would　like　to　speak　with　you　again；　sir；”　said　Bergen’s　adjutant　over　the
intercom。
Bergen；　up　in　his　cupola　again；　immediately　changed　the　channel　on　his　vox…bead　and　said；
“News；　Klotus？”
“I’ll　say。　My　scout　leader　just　reported　in。　This　trail　takes　us　up　into　the　clouds　just　a　few
hundred　metres　around　the　next　curve　and　ends　shortly　afterwards。　Visibility　is　poor；　and　the　going
is　extremely　treacherous。　But　that’s　not　all。　The　scouts…　they’ve　found　something　strange。　I　thought
you　ought　to　know。”
“Strange？　What　are　we　talking　about　exactly？”
“They　had　difficulty　describing　it　to　me。　Look；　Gerard；　I’m　not　sure　what　we’re　getting　into
here；　but　I　know　I　don’t　like　it　and　neither　do　my　men。　According　to　my　scouts；　it’s　something　we’d
better　see　for　ourselves。”
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CHAPTER　TWENTY…FIVE
“Human？”　asked　General　deViers。
“I　wouldn’t　want　to　bet　on　that；　sir；”　replied　Rennkamp。　“I　suppose　it　could　be。　Difficult　to　tell
with　all　the　erosion。　All　the　same；　it’s　damned　strange；　if　you　ask　me。　What　in　blazes　is　it　doing　up
here？”
The　Cadian　senior　officers　—　deViers；　his　division　commanders；　and　various　attached　staff　—
stood　at　the　very　end　of　the　mountain　trail；　surrounded　by　anxious　scouts　from　the　88th　Mobile
Infantry　Regiment；　the　men　that　Marrenburg　had　sent　forward　to　lead　the　column。　Massive　spurs　of
dark　rock　curved　around　them　on　either　side；　and　the　upper　reaches　of　the　mountain　stretched　high
above　them；　peaks　lost　in　the　roiling　clouds。　The　eyes　of　the　Cadians　barely　lingered　on　any　of　these
things；　however。　Instead；　they　were　locked　to　the　sight　that　lay　straight　in　front　of　them。
It　was　ancient；　that　much　was　certain；　and　it　was　something　that　none　of　the　Cadians　had　been
prepared　for。
A　great　rectangular　space　had　been　excavated　in　the　side　of　the　mountain；　forming　an　alcove　so
wide　and　deep　that　one　could　have　parked　an　entire　Naval　lifter　inside　it。　The　edges　looked　like　they
might　once　have　been　angular；　squared　off　by　the　tools　or　machines　of　the　masons　that　had　carved　it；
but　they　weren’t　very　square　now。　Thousands　of　years　of　harsh　weather　had　smoothed　and　rounded
them；　as　it　had　also　done　to　the　twin　godlike　figures；　cut　from　the　same　stone；　which　knelt　below　the
alcove’s　roof；　taking　the　immense　weight　of　it　on　their　broad　rocky　shoulders。
The　figures　were　vast　and　strange。　They　looked　immensely　powerful；　but　were　they　supposed　to
appear　so　distorted？　Or　had　they　just　been　badly　rendered？　Their　huge　block…like　heads　were
preposterously　oversized　by　comparison　to　their　sturdy　torsos。　Each　arm　and　leg　seemed　likewise
exaggerated　in　its　thickness；　presenting　the　beings　as　having　impossibly　heavy　musculature；　and
their　hands　and　feet；　much　like　their　heads；　seemed　so　big　as　to　make　the　statues　appear　like　some
kind　of　grotesque　caricatures。　They　were　a　strange　sight　indeed；　and　they　looked　like　no　statue　of　a
man　that　Bergen　had　ever　seen。
He　wondered　what　had　they　looked　like　in　their　heyday。　Had　they　been　intricately　carved？　Had
their　faces　been　rendered　in　exquisite　or　terrifying　detail？　Had　they　been　covered　in　glyphs　or
precious　metals？　How　long　had　they　knelt　here；　locked　in　a　battle　with　gravity　to　prevent　the　side　of
the　mountain　from　burying　them？　A　great　many　millennia；　surely。
The　surface　of　each　was　pitted；　their　features　long　gone；　lost　in　time。　They　were　utterly　faceless。
In　the　millennia　to　come；　they　would　crumble　altogether　and　the　roof　of　the　alcove　would　collapse；
burying　all　evidence　that　they　had　ever　existed。
Thank　the　Throne；　thought　Bergen；　that　all　that　rock　hasn’t　come　down　already；　or　we’d　be
facing　a　dead　end。　The　orks　would　have　us　properly　trapped。
The　expedition　force　wasn’t　trapped。　There　was　a　way　ahead。
The　cavernous　black　mouth　of　a　tunnel　gaped　between　the　two　huge　figures。　It　looked　wide
enough　to　take　four　or　five　Leman　Russ　tanks　driving　abreast　of　each　other。　This　ancient　structure
was　a　gate；　a　doorway　into　the　belly　of　the　mountain。　The　mighty　statues　were　its　guardians。
“Abhumans；　I’d　say；”　said　Killian。　“Maybe　some　kind　of　mutated　human　colonists。　Who　knows
how　old　this　is。　It　might　date　back　to　pre…Strife　times。”
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“Gruber；　get　the　tech…priests　up　here；”　snapped　deViers。　“We　don’t　have　time　to　stand　around
discussing　it；　but　I’ll　be　damned　if　I’m　going　to　lead　us　all　down　there　before　I　know　what　we’re
looking　at。”
The　general’s　adjutant　put　out　a　hurried　call　for　the　senior　Martian　priests　to　move　up　the
column。
Yes；　thought　Bergen；　let’s　see　what　the　cogboys　have　to　say　about　this。　I’m　sure　this　is　where
they’ve　been　leading　us　the　whole　time。　Whatever　the　Mechanicus　wants；　I’ll　bet　my　boots　it’s　in
that　tunnel　somewhere；　or　on　the　other　side　of　it；　perhaps。　One　way　or　another；　though；　we’re　going
in。　Emperor　protect　us。
He　knew　that　the　men　wouldn’t　like　it。　He　didn’t　like　it　much　himself。　Alien　things　were
anathema。　From　the　moment　a　child　of　the　Imperium　could　understand　Low　Gothic；　he　or　she　was
drilled　to　hate　all　xenos　and　everything　they　stood　for；　and；　from　the　moment　they　joined　the　Guard；
that　hatred　was　fed　and　nurtured　and　beaten　into　them　until；　for　many；　it　became　a　consuming
passion。
Suffer　not　the　alien　to　live。
Wonder　not　at　its　works；　thought　Bergen；　reciting　from　the　Imperial　Creed。　For　such　things
weave　their　corruption　into　the　minds　of　men　and　make　us　weak　in　the　face　of　our　foes。
Many　a　man　with　too　much　curiosity　had　been　burned　at　the　stake　by　commissars；　members　of
the　Holy　Inquisition；　or　even　by　outraged　civilian　mobs。　Heresy　carried　a　high　price。
A　monotone　voice；　like　metal　rasping　on　metal；　sounded　from　behind　Bergen。　He　turned　to　see
Magos　Sennesdiar　approach；　face　shadowed　under　his　cowl；　long　red　robes　snapping　at　his　ankles。
In　his　own　way；　he　was　even　more　alien　than　the　grotesque　stone　twins。　The　metal　tendrils　that
sprouted　from　his　back　and　his　monstrous　machine…bulk　made　the　kneeling　stone　giants　seem　so
much　more　human。　He　was　flanked；　as　usual；　by　the　equally　disturbing　Adepts　Xephous　and
Armadron。
“Fortune　favours　us；　general；”　said　Sennesdiar。
Bergen　noted　that；　unlike　the　Cadians　around　him；　the　tech…priests　did　not　wear　goggles　and
rebreathers。　They　didn’t　need　them。
How　fragile　we　must　seem　to　them　sometimes；　he　thought　to　himself。　Do　they　pity　us；　or　do　they
view　us　with　contempt？
The　officers　had　turned　to　greet　the　tech…magos；　and　he　stopped　in　front　of　them。　Raising　his
dark；　unblinking　eye…lenses；　he　gestured　with　long　metal　fingers　towards　the　ancient　structure　up
ahead。　“Dar　Laq　lies　open　before　us。　Why　do　we　not　proceed？　The　ork　legion　will　be　upon　us　soon。”
“Dar　Laq？”　asked　Killian。　“Is　that　what　you　just　called　it？”
“May　I　assume；　magos；”　said　deViers　testily；　“that　this…　this　place　is　known　to　you？”
“In　name　only；　general；”　replied　the　magos。　“Dar　Laq　was　long　rumoured　to　be　somewhere　in
this　region；　though　it　was　never　located　and　catalogued　while　Golgotha　belonged　to　us。　At　this
altitude；　the　clouds　render　auspex　scanners　almost　entirely　useless；　and；　as　you　can　see　for　yourself；
we　are　shrouded　from　view　up　here。　There　were　tales　of　other　ancient　settlements；　too；　of　course；
but；　though　my　revered　brothers　searched；　it　seemed　that　time　had　hidden　them　too　well。　It　is
remarkable　that　this　gateway　still　stands；　and　it　pleases　me　that　our　expedition　has　led　to　its
accidental　discovery。”
“Gateway　to　what　exactly？”　asked　Bergen。
The　magos　turned　and　looked　straight　at　him。　Bergen　tried　to　read　him；　to　search　for　some　sign
of　deceit；　a　twitch　perhaps；　some　hint　of　conspiracy；　but　the　magos’　body　language　was　impossible
to　read；　for　there　simply　was　none。　Bergen　felt　he　might　as　well　have　tried　to　read　the　emotions　of　an
automatic　sentry…gun。
“We　do　not　know　the　name　of　the　sentient　race　that　occupied　Golgotha　before　us；　major
general；”　Sennesdiar　answered。　“We　found　no　remains　of　their　dead；　no　written　records。　They　were
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long　gone　when　the　Great　Crusade　came　this　way；　and　where　they　went　remains　a　mystery。　We　of
the　Mechanicus　do　not　like　to　posit　suppositions　without　adequate　data。”
“Meaning　you　can’t　really　tell　us　what　lies　ahead；　right？”　said　Rennkamp；　cutting　in。　He　shook
his　head　and　turned　to　General　deViers。　“Could　be　walking　into　anything；　sir。”
“I　said　they　were　long　gone；　major　general；”　said　Sennesdiar；　“and　I　meant　it。　I　doubt　we　shall
find　any　cause　for　alarm　within。　If　your　concern　is　greenskins；　on　the　other　hand；　perhaps　I　may
offer　some　reassurance。　By　their　extremely　superstitious　nature　there　is　a　very　high　probability　that
the　orks　will　not　pursue　us。　There　is　no　sign　that　they　have　entered　here。　If　they　ever　discovered　it；
they　did　not　deface　it　as　they　usually　do。　No　glyphs。　No　spoor；　unless　your　scouts　have　uncovered
some。　I　recognise　that　there　may　be　some　resistance　to　proceeding　this　way　among　the　troopers。　This
is　a　xenos　place；　but　I　project　that　the　most　we　shall　encounter　is　rubble　and　ruins。”
“And　an　exit　that　will　get　us　out　on　the　other　side；”　said　Bergen。　“Or　what’s　the　point　in　going
down　there　at　all？”
“I’m　not　leading　this　expedition　into　a　dead　end；　magos；”　growled　General　deViers。　“We’ve　got
a　critical　mission　to　complete；　by　Terra。　Tell　me　what　this　place　has　to　do　with　The　Fortress　of
Arrogance。　And　your　answer　had　better　satisfy　me。”
Sennesdiar　turned　his　hooded　head　from　Bergen　to　deViers　and　back　again。　The　threat　inherent
in　the　general’s　words　seemed　not　to　register　at　all；　either　that　or　he　judged　it　entirely　beneath　his
attention。
“We　can　be　sure　there　is　a　way　out；”　he　said；　“because　the　machine…spirit　is　our　guide。　Even
were　it　not　so；　an　exit　must　exist；　for　it　would　be　illogical　not　to　create　one。　Animals　of　the　lowest
forms　know　better　than　to　build　a　lair　with　only　a　single　exit。　And　we　are　not　talking　about　a　lowborn
animal　species　here。　We　are　talking　about　an　intelligent；　technological　race　that　dominated
Golgotha　for　many　ages。　The　scant　evidence　we　have　indexed　tells　us　that　much。”
Then　the　magos　turned　to　deViers　and　added；　“I　calculate　an　extremely　high　probability；　general；
that　this　tunnel　will　lead　us　safely　to　the　far　side　of　the　Ishawar　range。　For　the　sake　of　your　grand
quest；　and　for　all　our　lives；　that　is　exactly　where　we　must　go。　You　see；　as　my　adepts　and　I　learned
from　our　communion　with　the　machine…spirit；　that　is　where　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance　awaits　us。”
The　column　was　moving　again。
About　bloody　time；　too；　thought　Wulfe。　Reports　from　the　spotters　at　the　very　rear　put　the　ork
forces　almost　within　striking　range；　and　the　scar　on　his　throat　had　begun　to　itch　like　crazy　in　the　last
few　minutes。　That　was　never　a　happy　sign。
It　was　good　to　be　moving　again；　but；　from　his　position　in　the　rearguard；　it　was　difficult　to　work
out　exactly　what　was　going　on。　As　Wulfe　sat　high　in　his　cupola　guiding　Metzger　around　another
bend　in　the　trail；　he　listened　carefully　to　the　regimental　vox…channel；　trying　to　learn　as　much　as　he
could。　All　he　could　really　draw　from　the　broken　chatter　was　that　scouts　had　found　a　way　forward；
and　that；　inexplicably；　a　good　many　of　the　troopers　didn’t　seem　to　like　it　much。
That　doesn’t　make　sense；　he　told　himself。　Everyone　with　half　a　brain　knows　we’ve　got　to　keep
moving　if　we’re　going　to　stay　ahead　of　those　bastards。　What’s　got　everyone　so　damned　twitchy　all
of　a　sudden？
Soon　enough；　he　found　out　first…hand。
“By　the　bloody　Golden　Throne；”　he　gasped　as　Metzger　followed　the　tank　in　front　between　two
eerily　symmetrical　columns　of　red　stone。　Beyond　the　weathered　pillars；　the　ancient　alcove　with　its
kneeling　gods　was　revealed　in　all　its　glory。　“We’re　going　inside　that？”
There　was　a　crackle　on　the　vox。
“Company　Command　to　all　tanks。　Keep　your　pace　up。　I’m　talking　to　you；　Holtz。　Keep　your　crate
in　line。　Why　have　you　stopped？　Get　moving。”
146
Wulfe　heard　Holtz　growling　back；　“Sorry；　lieutenant。　Just　caught　us　a　bit　off…guard。　I　mean；　it’s
alien；　isn’t　it？　I　don’t　like　it；　sir。　We　shouldn’t　be　going　in　there。　Throne　knows；　we　shouldn’t。　We
could　be　walking　right　into　a　xenos　trap；　sir。”
The　link　spat　a　harsh　burst　of　static　in　Wulfe’s　ear　for　a　few　seconds　before　he　heard　van　Droi’s
answer。　“It’s　not　exactly　my　first　choice　either；　corporal；　but　we’re　out　of　options。　If　you’d　rather
stay　here