Gunheads(科幻战争)-第27部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


er
stay　here　and　face　the　orks　on　your　own；　I　can　petition　Captain　Immrich　for　you。　Of　course；　the
commissars　have　already　made　it　very　clear　that　they’ll　execute　anyone　who　refuses　to　enter　on
charges　of　cowardice。”
Holtz　managed　to　sound　angry　and　chastised　at　the　same　time。　“I’m　no　frakking　coward；　sir。　Of
course；　I’m　going　in。　I　just　don’t　like　xenos　abominations；　that’s　all。”
Van　Droi’s　voice；　on　the　other　hand；　had　a　hint　of　humour　in　it　as　he　replied；　“That’s　all　I
thought　it　was；　corporal。　That’s　all　I　thought　it　was。”
As　Wulfe　was　listening　to　this；　he　watched　more　and　more　of　the　vehicles　in　front　being
swallowed　up　by　the　gaping　black　maw　of　the　ancient　tunnel。　As　soon　as　each　vehicle　went　in；　its
driver　hit　the　headlights；　but；　from　Wulfe’s　vantage　point；　it　didn’t　seem　as　though　the　lights　were
doing　much　to　illuminate　the　path　ahead。
Last　Rites　II　rolled　nearer　and　nearer　the　tunnel　mouth。　Wulfe　looked　from　side　to　side　at　the
huge　stone　guardians　as　he　passed　them。　What　in　the　warp　were　they　supposed　to　be？　He　might　have
said　ogryn；　but　they　were　too　misshapen　even　for　that。　They　didn’t　look　like　orks；　either。　In　fact；
they　didn’t　match　the　appearance　of　any　xenos　race　that　Wulfe　had　ever　encountered　or　read　about。
All　too　soon；　the　tunnel　swallowed　him。　Black　walls　cut　off　his　view　and　he　was　plunged　into
darkness。　The　air　that　moved　around　him　was　immediately　cooler。　He　noted　this　as　a　breeze　played
over　the　hairs　on　his　forearms　and　on　the　back　of　his　neck。　He　noted；　too；　that　the　featureless　black
floor　of　the　tunnel　was　sloping　downwards。
The　tanks　on　either　side　lit　their　headlamps；　and　cones　of　light　shot　forward；　striking　the　clouds
of　oily　exhaust　fumes　put　out　by　the　machines　in　front。　There　didn’t　seem　much　else　to　see；　at　least
for　now；　just　featureless　tunnel　walls；　blue…grey　clouds　of　exhaust　smoke　and　the　backs　of　the
machines　in　front。
“Metzger；”　said　Wulfe　over　the　intercom；　“hit　the　lights。”
“Aye；　sir；”　said　Metzger；　and　Last　Rites　II　added　her　own　illumination　to　the　darkness。　It　didn’t
make　much　difference。
On　the　vox；　van　Droi’s　voice　sounded　again。　“Are　we　all　in？”
Wulfe　turned　and　looked　over　his　shoulder　at　the　shrinking　square　of　red　daylight　behind　him。
Silhouetted　against　it　were　the　dark　hulls　of　the　last　machines　in　the　column。　“Looks　like　it；　sir；”　he
reported　to　van　Droi。　“I　see　the　last　of　the　Conquerors　coming　in　now。”
“Good；”　voxed　van　Droi。　“Then　I　want　all　of　you　to　move　in　to　the　sides　of　the　tunnel；　nice　and
slow。　We　don’t　need　any　accidents。　There’ll　be　a　Chimera　coming　back　through　here　in　a　couple　of
minutes；　heading　up　towards　the　entrance。”
“What　the　devil　for；　sir？”　voxed　Sergeant　Viess。　“We　can’t　send　men　back　out　there。”
Wulfe　noted　the　hesitation　in　van　Droi’s　voice；　and　the　weariness　when　he　said　at　last；　“It’s　a
demolitions　team；　sergeant。　General　deViers　has　ordered　the　entrance　sealed　behind　us。”
147
CHAPTER　TWENTY…SIX
The　Cadian　column　moved　slowly　and　carefully　through　the　dark；　for　the　best　part　of　three　hours；
guided　by　Sentinel　walkers　with　searchlights　fitted。　They　discovered　a　plethora　of　side　tunnels　as
they　went；　smaller　passageways　that　branched　from　the　broad　one　they　were　following。　Each　of
these　was　given　a　cursory　inspection；　but　they　twisted　away　in　countless　directions　and　were　far　too
small　to　accommodate　the　tanks。　With　little　choice；　the　expedition　force　found　itself　committed　to　a
single　path　that　led　ever　downwards；　deeper　into　the　darkness。
DeViers　marked　the　passing　of　time　on　the　antique　pocket…chronometer　his　grandfather；　for
whom　he　had　been　named；　had　bequeathed　him　over　eighty　years　before。　It　was　an　exquisite　piece
of　Agripinaan　craftsmanship；　inlaid　with　emeralds　and　white　diamonds；　finished　in　platinum；　and
decorated　across　the　face　with　a　filigree　of　the　most　delicate　gold。　It　had　been　with　him　a　long；　long
time。　Looking　at　its　pristine　face　always　brought　feelings　of　peace　and　comfort。　He　had　been　turning
to　it　more　and　more　often　since　his　arrival　on　this　accursed　planet。
Did　they　think　he　didn’t　know　what　was　going　on；　those　damned　Mechanicus？　Did　they　think　he
was　so　easily　used？　Warp　blast　and　damn　them；　he　was　Mohamar　Antoninus　deViers；　Saviour　of
Thessaly　IX；　Protector　of　Chedon　Secundus；　decorated　with　the　Iron　Star　for　his　overwhelming
victory　at　Rystok；　awarded　the　Platinum　Skull　1st　Class　for　exemplary　leadership　at　Dionysus。　Then
there　were　Modessa　Prime；　Phaegos　II；　and　a　host　of　other　glories。　Age　hadn’t　addled　his　mind　that
much。　He　knew　all　too　well　that　they　had　an　agenda。　He　knew　they　were　guiding　him　along　the　path
that　best　suited　their　purposes；　but　what　could　he　do？　He　needed　them　to　help　find　Yarrick’s　tank。
Their　Machine…God　didn’t　speak　to　normal　men；　even　men　as　worthy　as　him。
He　hadn’t　missed　the　looks　his　senior　officers　had　been　giving　each　other；　either。　They　were
losing　confidence　in　him。　That　much　was　evident。　Even　Gerard　Bergen　seemed　ready　to　question
him　these　days。　That　stung　deViers　particularly　sharply。　Prior　to　that　mess　on　Palmeros；　he　had
started　to　consider　the　handsome　officer　something　of　a　protégé。
Well；　they’d　all　see　the　error　of　their　ways　in　the　end。　This　wasn’t　over；　not　by　a　long　shot。　The
Fortress　of　Arrogance　was　still　out　there　somewhere。　It　couldn’t　be　far。　Orks　had　taken　it；　and　it　was
his　job　to　get　it　back。　The　Imperium　depended　on　him。　Whether　the　Mechanicus　had　initiated　this
expedition　or　not；　it　was　a　Munitorum　operation　now；　and　he　was　in　charge。　Not　one　man；　not　one
ounce　of　Guard　materiel　would　leave　this　blasted　world　until　he　had　his　prize。　There　was　still
everything　to　play　for。　His　place　in　the　history　books　was　still　within　reach。　He　would　join　the　list
alongside　Yarrick；　Macaroth　and　Harazahn。　He　would　be　forever　remembered　as　one　of　the　great
men　of　his　age。
He　looked　down　at　the　chronometer’s　ticking　hands。　There　was　still　time　enough　for　that。
“Caffeine；　sir？”　asked　Gruber　from　the　other　side　of　the　Chimera’s　passenger　compartment。　“It’s
hot。”
“No　thank　you；　Gruber。　I’m　wound　up　enough　already。”
Gruber　looked　at　the　chronometer　in　the　general’s　hand　and　let　out　a　snort　of　laughter。　“Good
one；　sir。　Wound　up。　I　get　it。”
DeViers　smiled　weakly。　He　hadn’t　meant　to　make　a　joke　at　all；　but　fine。　Let　his　adjutant　think
what　he　would。　Laughing　in　the　face　of　such　desperation　made　him　seem　strong　in　the　eyes　of
others。　Let　them　think　him　unfazed　by　the　frustrating　turns　the　expedition　had　taken。
What　lies　ahead；　he　wondered？　What　obstacle　will　test　me　next？
148
He　was　about　to　find　out。
“Vox　is　flashing；　sir；”　said　Gruber；　indicating　a　blinking　green　light　on　the　wall…mounted　unit
above　the　general’s　left　shoulder。　“Let　me　get　that　for　you。”
Even　though　deViers　was　closest　to　the　device；　he　let　Gruber　take　care　of　the　call。　It　was　the
man’s　job；　and　it　didn’t　do　to　have　the　other　officers　think　they　could　bother　their　general　directly
with　every　little　detail。　He　had　enough　on　his　mind。　Over　the　years；　Gruber　had　learned　to　screen　the
general’s　incoming　vox…calls　with　great　intuition。
Absently；　deViers　half…listened　as　Gruber　spoke　into　the　vox…caster’s　mouthpiece。　Then　the
adjutant　turned　and　said；　“It’s　Colonel　Marrenburg；　sir。　He　says　his　scouts　have　found　the　end　of　the
tunnel。”
DeViers　felt　his　pulse　quicken。
“I’ll　speak　to　him；”　he　said；　and　accepted　the　mouthpiece　from　Gruber；　who　immediately
returned　to　his　seat　and　his　flask　of　hot　caffeine。
“General　deViers；　here。　Go　ahead；　colonel。”
“Yes；　sir；”　said　Marrenburg。　“I’ve　just　had　it　confirmed。　About　three　hundred　metres　ahead；　the
main　tunnel　levels　out。　It　straightens　there；　too。　I’m　told　it　ends　another　two　hundred　metres　after
that。”
“I　see；　colonel。　And　just　how　does　it　end。”
“Well；　sir；　I’m　not　sure　how　to　say—”
“Let’s　not　play　guessing　games；　man。　I　don’t　have　the　patience。”
Marrenburg’s　voice　was　suddenly　brusque　as　he　answered。　“My　apologies；　general。　From　what　I
understand；　it　opens　onto　some　kind　of　city；　sir。　An　underground　city。”
Of　course　it　does；　thought　deViers　sarcastically。　Let’s　see　how　the　magos　explains　this　one。
When　Gerard　Bergen’s　Chimera；　Pride　of　Caedus；　emerged　from　the　end　of　the　tunnel　and　into　the
huge　open　space　under　the　mountain；　half　of　the　force’s　vehicles　were　already　there；　the　crews
gaping；　staring　wide…eyed　at　what　lay　before　them。　The　other　half　were　still　moving　down　through
the　last　stretches　of　the　main　tunnel。　The　rearguard　would　enter　within　the　hour。
Bergen　stood　in　his　cupola；　turning　his　head　from　left　to　right；　taking　it　all　in。　The　air　around　him
was　thick　with　exhaust　fumes；　but　they　were　less　dense　than　they　had　been　in　the　confines　of　the
tunnel。　There　was　more　space　for　them　to　dissipate　here。　The　air　pressure　had　changed。　He　could
feel　it　on　his　skin。　It　was　cooler　here；　too。
With　the　vehicles　spreading　out　in　an　ever…widening　perimeter；　there　was　plenty　of　light；　though
not　nearly　enough　to　illuminate　the　cavern’s　ceiling　or　the　far　walls。　Bergen　still　couldn’t　begin　to
estimate　the　size　of　the　excavation。　What　he　did　see；　however；　stole　his　breath　away。
A　city　of　smooth；　dark　metal　stretched　out　from　the　mouth　of　the　tunnel　into　the　blackness
beyond。　It　was　a　dead　city；　a　city　without　movement　or　sound　or　energy　of　its　own；　but　a　city
nonetheless。
“So　this　is　Dar　Laq；”　Bergen　muttered　to　himself。
The　buildings　framed　in　the　headlights　of　the　Cadian　vehicles　shone　back　at　him。　Every　single
surface；　every　corner；　every　wall；　was　made　of　a　shimmering；　iridescent　metal　the　likes　of　which
Bergen　had　never　seen　before。　As　his　eyes　moved　from　one　structure　to　the　next；　the　colours　seemed
to　shift　and　change　like　sunlight　on　the　surface　of　an　oily　pool。　It　was　beautiful　in　its　own　way。　It
reminded　him　of　a　shell　he　had　once　found　on　the　south…western　shores　of　the　Caducades　Sea。　He
had　been　practically　an　infant　back　then。　The　memory　had　been　lost　in　the　recesses　of　his　mind　until
this　very　moment。　Suddenly　it　was　as　sharp　as　a　high…resolution　pictograph。
Troopers　were　spilling　out　of　trucks　and　halftracks　around　his　Chimera。　The　beams　from　their
torches　cut　like　sabres　through　the　murk　as　their　sergeants　led　them　down　alleys　and　avenues；　each
footstep　kicking　up　little　puffs　of　dust。　“Safeties　off！”　he　heard　one　sergeant　call　out　as　he　passed
149
within　a　few　metres　of　Pride　of　Caedus。　“If　there　are　any　bloody　xenos　here；　we’ll　be　ready　for
them。”
Bergen　doubted　the　barking　sergeant　would　find　any　xenos　alive　down　here。　This　place　was　as
dead　as　the　desert　they　had　ridden　through　to　get　here。　He　could　feel　it。　More　so；　in　fact；　for　there
was　life　in　the　desert　if　one　only　knew　where　to　look。　This　place　had　all　the　atmosphere　of　a
mausoleum。
That　was　changing　even　as　he　watched。　After　the…Throne…knew　how　many　millennia　of　utter
silence　and　stillness；　Dar　Laq　was　filling　with　bustle　and　noise。　It　seemed　an　almost　sacrilegious
intrusion。　Bergen　watched　the　troopers　march　off　until　they　were　lost　behind　the　rows　of　blocky
alien　structures。
Each　of　the　buildings　he　looked　at　raised　the　same　questions　in　his　mind。　Where　were　the　doors？
Where　were　the　windows？　There　seemed　no　obvious　access　points　to　any　of　them。
General　deViers　had　questions；　too。　Bergen　heard　him　bark　out　a　short　order　on　the　vox；　and
powerful　searchlights　came　on　one　at　a　time；　reaching　out　for　the　ceiling　and　the　far　walls　with　their
brilliant　white　beams。　For　the　first　time；　Bergen　saw　massive　towers　standing　tall　over　all　the　other
structures。　He　looked　up　in　wonder　at　the　nearest；　approximately　three　hundred　metres　away。　It
recalled　to　his　mind　the　famous　Cadian　pylons　that　protected　his　home　world　from　the　vicious　warp
storm　known　as　the　Eye　of　Terror。　As　an　officer…cadet；　he　had　once　visited　the　base　of　one　of　the
Cadian　pylons；　a　rare　privilege　largely　forbidden　to　those　of　the　noncommissioned　ranks。　He
remembered　the　aura　of　power　he　had　sensed　around　that　inexplicable　monolith。　He　had　imagined　at
the　time　that　some　kind　of　living　force　resided　there；　something　of　incredible　energy　and　potency。
The　Cadian　pylons　and　the　towers　of　Dar　Laq　were　certainly　both　ancient　and　mysterious；　but　the
latter　exuded　no　sense　of　power　or　presence；　only　an　aura　of　death　and　decay；　and　of　a　splendour
lost　forever　to　the　ages。
The　towers　looked　to　be　constructed　of　the　same　nacreous　metal　as　the　lower　structures；　but
there　the　similarities　ended。　They　were　less　blocky；　less　angular；　suggesting　that　they　had　been
conceived　with　a　sense　of　the　artistic　at　least　as　much　as　the　functional。　A　few　of　them　were　broken；
the　outer　shells　rusting　or　tearing　away；　revealing　themselves　to　be　stuffed　full　of　what　looked　like
clockwork　on　the　most　massive　scale。　Great　black　cogs　sat　unmoving；　frozen　in　the　glare　of　the
searchlights；　teeth　bared　at　the　human　interlopers。　Bergen’s　natural　curiosity　kept　throwing　up
questions　in　his　mind　and　it　took　some　effort　to　quash　them。　What　feats　of　science　or　wonders　of
sorcery　might　the　creators　of　Dar　Laq　have　been　able　to　work　in　their　day？　It　was　dangerous　to　ask；
more　dangerous　still　to　actively　seek　such　knowledge。　Heresy　lurked　at　the　boundaries　of　such
thinking。　It　was　natural；　too；　though。　It　was　part　of　the　human　condition　to　revel　in　discovery；
despite　the　warnings　of　the　Imperial　Creed。
The　tech…priests　were　guiltier　than　anyone　of　that。　Bergen　imagined　they　would　be　readying　their
bands　of　slaves　and　servitors　to　go　out　and　search　for　answers。　They　must　have　planned　all　this　from
the　very　beginning。　Had　they　ever　intended　to　help　find　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance？　Or　did　their　real
interest　in　Golgotha　begin　and　end　with　Dar　Laq？
He　watched　the　white　discs　thrown　out　by　the　searchlights　as　they　climbed　the　far　wall；　and　his
jaw　dropped　open。　He　had　the　measure　of　the　cavern　now；　and　it　was　vast；　easily　two　to　three
kilometres　across　at　its　widest；　and　a　kilometre　high　where　the　cavern　walls　curved　inwards　to　meet
at　a　single　point。　Every　inch　of　the　walls　had　been　worked　by　alien　hands。　There　were　alcoves　within
alcoves；　pillared　walkways；　exquisitely　wrought　galleries　of　metal　and　so　much　more；　all　with　the
same　sharp；　angular　aesthetic　of　the　ground…level　buildings。　How　many　had　lived　here？　How　had
they　fashioned　such　a　place？　And　why　had　they　chosen　to　live　down　here　inside　the　mountain；
shunning　the　light　and　the　sky　above？
As　the　searchlights　reached　for　the　ceiling　of　the　chamber；　Bergen　gaped。　There　above　him　hung
the　most　incredible　feature　of　all；　perhaps　a　score　of　inverted　black　ziggurat…type　structures　linked
by　metal　gantries　and　platforms。　They　seemed　to　be　floating　in　the　air。
150
They　can’t　be；　he　told　himself。
He　dropped　back　down　into　his　Chimera　and　pulled　his　magnoculars　from　their　stowage　box。
Returning　to　his　cupola；　he　pressed　the　magnoculars　to　his　eyes　and　looked　up　again。　It　was　only
when　he　squinted　hard　through　the　lenses　that　he　realised　they　truly　were　floating　as　they　had　no
right　to。
“Emperor　protect　us；”　he　muttered。　“What　the　devil　is　going　on　here？”
A　sudden　burst　of　loud　static　from　his　vox…bead　almost　made　him　drop　his　magnoculars。　A
sharp；　familiar　voice　said；　“Bergen；　come　in。　I’m　calling　a　session　of　my　senior　officers　at　once。
Meet　me　at　the　rear　of　my　Chimera　in　three　minutes。　I’m　calling　on　the　tech…priests　to　account　for　all
this。　It’s　about　time　we　had　some　blasted　answers。”
“I’d　say　so；　sir；”　said　Bergen；　thinking　he　had　a　few　questions　of　his　own。
Wulfe　didn’t　like　this　one　damned　bit；　and　neither　did　any　of　his　crew。　Tanks　didn’t　belong
underground。　It　wasn’t　right。　It　wasn’t　natural。　What　if　there　was　a　cave…in　or　something？　He　wasn’t
claustrophobic。　No　tanker　would　last　very　long　with　that　particular　affliction；　but　something　about
this　whole　place　made　his　scar　itch　like　crazy。　No　human　hands　had　built　it。
Damned　xenos；　he　thought。　Nowhere　is　safe　from　them。
Things　could　have　been　worse。　Emperor　protect　all　the　footsloggers　who’d　gone　off　down　those
dark　alleyways　looking　for　signs　of　alien　occupation；　and　he　wouldn’t　have　swapped　places　with　the
Sentinel　pilots　and　Hornet　riders　that　were　out　mapping　the　cavern’s　extents；　but　sitting　and　waiting
wasn’t　much　fun　either。
He　and　his　crew；　like　most　of　the　other　tankers；　had　got　out　to　stretch　their　legs　after　the　long
journey　up　the　mountainside　and　down　through　the　tunnel。　Wulfe　still　felt　stiff；　but　he　tried　to　shake
it　off。　Metzger　was　sipping　water　from　one　of　the　jerrycans；　while　Beans　and　Siegler　were　standing
by　the　front　of　the　tank　speculating　about　what　they　saw。
Wulfe　heard　footsteps　behind　him。
“Your　lot　doing　all　right；　Oskar？”　asked　Lieutenant　van　Droi；　stopping　right　in　front　of　him。
Perhaps　it　was　just　the　quality　of　the　light；　but　Wulfe　thought　the　lieutenant　looked　terrible。　He
had　never　seen　him　like　this　before；　so　gaunt　and　tinged　with　red。　His　concern　must　have　shown　on
his　face；　because　van　Droi　suddenly　stood　up　a　little　straighter；　fixed　his　cap　lower　on　his　brow　and
said；　“You　don’t　look　so　hot　yourself；　you　know。”
Wulfe　winced。　“I’m　sure　I　don’t；　lieutenant。　Sorry。”
Van　Droi　waved　the　apology　off。
Wulfe　gestured　around　at　the　strange　metal　buildings。　He　didn’t　like　the　angles；　the　proportions；
the　lines。　They　didn’t　look　like　any　Imperial　buildings　he　had　ever　seen；　and　that　made　them　wrong。
“What　the　devil’s　going　on；　sir？”　he　asked。　“We　weren’t　told　anything　about　underground　cities
and　alien　races；　excepting　orks；　that　is。”
Van　Droi　nodded。　“No；　I　wasn’t　told　about　any　of　this　either。　To　be　honest；　Oskar；　I　don’t　think
the　higher…ups　expected　this。　General　deViers　was　furious　when　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance　wasn’t
where　it　should　have　been。”
“Is　it　supposed　to　be　down　here　somewhere？　Or　are　we　just　improvising？”
Van　Droi　frowned。　“According　to　the　tech…priests；　their　little　ritual　in　the　valley　was　some　kind
of　communion　with　the　Machine…God。　They　claim　this　route　will　take　us　directly　to　the　objective。
The　general’s　buying　it。　He　wants　us　to　push　on；　despite　the　circumstances。”
“You　ever　met　a　general　that　didn’t　want　that？”
Van　Droi　grinned。　“Not　that　I　remember；　no。”
When　Wulfe　spoke　again；　he　was　suddenly　serious。　“Listen；　sir。　I　have　to　ask　you　something。　I
hope　you　won’t　take　offence。”
“Sounds　ominous。”
151
“It’s　about　Palmeros。”
Van　Droi　looked　immediately　uncomfortable；　but　he　said；　“Go　on。”
“We　were　talking　about　it　in　the　officer’s　mess　back　in　Balkar。　You　remember；　sir。　The　day　we
lost　Strieber　and　Kohl…”
“The　canyon；”　said　Van　Droi；　not　meeting　Wulfe’s　gaze。　“Lugo’s　Ditch。”
“Right；”　said　Wulfe。　“Well；　sir；　things　happened　there…　Things　that　I　couldn’t　come　to　terms
with　at　the　time。　I’m　afraid　I　omitted　them　from　my　report；　sir。　I’m　not　sure　if—”
“We　don’t　need　to　do　this；　Oskar；”　van　Droi　interrupted。　“I’ve　never　pushed　you　on　what　exactly
happened　out　there。　If　you　hadn’t　omitted　certain　things；　I　would　have　done　it　for　you。　I’ve　seen
some　things　in　my　time；　let　me　tell　you；　things　that　beggared　belief。　High　Command　doesn’t　thank
you　for　reporting　things　like　that。”
Wulfe　knew　van　Droi　was　being　deliberately　vague；　trying　to　offer　him　a　nice