Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第12部分

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new　fish。　Stay　close　to　me；　Scholar　and　Davir；　and　you’ll　be　all　right。”
“You　will　forgive　me；　Bulaven；”　Larn　said　to　the　big　man。　“But　it　didn’t　sound　too　much　like
that　when　you　were　talking　before。”
“Ach；　I　told　you：　you　shouldn’t　worry　about　that；　new　fish；”　Bulaven　said。　“As　I　say；　Davir
didn’t　mean　too　much　by　it。　It　is　simply　his　manner　to　sound　off　from　time　to　time；　and　you　just
happened　to　get　in　his　way。　Personally；　I　think　it　is　because　he　is　shortarse。　He　likes　to　talk　a　lot　to
make　himself　seem　important。　Trust　me；　you　should　just　put　it　from　your　mind　as　though　it　never
happened。”
“And　the　fifteen　hours？”　Larn　said　quietly。　“What　about　that？”
In　reply　Bulaven　fell　silent　for　a　moment；　his　broad　and　kindly　features　abruptly　given　over　to　an
almost　pensive　brooding。　Until；　at　length；　he　spoke　once　more。
“Sometimes；　it　is　better　not　to　think　too　much　on　such　things；　new　fish；”　he　sighed。　“Sometimes；
it　is　better　just　to　have　faith。”
“Faith？”　Larn　asked。　“You　mean　in　the　Emperor？”
“Yes。　No。　Perhaps；”　Bulaven　said；　his　words　growing　as　slow　and　thoughtful　as　his　expression。
“I　don’t　know；　new　fish。　I　used　to　believe　in　so　many　things　back　when　I　first　became　a　Guardsman。
I　believed　in　the　generals。　I　believed　in　the　commissars。　Most　of　all；　I　believed　in　the　Emperor。　Now；
I　certainly　don’t　believe　in　the　first　two　anymore。　And　as　for　the　Emperor？　Sometimes　it　is　hard　to
see　His　grace　among　all　this　carnage。　But　a　man　must　have　faith　in　something。　And　so；　yes；　I　still
believe　in　the　Emperor。　I　believe　in　Him。　And　I　believe　in　Sergeant　Chelkar。　Those　are　the　two
articles　of　my　faith；　such　as　they　are。”
“But　there　is　something　else；　new　fish；”　he　continued。　“Something　just　as　important　as　faith。
Hope。　Davir　is　wrong　about　that；　you　see。　A　man　must　have　hope；　or　he　might　as　well　not　be　alive。　It
is　as　important　as　the　air　we　breathe。　So；　no　matter　how　bad　things　get；　new　fish　—　no　matter　how
bleak　they　seem　—　you　must　remember　not　to　give　up　hope。　Trust　me；　if　you　can　hold　on　to　your
hope；　everything　will　be　all　right。”
With　that；　Bulaven　fell　silent　again　and　Larn　found　himself　remembering　his　talk　with　his　father
in　the　farmhouse　cellar　on　his　last　night　at　home。　Trust　to　the　Emperor；　his　father　had　told　him　then。
And；　now；　Bulaven　had　told　him　to　trust　to　hope。　Though　in　his　heart　he　knew　them　both　to　be　good
pieces　of　advice；　as　he　looked　out　at　the　desolate　and　foreboding　landscape　around　him　they　seemed
of　little　comfort。
A　single　shot　rang　out；　the　sound　of　it　unnaturally　loud　after　the　silence。　Acting　on　reflex　Larn
jumped　back　from　the　firing　step　in　search　of　cover；　only　to　fall　backwards　into　the　trench　to　land　on
top　of　Davir；　causing　the　stocky　runt　to　awaken　in　a　flurry　of　profanities。
“Marshal　Kerchan’s　bloody　arse！”　Davir　cursed　as　he　pushed　Larn　away。　“Can’t　a　man　get　any
sleep　around　here　without　some　idiot　jumping　on　top　of　him　with　two　boots　first！　What；　you　have
mistaken　me　for　your　mother；　new　fish；　and　you　wanted　a　cuddle？　Get　the　hell　off　me！”
“There　was　a　shot；　Davir；”　Bulaven　said；　still　standing　on　the　firing　step；　head　crouched　to　peer
cautiously　over　the　trench　parapet。　“From　out　in　no…man’s　land。　A　sniper；　I　think。　That　is　what　the
new　fish　was　reacting　to。”
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“He　can　react　to　it　all　he　wants　so　long　as　he　doesn’t　keep　leaping　on　me；”　Davir　said；　grabbing
his　lasgun　and　stepping　up　to　the　firing　step　beside　Bulaven　to　gaze　wolfishly　into　no…man’s　land。
“So。　A　sniper；　eh？　Scholar；　hand　me　your　field　glasses　and　we　will　see　if　we　can　find　him。”
Soon；　Scholar　and　Zeebers　had　joined　Davir　and　Bulaven　on　the　firing　step。　Then；　handing　the
field　glasses　to　Davir；　Scholar　turned　to　look　over　his　shoulder　at　Larn　standing　at　the　bottom　of　the
trench　behind　him。
“You　should　come　up　and　watch　this；　new　fish；”　Scholar　said。　“It　is　important　you　learn　how　to
deal　with　a　sniper。”
Taking　his　place　on　the　step　next　to　Scholar；　Larn　watched　as　the　other　men　stared　intently　into
no…man’s　land；　scanning　for　anything　out　of　place。　Until；　indicating　a　shell　crater　perhaps　three
hundred　metres　away　from　their　trench；　Davir’s　wolfish　smile　became　a　broad　grin　of　delight。
“There；”　he　said。　“I　see　him。　Keep　your　heads　down　—　the　little　gretch　bastard　is　already
looking　for　his　next　shot。　He’s　not　the　brightest　of　sparks；　however。　He　may　have　painted　himself
grey　to　blend　in　with　the　mud；　but　apparently；　nobody　told　him　a　sniper’s　not　supposed　to　fire　twice
from　the　same　position。”
As　though　in　response　another　shot　rang　out；　raising　a　clod　of　earth　as　the　bullet　struck　the
ground　three　metres　to　the　left　of　the　trench。
“Ha！　He’s　not　much　a　shot　either；”　Davir　said；　handing　the　field　glasses　to　Bulaven　beside　him。
“Really；　I　think　we　should　consider　sending　a　letter　of　complaint　to　the　orks　about　the　quality　of　the
gretchin　they　choose　for　sniper　duty。　This　one　is　so　poor　a　marksman；　killing　him　seems　almost　a
waste　of　a　lasblast。”
“It　is　another　one　of　the　hazards　here；　new　fish；”　Scholar　said　to　Larn。　“Every　now　and　again　the
orks　will　equip　a　particularly　level…headed　gretchin　with　a　long　rifle　and　send　him　out　into　no…man’s
land　to　act　as　a　sniper。　Of　course；　gretchin　are　hardly　renowned　for　their　marksmanship；　so　mostly
they　are　just　a　nuisance。　But　we　have　to　take　them　out；　all　the　same。　Which　unfortunately　means　that
one　of　us　here　will　have　to　act　as　bait。”
“I　vote　for　the　new　fish；”　Zeebers　said；　sneering　at　him。　“He　is　expendable；　after　all；　and　you
never　known　when　a　gretch　might　get　lucky。”
“Very　kind　of　you　to　volunteer　him；”　Davir　said；　his　las…gun　at　his　shoulder　as　he　sighted　in　on
the　shell　crater。　“Especially　since；　if　memory　serves；　it　is　actually　your　turn　to　act　as　sniper　bait。
Now　shut　your　stinkhole　and　get　out　there。　And　make　sure　you　give　the　gretch　plenty　of　opportunity
to　shoot　at　you。　I　want　a　clear　view　of　him　so　I　can　be　sure　of　a　clean　kill。”
Muttering　darkly　under　his　breath；　Zeebers　grabbed　his　lasgun　and　put　his　hands　on　the　top　of
the　trench　wall　to　the　side　of　him。　Then；　giving　Larn　a　last　poisonous　glare；　he　pulled　himself　up　out
of　the　trench　and　jumped　into　the　open。　The　moment　his　feet　hit　the　ground　he　was　off　and　running；
zigzagging　with　his　body　half…crouched　as　he　sprinted　across　open　ground　to　the　next　nearest　firing
trench　and　threw　himself　inside　to　safety。
“No；”　said　Davir；　still　peering　through　his　sights　towards　the　shell　crater。　“He　is　still　in　cover。
Maybe　our　friend　is　smarter　than　we　think。　Or　perhaps　he　simply　finds　Zeebers　to　be　a　rather
scrawny　and　uninspiring　target。　Either　way；　I　haven’t　got　a　shot　yet。”
“Again；　Zeebers！”　Scholar　yelled；　waving　toward　the　next　trench。
Discontent　clearly　visible　on　every　line　of　his　face　even　from　a　distance；　Zeebers　leapt　from　the
trench　again　and　ran　zigzag　once　more　toward　the　next　trench　in　line。
“He’s　moving；”　Bulaven　said；　gazing　through　the　field　glasses　towards　the　crater。　“Looks　like
he’s　taken　the　bait。”
“Quiet；”　Davir　hissed。　“You　are　putting　me　off。”　Then；　exhaling　slowly；　he　pulled　the　trigger；
producing　a　single　sharp　crack　as　the　lasgun　fired。
“You　got　him！”　Bulaven　said；　passing　the　field　glasses　to　Larn　with　a　smile　of　exultation。　“Look；
new　fish。　You　see　that？　He　got　him。”
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“Of　course　I　got　him；”　Davir　said。　Then；　as　he　clicked　the　firing　control　switch　on　his　lasgun　to
safe；　the　wolfish　smile　returned。　“Though　it　was　a　remarkably　fine　shot；　even　if　I　do　say　so　myself。”
Gazing　through　the　field　glasses　Larn　looked　toward　the　shell　crater；　at　first　unable　to　distinguish
any　sign　of　the　gretchin　in　the　grey　landscape。　Then；　he　saw　it：　a　small　red　stain　lying　across　a　grey
rock　at　the　lip　of　the　crater。　Abruptly；　adjusting　the　magnification　of　the　field　glasses　to　take　a　closer
look；　Larn　realised　he　had　been　mistaken。　What　he　thought　was　a　rock　was　in　fact　the　gretchin’s
head；　the　red　stain　being　the　contents　of　the　creature’s　brains　as　they　oozed　through　the　hole　in　its
ruptured　skull　and　dribbled　towards　the　ground。　The　creature　was　dead；　the　only　sign　of　its　passing　a
smear　of　red　against　the　all…encompassing　greyness　of　the　world　around　it。　A　bright　splash　of　colour
in　the　midst　of　a　wasteland。
“Did　you　see　how　Zeebers　did　it；　new　fish？”　Bulaven　asked　him。　“Did　you　see　how　he　kept
crouched　and　ran　zigzag　from　one　trench　to　the　next；　so　he　wouldn’t　give　the　gretch　too　much　of　a
target？”
“Yes；　I　saw　it；”　Larn　said；　sensing　some　unwelcome　portent　in　the　concern　evident　in　the　big
man’s　manner。　It　was　almost　as　though　Bulaven　was　warning　him　about　something。　“But；　why　do
you　ask？”
“Why　do　you　think；　new　fish？”　Davir　grunted。　“Because；　now　Zeebers　has　been　kind　enough　to
show　you　how　it　is　done；　next　time　we　have　a　sniper　it　is　your　turn　to　act　as　bait。”
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CHAPTER　TEN
16：33　hours　Central　Broucheroc　Time
A　Daily　Dose　of　Hell　—　Further　Musings　on　the　Frontline　—　Friendly　Fire　—　Intimations　of　an
Unwelcome　Burial　—　Another　Consultation　with　Medical　Officer　Svenk　—　Corporal　Grishen　and
Certain　Failures　in　Communications　—　Sergeant　Chelkar　Finds　a　Way　to　Make　his　Point
“Battery；　make　ready！”　he　heard　Sergeant　Dumat’s　voice　shouting　in　his　earpiece。　“Gun　crews
remove　camo…covers　and　make　ready　to　open　the　breech！”
As　though　an　army　of　quiescent　insects　had　been　provoked　into　action；　in　an　instant　the　artillery
park　became　a　nest　of　activity。　Everywhere；　gun　crews　rushed　to　their　posts　to　pull　away
camouflaged　tarpaulins　and　make　ready　for　firing。　Watching　as　the　camo…covers　were　discarded　to
reveal　the　huge　and　gleaming　bores　of　the　dozen　Hellbreaker　class　cannons　under　his　command；
Captain　Alvard　Valerius　Meran　allowed　himself　a　moment　of　pleasure　as　he　saw　the　extra　firing
drills　he　had　ordered　for　his　men　had　worked。　There　was　no　sign　of　slackness；　ill　discipline　or
confusion　in　the　workings　of　the　gun　crews。　The　entire　battery　operated　with　all　the　smooth
efficiency　of　a　single；　finely　tuned；　well…oiled　machine。
“Load　ordnance。”　Sergeant　Dumat　yelled；　the　strident　tones　of　the　command　carried　to　the　ears
of　every　man　in　the　battery　through　the　comm…beads　inside　the　ear…protectors　they　wore　to　protect
them　from　the　sound　of　their　guns。　“High　explosive　rounds。”
Standing　in　the　shadow　of　the　burnt…out　building　that　served　as　his　de　facto　headquarters；
Captain　Meran　watched　the　four…man　loading　teams　attached　to　each　gun　crew　as　they　hurried　to
disappear　into　the　tarpaulin…covered　ammunition　stacks　beside　each　gun。　A　moment　later　they
emerged　once　more；　each　loading　team　gently　cradling　the　shining　and　deadly　weight　of　a　metre
long　high　explosive　shell　between　them。　Then；　carrying　them　to　their　guns；　the　loaders　lifted　their
shells　into　the　open　breeches　for　the　other　members　of　the　guns　crews　to　ram　them　home。
“Load　propellant。”
Again；　delighting　at　every　well…trained　movement　and　flawless　action；　Meran　watched　as　the
loading　teams　returned　to　the　stacks　to　fetch　the　heavy　barrel…sized　cylindrical　sacks　of　cordite　that
served　as　propellant　for　the　cannons。　Grunting　under　the　weight；　taking　even　more　care　with　the
volatile　cordite　than　they　had　with　the　shells；　the　loading　teams　lifted　the　sacks　into　the　guns’
breeches；　then　retreated　to　their　positions　beside　the　ammunition　stacks　once　more。
“Close　breeches。　Set　firing　trajectories　as　follows。　Horizontal　traverse：　five　degrees　twenty…six
minutes。　Repeat：　zero　five　degrees　two　six　minutes。　Vertical　elevation：　seventy…eight　degrees　thirtyone
minutes。　Repeat：　seven　eight　degrees　three　one　minutes。　Windage：　zero　point　five　degrees。
Repeat：　zero　point　five　degrees。”
And　so　the　sergeant’s　voice　went　on；　repeating　the　bearings　again　as　the　gun　crews　worked　the
wheels　and　gearings　of　their　guns’　aiming　systems　to　adjust　the　Hellbreakers　to　the　proper
trajectories。　Until；　their　preparations　at　last　completed；　the　gun　crews　stepped　back　from　their　guns
and　awaited　the　firing　instruction。
Yes；　Captain　Meran　thought。　Just　like　a　machine。　Really；　that　was　a　most　excellent　display　of
gunmanship。　It　is　a　shame　no　one　from　Battery　Command　was　here　to　see　it。　If　they　had　been；　they
would　have　been　sure　to　have　given　me　a　commendation。
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Briefly；　he　wondered　whether　he　should　order　an　extra　ration　of　recaf　for　the　gun　crews　by　way
of　a　reward。　Just　as　swiftly　he　abandoned　the　idea。　It　might　set　a　dangerous　precedent　to　give　the
men　any　additional　reward　for　simply　doing　their　duty。　No；　it　would　be　pleasure　enough　that　they
could　all　go　to　their　beds　tonight　knowing　they　had　performed　their　duties　with　admirable　dispatch。
Then；　noticing　his　men　looking　towards　him　with　expectant　faces　as　they　awaited　the　order　to　fire；
Meran　made　an　elaborate　show　of　taking　his　pocket　chronometer　from　its　chain　and　opening　it　to
check　the　time。　16：30　hours　exactly；　he　thought　with　a　smile；　hand　going　to　the　comm…stud　at　the
collar　of　his　uniform　as　he　make　ready　to　vox　the　command　to　Sergeant　Dumat　to　give　the　order　to
let　loose　the　guns。
Time　to　give　the　orks　their　daily　dose　of　hell。
Perhaps　half　an　hour　had　passed　since　they　had　killed　the　sniper。　Half　an　hour。　Yet　still；　having
returned　to　the　trench　in　the　wake　of　acting　as　bait；　Zeebers　sat　sullenly　in　a　corner　glaring
murderously　at　Davir　and　the　others。　Most　of　all；　he　glared　at　Larn：　his　eyes　full　to　the　brim　with
hatred　and　loathing。　Not　for　the　first　time；　Larn　found　himself　wondering　how　it　was　the　man　had
taken　so　badly　against　him　for　no　apparent　reason。　Though；　given　Zeebers’　current　demeanour；　he
thought　better　of　asking　him　outright　why　he　hated　him。
Elsewhere　in　the　trench；　the　others　had　resumed　the　same　positions　they　had　occupied　before　the
sniper’s　opening　shot。　Davir　had　his　back　against　the　spare　flamer　canisters　and　was　wrapped　dozing
in　an　extra　greatcoat　once　more。　Scholar　had　returned　to　his　book。　Bulaven　was　still　on　the　firing
step；　gazing　out　into　no…man’s　land　on　watch　with　Larn　beside　him。　Now；　with　the　passing　of　the
brief　excitement　caused　by　the　sniper；　the　big　man　had　fallen　as　quiet　as　the　others。
So　much　has　changed；　Larn　thought；　finding　the　brooding　silence　of　the　past　half…hour　had　at
least　given　him　time　to　think。　A　few　hours　ago　I　was　with　Jenks　and　the　others；　getting　ready　to
make　our　first　planetary　drop　and　wondering　what　to　expect。　Even　in　our　worst　nightmares　none　of
us　could　have　thought　of　this。　Certainly；　Jenks　wouldn’t　have　expected　to　die　in　his　chair　without
even　leaving　the　lander。　Any　more　than　Sergeant　Ferres　would　have　expected　to　he　killed　by　a
misfiring　explosive　bolt。　The　same　goes　for　Hallan；　Vorrans　and　Leden。　It　is　like　I　remember　that
old　preacher　saying　one　time。　You　never　know　what　the　shape　of　your　death　is　going　to　be　until　it
has　got　you。　And；　by　then；　it　is　already　too　late　to　do　anything　about　it。
Sobered　by　the　thought；　shivering　against　the　cold；　Larn　looked　out　into　no…man’s　land　and　tried
to　make　some　sense　of　how　it　was　he　had　come　to　be　there。　Try　as　he　might　he　could　see　no　sense　in
it。　No　sense　in　the　mistake　that　had　brought　him　to　this　place。　No　sense　in　the　deaths　of　his　friends
and　comrades。　No　sense　to　the　fact　that　it　seemed　his　life　was　now　under　a　fifteen…hour　sentence　of
death。　He　could　see　no　sense　in　it。　No　sense　at　all。
Turning　to　glance　down　at　the　others　from　his　position　on　the　firing　step；　Larn　noticed　he　could
just　about　see　the　faded　gold　leaf　lettering　of　the　title　on　the　cracked　leather　cover　of　the　timeworn
and　battered　book　that　Scholar　was　reading。　Under　The　Eagle；　the　book’s　title　read。　Glorious
Accounts　of　Valour　from　the　Annals　of　the　Imperial　Guard。　Larn　had　heard　the　book　mentioned　in
basic　training。　It　was　a　compilation　of　stirring　accounts　of　the　brave　actions　and　past　successes　of
just　a　few　of　the　many　millions　of　different　regiments　of　the　Emperor’s　armies。
Watching　Scholar　as　he　read　the　book；　Larn　saw　the　man’s　face　break　into　an　occasional　smile
from　time　to　time　as　though　in　sarcastic　amusement　at　some　passage　he　had　seen　there。　Again；　Larn
found　himself　wondering　about　Scholar’s　background。　Davir　had　mentioned　something　about　him
no　longer　being　in　the　scholarium。　Could　it　be　that　Scholar　had　once　been　a　student　in　some　place　of
higher　learning！　He　certainly　had　the　disposition　for　it；　and　he　seemed　better　informed　than　any　of
the　other　men　in　the　trench。　If　he　really　was　a　scholar；　what　was　he　doing　serving　in　a　forward　firing
position　on　the　frontlines？　It　was　a　mystery。　As　much　of　a　mystery　as　everything　else　about　the
behaviour　and　motivations　of　the　men　around　him。
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With　a　sudden　sadness　born　of　isolation；　Larn　realised　he　understood　nothing　about　the　men　who
shared　the　trench　with　him。　Nor　for　that　matter　did　he　understand　any　of　the　other　men　he　had　met
so　far　in　Broucheroc。　Corporal　Vladek；　Medical　Officer　Svenk；　Sergeant　Chelkar；　Vidmir；　Davir；
Zeebers；　poor　dead　Repzik　—　none　of　them　seemed　remotely　like　any　of　the　people　he　had　known
before　he　had　come　to　this　planet。　By　turns　they　were　gruff；　sardonic；　cynical；　world…weary；
intimidating；　not　to　say　largely　contemptuous　of　all　the　institutions　and　traditions　Larn　had　been
raised　to　cherish。　Even　with　Bulaven；　the　most　sympathetic　and　friendly　of　the　Vardans；　Larn　could
sense　a　certain　reserve　as　though　the　big　man　was　wary　of　getting　to　know　him　too　well。　It　was　more
than　that。　More　than　any　remoteness　of　manner　or　lack　of　empathy。　These　men　seemed　entirely
unknowable　to　him：　almost　as　alien　in　their　own　way　as　the　orks。　It　was　as　though　some　strange　and
entirely　new　species　of　Man；　far　removed　from　Larn’s　understanding；　had　been　given　life　by　this
place。
A　new　species；　he　thought　with　a　shiver　that　owed　nothing　whatsoever　to　the　coldness　of　the　air。
A　new　species；　forged　in　hell　and　nurtured　on　the　fields　of　slaughter。
“You　seem　caught　up　in　your　troubles；　new　fish。”　Bulaven　said　beside　him；　the　sound　of　his
voice　after　so　much　silence　making　Larn　jump。　“As　though　the　weight　of　this　entire　world　was　on
your　shoulders。　It　cannot　be　so　bad　as　that；　though。　A　centi…credit　for　your　thoughts？”
For　a　moment；　wondering　if　it　was　possible　to　give　words　to　all　the　confused　welter　of　thoughts
and　emotions　whirling　inside　him；　Larn　was　silent。　Then；　just　as　he　was　about　to　speak　in　answer　to
Bulaven’s　question；　they　heard　the　forboding　thunder　of　artillery　fire　in　the　distance　behind　them。
“Hmm。　Sounds　like　they’re　firing　the　HeeBees。”　Bulaven　said；　turning　to　look　toward　the　sound
of　firing。
“HeeBees？”　Larn　asked。
“Hellbreakers；”　said　Bulaven　distractedly。　“A　local　variant　on　the　Earthshaker；　just　bigger。　Now
please　be　quiet；　new　fish。　We　need　to　listen。”
From　far　away　Larn　began　to　hear　the　high…pitched　scream　of　artillery　shells　in　flight。　Moving
ever　closer；　the　sound　of　the　shells’　passage　high　in　the　air　above　them　grew　louder　by　the　instant。
Until；　by　the　time　the　noise　was　directly　overhead；　the　character　of　the　shells’　screaming　abruptly
changed；　reaching　a　terrifyingly　shrill　and　strident　crescendo　as　the　shells　began　their　final　deathdive
shriek。
“Incoming！”　Bulaven　yelled；　grabbing　Larn　by　the　collar　and　pulling　him　down　with　him　as　he
suddenly　leapt　towards　the　bottom　of　the　trench。
His　stomach　rebounding　hard　a