Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第3部分

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precautions　he　had　taken；　the　hammer　would　fall　regardless。
Abruptly；　still　three　men　away　from　Larn；　the　sergeant　stopped　to　turn　and　face　the　fair…haired
trooper　standing　in　front　of　him。　It　was　Trooper　Leden　—　his　favourite　target。　Tall　and　broadshouldered；
with　a　thick　neck　and　big　hands；　Leden　looked　even　more　the　farmboy　than　the　rest　of
the　men　in　the　company。　Even　now；　standing　to　attention　under　Ferres’　withering　glare；　Leden’s
face　was　open　and　guileless；　his　mouth　looking　as　though　it　could　break　into　a　warm　and　friendly
smile　at　any　moment。
“Your　lasgun；　trooper；”　the　sergeant　said。　“Give　it　to　me。”　Then；　taking　the　gun　from　Leden’s
outstretched　hands；　he　checked　the　safety；　before　inspecting　the　rest　of　the　gun　in　turn。
“What　is　the　best　way　for　a　Guardsmen　to　prevent　his　lasgun　from　failing　him　in　battle？”　Ferres
asked；　eyes　boring　into　Leden’s　face　as　he　spoke。
“I…　uh…　first　he　should　check　the　power　pack　is　not　empty。　Then；　reciting　the　Litany　of
Unjamming；　he　should…”
“I　asked　what　is　the　best　way　to　prevent　a　Guardsman’s　lasgun　from　failing　him；　Leden；”　the
sergeant　said；　cutting　him　off。　“Not　how　he　should　clear　a　jam　after　it　malfunctions！”
“Umm…”　for　a　moment　Leden　seemed　stymied；　until　his　eyes　lit　up　with　sudden　inspiration。
“The　Guardsman　should　clean　his　lasgun　every　day；　taking　care　to　recite　the　Litany　of　Cleanliness
as　he…”
“And　if；　because　he　has　failed　in　his　duty　to　keep　his　lasgun　clean；　the　Guardsman　finds　his
weapon　jams　in　the　heat　of　battle　and　he　cannot　fix　it？”　the　sergeant　cut　him　off　again。　“What　then；
Leden？　How　should　the　Guardsman　proceed？”
“He　should　fix　his　bayonet　to　the　mounting　lugs　on　his　lasgun’s　flash　suppressor；　sergeant；　and
use　it　to　defend　himself；”　Leden　replied；　an　edge　of　pride　to　his　voice　now　as　though　he　was　sure　he
had　finally　answered　one　of　his　sergeant’s　questions　correctly。
“In　the　heat　of　combat？　With　the　enemy　right　on　top　of　him？　What　if　he　doesn’t　have　time　to　fix
his　bayonet；　Leden？”
“Then；　he　should　use　his　lasgun　as　a　club；　sergeant。”
“A　club　you　say？”　the　sergeant　asked；　suddenly　placing　both　his　hands　at　the　end　of　the　lasgun’s
barrel　and　lifting　the　butt　of　the　weapon　above　his　head。　“What；　he　should　hold　his　lasgun　above　his
head　as　though　it　were　a　bat…stick　and　he　was　playing　shreev…ball？”
“Oh　no；　sergeant；”　Leden　replied　mildly；　apparently　unaware　that　with　every　word　he　was
digging　a　deeper　hole　for　himself。　“He　should　hold　his　lasgun　horizontally　with　his　hands　widely
spaced　as　though　it　were　a　short…staff　and　strike　the　enemy　with　the　butt。”
“Ah；　I　see；”　the　sergeant　said；　bringing　the　lasgun　down　and　holding　it　in　front　of　him　with　his
hands　in　the　positions　Leden　had　indicated。　“And　to　best　disable　the　enemy；　what　target　should　the
Guardsman　aim　at　—　the　face；　the　chest；　or　the　gut？”
“The　face；”　Leden　said；　an　idiot　smile　on　his　face；　while　every　other　Guardsman　in　the　company
winced　inwardly　at　what　they　knew　was　coming。
“I　see；”　Sergeant　Ferres　said；　bringing　the　butt　of　the　lasgun　up　quickly　to　smash　Leden　in　the
bridge　of　the　nose。　Screaming；　a　gout　of　blood　geysering　from　his　nose；　Leden　collapsed　to　his
knees。
“Get　up；　Leden；”　the　sergeant　said；　tossing　the　lasgun　back　to　him　as　Leden　shakily　rose　to　his
feet　once　more。
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“You　aren’t　seriously　injured。　Much　less　disabled。　Look　on　it　as　a　lesson。　Perhaps　next　time
you’ll　remember　to　clean　your　lasgun　more　carefully。　The　power　node　on　this　one　is　so　filthy；
chances　are　it’d　burn　out　after　a　few　shots。”
Turning　away　from　Leden；　the　sergeant　resumed　his　inspection。　Standing　three　men　down　the
line；　Larn　felt　weighed　down　by　the　expectation　of　impending　disaster。　Ferres　is　really　on　the
warpath　today；　he　thought。　There’s　no　way　he’ll　let　me　pass　muster。　He’ll　find　something　I’ve　done
wrong。　Some　little　thing。　He　always　does。　Then；　his　heart　rising　in　his　mouth；　Larn　saw　the　sergeant
pause　in　his　slow　procession　down　the　line　and　turn　to　face　him。
“Your　lasgun；　trooper！”　the　sergeant　said。　Then；　as　he　had　done　with　Leden　before　him；　he
checked　the　safety　before　inspecting　the　rest　of　the　gun　in　turn。　Sights；　barrel；　stock；　holding　lugs　—
for　long　seconds　Ferres　pored　minutely　over　the　lasgun　as　Larn　felt　sweat　gathering　at　the　back　of
his　collar。　Next；　pressing　the　release　catch　Ferres　pulled　the　power　pack　free　to　check　the　contacts
and　the　cell　well　were　clean。　Then；　glowering　as　he　snapped　the　power　pack　back　into　place；　Ferres
raised　his　eyes　to　look　at　Larn　once　more。
“Name　and　number！”　he　barked。
“Trooper　First　Class　Larn；　Arvin　A；　sergeant。　Number：　eight　one　five　seven　six　dash　three　eight
nine　dash　four　seven　two　dash　one！”
“I　see。　Then；　tell　me；　Trooper　First　Class　Larn；　Arvin　A；　why　did　you　join　the　Guard？”
“To　defend　the　Imperium；　sergeant。　To　serve　the　Emperor’s　will。　To　protect　humanity　from　the
alien　and　the　unclean。”
“And　how　will　you　do　those　things；　trooper？”
“I　will　obey　orders；　sergeant。　I　will　follow　the　chain　of　command。　I　will　fight　the　Emperor’s
enemies。　And　I　will　die　for　my　Emperor；　if　He　so　wills　it。”
“What　are　your　rights　as　a　member　of　the　Imperial　Guard？”
“I　have　no　rights；　sergeant。　The　Guardsman　willingly　forfeits　his　rights　in　return　for　the　glory　of
fighting　for　the　just　cause　of　our　Immortal　Emperor。”
“And　why　does　the　Guardsman　willingly　forfeit　his　rights？”
“He　forfeits　them　to　better　serve　the　Emperor；　sergeant。　The　Guardsman　has　no　need　of　rights　—
not　when　he　is　guided　by　the　infinite　wisdom　of　the　Emperor　and；　through　Him；　by　the　divinely
ordained　command　structure　of　the　Imperial　Guard。”
“And　if　you　should　meet　a　man　who　tells　you　this　things　are　wrong；　Larn？　If　you　should　meet　a
man　who　claims　the　Guard’s　command　structure　sometimes　makes　mistakes　and　needlessly　wastes
the　lives　of　the　men　under　its　command？”
“Then　I　will　kill　him；　sergeant。　That　is　the　only　way　to　treat　with　traitors　and　dissenters。”
“Hnn。　And　if　you　should　hear　a　man　spout　heresy；　Larn；　how　will　you　persuade　him　of　the　error
of　his　ways？”
“I　will　kill　him；　sergeant。　That　is　the　only　way　to　treat　with　the　heretic。”
“And　if　you　should　meet　the　xenos？”
“I　will　kill　it；　sergeant。　That　is　the　only　way　to　treat　with　the　xenos！”
“Very　good；　Larn；”　the　sergeant　said　to　him；　tossing　Larn’s　lasgun　back　to　him　before　turning　to
inspect　the　next　man　in　line。　“You’re　learning。　Perhaps　we’ll　make　a　Guardsman　of　you　yet。”
“No　bruises；　no　extra　laps；　not　even　a　demerit；”　Jenks　said。　It　was　an　hour　later；　and　Larn　sat　with
the　other　men　of　his　fireteam　at　one　of　the　long　tables　inside　the　mess　hall　as　their　company　waited
for　the　midday　meal　to　be　served。
“You　passed　muster　with　flying　colours　this　time；　Larnie。　Looks　like　Old　Ferres　is　starting　to
like　you。”
“Like　me？　I　don’t　think　he　likes　anyone。”　Larn　replied。　“Still；　I　can　hardly　believe　it　myself。　The
way　he　glowers　at　you；　you　always　think　he’s　going　to　put　you　on　report　no　matter　what　you　do。”
15
“Ah；　the　sergeant　isn’t　so　bad；”　said　Hallan；　the　squad　medic；　from　nearby　as　he　busied　himself
putting　a　dressing　on　Leden’s　damaged　nose。　“I　mean；　granted　he　can　be　tough；　but　he’s　pretty　fair
with　it。”
“Dair？”　Leden　said；　outraged。　“Da　dastard　doke　by　dose！”
“It　could　have　been　worse；　Leden；”　Hallan　said。　“Usually　when　Ferres　thinks　a　trooper’s　gun
isn’t　clean　enough　he　kicks　him　in　the　balls。　At　least　this　way　I　haven’t　got　to　get　you　to　drop　your
pants　to　tend　your　injuries。　And　besides；　next　time　the　sergeant　gives　you　a　choice　between　face；
chest；　or　gut　maybe　you’ll　be　smart　enough　to　say　‘toe’。”
“Ha；　say　that　and　you’ll　definitely　catch　one　in　the　balls；”　Jenks　laughed。　“No；　once　Ferres　has　a
burr　riding　him　he’s　going　to　hurt　you　one　way　or　another。　You　ask　me；　only　thing　you　can　do　is
take　your　lumps　and　tough　it　out。　Unless　you’re　like　Larnie　here；　of　course。　The　perfect
Guardsman。”
At　that；　they　all　smiled。　Even　though　the　jibe　—　such　as　it　was　—　was　directed　at　him；　Larn
smiled　with　them。　Even　without　the　light　tone　in　his　companion’s　voice；　he　would　have　known
Jenks　was　only　joking。　The　perfect　Guardsman。　Larn　might　well　have　just　passed　muster；　but　he　did
not　have　any　pretensions　in　that　regard。　Even　after　two　months　of　basic　training；　he　felt　no　more　a
Guardsman　now　than　he　had　on　the　day　when　he　had　first　been　drafted。
For　a　moment；　while　the　others　continued　their　conversation　around　him；　Larn　considered　how
much　his　life　had　changed　in　the　space　of　a　few　short　months。　The　day　after　his　conversation　with
his　father　in　the　cellar　he　had　taken　the　landrailer　to　the　town　of　Willans　Ferry；　and　from　there　on　to
the　regional　capital　Durnanville　to　report　for　induction。　From　Durnanville　he　had　been　sent　two
hundred　kilometres　east；　to　a　remote　staging　post　where　for　the　last　two　months　they　had　trained　him
to　become　a　Guardsman。
He　found　himself　looking　at　his　comrades。　Hallan　was　small　and　dark；　Jenks　tall　and　fair；　but
despite　the　differences　between　them　he　realised　they　did　not　look　any　more　like　Guardsmen　than
either　him　or　Leden。　Himself　included；　they　all　still　looked　like　what　they　were　—　farmboys。　Like
him；　they　were　all　the　sons　of　farmers。　So　for　that　matter　were　most　of　the　men　in　the　regiment。
They　were　all　of　them　farmboys；　fresh　from　the　fields　and　accustomed　to　lives　of　peaceful　obscurity。
The　arrival　of　the　induction　notices　had　changed　that　forever。　Now；　for　better　or　worse；　they　found
themselves　conscripted　as　Guardsmen。　Two　thousand　green　and　unproven　recruits；　sent　for　basic
training　at　this　staging　post　before　they　left　Jumael　IV　for　good。　Two　thousand　would…be
Guardsmen；　given　over　to　the　tender　mercies　of　men　like　Sergeant　Ferres　in　the　hope　they　could　be
made　into　soldiers　by　the　time　they　got　their　first　taste　of　action。
“Anyway；　if　you　ask　me；　Hallan　is　right；”　Jenks　said；　his　voice　breaking　into　Larn’s　thoughts。　“I
mean；　hard　as　Ferres　is；　at　least　you　know　where　you　stand　with　him。　Besides；　I　suppose　he’s　earned
the　right　to　be　hard。　Unlike　the　rest　of　us；　I　hear　he　was　regular　PDF　back　before　he　got　drafted。　He’s
probably　the　only　man　in　this　entire　regiment　who　knows　anything　about　soldiering。　And；　believe
you　me；　when　we　make　our　first　drop　and　the　lasfire　starts　flying　we’ll　be　glad　they　gave　us　a　man
like　that　to　lead　us。”
“Do　you　ever　think　about　it；　Jenks？”　Larn　asked。　“Do　you　ever　think　about　what　it　will　be　like
the　first　time　we　see　action？”
In　response　the　others　fell　silent　then；　their　faces　troubled　and　uneasy。　For　as　long　as　the　silence
lasted；　Larn　worried　he　had　said　too　much。　He　worried　that　something　in　his　voice；　some　tremor
perhaps　or　even　the　very　fact　he　had　thought　to　ask　the　question　at　all　had　been　enough　to　cause　the
others　to　start　to　doubt　him。　Then；　finally；　Hallan　smiled　at　him：　the　smile　telling　him　that　all　of
them　felt　the　same　nervousness　he　did　at　the　thought　of　seeing　combat。
“Don’t　worry；　Larnie；”　he　said；　“Even　if　you　do　get　hit　I’ll　be　on　hand　to　patch　you　up。”
“Lot　of　comfort　that　is；”　Jenks　said。　“I　thought　you　said　the　only　reason　they　made　you　a　medic
was　because　you　were　a　veterinary　back　home。”
16
“Actually；　it　was　my　father　who　was　the　veterinary　—　I　just　used　to　help　him　out；”　Hallan　said。
“So　not　only　do　I　know　how　to　mend　wounds；　Jenks；　but　if　we　come　across　a　pregnant　grox　I’ll　be
able　to　assist　with　the　birthing　as　well。”
“Just　so　long　as　you　don’t　get　the　two　mixed　up；　Hals；”　Jenks　said。　“Bad　enough　if　I　should　get
wounded；　without　having　to　worry　about　you　trying　to　put　your　hand　up　my　backside　because　you
think　I’m　about　to　calf。”
They　all　laughed；　the　sombre　mood　of　a　few　moments　before　gratefully　forgotten。　Then；　seeing
something　at　the　other　end　of　the　mess　hall；　Jenks　nodded　towards　it。
“Hey　oh；”　he　said。　“Looks　like　dinner’s　here　at　last。”
Following　the　direction　of　Jenks’　nod；　Larn　looked　over　to　see　Vorrans　—　the　fifth　member　of
their　fireteam　—　hurrying　over　towards　them　with　a　stack　of　mess　trays　balanced　in　his　hands　in
front　of　him。
“It’s　about　time；”　Hallan　said。　“I　swear　my　stomach’s　so　empty　I　was　starting　to　think　my
throat’d　been　cut。”　Then；　as　Vorrans　arrived　at　the　table　and　began　to　hand　out　the　mess　trays：
“Zell’s　tears；　what　took　you　so　long；　Vors？　This　food　is　barely　warm！”
“It’s　not　my　fault　the　mess　line　is　so　crowded　this　time　of　day；　Hals　Vorrans　said。　“Besides；
yesterday　when　it　was　your　turn　at　mess　duty　I　don’t　remember　you　getting　the　food　here　any　faster。
And　anyway；　remember　what　you　said　then？　Your　exact　words　were　‘It’s　not　like　this　slop　tastes
any　better　hot。’　That’s　what　you　said。”
“Excuses；　excuses；”　Hallan　replied；　before　turning　his　attention　fully　to　the　contents　of　his　mess
tray。　“Though　I　was　right　enough　about　this　slop。　Back　home　we　wouldn’t　have　fed　this　to　the　grox。
Still　it　fills　a　hole；　I　suppose。”
“Fills　a　hole　is　right；”　Jenks　said；　pulling　a　spoon　from　his　mess　kit　and　using　it　to　prod
suspiciously　at　the　sticky　grey　stew　in　his　own　mess　tray。　“You　should　keep　back　some　of　this　and
take　it　into　battle　with　you；　Hals。
“Anybody　gets　wounded　you　can　use　this　stuff　to　glue　them　back　together。”
“I　try　to　pretend　to　myself　it’s　alpaca　stew；”　Larn　said。　“You　know；　like　they　make　back　home。”
“And　does　that　work；　Larnie？”　Jenks　said。　“Does　it　make　it　taste　any　better？”
“Not　so　far；”　Larn　admitted　with　a　shrug。
“What　amazes　me；”　said　Vorrans；　“is　here　we　are；　surrounded　by　wheat　fields　on　every　side　in
one　of　the　most　productive　farming　regions　on　the　entire　planet。　Yet；　every　day；　instead　of　giving　us
real　food　they　give　us　this　reconstituted　swill。　If　you　ask　me；　it　makes　no　sense。”
“Well；　that’s　your　mistake　right　there；　Vors；”　Jenks　said。　“Asking　questions。　Don’t　you
remember　the　big　speech　Colonel　Stronhim　gave　us　on　the　first　day　of　induction？”
“Men　of　the　Jumael　14th；”　Hallan　said；　his　voice　taking　on　a　false　gravity　as　he　mocked　the　stern
patrician　tones　of　their　regimental　commander。　“In　the　months　and　years　to　come　you　will　find
yourselves　assailed　by　a　thousand　questions　every　time　you　are　dispatched　to　a　new　theatre　of
operations。　You　will　ask　yourselves　where　you　are　going；　how　long　will　it　take　to　get　there；　what
will　the　conditions　be　like　when　you　arrive。　You　must　put　such　things　from　your　mind。　The　Guard’s
divinely　ordained　command　structure　will　tell　you　what　you　need　to　know；　when　you　need　to　know
it。　Always　remember；　there　is　no　place　in　a　Guardsman’s　mind　for　questions。　Only　obedience！”
“That　was　really　good；　Hals；”　Larn　said。　“You　captured　the　old　man’s　voice　perfectly。”
“Well；　I’ve　been　practising；”　Hallan　said；　delighted。　“Though　I　tell　you　there　are　only　two
questions　I　want　answered：　where　are　they　sending　us　for　our　first　posting；　and　when　is　it　going　to
happen。”
“I　wouldn’t　hold　your　breathy　on　that　count；　Hals；”　Jenks　said。　“I　wouldn’t　expect　them　to　tell　us
anything　of　the　sort　until　they’re　good　and　ready。　And　anyway；　even　if　they　have　decided　where　and
when　we’re　going；　you　can　be　sure　we’ll　be　the　last　to　know　about　it。”
17
CHAPTER　THREE
15：17　hours　Imperial　Standard　Time
（Empyreal　Variance　Revised　Approximation）
Answers　in　the　Briefing　Room　—　Warp　Sickness　and　the　Rhythms　of　Sleep　—　On　the　Care　and
Handling　of　Imaginary　Ordnance
“We　should　be　there　in　three　weeks；　maybe　four；”　the　naval　officer　said；　standing　illuminated　in　the
glow　of　the　star　chart　on　the　pict…display　behind　him。　“Though　given　the　vagaries　of　warp　travel　and
the　relativity　of　time　in　the　Empyrean；　you　should　understand　that　giving　anything　even　resembling
a　definite　answer　in　this　regard　is　entirely　out　of　the　question。　Furthermore；　there　is　always　the
possibility　that　what　may　seem　like　three　weeks　to　us　may　prove　to　have　been　a　somewhat　longer
period　once　we　emerge　from　the　warp。　As　I　say；　time　is　relative　in　the　Empyrean。”
The　officer　droned　on；　his　sentences　strewn　with　terms　like　“trans…temporal　fluidity”；　“real…space
eddies”；　and　a　dozen　other　similarly　indecipherable　phrases。
Sitting　in　the　confines　of　a　briefing　room　already　made　cramped　and　stifling　by　the　presence　of
an　entire　company　of　Guardsmen　crammed　inside　it；　Larn　found　himself　forced　to　suppress　a　sudden
yawn。　Two　months　had　gone　by　since　the　day　he　had　first　passed　muster　on　the　parade　ground；　and
for　the　last　four　weeks　of　that　period　Larn’s　regiment　had　been　billeted　on　an　Imperial　troopship　en
route　to　what　promised　to　be　their　first　campaign。　Four　weeks；　and　today　at　last　their　superiors　had
finally　decided　to　tell　them　where　in　hell　it　was　they　would　be　going。
“Seltura　VII；　gentlemen；”　Lieutenant　Vinters　the　company　commander　said；　stepping　forward　to
address　his　men　as　the　naval　part　of　the　briefing　ended。　“That’s　where　we　are　going。　And　that　is
where　you　will　get　your　first　chance　to　serve　your　immortal　Emperor。”
Behind　the　lieutenant　the　image　on　the　pict…display　abruptly　changed；　the　naval　star　chart　giving
way　to　a　static　image　of　a　round　blue　world　set　against　the　blackness　of　space。　With　it　there　was　a
stirring　in　the　room　as；　almost　as　one；　two　hundred　Guardsmen　leaned　forward　from　their　lines　of
metal　chairs　for　a　better　view。　Then；　satisfied　he　had　their　attention；　Lieutenant　Vinters　used　the
remote　device　in　his　hand　to　change　the　pict…display　once　more；　revealing　an　aerial　view　of　a　forest
landscape。
“Seltura　VII　is　heavily　forested；”　Vinters　continued。　“Over　eighty　per　cent　of　the　planet’s
landmass　is　covered　in　temperate　rain　forest。　The　climate　is　mild　—　not　unlike　that　back　on　Jumael
IV；　I’m　told　—　though　with　something　like　twice　the　mean　average　rainfall　per　annum。　It　should　be
about　early　summer　by　the　time　we　arrive　to　make　planetfall；　so　you　can　expect　the　weather　to　be
hot　and　wet。”
Finding　himself　yawning　once　more；　Larn　hurriedly　raised　his　hand　to　cover　his　mouth。　Even
travelling　through　the　depths　of　the　void；　Sergeant　Ferres　had　not　let　up　on　them。　If　anything；　Ferres’
daily　training　regime　since　they　had　left　their　homeworld　was　harder　than　it　had　been　back　on
Jumael　IV；　the　only　difference　being　they　did　their　training　now　in　one　of　the　troopship’s　loading
bays　while　sardonic　naval　crewmen　paused　in　their　own　duties　to　watch　them　with　sneering　smiles。
Every　day；　Ferres　had　had　them　running　training　exercises　from　breakfast　to　lights　out。　It　was　not
just　the　effect　of　today’s　exertions　that　had　left　Larn　feeling　so　exhausted。
They　had　been　on　the　troopship　nearly　a　month　now；　jumping　in　and　out　of　the　Immaterium　for　a
few　days’　warp　travel　here；　a　few　days　there。　Each　time；　during　every　night　they　spent　in　the　warp；
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Larn　had　been　troubled　by　terrible　nightmares。　In　his　dreams　he　saw　alien　landscapes　populated　with
strange　and　horrific　creatures　—　dreams　that　had　him　waking　in　a　cold　sweat　in　his　bunk　every
night；　his　heart　heavy　with　a　sickening　and　nameless　dread。　Warp　sickness；　the　ship　apothecary　had
called　it　when　half　of　the　regiment　had　reported　for　sick　duty　after　their　first　night　in　the　warp。　You
will　get　used　to　it　in　time。　For　Larn；　the　pills　the　apothecary　had　given　him　to　help　him　sleep　had
proven　of　little　use。　He