Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第9部分

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number　of　standard　issue　Guardsmen’s　field　rucksacks；　the　contents　of　which　the　corporal　was
currently　busy　digging　through　with　the　grim　enthusiasm　of　a　bandit　chieftain　surveying　his　latest
spoils。
“Corporal　Vladek？”　Larn　asked；　approaching　the　table。　“Medical　Officer　Svenk　said　I　should
come　see　you。”
“Ah；　more　cannon　fodder；”　the　corporal　said；　pushing　the　rucksacks　aside　to　clear　a　space　as　he
looked　up　at　Larn　with　the　glint　of　a　smile　in　his　red…rimmed　eyes。　“Always　good　to　see　some　new
grist　for　the　mill。　Welcome　to　the　902nd　Vardan；　new　fish。　Find　yourself　a　chair。　You　would　like
some　recaf？　I　have　some　brewing。”
Turning　to　the　battered　pot　of　recaf　perched　precariously　on　a　small　hotplate　beside　him；　the
corporal　produced　a　pair　of　enamel　cups　and　filled　them　to　the　brim　with　black　steaming　liquid。　He
noticed　Larn　staring　darkly　down　at　one　of　the　rucksacks　still　left　on　the　table。
“Here　we　go。　Two　cups　of　Vladek’s　special　recaf；　nice　and　hot；”　the　corporal　said。　“Sadly；　we
have　to　make　do　with　a　ground…up　concoction　of　local　roots　and　tubers　rather　than　the　real　thing。
Even　the　Emperor　himself　would　be　hard　pressed　to　find　any　real　recaf　in　this　hellhole；　and　we　all
know　he　can　work　miracles。　To　give　it　a　bit　more　kick　I　mix　in　a　tenth　of　a　dose　of　powdered　stimms
which；　incidentally；　works　wonders　for　the　flavour。　But　I　see　you　seem　to　be　interested　in　one　of　my
latest　acquisitions；　new　fish。　Though；　from　the　expression　on　your　face；　I　have　a　feeling　you’re　not
about　to　make　me　an　offer。”
“This　rucksack；”　Larn　said；　feeling　dead　inside　as　he　looked　at　the　words　Jumael　14th　stamped
on　the　side。　“It　could　have　belonged　to　one　of　my　friends。”
“I　wouldn’t　be　surprised；”　Vladek　said；　then　gestured　at　the　pile　of　rucksacks　lying　on　the　floor
beside　him。　“If　not　this　one；　then　perhaps　one　of　these　other　packs　did。　So？　What　of　it？　It　is　not　as
though　this　equipment　is　likely　to　be　of　help　to　its　previous　owners　anymore。　While　it　could　mean
the　difference　between　life　and　death　for　someone　still　living　on　the　line。　It　is　a　simple　matter　of　the
fair　and　logical　distribution　of　resources；　new　fish。　Which；　in　this　case；　means　that　the　living　get　to
keep　the　things　the　dead　no　longer　have　any　use　for。　Besides；　if　I　hadn’t　had　the　foresight　to　liberate
these　packs　from　the　bodies　of　the　dead；　someone　else　would　have。　You　would　have　preferred　I　had
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let　the　militia　auxiliaries　get　them　so　they　could　make　us　trade　for　the　contents？　This　is　Broucheroc；
new　fish。　Forget　all　that　nine…tenths　rubbish。　Here；　possession　is　the　whole　of　the　law。”
“And　if　I　was　killed？”　said　Larn；　angrily。　“Would　you　loot　my　body　as　well？”
“In　a　heartbeat；　new　fish。　Your　lasgun；　your　bayonet；　your　pack；　your　boots；　not　to　mention
whatever　medical　supplies　the　esteemed　Svenk　was　kind　enough　to　leave　you　with。　Anything　that
might　be　of　use　to　us。　But　you　needn’t　feel　so　put　upon。　It　is　the　same　for　everyone　here；　myself
included。　If　I　am　killed　tomorrow；　I　should　expect　to　have　my　equipment　stripped　and　re…allocated
before　my　body　even　goes　cold。”
“Not　much　likelihood　of　that　happening；”　Larn　spat。　“Not　with　you　sitting　warm　and　safe　in　here
in　this　dugout　while　outside　good　men　are　dying！”
“Good　men？”　Vladek　said；　his　voice　low　with　menace　as　the　warm　facade　of　moments　earlier
abruptly　faded。　“Don’t　talk　to　me　about　good　men　dying；　new　fish。　In　ten　years　in　this　stinking
cesspit　I’ve　seen　men　—　good　and　bad　—　die　by　their　thousands。　Some　of　them　were　friends　of
mine。　Others　weren’t。　But　any　one　of　them　was　worth　more　than　you　and　all　your　idiot　recruit
friends　put　together。　You　think　just　because　I’m　sitting　here　I　don’t　know　what　it　is　to　fight？　I　was
killing　the　Emperor’s　enemies　when　you　were　still　sucking　greedily　at　your　mother’s　teat。　How　else
do　you　think　I　ended　up　with　a　leg　like　this？”
Taking　an　enormous　combat　knife　from　the　table　before　him　Vladek　smacked　it　down　against
his　left　leg　for　emphasis；　the　flat　of　the　blade　making　a　dull　metallic　noise　through　his　trouser　leg　as
it　struck　his　knee。
“You　have　an　augmetic　leg？”　Larn　said；　shocked。
“Augmetic？　Phah。　The　chance　would　be　a　fine　thing！　Along　with　everything　else　bionics　are　in
short　supply　hereabouts。　This　is　a　Mark　3　Non…Motive　Prosthetic；　Left　Leg　Model。　I　had　to　barter
the　salvaged　parts　from　a　knocked…out　sentinel　for　it；　never　mind　what　it　cost　me　to　get　the　damned
apothecary　to　fit　it。　Now；　I　think　it’s　time　you　sat　down　and　stopped　your　mewling；　new　fish。　Before
I　become　so　offended　at　your　big　mouth　and　flagrant　disregard　for　my　hospitality　that　I　waste　this
good　recaf　by　throwing　it　in　your　stupid　snot…nosed　face。”
Hearing　someone　laugh　in　another　part　of　the　dugout；　Larn　suddenly　realised　the　other　Vardans
must　have　heard　every　word　Vladek　had　said　to　him。　His　face　burning　with　shame　and
embarrassment　Larn　took　a　chair　and　sat　opposite　the　corporal　with　eyes　lowered；　unwilling　to　meet
the　other　man’s　gaze　for　fear　his　cheeks　were　still　flaring　scarlet。
“Drink　your　recaf；　new　fish；”　the　corporal　said；　the　storm　of　his　anger　passing　as　abruptly　as　it
had　started。　“We　will　begin　again；　you　and　I。　Wipe　the　slate　clean。　I　know　it　has　been　a　hard　day　for
you　after　all；　and　so　I　am　willing　to　make　allowances。　It　is　not　every　day　that　a　Guardsman　finds　he
has　been　dropped　on　the　wrong　planet。”
“You　know　about　that？”　Larn　said；　stunned。　“Did　one　of　the　men　I　was　in　the　trench　with　tell
you？　Repzik　said—”
“Repzik　is　dead；　new　fish；”　Vladek　said。　“He　died　in　the　last　attack。　We　talked　about　good　men？
Well；　Repzik　was　one　of　the　best。　I　knew　him　nearly　twenty　years；　all　told。　From　back　on　Vardan；
even　before　we　were　drafted　into　the　Guard　together。　The　parts　from　the　sentinel　I　used　to　buy　this
leg？　It　was　Repzik　who　went　into　no…man’s　land　to　get　them　for　me。　Like　I　said；　a　good　man。　But
no；　to　answer　your　question；　it　wasn’t　Repzik　who　told　me　about　your　misfortune。　It　was　Kell。
Though　by　then　I　had　heard　about　it　from　other　sources　anyway。”
“Other　sources？　Who？”
The　Navy。　About　half　an　hour　ago　Sector　Command　forwarded　us　a　message　from　an　orbiting
troopship；　requesting　that　we　inform　the　Guard　company　they’d　just　dropped　that　this　planet　wasn’t
in　fact　Seltura　VII。　Apparently　they　forgot　to　tell　you　this；　what　with　all　the　excitement　of　the　drop
and　so　forth。　A　regrettable　oversight　caused　by　a　temporary　failure　in　the　lines　of　communication。
Those　were　their　exact　words　I　believe。　A　S。N。A。F。U。；　as　we　call　such　things　in　these　parts。”
“A　S。N。A。F。U。？”
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“Situation　Normal　All　Fouled　Up。　An　apt　and　well…used　acronym　here　in　Broucheroc。　Though
you　can　substitute　other　words　for　fouled　if　you　so　desire。”
“But　if　they　have　realised　their　mistake；　does　that　mean　I　am　being　reassigned？”　Larn　asked；　his
heart　grown　suddenly　hopeful。
“No；　new　fish。　Frankly；　the　fact　the　troopship　chose　to　relay　the　news　of　your　company’s
predicament　at　all　was　more　by　the　way　of　an　afterthought。　The　main　purpose　of　their　message　was
to　demand　to　know　what　the　hell　we　had　done　with　their　lander。　I　am　told　their　response　when　they
heard　the　lander　had　been　shot　down　and　would　not　be　returning　was　unrepeatable。　By　now；　they　are
likely　already　underway　again　and　far　from　this　planet。”
“So；　I　am　stuck　here；”　Larn　said　glumly。
“You　and　the　rest　of　us；　new　fish；”　Vladek　said；　bending　forward　to　delve　through　a　boxful　of
grey…black　coats　sitting　under　the　table。　“Now；　drink　your　recaf　and　we　will　see　about　getting　you
sorted。　A　new　greatcoat　in　urban　camouflage　pattern　would　seem　as　good　a　place　to　start　as　any。　It
will　help　you　blend　in　and　make　you　less　of　a　target；　not　to　mention　keeping　you　warm。　This　time　of
year　it’s　cold　enough　to　have　a　man　passing　ice　cubes　every　time　he　voids　his　bladder。　I　have　one
here　that　should　fit　you　perfectly；　give　or　take。　No　need　to　worry　too　much　about　the　blood　on　the
lapels。　I　am　sure　you　will　find　it　brushes　off　easily　enough　once　it　has　had　time　to　dry。”
Ten　minutes　later；　courtesy　of　Corporal　Vladek’s　scavenged　stores；　Larn　found　himself　the　new
owner　of　a　greatcoat；　a　pair　of　woollen　gloves；　two　frag　grenades；　a　fur…covered　helmet；　a　small
lump　of　whetstone；　and　a　comm…bead　tuned　to　the　local　comm…link　frequencies　used　by　the
Vardans。　Then；　as　Larn　finished　the　last　bitter　mouthful　of　ersatz　recaf　from　his　cup；　Vladek　asked
to　see　his　dog…tags　and　wrote　his　name　and　number　on　a　clipboard　beside　him。
“That　is　it　for　now；　new　fish；”　Vladek　said。　“You　will　need　to　come　back　here　and　see　me　again
in　fifteen　hours’　time。　Then　I　can　issue　you　with　some　of　the　more　valuable　and　sought…after　pieces
of　equipment：　hotshot　power　packs　for　your　lasgun；　extra　frag　grenades；　a　laspistol；　smoke　grenades；
and　so　on。”
“Why　fifteen　hours？”　Larn　asked。
“Phah。　You　will　learn　soon　enough　in　this　place　there　are　some　questions　it　is　better　not　to　ask；
new　fish。　That　is　one　of　them。　Just　come　see　me　again　in　fifteen　hours；　and　try　not　to　think　about　it
in　the　meantime。　Oh；　and　new　fish？　I　almost　forgot。　You　will　need　one　of　these！　”
Removing　a　slim　black　copy　of　The　Imperial　Infantryman’s　Uplifting　Primer　from　a　shelf
behind　him；　Vladek　offered　it　to　Larn　across　the　table。
“But　I　already　have　one；　corporal；”　Larn　said。　“I　was　issued　with　my　copy　of　the　Primer　on　my
first　day　of　basic　training　back　on　Jumael。”
“Congratulations；　new　fish；”　Vladek　said。　“Now；　you　have　two　copies。　You　will　need　them；　and
it　is　better　not　to　get　caught　short。　You　will　find　this　little　book　to　be　a　vital　tool　when　it　comes　to
the　nitty…gritty　of　day…to…day　living　here　in　Broucheroc。　The　paper　it　is　printed　on　is　most
absorbent。”
Handing　him　the　book　along　with　his　dog…tags；　Vladek　turned　to　the　hotplate　to　pour　another
steaming　cup　of　recaf。
“Anyent　for　you　to　be　getting　on　with；　new　fish；”　Vladek　said；
turning　back　towards　Larn　and　nodding　at　something　behind　him。　“Next；　we　should　see　about
getting　you　fixed　up　with　a　fireteam。　Fortunately　here　comes　our　company　commander；　right　on
cue。”
Seeing　a　figure　in　a　greatcoat　approaching　through　the　corner　of　his　eye；　Larn　stood　bolt　upright
from　his　chair　and　saluted　smartly。　Only　to　find　himself　facing　the　same　Vardan　sergeant　he　had
seen　lead　the　counterattack　against　the　orks　earlier。
“Why　is　there　a　new　fish　saluting　me；　Vladek？”　the　sergeant　said；　stepping　past　Larn　to　take　a
cup　of　recaf　from　the　corporal’s　hand。　“He　has　mistaken　me　for　a　general　perhaps？”
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“An　entirely　understandable　mistake　given　your　commanding　presence　and　natural　air　of
authority；　sergeant；”　Vladek　said；　smiling。　“Then　again；　I　had　just　told　him　you　are　our　company
commander。　Perhaps　he　thinks　that　makes　you　a　lieutenant。”
“A　lieutenant？　I　am　disappointed；　Vladek。　If　I　am　going　to　be　mistaken　for　an　officer；　I　thought　I
would　have　rated　colonel　at　least。”　Then；　the　merest　suggestion　of　a　smile　ghosting　at　his　lips；　the
sergeant　turned；　back　to　Larn。　“You　can　put　your　hand　down　by　the　way；　trooper。　Even　if　I　was　a
lieutenant；　we　don’t　hold　much　with　saluting　here。　It　only　gives　the　orks　something　extra　to　aim　at。　I
assume　you　have　a　name？　Other　than　new　fish　I　mean？”
“Trooper　First　Class　Larn；　Arvin　A；　reporting　for　duty；　sergeant！”　Larn　said；　his　hand　falling　but
his　back　still　ramrod　straight　as　he　stood　to　attention。　“Number：　eight　one　five　seven　six　dash—
“At　ease；　Larn；”　the　sergeant　told　him。　“Save　it　for　the　parade　ground。　As　I　say；　we　don’t　stand
much　on　ceremony　here。　All　right　then。　I　take　it　you　have　already　given　your　name　and　number　to
Corporal　Vladek　so　he　can　forward　them　to　General　HQ？”
“Yes；　sergeant。”
“Good。　It　may　be　that　HQ　will　order　you　reassigned　to　duties　elsewhere　in　the　city。　In　the
meantime　standing　orders　on　the　disposition　of　new　troops　are　clear。　You　were　dropped　into　our
sector：　that　means　you　belong　to　us。　You　are　hereby　seconded　to　the　902nd　Vardan　until　further
notice；　Larn。　Welcome　to　Company　Alpha。　My　name　is　Chelkar。　Until　you　are　assigned　elsewhere
or　HQ　gets　around　to　sending　us　a　new　lieutenant　you　will　be　taking　your　orders　from　me。　We　are
clear？”
“Clear；　sergeant。”
“How　long　since　you　took　the　eagle？”
“The　eagle；　sergeant？”
“I　mean：　how　long　is　it　since　you　were　inducted　into　the　Guard？”
“Four　months；　sergeant。”
“Four　months？　You　are　green　then？　You　haven’t　seen　much　action？”
“No。　Today　was　my　first　engagement；　sergeant。”
“Hmm。　Well；　you　survived　it　at　least。　I　suppose　that　shows　us　something。”　For　a　moment；　his
eyes　grown　suddenly　sad　and　distant；　Chelkar　fell　silent。　Certain　he　was　being　judged　somehow　by
that　silence；　Larn　felt　a　rising　urge　to　defend　his　worth。
“You　do　not　need　to　worry；　sergeant；”　he　said。　“I　will　not　let　anyone　down。　I　am　a　Guardsman。　I
will　do　my　duty。”
“I　am　sure　you　will；　Larn。”　Chelkar’s　expression　was　grave。　“But　remember；　part　of　that　duty　is
for　you　to　keep　yourself　alive　so　you　can　fight　again　tomorrow。　To　that　end；　you　will　do　the
following　things。　You　will　follow　orders。　You　will　keep　your　eyes　and　ears　open。　You　will　watch
your　comrades’　backs；　just　as　they　will　watch　yours。　But　most　of　all；　there　will　be　no　heroics。　No
fool…hardiness。　No　unnecessary　risks。　This　is　Broucheroc；　Larn。　There　are　no　heroes　here：　the　orks
keep　killing　them。　Do　we　understand　each　other？”
“Yes；　sergeant。”
“All　right　then；”　Chelkar　said；　before　turning　to　call　out　to　one　of　the　Guardsmen　standing　beside
the　stove。　“Davir。　Come　over　here　and　meet　our　new　recruit。”
In　response　to　Chelkar’s　call；　Larn　saw　a　stocky　diminutive　Vardan　move　away　from　the　stove
and　come　walking　towards　them。　With　a　sinking　heart；　he　recognised　him　at　once　as　the　same　ugly
dwarfish　Guardsman　who　had　given　him　his　lasgun　back　after　the　battle。
“Davir；　this　is　Larn。”
“We　have　met　already；　sergeant。　Hello；　new　fish。”
“Good；”　said　the　sergeant。　“Larn；　I　am　assigning　you　to　Fireteam　Three　under　Davir’s
command。”
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“With　all　due　respect；　sergeant；”　Davir　said；　“given　the　new　fish’s　lack　of　experience；　wouldn’t
it　be　better　to　assign　him　somewhere　else　until　he　finds　his　feet。　Fireteam　Three　is　a　frontline　unit；
after　all。”
“This　whole　company　is　a　frontline　unit；　Davir；”　Chelkar　said。　“If　you　can　think　of　anywhere　I
could　send　him　in　this　entire　sector　where　the　orks　wouldn’t　be　shooting　at　him；　I’d　be　glad　to　hear
of　it。　Besides；　your　fireteam　is　under　strength。　You　need　him　and　I　am　sure　I　can　rely　upon　you　to
look　after　him　and　show　him　the　ropes。”
“You　are　right　of　course；　sergeant；”　Davir　said；　grudgingly。　“Come　on　then；　new　fish。　Get　your
kit　and　follow　me。　We　have　orks　to　kill；　you　and　I。”
Turning；　Davir　strode　away　at　a　surprisingly　brisk　stride；　forcing　Larn　to　hurry　his　own　pace　to
catch　up。　Then；　as　Davir　walked　through　the　door　at　the　end　of　the　barracks　and　headed　up　the　steps
out　of　the　dugout；　from　behind　him　Larn　heard　the　Vardan　muttering　venomously　to　himself　under
his　breath。
“Need　him；”　he　heard　Davir　whisper　to　himself。　“Need　him；　my　Vardan　arse！　Like　I　need　to　be
nursemaiding　a　damn　new　fish。　As　though　having　had　to　spend　ten　years　in　the　company　of　that　fat
halfwit　Bulaven　wasn’t　bad　enough；　now　they’ve　gone　and　saddled　me　with　a　war　virgin　just　to　add
to　my　woes。　Damnation！”
Reaching　the　head　of　the　steps　to　emerge　into　the　cold　air　outside；　Davir　turned　to　give　Larn　a
withering　glare　as　he　waited　for　him　to　catch　up。
“Come　on；　new　fish。　I　haven’t　got　all　day。　Though　I　suppose　I　should　thank　the　heavens　for
small　mercies　that　you’ve　managed　to　negotiate　the　stairs　without　losing　your　lasgun　again。　Not　that
I　mean　that　as　an　invitation；　mind。　You　lose　that　damned　thing　again；　don’t　expect　me　to　go　finding
it　for　you。　You　want　to　go　around　confronting　orks　with　no　other　weapons　than　what　nature　gave
you；　next　time　you’re　on　your　own。　I’ll　leave　you　to　it。　Now；　come　on。　Let’s　get　moving　and　when
we’re　heading　for　the　trench；　keep　your　damned　fool　head　down。　Not　that　I’ve　got　any　qualms　about
seeing　the　orks　blow　your　head　off；　you　understand。　I　just　don’t　want　to　run　the　risk　of　the　damned
greenskins　missing　and　hitting　me　instead。”
So　it　went　on；　with　Davir　unleashing　a　constant　tirade　of　insults　and　complaints　as；　trailing　in　his
wake；　Larn　followed　him　up　the　low　rise　towards　the　firing　trenches　and　the　frontline。　As　they　ran
half…crouched　towards　their　destination　and　the　tirade　continued；　Larn　abruptly　found　himself　briefly
entertaining　a　notion　that　until　a　few　minutes　before　would　have　never　occurred　to　him。
Suddenly；　he　found　himself　feeling　strangely　nostalgic　for　the　good　old　days　of　Sergeant　Ferres。
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CHAPTER　EIGHT
14：59　hours　Central　Broucheroc　Time
Casualties　of　War　—　Thoughts　on　the　Killing　of　Generals　—　Scholarly　Answers　and　Insights　—　On
Vital　Supplies　&　The　Many　and　Varied　Uses　of　Prophylactics　—　The　Mathematics　of　Slaughter　&
Questions　of　Life　Expectancy　at　the　Front　—　The　Facts　of　Life　as　According　to　Davir
For　once；　the　printing　press　was　silent。　Though　Lieutenant　Delias　had　always　considered　the
constant　clattering　of　the　machine　to　be　a　source　of　much…cursed　irritation；　now　it　was　idle　he　found
the　sound　of　its　silence　filled　him　with　dread。　Sitting　at　his　desk　in　the　claustrophobic　confines　of　his
cluttered　office；　he　looked　across　the　fractured　glass　of　the　top　half　of　the　partition　wall　separating
him　from　the　print　room　and　felt　his　stomach　churn　in　anxiety　as　he　watched　the　militia　auxiliaries
who　made　up　his　staff　go　about　their　labours。　The　aged　caretakers　Cern　and　Votank　were　busy
maintaining　the　ancient　parts　of　the　press　itself：　Cern　oiling　the　machine’s　rollers；　while　Votank
topped　up　the　ink　reservoir　ready　for　the　next　edition。　Nearby；　head　bobbing　and　his　face　moving　in
involuntary　tics；　the　feeble…minded　cripple　Shulen　stumbled　past　them　with　a　broom　flailing
spasmodically　in　his　hands　as　he　attempted　to　sweep　the　floor。　Only　the　compositor　Pheran　was
without　a　task。　His　features　pinched　in　an　expression　somewhere　between　expectancy　and
annoyance；　he　stood　beside　the　empty　expanse　of　the　typesetting　board　and　gazed　back　towards
Delias　through　the　glass。　Then；　seeing　he　had　met　the　lieutenant’s　eyes；　Pheran　raised　a　hand　to
point　at　the　chronometer　hanging　above　the　printing　press　in　a　gesture　of　mute　accusation。
1500　hours；　Delias　thought；　his　heart　sinking　as　his　eyes　followed　the　direction　of　Pheran’s　bony
finger　to　glance　at　the　chronometer。　We　only　have　an　hour　now　before　I　have　to　deliver　the　late
edition　to　Commissar　Valkfor　approval。　A　single　hour！　I　must　find　something　to　write。　Anything！
Despairing；　Delias　returned　his　attention　to　the　dozens　of　official　papers　piled　in　confusion
across　his　desk。　Among　the　jumbled　mass　of　documents　before　him　were　copies　of　situation　reports；
battlefield　dispatches；　casually　statistics；　terse　communiqués；　comms　transcripts：　between　them
comprising　a　record　of　every　event　of　consequence　that　had　happened　in　the　city　of　Broucheroc　in
the　past　twelve　hours。　Despite　what　seemed　like　hours　now　spent　surveying　the　assembled　weight　of
information　before　him；　Delias　had　found　nothing　there　to　suit　his　purpose。
There　is　no　good　news　to　report；　he　thought　bleakly。　Today；　the　same　as