Death World(科幻战争)-第11部分

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or；　more　accurately；　to　come　into　focus—in　front　of　his　eyes。　The　shape　resolved　itself　into　a　cluster
of　thistles。　Thistles　that　had　always　been　there；　the　rest；　Lorenzo　had　imagined。　He　started　as　Storm
shot　the　thistles　anyway；　and　fired　into　the　surrounding　undergrowth　a　few　times　for　good　measure。
“In　case　this　thing　is　a　shape…shifter；”　he　explained。　But　he　disturbed　nothing　more　than　a　few　black
insects；　which　smelt　the　flower　sap　on　the　Jungle　Fighters　and　buzzed　away。
The　whole　squad　was　on　the　alert　after　that；　on　edge。　Lorenzo　had　to　force　himself　not　to　jump　at
every　shadow　he　saw；　every　distant　sound　that　came　to　his　ears。　He　thought　about　what　Greiss　had
said；　about　losing　trust　in　their　own　senses。　The　others　hadn’t　seemed　too　worried；　probably　didn’t
believe　it　could　happen　to　them；　but　he　remembered　the　blue　light。　He　remembered　how　real　its　lies
had　seemed。
Landon　had　approached　Greiss；　and　Lorenzo　was　just　close　enough　for　his　keen　ears　to　pick　up
their　hushed　conversation。　“I’ve　had　an　idea；　sergeant；”　said　the　rookie。　“Why　don’t　I　hide　in　a　tree
and　let　the　rest　of　you　go　on　a　way？　If　we　are　being　followed；　I’ll　soon　find　out。”
“I　don’t　know；”　said　Greiss。　“We’re　talking　about　someone　or　something　that’s　given　Sly　Marbo
the　slip—and　that　isn’t　easy。”
“Maybe　he　knew　Marbo　was　around。　Maybe　he　heard　us　talking　about　him。　I’m　the　smallest　of
us；　sergeant；　the　one　he’s　least　likely　to　miss　if　he　is　watching　us。　The　rest　of　you　could　gather
around；　block　his　view　for　a　second；　and　I’ll　be　gone。　Next　time　our　‘ghost’　sees　me；　he’ll　be
passing　right　under　me；　and　I’ll　raise　the　alarm。”
Greiss　raised　a　cynical　eyebrow。　“That　a　promise？　Swear　on　your　blade？　Because　you’ve　been
pushing　yourself　forward　today；　Landon—and　that’s　good；　don’t　get　me　wrong；　we’ll　make　a　fine
soldier　of　you；　maybe　even　a　sergeant　one　day—but　this　isn’t　the　time　for　grandstanding；　hoping　to
hog　some　glory　for　yourself。”
“Soon　as　I　see　a　thing；”　Landon　promised；　“I’ll　yell　my　lungs　out。”
Greiss　considered　the　proposal；　and　finally　nodded。　By　the　time　he　passed　it　on　to　the　rest　of　the
squad；　however；　two　men　at　a　time；　in　a　quiet　growl；　he’d　made　a　few　alterations。　He　approached
Mackenzie　last—but　by　this　time；　the　commissar　had　heard　what　was　afoot。　“If　you’re　asking　for　my
permission　to　proceed；　Greiss；”　he　remarked　acidly；　“then　consider　it　granted。”
A　short　time　later；　they　came　to　a　mournful…looking　tree　with　branches　that　sagged　almost　to
ground　level；　dripping　with　water…bearing　vines。　It　was　almost　too　perfect。
They　gathered　round　and　set　to　work　with　their　knives；　teasing　out　what　liquid　they　could。
Lorenzo　stopped　Braxton　from　putting　his　thirsty　lips　directly　to　a　vine；　pointing　out　that　the　skin
was　probably　poisonous。
After　a　few　minutes　of　this；　Landon　worked　his　way　to　the　centre　of　the　group；　and　was　handed　a
lasgun　by　Donovits　to　replace　the　one　he　had　lost　in　the　river。　He　stepped　onto　Muldoon’s　cupped
hands　and　was　hoisted　onto　the　tree’s　lowest　branch；　his　camouflage　uniform　and　dubbin…streaked
face　immediately　lost　among　its　leaves。　Lorenzo　heard　the　faintest　of　rustles　above　his　head　as　the
rookie　climbed　higher；　and　he　resisted　the　urge　to　look　up。
“Right；　men；”　announced　Greiss；　in　what　was　maybe　a　slighter　louder　voice　than　usual；　for　the
benefit　of　any　eavesdroppers；　“time　we　made　a　move。　We’ve　still　got　lost　time　to　make　up。”
As　the　squad　set　off　again；　the　Jungle　Fighters　spread　out　more　widely　than　they　would　normally
have　done；　yet　contrived　to　cross　each　other’s　paths　frequently。　An　observer　would　have　been　hardpressed
even　to　count　them；　let　alone　to　work　out　which　of　them　might　be　missing。　They　also　moved
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more　slowly　than　before—because；　although　nobody　said　anything；　each　of　them　was　reluctant　to
leave　his　inexperienced　comrade　too　far　behind。　Indeed；　the　further　they　strayed　from　Landon’s
position；　the　slower；　the　more　reticent；　their　steps　became—and　Lorenzo　noticed　a　certain　amount　of
jostling　for　the　rearmost　position；　the　man　who　would　be　able　to　respond　first　to　the　alarm　call　when
it　came。　Woods；　of　course；　came　out　on　top。
Lorenzo　had　been　counting　out　a　minute　in　his　head。　As　he　reached　sixty；　Greiss　gave　a　nod；　and
Muldoon　disappeared　into　a　bush。　Myers　provided　a　distraction；　this　time；　by　yelling　“jungle
lizard！”　and　firing　into　the　undergrowth　before　professing；　with　mock　sheepishness；　to　have　been
mistaken。
They　proceeded　at　length；　expecting　Trooper　Landon　to　reappear　before　too　long；　at　which　point
somebody　else　would　slip　into　hiding。　After　twenty　seconds　had　passed；　though；　Lorenzo　saw　that
Greiss　was　getting　worried。　Another　five；　and　he　came　to　a　halt；　and　drew　breath　to　give　the
prearranged　signal　that　would　call　off　the　operation。
That　was　when　Landon　yelled　out；　at　last。
Only　this　wasn’t　a　yell　of　discovery。　It　was　a　yell　of　fear。
Lorenzo　was　running　before　the　echoes　had　subsided。　They　had　come　too　far；　because　Landon
was　still　all　the　way　back　where　they　had　left　him；　and　Lorenzo　was　pushing　his　muscles　as　hard　as
he　could；　willing　himself　forward；　and　yet　still　the　path　to　his　comrade　seemed　to　stretch　a　nearinfinite
distance。　He　concentrated　on　what　he　could　do：　pumping　his　legs；　faster　than　he　could　think；
so　fast　that　he　was　sure　only　sheer　force　of　will　kept　him　from　falling。　There　were　sounds　ahead—
ugly　sounds；　full　of　foreboding—but　they　were　almost　drowned　out　by　his　heartbeat；　by　the　crashing
footsteps　of　comrades　around　him　and　of　Woods　in　front。
Every　second　counted。　Every　fraction　of　a　second。
And　there　weren’t　enough　of　them。
Landon　yelled　again：　a　terrible　gurgling　scream；　which　was　cut　off　in　mid…flow　and　could　only
have　meant　one　thing。
He　came　into　sight　at　last；　limp　and　no　longer　straggling　in　the　grip　of　a　figure　that　was
humanoid　in　shape　but　a　mockery　of　a　human　in　its　aspect。
The　monster　was　caked　in　dirt；　centimetres　thick；　and　it　bristled　with　grass；　dead　leaves；　living
flowers　and　the　severed　roots　of　larger　plants　as　if　a　whole　section　of　the　planet　had　been　scooped　up
and　wrapped　around　its　frame。　Lorenzo　thought　the　monster　was　flora；　at　first；　but　he　could　make
out　patches　of　suntanned　skin；　and　human　fingers　around　Landon’s　neck。　Woods　had　already
charged　it；　a　lasgun　fanfare　presaging　his　arrival。
Lorenzo　had　brought　up　his　weapon　but　hadn’t　fired；　fearful　of　hitting　the　monster’s　captive—
but　Woods　had　seen　what　he　hadn’t；　or　rather　accepted　what　he　didn’t　want　to　accept。
It　must　have　waited　for　Landon；　he　realised。　It　was　right　under　the　tree　in　which　the　Guardsman
had　concealed　himself—but　he　wouldn’t　have　come　down　from　there　unless　he　was　sure　it　was　safe。
The　monster　had　discovered　the　Jungle　Fighters’　trap；　and　set　its　own　in　return。
As　Woods　hit　the　monster；　it　dropped　Landon；　and　he　fell　to　the　ground；　his　head　coming　to　rest
at　an　acute　angle　to　his　body。　Lorenzo　was　halfway　to　him　when　he　realised　there　was　no　point。　He
changed　course　and　leapt　at　the　monster　instead；　along　with　Myers　and　Storm；　whose　howl　of　rage
echoed　in　Lorenzo’s　ears。　Woods　could　probably　have　handled　the　monster　on　his　own—and　he
would　have　enjoyed　bragging　about　it　later—but　Lorenzo　wasn’t　thinking　about　that　right　now。　He
was　thinking　about　Landon。
The　monster；　it　turned　out；　was　stronger　than　they　had　expected。　It　dislodged　Woods　and　Myers；
and　sent　them　flying　with　a　sweep　of　its　arm。　As　the　two　troopers　fell；　however；　Muldoon　and　Greiss
appeared　in　their　places。　The　monster　was　borne　down　under　the　combined　weight　of　four
Catachans；　but　showed　no　sign　of　slowing　or　weakening　as　they　pounded　at　it　with　their　fists。
Lorenzo　drew　his　fang；　and　plunged　it　into　the　monster’s　heart　with　a　snarl；　but　the　blade　came　out
encrusted　with　muck　and　no　blood；　and　still　the　monster　fought　on。
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It　shifted　beneath　his　knees；　and　he　realised　with　a　start　that　it　was　sinking…　as　if　the　monster　lay
in　quicksand；　though　the　earth　around　it　felt　as　hard　as　it　ever　had　to　the　touch　of　Lorenzo’s　foot。　He
was　scrabbling　at　the　monster；　desperate　to　stop　it；　to　hold　it　here；　because　all　he　could　think　was
that　it　was　getting　away—it　had　killed　Landon　and　it　was　getting　away—but　the　pull　of　the　earth
was　inexorable；　and　the　monster　was　gone；　leaving　Lorenzo　with　only　two　handfuls　of　mud　and　an
empty　feeling　in　his　heart。
He　staggered　to　his　feet；　and　stepped　back　from　where　the　monster　had　been；　from　the　spot
where　the　jungle　grass　still　grew　as　if　it　had　never　been　disturbed—and　he　looked　at　Greiss；　with
bewilderment　in　his　eyes；　as　he　realised　that　the　sergeant　had　claimed　a　souvenir；　wrenched　it　free
from　the　monster’s　mass　even　as　it　went　under。　He　was　just　staring　at　it；　the　first　time　Lorenzo　had
seen　him　speechless；　as　the　rest　of　the　Jungle　Fighters　gathered　round。
Greiss　held　up　his　find；　and　one　by　one　they　realised　what　it　was；　and　then　they　had　no　words
either。
It　was　a　bionic　leg。
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CHAPTER　TEN
Lorenzo　couldn’t　sleep。
This　was　highly　unusual—at　least　when　he　was　planetside；　out　in　the　jungle。
They　had　set　up　camp　before　the　sun　had　gone　down。　They　were　resting　in　preparation　for　their
passage　by　the　ork　encampment—a　trial　in　which　the　night　would　be　their　ally。　Lorenzo　could　feel
the　distant　sun　on　his　face；　and　its　red　glow　penetrated　his　eyelids—but　he　was　used　to　that。　He　was
used　to　making　the　best　of　sleep　whenever；　wherever　and　for　however　long　he　could　grab　it。　It
wasn’t　just　the　sunlight　that　kept　him　awake。
Nor　was　it　just　the　death　of　a　trooper　he　had　hardly　known；　to　whom　he　didn’t　remember　saying
a　word；　a　young　man　who　could　have　become　a　good　comrade；　even　a　hero；　had　he　lived　to　earn　his
name。
The　monster—Lorenzo　couldn’t　think　of　it　as　Dougan—could　sink　into　the　ground；　and　rise
from　it　as　silently。
Little　wonder；　then；　it　had　proved　so　elusive　so　far。　Little　wonder　Landon　hadn’t　seen　it　coming。
Lorenzo　was　feeling　the　same　discomfort；　the　same　restless　itch；　as　he　had　on　the　carrier　ship。
That　creeping　realisation　that　the　world　around　him　didn’t　bow　to　the　edicts　of　nature；　to　the
physical　laws　he　had　thought　inviolable。　The　feeling　that　nothing　made　much　sense　anymore。
“It　couldn’t　have　been　Steel　Toe；”　Woods　had　insisted；　in　the　aftermath　of　the　brief　fight　with
the　monster；　manifestly　ignoring　the　proof　that　had　been　there　for　all　to　see；　in　Greiss’　hand。　“I　don’t
care　what　happened　to　him；　what　this　planet　did　to　him；　he　wouldn’t　have…　He　wouldn’t　have。　Not
Steel　Toe。”
“Sorry；　Hotshot。”　Greiss　had　said　gloomily；　“we　have　to　face　facts。　I’d　recognise　this　hunk　o’
metal　anywhere。　See　under　the　dirt　here？　Scorch　marks　from　where　Steel　Toe　was　bitten　by　that
critter　on　Vortis。　It　shorted　the　circuits；　sent　a　lethal　shock　across　its　own　mandibles。　Steel　Toe
couldn’t　walk　for　a　fortnight；　till　we　got　the　leg　fixed；　but　he　saved　our　bacon　that　day。”
“It　wasn’t　him；”　said　Donovits　firmly。　“It　may　have　been　his　body；　but　it　wasn’t　Steel　Toe。　He’s
dead！”
Myers　had　rubbed　his　chin　where　the　mud…encrusted　monster　had　hit　him。　“Well；　he　was　sure
taking　a　long　time　to　lie　down。”
“Brains　is　right；”　said　Muldoon。　“What　we　just　fought　wasn’t　Steel　Toe。　It　wasn’t　alive。　It　was
some　kind　of　a　zombie。　I　looked　into　its　eyes—and　I’m　telling　you；　Steel　Toe　wasn’t　in　there。”
Greiss；　as　usual；　had　turned　the　topic　to　the　future；　to　what　they　did　next；　not　letting　his　troopers
dwell　on　what　they　couldn’t　explain。　“Right；　men；”　he　had　announced；　“that　means　we　have　a
problem。”
“I　can’t　see　that　thing　coming　back；　sergeant；”　said　Myers；　“not　minus　its　leg。”
“Not　what　I　meant；　Bullseye。　There’s　something　on　this　planet　can　bring　the　dead　back　to　life。”
“Not　exactly　bring　them　back。”　Donovits　had　corrected　him；　“just　reanimate　them。　Without
getting　a　closer　look　at　Steel　Toe’s　body；　I　couldn’t　tell　you　if　it　was　host　to　some　parasite；　or…”
He’d　tailed　off　as　he　had　followed　Greiss’　gaze。
They’d　all　looked　down　at　Landon’s　body。
Lorenzo　let　out　a　sigh；　now；　and　rolled　onto　his　back；　accepting　that　he　was　awake　for　the
duration—until　he　could　calm　the　raging　thoughts　that　filled　his　head　to　bursting。　He　listened　to
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Myers；　who　was　on　watch；　humming　a　quiet　tune　as　he　cleaned　his　knife。　He　stared；　almost
sightlessly；　at　the　plastic　sheeting　that　Muldoon　and　Donovits　had　tied　around　the　leafiest　branches
of　the　surrounding　trees；　collecting　condensation　for　the　squad’s　water　bottles。　He　listened　to
Braxton’s　breathing；　beside　him；　and　he　knew　the　Validian　was　awake　too。
Rogar　III　was　winning。　It　was　beating　them—and　the　fact　that　it　could　only　do　so　by　changing
the　rules　was　cold　comfort　to　Lorenzo。
He　had　wanted　a　challenge。　He　had　wanted　to　earn　his　name。　But　his　squad　was　already　two　men
down；　and　they　hadn’t　seen　a　single　ork　yet。　There　would　be　more　casualties；　of　that；　he　was　certain。
More　chances　to　prove　himself。　Or　die　trying。　Not　that　Lorenzo　was　afraid　of　death；　but　he　thought
about　the　rest　of　his　company；　by　now　no　doubt　engaged　in　fierce　battle。　He　wondered　if　they　had
scratched　the　surface　of　Rogar　yet；　if　they’d　learned　its　secrets—or　if　the　planet　was　concentrating
its　forces　on　this　one　small　squad；　the　twelve　men　who　had　dared　try　to　penetrate　its　dark　heart。　Ten
men；　now。　He　wondered　what　those　fellow　Jungle　Fighters　would　think；　upon　completing　their
missions；　if　they　found　their　bravery　had　all　been　for　nothing—if　there　was　no　word　from　the　squad
that　had　been　entrusted　with　the　most　important　assignment。
No；　Lorenzo　wasn’t　afraid　of　death。　But　he　was　afraid　of　failure。　And　of　going　to　an　unmarked
grave；　with　no　one　left　to　remember　his　name　or　to　tell　of　his　heroism　at　the　end。
They　hadn’t　been　able　to　cremate　Landon。　They　were　too　close　to　the　orks　now　to　risk　lighting　a
fire。　Myers　had　expressed　the　dubious　hope　that　their　fallen　comrade’s　broken　neck　might　prevent
his　resurrection　by　the　force　that　had　animated　Dougan。　But　Donovits　had　just　shaken　his　head。
Greiss　had　done　the　deed　himself；　in　the　end。　He　hadn’t　let　anyone　else　help；　he’d　roared　at
Woods　when　he’d　tried　to　ignore　that　order。　He　had　told　them　to　remember　Landon　as　he　was　in　life。
Still；　Lorenzo　couldn’t　shake　the　image　from　his　thoughts：　Old　Hardhead；　driving　the　butt　of　his
lasgun　down　into　the　dead　rookie’s　arms　and　legs；　over　and　over　again。　Until　his　body　was　no　more
than　a　fleshy　sack　for　the　fragments　of　his　shattered　bones。　Until　no　force　in　the　Imperium　or　beyond
could　have　made　Landon’s　limbs　support　his　weight。
The　sound　of　a　shovel　striking　the　earth　had　seemed　to　repeat　forever。　Greiss　had　reappeared；　at
last；　with　his　face　dirt…streaked　and　red。　He　had　reported；　in　a　hollow　tone；　that　it　was　over；　that
Landon　could　rest　in　peace。
Lorenzo　drifted　into　a　fitful　doze；　haunted　by　nightmares　in　which　he　was　fighting　his　own
comrades；　and　the　bony　hands　of　Dougan　and　Landon　were　grasping　at　his　ankles；　trying　to　pull　him
down　into　the　earth　to　join　them。
He　could　hear　low　voices。
He　opened　his　eyes；　catching　his　breath　at　a　lingering　vestige　of　some　dream　horror　already
fading　in　his　memory。　The　night　had　swooped　in　when　he　hadn’t　been　looking。　It　was　dark；　and　the
huddled　shapes　around　him　were　stirring；　preparing。　It　was　time；　already。
He　scrambled　to　his　feet；　still　unsettled　by　the　dream　but　trying　not　to　show　it。　He　pulled　on　his
jacket　and　bandolier；　checked　his　pack。　Few　words　were　spoken；　the　Jungle　Fighters　all
concentrating　on　what　lay　ahead　of　them；　knowing　its　import。　Mackenzie　and　Braxton　looked
especially　tired；　and　Lorenzo　realised　that　each　must　have　slept　only　half　the　short　rest　period。
Neither　had　been　placed　on　the　watch　rota；　but　the　commissar　probably　hadn’t　dared　close　his　eyes
without　his　adjutant　to　look　out　for　him。　He　didn’t　trust　anybody　else。
Lorenzo　hadn’t　been　placed　on　watch　either。　A　part　of　him　wondered　if　it　was　because　Greiss
didn’t　trust　him。　Despite　his　pretence　to　the　contrary。　Because　of　last　night。　The　sergeant’s　briefing
soon　quelled　that　fear；　though。
Greiss　spoke　quietly　and　didn’t　say　much。　Sounds　carried　further　at　night。　Anyway；　the
Catachans　knew　what　was　expected　of　them；　and　Mackenzie　and　Braxton　would　just　have　to　follow
their　lead。　He　reminded　the　squad　of　the　importance　of　stealth：　“One　ork　or　gretchin　gets　sight　or
sound　of　us　and　lives　to　tell　of　it；　and　we’ve　not　only　blown　our　mission；　we　won’t　be　around　to
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explain　to　Colonel　Graves　what　the　hell　we　thought　we　were　doing。”　Then　he　made　the
pronouncement　that　caused　Lorenzo’s　heart　to　leap。
“Lorenzo　takes　point；”　said　Greiss。　“That’s　because　we　might　have　more　to　contend　with　than
just　greenskins。　Remember；　people；　those　blue　lights　come　out　at　night。　I　want　you　to　pair　up；　keep
an　eye　on　your　opposite　number—first　sign　he　shows　of　going　misty…eyed；　you　give　him　a　slap。
Lorenzo；　I’m　trusting　you　upfront　alone　because　you’ve　shaken　off　the　effects　of　the　light　once。　If　it
comes　back；　you　can　resist　it；　right？”
“Right；　sergeant。”
Greiss　outlined　their　proposed　route；　and　Lorenzo　felt　a　swell　of　pride　when　he　turned　to　him　in
particular　and　asked　if　he　was　clear　on　it。　He　confirmed　that　he　was；　and　Greiss　drew　him　to　one
side；　and　clapped　him　on　the　back。　“I　know　I　don’t　have　to　tell　you　to　go　slow　and　careful。　Hell；　if
you’re　as　quiet　out　there　as　you　are　around　us　half　the　time；　those　orks　will　never　hear　you　coming。”
Then　Greiss　gave　the　order　to　move　out；　and　Lorenzo　drew　his　Catachan　fang　and　slipped　into
the　jungle；　quickly　but　quietly；　staying　low；　in　cover。　He　used　his　lasgun　to　part　the　vines　and
creepers　in　his　way；　surveying　the　ground　for　predators　and　other　hazards。　He　advanced　cautiously；
doing　his　best　to　leave　no　trail。　The　foliage　yielded　to　his　soft　but　firm　touch；　but　closed　in　again
behind　him　until　he　felt　like　he　was　travelling　in　his　own　green　cocoon。　He　knew　his　comrades　were
behind　him；　but　all　he　could　hear　of　them　was　an　occasional　rustle　that　might　have　been　a　lizard　or　a
whisper　of　the　night　breeze。　They　were　keeping　their　distance；　in　case　Lorenzo　made　a　misstep；　set
off　an　ork　trap　and　blew　himself　to　pieces。　He　was　alone　now；　to　all　intents　and　purposes。　In　the
most　dangerous　position；　but　that　was　alright。　He　wanted　that　responsibility。
The　danger　focused　Lorenzo’s　mind。　It　sharpened　his　senses。　It　blew　away　the　doubts　of　a　few
hours　earlier；　like　a　strong；　fresh　wind。
He　maintained　a　good　pace　for　the　first　hour　or　so；　but　slowed　when　he　knew　the　encampment　was
near。　He　saw　no　evidence　of　its　presence　yet；　but　he　fancied　he　detected　a　hint　of　greenskin　stink　on
the　air。　Something　stirred　in　a　bush　beside　him；　and　Lorenzo　froze；　hoping　his　camouflage　would
hide　him—but　it　was　only　a　snake。　One　of　those　with　the　silver　triangles　on　their　skins。
He　crept　on—but；　a　few　minutes　later；　he　spotted　another　triangle…backed　snake　in　the
undergrowth；　and　this　one　had　seen　him。　Its　head　reared　up。　It　bared　its　tiny　fangs　and　hissed；　but　it
made　no　move　to　strike　Lorenzo。　It　appeared　to　be　watching　him。
He　remembered　how　the　birds　had　stalked　the　Catachans；　how　he’d　kept　spying　them　out　of　the
corner　of　his　eye　before　they　launched　their　attack。　He　remembered　Braxton　saying　t