Death World(科幻战争)-第20部分

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thin　and　shallow　but　impassable　to　one　with　his　disability。　As　Big　Green　saw　Lorenzo；　his　eyes
widened　with　fear　and　hatred；　and　he　yelled　and　gesticulated　to　his　guard；　ordering　it　to　lay　itself
down　as　a　bridge　for　him。　The　ork　signalled　its　refusal　by　swiping　at　the　warboss’　neck　with　its　axe；
evidently；　loyalty　had　its　limits；　especially　when　an　ork　sensed　that　its　leader’s　day　was　done。
But　Big　Green　had　earned　his　position　for　a　reason。　Some　warbosses　had　been　known　to　go　toe
to　toe　with　Space　Marines。　Displaying　the　same　lightning　reflexes　with　which　he’d　met　the　Jungle
Fighters’　first　attack　upon　him；　the　warboss　caught　the　axe’s　blade　between　both　hands；　a　centimetre
from　his　slavering　sneer；　and　twisted　the　weapon　right　out　of　his　startled　guard’s　hands。
Lorenzo　was　firing　frantically—but　like　the　orks；　he　found　his　shots　knocked　astray；　the　warboss
had　his　traitor　guard　by　the　neck；　had　wrenched　its　arm　up　behind　its　back；　and　was　pushing　it　down；
and　it　looked　like　he　was　about　to　get　his　bridge　after　all；　so　Lorenzo　sprang　for　the　warboss’　back。
He　timed　his　leap　just　right；　to　benefit　from　an　upsurge　beneath　his　feet；　Big　Green　whipped
around　and　swung　his　giant　axe；　but　Lorenzo　was　higher　than　he　could　have　expected；　and　the　blade
passed　beneath　his　feet—and　then　he　was　on　the　warboss’　shoulders；　and　he　plunged　his　knife　into
the　ork’s　eye　and　tried　to　work　its　point　up　into　his　brain。
Big　Green　howled　and　threw　back　his　arms；　trying　to　swat　the　Jungle　Fighter　from　his　back。
Lorenzo　held　on　as　long　as　he　could；　but　between　the　warboss　and　the　quake　it　was　like　trying　to
straddle　three　grox　at　once。　He　pulled　his　knife　free　and　jumped　before　he　could　be　thrown；　landing
nimbly　on　his　feet。
He　parried　an　axe　thrust　with　his　knife；　and　simultaneously　kicked　out　at　the　warboss’　injured
leg；　making　him　howl　again。　But　Big　Green　didn’t　fall。　He　barely　even　flinched—and　Lorenzo　had
been　counting　on　at　least　a　momentary　respite　to　drop　back　into　a　defensive　position。　The　axe　blade
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whistled　toward　him　again；　and　the　flat　of　its　blade　struck　a　resounding　blow　against　his　wrist；
splintering　bones；　and　his　knife　flew　out　of　his　grasp。
It　was　spinning　towards　the　lava；　and　Lorenzo　leapt　after　it　without　thinking；　dropping　his
lasgun；　catching　the　knife　with　his　off…hand　in　midair；　twisting　to　avoid　a　scalding　death　himself。　He
landed　on　his　back；　winded　as　the　ground　rose　up　to　meet　him。　The　warboss　lunged；　and　Lorenzo
barely　brought　up　a　foot　in　time；　tried　to　kick　the　warboss　away；　but　the　ork　batted　it　aside。　Then　he
was　on　Lorenzo；　the　sharp　points　of　his　tusks　almost　touching　the　Catachan’s　face；　dripping　drool
onto　his　cheek　and　blood　from　his　punctured　eye；　and　Big　Green’s　axe　haft　was　pressed　down　across
Lorenzo’s　throat；　crushing　his　windpipe。
All　Lorenzo　could　do　was　take　that　haft　himself；　try　to　force　it　upwards；　away　from　him；　but　the
warboss　was　too　strong；　and　he　could　feel　the　breath　being　choked　out　of　him。　His　lungs　were
empty；　burning；　and　his　head　felt　light。　He　held　on；　because　every　fraction　of　a　second　he　could　keep
Big　Green　here　dealing　with　him　was　a　further　delay　to　the　warboss’　escape。　Lorenzo　may　have
failed　to　kill　this　monster；　but　he　could　be　the　hero　who　engaged　it　in　single　combat；　kept　it　trapped
long　enough　for　the　earthquake　to　finish　it。　A　forlorn　hope；　he　realised。
Then；　suddenly；　the　pressure　on　his　throat　was　released；　and　Lorenzo　tried　to　see　what　was
happening；　but　without　him　knowing　it　his　eyes　had　closed　and　he　couldn’t　open　them　because　they
were　prickling　with　tears　and　his　entire　body　was　preoccupied　with　just　trying　to　breathe。　His
stomach　convulsed　as　he　heaved　in　air；　and　spluttered　on　its　gritty　texture。
By　the　time　he　could　look　again；　he　knew　what　he　would　see：　Sergeant　Greiss；　wrestling　with
the　warboss。　Greiss　had　landed　a　few　good　blows；　too—the　warboss　had　a　livid　scar　on　his　cheek　to
add　to　the　one　Lorenzo　had　left　across　his　eye。　But　he　was　fighting　on；　as　if　nothing　would　ever　stop
him。
Lorenzo’s　legs　were　too　weak　to　stand；　so　he　contented　himself　with　hitting　his　opponent　low；
the　combination　of　his　efforts　and　Greiss’；　and　Big　Green’s　missing　foot；　flooring　the　big　ork　again。
They　piled　on　top　of　him；　fists　and　knives　flying；　but　they　couldn’t　still　his　axe—and　its　blade
swung　and　impacted　with　Greiss’　head；　cleaving　his　miner’s　helmet　in　two；　cutting　into　his　scalp
and；　with　a　resounding　clang；　hitting　the　metal　plate　just　below　the　surface。　Greiss　fell　back；　blood
matting　his　grey　hair　as　Lorenzo　used　the　momentum　of　the　warboss’　swing　against　him；　and　with　a
tremendous；　last…ditch　heave；　tipped　and　rolled　him　into　one　of　the　narrow　streams。　The　ork　leader
was　facedown　in　the　lava　but　still　thrashing；　and　Lorenzo　placed　his　good　hand　on　the　back　of　the
warboss’　head　and；　releasing　a　strangulated　roar　of　utter　hatred　from　the　back　of　his　throat。　He
pushed　down…
Then　he　was　scrambling　towards　Greiss；　though　he　didn’t　know　what　he　could　do　for　him。　The
sergeant　was　bleeding　freely；　but　all　Lorenzo　could　see　in　his　face　was　a　malicious　satisfaction　at　the
death　of　an　enemy。　And　maybe；　when　he　looked　at　Lorenzo；　a　hint　of　approval？
Then；　a　sudden　change　of　expression—a　warning　glint　in　Greiss’　eyes。　Lorenzo　whirled　around
and　the　warboss　was　standing；　molten　lava　streaming　from　his　face；　most　of　the　skin　burnt　away；　but
he　was　coming　at　them　again…
Greiss　was　firing　at　him；　pumping　las…round　after　las…round　into　the　warboss’　chest；　and　Lorenzo
didn’t　think　it　would　be　enough—but　then　there　was　las…fire　from　behind　Big　Green　too；　and　a
bedraggled；　soot…blackened　figure　emerged　through　a　haze　of　dust—and　even　as　the　ork　leader
reached　his　targets；　as　he　made　to　bring　his　axe　down；　it　was　one　of　Guardsman　Braxton’s　rounds
that　finally　sizzled　through　his　skull　and　put　out　the　feral　light　in　those　eyes　once　and　for　all。
Lorenzo　had　thought　he’d　feel　different　when　the　ork　leader　died　at　last。　Lie　had　expected　to
feel…　something。　Relieved；　perhaps。　Or　dismayed；　that　another　man　had　delivered　the　killing　blow。
Somehow；　he　had　thought　mere　would　be　silence；　and　time　to　reflect—but　as　another　great　chunk　of
rock　was　dislodged　from　the　cavern　roof　to　thunk　into　the　ground　beside　him；　he　knew　it　was　not　to
be。
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Braxton　helped　Lorenzo　to　his　feet；　and　they　both　turned　to　give　Greiss　a　lift；　but　the　grizzled
sergeant　waved　them　away　stubbornly。　“We’ve　got　to　get　out　of　here；　sergeant；”　insisted　Braxton　as
Lorenzo　retrieved　his　gun　and　slapped　a　new　pack　into　position。　“This　place　won’t　hold　up　much
longer。　Most　of　the　orks　have　already　run　for　it。　Where’s　Patch？”
Lorenzo　shook　his　head。　“Bullseye　and　Wildman？”
“Dead；”　said　Greiss；　flatly。　“Me　and　Braxton；　we　stumbled　across　their　bodies　on　our　way　in。
Looks　like　they　found　Big　Green　before　we　did；　more’s　the　pity。”
“I’m　sure　they　put　up　a　good　fight；”　said　Lorenzo；　almost　automatically。　“I’m　sure　if　it　hadn’t
been　for　them；　if　they　hadn’t　weakened—”
“Time　enough　for　eulogies　later；”　growled　Greiss。　“Looked　like　the　greenskins　were　mostly
headed　back　up　to　the　clearing；　but　we　found　another　way　out。”　He　nodded　in　the　direction　from
which　he　and　Braxton　had　appeared。　“We　take　that；　chances　are　we’ll　run　into　less　opposition　along
the　way。　That　is；　if　the　whole　tunnel　hasn’t　collapsed　by　now。”
“Let　me　lead　the　way；”　said　Lorenzo。
Greiss　snarled。　“Like　hell！　In　case　you　hadn’t　noticed；　trooper；　I　am　not　dead　yet—and　I’m　still
in　charge　of　this　squad；　what’s　left　of　it。”
“That’s　not　what　I　meant；　sergeant。　I’ve　been　having　a…　a…　I　don’t　know　how　to　describe　it；
some　kind　of　an　instinct　about　the　quake。　Like　I　know　how　the　earth’s　going　to　move；　where　it’s
safe　to　step；　where…”　Lorenzo　tailed　off；　embarrassed　at　how　implausible　the　words　sounded　out
loud。
But　Greiss　just　regarded　him　coolly　for　a　moment；　then　nodded　and　grunted；　“Step　to　it；　then。”
Lorenzo　set　off　sure…footedly；　affecting　confidence　while　inwardly　he　half…expected　his　luck　to
run　out　at　any　moment。　Then；　there　it　was　again：　that　indefinable　feeling；　that　tug　in　a　certain
direction。　Greiss　indicated　a　tunnel　mouth　ahead　of　them；　but　Lorenzo　balked　at　a　direct　approach；
and　picked　out　a　circuitous　path　towards　their　goal　instead。　His　caution　was　rewarded　as　a　lava
stream　bubbled　and　spat　its　contents　straight　up　like　a　geyser。
The　Jungle　Fighters　hugged　the　wall；　keeping　just　out　of　range　of　burning　droplets；　until　they
reached　the　tunnel　and　stumbled　gratefully　into　its　stale　but　cooler　embrace。　After　that；　their
progress　was　a　little　easier；　because　there　were　no　lava　streams　up　here　and　because　they　could　lean
on　the　walls　for　support。　To　some　extent；　anyway。　A　particularly　violent　shudder　pinballed　the　trio
from　one　side　of　the　passageway　to　the　other　and　back；　and　made　Greiss　curse　and　demand　to　know
why　Lorenzo　hadn’t　felt　that　one　coming。
Darkness　enveloped　them；　and　Lorenzo　snapped　on　his　helmet　light；　which　luckily　still　worked。
They　passed　several　junctions；　with　Greiss　bellowing　directions　at　each　one—and　they　found　their
path　strewn　with　crushed　ork　bodies；　and　had　to　squeeze　their　way　around　more　than　one　partial
cave…in。
It　was　Braxton　who　first　voiced　the　feeling　that　they　were　being　followed；　though　when　Lorenzo
shone　his　light　behind　them　they　could　see　nothing。　Greiss　urged　them　on；　and　eventually　he
directed　them　into　an　upward…leading　passageway　that　was　smoother　and　straighter　than　the　others；
obviously　worked；　like　the　one　they　had　followed　down　from　the　clearing。
The　first　set　of　wooden　struts　they　came　across　had　slipped　and　buckled　but；　miraculously；　held；
they　climbed　past　them　gingerly。　The　second　had　broken　into　splinters；　but　fortunately　the　roof　was
staying　up　by　itself。
It　was　just　past　the　third　that　their　luck　ran　out。
Lorenzo　heard　the　orks　ahead　of　them　before　he　saw　them。　There　were　a　half…dozen　of　them；
jabbering　in　panic　as　they　tried　to　dig　through　a　pile　of　rubble　that　had　completely　blocked　the
tunnel。　They　were　succeeding　mostly　in　getting　in　each　other’s　way：　as　the　Jungle　Fighters　watched；
one　ork　accidentally　embedded　its　pickaxe　in　the　skull　of　another。
They　were　sitting　ducks　for　a　volley　of　las…fire；　the　narrow　confines　ensuring　that　even　through
the　quake　most　of　the　Jungle　Fighters’　shots　found　a　target。　The　orks；　in　turn；　didn’t　seem　to　be
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armed—and；　taken　by　surprise；　they　jostled　with　each　other　in　their　haste　to　close　with　their
attackers；　more　than　one　of　them　stumbling　in　the　melee　and　being　manhandled　aside。　A　single
greenskin　made　it　within　knife　range—and　this；　Lorenzo　made　short　work　of　with　his　Catachan
fang。
As　he　yanked　his　blade　out　of　the　ork’s　chest；　he　stumbled；　brushed　the　tunnel　wall　with　his　bare
arm　and　recoiled　from　its　unexpected　heat。　Greiss　had　felt　it　too；　and　he　gave　Lorenzo　a　quizzical
look。　“Lava；”　he　confirmed。　“It’s　alright—it　hasn’t　built　up　enough　pressure　yet　to　cause　a　burst。
We’ve　got　a　few　minutes。”
Greiss　nodded；　and　asked；　“How　far　to　the　surface？”
“Almost　there。　Just　the　other　side　of　that　cave…in。”
“Guess　the　orks　had　the　right　idea；　then；”　said　Greiss—and　the　Jungle　Fighters　rummaged　amid
the　corpses　of　their　enemies　to　retrieve　their　pickaxes　and　spades；　and　set　about　the　blockage　with
gusto　and　a　great　deal　more　efficiency　and　teamwork　than　the　greenskins　had　demonstrated。
Lorenzo　was　worried　about　Greiss。　He　had　retied　his　bandana　like　a　bandage　over　his　head
wound—but　the　bleeding　showed　no　sign　of　abating；　red　rivulets　rolling　down　his　cheek。　None　of
this　seemed　to　lessen　the　zeal　with　which　he　swung　his　pickaxe；　but　then　Lorenzo　had　learned　to
expect　no　less　from　him。
“Looks　like　you　were　right；　Braxton；”　Greiss　murmured—and　Lorenzo　swung　around；　and　this
time　his　light　beam　did　pick　out　something。　A　lot　of　somethings；　no　longer　bothering　to　hide。
Ork　zombies；　shuffling　up　the　tunnel　behind　them。　They　could　only　fit　two　abreast　with　their
broad　shoulders；　but　their　ranks　extended　further　back　than　Lorenzo　could　see—and；　at　their　heart：
the　chilling　sight　of　an　even　bulkier　creature　that　could　only　have　been　the　warboss　himself；　his　skull
half…caked　with　mud　but　stripped　to　the　bone　beneath　this。
There　was　still　too　far　to　dig；　no　way　they　could　escape　in　time。　There　were　too　many　sources　of
fresh　corpses　for　Rogar　to　use　against　them；　even　discounting　those　orks　that　had　been　melted　in
lava　or　whose　bones　had　been　shattered。　Lorenzo　found　himself　averting　his　gaze　from　the
oncoming　army—not　through　fear　of　their　strength　and　numbers；　but　lest　he　glimpse　the　familiar
shape　of　a　lost　comrade　among　them。
“Looks　like　this　is　it；”　growled　Greiss。
“No；　sergeant；”　protested　Lorenzo—though　he　knew　it　was　hopeless　too。　“Not　now。　Not　when
we’re　so　close！”
“I　didn’t　mean　the　end　for　all　of　us。　Just　me。　About　damn　time！”
“What…　what　are　you…？”　Lorenzo　began—but　Greiss　hefted　his　pickaxe；　and　Lorenzo　saw　that
gleam　in　his　eyes；　saw　where　it　was　focused；　and　suddenly　he　knew　what　the　sergeant　was　planning。
And；　impulsively；　he　laid　a　restraining　hand　on　his　shoulder　and　he　said；　“Let　me。”
“What’s　wrong　with　you；　trooper？”　snapped　Greiss。　“That’s　ty　orders；
and　I’m　telling　you；　I　don’t　like　it！”
“You’ve　taken　worse　hits　than　this；　sergeant。　I　know　you　have。　You　aren’t　going　to　let　some
dumb　ork　get　the　better　of　you；　are　you？”
“Too　damn　old；”　grumbled　Greiss。　“This　was　always　going　to　be　my　last　outing。　And　you；
Lorenzo；　you　got　a　job　to　do。　You’re　the　only　one　who　can　tell　Patch’s　story。　I’m　only　sorry　I　won’t
be　around　to　hear　it。”
“I…　I’m　dying　too；　sergeant。　Poisoned。”
Greiss　looked　Lorenzo　up　and　down；　and　said　curtly；　“You　look　alright　to　me。”　Lorenzo　couldn’t
argue；　because　Greiss　was　right—because；　exhausted　and　hurt　though　he　was；　he　realised　only　now
that　the　effects　of　the　effigy’s　venom；　the　nausea　and　the　dizziness；　had　receded。
Then　Greiss　clapped　him　on　the　arm　and　smiled　grimly。　“Live　for　me。　Tell　everyone　I　did　it；　got
my　blaze　of　glory。　And　don’t　be　so　damn　impatient　for　yours。　Way　I　see　it；　you　got　a　lot　of　stories　in
you　yet；　you　only　just　earned　your　name。”
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He　turned　and；　before　Lorenzo　could　say　anything　else—before　he　could　think　what　to　say—he
was　charging　at　the　front　rank　of　zombies　with　a　bloodcurdling　scream。　As　he　reached　them；　as　they
grabbed　and　clawed　at　him；　he　smashed　his　pickaxe　into　the　wall　beside　them；　again　and　again；　until
the　first　crack　began　to　show…　and　to　widen…　and　explode。
A　deluge　of　lava　crashed　into　the　passageway；　and　surged　downhill。　It　subsumed　Sergeant　Greiss
and　the　zombies；　swept　them　away；　and　Lorenzo　knew　that　this　time　there　wouldn’t　be　enough　left
of　any　of　them　for　Rogar　to　reanimate。　He　turned　away；　couldn’t　watch；　concentrated　on　the
blockage　in　front　of　him；　swinging　his　pickaxe　in　time　with　Braxton’s；　driving　himself　on；　ignoring
the　pain　in　his　fractured　wrist；　not　letting　himself　think　about　anything　but　the　task　at　hand　because
if　he　did　think　about　it；　what　had　happened　to　Greiss　and　Armstrong　and　Myers　and　Storm　and　all
the　others；　if　he　really　thought　about　it；　he　might　have　been　overwhelmed　by　the　unfairness　of　it　all。
Why　them？　Why　them　and　not　him？
Lorenzo　thought　about　their　sacrifices；　and　his　greatest　fear　was　that　they　would　all　be　for
nothing。
His　pickaxe　rose　and　fell；　and　he　could　feel　the　heat　from　the　lava　at　his　back　and　the　rock　walls
closed　in　around　him；　and　his　pickaxe　rose　and　fell；　and　there　were　tears　in　his　eyes　but　that　might
have　been　the　dirt。　He　remembered　the　ship；　out　in　warp　space；　so　long　ago　now；　and　that　feeling　of
being　trapped；　surrounded　by　hostile　forces；　helpless　to　influence　his　own　fate；　and　he　longed　for　the
open　air　but　feared　he　would　never　breathe　it　again。
Lorenzo’s　pickaxe　rose　and　fell；　and　he　felt　as　if　he　had　been　doing　this　forever；　getting
nowhere。　He　could　sense　the　planet；　his　enemy；　a　living　presence　in　his　thoughts；　and　he　knew　it　had
won；　defeated　him；　that　he　would　never　find　his　way　out　from　inside　it—that　Rogar　III　would　bury
him　as　it　had　buried　the　rest　of　his　squad。　Just　swallowed　them　up；　left　no　trace　of　them。　No　one　to
tell　their　stories。
No　one　to　remember…
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CHAPTER　EIGHTEEN
Daylight。
Lorenzo　hardly　registered　it　at　first；　couldn’t　bring　himself　to　believe　in　what　might　have　been　a
cruel　trick　on　the　planet’s　part。　It　was　only　a　pinprick；　after　all；　not　enough　to　make　out　any　details
of　what　might　be　out　there。　But　it　was　daylight；　nonetheless；　and　its　touch　invigorated　him。
His　right　wrist　was　bruise…blackened；　stiffening；　and　he　couldn’t　wield　the　pickaxe　anymore
without　suffering　a　lance　of　pain　up　his　arm。　But　he　and　Braxton　had　chipped　most　of　the　bigger
pieces　of　rock　away；　and　Lorenzo’s　knife　was　now　sufficient　to　whittle　at　the　packed　soil　that
remained。　To　make　that　pinprick　wider。
Finally；　thankfully；　after　what　seemed　like　an　age　in　the　dark；　they　pushed　their　way　through　a
curtain　of　loose　earth　and　emerged；　stumbling　and　choking；　into　the　dew…pregnant　morning。　Only　a
few　hours；　Lorenzo　calculated　from　the　height　of　the　sun；　since　they　had　entered　the　ork　mine—but
what　a　difference　those　few　hours　had　made。
The　earth　had　stopped　shaking；　Lorenzo　didn’t　know　when。　Maybe　Rogar　III　had　expended　its
energy—or　maybe　it　was　just　content　with　its　fresh　kills；　for　now。　Nothing　stirred　in　the　jungle—
and；　after　so　much　noise；　the　silence　felt　eerie。　It　heightened　Lorenzo’s　creeping　sense　of　loneliness。
There　was　a　shape　in　the　undergrowth。　An　ork；　lying　face…down。　He　thought　it　was　sleeping　at
first；　but　on　closer　inspection　it　proved　to　be　dead。　He　recognised　the　multiple　scorched　entrance
wounds　of　las…rounds　on　its　green　skin。　A　short　way　from　it；　he　discovered　another　two　greenskin
corpses；　and　a　gretchin　that　had　evidently　tried　to　run　and　had　been　cut　down　from　behind。　They
must　have　escaped　the　mine　before　the　tunnel　collapse；　he　thought；　to　find　a　greater　peril　waiting
outside。　He　was　grateful。　In　his　current　condition；　even　a　trio　of　orks；　if　they　had　taken　him　by
surprise；　might　have　proved　too　much。
Lorenzo　sensed；　rather　than　heard；　movement　behind　him；　and　he　knew　it　could　only　be　one
man。　He　turned　to　greet　Sly　Marbo　with　a　cool　nod。
The　legendary　Catachan　stood　just　a　few　metres　away；　but　Lorenzo　could　hardly　make　him　out
against　the　greens　and　browns　of　his　background。　He　recognised　his　dead；　white　eyes；　though；　and
his　deep　voice；　empty　of　emotion。
“Did　you　get　him？”　asked　Sly　Marbo。
“Big　Green？”　said　Lorenzo。　“Yes；　yes；　we　got　him。”
Marbo　nodded。　He　had　heard　what　he　needed　to　know。　He　left　without　a　footstep　or　a　rustle；
seeming　to　melt　into　the　jungle　without　moving　at　all。　For　a　moment；　Lorenzo　fought　the
discomfiting　feeling　that　he　hadn’t　moved；　that　he　was　still　there；　watching　with　his　white　eyes。　But
that　was　just　paranoia；　he　knew。　Marbo　was　gone—and　it　was　unlikely　Lorenzo　would　see　him
again。
Braxton；　meanwhile；　had　sagged　to　the　ground；　and　was　sitting　with　his　back　to　a　tree；　knees　up
to　his　chest。　“I　could　sleep　for　a　week；”　he　moaned。
“Go　ahead；”　said　Lorenzo；　checking　for　jungle　lizards　in　the　grass　before　he　sat　down　b