Death World(科幻战争)-第4部分

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quick　enough。　He　slept　soundly；　knowing　he　was　safe　in　the　charge　of　his　comrades—until；　in　the
dark　hours　of　the　morning；　some　inbred　danger　sense　woke　him。
He　opened　his　eyes；　instantly　alert；　to　face　a　yellow　stare。
A　jungle　lizard；　just　a　little　larger　than　the　one　he　had　seen　yesterday。　Somehow　it　had　slipped　by
the　Guardsmen　of　two　regiments；　and　crept　up　on　him。　Its　eyes　stared　into　his　eyes。　It　was　perfectly
still；　its　trailing　body　propped　up　by　two　legs　like　miniature　tree　trunks。　Tiny　nostrils　quivered　as　it
breathed；　slowly　and　calmly。　Its　mouth　was　a　thin　line；　perhaps　a　little　upturned　at　the　edges。　As　if　it
was　mocking　him；　gloating。
Lorenzo　had　seen　lizards　that　could　breathe　fire　and　spit　poison；　or　eviscerate　a　man　with　their
claws　in　seconds。　He　had　seen　one　burrow　into　a　man’s　stomach　and　attach　itself　to　his　nervous
system；　working　him　like　a　puppet。　He　had　no　idea　of　the　capabilities　of　this　one；　but　he　didn’t　doubt
that　it　was　deadly。　Deathworlds　bred　no　other　type　of　animal。　And　it　had　the　drop　on　him。
He　lay　still　as　a　rock；　staring　into　those　yellow　eyes；　looking　for　the　slightest　glimmer　of　intent；
the　warning　that　the　lizard　was　about　to　strike。
Slowly；　painfully　slowly；　so　slowly　that　his　muscles　screamed　in　protest；　Lorenzo’s　fingers
worked　their　way　down　his　leg。　Toward　his　Catachan　fang。
The　lizard　made　its　move。
Its　mouth　gaped　open；　impossibly　wide；　almost　larger　than　its　head—and　during　the　briefest
split…second　that　followed；　Lorenzo　got　the　impression　of　a　coiled　red　tongue　with　a　glistening
needlepoint　end。　He　snatched　his　knife　from　its　sheath；　tried　to　roll　out　of　the　way；　but　he　knew　there
was　no　time。
Something　flashed　through　the　air。　Something　metal。
Then　there　was　blood—thick；　green　blood—and　Lorenzo　was　up　and　armed；　but　only　because
the　expected　attack　had　not　come。
A　Catachan　fang　was　buried　up　to　its　haft　in　the　lizard’s　head。　Its　blade　had　passed　through　the
creature’s　mouth；　pinning　its　tongue；　and　into　the　scorched　earth　beneath　it。　An　ordinary　man　might
have　thanked　the　God…Emperor　for　sparing　him；　but　Lorenzo　had　long　since　learned　there　was　no
divine　intervention　in　such　matters。　He　thanked　good　comrades　instead。
“Sorry　“bout　that；　pal；”　said　Myers；　reclaiming　his　knife　from　the　dead　lizard’s　head　and
casually　wiping　off　its　blood　and　brain　matter　with　a　leaf。　“These　critters　are　like　chameleons；　they
can　change　their　scale　patterns　to　blend　in　with　their　surroundings。”
As　usual；　Myers　was　accompanied　by　Wildman　Storm—a　muscular；　bearded　Catachan　who
often　looked　like　he　would　tear　off　your　head　as　soon　as　look　at　you；　until　his　features　broke　into　a
dazzling　grin。　“We’ve　picked　off　a　few　tonight；”　he　said；　“but　we　didn’t　hear　this　one　until　it　was
already　past　us。　Took　a　minute　to　find　it。”
“No　problem；”　said　Lorenzo；　adding　a　grateful　nod　for　the　rescue。
No　longer　pinned；　the　lizard　had　toppled　onto　its　side。　Its　ruptured　tongue　lolled　out　of　its　mouth；
leaking　venom　and　blood。　From　above；　no　longer　eye　to　eye　with　it；　it　seemed　small　and
insignificant。　It　was　easy　to　forget　the　real　threat　it　had　posed　just　a　few　seconds　earlier。　Lorenzo
wondered　what　its　poison　would　have　done　to　him—weakened　him；　paralysed　him；　killed　him
outright？
“Do　you　suppose　these　are　the　‘invisible　monsters’　they　talk　about　round　here？”　asked　Storm。
Lorenzo　shrugged。
“Hope　not；”　said　Myers；　as　he　re…sheathed　his　knife　and　sauntered　away。　“I　was　hoping　for
something　more　of　a　challenge。”
Breakfast　for　the　Catachans　was　a　vegetable　broth；　brewed　by　Dougan　from　local　plants。　It　was　the
best　meal　Lorenzo　had　tasted　in　weeks—made　even　more　so　when　Storm　dropped　a　hunk　of　lizard
steak　into　his　bowl。　The　men　were　in　high　spirits；　looking　forward　to　their　missions。　The　only
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shadow　on　the　horizon　was　that　of　Commissar　Mackenzie—and　Greiss　in　particular　was　taking　the
usurpation　of　his　position　badly。
“You　tell　me　what　the　Imperium　is　even　doing　here；”　he　grumbled　over　his　soup。　“We’re　out　at
the　rear　end　of　nowhere；　there　aren’t　any　minerals　here　worth　a　light；　and　as　for　colonising；　forget　it！
I’ll　tell　you　this　much：　if　the　orks　packed　up　tomorrow　and　left　Rogar　III；　we　wouldn’t　be　too　far
behind　’em。　Seems　to　me　the　only　reason　we’re　here　is　because　they　are；　because　the　Emperor’s
armies　can’t　be　seen　to　be　turning　their　backs　on　the　enemy。　The　only　reason　the　orks　won’t　leave　is
because　they　won’t　turn　their　backs　on　us；　so　we　just　keep　fighting。”
“Hey；　steady　on；　sergeant；”　said　Woods。　“You’re　starting　to　sound　like　a　heretic！”
“Hell；　don’t　get　me　wrong；”　said　Greiss；　“I’m　as　up　for　a　scrap　as　the　next　man。　I’d　just　rather
orks　and　Guardsmen　alike　moved　their　backsides　out　of　here　and　left　us　to　it。　Jungle　Fighters　against
the　jungle；　the　way　it　should　be。”
“Yeah；　I　can　get　on　board　with　that；”　grinned　Woods。
“Course；”　sighed　Greiss；　“ours　is　not　to　reason　why。　We　just　move　where　we’re　told　to　move；
fight　who　we’re　told　to　fight；　jump　when　we’re　told　to　jump。”
Lorenzo　remembered　what　the　sergeant　had　said　back　on　the　ship；　how　he　wanted　his　blaze　of
glory。　He　was　unlikely　to　get　it　with　Mackenzie　calling　the　shots。　He　told　himself　there’d　be　other
chances　for　the　grizzled　sergeant；　but　he　could　see　it　in　Greiss’　despondent　eyes：　he’d　convinced
himself　that　this　would　be　his　last　hurrah。　Lorenzo　had　seen　what　happened　to　men　who　began　to
think　that　way。　It　was　a　thought　that　tended　to　become　a　self…fulfilling　prophecy。
The　hall　was　beginning　to　empty　when　a　Validian　approached　Lorenzo’s　table；　and　took　a　seat
beside　him。　He　was　in　his　thirties；　but　still　baby…faced。　He　wasn’t　exactly　fat；　but　then　nor　were　his
muscles　exactly　toned。　He　was　beginning　to　grow　jowls。　Sizing　him　up　in　a　second；　Lorenzo
concluded　that　he’d　never　have　reached　half　his　present　age　on　Catachan。
Greiss　looked　up　from　his　meal。　“You’re　at　the　wrong　table；　boy；”　he　growled；　although　the
Validian　couldn’t　have　been　much　younger　than　he　was。　“Your　lot　are　over　that　side　of　the　hall。”
“I　know　that；　sergeant；”　said　the　Guardsman。　“I　wanted　to　introduce　myself　before　we　set　out。
Braxton。”　He　held　out　a　hand；　which　Greiss　ignored。　“Commissar　Mackenzie’s　adjutant—and　I
report　for　the　Eagle　&　Bolter。　Didn’t　anyone　tell　you？　I’ve　been　attached　to　your　squad。　I’m　coming
with　you　this　morning。”
“Like　hell！”　snapped　Greiss；　and　he　pushed　his　bowl　aside　and　stormed　out　of　the　hall。　Woods
shot　Braxton　a　mocking　sneer；　then　followed。　Myers　and　Storm；　further　down　the　table；　were
absorbed　in　their　own　conversation；　which　left　Lorenzo　effectively；　awkwardly；　alone　with　the
newcomer。
“Don’t　mind　Old　Hardhead；”　he　said。　“He’s　had　his　nose　put　out　of　joint　by　your　boss。”
Braxton　nodded。　“The　commissar　does　seem　to　have　a　talent　for　that。”　The　Validian　and　the
Jungle　Fighter　shared　a　brief　smile。　“I　just　thought　you　ought　to　know　we　aren’t　all　like　him；”　said
Braxton。　“Or　Enright。”
“Enright？”
“The　sergeant　who　started　the　trouble　yesterday。　Talk　about　noses　being　out　of　joint！　Or　if　it
wasn’t　before　the　fight；　your　trooper　over　there　sure　saw　to　it…　Enright　and　his　cronies　can’t　face
the　fact　that　we　need　your　help。　They　think　we　should　be　able　to　handle　a　few　orks　by　ourselves。”
“But　the　orks　aren’t　the　problem。”　Lorenzo　pointed　out。
“I　know；”　said　Braxton。　“Rogar　III　has　changed。　I　think　I’ve　noticed　it　more　than　some　of　the
others；　because…　well…”　He　shifted　in　his　seat。　“Since　I　got　this　assignment；　I　haven’t　seen　much
action；　you　know？　But　last　week；　I　went　out　there；　into　the　jungle；　for　the　first　time　in　a　while；
and…”
Lorenzo’s　ears　pricked　up；　eager　for　some　hint　of　what　was　to　come。　“I　swear；”　said　Braxton；
“those　jungle　lizards　had　doubled　in　size　since　the　last　time　I’d　seen　one—and　they’d　never　been　so
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vicious。　They　used　to　run　for　cover　when　we　got　within　ten　metres。　We　used　them　for　target
practice。　Now；　they’re　getting　bolder；　sniffing　around　the　camp　itself。　One　of　them　stung　Marks。　The
veins　in　his　neck；　and　then　his　face；　they　turned　black；　throbbing。　He　was　screaming；　begging　us　to
put　him　out　of　his　misery。　We　had　to　do　it。　He’d　have　brought　the　orks　down　on　us。”
“I　just　wanted　to　say；”　said　Braxton；　“that　it’s　good　to　have　the　experts　here。”
“Not　according　to　Mackenzie；”　said　Lorenzo。
“I　know—and　if　it　were　up　to　me；　we’d　leave　you　to　do　your　jobs。　We’re　only　going　to　slow　you
down　out　there。　But　the　commissar—he’s　young；　he　wants　to　prove　himself。　I　think　he　wants　to　be
the　one　to　tame　the　famous　Jungle　Fighters。　And　deal　with　Big　Green；　of　course。”
“And　you　just　go　where　Mackenzie　leads；　huh？”
“My　job　is　to　report　his　glorious　victory—if　I’m　lucky。”
Lorenzo　regarded　Braxton　with　a　newly　sympathetic　gaze。　It　occurred　to　him　that　he　was　only
obeying　orders；　like　anyone—and　that；　in　his　own　milieu；　he　was　probably　an　able　fighter。　But；　like
most　Guardsmen；　he　would　have　been　conscripted　at　the　age　of　sixteen　or　seventeen；　already　an
adult。　Lorenzo　had　been　taught　to　defend　himself　with　a　knife　before　he　could　walk。　By　the　age　of
eight；　Catachan　children　were　expected　to　be　able　to　tame　a　wild　grox；　a　harsh　lesson　that　some　did
not　survive；　but　such　was　the　nature　of　life　on　a　deathworld。　You　could　be　forged　in　its　jungle　heat；
or　you　could　wither　and　die　in　it。
Beneath　Guardsman　Braxton’s　words　was　an　unspoken　plea　for　help。　But　the　men　of　Lorenzo’s
world—like　those　of　all　deathworlds　across　the　Imperium—obeyed　only　one　law：　that　of　the　jungle。
Survival　of　the　fittest。
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CHAPTER　FOUR
It　was　another　clear　day。　The　sun　blazed　bright　and　hot；　the　morning　temperature　far　in　excess　of
that　of　the　previous　evening；　the　air　bereft　of　breeze。　Most　of　the　Validians　had　been　forced　out　of
their　stuffy　huts；　and　some　were　evidently　finding　the　heat　uncomfortable。　The　Catachans；　however；
revelled　in　it。　It　opened　Lorenzo’s　pores　and　invigorated　him。
The　clearing　was　full　of　sweaty　bodies；　moving　in　time　to　barked　commands。　Jungle　Fighters
were　forming　up　in　their　squads　and　moving　out。　The　men　of　A　Platoon　were　arming　themselves
with　autocannons　and　heavy　bolters；　and　tuning　up　the　three　Sentinels　that　would　precede　them　into
battle。
Mackenzie　was　in　the　thick　of　the　activity；　dispensing　words　here　and　there　to　the　sergeants；
complaining　repeatedly　about　the　Catachans’　lack　of　a　formal　uniform。　“Uniforms　get　damaged。”
Colonel　Graves　told　him；　“when　you’re　out　in　the　jungle。”　But　it　didn’t　seem　to　calm　Mackenzie’s
ire。
Greiss　would　normally　have　had　his　squad　doing　circuits　or　squat…thrusts　by　now；　instead；　he　sat
with　his　knees　to　his　chest；　and　snarled　at　anyone　who　dared　come　near　him。　Muldoon　had　acquired
the　dyes　of　some　indigenous　plants；　and　was　adapting　his　body　camouflage　to　the　local　shapes　and
colours。　A　few　other　Catachans　had　followed　his　lead；　Myers　and　Storm　among　them；　glad　to　let　the
sun　caress　their　skin。　Lorenzo；　however；　was　no　artist；　he　would　have　to　make　do　with　his　heavy
jacket；　and　with　a　few　streaks　of　dubbin　across　his　face。
Mackenzie　was　annoyed　to　find　the　squad　not　standing　to　attention；　awaiting　his　inspection；　he
made　his　displeasure　known　to　Greiss；　who　shrugged　and　climbed　to　his　feet　in　his　own　time。　The
Catachans　fell　in　sloppily；　making　their　feelings　for　the　young　officer　clear。　In　turn；　Mackenzie
griped　about　the　absence　of　regulation　shoulder　guards　with　identifying　numbers；　but　there　wasn’t
much　he　could　do　about　it　at　this　stage。　He　gave　a　stern　speech　that　was　mostly　a　reworking　of　the
previous　day’s—“whip　you　rabble　into　shape”；　“smartest　Guardsmen　in　the　Imperium”　and　so
forth—with　a　few　clichés　added：　“When　I　say　‘jump’…　I　expect　you　to　crawl　on　your　bellies　over
broken　glass…”
“We’re　facing　a　four…day　journey　together；”　concluded　the　commissar。　“Eight　days；　for　those
lucky　enough　to　make　the　return　trip。　It’ll　go　much　easier　if　we　all　pull　together。”　He　produced　a
sheet　of　paper；　then；　and　began　a　roll　call。　“Sergeant　Greiss。”
“Yes！”
“Yes；　what？”
“Yes；　sir！”　said　Greiss　with　a　sneer。
“Trooper　Armstrong。”
Patch　Armstrong　answered　to　his　name；　and　Mackenzie　went　through　the　others；　giving　each
trooper　in　turn　an　appraising　look　as　he　committed　his　face　to　memory。　Dougan；　Storm；　Myers；
Donovits；　Muldoon；　Woods；　finally；　Lorenzo　and　Landon。
Braxton；　of　course；　was　already　well　known　to　the　commissar。　The　Validian　had　found　an　illfitting
camouflage　jacket　in　the　stores；　and　was　looking　uncomfortable。　Mackenzie　was　in
camouflage　too；　though　he　had　retained　his　peaked　cap。　It　was　a　little　too　large　for　him；　but　his
jutting　ears　kept　it　from　sliding　down。　“Do　you　think　it’s　a　good　idea　to　be　going　into　this　with　an
eagle…shaped　target　on　your　head；　sir？”　Greiss　asked；　with　measured　disdain。
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“It’s　a　symbol　of　authority；　sergeant；”　snarled　Mackenzie。　“You’ll　learn。　By　the　time　I’m
finished　with　you；　you’ll　all　learn。”
They　moved　out；　at　the　commissar’s　insistence；　at　a　quick　march　in　two　ranks　of　five；　with
Greiss　leading　the　way。　Mackenzie　brought　up　the　rear；　occasionally　shouting　orders。
They　broke　step；　however；　as　they　crossed　the　tree　line—and　Lorenzo　noted　that　Mackenzie
worked　his　way　into　the　centre　of　the　group；　so　that　there　would　always　be　a　Catachan　between　him
and　any　potential　threat。　The　commissar　had　a　rough　sketched　map；　which　he　kept　to　himself；　and　a
compass。　He　kept　the　squad　moving　on　a　bearing　of　approximately　twenty…five　degrees。　“We’re
taking　a　circuitous　route；”　he　explained　when　questioned；　“to　avoid　a　small　ork　encampment　to　the
north…west　of　here。”
“I’m　sure　we　could　take　’em；　sir；”　offered　Woods。
“I’m　sure　we　could；　trooper；”　said　Mackenzie　icily；　“but　as　I　explained　at　the　briefing　last　night；
this　is　a　stealth　mission。　A　single　ork　gets　wind　of　our　presence　in　this　area　and　lives　to　tell　of　it；　and
we　may　as　well　pack　up　and　go　home—because　our　chances　of　getting　within　shooting　distance　of
their　warboss　will　be　zero。”
“I　still　say　we　could　take　’em；”　muttered　Woods　resentfully。　But　Mackenzie　was　right；　and　he
knew　it。
The　jungle　closed　in　above　them；　sparing　them　the　fiercest　of　the　sun’s　rays；　though　the　air　was
still　sweltering。　Braxton　was　sweating；　wiping　his　damp　forehead　with　his　sleeve　every　few　steps。
The　burnt　odour　lingered；　and　the　Catachans’　feet　crunched　on　dead；　blackened　leaves。　This　area
had　been　torched—and　recently—but　with　little　effect。　Some　of　the　plants　and　trees　seemed　to　have
been　growing　here　for　years。
Their　progress　was　punctuated　by　cracks　of　las…fire；　whenever　a　jungle　lizard　was　sighted。　Myers
and　Storm　had　warned　everyone　of　the　creatures’　chameleonic　properties；　and　Lorenzo　had　added
the　information　he’d　received　from　Braxton；　so　the　whole　squad　was　on　the　alert。　Out　loud；　each
man　swore　he　would　never　end　his　days　like　Braxton’s　ill…fated　friend；　pleading　for　the　mercy　of　a
quick　death。　Privately；　Lorenzo　knew—as　the　others　must　have　known—that　stronger　men　than　he
had　been　broken　by　such　pain　as　only　a　deathworld　could　inflict。
In　time；　the　discharges　became　less　frequent；　as　if　the　lizards　had　learned　from　their　mistakes
and　were　keeping　their　distance。　Lorenzo　didn’t　imagine　for　a　second；　though；　that　they　had　seen　the
last　of　them。
That　burnt　smell　was　fading。　The　jungle　grass　was　growing　taller　and　the　trees　more　closely
together；　letting　less　sunlight　in　through　their　branches。　A　pink…headed；　acid…spitting　plant　reared　up
beside　the　Catachans　without　warning；　but　Myers　blasted　it　to　pieces　before　it　could　open　its　mouth。
Lorenzo　felt　goose　bumps　on　his　flesh；　but　it　was　a　pleasant　feeling。
He　seemed　to　have　been　waiting　a　long　time　for　this：　to　plunge　into　the　darkest　heart　of　the
jungle。　To　face　Rogar　III　on　its　own　turf。
They　were　about　two　hours　out　when　Braxton　reported　to　the　nearest　Jungle　Fighters—Myers　and
Storm—that　he　thought　they　were　being　followed。　Their　only　response　was　a　pair　of　knowing　grins；
so　Braxton　called　out　to　Commissar　Mackenzie。　“Sir！　Sir；　I　think　we’re　being　followed。”
The　young　officer　called　a　halt；　and　the　squad　stood　silent　for　a　minute　or　two。　Mackenzie
frowned。　“Anyone　hear　anything？”
“No；　sir；”　murmured　the　Catachans。
“It　was　up　there；　sir；”　said　Braxton；　pointing；　“in　the　trees。”
“You’re　imagining　things；　Braxton；”　decided　Mackenzie；　though　his　voice　betrayed　a　doubt。
Lorenzo　caught　an　aside　from　Storm　to　Myers：　“Looks　like　the　commissar’s　radar　dish　ears　are
just　ornamental；　then。”
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“Actually；”　said　Sergeant　Greiss；　with　no　little　satisfaction；　“there　is　someone　stalking　us。　The
rest　of　us　have　been　aware　of　it　since　we　left　the　clearing。”
Mackenzie　turned　pink。　“What？　Then　why　didn’t　you　speak　up？”
“Because　he’s　on　our　side。　In　fact；　we’re　honoured　to　have　him　watching　our　backs。”
The　commissar　looked　none　the　wiser；　and　fumbled　with　his　list　of　names。　“There’s　no　one
missing；”　he　said。
“This　man　works　alone；”　said　Dougan。
Mackenzie　scowled。　“That　is　not　acceptable。　This　offensive　has　been　planned　to　the　last　detail；
and　I　will　not　have　those　plans　jeopardised　by　a　maverick。”　He　shouted　into　the　jungle：　“You；
trooper。　Come　here；　now！”
Dougan　cleared　his　throat。　“Should　you　be　yelling　like　that；　sir？　If　there　are　ork　patrols　or
gretchin　in　the　area—”
The　commissar　ignored　him。　“Trooper；　my　name　is　Commissar　Mackenzie；　and　I　am　in
command　here。　I　demand　you　show　yourself　immediately。　You　have　ten　seconds。　If　I　can’t　see　your
face　by　then；　you　will　be　facing　court…martial！”
The　echoes　of　his　words　were　soaked　up　by　the　foliage。　In　the　distance；　a　bird　took　flight。　There
was　no　other　sound。
“Could　be　out　of　earshot　by　now；　sir；”　offered　Myers。
Mackenzie　rounded　on　the　Catachans；　clenching　his　fists。　“If　anyone　sees　or　hears　a　trace　of　that
man　again；　I　wish　to　be　informed　of　it　immediately；　do　you　hear　me？　Immediately！”
They　moved　on。
Dougan　dropped　back　in　the　marching　order　until　he　was　alongside　Braxton。　He　gave　the
Validian　an　approving　nod。　“Mostly；　if　Sly　Marbo　doesn’t　want　to　be　seen　or　heard；　he　isn’t—
sometimes　not　even　by　those　of　us　who　know　he’s　around。　I’m　impressed。”
An　hour　after　that；　the　jungle　became　so　dense　that　the　Catachans　had　to　draw　their　knives　and　cut
their　way　through。　Armstrong　and　Muldoon　took　point　to　begin　with；　Armstrong’s　devil　claw　and
Muldoon’s　sleek；　black　night　reaper　hacking　at　stinging　plants　and　thick　purple　creepers。
All　of　a　sudden；　Muldoon　let　out　a　warning　cry；　and　a　cloud　of　insects　blossomed　from　the
undergrowth　at　his　feet。　Each　was　the　length　of　one　of　Lorenzo’s　fingers；　with　hairy　black　bodies
and　gossamer　wings。　Armstrong　hopped　out　of　the　way　of　the　swarm；　but　it　latched　onto　Muldoon；
following　him　with　an　angry；　high…pitched　whine　as　he　tried　to　back　away　from　it。　He　swung　his
arms　furiously；　flattening　several　insects　against　the　nearest　tree；　his　blade　slicing　through　two　more。
The　rest　of　the　squad　had　withdrawn　out　of　reach。　Lorenzo　brought　up　his　lasgun；　squinting
along　its　sights　until　he　knew　he　could　fire　without　hitting　Muldoon。　His　las…fire　fried　several
insects；　as　did　simultaneous　shots　from　Greiss；　Woods　and　Donovits。　But　there　wer