Death World(科幻战争)-第8部分

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walked；　mesmerised　by　the　blue　light。　He　just　knew　he　had　to　get　back　to　the　campsite。　He　crashed
through　the　jungle；　following　a　trail　he　didn’t　remember　leaving；　cursing　himself　for　his　weakness。
It　wasn’t　as　if　he　hadn’t　been　warned。　He　could　see　it　clearly　now。　The　light　had　been　inside　him
all　the　time；　a　more　subtle　presence　than　he　could　have　imagined。　It　had　heightened　his　desires　and
his　fears；　whatever　it　had　taken　to　lead　him　where　it　had　wanted　him　to　go。　To　his　death。　He　had
been　lucky。　It　hadn’t　been　strong　enough。
Somehow；　he　had　found　the　will　to　focus；　to　snap　himself　out　of　its　spell。
The　only　thing　he　wanted　right　now；　the　total　of　his　hopes　and　ambitions；　was　to　find　his
comrades　alive。　He　remembered　what　Dougan　had　said；　how　he’d　suspected　that　the　blue　light　was
trying　to　lure　them　away。　What　if　there　had　been　an　attack　in　his　absence？　What　if　they　were　all
dead；　and　it　was　his　fault？
Dougan。　Suddenly；　Lorenzo　could　hear　his　voice　again；　and　see　the　intensity　in　his　gaze。　“Let
me　do　this…　I　need　to　do　this！”　He　hadn’t　questioned　him；　hadn’t　seen　that　the　light　had　cast　its
spell　over　Dougan　too。
He　stumbled　to　a　halt。　Somehow；　impossibly；　his　trail　had　petered　out。
He　was　lost　for　a　moment；　scrabbling　in　the　undergrowth；　looking　for　something—a　snapped
twig；　a　crushed　leaf—anything　to　show　he　had　passed　this　way　before。　There　was　nothing。　Until；
just　as　he　was　beginning　to　give　up　hope；　wondering　if　he　should　risk　calling　out　to　the　others；
Lorenzo’s　fingers　brushed　against　something。　Something　cold；　hard；　smooth；　angular。　Wood　and
metal。
His　lasgun。　He　had　to　tear　it　from　the　clutches　of　weeds；　as　if　it　had　lain　here　for　weeks；　been
claimed　as　the　jungle’s　own。　He　felt　another　stab　of　anxiety。　He　didn’t　feel　as　if　more　than　a　few
minutes；　maybe　a　half…hour；　had　passed；　and　the　pre…dawn　sky　supported　that　theory—but　in　the
blue　light’s　embrace；　time　hadn’t　meant　a　great　deal。　His　comrades’　corpses　could　be　rotting
already。
He　tried　not　to　think　about　it。　No　point　in　worrying　about　what　he　couldn’t　change。　Just　get　back
to　the　campsite；　and　deal　with　what　was　real。
A　pair　of　yellow　lizard　eyes　blinked　at　Lorenzo　from　under　a　flowering　plant。　He　fried　their
owner　with　a　las…round；　just　to　test　that　his　gun　wasn’t　clogged。
A　faint　breath　of　air　caressed　his　face；　and　made　his　scratches　sting。　So；　he　hadn’t　been
entranced　long　enough　for　them　to　heal。　He　remembered　stalking　an　imaginary　Devil；　standing
downwind　of　it。　He　had　to　hope　that　this　part　of　the　fantasy；　at　least；　had　been　real。　He　closed　his
eyes　and　oriented　himself　at　the　spot　where　he’d　found　the　lasgun；　tried　to　transport　himself　back　to
that　Catachan　clearing　and　to　mentally　retrace　his　steps　towards　it。
When　he　opened　his　eyes　again；　he　knew　which　way　he　had　to　go。
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Lorenzo　heard　movements　through　the　trees—and　was　that　the　sergeant’s　voice？
He　broke　into　a　run；　and　came　up　short　when　two　familiar　figures　loomed　before　him；
Armstrong　and　Landon。
“What　happened？”　asked　Armstrong　and　Landon　at　the　same　time。
“We’ve　been　searching　for　you；”　said　Armstrong。　“Where—？”
“Is　everyone—？”
“We　thought　something　must　have　dragged　you　away。　We　were　lucky　Sharkbait　woke　when　he
did；　and　started　yelling。　Landon　here　had　a　lizard　on　his　neck；　we　only　just　got　it　off　him　in　time。”
“I’m　sorry。　I　didn’t　mean　to—”
“Where’s　Steel　Toe？　Is　he　with　you？”
Lorenzo　felt　as　if　his　blood　had　just　frozen。　“You　haven’t　seen　him？”
He　swallowed；　and　told　Armstrong　everything；　burning　with　shame　beneath　the　veteran’s　oneeyed
gaze。　Before　Lorenzo’s　story　was　done；　Armstrong　was　leading　the　way　back　to　the　camp。　En
route；　they　were　joined　by　Myers　and　Storm；　both　bursting　strong　filled　them　in
brusquely；　and　Lorenzo　pointed　across　the　ashes　of　last　night’s　fire　to　where　he　had　last　seen
Dougan。　Myers　and　Storm　went　straight　off　to　resume　their　search　in　that　direction。
Armstrong　mimicked　the　screeching　call　of　a　Catachan　flying　swamp　mamba；　and　the　rest　of　the
Jungle　Fighters　answered　his　summons；　appearing　two　by　two　to　hear　the　news　and　to　have　their
own　efforts　redirected。
Sergeant　Greiss　cast　an　appraising　eye　over　Lorenzo；　and　asked　if　he　was　alright。　Lorenzo
nodded；　and　Greiss　crooked　a　finger　in　his　direction　and　growled；　“You’re　with　me；　trooper。”
Lorenzo　fell　in　at　the　sergeant’s　heels；　avoiding　his　gaze。　He　knew　what　he　must　have　been
thinking。
The　search　went　on　for　another　hour；　aided　by　the　reappearance　of　the　sun。　Donovits　and　Woods
found　a　partial　trail；　and　Donovits　identified　the　uniquely　heavy　indentation　of　Dougan’s　bionic
leg—but　as　with　Lorenzo’s　trail　earlier；　it　led　them　nowhere。
Greiss　was　about　ready　to　give　up；　Lorenzo　could　feel　it。　Until　he　gave　the　order；　though；　there
was　still　hope。　He　found　a　path　they　hadn’t　searched；　because　it　was　so　overgrown；　and　he　started　to
hack　at　the　vegetation　with　his　knife。　Greiss　regarded　him　for　a　second　then；　to　his　immense
gratitude；　the　sergeant　drew　his　own　Catachan　fang　and　joined　him。
They　hadn’t　gone　far　when　a　figure　dropped　out　of　a　tree　in　front　of　them。　It　was　a　lithe　man　in
camouflage　fatigues　and　the　customary　bandana；　with　tanned　skin　and　dark　hair　like　Dougan’s。
Lorenzo’s　heart　leapt—and　it　stayed　in　his　mouth　as　he　recognised　this　newcomer；　not　as　the　man
they　were　looking　for　but　as　Sly　Marbo。
He　had　never　been　this　close　to　the　legendary　one…man　army　before。　In　other　circumstances；　he
might　have　felt　honoured—but　Marbo　seemed　hardly　to　have　seen　Lorenzo。　His　face　was　taut；
denied　so　much　as　a　flicker　of　emotion；　and　his　eyes　were　white　and　penetrating　but　dead　inside；　as
he　addressed　Greiss。　“You　won’t　find　your　trooper　this　way。”
Greiss　accepted　the　pronouncement　without　question。　“Have　you　seen　him？”
Marbo　shook　his　head。　“This　jungle　has　a　way　of　hiding　things；　and　people。　Haven’t　worked　it
out　yet。”
Greiss　sighed；　and　called　out；　“Right；　let’s　call　it　a　day。　Reassemble　at　the　campsite。”　There　was
no　response；　but　Lorenzo　knew　that　one　of　the　others　would　have　heard；　and　passed　the　message　on。
“One　more　thing；”　said　Marbo　in　his　deep；　throaty　voice。　“There’s　an　ork　encampment　forty
kilometres　from　here；　twenty…two　degrees。　A　big　one。　Don’t　think　the　Validians　know　about　it—but
your　course　will　take　you　right　through　it。”
Lorenzo　didn’t　question　how　he　could　have　scouted　so　far　ahead。　He　was　Sly　Marbo。
“No　way　round？”
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“Not　unless　you　want　to　go　wading　through　an　acid　swamp—or　adding　four　days　to　your
journey。”
Greiss　expressed　his　gratitude　with　a　curt　nod—then　Marbo　was　gone。　Just　gone；　in　the　time　it
took　Lorenzo　to　blink；　leaving　not　the　faintest　ripple　in　the　foliage。　Sergeant　Greiss　turned　to　retrace
his　steps　too；　but　Lorenzo　stopped　him　with　a　hand　on　his　shoulder。　“No。　You　can’t…　Trooper
Dougan；　he　could　still　be…”
Greiss　raised　an　eyebrow。　“You　heard　what　Marbo　said。　Steel　Toe’s　gone。　Accept　it　and　move
on。”
“But　what　if　the　light　still　has　him？　If　he’s　been　hypnotised…　He　could　be　out　there！”
“You　say　this　light　of　yours　tried　to　give　you　an　acid　bath。”
“Yes；　but　I　broke　free。”
“And　if　Steel　Toe　had　done　the　same；　he’d　have　found　his　way　back　to　us；　like　you　did。　What’s
up　with　you；　Lorenzo？　You’ve　lost　comrades　before。”
Lorenzo　didn’t　say　anything。　How　could　he　articulate　the　pain　he’d　felt；　like　a　body　blow；　when
Greiss　had　called　off　the　search？　That　terrible　moment　when　his　last　hope　had　been　snatched　from
him。　The　sergeant　was　right；　he　had　lost　comrades　before—you　couldn’t　fight　the　Emperor’s　war；
nor　grow　up　on　Catachan；　without　seeing　death　on　a　regular　basis；　becoming　inured　to　it　almost。　But
it　was　different　this　time。　Different；　because　he　could　hear　Dougan’s　words　in　his　head：　“I’m
counting　on　you；　Lorenzo。”
He　had　let　Dougan　down。　He　had　let　them　all　down。　Lorenzo　had　been　given　his　chance　to　be　a
hero；　at　last；　and　he’d　failed。　He　had　seen　what　happened；　just　a　couple　of　times；　to　Jungle　Fighters
who　lost　the　trust　of　their　squad。　It　was　as　if　they　weren’t　there；　as　if　they　didn’t　exist。　And　he　had
felt　no　sympathy　for　those　wretches。　In　this　environment；　if　you　didn’t　have　the　trust　of　your
comrades；　you　had　nothing。　Lorenzo　would　be　as　invisible　to　the　others　as　he　had　been　to　Marbo。
“I　can’t　help　wondering；”　said　Sergeant　Greiss　as　they　trudged　back　to　the　campsite　emptyhanded；
“how　you　did　it。”
“Did　what？”　asked　Lorenzo。
“Broke　the　spell。　Brought　yourself　to　your　senses　before　you　took　the　big　plunge。　I　mean；　no
disrespect　to　Steel　Toe；　God…Emperor　rest　his　soul；　I’d　have　said　he　was　as　strong…willed　as　any　of
us—but　you’re　the　one　who　made　it　back。”
“I　don’t　know；　sergeant。　I　just　don’t　know。”
“Must’ve　taken　some　force　of　mind。　You　know；　some　of　the　others　and　me；　we　were　talking—
figured　you　were　about　due　your　earned　name。”
“No！”　said　Lorenzo；　firmly。　“Not　for　this；　sergeant。”
Greiss　nodded；　and　Lorenzo　suddenly　realised　that　the　grizzled　sergeant　knew　what　he　was
feeling；　and　understood。　He　hadn’t　lost　the　sergeant’s　trust。　Quite　the　opposite—Greiss　didn’t　blame
him　for　losing　Dougan　because　he　trusted　him；　because　he　knew　Lorenzo　had　done　all　he　could　and
that　few　among　them　could　have　done　better；　not　even　a　veteran　of　Dougan’s　experience。
Lorenzo　felt　ashamed；　now；　for　not　trusting　him—for　believing　that　his　squad　would　turn　their
backs　on　him；　when　he　should　have　known　them　better。　He　swore　he’d　make　it　up　to　them。　His　tread
felt　just　that　little　lighter　as　he　and　Sergeant　Greiss　walked　on。　They　wouldn’t　talk　about　it　again。
The　commissar　was　in　a　foul　mood。
He　hadn’t　recognised　Armstrong’s　Catachan　call；　so　he　and　Braxton　had　been　searching　alone　in
the　wrong　area　all　this　time。　Mackenzie　blamed　Armstrong　personally　for　this；　but　Woods　had　leapt
to　his　defence　and　a　row　had　broken　out。　As　Lorenzo　and　Greiss　arrived；　Mackenzie　was　jabbing　a
finger　into　Woods’　chest；　yelling　almost　hysterically　about　how　he　had　almost　died　because　of　the
Jungle　Fighters’　negligence。
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“I　was　attacked　out　there—by　the　biggest　jungle　lizard　you’ve　ever　seen！　It　dropped　from　a
branch；　right　onto　my　shoulder。　It’s　only　because　of　Braxton’s　quick　thinking　and　keen　aim　that　I’m
here　to　tell　the　tale。”
Lorenzo　hid　a　smile；　imagining　Mackenzie’s　expression　as　his　adjutant　was　forced　to　shoot　the
lizard　from　his　shoulder。　Woods　was　less　polite；　and　just　laughed。　Armstrong　turned　to　Braxton　and
congratulated　him。　“I’m　not　sure　I　could’ve　hit　such　a　small　target。”
The　commissar　was　already　scowling；　but　before　Mackenzie　could　give　vent　to　his　anger　again；
Greiss　marched　forward；　his　fists　clenched；　a　scowl　on　his　face。　“I’ll　tell　you　what　I　told　your
sergeant　back　at　the　encampment；　commissar；”　he　growled。　“You　have　a　problem　with　my　men；　you
bring　it　to　me。”
Mackenzie　squared　up　to　him；　his　nostrils　flaring。　“And　what　good　would　that　have　done；
Greiss？　You’ve　demonstrated　repeatedly　that　you　can’t　keep　your　squad　in　line。　We’ve　wasted　the
best　part　of　the　morning　looking　for　two　of　your　men—contrary　to　my　explicit　wishes—because
they　decided　to　go　for　a　stroll　in　the　night。”
“And　I　suppose　your　Validians　would　have　stayed　put？”　sneered　Greiss。
“My　Guardsmen　know　better　than　to　follow　pretty　lights　into　the　jungle；　sergeant。　That’s
because　they’ve　been　taught　self…control！　If　Trooper　Dougan　couldn’t　hold　himself　in　check；　then
we’re　better　off　without　him。”
Greiss’　voice　was　low；　but　the　threat　it　carried　was　unmistakeable。　“Don’t　push　me；　commissar。
I’ve　just　lost　a　good　man；　who　deserved　better　than　to　be　taken　down　without　a　scrap。　I’m　in　no
mood　for　this　right　now。”　He　handed　his　lasgun　to　Woods；　who　received　it　without　comment。
Mackenzie’s　eyes　bulged。　“Well；　I　don’t　have　to　wonder　where　troopers　like　Woods　and
Armstrong　here　learn　their　impudence！”　he　stormed。　“I’ve　had　enough；　Greiss。　I’ve　had　enough　of
this　attitude　of　yours—of　having　my　every　order　questioned　by　you。　As　far　as　I’m　concerned；　you
aren’t　fit　to　lead　a　squad　of　dung　beetles；　and　I’ll　be　saying　as　much　in　my　report！”
Greiss　drew　his　Catachan　fang；　weighed　it　in　his　hands　for　a　second；　then　handed　it　to　Woods。
“In　the　meantime。”　Mackenzie　continued；　“you　will　consider　yourself　demoted　to　the　rank　of
trooper。　Guardsman　Braxton　will　be　my　second…in…command　for　the　duration　of　this　operation。”
It　was　obvious　from　the　paling　of　Braxton’s　face　that　he　was　anything　but　happy　with　this
sudden　promotion。
Greiss　shucked　off　his　pack　and　rolled　up　his　sleeves；　slowly　and　deliberately。　Mackenzie　was
still　ranting　as　if　he　hadn’t　seen　what　was　coming。　It　occurred　to　Lorenzo　that；　had　he　been　here；
Dougan　would　have　been　the　one　to　step　in；　to　defuse　the　situation。　But　then；　Dougan　had　always
known　what　needed　to　be　said；　and　how　to　make　it　sound　polite　and　reasonable。　No　one　would　have
thanked　Lorenzo　for　interfering；　so　he　held　his　tongue。
Greiss’　first　punch　took　the　commissar　by　surprise。　It　snapped　his　head　around；　staggered　him
and　almost　made　him　lose　his　balance。　It　wasn’t　that　Mackenzie　hadn’t　seen　the　signs；　Lorenzo
realised—it　was　just　that　he’d　hardly　been　able　to　conceive　of　a　subordinate　actually　striking　him。
Even　now；　his　first　thought　was　for　his　lost　dignity。　He　was　steadying　himself；　pulling　himself　up　to
his　full；　unimpressive　height；　drawing　breath　to　remonstrate　with　Greiss；　when　a　second　fist
connected　squarely　with　his　jaw。
This　time；　Mackenzie　fell；　flipping　almost　head　over　heels　to　land　on　his　back；　losing　his　peaked
cap。　Greiss　planted　his　boot　on　the　commissar’s　chest　and　leered　down　at　him。　“That’s　for　what　you
said　about　Steel　Toe！”　Then　he　took　his　foot　away　and　turned　his　back　in　a　gesture　of　utmost
contempt。
Lorenzo　thought　it　was　over—until　Mackenzie　did　the　last　thing　he　had　expected。　He　sprang　to
his　feet；　and　with　a　speed　and　ferocity　that　Lorenzo　would　never　have　credited　to　him；　he　leapt　at
Greiss。
Greiss　heard　him　coming　and　half…turned；　as　Mackenzie　cannoned　into　his　side。　Jungle　Fighters
danced　out　of　their　way　as　they　careened　back　and　forth；　shifting　their　grips　on　each　other；　each
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looking　for　a　clear　shot　at　the　other。　Greiss　found　one　first；　and　delivered　a　punishing　blow　to
Mackenzie’s　stomach；　which　doubled　him　up　and　brought　his　chin　within　striking　distance。　Woods
let　out　a　passionate　“Yes！”　as　a　two…fisted　uppercut　left　the　commissar　stunned　and　reeling。　Greiss
bore　his　opponent　down　into　the　dirt；　but　Mackenzie　recovered　and　planted　a　foot　in　the　sergeant’s
stomach；　flipping　him　over　and　away　from　him。　Woods　winced　as　Greiss　landed　hard—and　then
Mackenzie　was　on　top　of　him；　and　it　was　all　Greiss　could　do　to　fend　off　his　punches。
The　rookie；　Landon；　looked　to　Armstrong　with　concern　in　his　eyes；　but　he　just　shook　his　head：
No。　We　stay　out　of　it。
Greiss　had　caught　Mackenzie’s　wrist　in　his　left　hand。　He　planted　his　right　arm　across　the
commissar’s　throat；　protecting　his　head　from　Mackenzie’s　free　fist　with　his　elbow。　He　pushed　up
with　both　knees。　Mackenzie’s　eyes　were　almost　popping　out　of　their　sockets　as　he　fought　to　retain
his　position。　He　was　good—far　better　than　Lorenzo　would　have　imagined—but　Greiss　was　better。
He　knew　his　body；　every　muscle　in　it；　like　he　knew　his　Catachan　fang。　He　knew　when　to　tense；
when　to　push；　when　to　shift　unexpectedly　so　that　Mackenzie　reacted　to　an　absent　force　and　unseated
himself。
Slowly；　inexorably；　Greiss　gained　the　advantage；　and　their　positions　were　reversed。　Greiss　had
the　commissar　pinned　now；　his　arm　resting　across　Mackenzie’s　windpipe；　his　eyes　blazing　with
ruthless　zeal　as　he　pressed　down　hard。　Mackenzie　kicked　and　scrabbled　at　the　arm　that　was　choking
him；　but　Greiss　wasn’t　giving　a　millimetre。　“Braxton；”　the　commissar　spluttered。
Braxton　had　almost　started　forward　once　already；　but　he’d　been　frozen　by　a　glare　from　Storm。
Now；　he　took　Sergeant　Greiss’　arms　in　a　nervous　grip；　glancing　over　his　shoulder　as　if　he　expected
the　rest　of　the　Jungle　Fighters　to　stop　him。　He　was　able　to　tear　the　sergeant　away　from　his　opponent
only　because　Greiss　chose　not　to　resist　him。　He　let　Braxton　haul　him　to　his　feet；　then　threw　off　the
Validian’s　hands　and　brushed　himself　down；　glaring　at　the　prone　Mackenzie　as　if　challenging　him　to
a　second　round。
Mackenzie　was　having　enough　trouble　trying　to　breathe。　As　soon　as　he　could；　he　lifted　a
trembling　finger　to　point　at　Greiss—a　feeble　attempt　to　assert　some　authority—and　he　wheezed；
“I’ll　have　you　court…martialled　for　this；　Greiss。　If　you　thought　Trooper　Dougan　died　an　undignified
death；　just　you　wait。　You’ll　end　your　days　in　front　of　a　firing　squad！　If　we　weren’t　on　radio　silence；
I’d　be　voxing　a　squad　of　Validians　to　come　and　collect　you　right　now。　And　the　rest　of　you…　You
just　stood　there　and　watched　while　this　man　assaulted　a　senior　officer。　You’ll　pay　for　this；　all　of　you。
When　I　make　my　report；　you’ll　pay　dearly。　You’ll　be　an　example　to　every　damn　Jungle　Fighter　in
the　Imperial　Guard！”
Mackenzie　picked　himself　up　and　marched　into　the　jungle；　with　a　curt　order　to　the　Jungle
Fighters　to　follow　him。　Braxton　looked　around　as　if　he　wanted　to　say　something；　then　thought　better
of　it　and　hurried　after　his　commissar。　The　others　gathered　their　equipment；　Myers　and　Storm
hoisting　Muldoon　between　them；　and　set　off　in　their　own　time。　Lorenzo　caught　the　looks　that　passed
between　the　others—Greiss　and　Woods　in　particular—and　he　suppressed　a　shiver。
Somehow；　he　doubted　the　commissar　would　ever　make　that　report。
The　going　was　easier　than　it　had　been　the　day　before；　and　the　squad　made　good　progress　though
they　were　in　sullen　spirits。　They　were　starting　to　get　the　measure　of　Rogar　III。　They　knew　which
plants　to　avoid—and　the　flower　sap　they’d　been　careful　to　reapply　to　their　skin　kept　the　biting
insects　away。　More　jungle　lizards　tried　to　pounce　on　them　from　the　trees；　like　the　one　that　had
attacked　Mackenzie—evidently；　this　was　their　latest　trick—but　the　Catachans　were　forewarned；　and
it　became　a　sport　to　them　to　pick　off　the　creatures　with　las…fire　in　midair。　Myers　was　the　champion
of　this　game；　of　course。
Braxton　broke　the　silence　to　express　his　admiration　at　the　speed　with　which　the　Jungle　Fighters
had　adapted　to　their　new　environment。　It　was　an　attempt　to　build　bridges；　but　it　fell　on　stony　ground。
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If　there　were　any　birds　left　in　the　vicinity；　they　were　keeping　a　low　profile。　Lorenzo　didn’t　hear　a
single　call。　But　the　memory　of　the　creatures　that　had　pressed　their　attacks　beyond　death　hung　over
the　squad　like　a　pall。
There　was　some　good　news；　though。　Muldoon　had　come　round　again；　and　this　time　he　was　quite
lucid。　Myers　and　Storm　continued　to　support　him　for　some　time　after　he’d　started　to　complain　that
he　could　walk　unaided。　They　fed　him　simple　questions　until　they　were　sure　he　was　in　control　of　his
faculties。　Muldoon　had　no　memory　of　anything　after　he’d　disturbed　the　hive；　so　Storm　had　to　fill
him　in　about　his　attack　on　Lorenzo。
“I　can’t　have　been　trying　too　hard；”　he　commented。　“I　seem　to　have　left　him　in　one　piece。”
Lorenzo　turned　to　him　with　a　grin。　“You’re　just　lucky　I　was　going　easy　on　you；　because　you
were　an　invalid。”
“Ha！　If　I　hadn’t　been　holdi