Death World(科幻战争)-第7章

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Lorenzo’s　squad　had　been　the　last　to　learn　its　assignment—and　its　ten　men　had　let　out　a　cheer
when　Mackenzie　had　explained　that　it　was　the　most　vital；　and　most　dangerous；　of　all。　The
commissar　had　shouted　at　them　to　be　silent。
“One　particular　ork　has　been　giving　us　trouble；”　he　had　said。　“Their　current　warboss　in　this
region。　You　know　how　it　is—we　take　out　one；　another　takes　its　place。　But　this　one　has　a　few　more
brain　cells　than　most。　The　troops　have　taken　to　calling　him　Big　Green。　He’s　actually　got　the　beasts
organised；　to　an　extent。　Their　last　few　raids　on　us　were　almost　well　planned。　And　this　ork　has　a　keen
sense　of　self…preservation。　Most　warbosses　lead　from　the　front；　this　one　stays　behind　the　lines。　He’s
become　a　legend　to　the　orks；　if　only　because　he’s　lasted　longer　than　his　predecessors。　He’s　good　for
their　morale。　Too　good。　I　want　him　dead！”
According　to　the　commissar；　the　Imperial　Guard　had　been　close　to　finding　the　warboss’　hideout
when；　in　his　own　words；　“the　jungle　became　impassable”。　They　knew　its　general　location；　but　the
lair　itself　was　well　concealed。　The　Catachans’　job　was　to　find　the　ork　warboss　and　do　the　necessary
deed。　A　stealth　mission；　a　single　assassination。　Sounded　simple；　Lorenzo　thought。
Then；　Mackenzie　had　thrown　a　spanner　in　the　works。
“Given　the　importance　of　this　mission；”　he　had　said；　“I　will　be　leading　it　myself。　Silence！”　he
bellowed　in　response　to　the　Catachans’　howls　of　protest。
Sergeant　Greiss；　who　a　moment　earlier　had　sported　a　broad　grin　on　his　face；　now　looked　as　if　he
had　been　slapped。　“With　respect；　sir；”　he　had　growled；　“you　aren’t　a　Jungle　Fighter。　Better　if　the
men　take　their　orders　from　someone　used　to—”
“Contrary　to　popular　belief；　sergeant。”　Mackenzie　had　sneered；　“they　do　teach　us　to　do　more
than　sit　around　and　drink　amasec　in　officer　training。　I　am　fully　qualified　in　jungle　warfare—and
more　importantly；　in　command。　Now；　I’m　sure　your　style　of　leadership　is　adequate　for　charging　at
the　enemy　with　your　bayonets　fixed—but　this　is　to　be　a　precision　strike。　For　that　to　work；　I　need…”
He　raised　his　voice　to　speak　over　the　growing　grumbles　of　dissent。　“I　need　a　well…drilled；　efficient
squad　of　men；　who　know　what’s　expected　of　them　and　plaint。
With　respect；　sergeant；　I　doubt　you　can　provide　that。”
Lorenzo　wasn’t　looking　forward　to　serving　under　Mackenzie。　Still；　he　wouldn’t　have　swapped
this　assignment　for　any　other。　He　felt　proud　at　the　thought　that　Colonel　Graves　might　have
recommended　his　squad　above　all　others—although　he　wasn’t　kidding　himself。　He　knew　that；　if　they
had　been　recommended；　it　would　have　been　for　Greiss’　experience　or　the　distinguished　war　records
of　Dougan　and　Armstrong。　Chances　were；　the　colonel　didn’t　even　know　Lorenzo’s　name。　Anyway；
it　seemed　more　likely　that　Mackenzie　had　made　the　choice　himself；　probably　just　for　the　opportunity
to　laud　it　over　Greiss。
The　Catachans　had　insisted　on　providing　their　own　night　watch；　to　the　chagrin　of　the　Validians
already　standing　sentry　over　the　camp。　Lorenzo　had　volunteered　for　the　duty；　but　he　hadn’t　been
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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　tha