Death World(科幻战争)-第1章

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《Death　World（科幻战争）》
作者：＇英＇Steve　Lyons【完结】



Synopsis　（英文书籍文案）　

A　squad　of　Catachan　Jungle　Fighters　is　sent　to　the　deathworld　of　Rogar　III　in　response　to　an　ork　incursion。　But；　as　well　as　dealing　with　the　orks；　they　must　do　battle　the　planet　itself　…　not　to　the　mention　the　mysterious　figures　that　stalk　them　across　the　deadly　terrain。
The　troops　go　to　war　in　the　Gothic　battle…barges　of　the　Empire。　They　deal　with　the　inept　and　sometimes　corrupt　Imperium　commanders。　Horror　exists　at　every　turn……from　the　dangers　of　the　corrupting　warp　to　the　attack　of　zombies　in　the　night。




CHAPTER　ONE
As　soon　as　he　woke；　Trooper　Lorenzo　knew　there　was　something　wrong。
He　rolled　to　his　feet；　simultaneously　drawing　his　fang。　He　crouched　in　silence；　in　the　dark；　ready
to　drive　half　a　metre　of　Catachan　steel　into　the　heart　of　any　man　or　beast　that　thought　it　could　sneak
up　on　him。
But　Lorenzo　was　alone。
He　turned　on　the　light；　suppressing　a　prickling；　creeping　feeling　as　he　realised　again　just　how
close　the　walls　of　his　basic　cabin　were。　And　beyond　those　walls…
Lorenzo’s　bed　was　undisturbed：　he　preferred　the　floor；　though　even　this　was　too　flat　for　his
liking。　He　could　feel　the　beginnings　of　a　stiff　neck。　All　the　same；　he　had　slept　for　almost　five　hours。
Longer　than　usual。　Warp　space　did　that　to　him。　Out　there；　beyond　the　adamantium　shell　of　the　ship
that　carried　him；　there　was　nothing。　But　the　warp　itself　distorted　space　and　time；　and　that　played　hell
with　Lorenzo’s　instincts—and　his　body　clock。
His　brain　itched。　He　was　tired；　but　he　knew　he　wouldn’t　sleep　again　now。　He　cursed　his
weakness。　His　tiredness　would　make　him　less　alert。　In　the　jungle；　it　could　mean　the　difference
between　life　and　death。
Lorenzo　was　safe　here；　in　theory。　No　enemies　of　the　Imperium　lurked　in　the　shadows。　No
predators　to　sneak　up　on　him　as　he　slept；　unguarded。　Only　the　warp　itself　to　worry　about；　and　the
possibility　that　it　might　capriciously　tear　the　ship　and　its　occupants　apart—and　there　was　nothing　he
could　do　about　that　if　it　happened。　Nothing　anyone　could　do。
They　said　no　one　but　the　Navigators　could　look　into　the　warp。　They　said　it　would　drive　a　normal
man　insane。　Still；　Lorenzo　wished　he　could　take　that　chance。　He　wished　the　ship　had　windows；　so　he
could　face　his　enemy　and；　perhaps；　begin　to　understand　it　as　the　Navigators　did。
Lorenzo　had　been　in　the　thick　of　a　space　battle　once。　He　had　sat　inside　a　cabin　like　this　one；
gripping　the　side　of　an　acceleration　couch　as　he　rode　out　the　Shockwaves　of　near　misses　and
glancing　blows；　his　knuckles　white；　his　life；　his　destiny；　in　the　hands　of　a　ship’s　captain　and　his
gunners—and　of　the　Emperor；　of　course。　He　had　hated　that　feeling　of　helplessness。　He　had　prayed
for　the　attackers　to　board　the　ship；　so　he　could　have　met　them　face　to　face。　When　Lorenzo　died；　he
wanted　the　comfort　of　knowing　he　had　fought　his　best　against　a　superior　foe—and　if　he　had　his　way；
that　foe　would　be　no　mere　space　pirate　or　ork；　but　something　more　worthy　of　his　origins　and
training。
When　Lorenzo　died；　he　wanted　to　be　able　to　salute　his　killer；　and　be　buried　in　its　soil。
He　splashed　a　handful　of　water　on　his　face；　and　ran　a　hand　through　his　tangled　black　hair。　He
threw　on　his　camouflage　jacket；　though　it　would　be　useless　against　the　greys　and　whites　of　the　ship’s
interior。　He　re…sheathed　his　knife；　and　was　comforted　by　its　weight　against　his　leg；　his　Catachan
fang　was　a　part　of　him；　as　much　as　his　limbs　were。　As　unlikely　as　it　was　that　an　attack　would　come；
he　had　learned　always　to　be　prepared。　It　was　when　you　allowed　yourself　to　get　comfortable　that
death　could　strike　unexpectedly。
Somewhere　on　this　ship；　he　was　sure　that　other　members　of　the　company　would　be　awake。　He
could　probably　find　a　card　game。
Lorenzo’s　booted　feet　rang　against　the　metal　floor　as　he　left　his　cabin；　tinny　echoes　returning　to
his　ears。　The　air　was　recycled；　stale；　and　it　didn’t　carry　sounds　in　the　way　that　fresh　air　did。　The
artificial　gravity　e　as　that　of　any　planet　he’d　visited。　And　it　was　quiet—so
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deathly　quiet。　There　were　none　of　the　sounds　of　nature　to　which　Lorenzo　was　attuned；　the　subtle
clues　that　mapped　out　his　surroundings　for　him　and　warned　when　danger　approached。　Instead；　there
was　only　the　faint　throb　of　engines；　the　vibrations　reverberating　through　the　hull　so　their　origin　was
untraceable。
There　was　something　wrong…
Everything　was　wrong。　Man　wasn’t　meant　to　exist　in　this　unnatural　environment。　None　of　its
signs　could　be　trusted；　and　this　made　Lorenzo　uneasy。　If　he　couldn’t　rely　on　his　own　instincts；　what
could　he　rely　on？　“Fear　not　the　creatures　of　the　jungle　but　those　that　lurk　within　your　head。”　The　old
Catachan　proverb　came　to　him　unbidden　and　he　thanked　the　Emperor　that　his　company　had　its　next
assignment。　They　were　already　on　their　way　to　a　new　world；　a　fresh　challenge。
He　didn’t　know　the　details　yet。　Still；　he　had　no　doubt　of　one　thing。　Soon—within　days；　he
hoped—his　squad　would　be　fighting　their　way　across　hostile　terrain　and　through　hostile　creatures；
beset　by　threats　from　all　directions。　It　was　likely　some　of　them　would　die。　He　would　be　in　his
element　again；　his　destiny　returned　to　his　own　hands。
He　ached　for　that　moment。
It　was　early　afternoon；　ship　time；　when　Colonel　“Stone　Face”　Graves　summoned　his　Third　Company
of　the　Catachan　XIV　Regiment　to　the　briefing　room。
The　men　of　four　platoons；　their　bandoliers　slung　across　their　backs；　crowded　into　the　small　area。
Four　platoons；　comprising　twenty…two　squads—including　two　squads　of　Catachan　Devils；　who
stood　near　the　front　and　around　whom　even　the　most　hardened　veterans　left　a　respectful　space。　Then
there　were　the　hulking；　low…browed　ogryns；　included　in　the　briefing　as　a　courtesy　though　they　would
most　likely　understand　only　half　of　what　was　said。　So　long　as　they　were　pointed　towards　the　enemy
and　permitted　to　rend　and　maim；　they　would　be　happy。
Lorenzo　felt　comforted　by　the　presence　of　so　many　compatriots—by　the　press　of　their　bodies
and　the　natural；　earthy　odours　of　dirt　and　sweat。
“Listen　up；　you　soft…skinned　losers；”　barked　the　colonel。　A　howl　of　good…natured　protest　rose
from　the　assembled　company；　but　Graves’　chiselled　features　remained　harsh　and　rigid。　“Naval
Command　think　you　lot　have　had　it　easy　too　long；　and　I　agree　with　them。　I　begged　them：　‘No　more
milk　runs。　I　want　no　less　than　the　dirtiest；　most　dangerous　job　you’ve　got。　I　won’t　have　my　Jungle
Fighters　turning　into　fat；　lazy　sons　of　acid　grubs　who　wouldn’t　lift　a　hand　to　scratch　their　own
arses！’　So；　ladies；　last　chance　to　pamper　yourselves　in　your　luxury　quarters—because　as　of　this
evening；　you’ll　be　working　for　your　keep。”
This　pronouncement　was　met　by　a　rousing　cheer。
“Planetfall　at　19。00　hours；”　the　colonel　continued；　his　voice　loud　and　clear　across　the　tumult
though　he’d　made　no　effort　to　raise　it。　“Anyone　not　in　full　kit　and　waiting　at　the　airlocks　by　18。30
finds　himself　on　punishment　detail　for　a　month！”
“Yes；　sir！”　came　the　answering　swell　from　the　crowd。
“Colonel；”　someone　yelled　from　the　back。　Lorenzo　recognised　the　voice　of　“Hotshot”　Woods；
from　his　own　squad。　“You　serious？　Is　this　going　to　be　a　real　challenge　for　us　this　time？”
“You　idlers　ever　hear　of　Rogar　III？”　growled　Graves。　“It’s　a　jungle　world；　out　in　the　back　of
beyond。　Explorators　found　it　a　couple　of　years　ago；　decided　it　was　right　for　colonising　and　stripmining。
Just　one　problem：　They’d　been　beaten　to　it。　That’s　why　they　called　on　us。　We　have
Guardsmen　down　there　fighting　orks　for　the　past　year　and　a　half；　but　they’re　starting　to　find　it　tough
going。”
Lorenzo　joined　in　the　collective　jeers　of　mock　sympathy。
“They’re　crying　out　for　someone　to　hold　their　hands；”　added　Graves；　to　a　roar　of　laughter。　“You
see；　seems　Rogar　wasn’t　the　walk　in　the　park　they　thought　it’d　be。　Three　weeks　ago；　in　response　to
reports　from　the　front；　the　planet　was　re…categorised　as　no　longer　suitable　for　colonisation…”　He　left
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a　long　pause　there；　but　every　man　present　knew　what　was　coming；　and　anticipation　hung　heavy　in
the　recycled　air。
“…on　account　of　it　being　classified　as　a　deathworld！”　concluded　the　sergeant—and　this　time；　the
cheer　went　on　much　longer　and　louder。
“It’s　a　crock；　that’s　what　it　is。”
Lorenzo　was　sharing　a　mess　hall　table　with　four　other　members　of　his　squad。　He　looked　down　at
his　bowl　gloomily；　and　let　a　dollop　of　over…processed　grey　mulch　slide　from　his　spoon。　Another
thing　he　hated：　Imperial　Guard　rations。　If　he’d　been　planetside；　he’d　have　found　something—some
herb　or　spice—to　make　them　more　palatable。　Or　someone　would　have　hunted　down　some
indigenous　beast；　and　his　squad　would　have　feasted　on　meat。
Lorenzo　considered　not　eating　at　all　until　he　had　made　planetfall。　But　on　top　of　his　disturbed
sleep　patterns；　the　last　thing　he　needed　was　to　let　his　energy　levels　dip。　He　gathered　another
spoonful；　thrust　it　into　his　mouth　and　tried　to　swallow　without　tasting　it。
“Stone　Face　got　it　right；”　continued　Sergeant　“Old　Hardhead”　Greiss　in　his　gravelly　voice。　“This
is　just　another　wet…nursing　mission　for　a　bunch　of　city　boys　who　got　in　over　their　heads。　You　tell
me；　how　can　a　planet　go　from　being　colony　material　one　day　to　deathworld　the　next？　It　can’t
happen！”
“I　don’t　know；　sergeant；”　said　Brains　Donovits；　his　thick　black　eyebrows　beetling　as　his　brow
furrowed。　“I’ve　been　keeping　an　eye　on　the　comms　traffic；　and　the　latest　report　from　the　commissars
on　the　ground　makes　for　pretty　interesting　reading。　They’ve　had　some　real　problems　out　there。”
“Yeah；”　put　in　Hotshot　Woods；　his　blue　eyes　sparkling　as　he　suppressed　a　grin；　“and　you　know
Command　wouldn’t　send　us　in　without　good　reason；　sergeant。　They　know　what　they’re　doing。”
Greiss　shot　the　young　trooper　a　stern　glare　through　narrowed　eyes。　It　only　lasted　a　second；
though；　before　he　dropped　the　pretence　and　let　out　a　bark　of　laughter；　slapping　Woods　amiably　on
the　back。
“It’ll　be　the　same　old　story；”　grumbled　the　grizzled　sergeant　as　his　good　humour　subsided。
“Things　not　going　too　well　at　the　front；　orks　getting　too　close　to　Command　HQ　for　the　top　brass’
liking。　The　next　thing