Death World(科幻战争)-第22章

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decapitated　the　snake　with　his　fang　before　it　could　land　and　reorient　itself。　He　stamped　on　its
severed　head；　exploding　it　in　a　mass　of　black　blood。　He　grabbed　the　twitching　body；　wrung　it　until　it
was　still；　and　tossed　it　aside　into　the　dark。　A　quiet；　discordant　hiss　of　alarm　told　him　that　his
message　had　been　received　by　multiple　unseen　onlookers。　The　jungle　grass　swayed　and　rustled　in　a
dozen　thin　paths　away　from　him。
It　was　shortly　after　that　that　he　came　across　the　first　trap。
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Lorenzo　had　known　it　was　imminent；　because　the　undergrowth　in　this　area　was　flattened；　plants
and　branches　broken。　The　orks　had　been　here；　and　recently。
The　trap　was　crude　and　obvious；　like　most　of　their　constructs：　a　cord　stretched　between　trees　at
knee　height；　connected　to　something　hidden　in　the　lower　branches　of　one。　A　grenade；　most　likely。
Still；　a　Guardsman　in　a　hurry　might　not　have　spotted　it。　It　was　more　evidence　of　the　warboss’
cunning；　spreading　to　his　followers。
Lorenzo　stepped　over　the　tripwire　carefully；　and　waited。　Thirty　seconds　passed　before
Muldoon’s　head　peeked　out　of　a　bush　a　few　metres　behind　him。　He　saw　Lorenzo；　and　an　inquisitive
expression　crossed　his　face。　Lorenzo　indicated　the　wire；　Muldoon　would　probably　have　seen　it
anyway；　but　better　safe　than　sorry。　Muldoon　nodded；　then　waited　for　Lorenzo　to　regain　his　lead。
Alone　again。
The　second　tripwire　was　higher；　and　better　placed。　To　its　right；　the　jungle　was　dense　with　poison
creepers—and　Lorenzo　knew　that　that　way　lay　the　acid　swamp　of　which　Sly　Marbo　had　spoken。　To
the　left：　a　cluster　of　red　snapper　flowers；　through　which　he　could　see　no　safe　route。　Again；　his
inability　to　use　his　lasgun　narrowed　his　options。　Bad　enough　to　be　grabbed　by　those　intractable
petals—but　the　greater　peril　would　be　the　flowers’　alarm　wail；　certain　to　attract　attention。
He　approached　the　wire；　and　stooped　beside　it　gingerly。　It　was　too　high　to　step　over。　He　could
disarm　the　trap：　cut　the　wire　or　retrieve　the　grenade　from　the　tree。　The　risk　in　so　doing　would　be
minimal；　but　actual。　If　an　ork　or　a　gretchin　came　this　way　after　the　Jungle　Fighters　had　passed；　it
would　know　they　had　been　here。
No。　Far　better；　far　safer；　to　take　no　chances。　To　go　under。
Lorenzo　lowered　himself　onto　his　stomach；　noting　that　the　ground　was　a　little　soft；　a　little　wet。
He　removed　his　pack　and　his　lasgun　from　his　back；　to　reduce　his　prone　height；　and　pushed　them
under　the　wire　before　him。　Then　he　dragged　himself　through　the　mud　on　his　elbows；　keeping　his
head　down。
He　had　plenty　of　clearance。　So　long　as　nothing　unexpected　happened；　so　long　as　he　didn’t　get
careless；　he　had　nothing　to　worry　about。
So　long　as　nothing　unexpected　happened…
The　blue　light　snapped　on　like　a　shipboard　lighting　panel；　just　ignited　into　a　glowing　ball　ahead
of　him；　a　few　centimetres　off　the　ground。　Lorenzo　felt　his　stomach　tighten　as　he　craned　his　neck　to
look　at　it　without　raising　his　chin。　He　sensed　that　it　was　calling　to　him；　urging　him　to　stand　and
approach　it；　and　he　felt　the　muscles　in　his　arms　and　legs　tensing　to　obey。
He　stopped　himself；　before　his　back　could　brush　the　tripwire。
He　closed　his　eyes；　and　immediately　felt　better。　His　head　was　clearer。　Lorenzo　listened　to　his
own　breathing；　and　he　felt　the　cold　of　the　mud　against　his　stomach。　He　thought　about　Steel　Toe
Dougan。　He　knew　the　blue　light　was　still　out　there；　but　he　was　certain　it　hadn’t　entered　his　mind。　He
was　certain　that　it　couldn’t；　so　long　as　he　didn’t　look　at　it。
But　what　if　the　blue　light　wanted　that？　What　if　its　purpose；　this　time；　was　to　blind　him　to
something　else？　To　something　creeping　up　on　him…
…something　rustling　in　the　undergrowth　beside　his　head…
Lorenzo　opened　his　eyes；　as　breathless　and　disconcerted　as　he　had　been　after　his　nightmare。　He
looked　around　quickly；　but　saw　nothing。　Nothing　but　the　blue　light；　drawing　his　eyes　in　like　it　was
the　only　thing　in　the　world。　The　only　thing　that　mattered；　anyway。　It　occurred　to　Lorenzo　that　it　was
closer　than　it　had　been　last　night；　that　this　time　he　really　could　catch　it；　catch　whatever　it　was　that
was　generating　it。　End　its　threat。　Save　his　comrades。
In　the　blue　light；　Lorenzo　saw　Sergeant　Greiss’　approval；　so　rarely　bestowed。　Yet；　in　his
memory；　he　heard　his　voice：　“I’m　trusting　you　up　front　alone…　If　it　comes　back；　you　can　resist　it；
right？”
Greiss　was　counting　on　him。
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“Right？”
Lorenzo　remembered　how　determined　he　had　been　to　prove　himself　worthy　of　Old　Hardhead’s
trust；　not　to　let　him　down　again。　He　knew　the　only　way　to　do　that　was　to　obey　his　orders；　to　do　what
he’d　promised　he　would　do…　“Right？”
“Right；　sergeant。”
To　resist。　That　was　Lorenzo’s　greatest　ambition；　what　he　wanted　most　at　this　moment；　and　so—
as　a　part　of　him　was　only　dimly　aware—that　was　what　the　blue　light　showed　to　him；　and　in　so　doing
it　defeated　itself。　Lorenzo　blinked；　and　the　light　was　still　there；　but　suddenly　it　was　just　a　light；　and　it
had　no　hold　over　him。
Still；　he　stayed　where　he　was　for　a　moment　longer；　exploring　the　crannies　of　his　mind；　ensuring
there　was　no　trace　of　the　blue　light　left　in　there。　Ensuring　that　he　wasn’t　being　tricked　again。　He
concentrated　on　what　he　remembered；　what　Greiss　had　told　him—and　he　reassured　himself　that；　as
long　as　he　heeded　those　words；　those　explicit　instructions；　he　would　be　doing　the　right　thing。
Lorenzo　dug　his　elbows　into　the　mud　and　pulled　himself　forward　again；　until　he　was　clear　of　the
ork　tripwire；　then　he　climbed　to　his　feet　and　collected　his　belongings。　The　blue　light　was　gone。
Blinked　out。　As　if　it　had　sensed　it　had　no　power　here　anymore。　Somehow；　Lorenzo　knew　it　wouldn’t
be　back。　Not　for　him。　He　realised　something　else　too：　that　his　hands　were　stinging。
He　looked　down；　saw　that　his　palms　were　red　and　beginning　to　blister。　He　had　been　so　wrapped
up　in　his　thoughts；　in　the　light；　that　he　hadn’t　noticed。　The　wet　ground。　Acid。　It　must　have　seeped
from　the　nearby　swamp。　The　knees　of　his　trousers　had　almost　burnt　through；　and　the　soles　of　his
boots　had　begun　to　melt。　Not　much　harm　done　yet；　but　in　time…
Lorenzo　cleaned　his　hands　on　a　leaf；　and　waited　for　Muldoon　to　appear　again。　This　time；　once
he’d　pointed　out　the　tripwire；　he　beckoned　him　forward。　Greiss　came　too；　holding　up　a　hand　to　halt
the　troopers　behind　him。
“I　think　we　need　to　bear　a　little　further　north；”　whispered　Lorenzo；　displaying　his　damaged
boots。
“That’ll　take　us　closer　to　the　orks。”　Muldoon　pointed　out。
But　Greiss　looked　down　at　his　own　feet；　and　scowled。　“Lorenzo’s　right。　No　point　our　finding
Big　Green　if　we’re　all　walking　on　bloody　stumps　by　the　time　we　do。”　Then；　with　grudging
admiration；　he　conceded；　“Mackenzie　was　right　about　that　greenskin。　Building　his　camp　on　the　edge
of　the　swamp；　making　the　best　of　the　natural　defences—he’s　a　clever　bastard；　all　right。”
The　encampment　was　even　closer　than　Lorenzo　had　estimated。
Almost　as　soon　as　he　changed　his　course；　he　found　himself　at　the　edge　of　a　clearing；　a　little
smaller　than　the　Imperial　Guard’s；　crammed　with　ramshackle　buildings　of　metal　and　wood。
He　lay　and　watched　it　for　a　while；　scrutinising　each　shadow　until　he　was　sure　of　its　nature；　until
he　knew　it　wasn’t　an　enemy　waiting　in　ambush。　He　studied　the　ork　huts；　familiarising　himself　with
their　layout；　with　every　blind　corner　from　which　an　ork　or　a　gretchin　could　spring　out　at　him　as　he
passed。　He　saw　no　sentries—which　worried　him；　because　he　knew　there　would　be　sentries。
Somewhere。
At　last；　Lorenzo　glanced　behind　him；　saw　his　squad　waiting；　gave　them　a　thumbs…up　signal　and
moved　on。　He　moved　on　slowly—almost　painfully　so；　knowing　that　stealth　was　more　imperative
now　than　ever。　A　single　thin　line　of　trees　separated　him　from　the　orks。　He　had　to　make　maximum
use　of　the　scant　cover　he　had—and　he　had　to　be　sure　he　didn’t　make　the　slightest　sound。
It　seemed　to　take　an　age　for　him　to　reach　that　first　danger　point；　that　first　gangway　between　two
huts；　to　be　able　to　edge　forward　and　peer　down　it；　to　reassure　himself　that　it　was　empty。　It　seemed　to
take　an　age—although　he　knew　it　had　only　been　a　few　minutes。　But　Lorenzo　wasn’t　impatient。　He
lived　for　moments　like　this。
There　was　something　in　the　trees　ahead　of　him。
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He　froze。
It　was　taller　than　a　man；　but　hunched；　enormous　arms　hanging　down　to　its　knees；　its　shoulders
broad　and　muscular。　It　was　wearing　dulled　armour—and；　although　the　darkness　made　it　difficult　to
pick　out　colours；　the　skin　that　showed　through　the　metal　plates　had　a　decidedly　green　tint。
The　ork　didn’t　seem　to　be　trying　to　hide。　Lorenzo　wondered；　for　a　heart…stopping　moment；　if　it
was　searching　for　him；　if　it　had　heard　something。　Any　closer；　and　he　feared　it　might　catch　his　scent。
Then　it　turned　away　from　him；　grunting　as　it　fumbled　with　its　protective　metal　layers；　and　he
realised　it　had　only　come　out　here　to　relieve　itself。　Lorenzo　would　never　find　an　enemy　more
exposed；　more　helpless；　he　could　attack　it　from　behind；　wrap　a　cord　around　its　throat　and　strangle　it。
But　orks　were　a　sturdy　breed；　and　it　would　certainly　have　struggled　loudly　as　it　died。　Reluctantly；　he
let　it　be—and　when　it　had　done　its　business；　the　ork　shuffled　away　and　faded　into　the　shadow　of　a
metal　hut。
Lorenzo　crept　forward　again。　He　stepped　over　another　tripwire；　and　waited　to　point　it　out　to
Muldoon。　Glancing　ahead；　he　saw　that　he　was　almost　there；　almost　past　the　camp。　Maybe　they’d　call
him　“Sneaky”　Lorenzo。　No；　he　wasn’t　sure　he　liked　that。　“Shadow”　Lorenzo？　“Sly”　Lorenzo？
Voices。
They　were　hushed—but　against　the　muted　sounds　of　the　night；　they　sounded　unnatural；　harsh
and　as　loud　as　las…fire　discharges。
He　thought　one　of　the　voices　belonged　to　Greiss。　There　was　an　urgent　tone　to　it；　almost　a　plea。
Lorenzo　looked　to　the　ork　camp；　certain　that　the　voices　must　have　carried　that　far；　but　nothing　was
stirring。　Not　yet。　He　ached　to　know　what　was　happening；　but　he　knew　he　ought　to　maintain　his
position。　He　sheathed　his　knife　and　fingered　his　lasgun；　ready　to　draw　it　if　necessary。
The　explosion　caught　him　totally　unawares。
The　night　erupted　into　daylight；　too　quickly；　too　shockingly；　for　Lorenzo　to　avert　his　gaze；　to
protect　his　night　vision。　He　was　half　blinded。
But；　as　the