Death World(科幻战争)-第29章

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Braxton　accepted　the　claw；　and　turned　it　over　in　his　hands。　He　admired　its　well…honed　edge；　and
gauged　how　light　and　well　balanced　it　was　thanks　to　its　hollow　blade；　half…filled　with　mercury。
“Yes；　sergeant；”　he　said；　in　a　voice　full　of　awe。
“I　can　see　now　why　you　think　so　much　of　him；”　said　the　Validian；　when　he　and　Lorenzo　were　alone
together。　Greiss　and　Armstrong　were　still　some　way　behind；　laying　mines；　and　Myers　and　Storm　had
taken　this　opportunity—while　their　progress　was　impeded—to　fall　back　and　hunt　jungle　lizards　and
anything　else　they　deemed　edible。　Lorenzo　and　Braxton　were　left　with　the　repetitive　and　wearying
work　of　swinging　their　knives；　forging　ahead—though　Lorenzo　had　to　admit；　it　was　going　a　lot
faster　now　that　Braxton　was　properly　equipped。
“Who？”　he　asked。
“Sergeant　Greiss。”
“Of　course　we　do。　He　wouldn’t　have　that　rank　if　he　hadn’t　earned　the　respect　of　all　of　us。”
“I　didn’t　realise。　At　first；　he　seemed—I　don’t　know—surly；　I　guess。　Distant。　Disapproving。”
“If　you’re　looking　for　a　soft　approach；”　said　Lorenzo；　“I’m　afraid　Catachan　doesn’t　breed　’em
like　that。”
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“I　guess　not。　But　now　I’ve　seen　Greiss　in　action—the　way　he　leads　from　the　front；　keeps　this
squad　together；　keeps　us　focused　on　the　mission。　And　the　way　he…　I　mean；　he　really　does　care
about　his　troopers；　even　if　he　doesn’t　always…”
“He’d　give　his　life　for　us；”　said　Lorenzo　simply；　“as　we　would　for　him。　Your　point　is？”
“I’m　used　to　sergeants　who　do　things　by　the　book；　that’s　all。　Same　with　the　commissar。　If
Mackenzie　had　survived；　if　he　could　see　Greiss　now…”
“If　he’d　been　willing　to　look；”　said　Lorenzo　pointedly。
“Yes。　I　just　think；　Mackenzie；　he　was　like　most　of　us。　We　don’t　know　till　we　see　for　ourselves。　I
can’t　imagine　what　it　must　have　been　like　for　you；　for　Greiss；　for　all　of　you；　being　brought　up　on　a
world　like　this。　A　deathworld。　But　I’m　starting　to　understand；　and　Mackenzie—I　think　he　would
have　understood　too；　in　time。”
“You　don’t　think　he’d　have　filed　his　complaint　against　Old　Hardhead？　You　don’t　think　he’d
have　had　him　shot？”
“We’ll　never　know；”　said　the　Validian。　“Best　thing；　I　think；　is　to　let　it　lie。　I　certainly　won’t　be
saying　a　thing。”
Lorenzo　was　about　to　agree　when　he　spotted　something。　A　triangle。　Silver。　He　could　easily　have
mistaken　it　for　an　exotic　leaf；　lying　flat　against　a　branch；　had　the　pattern　not　connected　with
something　in　his　memory。　A　warning。　Braxton’s　knife　hand　was　moving　towards　it；　and　Lorenzo
batted　it　away　even　before　his　conscious　mind　remembered　what　the　pattern　represented。　The
triangle　wrinkled；　as　a　snake　head　jerked　out　from　beneath　it　and　made　a　stab　at　where　the　hand　had
just　been。
“I　think　we　should　both　talk　less；”　said　Lorenzo；　“and　pay　more　attention　to　where　we’re　going。”
Braxton　nodded。　But　it　wasn’t　long　before　he　spoke　up　again。　“I　just　wondered；”　he　said；　“if　I
should　say　something。　To　the　others。　Let　them　know。　That　they　can　trust　me；　I　mean。”
Lorenzo　smiled　tightly。　“They　know。　Old　Hardhead　in　particular。”　He　indicated　the　devil　claw　in
Braxton’s　hand。　“Trust　me；　he　knows。”
Then　Greiss　and　Armstrong　came　pelting　towards　them；　sweeping　Myers　and　Storm　along　in
their　wake。
They　had　barely　come　to　a　halt　when　a　series　of　explosions　from　behind　them　rattled　the　ground
and　shook　leaves　from　their　branches。　The　trap　had　been　sprung。　Greiss’　cruel　grin　exposed　his　teeth
and　flared　his　nostrils。　They　all　waited　for　a　minute；　listening　for　the　shuffling　footsteps　of　zombies；
squinting　through　the　rain　for　the　shape　of　an　ork；　but　there　was　nothing。
And；　a　few　minutes　after　that；　Braxton　found　a　trap。　A　snare　in　the　undergrowth；　ready　to　tighten
about　the　ankle　of　an　unwary　traveller　and　hoist　him　into　the　trees。　A　sign；　Lorenzo　agreed　when　the
Validian　pointed　it　out　to　him；　that　orks　had　been　here。　Crafty　orks。　Then　he　inspected　the　snare
more　closely。　It　was　fashioned　from　creepers—but；　far　than　having　been　knotted　together　by　hand；　it
seemed　to　have　grown　into　its　unnatural　shape。
“Rogar’s　still　learning；”　he　murmured　as　Braxton　used　his　devil　claw　to　slice　through　the　snare。
“It’s　learning　from　us。”
They　forged　on　well　into　the　night；　making　up　for　their　late　start；　until　Lorenzo’s　body　wanted
nothing　more　than　to　shut　down。　He’d　been　running　on　adrenaline；　but　now　even　this　was　spent。　The
acid　rain　hadn’t　let　up；　and　despite　his　precautions　Lorenzo’s　face　and　neck　were　red　raw。　The
wound　in　his　side　felt　like　it　was　ablaze。　He　had　begun　to　wonder　if　Sergeant　Greiss　would　ever　call
a　halt　to　this　torture；　though　of　course　he　would　never　have　complained。
At　last；　Greiss　accepted　that　even　his　squad　needed　rest。　He　warned；　however；　that　they　didn’t
have　much　time。　He　intended　to　move　out　early　in　the　morning—and　until　then；　the　Jungle　Fighters
would　have　to　keep　watch　in　three　shifts　of　two　in　case　the　blue　light　returned。
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For　the　first　time；　Lorenzo　didn’t　volunteer　for　first　watch。　Greiss　detailed　Myers　and　Storm　to
that　duty；　and　Lorenzo　was　grateful　to　be　placed　on　the　third　and　final　watch　with　Armstrong；
possibly　in　deference　to　the　fact　that　both　were　wounded。　Only　as　they　set　up　camp—positioning
their　plastic　sheeting　not　to　collect　water　tonight　but　to　deflect　the　rain—did　he　realise　how　tired　the
sergeant　himself　looked。
They　built　the　biggest；　hottest　fire　they　could；　despite　the　risk　that　it　might　be　seen。　They　did　it　to
spite　what　they　now　saw　to　be　their　real　enemy：　Rogar　III。
Lorenzo　was　asleep　almost　before　his　head　touched　the　ground。　But　it　seemed　like　his　eyes　had
only　been　closed　a　minute　when　the　shouting　began。
He　thought　he　was　dreaming　again；　at　first。　That　dream　from　the　previous　night；　before　the　ork
camp；　when　dead　comrades　had　pulled　him　down　into　the　earth　to　join　them。　Only　this　time　it　was
real；　and　it　was　the　earth　itself　that　pulled　at　him。　Lorenzo　was　already　half…buried；　he　tried　to　stand；
to　tear　himself　free；　but　he　couldn’t　gain　leverage　and　the　pull　of　the　earth　only　increased。
Quicksand？　He　was　sinking；　though　the　ground　had　been　perfectly　firm　when　he　had　lain　down
on　it。　He　fought　the　urge　to　lash　out；　because　he　knew　he　would　only　go　down　faster。　Somebody　was
shouting　his　name；　yelling　at　him　to　wake；　and　the　rain　was　still　drumming　on　the　plastic　sheets
above　his　head；　searing　them　brown。
This　was　worse　than　quicksand。　Lorenzo　knew　how　to　deal　with　quicksand；　knew　how　hard　it
was　to　actually　drown　in　it；　but　this—this　was　Rogar　III　itself；　grasping　at　him；　drawing　him　to　its
heart。　His　first　instinct　was　to　unsheathe　his　Catachan　fang；　though　he　had　no　use　for　it　yet；　because
if　his　legs　went　under　he　didn’t　want　to　lose　it　with　them。
With　a　supreme　effort；　he　raised　his　head。　The　strong　and
Myers　had　been　caught　sleeping　too；　and　were　being　sucked　under。　Greiss　and　Braxton　were
standing　but　buried　up　to　their　knees；　it　must　have　been　their　watch　when　the　planet　had　struck。　It
was　Braxton　who　had　shouted；　presumably　unable　to　see　from　where　he　was　that　Lorenzo　had
already　woken。　There　was　no　sign　of　the　campfire：　it　must　have　been　pulled　under　and　smothered。
Storm　was　doing　better　than　any　of　them。　He　was　on　his　hands　and　knees　in　the　mud；　but　pulling
himself　along　with　his　powerful　muscles；　almost　swimming；　his　teeth　clenched；　face　red　with
exertion；　until　he　came　to　the　edge　of　the　Catachans’　small　clearing　and　his　flailing　hand　caught　a
tree　branch。　He　had　something　to　hold　on　to　now；　and　he　could　begin　to　haul　himself　upright。
Lorenzo　was　determined　to　follow　Storm’s　example。　But　suddenly；　the　earth　beside　him　seemed
to　explode；　and　he　recoiled　and　sank　a　little　further　as　a　figure　erupted　from　beneath　it。　A　large；
hunched　figure　with　tusks　protruding　through　a　matted　layer　of　plants　and　dirt。　An　ork　zombie。
And　there　were　more　of　them；　bursting　from　the　ground　all　across　the　clearing；　outnumbering
the　Jungle　Fighters　and　surrounding　them。　In　contrast　to　their　floundering　targets；　they　waded　easily
through　the　mud；　their　ponderous　gait　now　seeming　only　too　fast。
The　nearest　zombie　loomed　over　Lorenzo；　and　raised　both　fists　above　its　head　as　it　prepared　to
strike　him　dead。
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CHAPTER　FOURTEEN
Lorenzo　brought　up　his　right　hand；　his　knife　hand；　to　protect　his　head；　and　tried　to　do　the　same　with
his　left；　but　the　earth　had　it。　He　pulled　at　it；　and　brushed　something　below　the　surface：　a　familiar
shape。　He　wrapped　his　fingers　around　it；　feeling　like　he　e　until　they　closed
around　hard　metal。　With　a　gut…wrenching　effort；　he　brought　his　hand；　and　his　lasgun；　tearing　out　into
the　open　and　braced　the　weapon　in　both　hands　above　his　face。
The　ork　zombie’s　blow　landed；　hit　the　gun；　and　Lorenzo　felt　the　vibrations　juddering　through　his
bones　and　thought　he’d　lost　another　lasgun；　thought　it　would　snap　in　two；　but　somehow　it　remained
intact。　He　realised　that　his　shoulders　were　in　the　earth　again；　the　impact　and　his　own　efforts　driving
him　downwards。
The　zombie　was　preparing　to　strike　again；　and　Lorenzo　turned　the　lasgun　around　and　pulled　the
trigger；　but　it　jammed。　Mud　in　the　barrel。　He　could　just　reach　the　zombie’s　leg　with　the　tip　of　his
knife；　and　he　slashed　at　it；　scoring　a　groove；　but　it　didn’t　react。　The　quagmire　was　sucking　at　the
back　of　his　head；　caressing　his　ears　with　cold　tendrils。
He　couldn’t　beat　the　monster。　The　best　he　could　hope　for　was　to　keep　it　from　killing　him　long
enough　for　the　planet　to　take　him；　to　fill　his　nose　and　mouth　with　its　substance　and　suffocate　him。
He　couldn’t　beat　the　monster。　So　he　stopped　fighting　it。
A　clump　of　flowers　protruded；　ridiculously；　from　the　zombie’s　thigh；　and　Lorenzo　strained　to
reach　them；　trusted　them　to　support　his　weight　as　he　hauled　himself　up；　mud　slurping　and　sucking　at
him　but　losing　the　contest　of　strength。　With　both　hands　full；　holding　his　lasgun；　his　knife　and　the
flowers；　he　couldn’t　defend　himself　against　another　double…fisted　blow　to　the　back　of　his　stooped
head。　He　took　it　with　gritted　teeth；　blinded　for　a　moment　as　he　almost　blacked　out。　He　felt　as　if　his
skull　must　have　cracked。　Then　he　felt　the　flowers　give　way；　their　roots　torn　clean　out　of　the
zombie’s　earthen　flesh。
Lore