Gunheads(科幻战争)-第14章

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luckless　animal　or　with　rings　or　bars　of　metal。　Their　mouths　were　huge　and　slack；　gaping　wide　and
dripping　with　thick　strands　of　blood…tinged　saliva。　Those　jaws　were　large　enough；　in　some　cases；　to
close　over　a　grown　man’s　head；　and　each　was　crammed　full　of　short；　jutting；　knife…like　teeth
dominated　by　two　long；　curving　tusks　that　thrust　upwards　from　the　lower　mandible。
Few　things　Stromm　had　ever　gazed　upon　engendered　such　a　feeling　of　loathing　and　disgust。　The
ork　race　seemed　tailor…made　to　strike　fear　into　the　human　heart；　tapping　an　ancient　vein　of　primal
fear　shared　by　all。　It　was　as　if　the　least　worthy　traits　of　his　own　species　had　been　twisted　and
magnified　a　thousand　times；　and　given　monstrously　powerful　bodies　with　which　to　wage　their
bloody　and　incessant　war　on　Man。
Where　had　such　abominations　come　from？
Stromm’s　order　to　fall　back　to　secondary　positions　had　filtered　down　to　the　rank…and…file；　and　he
saw　men　leap　from　sandy　foxholes　and　sprint　back　towards　him。　Many　left　it　too　late。　He　shouted　in
frustration　as　he　watched　them　cut　down　by　sprays　of　ork　stubber…fire。　It　was　a　brutal　and　bloody
sight。　The　large…bore　weapons　made　a　real　mess　of　their　victims；　barking　as　loud　as　any　bolter；
throwing　massive　metal　slugs　out　in　every　direction。　The　orks　barely　bothered　to　aim；　spraying　fire
left　and　right　without　a　thought　for　accuracy　or　wasted　ammunition。　It　was　only　the　sheer　volume　of
fire　that　took　such　a　deadly　toll。　As　the　Cadians　raced　back　to　the　inner　defences；　many　fell
screaming；　great　ragged　holes　punched　into　their　backs；　exit　wounds　the　size　of　watermelons
exploding　from　their　chests　and　stomachs。　Others；　more　fortunate　only　in　that　they　suffered　less；
were　struck　in　the　back　of　the　head。　Even　good；　solid　Cadian　Mark　VIII　helmets　couldn’t　protect
them。　Their　skulls　practically　exploded　with　the　impact　of　the　heavy　ork　slugs；　and　their　headless
bodies　stumbled　and　fell；　gushing　crimson　on　the　sand。
To　the　last　man；　thought　Stromm；　gritting　his　teeth；　firing　back　until　another　cell　was　spent。
We’ll　die　here；　but　we’ll　fight　the　bastards　to　the　last　bloody　man。　Damn　you　deViers！　I　hope　you
get　your　bloody　glory。
“Artillery；”　someone　shouted　over　the　vox。　“Ork　artillery　coming　in　from　the　north。　Get　down！”
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Stromm　heard　a　nerve…rattling　whistle　on　the　air；　growing　to　a　shriek。
Closer。　Closer。　Damn　it；　that’s　going　to　hit　right　on　top…
Both　he　and　Kassel　threw　themselves　to　the　ground。　Great　plumes　of　sand　and　dust　spurted　into
the　air　between　the　Cadians　and　the　orks；　and　the　air　shook　with　a　deafening　boom。　Stromm　found
himself　still　breathing。　No　fatalities。　It　was　a　ranging　shot；　but　the　next　would　bring　death　down　on
the　shrinking　Cadian　force。
“That’s　them　bringing　up　the　big　guns；　sir；”　shouted　Kassel　as　he　scrambled　to　his　feet。
“You　don’t　say；　Hans！”　barked　Stromm。　“Tell　those　spacer　runts　in　the　las…turrets　that　I　want
focused　fire　on　that　artillery。　Those　Navy　dogs　are　the　only　ones　with　a　clear　line　of　sight。　Do　it；
man！”
Kassel　plucked　the　mouthpiece　of　his　back…mounted　vox…caster　from　the　clip　on　his　belt；　barked
out　the　colonel’s　orders　in　a　clear；　authoritative　voice　and　waited　for　confirmation。　He　needn’t　have
bothered。　The　turret…gunners　atop　the　crumpled　drop…ship　were　already　traversing　their　turrets　to
zero　in　on　several　massive　ork　machines　—　self…propelled　guns　that　were　emerging　from　a　dust
cloud　about　fifteen　hundred　metres　away。　The　SPGs　had　short；　fat　barrels　that　sacrificed　accuracy
for　a　higher　explosive　payload。　Their　construction　appeared　so　slapdash　they　looked　as　likely　to
blow　themselves　apart　as　to　flatten　their　enemies。　By　rights；　they　shouldn’t　have　worked　at　all；　but；
as　ever　with　greenskin　machines；　their　performance　defied　their　appearance。　With　great　coughs　of
flame　and　ground…shaking　booms；　they　launched　another　deadly　salvo；　this　time　aimed　squarely　at
the　las…turrets　that　had　begun　to　open　fire　on　them。
Most　of　the　heavy　artillery　shells　went　wide　of　the　mark；　whining　straight　past　the　wreck　and
exploding　in　the　sand　on　the　far　side。　Most；　but　not　all。　Two　struck　the　hull；　packed　with　so　much
explosive　that；　between　them；　they　ripped　the　super　structure　apart。　The　pressure　wave　that　sped　out
from　the　twin　blasts　pulverised　the　turrets　and　the　men　inside　them。
Stromm　stood　gaping　for　a　split　second　at　the　terrible　destruction；　and　then　shielded　his　head　as　a
shower　of　burning　debris　cascaded　towards　him。　By　the　Emperor’s　grace；　neither　he　nor　Kassel　were
struck；　but　a　young　trooper　on　the　right　fell　without　screaming；　his　head　caved　in　by　a　turnip…sized
chunk　of　heavy　armaplas。
“Try　to　raise　them；”　Stromm　yelled　at　Kassel；　already　knowing　in　his　heart　that　it　was　futile。
Kassel　tried。　Nothing。
“Again；　Hans。　We　can’t　lose　them　now。　If　they　can’t　knock　out　those　SPGs　we　won’t　last
another　minute！”
“Nothing；”　said　Kassel。　He　tried　a　third　time　with　the　same　result。　“They’re　gone；　sir。”
“For　Throne’s　sake！　The　next　bloody　salvo　will　do　for　us。　Can’t　we　get　any　of　our　heavy
weapons　on　them？　What　about　our　mortar　teams？　They’re　all　we　have　left　that　doesn’t　need　line　of
sight。”
Kassel　immediately　tried　to　raise　the　mortar　teams　on　the　vox；　but　there　was　no　reply；　just
hissing　static　and　the　sure　knowledge　that　more　men　had　died。
“Sir；　we　need　to　get　you　away　from　here。　Those　green…skin　gun…crews　won’t　take　long　to　reload。
We　should　get　you　into　one　of　the　Chimeras。　The　Kasrkin　might　be　able　to　open　a　corridor。”
“If　you　suggest　that　to　me　ever　again；　Hans；　I’ll　pistol…whip　you。　Do　you　hear　me？　You　should
know　better　by　now。　I’ve　never　run　from　a　field　of　battle　in　my　life。”
“I…　Sorry；　sir。”
“Sod　your　apologies；　man。　Just　keep　shooting。　We’ll　make　a　proper　accounting　of　ourselves
before　the　end。　Get　the　word　out。　The　Fighting　98th　makes　its　last　stand　for　the　honour　of　Cadia！”
“The　Fighting　98th　forever；　sir！”　said　Kassel；　thrusting　out　his　chest。　Determination　replaced　the
fear　in　his　eyes。　If　they　were　to　die；　it　would　be　as　only　Cadian　men　could　die；　strong　and　true；　and
unrelenting　to　the　very　last。　The　Emperor　would　welcome　their　souls　to　his　glorious　hall。　Their
places　at　his　table　would　be　assured。
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The　outer　defences　were　swarming　with　xenos；　all　jostling　for　a　chance　to　revel　in　the　slaughter
of　Stromm’s　men。　They　pushed　and　shoved　each　other　for　better　position；　desperate　to　claim　more
kills　than　their　fellows。　They　were　so　frantic　with　battle…lust　that　savage　brawls　began　to　break　out
here　and　there　among　their　ranks。　Stromm　saw　one　of　the　beasts　—　spike…helmed　and　heavily
armoured；　its　dark　skin　textured　like　burned　steak　—　turn　to　a　marginally　smaller　monstrosity　on　its
right　and　begin　wrestling　with　it；　trying　to　prise　a　large　axe　from　its　grasp。　The　smaller　ork　resisted
until　the　larger　rammed　the　point　of　a　huge；　rust…pitted　knife　right　into　its　belly　and　unzipped　it　from
sternum　to　crotch。　Thick　blood　poured　out；　followed　by　a　tumble　of　looping　intestines　that　glistened
pink　as　they　slid　out　onto　the　sand。　Then；　with　the　newly　won　axe　in　hand；　the　big　one　bellowed　a
battle　cry　and　continued　its　advance；　eager　to　enter　close…quarters　combat　where　it　could　engage　in
bloody　slaughter。
It　took　six　men　firing　lasguns　at　close　range　to　put　that　bastard　down。
By　Terra；　thought　Stromm；　they’re　insane！　Death　means　nothing　to　them。　Whether　we　have　men
like　Yarrick　or　not　—　whether　we　had　a　thousand　Yarricks；　a　million　even　—　how　can　humanity
hope　to　hold　back　the　savage　tide？
In　Stromm’s　earpiece；　the　vox…chatter　from　his　surviving　platoon　leaders　had　degenerated　into　a
cacophony　of　panicked　shouts。　The　gap　was　closing　ever　further。　Once　the　fighting　went　hand…tohand；
it　would　be　over　for　the　Cadians。　Nothing　could　save　them　then。
“We’re　losing　the　inner　defences。　The　bolter…nests　are　being　overrun！”
“What　do　we　do？　Fall　back　to　the　drop…ship？　They’re　hammering　it　with　artillery！”
“I　need　heavy　weapons　support　on　our　right　flank；　warp　damn　it！　Get　me　mortars。　Get　me　a
heavy　bolter。　Anything！”
Stromm　heard　the　words　as　if　from　a　great　distance。　A　strange　and　unexpected　sense　of　calm　had
descended　on　him。　All　around；　the　air　was　churning　with　noise　and　heat；　whining　bullets　and
cracking　las…fire；　but；　in　his　mind；　everything　was　supremely　clear。　The　end　of　his　lifelong　duty　to
the　Emperor　was　at　hand。
One　more　time；　he　allowed　his　thoughts　to　return　to　his　family　up　there　on　The　Incandescent；
and　said　a　silent　prayer　to　the　Emperor：
May　my　wife　remember　me　proudly；　and　may　our　son’s　achievements　exceed　my　own。　To　the
Emperor’s　side；　I　commend　the　souls　of　my　men；　and　I　ask　Saint　Josmane　to　be　our　guide。
“Hans；”　he　said；　“the　regimental　banner。”
“It’s　here；　sir。”
“Then　unfurl　it；　soldier；　and　give　it　to　me。”
“At　once；　sir；”　said　Kassel；　and　leapt　to　the　task。
Stromm　holstered　his　smoking　hellpistol　and　accepted　the　heavy　banner　from　his　adjutant。
Gripping　its　haft　with　both　hands；　he　stepped　forward；　calling　to　his　men　as　he　waved　it　majestically
in　the　hot；　dusty　afternoon　air。
“Rally　to　me；　Cadians；”　he　shouted　over　the　din　of　battle。　“Rally　to　me；　troopers！　No　more
falling　back。　Here　and　now；　we　make　our　stand！”
The　banner　was　a　striking　icon　of　gold　and　red。　The　pillared　symbol　of　the　Cadian　gate
dominated　its　centre　and；　on　either　side　of　it；　the　image　of　a　grinning　skull　held　a　single　stalk　of
wheat　between　its　teeth。　The　wheat…stalk　symbolised　the　regiment’s　glorious　victory　at　Ruzarch
Fields　during　the　infamous　Battle　of　Vogen　nearly　half　a　century　before。　Had　the　regiment　survived
General　deViers’　Golgothan　expedition；　another　symbol　of　honour　would　have　been　added：　a
stylised　cloud　and　lightning　bolt。
The　men　close　enough　to　hear　his　voice　turned　to　see　their　colonel　standing　there；　the　banner
snapping　and　fluttering　as　he　waved　it　over　his　head。　He　looked　like　an　image　from　a　propaganda
poster；　and　their　spirits　burned　with　fresh　pride。　Stromm　could　see　it　as　he　looked　into　their　eyes。　He
saw　the　fires　of　determination　surging　there；　the　will　to　die　fighting。
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“Honour　and　glory！”　shouted　a　sergeant　off　to　the　right。
“Honour　and　glory！”　bellowed　his　squad。