Gunheads(科幻战争)-第63章

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“Do　it；”　said　Wulfe；　“and　may　the　Emperor　guide　your　shot！”
Beans　stamped　on　the　floor　trigger。
Last　Rites　II　shuddered　as　exploding　propellant　burst　from　her　muzzle　brake。　The　shot　zipped
straight　in　towards　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance。　Wulfe　held　his　breath；　praying　that　the　ork　leader
would　disintegrate　in　a　shower　of　blood　and　bone　shards。
The　shot　curved　low　and　smacked　straight　into　the　Baneblade’s　turret　instead。
Another　massive　armoured　plate　fell　away；　revealing　more　of　the　black　and　gold　that　lay
underneath。
The　reaction　on　the　vox　was　immediate。　Wulfe　heard　General　deViers　screeching　at　the　top　of
his　voice。　“Who　fired　that　shot？　Identify　yourself　at　once。　You　are　disobeying　a　direct　order　from
your　general！”
Wulfe　was　about　to　respond　when　another　voice　cut　in。　It　was　Major　General　Bergen。
“Frak　it！”　said　Bergen。　“This　is　a　direct　order　from　10th　Division　Command。　All　tanks；　open　up
on　that　monstrosity　with　everything　you　have。　We　won’t　lose　anyone　else　to　it。　You　hear　me？　Fire　at
will。”
Wulfe　knew　that　the　general’s　orders　overrode　Bergen’s；　but　he　wasn’t　about　to　let　that　stop　him。
“Siegler；　load。　Beans；　do　what　you　do　best；　son！”
Thunderclaps　echoed　from　the　rusting　metal　walls　all　around　as　the　surviving　tanks　of　the　10th
Armoured　Division　blasted　the　bastardised　Baneblade　with　everything　they　had。　Fire　blossomed　all
over　it　and　heavy　pieces　of　armour　spun　away　in　all　directions。
“Stop！”　yelled　deViers　over　the　vox；　but　nobody　was　listening。　“I　command　you　to　stop！”
The　Adeptus　Mechanicus　also　added　their　protestations；　overriding　the　Cadian　vox…comms　to
issue　warnings　of　their　own；　but　to　no　avail。
Again　and　again；　the　tanks　fired。　More　and　more　of　the　true　shape　of　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance
was　revealed。　Then　one　shot　struck　the　raging　warboss　that　stood　atop　the　turret。　There　was　a　sudden
burst　of　bright　blue　light　and　a　loud　cracking　sound　as　the　energy　field　generated　by　the　warboss’
armour　straggled　to　absorb　the　blast。　Against　lesser　weapons　like　lascannons；　it　might　have　held
indefinitely；　but　it　simply　wasn’t　powerful　enough　to　repel　the　sheer　force　of　a　tank　round　impacting
at　full　velocity。　The　field　collapsed　and　the　beast’s　right　arm　vanished　completely　in　a　fine　red　mist。
The　warboss　staggered　and　looked　sideways　at　the　ragged；　bleeding　stump　of　flesh　with　an
expression　of　slack…jawed　disbelief。　That　was　when　a　second　round；　an　armour…piercing　shell　from
Captain　Immrich’s　Vanquisher；　Firemane；　struck　it　dead　centre　in　the　torso。　The　round　punched
straight　through　the　ork’s　power　armour；　blew　its　guts　out　its　back；　and　blasted　it　from　its　feet。
A　great　cheer　went　up　from　the　Cadian　soldiers；　and　they　rallied　for　the　third　time　that　day。
Wulfe　marvelled　at　them。　He　knew　how　tired　they　were；　but　they　were　Cadians；　all　of　them。　They
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would　rather　die　of　exhaustion　than　give　up　the　fight。　It　was　their　planetary　heritage；　this　discipline
and　strength。
“Cease　fire；”　shouted　deViers　again。　“Cease　fire；　at　once！”
The　tankers　stopped　firing。　The　Baneblade　still　rumbled　forward；　but　without　their　commander；
the　crew　were　confused　and　lost。　The　ork　foot　soldiers　were　distracted　by　the　sound　of　the　Cadian
cheer　and　turned　to　find　that　their　warboss　had　been　slain。　Without　his　overwhelming　strength　and
dominance；　the　unity　of　the　ork　force　collapsed。　Old　factions　that　had　once　been　rivals　were
suddenly　free　to　wage　war　against　each　other　again；　and　the　entire　force　fell　into　absolute　and
immediate　disarray。　Greenskins　began　hacking　and　firing　at　other　greenskins　just　as　fiercely　as　they
were　fighting　with　the　Cadians。　It　didn’t　take　the　Guardsmen　long　to　capitalise　on　this。
The　clashing　of　heavy　blades　and　the　barking　of　large　calibre　stubbers　and　pistols　gradually　gave
way　to　the　ordered　crack　of　las　and　hellgun　volleys。
Within　the　hour；　the　sounds　of　fighting　died　off　altogether。
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CHAPTER　THIRTY…FIVE
“Get　those　men　down　from　there；”　deViers　stormed。　“Get　back　all　of　you。　Damn　your　eyes；　I’d　have
some　of　you　shot　but　for　the　fact　that　we　have　our　prize　at　last。　Gruber；　give　me　that　vox…amp　unit。
And　you　there！　Yes；　you。　Help　me　up　at　once。”
A　young　trooper　bearing　the　insignia　of　the　110th　Mechanised　Regiment　gave　General　deViers　a
boost　up　onto　the　track…guards　of　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance。
Kasrkin　storm　troopers　had　already　popped　her　hatches　and　slaughtered　her　greenskin　crew；　and
her　engines　had　stopped　rumbling。　She　stood　still　and　silent　as　the　general　climbed　up　to　stand　on
the　top　of　the　turret。　It　had　been　a　pulpit　once；　a　place　from　which　Commissar　Yarrick　had　given　his
rousing　speeches　to　Imperial　troops　before　leading　them　into　battle。　DeViers　could　feel　it　now；　all
that　glory　settling　on　his　shoulders　like　a　fine　heavy　cloak。　He　glanced　down　at　the　body　of　the
warboss　where　it　lay　on　its　back。
Disgusting　beast；　he　thought。
The　stench　from　its　innards　made　his　nose　crinkle；　but　it　would　take　much　more　than　that　to　ruin
the　moment。　He　turned　and　faced　out　towards　the　ordered　ranks　of　troopers。　There　were　so　damned
few　of　them。　Had　he　really　started　all　this　with　over　twenty　thousand　men？　The　losses　seemed
incredible；　but　Yarrick　had　demanded　victory　at　any　cost。　DeViers　had　held　to　that　remark；　and　now
he　had　his　victory。
He　saw　Magos　Sennesdiar　and　his　tech…adepts　moving　towards　the　front；　their　robes　stained　dark
at　the　hem　by　all　the　blood　that　soaked　the　ground。
DeViers　lifted　the　microphone　of　his　vox…amp　unit　and　began；　“Men　of　Exolon　and　of　the
Adeptus　Mechanicus；　let　us　always　remember　this　day。　It　has　taken　time；　resources　and　the　sacrifice
of　many　of　our　Cadian　brothers　to　make　this　dream　a　reality。　But　here　we　stand；　victorious；　and　the
greatest　prize　in　all　the　Imperium　of　Man　is　finally　in　our　hands。　I　stand　upon　it；　and　I　feel　its　holy
spirit　all　around　me：　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance；　a　holy　relic　the　likes　of　which　few　men　could　ever
hope　to　see。　Come　forward　if　you　wish。　Lay　your　hands　on　it。　Feel　its　holy　spirit　wash　over　you　and
inspire　you。　Even　in　this　wretched　state；　desecrated　by　our　enemies；　robbed　of　its　true　glory；　it　still
exudes　a　power　that　surely　embodies　something　of　the　Emperor　Himself。”
On　he　went；　talking　of　a　glory　that　would　never　be　forgotten。　He　believed　every　word　that　came
out　of　his　mouth；　and　the　strength　of　his　conviction　convinced　many　of　the　men　who　listened。
Caught　up　in　the　moment　with　all　those　eyes　fixed　on　him；　all　those　ears　hanging　on　his　every
word；　General　deViers　didn’t　hear　the　scrape　of　metal　on　metal。
He　didn’t　know　anything　was　wrong　until　he　felt　hot；　stinking　breath　on　the　back　of　his　neck。
His　blood　ran　cold　as　ice　and　he　moved　to　turn；　but　it　was　a　motion　he　never　finished。　The　ork
warboss　was　barely　alive；　able　to　stand　only　by　virtue　of　a　central　nervous　system　that　had　been
developed　to　work　through　indescribable　levels　of　physical　pain；　that；　and　the　all…consuming　hatred
it　felt　for　weak；　pathetic　humans。
It　closed　its　remaining　power　claw　around　the　general’s　middle　and；　with　the　briefest　twitch　of
its　fingers；　cut　the　man　in　half。
Colonel　Stromm　of　The　Fighting　98th　was　in　the　front　row；　standing　just　a　few　metres　in　front　of
the　Baneblade’s　hull。　He　was　moving　before　the　general’s　upper　body　tumbled　sideways　from　the
turret。
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“Kasrkin！”　he　yelled　to　his　men　as　he　tore　his　hellpistol　from　its　holster。　Together；　he　and　his
storm　troopers　began　blazing　away　at　the　giant　swaying　ork。
It　shuddered　as　it　was　peppered　with　searing　shots。　Then　it　fell　backwards　again。
The　firing　stopped。
Magos　Sennesdiar　wasted　no　time。　He　surged　forward；　leaping　onto　the　front　of　the　Baneblade
with　an　agility　that　was　totally　at　odds　with　his　bulk。　His　adepts　immediately　climbed　up　after　him。
As　they　hurried　onto　the　top　of　the　turret；　Armadron　said；　
　said　Xephous。　
Sennesdiar　was　the　first　to　reach　the　body　of　the　ork。　The　creature　was　breathing　no　more。　There；
around　its　tree…trunk　neck；　he　saw　a　glimmer　of　green　and　gold。
The　fragments　he　told　his　adepts。　
　his　adepts　intoned　together。
“Is　the　damned　thing　dead？”　asked　a　gruff　voice。
Sennesdiar　quickly　tugged　the　fragment　from　around　the　warboss’　neck；　breaking　the　leather
cord　that　held　it　there；　and　hid　it　within　the　deep　folds　of　his　robe。　Then　he　rose　and　turned　to　face
the　speaker。
“Colonel　Stromm。　The　ork　leader　no　longer　lives。　Adepts；”　he　said；　addressing　his　subordinates
in　Low　Gothic；　“it　is　time　we　launched　our　beacon。”
Together；　the　three　Martian　priests　climbed　down　from　The　Fortress　of　Arrogance；　and　strode
towards　their　Chimera；　passing　Major　Generals　Bergen；　Killian　and　Rennkamp　on　the　way。　All　three
men　looked　drawn　and　exhausted；　and　they　were　speechless　as　the　tech…priests　passed。
When　Sennesdiar　was　within　a　few　metres　of　them；　he　said；　“One　of　our　lifters　can　be　expected
to　arrive　within　the　hour；　major　generals。　My　servitors　will　tend　to　the　Baneblade；　but　I　suggest　we
all　make　haste　in　our　preparations　to　leave。　Golgotha　is　still　home　to　a　vast　population　of　orks。
Tarrying　too　long　could　prove　to　be　a　grave　mistake。”
The　magos　moved　off；　but　he　had　only　gone　about　ten　metres　when　Bergen　called　out　to　him。
“Sennesdiar；”　he　said。　“Tell　me；　will　you　answer　a　question？”
Sennesdiar　turned。　“Ask　it。”
Bergen’s　eyes　were　hard。　“Did　you　get　what　you　were　looking　for？”
The　magos　paused　for　the　briefest　instant；　and　Bergen　found　himself　imagining　that；　had
Sennesdiar　still　possessed　a　face　capable　of　it；　he　would　be　wearing　a　smile。
“Didn’t　we　all？”　said　the　magos。　Then　he　turned　and　moved　off　again。
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CHAPTER　THIRTY…SIX
The　sky　was　turning　from　red　to　murky　brown。　It　would　be　night　soon；　but　Wulfe　and　the　others
wouldn’t　be　here　to　see　it。　They　were　leaving。　What　remained　of　the　18th　Army　Group’s　vehicles
had　already　been　rolled　or　towed　up　the　ramps　and　into　the　gaping　holds　of　the　Mechanicus　lifter。
On　the　battlefield；　the　fires　had　gone　out　in　most　of　the　wrecks。　Men　moved　among　the　dead；
collecting　dog　tags　from　the　necks　of　their　fallen　brothers；　and　retri