Death World(科幻战争)-第38章

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grip　on　his　muddied　backpack。　Lorenzo　had　lost　his；　along　with　his　jacket　and　his　bandolier。　Myers
was　rummaging　in　the　pack　before　his　legs　　grinned
behind　his　black　beard　as　his　comrade　produced　a　rope。　He　must　have　woven　it　himself　from　plant
roots；　after　they’d　lost　the　others　at　the　river。
Myers　made　the　throw；　of　course。　The　end　of　the　rope　slapped　into　the　mud　a　centimetre　or　two
from　Greiss’　head；　but　was　absorbed　before　he　could　free　an　arm　to　reach　for　it。　Both　Greiss　and
Braxton　strained　to　move　their　submerged　limbs；　to　find　their　sinking　lifeline；　and　Braxton’s　chin
went　under　and　he　spluttered　again　as　he　took　a　mouthful　of　earth。　Then；　a　tense　moment　later；　the
Validian　yelled　out；　“Got　it！”　and　Myers　and　Lorenzo　pulled　for　all　they　were　worth。
Storm；　in　the　meantime；　had　found　a　branch　that　jutted　out　over　Armstrong’s　position。　He
climbed　up　to　it　and　swarmed　along　it；　the　branch　bending　beneath　his　weight。　Armstrong　raised　his
good　arm；　and　their　fingers　strained　to　find　each　other。
At　last　the　struggle　was　won；　and　six　muddy；　exhausted　soldiers　lay　on　dry　land　and　looked
mournfully　at　the　swamp　that　had　been　their　campsite；　thinking　of　the　precious　kit　they　had　lost　to
its　embrace；　and　of　how　much　more　they　could　have　lost。
They　had　just　three　half…filled　water　bottles　between　them　now；　Lorenzo’s；　Storm’s　and
Armstrong’s　having　gone　down　with　their　backpacks。　The　flamer　could　never　be　assembled　again
without　the　parts　Storm　had　been　carrying。　They　were　just　grateful　that　Myers　still　had　the　power
packs　for　their　lasguns。
But　Lorenzo　felt　most　sorry　for　Armstrong；　because　his　devil　claw　knife　had　been　snatched　from
him。　The　veteran　Jungle　Fighter　looked　devastated　about　that；　far　more　hurt　than　he’d　been　by　his
shoulder　injury。　Braxton　offered　him　Woods’　old　devil　claw；　but　he　just　shrugged　the　Validian
away。　It　wasn’t　the　same。
“I　hate　to　say　this；”　announced　Greiss；　“but　we　need　to　move　on　before　we　can　bed　down　again。”
“You　think　there’s　anywhere　safe　on　this　damned　planet？”　asked　Armstrong；　sullenly。
“I’m　gambling　it　takes　a　good　while　for　Rogar　to　turn　an　area　like　this　into　a　bog；”　said　Greiss；
“else　why　would　it　have　waited　till　now？　In　future；　we’re　just　going　to　have　to　move　between　two　or
three　campsites　a　night；　grab　our　sleep　a　few　hours　at　a　time。”　They　all　saw　the　sense　in　that；　though
it　was　a　disheartening　proposition。
In　the　event；　they　moved　only　a　few　hundred　metres　before　Greiss　gave　the　order　to　start
clearing　the　ground　again。　Lorenzo　and　Armstrong　took　their　watch　while　the　others　slept。
Armstrong　was　poor　company；　sitting　on　a　tree　trunk　and　stared　at　his　own　feet。　Lorenzo；
fortunately；　had　slept　long　enough　to　feel　relatively　refreshed。　He　hoisted　the　protective　plastic
sheets　over　his　comrades’　heads　by　himself；　though　shortly　after　he　had　done　so　the　rain　subsided　at
last。
A　few　silver…backed　snakes　hissed　in　the　undergrowth—but　to　Lorenzo’s　relief；　the　rest　of　the
night　passed　without　incident。
The　next　morning；　the　Jungle　Fighters　had　an　unexpected　visitor。
The　figure　stepped　out　of　the　trees　as　they　were　making　to　move　out—and　instantly；　six　lasguns
were　drawn　and　aimed　at　it。　The　figure　made　no　threatening　move；　however。
Lorenzo　peered　at　it　curiously。　It　was　humanoid　in　shape；　about　his　height　and　build—and　to　an
extent；　it　resembled　one　of　the　ork　zombies；　fashioned　as　it　was　from　Rogar’s　vegetation。　But　this
figure　was　wearing　a　jacket　woven　from　varicoloured　leaves；　and　a　branch　slung　across　its　back
where　the　Jungle　Fighters　kept　their　lasguns；　and　it　even　seemed　to　have　a　face；　wide…eyed　and
grinning；　though　this　was　just　a　pattern　formed—accidentally？—by　the　twisted　stalks　and　plants　that
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ran　through　its　rough；　sculpted　head。　A　thatch　of　straw　was　perched　atop　that　head；　like　a　mop　of
blond　hair。
It　grinned　at　the　Jungle　Fighters　for　a　minute　or　more；　as　they　watched　it　warily。　Then　the　figure
let　out　a　bizarre；　inhuman　noise：　a　series　of　guttural　clicks　and　warbling　vowel　sounds。　Then　it
turned；　and　with　a　clumsy；　rolling　gait　like　it　might　shake　itself　apart；　it　moved　away　from　them；　in
the　direction　they　intended　to　go；　until　its　path　was　blocked。　Then　it　brought　up　an　arm；　jerkily；　and
sliced　it　down；　then　up　and　down　again。
“What　the　hell　is　it　meant　to　be？”　breathed　Myers。
“Best　guess？”　growled　Greiss。　“It’s　meant　to　be　one　of　us。　Look　at　it；　Bullseye！　Pretending　it’s
cutting　its　way　through　the　jungle　like　we’ve　been　doing。”
“I　think　it　was　trying　to　talk。”　Armstrong　said。　“It　was　trying　to　sound　like　us；　imitate　the　noises
we　make；　but　it　doesn’t　understand　language。”
“You　think　we’re　supposed　to　be　taken　in　by　that？”　asked　Lorenzo；　not　sure　if　he　should　be
amused　or　disturbed　by　the　idea。　“We’re　supposed　to　think　that’s　one　of　us；　let　it　join　us；　and—then
what？”
“I　vote　we　don’t　give　it　the　chance　to　show　us；”　said　Myers。
“I’ll　second　that；”　said　Greiss。
Six　lasguns　converged　on　the　unlikely　doppelganger—and　it　whirled　around　to　face　the　Jungle
Fighters；　and　if　Lorenzo　hadn’t　known　better　he　could　have　sworn　it　seemed　surprised。　Then　the
figure　exploded。
Hidden　spines　shot　out　from　its　chest　and　mouth；　like　slender　darts；　and　the　Jungle　Fighters　leapt
for　cover；　and　fortunately　had　kept　enough　distance　between　them　and　the　twisted　effigy　to　avoid
being　struck。　Lorenzo　raised　his　head　to　find　a　dozen　spines　embedded　in　a　tree　beside　him。　More
lay　in　the　grass；　and　he　noted　that　their　needle　points　dripped　with　poison。　Of　the　effigy；　there　was
no　trace　at　all　now。　It　had　fallen　apart；　returned　to　its　constituent　components　and　reclaimed　by　the
jungle；　and　Lorenzo　couldn’t　tell　which　of　the　leaves　and　plants　that　strewed　the　ground　before　them
had　belonged　to　its　mass。
The　second　effigy　showed　itself　almost　four　hours　later；　just　stepping　out　behind　the　Jungle
Fighters　into　the　path　they’d　cut；　greeting　them　with　its　incoherent　warble。　It　didn’t　last　a　second
before　it　was　gunned　down；　falling　onto　its　back　and　shooting　its　poisonous　payload　into　the　sky。
Lorenzo　had　barely　set　eyes　upon　it　before　it　was　gone—but　he　was　left　with　the　distinct　impression
that　this　doppelganger　had　been　more　sophisticated；　a　far　more　accurate　likeness　of　its　template；
than　its　predecessor　had　been。　It　was　about　then　that　they　all　felt　the　first　tremor。
It　had　been　a　quiet　day　by　the　Jungle　Fighters’　standards。　They　had　dealt　with　routine　attacks　by
jungle　lizards；　snakes　and　spitter　plants；　but　nothing　that　had　really　challenged　them。　Since　the
incident　with　the　second　effigy；　they’d　had　no　sense　of　being　followed；　so　it　seemed　that—for　now
at　least—they　were　safe　from　zombies。
As　they　had　progressed；　so　too　had　their　spirits　lightened。　Lorenzo　had　started　to　feel　like　they
had　finally　got　the　measure　of　this　deathworld；　like　Rogar　had　run　out　of　new　ways　to　torment　them
and　accepted　their　mastery　of　it。　It　was　a　good　feeling。　A　reaffirming　feeling。　It　made　their　sacrifices
worthwhile。
They　didn’t　speak　about　the　tremor。　With　luck；　it　had　been　an　isolated　incident—and　the　more
time　passed　without　a　recurrence；　the　more　likely　this　seemed。
Then；　as　the　daylight　began　to　die；　the　jungle　opened　up　again；　and　they　were　able　to　sheathe
their　knives　as　their　passage　through　it　eased。　Shortly　thereafter；　they　uncovered　gretchin　footprints
and　knew　they　were　close　to　their　goal。　They　withdrew　a　short　way；　and　found　a　secluded　spot　in
which　they　could　rest　for　a　time。　The　last　time；　they　all　knew；　before　the　culmination　of　their
mission。　Find　the　ork　warboss　and　take　him　out。　They　were　starting　to　look　forward　to　it　again。
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Greiss　agreed　to　let　them　light　a　cooking　fire；　because　the　canopy　was　thick　here　and　a　small
amount　of　smoke　would　likely　go　unnoticed。　Anyway；　they　were　low　on　standard　rations；　but　they
did　have　the　lizards　Myers　and　Storm　had　caught；　along　with　a　few　handfuls　of　Rogar’s　choicest
spices。　Myers　tasted　each　one　before　he　added　it　to　the　pot；　in　case　its　nature　had　changed　since　the
last　batch　he’d　gathered。　In　case　the　planet　had　brewed　up　a　new　poison　to　surprise　them。
They　knew　there　was　a　small　chance