Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第3章

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behind　the　tank；　in　the　sponson　guns’　blind　spots　—　and；　knowing　their　handheld　weapons　were
useless　against　its　plasteel　hull；　they　concentrated　their　fire　on　the　one　vulnerable　spot　they　could
see：　Barreski’s　head。
He　dropped　down　into　the　turret；　abandoning　his　lascannons　reluctantly；　like　the　sponson　guns；
they　only　had　a　forty…five　degree　arc　of　fire。　He　swung　the　pintle…mounted　heavy　stubber；　and　laid
down　a　discouraging　hail　of　bullets　in　the　tank’s　wake　even　though　he　couldn’t　see　to　aim　it
properly。
He　was　alarmed　when　a　head　appeared　over　the　turret’s　rim。
The　cultist　must　have　just　missed　being　crushed；　found　himself　alongside　the　tank；　behind　the
sponson　guns；　and　seized　the　opportunity　to　leap　on　board；　to　climb。　He　was　ill…equipped；　his　body
armour　salvaged　from　many　sources；　some　too　small　for　him；　some　too　large；　and　his　only　weapon
appeared　to　be　a　knife。　Still；　the　element　of　surprise　made　him　a　threat。
Barreski　managed　to　shoulder　his　lasgun　in　time。　The　cultist　was　leaping　for　him　with　a　snarl
when　a　beam　stabbed　through　his　heart。　His　momentum　kept　him　going；　but　by　the　time　he　hit　the
Ice　Warrior　he　was　already　dead。　Barreski　risked　raising　his　head；　peering　over　the　side　of　the　turret；
to　see　a　second　cultist　climbing　towards　him。　A　single　las…beam　was　enough　to　shake　the　man’s　grip
and　send　him　falling；　screaming；　beneath　the　tank’s　heavy　tracks。
The　Chaos　army　was　reacting；　slowly；　to　the　incursion　of　this　lone　Imperial　vehicle　into　its
midst；　starting　to　turn　its　war　machines　around。　This　was　what　the　Ice　Warriors　had　wanted；　of
course。　Their　attack　had　been　calculated　to　distract；　to　take　the　pressure　off　their　front　lines；　and　to
give　their　comrades　time　to　regroup；　to　renew　their　defence　of　a　stretch　of　land　that　would　otherwise
have　been　lost。
There　were　hundreds　of　foot　soldiers　in　the　path　of　the　Chaos　tanks；　but　their　operators　seemed
no　more　concerned　than　Grayle　had　been　about　who　they　might　crush　beneath　their　treads。
7
Explosive　rounds　burst　against　the　Leman　Russ’　armoured　hide；　but　this　was　where　its　lascannons；
with　their　superior　range　and　firepower；　came　into　their　own。　It　was　not　for　nothing　that　they　were
known　as　tank…killers。
Barreski　was　in　his　element　as　his　cannons　roared。　He　concentrated　his　fire　on　a　Chaos…held
Imperial　Salamander；　its　slight　form　surging　ahead　of　its　fellows；　its　autocannon　spitting　furiously。
He　scored　one　direct　hit；　two；　three；　four；　until　he　had　blown　it　apart。　In　the　heat　of　the　moment；　he
could　almost　have　forgotten　where　he　was；　seeing　only　his　targets　lined　up　in　front　of　him　as　if　on　a
range。
And　then　those　targets　were　close　enough　to　start　to　hit　back；　for　their　own　guns　to　do　some　real
damage；　and　Grayle　had　slammed　the　battle　tank　into　reverse；　but　Barreski　knew　he　couldn’t　go　far
with　the　ruins　still　piled　up　behind　him。
The　cannons　were　out　of　power。　Barreski　yelled　down　at　the　loader　below　to　work　faster；　to
chug　the　heavy；　new　cell　into　place；　to　give　him　more　shots　while　he　could。　The　Chaos　tanks　had
formed　an　arc　in　front　of　them；　closing　in；　the　port　sponson　gun　was　lost；　and　of　course　there　was　no
hope　of　back…up　out　here。
He　couldn’t　complain。　The　whole　crew　had　known　what　they　were　getting　into　when　Barreski
had　suggested　this；　when　Grayle　had　confirmed　that　he　could　drive　them　into　position；　when　the
tank　commander　had　approved　their　plan。
They　had　achieved　their　goal；　delivered　a　good；　solid　blow　to　the　enemy　and　slowed　their
advance；　and　that　was　all　they　could　have　hoped　for。
This　had　always　been　a　suicide　run。
The　war　on　Cressida　was　lost。
Trooper　Mikhaelev　had　seen　it　weeks　ago。　There　was　something　about　the　scent；　the　feel；　of　the
air；　as　if　the　planet　itself　had　given　up。　He　had　heard　that　whole　continents　had　been　transformed　in
days；　verdant　fields　devolving　into　arctic　tundra　—　and　even　here；　where　the　walls　of　civilisation
had　only　just　begun　to　come　down；　there　were　patches　of　a　freezing　purple　fungus　sprouting　amid
the　wreckage。
Mikhaelev　knelt　on　the　plinth　of　a　statue　—　of　whom　he　couldn’t　tell；　as　a　frag　blast　had　cut　it
off　at　the　knees　—　and　steadied　his　missile　launcher　against　his　shoulder。　He　saw　the　shape　of　an
enemy　tank；　and　he　sent　a　krak　missile　whistling　over　the　heads　of　his　squad；　and　of　nine　more　ranks
of　Ice　Warriors。　He　didn’t　wait　to　see　if　he　had　struck　the　tank；　too　busy　with　the　cumbersome　task
of　reloading。　He　should　have　had　a　comrade　to　assist　him；　but　the　last　one　had　been　cut　down　in　the
enemy’s　last　push　and　hadn’t　yet　been　replaced。
When　he　tried　to　fire　again；　the　launcher　clicked　and　jammed；　and　Mikhaelev　let　out　a　resigned
sigh　and　reached　for　his　lasgun。　At　the　rate　at　which　his　comrades　were　falling；　he　would　be　on　the
front　line　soon；　anyhow。
It　was　all　right　for　the　clerks　at　Naval　Command；　he　thought。　They　could　afford　to　dither；　so
reluctant　to　lose　a　productive　world　that　they　had　hung　on　to　hope　long　after　hope　had　died。　They
should　have　ordered　this　withdrawal　long　ago。　They　could　have　spared　millions　of　Guardsmen　to
fight　again　—　but　to　them；　those　Guardsmen’s　lives　were　only　numbers　on　a　data…slate；　so　what　did
they　care？
It　didn’t　especially　bother　Mikhaelev　that　he　was　going　to　die　today。　It　just　rankled　with　him　that
it　would　be　for　nothing。
Then　a　voice　crackled　over　his　earpiece；　and　rewrote　his　destiny。
He　slipped　down　from　the　plinth　and　made　his　way　deeper　into　the　hive；　still　lugging　the　useless；
heavy　missile　launcher　along　with　him　in　case　a　tech…priest　could　salvage　it。　He　thought　about　the
summons　he　had　received；　and　it　cheered　him　up　a　little　to　think　how　irritated　his　commander　would
be　to　let　him　go。
8
So；　Colonel　Stanislev　Steele　was　putting　together　a　special　mission；　and　he　wanted　Mikhaelev
on　board。　The　only　question　Mikhaelev　had　was…　why　me？
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CHAPTER　TWO
Time　to　Destruction　of　Cressida：　47。04。33
The　Sentinel　walkers　were　equipped　as　power　lifters；　not　intended　for　combat　use。　The　lost　and　the
damned　had　got　hold　of　a　pair　somehow　—　either　they　had　captured　them　or　their　pilots　had　simply
defected；　as　so　many　Guardsmen　had　done　during　this　war　—　and　their　Imperial　markings　had　been
defaced。
The　Sentinels　were　being　used　to　deal　death　now。　They　were　marching　amid　a　legion　of　Chaos
spawn　and　other　mutant　creatures；　sweeping　and　gouging　at　the　defenders　of　Alpha　Hive　with　their
single　metal　claws。
Trooper　Borscz’s　Ice　Warrior　platoon　was　ranged　along　the　edge　of　an　empty　residential　sector。
So　far；　they　had　been　holding　the　tide　back；　but　the　Sentinels’　appearance　threatened　to　change　that。
It　had　fallen　to　Borscz’s　squad　to　deal　with　that　threat。　His　sergeant；　Romanov；　was　bellowing
orders；　instructing　his　nine　troopers　to　aim　their　fire　at　the　leftmost　of　the　two　leviathans。　Borscz’s
first　beams　went　hopelessly　wide；　and　he　cursed　the　unreliable　sights　of　his　lasgun　under　his　breath。
Many　of　his　comrades　struck　true；　but　their　las…beams　seemed　to　do　little　damage；　at　least　to　begin
with。
At　last；　their　sustained　barrage　began　to　bear　fruit；　and　Borscz　saw　sparks　flying　from　the　left
knee　joint　of　the　bipedal　machine。　Without　needing　to　be　told；　the　Ice　Warriors　refocused　their　fire
on　that　spot　—　and　a　long；　agonising　minute　later；　the　Sentinel　collapsed；　and　flattened　a　number　of
luckless　spawn　beneath　its　mass。
It　had　taken　too　long。
Sergeant　Romanov　shouted　again；　and　his　squad　turned　its　fire　on　the　second　Sentinel。　Before　it
could　be　felled；　though；　the　spawn　would　be　upon　them。
Borscz　weighed　up　his　options；　and　then　lowered　his　gun。　He　caught　Romanov’s　suspicious
glare；　and　he　shrugged　his　broad；　muscular　shoulders。
“Sorry；　sergeant；”　he　yelled；　“the　machine　is　kaput；　it　jams　up　in　the　cold。　What　is　a　trooper　to
do？”　Then　he　drew　his　long…bladed　knife；　lowered　his　head　and　took　a　single　giant　step　forward　to
meet　the　first　of　the　charging　mutants。
It　cannoned　into　him；　rebounding　from　his　bulk；　and　Borscz　thought　he　could　read　surprise　in　its
twisted　face。　While　it　was　still　reeling；　he　seized　it；　kicked　its　legs　from　beneath　it；　and　sent　it
sprawling　against　two　more　mutants　behind　it。　Two　more　came　up　alongside　him；　an