Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第32章

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“Then　you　know　we　have　to　get　to　the　Ice　Palace。”
“And　you’re　leading　us　away　from　it；”　said　Grayle；　suddenly。　He　had　been　inspecting　his
compass　in　the　yellow　lamplight；　but　he　was　not　as　adept　with　it　as　Palinev　would　have　been；　and　it
had　taken　him　some　time　to　confirm　his　suspicions。
They　had　been　walking　along　a　narrow　ledge；　in　single　file；　but　now　the　brickwork　tapered　away
and　they　were　forced　back　into　the　water。　Pozhar　thought　he　felt　something　—　a　cold；　wriggling
something　—　brushing　against　his　foot。
“The　direct　approach　is　dangerous；”　said　Tollenberg。　“Mangellan　may　not　have　men　down　here；
but　there　are　other　things；　dreadful　things；　in　the　dark　—　and　the　closer　you　get　to　the　Ice　Palace；　the
worse　the　corruption　becomes。”
“We’re　not　afraid　of　any　stinking　mutants！”　grumbled　Pozhar。
Tollenberg　fixed　him　with　a　long；　narrow…eyed　look　that　the　young　trooper　couldn’t　quite　read。
Then；　quietly；　he　said；　“No；　I　am　sure　you’re　not。　Still；　we　can　help　you　avoid　the　worst　of　the
dangers　—　if　you　trust　us。”
There　was　something　wrong。
Blonsky　knew　it　as　soon　he　emerged　into　the　candlelit　chapel；　as　soon　as　he　was　able　to　stand
upright；　and　his　hand　went　to　his　lasgun。
They　had　climbed　another　ladder　—　a　short　one；　this　time　—　and　Tollenberg　had　rapped　on　the
underside　of　a　manhole　cover　at　its　top：　the　same　signal　as　before；　three　taps；　then　a　pause；　then　two
more。　The　cover　had　been　scraped　aside；　and　the　silhouette　of　another　smock…clad　man　had　loomed
over　them；　against　a　circular　background　of　flaring　light。　The　man　had　reached　down　a　hand　towards
them。
Blonsky　had　been　the　second　of　the　Ice　Warriors　to　be　hauled　up　out　of　the　hole；　behind　Pozhar
—　and　immediately；　he　had　detected　the　stench　of　Chaos。　But　reeking　as　he　was；　as　they　all　were；
from　the　sewer　water；　he　couldn’t　pinpoint　its　source　—　and；　casting　around；　he　could　see　no
immediate　threat。
Perhaps；　he　thought；　his　senses　were　reacting　to　the　desecration　of　this　once…holy　place。　Some
effort　had　been　made　by　the　loyalists　to　reclaim　the　building；　to　reconstruct　the　altar　and　to　scrub　the
disgusting　Chaos　sigils　from　the　walls　—　but　still；　he　couldn’t　help　but　feel　that　the　spirit　of　the
God…Emperor　had　withdrawn　from　here　and　that　no　amount　of　restitution　could　induce　its　return。
At　one　end　of　the　chapel；　two　ornate　pillars　had　been　shattered；　bringing　about　a　partial　collapse
of　the　vaulted　ceiling。　A　little　daylight　spilled　in　through　a　broken　window　frame；　and　glinted　off
fragments　of　coloured　glass　amid　the　rubble。　Wall　hangings　had　been　torn　down　and　burnt。
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There　were　more　figures　here；　thirty　or　forty　of　them；　their　blue　worker’s　smocks　beginning　to
look　like　a　kind　of　uniform。　They　were　scrubbing　the　floors　or　trying　to　piece　together　the　remnants
of　broken　treasures；　or　just　kneeling　at　the　altar　in　silent　prayer。　All　of　them　started　to　react　to　the
arrival　of　four　strangers；　to　clamber　to　their　feet；　to　stare　in　both　awe　and　hope。
They　began　to　close　in　around　the　Ice　Warriors。
And　that　was　when　Blonsky　realised　what　was　happening：　when　he　saw　the　figures’　odd；
shambling　gaits　and　glimpsed　a　tuft　of　grey　fur　protruding　from　a　blue　sleeve。　And　he　drew　his
lasgun；　and　spun　around　and　shot　the　red…headed　woman　through　the　head　as　she　was　helping
Gavotski　up　from　the　ladder。　She　fell；　a　look　of　wounded　surprise　on　her　face；　and　Blonsky　turned　to
deal　with　Tollenberg。
He　had　been　beaten　to　it。　Their　fair…haired　young　guide　was　lying　at　Pozhar’s　feet；　his　hands
clutched　to　his　throat；　blood　welling　between　his　fingers。
“I　warned　you；”　Pozhar　snarled。　“I　told　you　what　I’d　do　to　you。”　And　as　Tollenberg　died；　his
smock　slipped　from　his　left　shoulder；　and　Blonsky　saw　a　bright　green　mole　on　his　skin；　proof　that　he
had　been　right。
By　now；　Grayle　was　reaching　for　his　weapon　too。　Gavotski　scrambled　to　his　feet；　looking　as
surprised　as　the　woman　had　been；　and　Blonsky　spelled　it　out　to　him：
“It’s　an　ambush；　sergeant。　They’re　mutants；　all　of　them。　They’re　stinking　mutants！”
This　was　getting　to　be　a　habit；　thought　Steele：　facing　his　own　death；　making　peace　with　it；　only　to　be
given　a　very　rude　awakening。
This　time；　even　the　mechanical　parts　of　his　brain　had　shut　down。　His　memories　ended　with　the
battle；　with　the　chainsword　that　had　shredded　his　armoured　greatcoat；　and　the　flesh　beneath　it。
Bleeding　from　the　chest；　Steele　had　fallen　onto　his　face；　and　blacked　out。　The　Chaos　Space　Marine
could　have；　should　have；　finished　him　off　there　and　then。　He　didn’t　know　why　he　hadn’t。
He　couldn’t　feel　his　legs。　He　was　surrounded　by　Traitor　Guardsmen。　They　were　pressed　up
against　him；　holding　his　arms；　half…carrying　him　so　that　his　feet　dragged　along　the　street　behind　him。
His　greatcoat　hung　open；　no　more　than　a　few　ragged　strips　of　plasfibre　now。　His　chest　and　his
stomach　were　stiff　with　synth…skin。
“He’s　awake！”　a　voice　grunted；　somewhere　near　his　ear。
“Yeah？　Then　why　are　we　still　carrying　him？”　He　felt　the　muzzle　of　a　lasgun　in　his　back；　and　the
second　voice　snarled；　“Get　walking；　Emperor…lover！”
Steele’s　response　to　this　was　short　and　succinct；　but　it　effectively　conveyed　his　thoughts　on　the
question　of　taking　orders　from　a　heretic。
The　heretic　in　question　made　to　lash　out　with　his　gun　butt；　but　one　of　his　fellows　stayed　his
hand。
“You　can’t　risk　it；”　he　said。　“He’s　already　damaged　goods。　You　could　break　his　skull；　spill　his
brains　out　onto　the　street；　and　what　would　he　say　then？”
Steele　smiled　tightly　to　himself。　The　traitors　had　confirmed　what　he　had　already　guessed；　that
their　leader　in　Iota　Hive　wanted　him　alive。　Most　likely；　Mangellan　intended　to　question　him　about
his　comrades：　their　numbers；　their　plans　and　their　current　whereabouts。　Not　that　it　would　do　him　any
good。
They　had　taken　Steele’s　weapons；　his　field　rucksack；　even　his　fur　hat。　They　had　turned　out　his
pockets。　They　thought　he　was　helpless。　They　were　wrong。
Steele’s　greatest　weapons　were　inside　him。　His　mechanical　shoulder　was　still　in　working　order；
and　his　bionic　eye　had　almost　completed　its　repair　cycle。　He　could　see　with　it　now；　albeit　through　a
faint　blur。　He　could　call　up　its　HUD；　which　told　him　that　the　eye　would　be　fully　functional　in　just
fifty…eight　minutes’　time。
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In　the　meantime；　the　traitors　were　doing　him　a　favour。　A　prisoner　he　may　have　been；　for　now　—
but　they　were　taking　him　just　where　he　wanted　to　go。
They　were　taking　him　to　the　Ice　Palace…　to　Confessor　Wollkenden。
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CHAPTER　FOURTEEN
Time　to　Destruction　of　Cressida：　14。33。04
They　were　sitting　ducks。
Gavotski　cursed　himself　for　having　trusted　the　redheaded　woman　when　she　had　called　to　him
and　Blonsky　out　in　the　street。　He　had　followed　his　instincts　about　her；　not　stopping　to　interrogate　her
further　despite　his　comrade’s　misgivings。　But　then　the　Traitor　Guard　had　been　so　close　on　their
heels；　and　his　instincts　had　never　steered　him　wrong　before。
His　instincts　were　telling　him　something　now。
The　chapel　was　filled　with　the　retorts　of　lasguns。　They　echoed　from　the　vaulted　ceiling　to　return
to　their　wielders’　ears　with　deafening　force。　But　the　only　guns　being　fired　belonged　to　the　Ice
Warriors。　The　mutants　were　not　fighting　back；　few　of　them　were　even　armed。　They　were　cowering；
whimpering　behind　stone　columns　and　the　remains　of　splintered　pews；　behind　the　altar　itself。
“Cease　fire！”　yelled　Gavotski　over　the　clamour。　“I　said　cease　fire；　that’s　an　order！”
Grayle　was　the　first　to　obey；　although　he　turned　to　his　sergeant　with　a　puzzled　frown。　Pozhar
looked　like　he　was　a　second　away　from　mutiny；　while　Blonsky…
Blonsky　didn’t　exactly　aim　his　gun　at　Gavotski　—　he　held　it　at　a　downward　angle；　pointed　at　the
floor　between　them　—　but　the　muscles　in　his　arms　were　tensed；　ready；　as　his　black　eyes　searched
and　probed。
“With　respect；　sergeant；”　he　said；　“may　I　ask　the　reason　for　that　order？”
“Look　at　them！”　said　Gavotski。　“Does　this　look　like　an　ambush　to　you？　No　one　has　attacked　us。
They’ve　done　nothing　but　defend　themselves。”
“They　are　mutants；”　spat　Blonsky。　“Their　existence　is　offence　enough！”
Gavotski　returned　his　glare　evenly。　He　wasn’t　about　to　be　intimidated。　“Ordinari