Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第42章

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firm　hold　on　him。
And　clutched　in　his　left　fist；　he　held　his　ultimate　weapon：　the　primed　frag　grenade　that　would
collapse　the　archway　behind　Steele　and　the　others；　slow　down　anyone　who　tried　to　follow　them　—
and　also　ensure　that　the　heretics　that　killed　him　would　die　by　his　side。　Just　as　he　had　planned　would
happen　outside　Alpha　Hive　two　mornings　ago。
He　wondered　if　this；　then；　was　what　the　Emperor　had　spared　him　for　on　that　occasion。　He
wanted　to　believe　this。　But　the　itchy　grey　fur　was　all　over　his　chest；　spreading　down　his　back；　and　he
could　no　longer　open　his　right　hand　fully。　His　fingers　had　hunched　over　and　he　thought　his
101
fingernails　had　grown　longer；　and　Pozhar　knew　in　his　heart　that　his　god　could　have　played　no　part　in
any　of　that。
He　hadn’t　come　into　this　battle　with　the　intention　of　dying　in　it。　At　least；　he　didn’t　think　he　had。
But　the　only　thing　keeping　his　secret　now；　he　was　sure；　was　the　black　cloak　he　was　wearing；　and　he
couldn’t　bear　to　see　the　expressions　of　his　comrades；　didn’t　want　to　have　to　face　their　judgement；
when　that　cloak　came　off。
The　Traitor　Guardsmen　were　almost　upon　him。　Another　few　seconds；　and　they　would　have　a
clear　shot；　would　be　able　to　finish　him。　He　activated　the　grenade；　on　a　short　fuse；　and　he　lured　them
back　towards　the　archway。
It　was　better　this　way；　he　thought。
Better　that　his　body　be　blown　apart；　and　then　liquefied　by　the　virus　bombs　before　any　piece　of
him　could　suffer　the　ignominy　of　being　flung　into　a　Chaos　burial　pit。　Better　that　no　one　should　have
the　chance　to　inspect　his　remains；　that　his　comrades；　let　alone　his　commanders；　should　never　learn
of　his　shame。
Better　to　let　them　all　believe　that　Trooper　Pozhar　died　a　hero。
Mangellan　was　blind。
He　hadn’t　seen　the　las…beam　that　had　hit　him；　his　eyes　already　teary　with　smoke。　There　had　just
been　a　flash；　and　a　searing　pain。　He　felt　as　if　his　face　was　on　fire。　He　couldn’t　see　where　he　was
going；　didn’t　know　what　was　happening；　he　had　to　trust　to　his　escorts　to　guide　him　to　safety。
He　stumbled　into　the　cooling　embrace　of　his　palace；　his　magnificent　Ice　Palace；　his　gods’　gift　to
him　—　but；　for　the　first　time；　he　felt　unsafe　within　its　walls。
He　could　hear　running　footsteps；　cultists　evacuating　around　him；　and　he　yelled　at　the　Traitor
Guardsmen　to　keep　them　away　from　him；　to　trust　no　one。
He　felt　an　insistent　tugging　at　his　sleeve；　heard　Furst’s　voice　ask；　“Why　are　we　running；　master？
What　about　the　sacrifices？　Who　is　guarding　them？”
He　brushed　the　irritant　away。
“They　are　chained！”　he　insisted；　leaning　against　the　wall　to　compose　himself；　rubbing　his　eyes
and　blinking；　praying　to　his　gods　that　the　blindness　might　only　be　temporary。
“But　if　their　allies　have　come　to　free　them—”
“Try　to　use　your　brains；　Furst；”　Mangellan　snapped；　“such　as　they　are。　Steele　brought　only　a
handful　of　soldiers　into　our　hive。　How　could　they　have　penetrated　this　palace；　my　palace；　without
our　knowing　about　it？　No；　this　attack　has　come　from　the　inside；　from　someone　who　is　jealous　of　all　I
have　achieved；　the　power　I　have　earned；　someone　who　wished　to　sully　my　most　glorious　moment。”
“I　am　sure　you　are　correct；　master；　but—”
“I　always　knew　it　would　happen。　I　knew　the　priests　were　always　scheming　and　plotting；　but　to
act　so　boldly…　Which　of　them　was　it？　What　do　you　say；　Furst？”
“I…　I　wouldn’t　know；　master。　I—”
Mangellan　lashed　out；　trying　to　grab　Furst　by　his　robes。　He　felt　his　hand　brush　against　the
loathsome　little　mutant　but　failed　to　take　hold　of　him。
“'You　are　always　sneaking　about；”　he　growled；　“lurking　in　places　you　should　not　be；　overhearing
what　you　should　not　have　heard。　Tell　me；　Furst；　who　is　to　blame　for　this　attack　upon　my　person；　this
affront　to　the　gods　I　serve？”
“Nobody；　master。　None　of　us　would　dare　cross　you　in　this　way。”
“You　saw　him；　didn’t　you！　If　not　the　traitor　who　planted　the　bombs；　then　certainly　the　wretched
opportunist　who　shot　at　me；　who　dared　take　my　sight！　I　will　find　him；　Furst；　and　when　I　am　through
with　him；　he　will　wish　he…　he…”
102
Mangellan　hadn’t　felt　the　knife　enter　his　stomach；　so　quick　and　clean　had　been　the　incision。　Only
now；　as　he　felt　his　blood　spill　out；　as　a　dull　pain　spread　through　him　as　if　he　had　been　kicked…　only
now　that　he　realised　what　had　happened。
He　was　speechless；　weak；　dizzy。　He　could　only　listen　in　uncomprehending　horror　as　Furst　leaned
close　to　his　ear　—　Mangellan’s　legs　must　have　buckled；　making　him　slide　down　the　wall　that　was
supporting　him；　bringing　him　down　to　the　mutant’s　level　—　and　whispered　to　him；　“You　are　the　one
to　blame。　You　presumed　too　much；　thought　too　much　of　yourself；　and　now　look　what　you　have
wrought。　A　‘handful’　of　Emperor…lovers　has　humiliated　us；　brought　you　to　this。　I　hear　the　gods　—
oh；　you　were　so　certain　they　would　not　deign　to　speak　to　one　such　as　I；　that　I　would　not　understand
them　—　but　I　hear　them；　and　they　are　disappointed　with　you。　You　have　failed　them；　Mangellan。”
He　was　on　the　floor；　although　he　didn’t　remember　falling。　He　tried　to　lift　his　hands；　tried　to　turn
his　head　to　where　he　imagined　his　protectors　might　be；　tried　to　cry　out　to　them；　“Guards！　Guards；
attend　me！”
“They　won’t　help　you；”　Furst’s　voice　said　through　the　deepening　darkness。　“They　too　know　that
this　is　the　gods’　will。　And　they　now　serve　a　new　master。”
103
CHAPTER　EIGHTEEN
Time　to　Destruction　of　Cressida：　03。34。45
The　room　was　small；　not　much　bigger　than　the　apartment　blocks　on　the　lower　hive　levels。　It　was
dominated　by　a　single　bed；　though　there　was　plenty　of　junk　piled　in　the　narrow　spaces　around　it：　bits
of　furniture；　clothing；　broken　lamps；　even　a　couple　of　paintings　with　their　corners　touched　by　fire。
The　walls　were　made　of　ice；　of　course。　A　large；　eight…pointed　star　had　been　painted　clumsily　on
one；　so　that　black　rivulets　ran　from　it　to　the　floor。
It　didn’t　surprise　Blonsky　that；　with　all　the　power　he　had；　all　the　space　available　in　the　nearemptied
hive　and　in　the　Ice　Palace；　Mangellan　still　had　his　followers　live　like　this。　The　harder　they
had　to　work　to　survive；　the　less　time　they　had　to　plot　against　him。　Not　that　the　occupant　of　this　room
could　care　much　any　more。
He　lay　crumpled　beneath　the　window　to　the　courtyard；　through　which　he　had　been　leaning　when
Blonsky　had　kicked　open　his　door。　Some　Ice　Warriors　held　that　it　was　wrong　to　shoot　an　enemy　in
the　back；　but　Blonsky　disagreed。　All　that　mattered　was　that　the　heretic　was　vanquished。　To　fail　to
take　that　shot　was　the　sin。
He　only　wished　he　had　had　a　few　more　shots　at　Mangellan。　He　had　been　taking　aim　when　he　had
seen　that　Grayle　was　in　trouble；　had　had　to　help　him　out　instead。　And　the　high　priest’s　guards　had
reacted　too　fast；　faster　than　he　had　expected。
One　of　them　was　here　now。　The　Chaos　Space　Marine。　His　bulk　filled　the　window　frame；　casting
the　small　room　into　shadow。　Blonsky　had　backed　up　as　far　as　the　door；　scrambling　over　the　bed；
wading　through　the　junk；　firing　his　lasgun；　knowing　it　would　do　little　damage；　hoping　at　least　to
throw　off　the　Chaos　Marine’s　balance；　make　him　lose　his　grip　on　the　outside　wall　and　fall。
He　should　have　given　up　by　now；　should　have　withdrawn。
He　hurled　a　frag　grenade；　but　the　Chaos　Space　Marine　caught　it　easily；　and　tossed　it　over　his
shoulder　to　erupt　in　the　sky　above　the　courtyard。　And　then　he　was　inside　the　room；　and　Blonsky　was
out　of　both　ammunition　and　time。
The　Chaos　Space　Marine　raised　his　gun　and　fired；　and　Blonsky　slammed　the　door　between　them
and　ran　as　bolts　punched　through　the　wood。　Barely　a　second　later；　he　heard　a　cracking；　wrenching
sound　as　the　door　was　torn　from　its　ice　frame。
He　raced　along　empty　passageways；　sprang　down　a　flight　of　steps；　but　his　pursuer　remained
doggedly　on　his　heels。　Blonsky　could　hear　his　heavy　footsteps；　thump；　thump；　thumping　behind
him。　The　only　thing　that　kept　the　Chaos　Space　Marine　from　closing　the　gap　between　them　was　the
fact　that　the　Ice　Warrior　was　lighter；　more　lithe；　able　to　corner　more　efficiently　on　the　slippery；
uncarpeted　floors。
He　sped　past　two　shaken　cultists；　refugees　from　the　courtyard；　and　was　away　from　them　before
they　could　react　to　his　presence。　Next　time；　he　knew　he　might　not　be