Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第25章

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that　were　the　case　I’d　have　found　some　way　of　giving　it　to　them　myself　by　now；　never　mind　all　this
fantasising　about　killing　generals。　You　make　things　too　complicated；　Scholar。　The　orks　want　to　kill
us　for　one　simple　reason。　They　are　orks。　That　is　all　there　is　to　it。　Though　by　all　means　tell　the　new
fish　about　your　grand　theories。　I’m　sure　they’ll　come　in　very　handy　next　time　the　bullets　start　flying
and　he　finds　himself　face　to　face　with　a　horde　of　screaming　green…skins。　Though　from　what　I’ve
seen　already；　you　might　be　doing　him　more　of　a　favour　if　you　told　him　to　tie　a　string　around　his　belt
and　tie　the　other　end　to　his　las…gun　so　he　doesn’t　lose　it　again。”
Grimacing　in　dismissive　annoyance　Davir　returned　his　attention　to　the　card　game；　leaving
Scholar　to　go　on　with　his　lecture。
“The　promethium；　new　fish；”　Scholar　said。　“That’s　why　the　orks　are　here　and　that’s　what　makes
the　city　important　to　both　us　and　them。　Remember　I　told　you　this　city　started　off　as　a　centre　for　the
meat　trade？　Well；　that　was　thousands　of　years　ago。　In　more　recent　times　Broucheroc　became　a
centre　for　the　planet’s　promethium　industry。　Time　was　when　this　city　was　little　more　than　one　giant
refinery；　where　crude　promethium　would　be　brought　from　the　drilling　fields　further　south　to　be
refined　into　fuel。　Even　though　the　pipelines　that　brought　that　crude　here　were　cut　long　ago；　this　city
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is　still　rich　in　promethium。　Billions　of　barrels’　worth；　stored　in　massive　underground　tanks
underlying　most　of　the　city。”
“But　what　do　the　orks　want　with　it？”　Larn　asked　him。
“Fuel；”　Scholar　said。　“Ten　years　ago；　just　as　we　first　made　landfall　here；　it　looked　like　the　orks
were　going　to　conquer　this　entire　planet。　Until　they　started　to　run　out　of　fuel　for　their　armour。　When
that　happened　they　laid　siege　to　Broucheroc；　hoping　to　seize　the　city’s　fuel　reserves。　But　we
managed　to　hold　out；　and　without　fuel　the　ork　assault　elsewhere　on　the　planet　simply　ground　to　a
halt。　Ever　since　then　it　has　been　a　stalemate；　with　us　trapped　inside　the　city　and　the　orks　outside　it
trying　to　get　in。　A　stalemate　that　shows　no　sign　of　ending　anytime　soon。”
“But　what　about　the　Imperial　forces　in　other　parts　of　the　planet？”　Larn　said。　“Or　even　Imperial
forces　from　off…world？　Why　haven’t　they　tried　to　relieve　the　siege？”
“As　for　the　Imperial　forces　elsewhere　on　this　planet；　it　could　be　they　have　tried　to　relieve　us；
new　fish；”　Scholar　said。　“Certainly；　if　you　asked　General　HQ　they　would　tell　you　the　city　is　on　the
verge　of　being　relieved。　However；　seeing　as　they　have　been　saying　the　same　thing　for　ten　years　now；
no　one　much　believes　them　anymore。　You　will　find　that　here　in　Broucheroc　our　commanders　tell　us
a　lot　of　things。　That　we　are　winning　the　war。　That　the　orks　are　leaderless　and　on　the　verge　of
collapse。　That　the　big　breakthrough　they　have　been　promising　us　for　the　last　ten　years　is　finally
imminent。　You　will　find　that　after　a　while　hearing　the　same　old　things；　day　after　day　after　day；　you
simply　learn　not　to　listen。　For　myself；　I　suspect　that　our　brother　Guardsmen　in　other　parts　of　this
Emperor…forsaken　world　are　in　no　better　shape　than　we　are。　Not　that　I　can　say　definitely　whether　or
not　this　is　the　case　you　understand；　given　that　the　only　part　of　this　planet　I’ve　ever　seen　is
Broucheroc。　As　theories　go　however；　it　seems　no　worse　than　any　other。”
“But；　of　course；　that　doesn’t　fully　answer　your　question；”　Scholar　said；　fully　lost　now　in　the　flow
of　his　own　erudition。　“As　to　why　Imperial　forces　from　off…world　don’t　intervene：　I　suspect　the　war
here　is　simply　not　important　enough　to　justify　a　full…scale　landing。　From　time　to　time　there　are
smaller　more　isolated　landings　—　by　a　lander　say；　or　a　single　dropship　—　but　nothing　that　could　be
mistaken　for　anything　even　resembling　a　real　attempt　to　break　the　siege。　Sometimes；　as　in　the　case
of　you　and　your　company；　these　landings　turn　out　to　be　simple　mistakes。　Other　times；　it　is　as　though
some　distant　bureaucrat　has　finally　decided　to　send　us　a　few　more　troops　or　supplies　in　order　to
reassure　us　we　have　not　been　forgotten。　For　the　most　part；　these　occasional　drops　are　as　pointless
and　ridiculous　as　every　other　aspect　of　life　here　in　Broucheroc。　In　the　past　we　have　been　sent　entire
pods　full　of　supplies；　only　to　find　when　we　fight　our　way　to　them　the　boxes　inside　the　pods　are　full
of　the　most　useless　things　imaginable：　paperclips；　mosquito　netting；　laxatives；　boot　laces；　and　so
on。”
“Remember　when　they　sent　us　an　entire　drop…pod　full　of　prophylactics？”　Davir　said　from
nearby。　“I　never　could　decide　whether　they　wanted　us　to　use　them　as　barrage　balloons；　or　simply
thought　the　orks　must　have　a　fear　of　rubber。”
“A　good　example　of　what　I　was　talking　about；”　Scholar　said。　“But　anyway；　I　think　that　pretty
much　covers　everything　for　now；　new　fish。　Do　you　have　any　questions？”
“Never　mind　his　questions。”　Zeebers　said；　suddenly　looking　up　from　his　cards　to　gaze　at　Larn
with　a　sly　and　malignant　smile。　“You　didn’t　quite　cover　everything　for　the　new　fish；　Scholar。　There
is　still　one　thing　you　forgot　to　tell　him。”
“Forgot？”　Scholar　said。　“Really？　I　don’t　think　there　was　anything　else　of　importance…”
“Yes　there　is；”　Zeebers　said；　staring　hard　at　Larn　now　with　cold　malice。　“You　forgot　to　tell　him
why　it　was　Davir　said　you’d　be　wasting　your　time　telling　the　new　fish　anything。　Why　all　the　things
you　told　him　already　are　probably　totally　useless　to　him。　Why；　come　tomorrow；　there’s　likely　only
going　to　be　four　men　in　this　trench；　not　five。　Oh　yes；　I　think　you　forgot　to　tell　him　something；
Scholar。　You　forgot　to　tell　him　the　single　most　important　thing　of　them　all。”
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For　a　moment　Zeebers　paused；　the　silence　growing　tense　and　ugly　as　he　stared　at　Larn　while　the
others　shifted　uneasily　in　their　positions　as　though　suddenly　uncomfortable。　Then；　the　corners　of　his
lips　rising　tightly　in　a　gloating　smile　of　victory；　Zeebers　smirked　at　Larn　and　spoke　once　more。
“You　forgot　to　tell　him　about　the　fifteen　hours。”
They　were　quiet　at　first。　Scholar　and　Bulaven　looked　down　at　the　ground　in　apparent
embarrassment；　while　even　Davir　avoided　Larn’s　eyes　as　though　feeling　the　same　vague　sense　of
discomfort　as　the　others。　Only　Zeebers　looked　his　way。　Staring　back　at　him；　Larn　found　himself
party　to　an　unwelcome　insight。　Zeebers　hated　him。　Though　why；　or　for　what　reason；　he　could　not
even　begin　to　guess。
“What　is　this　fifteen　hours？”　Larn　said　at　last　to　break　the　silence。　“Repzik　said　something　about
it　just　before　the　last　attack。　And　Corporal　Vladek　mentioned　it　as　well。　He　said　he　would　issue　me
e　back　to　see　him　again　in　fifteen　hours’　time。”
Long　moments　passed　and　no　one　answered。　Instead　there　was　only　more　silence　while　Davir；
Scholar；　and　Bulaven　looked　uneasily　at　one　another　as　though　mentally　drawing　lots　to　decide
which　of　them　would　perform　an　unwelcome　duty。　Until　at　length；　still　refusing　to　meet　Larn’s　eyes；
Davir　finally　spoke。
“Tell　him；　Scholar。”
In　response　Scholar　fidgeted　for　a　moment　before；　clearing　his　throat；　he　turned　to　face　Larn
directly。
“It　is　a　matter　of　statistics；　new　fish；”　Scholar　said　with　a　pained　expression。　“You　must
understand　that　in　many　ways　every　marshal　and　general　at　headquarters　is　as　much　a　bureaucrat　as
the　most　pedantic　scribe　in　the　Administratum。　To　them　war　is　not　just　a　thing　of　blood　and　death；
nor　entirely　a　question　of　tactics　and　strategy。　To　them；　it　is　as　much　as　anything　a　matter　of
calculation。　A　calculation　based　on　casualty　reports；　rates　of　attrition；　the　numbers　of　units　in　the
field；　estimates　of　the　enemy’s　strength；　and　so　on；　all　the　myriad　facts　and　figures　that；　together；
can　be　used　to　establish　a　mathematics　of　slaughter。　Every　day；　from　all　over　Broucheroc；　these
figures　are　recorded；　collated　and　sent　to　General　Headquarters　for　the　bean　counters　there　to　work
on　them。　As　for　this　fifteen　hours　that　Zeebers　mentioned；　it　is　one　of　the　products　of　these　daily
calculations。”
“You　are　over　complicating　things　again；　Scholar；”　Davir　said。　“It　does　no　good　to　sugar　the　pill
for　the　new　fish。　He　asked　a　direct　question；　you　should　answer　him　accordi