Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第35章

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still　in　control　of　my　own　destiny。　I　will　win　this　war。　And；　soon　enough；　I　will　be　able　to　add　the
name　“Hero　of　Broucheroc”　to　all　my　different　titles。　I　will　not　allow　matters　here　to　go　any　other
way。
Then；　noticing　a　single　page　sitting　alone　among　the　flotsam　spread　of　maps　and　documents
lying　across　the　table；　the　Grand　Marshal　saw　something　there　that　excited　his　interest。　It　was　the
latest　edition　of　The　Veritas；　the　city’s　twice…daily　newsletter　and；　as　so　often　in　the　past　when　he
felt　weighed　down　by　all　his　troubles；　the　Grand　Marshal　turned　to　the　newsletter　in　the　hope　of
comfort。
Orks　Defeated　in　Sector　1…13；　the　headline　read。　Jumael　14th　Victorious！
Yes；　he　thought；　reading　the　story　written　below　it。　It　doesn’t　matter　what　the　others　say；　here　is
the　proof　that　I　was　right　all　along。　The　proof　of　impending　victory　and　the　proof　my　battle　plans
are　sound。　We　are　winning　victories。　We　are　defeating　the　orks。　We　are　winning　this　war。
It　says　so　right　here　in　the　news。
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CHAPTER　ELEVEN
17：54　Central　Broucheroc　Time
Boy　and　the　Taking　of　Broucheroc’s　Children　—　Trench　Repairs　Parts　1；　2　&　3　—　Questions　as　to
the　Whys　and　Wherefores　of　Survival　—　A　Reappraisal　of　the　Tale　of　his　Fathers
His　name　was　Boy。　Granted；　his　Ma　had　given　him　another　name　but　she　had　been　dead　for　more
than　three　something　years　now　and　he　had　been　so　young　he　could　no　longer　remember　what　it　was
she　had　called　him。　Instead；　he　had　taken　the　name　the　auxies　used　for　him　when　they　tried　to　catch
him　to　take　him　to　the　machine…men　and　their　big　making…places。　“Come　here；　boy；”　they　would
say。　“We　don’t　want　to　hurt　you；　boy；”　their　voices　breathless　from　running；　their　stupid　faces　red
and　panting；　trying　to　chase　him　as　he　danced　away　from　them　across　the　rubble。　Some　of　them；　the
clever　ones　he　guessed；　would　even　try　to　trick　him。　“We　have　food；　boy；”　they’d　say。　“Come　down
here　and　we　will　share　some　with　you。”　But　they　could　never　fool　him。　He　was　Boy；　and　he　lived
wild　and　swift　and　free　in　the　ruins　of　this　city。　Try　as　they　might；　the　auxies　and　the　machine…men
would　never　get　him。
Now；　the　cloak　he　had　made　from　rat　skins　and　scavenged　sacking…cloth　wrapped　tight　about
him　to　keep　out　the　cold；　Boy　crouched　hidden　in　a　hollow　in　the　rubble　waiting　to　see　if　one　of　the
children　of　Cap’n　Rat　would　take　his　bait。　The　pickings　had　been　good　this　week；　with　Cap’n　Rat
sending　at　least　one　of　his　children　along　each　day　for　Boy　to　kill　and　eat。　In　return　Boy　had　done
right　by　the　Cap’n　just　liked　he’d　promised　him：　forsaking　all　other　gods　and　praying　to　Cap’n　Rat
over　each　of　his　kills。　As　far　as　agreements　went　Boy　reckoned　it　had　been　a　pretty　good　one。　Only
problem　was；　despite　the　fact　he　had　been　waiting　in　the　same　place　for　hours　now；　so　far　today　the
Cap’n　didn’t　seem　in　any　great　hurry　to　live　up　to　his　end　of　the　bargain。
Then；　at　last；　Boy　saw　signs　of　progress。　Tempted　from　his　burrow　by　the　promise　of　easy
pickings；　a　rat　emerged　from　a　nearby　hole　in　the　rubble　and　moved　quickly　across　the　rocks
towards　the　bait。　Until；　coming　to　the　small　piece　of　greasy　flesh　Boy　had　set　out　as　a　lure；　the　rat
paused　with　whiskers　twitching　warily　as　though　some　inner　instinct　had　alerted　it　to　danger。
Too　late　to　be　twitching　with　your　whiskers　now；　Brother　Rat；　Boy　thought；　a　feral　smile　playing
across　his　cracked　lips　as　he　aimed　his　slingshot　and　loosed　the　taut　string　to　let　fly　with　a　two…inch
metal　nail。　Shouldn’t　oughta　have　been　so　greedy；　coming　out　in　the　open　in　the　suntime　like　that。
Flying　fast　and　true　the　nail　took　the　rat　square　in　the　back　of　the　neck；　stabbing　through　its　spine
and　into　the　skull。　On　his　feet　and　moving　before　the　nail　had　even　hit　its　target；　Boy　jumped　from
cover　to　race　scampering　across　the　rabble　to　retrieve　his　prize。　Grabbing　the　dead　rat　by　the　tail；　he
turned　and　ran　back　to　find　refuge　again　in　his　hiding　place。　Then；　pulling　the　nail　free　and　daubing
two　smears　of　the　rat’s　blood　across　his　cheeks；　he　knelt　to　send　a　silent　prayer　of　thanksgiving　to
his　unseen　benefactor。
Praise’m；　Cap’n　Rat；　he　thought　as　he　looked　down　at　the　body　of　his　catch　and　considered　its
worth。　Praise’m　for　making　so　many　of　your　children。　Praise’m　for　making　them　big　and　fat。　And
praise’m　for　sending　them　to　me　so　I　don’t　starve。
It　was　a　good　rat；　fine　and　sleek；　with　the　kind　of　big　meaty　haunches　he　knew　would　make　for
tasty　eatings。　Nor　did　the　value　of　the　rat　to　Boy　end　there。　He　could　make　clothing　from　its　pelt；
sewing　thread　from　its　sinews；　needles　and　traphooks　from　its　bones；　teeth；　and　claws。　No　part　of　the
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rat’s　body　would　go　wasted。　By　virtue　of　the　survival　skills　he　had　learned　first　by　watching　his
mother　and　then　on　his　own　after　her　death；　Boy　could　find　a　use　for　anything。
Abruptly；　he　found　himself　thinking　of　how　things　used　to　be　when　his　Ma　was　still　alive。　He
remembered　the　cellar　where　they　used　to　live；　her　kind　and　careworn　face；　the　soft　lullabies　she
would　sing　to　drift　him　off　to　sleep。　He　remembered　sitting　on　her　knee　as　she　told　him　the　reasons
they　must　stay　in　hiding。　“They　say　we　must　give　up　our　children；”　she　had　told　them。　“The
generals。　They　say　children　are　a　distraction　in　wartime；　that　the　people　of　Broucheroc　must　all
serve　in　the　auxiliaries　while　their　children　are　cared　for　in　the　orphanariums。　But　I　don’t　believe
them。　I　think　they　want　to　give　the　children　over　to　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　—　the　machine…men　—
so　they　can　train　them　to　be　workers　in　the　manufactoriums；　the　big　dangerous　making…places。　But　I
won’t　let　them　do　it；　my　baby　boy。　I　won’t　let　them　take　you。　No　matter　what　happens；　you　can
always　know　your　Ma　will　keep　you　safe。”
His　heart　growing　heavy；　Boy　remembered　other　things　as　well。　He　remembered　the　sound　of
thunder　rolling　across　the　ground　above　their　heads　one　night　while　they　crouched　huddled　in　the
cellar。　He　remembered　the　cave…in　and　his　mother’s　body　lying　crushed　among　the　rubble。　He
remembered　her　eyes　staring　at　him；　cold　and　dead　from　a　face　covered　in　a　thick　layer　of　dust。　He
remembered　crying　for　hours；　scared　and　lonely；　not　understanding　how　it　was　she　could　have　left
him。　Then；　his　own　eyes　stinging　wetly　at　the　corners；　Boy　found　he　didn’t　want　to　have　anything
more　to　do　with　remembering　for　a　while。
Sucking　a　breath　of　air　and　rubbing　the　back　of　his　hand　across　his　face　to　clear　his　eyes；　Boy
decided　it　was　time　to　head　back　to　his　warren　and　get　to　eating　Brother　Rat。　Too　smart　to　just　head
there　directly　in　case　anyone　was　looking；　he　took　the　long　way；　cutting　a　twisting　path　through　the
maze　of　shattered　buildings　and　mounds　of　rubble　all　around　him。　Then；　as　he　crossed　near　the
summit　of　one　of　the　mounds；　he　noticed　something　that　gave　him　pause。　A　smell；　almost。
Something　gathering　on　the　wind…
For　a　moment；　feeling　a　sudden　chill　at　the　base　of　his　spine；　Boy　stood　looking　out　toward　the
east。　Before　him　the　city　seemed　quiet；　its　deserted　streets　appearing　every　bit　as　dead　and　lifeless　as
the　mined　burnt…out　buildings　that　surrounded　them　on　every　turn。　Boy　was　not　fooled。　After　three
something　years　living　alone　among　the　rubble　now　he　had　developed　a　sixth　sense　when　it　came　to
the　city　and　its　ways。　A　sense　that；　right　here　and　now；　told　him　he　had　best　be　wary。
Oughta　be　getting　myself　back　underground　and　staying　there　a　while；　he　thought　as　he　finally
turned　to　make　for　home。　There’s　trouble　brewing：　the　wind　says　it　clear　and　loud。　A　bad　day　is
coming；　and　like　as　not　a　lots　of　peoples　is　gonna　die…
“What　was　life　like　where　you　were　born？”　Larn　asked　Bulaven；　lifting　another　shovelful　of　earth
onto　the　blade　of　his　entrenching　tool　as　the　big　man　stood　beside　him。　“On　your　homeworld；　I
mean？”
“On　Vardan？”　Bulaven　said；　pausing　in　his　work　long　enough　to　wipe　the　sweat　from　his
chapped　brow　before　it　could　freeze。　“It　was　good　enough　I　suppose；　new　fish。　Certainly；　there　are　a
lot　of　worse　planets　a　man　could　be　from。”
They　were　standing　in　the　trench　with　shovels　in　their　hands；　Davir　and　Scholar　beside　them
while　Zeebers　stood　on　the　firing　step　on　watch；　trying　to