Death World(科幻战争)-第35部分

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on　its　leg　as　it　had　struggled　to　free　itself。　Unfortunately；　he　hadn’t　been　able　to　outran　the　explosion
that　had　ripped　the　Dreadnought　apart。　Or　maybe　it　hadn’t　been　fortune　but　fate　that　had　lodged　a
sizeable　hunk　of　shrapnel　in　Greiss’　skull。　The　surgeons　had　reportedly　written　him　off；　but　his
strength　of　character　had　buoyed　him　to　a　full　recovery。　“Without　that　metal　plate　they　put　in　his
head；”　Myers　concluded；　“he　wouldn’t　be　the　cantankerous　old　sod　we　know　today。”
“Knock　it　off；　Bullseye；”　growled　Greiss；　“unless　you　want　latrine　duty　when　we　get　back　to
civilisation。”
“You　wait　till　you’re　splashed　over　the　front　page　of　Eagle　&　Bolter；　sergeant；”　said　Myers。
“We　got　their　star　reporter　in　our　midst；　you　know。”
“Yes；　that’s　right；”　remembered　Storm；　turning　to　Braxton。　“Didn’t　I　hear　you　were　working　on
a　story　about　us？”
“We　give　you　enough　material　yet？”　put　in　Myers。
“Ease　off；　you　two；”　said　Greiss。　“You　know　what　those　rags　are　like。　The　higher…ups　wouldn’t
let　Braxton　print　any　of　this　stuff　if　he　wanted　to。　They’re　only　interested　in　their　own　truths。”
“I　wish　I　could　argue　with　that；”　said　Braxton；　“but　you’re　right；　yes。　I　always　wrote　what　I　was
told　to　write—about　successful　missions；　and　ground　that　we’d　gained。　I　don’t　think　half　of　it　was
even　true。　I　didn’t　ask。”
“Never　saw　a　broadsheet　that　was　any　different；”　remarked　Myers。
“And　I　thought　that　was　alright；”　continued　Braxton；　“because　it　was　all　about　morale。　That　was
what　Mackenzie　always　said；　and　the　commissar　before　him。　Put　the　best　possible　spin　on　it；　they
said。　Tell　the　troops　about　the　overall　campaign；　about　the　Imperium　resisting　its　enemies；　and
remind　them　why　they’re　doing　it。　Don’t　let　them　dwell　on　the　details；　how　people　like　them—like
us—are　suffering　and　dying　for　the　cause。　Your　story　would　have　been　no　different。　Just　a　few　lines
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about　your　great　victory；　maybe　a　name　check　for　the　commissar。　They’d　never　have　let　me　write
about　Woods　or　Dougan　or　the　others。”
“All　the　more　reason　for　us　to　make　it　back　alive；”　said　Storm。　“Because　if　we　don’t　tell　those
stories；　who　will？”
“I　will；”　swore　Braxton。　“One　day。　I’ll　tell　them　how　it　is　with　you—how　you　make　sure　that
everyone　matters；　every　life　counts　for　something。”
“Keep　talking　like　that；”　said　Greiss；　“and　your　next　commissar　will　probably　boot　you　right　out
on　the　first　suicide　mission　to　cross　his　desk。”
Braxton　grimaced；　but　took　the　joke　in　the　spirit　it　was　intended。
They　were　all　still　smiling　when　the　ground　shook　again。
This　tremor　was　worse　than　the　first　one。　It　lasted　longer；　felt　deeper　and　more　destructive；
although　the　only　visible　signs　of　it　above　ground　were　a　slight　blurring　of　the　trees　and　the
dislodging　of　a　few　leaves　and　fruits。　The　tremor　died　down　with　no　harm　done；　but　Lorenzo　could
see　his　apprehension　mirrored　in　die　other　Jungle　Fighters’　eyes；　because　they　knew　what　it　might
presage。
Maybe　Rogar　III　hadn’t　conceded　defeat　after　all。　Maybe　it　was　just　waiting；　planning；　and
building　up　to　its　biggest　offensive　against　its　interlopers　yet。
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CHAPTER　FIFTEEN
“Sergeant—you’ve　got　to　see　this。”
As　the　Jungle　Fighters　had　ventured　deeper　into　ork　territory；　they　had　switched　to　stealth
tactics；　as　they　had　by　the　encampment。　This　time；　it　was　Myers　who　had　the　task　of　scouting　ahead
for　traps。　He　had　already　guided　the　squad　around　several　tripwires　and　a　concealed　pit。　Now　he
came　scurrying　back　to　them；　face　flushed。
They　followed　him　through　the　foliage；　all　too　aware　that　they　were　moving　parallel　to　a　path
worn　down　and　churned　up　by　footprints。　Lorenzo　could　hear　clinking　and　clunking　and　the　guttural
sounds　of　ork　voices　ahead；　and　he　moved　as　carefully　as　he　could；　disturbing　hardly　a　leaf。
A　light　spilled　into　the　jungle；　and　Lorenzo　feared　at　first　that　it　was　the　mind…altering　blue　light。
It　was　white；　though；　far　more　harsh；　and　it　seemed　to　emanate　from　many　sources。　The　Jungle
Fighters　were　careful　to　stick　to　the　shadows；　not　to　let　the　light　reveal　them。
Then；　with　a　cautious　touch；　Myers　parted　a　cluster　of　spiny　fronds；　and　Lorenzo　saw　what　the
excitement　was　about。
The　orks　had　set　up　a　mining　operation。　They　were　working　well　into　the　night。　A　clearing　was
illuminated　by　lanterns　strung　up　in　trees；　turned　inwards；　their　light　bleaching　out　all　but　the
faintest　hints　of　colour。　Across　the　clearing；　the　ground　rose　steeply；　and　a　tunnel　had　been　dug　into
the　side　of　this　hillock。　A　square　wooden　frame　propped　up　its　entrance—and　as　the　Jungle　Fighters
watched；　another　light　appeared　in　the　tunnel’s　depths。　An　ork　emerged；　the　light　streaming　from　a
battered　helmet　that　was　balanced　atop　its　misshapen　head。　It　was　wheeling　a　lopsided　barrow
overloaded　with　rocks；　which　it　dumped　unceremoniously　onto　one　of　several　heaps　dotting　the
area。
Four　gretchin　were　sorting　through　this　heap；　giving　each　rock　a　cursory　glance　before　they
tossed　it　onto　a　discard　pile。　Nearby；　two　orks　quarrelled　over　a　pickaxe—and　ten　more　stood　sentry
at　regular　intervals　around　the　clearing；　with　one　stationed　to　each　side　of　the　mine　entrance。　A　few
more　gretchin　were　scampering　about；　fetching　and　carrying；　offering　their　ork　masters　food　and
drink。
“What　do　you　suppose　they’re　looking　for？”　asked　Armstrong；　after　the　Jungle　Fighters　had
backed　up　a　safe　distance。
“Isn’t　much　worth　digging　up　on　Rogar；”　said　Wildman　Storm；　“at　least　not　according　to
Brains—or　did　I　hear　that　wrong？”
Greiss　shook　his　head。　“You　heard　right；　Wildman。　But　remember　what　else　Brains　said—about
this　world’s　energy　signature。　There’s　something　here；　something　the　explorators　couldn’t　identify。
I’m　guessing　the　green…skins　are　after　it。”
“How？”　protested　Lorenzo。　“If　the　explorators　couldn’t　find　it…”
Greiss　shrugged。　“You　know　orks。　Bloody…minded。　Likelihood　is　they　got　nothing；　know
nothing；　but　they’ll　just　keep　on　looking　on　the　off…chance　that　there’s　some　miracle　rock　down
there　they　can　mine　and　use　against　us。　Probably　hollow　out　this　whole　planet　before　they　admit
defeat。”
“Emperor　help　us　if　they　do　find　something；”　murmured　Armstrong。
“So　what　now？”　asked　Storm—and　Lorenzo　recognised　the　impatient　gleam　in　his　eyes。　“The
odds　are　way　better　than　they　were　two　nights　ago；　and　this　time　we　have　the　advantage　of　surprise。
We　come　out　firing；　we’ll　have　half　those　greenskins　down　before　they　know　what’s　hit　them。”
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“I　don’t　care　about　‘half　those　greenskins’；”　growled　Greiss。　“We’re　here　for　one　reason；　and
one　reason　only—and　I　didn’t　see　anyone　out　there　answering　Big　Green’s　description。”
“There　were　no　huts。”　Braxton　realised。　“Where　do　these　orks　live？”
“Another　encampment；　somewhere　nearby？”　hazarded　Myers。
“Your　job　to　find　out；”　said　Greiss。　“When　I　give　the　word；　you　take　a　scout　round　that　clearing；
see　if　there’s　any　wheel　tracks　or　evidence　of　orks　tramping　to　and　fro。　My　guess　is；　there　won’t　be。
I　reckon　these　greenskins　have　taken　their　equipment　and　their　beds　underground；　into　the　mine
itself。”
“So；　getting　to　their　boss　won’t　be　as　easy　as　it　sounded；”　added　Myers。
“He’s　got　to　show　his　face　on　the　surface　sometime；”　opined　Braxton。
“Has　he？”　said　Armstrong；　cynically。
“Normally；　I’d　say　wait；”　said　Greiss。　“Set　up　sniper　positions；　sit　it　out　for　a　few　days；　let　our
target　come　to　us。　But　this　is　Rogar　III。　We　sit　around　here　too　long；　we　don’t　know　what　it’s　going
to　throw　at　us。”
“If　we　go　into　that　mine　with　all　guns　blazing；”　said　Armstrong；　“Big　Green　will　know　about
it—and　I’m　betting；　if　he’s　half　as　smart　as　Mackenzie　reckoned；　he　won’t　let　himself　be　cornered　in
there。”
“Something　else　for　you　to　keep　an　eye　out　for；　Bullseye；”　said　Greiss；　“on　your　reconnoitre：　a
back　way　in—though　if　there　is　one；　it’s　probably　kilometres　away；　and　well　hidden。　No；　I’ve　a
feeling　in　my　old　bones：　the　only　way　we’re　getting　in　sniffing　distance　of　our　man　is　if　we　barge　in
the　front　door。　Question　is；　how　to　do　it　without　tipping　off　the　warboss　that　we’re　coming？”
Twenty　minutes　later；　Lorenzo　was　lying　flat　on　his　face　in　the　grass；　having　mud　slapped　onto　his
back　by　his　comrades—some　of　them；　he　thought；　with　a　little　too　much　relish。　He　protested　as
Storm　tried　to　tie　a　branch　into　his　hair　with　clumsy　fingers；　but　succeeded　only　in　poking　him　in　the
eye。
Finally；　Sergeant　Greiss　suggested　he　try　standing；　and　Lorenzo　did　so；　helped　to　his　feet　by
Braxton。　A　heap　of　vegetation　crashed　to　the　ground　around　his　feet；　and　he　looked　at　Armstrong；
upon　whom　similar　indignities　had　been　heaped；　and　stifled　a　laugh。
It　took　another　ten　minutes’　work　to　achieve　anything　like　the　effect　they　wanted。　Lorenzo　and
Armstrong　remained　standing　for　this　final　stage；　and　Lorenzo　watched　admiringly　as　his　comrade
disappeared　beneath　layer　after　layer　of　dirt。　Much　of　it　didn’t　stick；　and　even　now　some　patches　of
Armstrong’s　skin　showed　through；　but　that　didn’t　matter　so　much。　A　garland　of　plants　had　been
knotted　together　and　draped　around　Armstrong’s　shoulders；　from　a　distance；　it　might　have　loo