Death World(科幻战争)-第36部分

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knotted　together　and　draped　around　Armstrong’s　shoulders；　from　a　distance；　it　might　have　looked
like　the　leaves　were　growing　out　of　him。　The　likeness　wasn’t　perfect；　but　even　Lorenzo　had　to
suppress　a　shudder；　staring　now　at　a　figure　that　reminded　him　of　the　zombies　that　had　almost　killed
them　all。　Of　course；　although　he　couldn’t　see　it；　didn’t　dare　tilt　his　head　for　fear　of　dislodging　its
dressings；　he　knew　he　had　undergone　a　similar　transformation。
Greiss　cast　an　appraising　eye　over　his　two　troopers；　and　announced　that　they　were　ready。　“At
least；”　he　added；　“I’d　say　we’ve　done　as　much　as　we　can　with　you。　I　suggest　you　stick　to　the
shadows　at　the　edge　of　the　clearing；　and—I　don’t　know—try　and　puff　yourselves　up　a　bit；　stick　your
shoulders　out。　You’re　supposed　to　be　orks　under　all　that　muck。　Pair　of　scrawny　buggers　like　you
two；　you’ll　be　lucky　to　pass　for　gretchin。”
“So　long　as　the　greenskins　don’t　pick　’em　as　Catachans；　eh；　sergeant？”　said　Myers。　He　had
surprised　everyone　by　producing　two　ork　guns　from　his　backpack；　now　he　pressed　one　into
Lorenzo’s　hands；　and　the　other　into　Armstrong’s。　“Here；　this　should　help　keep　up　the　illusion。”
“You　got　any　more　of　them；　Bullseye？”　asked　Greiss。
“Afraid　not；　sergeant。　Just　picked　up　two　at　the　encampment；　for　a　rainy　day。　I　loaded　’em　both
up；　though。”
92
“Rest　of　us　will　have　to　make　do　with　lasguns；　then。　We　let　Patch　and　Lorenzo　start　firing　first；
and　with　a　bit　of　luck　the　orks　won’t　think　about　it　in　the　confusion。”
It　sounded　like　a　risky　plan。　For　a　start；　the　Jungle　Fighters　were　relying　upon　the　likelihood　that
the　orks　had　had　their　own　encounters　with　the　plant　zombies。　“When　they　start　falling。”　Greiss　had
said；　“we　want　them　to　think　that　that’s　who’s　behind　it：　their　own　living　dead。　So；　no　heroics。
We’re　just　going　to　pick　off　a　few　sentries；　narrow　the　odds　against　us　and　fall　back；　no　more　than
that。”
Greiss；　Myers；　Storm　and　Braxton　slipped　away　to　their　positions　then；　and　left　Lorenzo　and
Armstrong　standing；　looking　at　each　other。　Lorenzo　hoped　that　Armstrong；　with　all　he’d　been
through；　was　up　to　this—but　when　Greiss　had　expressed　a　similar　sentiment；　the　veteran　had
snapped　that　he　had　lost　an　eye　and　an　arm；　not　the　use　of　his　legs　or　his　brain。
They　waited　two　minutes　as　arranged；　then　began　to　shuffle　toward　the　lights　and　the　sounds　of
ork　voices。　It　was　easier　than　Lorenzo　had　expected　to　replicate　the　zombies’　stiff；　unnatural　gait：　it
came　naturally　to　him；　so　worried　was　he　about　shedding　his　disguise　before　it　was　even　put　to　use。
They　split　up　as　they　neared　the　clearing；　Armstrong　going　right；　Lorenzo　left。　He　saw　no　sign　of
his　other　comrades；　but　he　knew　they　were　nearby。　He　drew　in　a　deep　breath　and　stepped　out　into
the　open；　stopping　just　short　of　the　footprint　of　the　nearest　lantern。　The　nearest　ork　sentry　was　a　little
closer　than　he’d　anticipated；　and　he　squeezed　the　trigger　of　his　gun　and　sent　a　hail　of　bullets　its　way。
Somewhere　to　Lorenzo’s　right；　the　chatter　of　a　second　ork　gun　echoed　his　own。
The　ork　was　coming　at　him；　snarling；　foaming　at　the　mouth。　It　must　have　known　it　was　dead；　but
it　was　using　its　body　as　a　shield；　giving　its　fellows　time　to　react　to　the　intruders　in　their　midst。　There
was　every　chance　that　if　it　could　cling　to　life　long　enough　to　reach　Lorenzo；　it　could　do　some　real
damage。　He　took　a　step　back；　but　he　couldn’t　display　too　much　speed　or　agility　for　fear　of　exposing
his　deception。　All　he　could　do　was　keep　shooting；　and　pray。
Then　the　ork　fell；　and　the　clearing　was　full　of　answering　fire；　then　the　whines　of　las…bolts
shooting　in　from　positions　unknown；　and　there　were　four　more　orks　coming　Lorenzo’s　way　and　it
was　time　to　get　the　hell　out　of　there。
It　took　all　the　self…control　he　could　muster　not　to　duck　or　run—to　turn　his　back　and　to　shamble
away；　hearing　ork　feet　pounding　ever　closer；　making　himself　a　clear　target　for　an　agonising　second。
A　bullet　whistled　by　his　ear；　another　blew　a　clump　of　mud　from　his　shoulder　and　grazed　his　skin。
Then　Lorenzo　rounded　a　bush；　passed　out　of　his　enemies’　sight；　and　abandoned　all　pretence。
He　left　a　trail　of　debris　behind　him　as　he　raced　through　the　jungle；　he　just　hoped　his　pursuers
wouldn’t　recognise　it　for　what　it　was。　He　put　as　many　obstacles　as　he　could　between　him　and　them。
The　orks　were　snarling　and　howling；　and　letting　off　gunfire　in　random　directions；　so　he　knew　they
wouldn’t　hear　him；　as　long　as　they　didn’t　see　him　either；　they　should　assume　he　had　sunk
underground　like　Rogar’s　other　zombies。　In　theory；　at　least。
The　explosions　came　in　quick　succession—two　of　them。　The　orks　had　run　into　their　own　traps；
the　positions　of　the　tripwires　changed　by　Greiss　and　Myers。　Some　of　them　would　have　died。　It　was
still　too　early　to　tell；　though；　if　the　rest　of　the　plan—the　important　part—had　succeeded。
There　was　mud　in　Lorenzo’s　eyes　and　mouth；　but　he　had　reached　his　rendezvous　point　with　the
rest　of　his　squad。　He　was　the　first　there。　He　clawed　great　handfuls　of　dirt　from　his　face；　breathed
deeply　of　the　warm　night　air　and　coughed　up　a　leaf。　He　was　recognisably　Lorenzo　now；　but　a　film　of
the　planet’s　substance　clung　to　him　like　a　second　skin。　He　didn’t　think　he　would　ever　feel　clean
again。
Somebody　spoke；　and　he　jumped；　he　hadn’t　heard　anybody　approaching。　Then　he　recognised
Greiss’　voice；　and　saw　the　familiar　figure　of　his　sergeant　out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye；　though　he
couldn’t　make　out　what　he　was　saying；　so　bunged　up　were　his　ears。　He　started　to　clean　them　with　his
fingers；　as　Greiss　padded　up　to　him　and　laid　a　hand　on　Lorenzo’s　shoulder。
That　was　when　he　saw　his　mistake。
93
Lorenzo’s　head　snapped　up；　and　he　looked　into　the　hollow　eyes　of　an　effigy。　A　better　effigy；　far
better；　than　the　first　two；　Rogar　had　sculpted　Greiss’　craggy　features　perfectly；　even　found　plant
tendrils　to　match　the　iron　grey　of　his　hair。　And　that　voice—it　had　possessed　exactly　the　right　gruff
tone；　even　if；　Lorenzo　now　realised；　it　hadn’t　been　saying　a　thing。　He　muttered　a　curse；　aimed　at
himself　for　not　having　paid　attention；　as　he　pushed　the　effigy　away　from　him　and　dived　at　the　same
time；　but　knew　it　was　hopeless。
The　effigy　exploded；　and　Lorenzo　felt　his　ears　popping；　felt　its　spines　stabbing　into　him　before
he　hit　the　ground；　his　left　side　feeling　as　if　it　was　on　fire。
He　rolled　onto　his　back；　raised　his　left　arm；　and　saw　four　spines　protruding　along　its　length；　three
more　embedded　between　his　ribs。　He　yanked　them　out　quickly；　some　tearing　his　skin　and　sending
more　lances　of　pain　through　him。　Most　of　the　spines；　he　was　grateful　to　see；　still　dripped　poison　and
therefore　hadn’t　pumped　the　whole　of　their　doses　into　him。　Seven　spines；　though…　He　was　bleeding
through　some　of　his　wounds；　and　this　too　was　good　because　it　meant　he　might　bleed　some　of　the
poison　out。　He　twisted　his　arm　around　until　he　could　reach　two　of　its　punctures　with　his　mouth；　and
he　sucked　at　them；　his　tongue　recoiling　at　a　strong；　sour　taste。
His　heart　was　hammering；　his　head　light。　The　first　effects　of　the　poison—or　of　his　own　fear？　He
didn’t　want　it　to　end　like　this。　Not　through　his　own　carelessness。　Not　without　a　name　by　which　his
comrades　could　remember　him。
He　searched　his　pockets；　found　the　capsule　of　herbs　that　Donovits　had　given　him　some　months
ago。　A　generic　antitoxin；　he　had　called　it—though　he　had　warned　it　wouldn’t　work　in　all　situations。
Deathworlds；　Donovits　had　said；　had　a　habit　of　evolving　poisons　faster　than　men　could　combat
them—and；　Lorenzo　supposed　gloomily；　he　would　have　said　that　went　double　for　a　world　like
Rogar　III。
He　gulped　the　herbs　down　anyway；　taking　hold　of　all　the　lifelines　he　could。　He　clambered
unsteadily　to　his　feet　as　Armstrong　burst　through　the　jungle　behind　him；　followed　by　Storm；　Greiss
and　then　Braxton。
Lorenzo　told　them　what　had　happened　to　him。　He　had　no　choice：　he　had　to　warn　them　in　case
Rogar　tried　the　same　trick　on　them。　He　downplayed　his　injuries；　though；　claiming　to　have　been　hit
by　only　three　spines　and　professing　a　false　confidence　that　he　had　sucked　most　of　the　poison　out　of
his　bloodstream。　Greiss　gave　him　a　sceptical　look；　but　Lorenzo　was　able　to　return　it　with　clear；
focused　eyes。　Maybe；　he　thought；　he　would　be　alright　after　all？
Myers　returned　a　few　minutes　after　that—having　stayed　to　view　the　aftermath　of　the　Jungle
Fighters’　incursion—and　Lorenzo　could　tell　from　his　broad　grin　that　he　had　the　news　they　wanted　to
hear。　“We　gunned　down　three　greenskins　altogether；”　he　reported；　“and　wounded　a　few　more。　They
lost　another　three；　and　most　of　the　gretchin；　to　their　own　traps。”
“They　called　for　replacements？”　asked　Greiss。
Myers　shook　his　head。　“Just　spread　their　sentries　more　thinly。　“It　worked；　sergeant。　Judging　by
the　way　they’re　looking　around　and　pointing　guns　at　the　plants；　they　think　the　planet　did　this　to
them。”
“How　many　orks　left？”　asked　Armstrong；　performing　a　quick　mental　calculation。　“Six？”
“Five；”　said　Myers。　“One　went　and　stood　itself　right　next　to　my　bush。　I　caught　a　jungle　lizard
creeping　up　on　me。　I　couldn’t　resist　it。　I　gave　it　a　flick　with　my　lasgun；　catapulted　it　onto　the
greenskin’s　s