Death World(科幻战争)-第43部分

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few　hours；　Lorenzo　calculated　from　the　height　of　the　sun；　since　they　had　entered　the　ork　mine—but
what　a　difference　those　few　hours　had　made。
The　earth　had　stopped　shaking；　Lorenzo　didn’t　know　when。　Maybe　Rogar　III　had　expended　its
energy—or　maybe　it　was　just　content　with　its　fresh　kills；　for　now。　Nothing　stirred　in　the　jungle—
and；　after　so　much　noise；　the　silence　felt　eerie。　It　heightened　Lorenzo’s　creeping　sense　of　loneliness。
There　was　a　shape　in　the　undergrowth。　An　ork；　lying　face…down。　He　thought　it　was　sleeping　at
first；　but　on　closer　inspection　it　proved　to　be　dead。　He　recognised　the　multiple　scorched　entrance
wounds　of　las…rounds　on　its　green　skin。　A　short　way　from　it；　he　discovered　another　two　greenskin
corpses；　and　a　gretchin　that　had　evidently　tried　to　run　and　had　been　cut　down　from　behind。　They
must　have　escaped　the　mine　before　the　tunnel　collapse；　he　thought；　to　find　a　greater　peril　waiting
outside。　He　was　grateful。　In　his　current　condition；　even　a　trio　of　orks；　if　they　had　taken　him　by
surprise；　might　have　proved　too　much。
Lorenzo　sensed；　rather　than　heard；　movement　behind　him；　and　he　knew　it　could　only　be　one
man。　He　turned　to　greet　Sly　Marbo　with　a　cool　nod。
The　legendary　Catachan　stood　just　a　few　metres　away；　but　Lorenzo　could　hardly　make　him　out
against　the　greens　and　browns　of　his　background。　He　recognised　his　dead；　white　eyes；　though；　and
his　deep　voice；　empty　of　emotion。
“Did　you　get　him？”　asked　Sly　Marbo。
“Big　Green？”　said　Lorenzo。　“Yes；　yes；　we　got　him。”
Marbo　nodded。　He　had　heard　what　he　needed　to　know。　He　left　without　a　footstep　or　a　rustle；
seeming　to　melt　into　the　jungle　without　moving　at　all。　For　a　moment；　Lorenzo　fought　the
discomfiting　feeling　that　he　hadn’t　moved；　that　he　was　still　there；　watching　with　his　white　eyes。　But
that　was　just　paranoia；　he　knew。　Marbo　was　gone—and　it　was　unlikely　Lorenzo　would　see　him
again。
Braxton；　meanwhile；　had　sagged　to　the　ground；　and　was　sitting　with　his　back　to　a　tree；　knees　up
to　his　chest。　“I　could　sleep　for　a　week；”　he　moaned。
“Go　ahead；”　said　Lorenzo；　checking　for　jungle　lizards　in　the　grass　before　he　sat　down　beside
him。　“For　an　hour　or　two；　anyway。　I’ll　keep　watch—but　I　think　it’s　safe。　I　think　it’ll　take　Rogar　a
while　to　gather　its　strength；　to　be　ready　for　its　next　move。”
“How　can　you　know　that？”　asked　Braxton。
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Lorenzo　shrugged。　“I　just　do。　It’s　like　I　can　feel　it　in　the　back　of　my　brain。　Like　I　could　feel；
underground；　when　the　earth　was　going　to　move；　where　the　lava　was　flowing…　I’ve　been　feeling　it
ever　since　the　effigy　poisoned　me。”
“You　told　Sergeant　Greiss　you　were　dying。”
“I　thought　I　was。　But　this　was　something　different。　A　part　of　the　planet　in　me。　I　think　it　was
trying　to…　In　some　weird　way；　I　think　it　wanted　to…　communicate。”
“Didn’t　stop　it　trying　to　kill　you；”　remarked　Braxton。　“Or　any　of　us。”
“No；”　agreed　Lorenzo。　“I　think—I　feel—it　didn’t　have　much　choice　in　that。”
“And　I　expect　it’ll　try　again。”
“I　expect　it　will。”　It　felt　strange　to　say　the　words；　to　accept　something　that　a　few　days　earlier
he’d　have　sworn　was　impossible。　If　Brains　had　been　here；　he　reflected；　he’d　probably　have　been　able
to　make　it　all　sound　rational。　As　it　was；　there　was　only　one　way　Lorenzo　could　make　sense　of　all
he’d　been　through。　“Remember；”　he　said；　“when　the　zombies　were　stalking　us；　you　said　something
about　the　planet　itself　being　intelligent。”
“It　seemed　that　way；　at　the　time。”
“Yes；　it　did。　To　all　of　us。　But　I’m　not　sure　that　was　quite　right。　No；　I　don’t　think　Rogar　III　is
intelligent　as　such—not　in　a　calculating　way。　It’s　more　like…　like　it’s　just　been　reacting。　To　what’s
been　happening　on　its　surface。　To　the　orks。　To　us。　To　the　fighting。　Like　it　can’t　help　it。”
“Like　some　kind　of　an　allergy；”　suggested　Braxton。　“The　more　we　fight；　the　more　we　harm　the
planet；　the　more　deadly　the　defences　it　evolves。　New　plants　and　animals；　springing　up　on　its　skin
like　rashes。　Or　antibodies。”
“Yes。　Like　that。　And　whatever　it　is；　whatever’s　caused　this；　I　doubt　it’s　something　that　can　be
mined。　The　orks　are　wasting　their　time。”
“That’s　what　Rogar　wanted　you—wanted　all　of　us—to　understand；”　said　Braxton。　“We’re　all
wasting　our　time。”
Lorenzo　looked　at　the　Validian；　and　he　remembered　the　nervous；　apologetic　adjutant　who　had
joined　their　squad　four　days　ago；　the　stranger　whose　intrusion　he　and　the　other　Catachans　had　so
resented。　“You　did　well；”　he　said。　“I　mean；　really　well。　All　the　men；　good　men；　who　died　trying　to
see　this　mission　through　to　the　end—but　you’re　the　one　who　finished　it。　You　struck　the　killing
blow。”
Braxton　waved　aside　the　compliment。　“I　did　nothing。　It　was　a　team　effort。　You　took　on　the　ork
leader　by　yourself；　and　crippled　him。　And　Sergeant　Greiss—if　it　hadn’t　been　for　him；　we’d　both　be
dead。　I　just　blundered　along　at　the　right　moment。”
“You　made　it　this　far；”　said　Lorenzo；　“when　most　didn’t。　I　guess　that　makes　you　one　of　us；　after
all。”
“It　isn’t　over　yet；”　said　Braxton。　“We’ve　got　a　four…day　trek　ahead　of　us；　if　we’re　to　make　it　back
to　the　encampment。”
“Even　if　we　don’t；”　said　Lorenzo；　“Marbo　will。　They’ll　know　we　did　our　job。　They’ll　know　Big
Green　is　dead。”
“Maybe；”　said　Braxton；　“but　they　ought　to　know　more　than　that。　They　ought　to　know　about　Old
Hardhead　and　the　others；　what　they　did　for　us—what　they　did　for　everyone。　Don’t　suppose　I’ll　get　to
write　that　story；　though。”
Lorenzo　grinned。　“You　could　always　try。　You　get　drummed　out　of　the　Imperial　Guard；　I’m　sure
the　Jungle　Fighters　would　have　you。”
They　sat　there；　side　by　side；　for　a　long　time；　warmed　by　the　sun；　exchanging　no　words　but
sharing　a　deep　bond　of　comradeship　forged　in　the　fires　of　their　mutual　experience。　Eventually；
Braxton　got　up　and　searched　the　dead　orks；　finding　a　water　bottle　and　taking　a　long　swig　from　it
before　he　passed　it　to　Lorenzo。　The　Catachan　hadn’t　realised　how　thirsty　he　was；　and　the　cold　liquid
felt　blissful　against　his　parched　throat。
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“So；　what　do　I　call　you　now？”　asked　Braxton；　sitting　beside　him　again。
“I　don’t　know　what　you　mean；”　he　lied。
“Now　you’ve　earned　your　name。　I　heard　what　Greiss　said。”
“He　didn’t　want　me　sacrificing　myself　instead　of　him。　He　wanted　his　blaze　of　glory。　He　was　just
telling　me　what　I　wanted　to　hear。”
“You　really　think？”　Braxton　raised　an　eyebrow。　“Maybe　I　didn’t　know　Old　Hardhead　as　well　as
you　did—but　tell　me　this：　in　all　the　time　he　led　your　squad；　did　he　ever　once　just　tell　anyone　what
they　wanted　to　hear？”
Lorenzo　let　out　a　bark　of　a　laugh；　and　conceded；　“Suppose　not。”
“So；　what　do　I　call　you？”
He　sighed。　“Lorenzo；　still。　Just　Trooper　Lorenzo。　A　Catachan’s　earned　name—it’s　given　to　him
by　his　comrades。　It’s　like　a　mark　of　their　respect；　a　sign　that　they　accept　him。　And　I’ve　got　no
comrades　left。”
“Maybe；　when　the　other　platoons　hear—”
“Maybe。　But　hearing　about　it　isn’t　the　same　as　being　there。　I’ll　probably　be　assigned　to　another
squad；　with　men　who　don’t　know　me；　and　they　won’t　care　that　my　old　sergeant　meant　to　give　me
my　name　if　he’d　been　able　to　think　of　one；　if　he　hadn’t　been　too　busy　charging　to　his　death。　I’ll　have
to　prove　myself　all　over　again。　Anyway；　what　are　they　going　to　call　me？　What　did　I　do　that　was　so
special？　I　wanted　to…　I　wanted　to　be　the　one　who　held　off　the　orks　so　Patch　could　escape；　but　he
got　there　first。　I　wanted　to　be　the　one　who　took　out　Big　Green；　but　I　wasn’t　strong　enough。　I　wanted
to　stop　the　zombies；　but　Old　Hardhead…”
“Sounds　to　me；”　said　Braxton；　“like　you　got　a　suicide　wish—like　you　think　you　can’t　prove
yourself　unless　you　die　in　the　process。　What　was　it　you　just　said　to　me？　‘You　made　it　this　far…’”
“By　not　being　brave　enough；”　Lorenzo　muttered。
“By　taking　everything　this　planet　had　to　throw　at　you；”　countered　Braxton。　“Birds；　acid　plants；
lights；　zombies；　the　earthquake…　By　facing　all　that　and　surviving！　You　think　that　was　dumb　luck？
I’ve　been　watching　you；　Lorenzo；　and　okay；　maybe　you　aren’t　always　the　first　to　stick　your　head　in
the　lion’s　mouth；　but　that’s　because　you　think　about　things；　assess　the　situation；　then　deal　with　it—
not　in　a　showy　way；　not　looking　for　glory；　but　efficiently。　You　get　the　job　done。　You　were　the　first
person　to　give　me　a　chance；　to　look　beyond　the　fact　that　Mackenzie　had　foisted　me　on　you。　Maybe　it
took　the　others　too　long　to　appreciate　that；　maybe　they　took　you　for　granted。　But　I’ll　bet　that’s　what
Old　Hardhead　Greiss　realised　at　the　end　there：　that　you　were　always　there；　for　him；　for　all　of　us；　that
you　were　the　most　dependable　man　on　this　squad。　I’ll　bet　if　he　were　here　now；　he’d　find　a　name　for
you　to　say　all　that。　Something　like…　like…　‘Long　Run’。”
“‘Long　Run’？”
“‘Long　Run’　Lorenzo。　What　do　you　think？　Got　a　ring　to　it？”
“I　don’t　know。　I…”
Braxton　grinned。　“You’ve　got　to　accept　it。　You　just　told　me；　I’m　one　of　you　now。”
“You　enjoy　throwing　my　words　back　in　my　face；　don’t　you？”
“So　I’ve　a　right　to　give　you　your　name。　The　name　you’ve　earned。　And　I　like　the　sound　of　Long
Run。”
Lorenzo　sat　back；　turned　the　words　over　in　his　head；　tried　to　find