Ice Guard(科幻战争)-第15部分

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Borscz　wrenched　a　third　mutant　from　its　victim；　while　Grayle　attempted　a　similar　manoeuvre
with　the　fourth；　but　found　that　it　was　stronger　than　he　was。　Nevertheless；　he　kept　it　occupied　long
enough　for　Blonsky　to　stand　and　to　thrust　his　bayonet　into　the　struggling　creature’s　guts。
And　then　the　fight　was　over；　there　were　no　more　mutants　standing；　and　Palinev　returned；　wiping
his　blade　with　a　cloth；　to　report　that　the　one　he　had　chased　was　also　dead。　The　Ice　Warriors　were　left
in　a　self…made　clearing；　but　the　ice　trees　that　Barreski’s　flamer　had　melted　were　already　beginning　to
grow　again。　Pozhar　leapt　as　a　new　shoot　sprouted　with　impossible　speed　beneath　him；　almost
impaling　his　foot。
Before　they　moved　on；　Steele　counted　the　bodies　to　confirm　that　all　the　mutants　he　had　seen
were　accounted　for。　Then　he　took　another　second　to　rerun　that　calculation；　four　more　times；　to　be
sure。
It　had　become　second　nature　for　him　to　do　this；　and　he　did　it　for　a　good　reason。　He　did　it　because
he　could　not　trust　his　own　mind。
Some　things；　he　remembered　too　well。
He　remembered　every　detail　of　his　time　in　the　hospital；　everything　they　had　done　to　him　there。
The　medics　had　rebuilt　one　side　of　Steele’s　head；　inserted　plates　into　his　skull；　and　grafted　foreign
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objects　onto　his　brain。　They　had　replaced　the　shattered　bones　in　his　right　shoulder　and　upper　arm
with　plasteel；　the　muscles　with　hydraulic　systems。
He　remembered　their　assurances　that　the　pain　would　be　worthwhile；　that　they　were　doing　the
best　they　could　for　him。　He　hadn’t　believed　them。　He　had　thought　it　more　likely　that　the　medics
were　just　pushing；　testing；　seeing　how　far　they　could　go。
Steele　could　remember　all　that；　but　he　couldn’t　remember　what　had　landed　him　in　that　Emperorforsaken
place　to　begin　with。　He　had　no　memory　of　Karnak；　the　world　to　which　his　service　records
told　him　he　had　been　posted　for　more　than　two　years。　He　did　not　know　who　his　comrades　had　been
on　that　world；　in　that　campaign；　which　of　the　Imperium’s　many　enemies　they　had　been　fighting；　or
what　his　orders　had　been　on　that　fateful　day。
He　had　no　idea　what　had　caused　the　explosion　that　had　gone　off　in　his　face。
He　couldn’t　remember　his　father’s　eyes；　nor　the　touch　of　the　girlfriend　he　had　left　behind　on
Valhalla　when　his　draft　papers　had　arrived。
Sometimes；　in　the　weeks　that　had　followed　his　discharge；　Steele　had　wished　that　the　medics　had
just　left　him　to　die。
He　was　aware　that　people　saan；　a　deep　thinker。　As　a　cold　man。　Some　were
jealous　of　his　augmetics；　of　the　feats　they　enabled　him　to　achieve。　Those　people　didn’t　know　the　real
Colonel　Stanislev　Steele。　They　didn’t　know　the　abiding　frustration　that　burnt　at　the　core　of　his　being。
He　could　hear　the　flapping　of　a　moth’s　wings　from　forty　paces　now；　detect　its　body　heat　from　a
hundred。　He　could　perform　complex　calculations　at　lightning　speed　—　or　rather；　a　small　part　of　his
brain　to　which　he　felt　little　connection　could　perform　them　and　offer　up　the　results　to　him。　He　had
near…perfect　recall；　and　could　store　tactical　maps　and　troop　movements　in　that　same　small　alien
corner　of　his　head。
Steele　had　heard　it　said　that　he　could　count　the　snowflakes　in　a　storm；　although　he　had　never
been　quite　bored　enough　to　try。
And　of　course　he　had　the　strength　of　three　men　in　his　right　arm　—　enough；　he　had　been　told；　to
slice　through　two　armoured　heretics　with　one　swing　of　his　power　sword。
It　must　have　sounded　amazing；　in　theory；　and　Steele’s　new…found　abilities　had　certainly　helped
him　to　rise　through　the　ranks。　But；　as　Trooper　Borscz　would　no　doubt　have　reminded　him；　Imperial
technology　wasn’t　always　reliable　—　and　far　less　so　in　conditions　like　these；　on　ice　worlds　such　as
Valhalla　and　the　world　that　Cressida　had　become。　Steele’s　eye；　his　acoustic　enhancers；　the　olfactory
sensors　in　his　nose；　even　his　right　shoulder；　they　were　all　prone　to　intermittent　failures。　They　could
let　him　down　at　any　moment。
And　so；　nine　years　after　he　had　been　reborn；　he　was　still　trying　to　work　out　what　the　medics
hadn’t　been　able　to　tell　him。　He　still　didn’t　know　which　of　his　thoughts　were　entirely　his　own；　and
which　had　been　influenced　by　the　augmetics　that　had　oh…so…subtly　insinuated　themselves　into　his
consciousness。　He　had　to　second…guess　his　every　instinct；　in　case　it　was　based　on　flawed
information。
He　couldn’t　tell　where　the　real　Stanislev　Steele　ended　and　the　augmetics　began。
They　were　nearing　the　edge　of　the　ice　forest；　at　last。
Steele　knew　this　because　his　augmetics　had　calculated　that　the　mean　distance　between　the　ice
trees　was　a　little　greater　than　it　had　been　a　few　minutes　ago。　He　quickened　his　pace；　knowing　that
his　squad　would　fall　into　step　beside　him　without　being　ordered　to　do　so。　There　had　been　no　signs
that　anyone　was　on　their　tail；　but　still　he　couldn’t　dismiss　that　possibility。
At　last　they　emerged　into　the　open；　and　Steele　could　see　that　the　others　were　as　happy　about　it　as
he　was。　Borscz　let　out　a　deep　groan　of　relief；　and　took　the　opportunity　to　stretch　his　arms　and　legs
and　work　out　the　cricks　in　his　neck。
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A　great；　snow…blanketed　field　stretched　ahead　of　them　—　and　in　the　distance　Steele　could　see　the
spires　and　towers　of　Iota　Hive。　They　had　made　good　time；　all　things　considered。　The　crash　site　was
only　a　few　more　kilometres　away；　and　the　going　looked　set　to　be　a　lot　easier　from　now　on。　The　open
terrain　would　bring　its　own　problems；　however。　The　Ice　Warriors’　bottle…green　greatcoats　would
stand　out　like　beacons　to　anyone　who　overlooked　the　field　from　any　number　of　surrounding　hills。
And　they　would　leave　tracks　in　the　grey　snow；　but　there　was　no　way　around　that。
Fortunately；　the　sky　was　beginning　to　darken。　Steele　considered　waiting　for　a　while；　until　the
night　had　drawn　in　completely；　but　he　concluded　that　the　risks　of　so　doing　outweighed　the
advantages。　His　internal　chrono　was　ticking　away；　impossible　to　ignore。　It　was　counting　down　the
seconds　to　the　end　of　this　world；　making　him　acutely　aware　of　the　passing　of　each　one。
It　was　only　when　Gavotski　had　a　quiet　word　in　his　ear　that　he　realised　how　hard　he　had　been
pushing　his　squad；　how　exhausting　the　ice　forest　had　been　for　them。　He　conceded　that　they　should
take　a　short　rest；　while　they　had　some　cover。　The　Ice　Warriors　set　themselves　down　on　the　ground；
broke　out　their　rations　and　their　water　bags；　and　relaxed　for　the　first　time　in　a　good　few　hours。
The　break　buoyed　their　spirits；　and　Mikhaelev　and　Grayle　were　soon　engrossed　in　a　conversation
about　the　relative　merits　of　Lightning　and　Thunderbolt　fighters。　Grayle　was　enthusing　about　the　time
he　had　got　his　hands　on　the　controls　of　one　of　the　latter；　during　a　short　secondment　to　the　Imperial
Navy。
Gavotski；　in　the　meantime；　was　reciting　old　war　stories　to　an　attentive　Pozhar　and　Palinev；　while
Barreski　and　Borscz　had　resumed　their　good…natured　bickering。
“I’ll　make　you　a　deal；”　said　Barreski。　“When　this　mission　is　over；　we　will　have　a　contest：　my
flamer　against　your　hands；　and　we　will　see　which　is　the　more　deadly。”
“Then　you　had　best　hope　your　flamer　does　not　jam；”　said　Borscz　cheerfully；　“or　run　out　fuel；　and
that　you　do　not　miss　with　your　first　shot；　because　one　is　all　you　will　get。　After　that；　my　hands　will　be
around　your　throat；　and　there　will　be　no　doubt　about　the　outcome　then　—　because　my　hands；　I　can
rely　upon。”
“Oh；　I　never　miss；”　Barreski　assured　him；　“you　can　count　on　that。”
The　Validian　captain　had　warned　Steele　about　the　lake。
He　had　led　his　company　around　it　—　but　it　had　taken　him　the　better　part　of　a　day　to　do　so；　and
they　had　run　into　more　than　one　small　Chaos　encampment　in　the　process。　Steele　had　decided　that；　if
it　was　at　all　possible；　he　would　take　his　squad　across；　the　lake；　according　to　the　Validian；　was　far
narrower　than　it　was　long。
And　so　it　was　that；　after　a　short；　uneventful　trek　from　the　forest；　the　Ice　Warriors　came　to　the
nearest　bank　of　the　lake　and　stumbled　to　a　halt。　Steele　dropped　to　one　knee；　drew　a　long…bladed
knife　and　held　it　so　that　its　tip　rested　on　the　frozen　surface。　He　pushed　it　down　slowly；　measuring　the
resistance　it　encountered；　feeling　when　that　resistance　ended；　when　the　knife　tip　had　penetrated　the
ice　and　emerged　into　the　water　beneath　it。　By　the　time　it　did；　he　was　pleased　to　note　that　the　knife
was　buried　almost　to　its　hilt。　The　ice；　he　judged；　was　more　than　thick　enough　to　support　ten　men。
Even　so；　the　heavy　Borscz　was　understandably　apprehensive。　He　let　the　others　get　a　short　way
ahead　of　him　before　he　gingerly　placed　one　foot　on　the　ice；　and　then　slowly；　carefully　eased　his
great　bulk　onto　it。　By　the　time　he　had　taken　four　or　five　steps　in　this　manner；　however；　he　was
beginning　to　grow　in　confidence；　and　he　soon　caught　up　with　his　comrades。
The　Ice　Warriors　had　fanned　out　so　as　not　to　concentrate　their　weight　in　any　one　spot。　They
moved　slowly；　focusing　on　their　feet；　mindful　of　the　likely　consequences　should　any　of　them　slip
and　fall。　Steele　kept　his　ear　attuned　to　the　cracking；　creaking　sounds　of　the　ice　under　pressure；
hoping　that　those　sounds　would　warn　him　in　time　if　the　pressure　became　too　great。
The　lake；　he　had　been　told；　was　a　kilometre　across；　but　it　took　his　squad　almost　half　an　ho