Death World(科幻战争)-第3章

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turn　their　heads　upwards　and　thank　the　Emperor　for　sending　them　such　an　omen。　The　thought　made
him　feel　good。　It　almost　made　him　forget　that　he　hadn’t　touched　ground　himself　yet。
There　had　been　a　reallocation　of　troops　a　few　days　earlier。　The　commander　of　C　Platoon；
Lieutenant　Vines；　had　disbanded　one　squad　and　reassigned　its　members　to　bring　the　rest　up　to
strength。　Greiss’　squad　had　two　new　arrivals　to　complete　its　complement　often—and　old　hands
Myers　and　Storm　were　currently　passing　the　time　by　quizzing　one　of　them；　a　nervy　youngster　by　the
name　of　Landon。
Landon　was　eager　to　please；　bragging　about　a　time　back　on　Catachan　when　he’d　wrestled　a
blackback　viper　single…handed。　Myers　and　Storm　were　pretending　to　be　impressed；　but　Lorenzo
knew　they　were　poking　fun　at　the　rookie。
The　other　newcomer；　Patch　Armstrong；　had　an　easier　ride。　It　had　taken　an　ambush　by　four　ice
apes　on　the　frozen　world　of　Tundrar　to　deprive　Armstrong　of　his　left　eye—and　even　then　he　had
snapped　the　spine　of　one　beast；　gutted　two　more　and　gunned　down　the　fourth　as　it　had　fled。　The
patch　he　wore；　and　the　crooked　ends　of　the　scar　that　protruded　above　and　below　it；　were　his　badges
of　honour。　Like　Dougan’s　leg；　and　the　plate　in　Sergeant　Greiss’　head。
The　drop　ship　was　being　shaken。
It　had　only　been　a　little　at　first；　but　now　it　was　growing　stronger。　Sharkbait　Muldoon　had　rolled
up　the　left　sleeve　of　his　jacket　to　paint　his　own；　better；　camouflage　pattern　directly　onto　his　skin；
layering　on　natural　dyes　with　his　knife；　he　let　out　a　curse　as　the　blade　slipped　and　nicked　his　arm。
Lorenzo　said　nothing；　but　his　fingers　tightened　around　the　armrests　of　his　seat。
“Must　be　one　hell　of　a　storm；”　commented　Woods。　But　Lorenzo　observed　that　Greiss’　jaw　was
set；　his　teeth　clenched；　his　nostrils　flaring；　and　he　knew　this　was　no　mere　storm。
Then；　just　like　that；　they　were　falling。
The　drop　ship　plummeted　like　a　brick；　like　it　had　when　it　had　first　been　launched　from　its
mother。　Lorenzo’s　stomach　was　in　his　mouth　again；　had　he　not　been　strapped　in；　he　would　have
been　slammed　into　the　ceiling。　Woods；　cocky　as　ever；　had　loosened　his　own　restraints；　and　now　he
was　fighting　to　hold　himself　down　as　g…forces　rippled　the　skin　of　his　cheeks。
For　eight　long　seconds；　Lorenzo　was　facing　his　worst　nightmare。　Then　the　engines　caught　them
and　they　were　flying　level　again；　but　still　buffeted；　the　deck　lurching　unpredictably　beneath　their
feet。　Behind　the　din　of　the　protesting　hull；　the　soft；　artificial　voice　of　the　navigation　servitor　sounded
over　the　vox…caster：
“Warning：　extreme　atmospheric　turbulence　encountered。　Destination　coordinates　no　longer
attainable。　Prepare　for　emergency　landing。　Repeat；　prepare　for　emergency　landing！”
The　first　impact　came　almost　as　soon　as　the　warning　was　issued。
Lorenzo　had　barely　had　time　to　get　into　the　brace　position；　his　chin　on　his　chest；　his　hands
clasped　over　his　head。　It　felt　like　someone　had　taken　a　sledgehammer　to　every　bone　in　his　body　at
once。　And　then　it　happened　again；　with　only　marginally　less　force　this　second　time。
9
The　drop　ship　was　skipping　along　the　ground；　its　engines　shrieking。　Lorenzo　was　rattled　in　his
seat；　his　straps　biting　into　his　chest。　He　concentrated　on　keeping　his　muscles　relaxed；　despite　the
situation；　knowing　that　to　resist　the　repeated　shocks　would　do　him　more　harm　than　good。
Then　they　hit　the　ground　for　the　final　time；　but　they　were　still　barrelling　forwards；　and　the　scrape
of　earth　and　branches　against　the　outer　hull　was　almost　deafening。　Rogar　III；　as　Donovits　had　taken
pleasure　in　informing　everyone；　was　blanketed　in　jungle。　There　were　no　open　spaces　in　which　to
land；　but　for　those　cleared　with　axe　and　flame。　Lorenzo　pictured　the　scene　outside　the　drop　ship’s
hull　now；　as　it　ploughed　through　tangled　vegetation；　the　servitors　straining　to　rein　in　its　speed　before
it　hit　something　that　wouldn’t　yield　to　its　considerable　mass。　Before　it　crumpled　in　on　itself　like　a
ball　of　paper。
And　then；　at　last；　they　were　still；　the　engines　letting　out　a　last　dying　whine　as　the　drop　ship’s
superstructure　creaked　and　settled。　The　lighting　flickered　and　cut　out；　and　Lorenzo　could　see　nothing
in　the　sudden　total　darkness。　But　he　knew　his　way　to　the　hatchway；　and　his　squad　was　the　closest　to
it。
The　drop　ship　had　come　to　rest　at　an　angle。　The　deck　was　tilted　some　forty…five　degrees　to　the
horizontal；　so　Lorenzo　had　to　climb　to　reach　his　goal。　He　swung　himself　from　one　empty　seat　to　the
next；　using　their　backs　to　keep　his　balance　and　his　bearings。　From　all　around；　he　could　hear　the
sounds　of　buckles　popping　and　men　leaping　to　their　feet。
He　was　almost　there　when　he　realised　he　had　been　beaten　to　it。　The　hatch　had　buckled　a　little
and　was　sticking　in　its　frame；　but　Woods　managed　to　shoulder　it　open　even　as　Lorenzo　was　about　to
lend　him　a　hand。　First　a　crack；　then　a　rectangle　of　brilliant　light　blazed　in　Lorenzo’s　eyes；　and　he
blinked　to　clear　the　patterns　it　burnt　into　his　retinas。
In　the　meantime；　Woods　had　clambered　out　onto　the　angled　side　of　the　ship。　“Hey；”　he　called
down　to　the　others　enthusiastically。　“You’ve　got　to　see　this。　It’s　a　beautiful　evening！”
Lorenzo　frowned。　The　upturned　hatchway　offered　him　the　familiar　sight　of　a　jungle　canopy—but
behind　the　greens　and　browns；　the　leaves　and　the　branches；　the　sky　appeared　to　be　a　perfect；　deep
blue；　free　from　cloud。　Woods　was　right。　If　there　had　been　a　storm；　it　had　passed；　impossibly；
without　trace。　But　then；　what　else　could　have　tossed　the　drop　ship　about　like　that？
It　was　there　again：　that　sense　of　wrongness　he　had　felt　in　the　warp。　He　needed　to　get　out　into　the
open。　The　rest　of　the　platoon　were　crowding　up　behind　him　anyway；　so　Lorenzo　followed　the　sweet
scent　of　fresh　air；　mingled　though　it　was　with　the　stench　of　burning。　He　gripped　the　sides　of　the
hatchway　and　pulled　himself　up　and　out　through　it。
He　had　barely　raised　his　head　above　the　parapet　and　started　to　take　in　his　new　surroundings；
when　Trooper　Woods　pushed　him　down　again；　with　a　warning　yell：　“Incoming！”
Three　plants　were　shuffling　towards　the　drop　ship。　They　looked　like　the　mantraps　of　Catachan；
but　taller。　Three　bulbous　pink　heads；　surely　too　heavy　for　their　stalks　to　support；　split　open　like
mouths。　No　teeth　within；　though。　These　plants　were　spitters。
Three　jets　of　clear　liquid　plumed　through　the　air。　Lorenzo　and　Woods　tumbled　back　into　the
drop　ship　together。　Woods　had　been　hit；　a　thick　gobbet　of　acid　sizzling　on　his　arm。　He　whipped　out
his　knife—a　devil　claw；　typically　ostentatious—and　half…cut；　half…tore　his　sleeve　away　before　it　was
eaten　through。　Still；　the　attack　had　left　a　livid　red　burn　on　his　skin。
Somewhere；　not　far　away；　a　carrion　bird　was　screeching　in　delight。
“So；　how’s　it　looking　out　there？”　asked　Greiss—and　Lorenzo　realised　that　the　sergeant　was
addressing　him。
A　smile　tugged　at　his　lips　as　he　gave　the　traditional　answer：　“Reckon　I’m　going　to　like　this
place；　sergeant。　It　reminds　me　of　home！”
10
CHAPTER　TWO
The　air　outside　the　hatch　filled　with　acid　spray　again；　and　a　few　drops　made　it　inside　the　ship。　The
Catachans　withdrew　from　the　danger　area；　those　at　the　front　yelling　at　the　others　to　get　back。
Lorenzo’s　bandolier　was　splashed—only　a　little；　but　enough　to　leave　a　steaming　hole　in　the　fabric。
Sergeant　Greiss　had　shouldered　his　way　up　to　Lorenzo　and　Woods　through　the　crush。　The
platoon　commander　was　only　a　few　steps　behind　him。　Lieutenant　Vines　was　a　quiet…voiced；
unassuming　man—but；　because　he　had　earned　his　rank；　been　elected　to　it　by　his　fellow　Catachans；
they　listened　when　he　spoke。　He　asked　the　two　troopers　to　describe　what　they’d　seen；　and　Woods
told　him　about　the　spitting　plants。　“Three　of　them；　sir；”　Lorenzo　confirmed；　“at　two　o’clock。”
“Who’s　your　best　marksman；　sergeant？”
Without　hesitation；　Greiss　answered；　“Bullseye；　sir。　Trooper　Myers。”　As　he　spoke；　he　seized　the
shoulder　of　a　wiry；　dark…skinned　man；　and　pulled　him　forward。
“You　know　what　to　do；　Myers；”　said　Vines。
With　a　nod　of　understanding；　Myers　drew　his　lasgun。　He　waited　a　few　seconds　to　be　sure　it　was
safe；　then　darted　up　to　the　sloping　hatchway。
As　soon　as　he　popped　his　head　up　into　the　open；