Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第19章

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Should　the　voice　on　the　end　of　the　vox　genuinely　prove　to　be　Hawke；　then　they　would　have　a　first…rate　source　of　intelligence
regarding　the　enemy's　disposition；　strength　and　movements；　but　Vauban　wanted　to　be　absolutely　certain　before　he　made　any　kind
of　decision。　Magos　Naicin　was　at　this　very　moment　researching　the　logic　stacks　within　Arch　Magos　Amaethon's　Machine　Temple
for　some　way　of　detecting　whether　the　words　spoken　over　the　vox…caster　were　genuine；　though　he　hadn't　sounded　hopeful。　Naicin
had　balked　at　Vauban's　idea　of　employing　an　empathic　server　to　gauge　the　truth；　citing　the　unreliability　of　such　a　procedure
without　the　subject　actually　being　present。
For　now；　at　least；　it　looked　as　though　they　were　going　to　have　to　do　this　on　their　own。
Vauban　knew　of　Hawke；　having　seen　his　name　appear　on　more　disciplinary　reviews　than　he　cared　to　remember；　but　had　never　met
the　man。　Drunkenness；　disorderly　conduct；　brawling　and　theft　were　but　a　taster　of　the　trouble　Hawke　had　been　involved　in　and
Vauban　was　reminded　of　the　story　of　the　Hero　of　Chiros；　Jan　van　Yastobaal。　Lionised　by　the　people　of　the　Segmentum　Pacificus
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
as　a　true　hero　of　the　people；　Yastobaal　had　fought　in　the　wars　against　the　Apostate　Cardinal　Bucharis　during　the　Plague　of
Unbelief。　History　told　that　he　had　been　a　noble；　selfless　man　who　had　sacrificed　all　he　had　to　free　his　people。
Vauban　had　been　inspired　by　Yastobaal　as　a　youth　and　had　made　a　study　of　the　man　while　a　captain　in　the　Jouran　Planetary
Defence　Force。　The　deeper　he　researched　and　the　more　he　had　become　acquainted　with　the　real　Yastobaal；　the　more　he　had　found
him　to　be　a　reckless；　unorthodox　man；　prone　to　taking　unnecessary　gambles　with　his　mens'　lives。　Everything　he　read　of　the　man
spoke　of　a　rampant　ego　and　colossal　vanity　that　bordered　on　psychosis；　and　yet　there　was　still　much　to　admire　about　him。
But　read　any　Imperially　approved　historical　text　and　the　story　of　Yastobaal　would　be　told　as　a　noble　battle　of　courage　over
tyranny。
In　years　to　come；　what　would　the　history　books　say　of　Guardsman　Julius　Hawke？
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
TOR　CHRISTO
ONE
THE　VAST；　SOUTHERN　gate　of　the　citadel　measured　exactly　forty…four　metres　high；　thirty　metres　wide　and　was　known　as　the
Destiny　Gate。　Each　layered　half　of　the　bronze　gate　was　four　metres　thick　and　weighed　hundreds　of　tonnes。　No　one　knew　exactly
how　they　had　been　constructed；　when　they　had　been　brought　to　Hydra　Cordatus；　or　even　how　such　massive　portals　could　be
opened　with　such　ease。
Both　gates　were　covered　with　battle　scenes　etched　into　their　surfaces；　the　detail　obscured　by　the　ravages　of　time　and　green　trails　of
oxidation；　but　they　were　impressive　nonetheless。　Flanked　by　the　threatening　forms　of　Mori　and　Vincare　bastions；　they　were　set
within　the　sixty…metre　high　curtain　wall　of　the　citadel；　surrounded　by　carven　statuary。
Morning　sunlight　gleamed　gold　on　the　surface　as　the　gates　smoothly　swung　outwards；　the　battles　immortalised　on　their　faces
seeming　to　twist　with　life　as　the　light　caught　them。　At　last　they　were　opened　fully　and　massive　shapes　began　to　move　through　the
gateway　with　thunderous　footsteps。
Like　giants　from　legend；　the　Battle　Titans　of　the　Legio　Ignatum　marched　to　war；　their　armoured　hides　painted　in　vivid　reds　and
yellows；　the　power　in　their　mighty　steps　shaking　the　ground。　Huge　honour　banners　hung　between　their　massive　legs　and　enormous
kill　banners　fluttered　from　their　weapon　mounts；　a　litany　of　battle　and　victory　stretching　back　to　the　days　of　the　Great　Crusade；
unmatched　by　any　other　Titan　Legion。
Princeps　Fierach　commanded　the　Warlord　Titan　Imperator　Bellum；　marching　at　the　head　of　eleven　more　god…machines。　Another
two　Warlords　flanked　Fierach；　the　Honoris　Causa　and　the　Clavis　Regni；　their　princeps　similarly　eager　to　take　the　fight　to　the
enemy。　Fierach　brought　the　Imperator　Bellum　to　a　halt　at　the　open　rear　of　the　Primus　Ravelin；　the　soldiers　inside　cheering　as　his
thirty…metre　high　war　machine　raised　its　weapons　high　in　salute。
Yet　more　Titans　of　the　Legio　Ignatum　joined　their　Warlords。　Five　Reaver　Titans；　smaller　cousins　to　their　leader's　war　machine；
took　up　rear　positions　and　four　Warhound　Scout　Titans　loped　alongside　the　Battle　Titans。　The　Warhounds　split　into　pairs；　each
taking　position　on　the　flanks　of　the　larger　machines。　The　Titans　waited　in　the　shadow　of　the　counterguard　wall　as　the　armoured
units　of　the　Jouran　Dragoons　rumbled　from　the　citadel　and　swarmed　around　the　massive　feet　of　the　Battle　Titans。
From　his　elevated　position　in　the　head　of　the　Imperator　Bellum；　Princeps　Fierach　watched　the　mustering　of　the　tanks　and　infantry
carriers　with　mixed　emotions。　He　was　glad　of　their　support；　but　knew　that；　with　enemy　Titans　in　the　field；　they　could　be　unreliable
allies。　Fierach　knew　how　easy　it　could　be　to　break　the　courage　of　an　enemy　with　the　unstoppable　power　of　a　Titan。　Like　many
princeps　who　had　commanded　a　Titan　for　a　considerable　time；　Fierach　had　a　scornful　disregard　for　those　not　able　to　take　to　the
field　of　battle　as　he　did。　To　have　such　destructive　power　at　his　fingertips　bred　arrogance　and　a　withering　contempt　for　the
insignificant　weapons　and　machines　employed　by　those　armed　forces　without　the　heritage　of　the　Titan　Legions。
Fierach　sat　within　the　head　of　the　Imperator　Bellum；　wired　into　its　every　system　via　the　ancient　technologies　of　a　mind　impulse
unit。　Only　by　becoming　part　of　the　god…machine's　consciousness　was　it　possible　to　take　command　of　these　awesome　machines；　to
feel　each　motion　of　its　limbs　and　surge　of　power　along　its　fibre　bundle　muscles　as　though　they　were　his　own。
To　have　such　power　to　command　was　an　intoxicating　sensation　and；　when　not　joined　with　the　god…machine；　Fierach　felt　weak；
shackled　to　the　limitations　of　his　mortal　body。
Fierach　shifted　in　his　seat　and　meshed　his　senses　with　those　of　the　Titan；　allowing　the　barrage　of　information　the　sensorium　of　the
Imperator　Bellum　was　receiving　to　wash　over　him。　He　closed　his　eyes；　feeling　the　sudden　vertigo　as　his　mind's　eye　shifted　into　a
top…down　view；　depicting　the　battlefield　as　a　series　of　bright　contours　and　pulsing　blips。　Icons　representing　his　own　forces　and
those　of　the　Jourans　continued　to　mass　in　the　ditch　before　the　counterscarp　that　protected　the　base　of　the　walls　and　bastions。
Concealed　tunnels　sloped　upwards　through　the　ground；　emerging　on　the　plains　before　the　citadel；　allowing　the　armoured　units　of
the　Guard　to　rapidly　deploy　and　support　the　Titans。　Five　hundred　vehicles；　a　mix　of　battle　tanks　and　armoured　fighting　vehicles；
formed　up　in　lines　along　the　length　of　the　ditch；　smoke　belching　in　blue　clouds　from　their　throbbing　exhausts。
Fierach　was　unhappy　with　this　attack　and　had　voiced　his　concerns　to　Castellan　Vauban　in　the　strongest　terms；　but　he　was　a　senior
princeps　of　the　Legio　Ignatum　and　pledges　of　servitude　had　been　sworn　many　millennia　ago　between　the　Legio　and　the
commanders　of　this　citadel；　and　Fierach　would　not　be　known　as　an　oath　breaker。
It　reeked　of　desperation　to　Fierach　to　gamble　so　much　on　the　word　of　a　poor　soldier；　but　if　this　Hawke　was　correct；　then　they　had
an　opportunity　to　take　the　fight　to　the　enemy　before　they　were　able　to　properly　deploy　their　Battle　Titans。　Despite　his　reservations；
Fierach　was　elated　at　the　prospect　of　taking　his　warriors　into　battle。　While　their　duty　to　protect　this　citadel　was　sacrosanct；　it　was
not　the　most　satisfying　of　postings　for　a　warrior　who　had　forged　his　reputation　on　countless　battlefields　throughout　the　galaxy。　The
honour　and　kill　banners　hanging　from　the　Imperator　Bellum　were　the　latest　in　a　long　line。　Many　that　had　previously　been　carried
into　battle　were　now　hanging　in　the　Chapel　of　Victory　on　the　Legion's　homeworld　of　Mars；　their　roll　of　honour　scarcely　able　to
contain　the　sheer　number　of　battles　won　and　enemies　slain。
Fierach　removed　his　senses　from　the　tactical　plot；　grunting　in　satisfaction　as　Moderati　Yousen　reported；　'Lieutenant　Colonel
Leonid　reports　that　Force　Anvil　is　in　position　and　ready　to　move　out　on　your　order。'
Fierach　acknowledged　the　information　with　a　raised　finger；　impressed　at　the　efficiency　of　Leonid。　He　had　always　liked　Vauban's
second…in…command　more　than　the　castellan　himself；　feeling　that　Leonid　was　far　more　a　natural　warrior　than　Vauban。
'Very　good；　Moderati。　Open　a　channel　to　all　Titans。'
Yousen's　finger　danced　across　the　panel　before　him。　He　nodded　towards　his　princeps。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
'All　princeps；　this　is　Fierach。　You　all　know　what　to　do；　so　carry　out　your　orders。　I　wish　you　joy　of　the　day　and　good　hunting。　May
the　Emperor　guide　your　aim。'
He　closed　the　channel　without　waiting　for　a　response　and　trained　his　eyes　on　the　red　expanse　of　plain　that　stretched　before　his
Titan；　noting　the　distant　plumes　of　smoke　that　marked　the　locations　of　the　enemy　camp。
Fierach　whispered　a　mantra　of　salute　to　the　spirit　of　the　Imperator　Bellum　and　said；　'Engineer　Ulandro；　give　me　striding　speed。　We
go　to　battle。'
PRINCEPS　CARLSEN　RELISHED　the　sense　of　speed　that　coursed　through　his　body　as　his　Warhound　Titan；　the　Defensor　Fidei；
sprinted　ahead　of　the　Legio's　Battle　Titans。　Less　than　half　the　size　of　a　Reaver　Titan；　the　Warhound　was　an　agile　Scout　Titan；　the
forward　eyes　and　ears　of　the　Legio。　Less　well　armed　and　protected；　it　was　no　match　for　larger　Titans；　but　could　tear　apart　infantry
formations　with　a　combination　of　its　deadly　assault　weaponry　and　speed。
His　wingman；　the　Jure　Divinu；　thundered　alongside　him；　keeping　pace　with　his　evasive　manoeuvres　to　throw　off　any　incoming
fire　that　might　be　directed　at　them。　There　was　none　at　the　moment；　but　it　never　paid　to　be　too　complacent　when　your　void　shields
could　be　taken　out　with　one　good　volley。
Carlsen　turned　to　Moderati　Arkian　and　said；　'Anything？'
Arkian　shook　his　head。　'No；　not　yet。　But　it　won't　be　long　now。'
Carlsen　nodded　and　returned　his　attention　to　the　ground　before　him。　A　spur　of　rock　from　the　valley　sides　some　five　hundred
metres　away　offered　some　protection　should　it　prove　necessary　to　take　shelter　from　incoming　fire。　The　enemy　line　was　a　kilometre
away　and　he　knew　their　speed　would　protect　them　from　all　but　a　desperately　lucky　shot。
Behind　him；　advancing　abreast；　came　a　porti