Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第27章

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swathes　of　scaffolding　and　buttresses　had　been　erected　around　its　legs　as　hundreds　of　men　worked　to　try　and　repair　the　grievous
damage　done　to　it。　The　Titan's　upper　body　had　escaped　the　worst　of　the　blast　and　each　day　its　guns　would　fire　upon　the　citadel；
wreathing　its　walls　in　tremendous　explosions；　daring　its　enemy　to　come　out　and　face　it　once　more。
Tedeski　nodded；　'Nor　I。　It　was　an　honour　to　watch　so　brave　a　warrior　fight　such　a　diabolical　monster。　His　brother　Titans　will
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avenge　him　though。'
'And　who　will　avenge　us？'　pondered　Poulsen。
Tedeski　rounded　on　his　aide…de…camp　and　snapped；　'We　shall　not　need　avenging；　Captain　Poulsen；　and　I　will　have　words　with　any
man　who　publicly　voices　such　an　opinion。　Do　you　understand　me？'
'Yes；　sir；'　replied　Poulsen　hurriedly。　'I　only　meant—'
'I　know　what　you　meant；　Poulsen；　but　do　not　say　these　things　aloud；'　cautioned　Tedeski；　waving　his　arm　at　the　soldiers　who
manned　the　parapet　and　the　gunners　who　tended　their　artillery　pieces。
What　do　you　think　is　the　single　most　important　element　of　a　fortress；　Poulsen？　Its　walls？　Its　guns？　Its　position？　No。　It　is　the　men
who　stand　behind　its　walls　and　say　to　the　enemy；　〃No；　you　shall　not　take　this　place〃。　The　fighting　spirit　of　these　men　is　all　that
keeps　the　enemy　beyond　these　walls　and　only　by　standing　together；　with　faith　in　the　Emperor　and　an　utter　belief　in　our　ability　to
hold；　will　we　prevail。　Regardless　of　the　facts；　the　men　need　to　believe　that　we　believe　the　Christo　can　hold。　Otherwise　we　are　lost。'
Poulsen　nodded　thoughtfully　before　saying；　'Do　you　believe　we　can　hold；　sir？'
Tedeski　returned　his　gaze　to　the　plains　below。　'Ultimately；　no；　we　cannot　hold。　Tor　Christo　will　fall；　but　we　will　hold　it　for　as　long
as　we　can。　When　I　decide　that　the　day　is　lost；　I　will　order　the　withdrawal　along　the　tunnels　and　overload　our　reactor　to　blow　this
place　apart　before　I　allow　these　bastards　to　make　use　of　the　Christo。'
HONSOU　PUSHED　ASIDE　an　emaciated　slave　worker　and　followed　Forrix　along　the　twisting　trench　that　led　to　the　forward　parallel。
As　the　two　Iron　Warriors　passed；　slaves　hurriedly　dropped　their　shovels　and　picks　and　abased　themselves　before　their　masters。
Neither　Forrix　nor　Honsou　paid　the　wretched　creatures　any　heed；　too　intent　on　the　looming　shape　of　Tor　Christo　above　them。
Honsou　felt　the　familiar　anticipation　as　they　stepped　into　the　main　parallel　and　he　saw　the　thoroughness　with　which　it　had　been
constructed。
It　had　been　dug　to　a　depth　of　three　metres；　the　wall　nearest　Tor　Christo　angled　inwards　to　minimise　the　effect　of　airbursting　shells。
Propped　dugouts　were　cut　into　the　trench　sides　where　slaves　slept；　ate　and　died。　Too　bone…weary　to　dispose　of　their　dead　in　any
other　way；　corpses　were　pushed　to　the　side　of　the　trench；　the　rotted　remains　filling　the　air　with　the　stench　of　decay。　Timber　boards
on　iron　sleepers　were　laid　across　the　base　of　the　trench　and　Honsou　was　impressed　with　the　speed　with　which　Forrix　had　driven
the　trench　forward。
'The　first　battery　will　be　here；'　said　Forrix；　pointing　to　a　portion　of　the　trench　Honsou　estimated　was　some　six　hundred　metres　from
the　base　of　the　mountain。　He　could　see　that　work　had　already　begun　on　widening　the　trench。　Thick　sheets　of　steel　were　piled　at　the
entrance　to　the　new　battery；　ready　to　be　laid　across　the　ground　to　enable　the　big　guns　to　fire　without　their　recoil　burying　them　in
the　ground。
Honsou　nodded；　looking　up　towards　Tor　Christo；　picturing　the　angle　of　fire　this　guns　placed　in　this　battery　would　have。
The　most　vulnerable　point　of　any　fortification　was　its　salient　angles；　the　projecting　points　of　its　bastions　where　the　ground　in　front
was　not　covered　by　direct　fire　from　the　parapet。　Forrix　had　dug　the　main　sap　directly　towards　the　central　bastion；　with　this　forward
parallel　constructed　well　within　the　range　of　the　fort's　guns；　but　protected　by　their　depth　and　earthen　ramparts。
Honsou　could　see　that　batteries　were　being　dug　to　either　side　of　the　bastion's　salient；　angled　inwards　so　that　the　guns　placed　there
would　fire　perpendicular　to　the　face　of　the　bastion　and　break　it　open　efficiently。　Once　the　walls　had　been　breached　with　direct
firing　guns；　howitzers　would　send　screaming　shells　into　the　gap　to　sweep　it　clear　of　enemy　infantry　before　the　main　attack　went　in。
Even　so；　it　was　sure　to　be　a　bloody　enterprise。
There　was　a　pleasing　inevitability　to　the　mechanics　of　a　siege　thought　Honsou；　as　he　watched　dying　slaves　digging　the　gun
battery。　He　had　heard　tales　that　in　ages　past　there　was　a　prescribed　series　of　stages　an　attacker　would　be　forced　to　go　through
before　it　was　deemed　that　he　had　done　enough　to　earn　the　surrender　of　a　garrison。　Once　it　had　been　decreed　that　both　forces　had
done　all　that　honour　demanded；　the　defenders　would　surrender　and　be　allowed　to　quit　the　fortress　carrying　their　weapons　with
their　colours　raised　high。　Such　a　notion　was　clearly　ludicrous；　and　Honsou　could　not　imagine　a　time　when　he　would　accept　an
enemy's　surrender。
Once　the　Iron　Warriors　began　a　siege；　there　was　no　way　to　stop　it。
When　the　great　Perturabo　had　still　led　his　warriors　in　battle；　he　offered　his　foes　one　chance　to　surrender　before　he　had　even
planted　a　single　shovel　in　the　ground。　Should　that　offer　be　refused；　there　would　be　no　others；　and　such　a　siege　could　end　only　one
way：　in　blood　and　death。
'You　have　sited　your　batteries　well；　Forrix；'　noted　Honsou。
Forrix　nodded　briefly；　accepting　the　compliment。　'I　do　not　believe　we　need　to　dig　any　further。　To　do　so　is　pointless　…　we　would
expose　ourselves　needlessly　to　airbursting　shells　and　the　slope　of　the　promontory　will　obscure　the　walls　of　the　fortress　should　we
press　forward。'
Honsou　saw　that　Forrix　was　correct。　'What　about　the　batteries　at　the　foot　of　the　mountain？　This　will　be　well　within　their　ideal
range　and　the　guns　here　will　undoubtedly　be　targeted。'
'I　realise　that；　Honsou；　but　when　our　guns　are　in　place　I　will　lead　warriors　from　my　company　to　take　the　enemy　gun　positions　by
storm。'
Honsou　narrowed　his　eyes；　aware　that　Forrix　had　called　him　by　his　name　for　the　first　time。　Then　the　notion　that　he　would　be
denied　the　chance　to　capture　the　guns　he　had　discovered　hit　him　and　he　snarled；　You　will　capture　the　lower　guns？　I　discovered
them；　the　honour　of　their　capture　should　be　mine！'
'No；　Honsou；　I　have　another　task　for　you。'
'Oh；　and　what　would　that　be？　Keeping　the　guns　fed　with　shells？　Guarding　slaves？'
Forrix　said　nothing　and　pointed　to　a　gap　in　the　trench　wall　that　was　filled　with　sandbags　and　defended　by　a　full　squad　of　Iron
Warriors。
'When　the　time　is　right；　you　will　lead　the　storming　parties　from　this　point　and　take　the　breach。　You　will　hold　it　until　the　human
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soldiers　are　able　to　scale　the　rock　face　and　escalade　the　walls　with　ladders　and　grapples。'
Honsou　opened　his　mouth　to　retort；　then　snapped　it　shut　as　he　realised　the　honour　of　the　task　he　was　being　given。　His　chest
swelled　with　pride　before　his　natural　cynicism　and　suspicion　came　to　the　fore。
'Why；　Forrix？　Why　do　you　do　me　this　honour？　You　have　done　nothing　before　now　but　deride　me　and　keep　me　in　my　place　as　a
mongrel；　a　half…breed。'
Forrix　was　silent　for　long　seconds；　as　though　he　himself　did　not　know　exactly　why　he　had　made　such　an　offer。　He　turned　from　the
mountain　and　faced　Honsou。
'There　was　a　time　I　thought　like　you　do；　Honsou。　A　time　when　I　believed　we　fought　for　something　more　important　than　simple
revenge；　but　as　the　millennia　of　battle　ground　on；　I　came　to　realise　that　there　was　no　point　to　what　we　did。　Nothing　ever　changed
and　nothing　brought　us　closer　to　victory。　I　have　been　too　long　from　the　field　of　battle；　Honsou；　and　as　I　watched　you　fight　the
Imperials；　I　knew　that　in　your　heart；　you　are　an　Iron　Warrior。　You　still　believe　in　the　dream　of　Horus；　I　lost　my　hold　on　it　many
centuries　ago。'
Forrix　grinned　suddenly。　'And　the　fact　that　it　will　send　Kroeger　into　a　towering　rage。'
Honsou　laughed；　feeling　uncharacteristically　charitable　towards　the　venerable　Forrix。
'That　it　will；　Forrix；　but　he　will　be　shamed　by　your　decision。　Are　you　sure　you　are　wise　to　antagonise　Kroeger　in　this　way？　He
descends　further　into　the　grasp　of　the　Blood　God　with　each　passing　day。'
'The　young…blood　is　nothing　to　me。　I　see　nothing　for　him　beyond　mindless　slaughter；　but　you…　for　you　I　see　great　things。　The
Warsmith　does　too；　I　see　it　every　time　he　speaks　to　you。'
Honsou　said；　'In　that　I　think　you　are　mistaken。　He　hates　me。'
'True；　and　yet　you　lead　one　of　his　grand　companies'　pointed　out　Forrix。
'Only　because　Borak　died　at　Magnot　Four…Zero　and　the　Warsmith　has　not　yet　named　his　successor。'
'Again　true；　but　ask　yourself　this：　how　long　ago　was　the　Battle　at　Magnot　Four…Zero？'
'Nearly　two　hundred　years。'
'Aye；　and　do　you　think　that　in　all　that　time　the　Warsmith　could　not　have　found　someone　to　lead　the　company？'
'Obviously　not；　or　he　would　have　done　so。'
Forrix　sighed　and　snapped；　'Perhaps　that　tainted　blood　of　yours　has　made　you　as　slow…witted　as　Dorn's　lap…dogs　from　whence　it
comes！　Think；　Honsou。　Had　the　Warsmith　named　you　Borak's　successor　there　and　then；　would　any　of　his　warriors　have　accepted
you？　No；　of　course　not；　and　nor　should　they　have；　because　to　them　you　were　just　a　despised　half…breed。'
'Not　a　lot　has　changed；　Forrix。'
'Then　you　are　more　foolish　than　I　took　you　to　be；'　snarled　Forrix；　marching　back　along　the　trench　to　the　supply　depots　and　leaving
Honsou　confused　and　alone　in　the　half…finished　battery。
FIVE
THE　MACHINE　TEMPLE　at　the　heart　of　the　citadel　pulsed　with　barely　contained　power　as　though　the　very　walls　themselves　breathed
with　an　inner　life　or　sentience。　Its　structure　was　strangely　organic；　though　the　chamber　was　built　in　honour　of　exactly　the　opposite。
The　mass　of　the　chamber　achinery　that　infested　the　space　like　a　gigantic　coral　reef；　steadily　growing　and
increasing　its　mass　with　every　passing　year。　A　sickly　amber　glow　permeated　the　chamber；　alongside　a　low；　throbbing　hum；　just　at
the　threshold　of　hearing。
Shaven…headed　technicians　and　servitors　in　faded；　yellow　robes　wandered　like　ghosts　through　the　bewilderingly　complex　labyrinth
of　machines；　their　ministrations　to　the　holy　technologies　ritualised　over　thousands　of　years　to