Fifteen Hours(科幻战争)-第4章

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mouthful　of　poison　gas　on　a　world　called　Torpus　III；　yet　still　he　didn’t　waver　in　his　duty。　He　had
given　his　life　over　to　the　service　of　the　Emperor；　and　he　was　content　that　it　was　at　the　Emperor’s
will　whether　he　lived　or　died。
“Then　one　day；　as　the　time　grew　closer　when　they　would　be　leaving　Jumael；　news　came　among
the　regiment　of　something　extraordinary。　Emperor’s　Day　was　coming；　and　with　it　the　thirtieth
anniversary　of　the　founding　of　their　regiment。　As　an　act　of　celebration　it　was　decreed　that　lots　would
be　drawn　from　among　all　the　men；　and　whichever　man　won　would　be　released　from　service　and
allowed　to　remain　behind　when　the　regiment　left　Jumael。　A　lottery　that；　for　one　man　among
thousands；　might　well　mean　the　difference　between　life　and　death。　As　the　day　of　the　lottery　came
upon　them　there　was　a　sudden　outbreak　of　piety　among　the　men；　as　each　man　in　the　regiment　prayed
fervently　to　the　Emperor　to　be　the　one　to　be　chosen。　All　except　your　great…grandfather。　For　though
he　prayed　to　the　Emperor　every　morning　and　night；　it　was　never　his　way　to　ask　for　anything　for
himself。”
“And　so　great…grandfather　won　the　lottery？”　Larn　asked；　breathless　with　excitement　and　no
longer　able　to　keep　his　peace。　“He　won　it；　and　that’s　how　he　came　to　live　on　Jumael？”
“No；　Arvie；”　his　father　smiled　benignly。　“Another　man　won。　A　man　from　the　same　squad　as
your　great…grandfather；　who’d　fought　by　his　side　through　thirty　years　of　campaigning。　Though　that
man　could’ve　just　taken　his　ticket　and　walked　away；　he　didn’t。　Instead；　he　looked　at　your　greatgrandfather
with　his　worn…out　face　and　half…healed　lungs　and　handed　him　the　ticket。　You　see；　he’d
decided　your　great…grandfather　needed　to　be　released　from　service　more　than　he　did。　And　that’s　how
your　great…grandfather　came　to　settle　on　Jumael　IV；　through　the　kindness　and　self…sacrifice　of　a
comrade。　Though　in　the　years　to　come；　your　great…grandfather　would　always　say　there　was　more　to
it　than　that。　He　would　say　sometimes　the　hand　of　the　Emperor　can　be　seen　in　the　smallest　of　things；
and　that　it　was　the　Emperor　who　had　decided　to　work　through　this　man　to　save　his　life。　In　the　end　it
was　a　miracle　of　sorts。　A　quiet　miracle；　perhaps；　but　a　miracle　all　the　same。”
With　that；　his　father　fell　silent　again。　Looking　at　him　Larn　could　see　the　first　beginnings　of　tears
shining　wetly　in　his　eyes。　Then；　at　length；　his　father　spoke　once　more；　his　every　word　heavy　with
barely　suppressed　emotion。
“You　see　now　why　I　thought　you　should　hear　the　tale；　Arvie？”　he　said。　“Tomorrow；　just　like
your　great…grandfather　before　you；　you’re　going　to　have　to　leave　your　home　and　your　kin　behind；
never　to　return。　And；　knowing　full　well　you　may　have　some　hard　years　ahead　of　you；　before　you　left
I　wanted　you　to　hear　the　tale　of　your　great…grandfather　and　how　he　survived。　I　wanted　you　to　be　able
to　take　that　tale　with　you。　So　that　no　matter　how　dark；　even　hopeless；　things　might　seem　to　you　at
times；　you’d　know　the　Emperor　was　always　with　you。　Trust　to　the　Emperor；　Arvie。　Sometimes　it’s
all　that　we　can　do。　Trust　to　the　Emperor；　and　everything　will　be　all　right。”
No　longer　able　to　keep　the　tears　from　flowing；　his　father　turned　away　so　his　son　could　not　see　his
eyes。　While　his　father　cried　into　the　shadows　Larn　sat　there　with　him　as　long　uncomfortable
moments　passed；　struggling　to　find　the　right　words　to　soothe　his　grief。　Until　finally；　deciding　it　was
better　to　say　something　than　nothing　at　all；　he　spoke　and　broke　the　silence。
“I’ll　remember　that；　Pa；”　he　said；　the　words　coming　with　faltering　slowness　from　him　as　he　tried
to　choose　the　best　way　of　saying　it。　“I’ll　remember　every　word　of　it。　Like　you　said；　I’ll　take　it　with
me　and　I’ll　think　of　it　whenever　things　get　bad。　And　I　promise　you：　I’ll　do　what　you　said。　I’ll　trust　to
the　Emperor；　just　like　you　said。　I　promise　it；　Pa。　And　something　else。　I　promise；　you　don’t　have　to
worry　about　me　doing　my　best　when　I　go　to　war。　No　matter　what　happens；　I’ll　always　do　my　duty。”
“I　know　you　will；　Arvie；”　his　father　said　at　last　as　he　wiped　the　tears　from　his　eyes。　“You’re　the
best　son　a　man　could　have。　And　when　you’re　a　Guardsman；　I　know　you’ll　make　your　Ma　and　me
proud。”
12
CHAPTER　TWO
12：07　hours　Jumal　IV　Central　Planetary　Time
（Western　Summer　Adjustment）
Marching　Practice　—　Conversations　with　Sergeant　Ferres　—　A　Meal　Among　Comrades
“Hup　Two　Three　four。　Hup　two　three　four。”　Sergeant　Ferres　yelled；　keeping　pace　with　the　men　of
3rd　Platoon　as　they　marched　the　dusty　length　of　the　parade　ground。　“You　call　that　marching？　I’ve
seen　more　order　and　discipline　in　a　pack　of　shithouse　rats。”
Marching　in　time　with　the　others；　painfully　aware　of　his　own　visibility；　Larn　found　himself
silently　praying　his　feet　kept　in　step。　His　place　midway　along　the　platoon’s　left　outer　file　put　him　out
in　plain　view　right　under　the　sergeant’s　eyes。　The　two　months’　worth　of　basic　training　he　had
endured　so　far　had　left　him　with　few　illusions　as　to　what　happened　to　those　who　failed　to　live　up　to
the　sergeant’s　exacting　standards。
“Keep　your　feet　up；”　the　sergeant　screamed。　“You’re　not　courting　in　the　wheat　fields　with　your
cousins　now；　you　inbreeds！　You　are　soldiers　of　the　Imperial　Guard；　Emperor　help　us。　Put　some　vim
into　it。”　Then；　seeing　the　platoon　was　nearly　at　the　far　edge　of　the　parade　ground；　Ferres　yelled
again；　his　voice　strident　and　shrill　with　command。　“Platoon。　About　face。　And　march。”
Turning　smartly　on　his　heel　with　the　others；　as　they　resumed　marching　Larn　found　himself
feeling　dog…tired　and　exhausted。　So　far　today；　like　each　of　the　sixty　days　before　it；　Ferres　had　had
them　running　training　exercises　since　dawn。　Marching；　weapons　drill；　kit　inspection；　hand…to…hand
training；　basic　survival　skills：　every　day　was　a　never…ending　series　of　challenges　and　tests。　Larn　felt
he　had　learnt　more　in　the　last　two　months　than　he　had　in　his　entire　life。　Yet；　no　matter　how　much　he
and　the　rest　of　the　platoon　learned　or　how　well　you　did；　none　of　it　seemed　to　satisfy　their　vengeful
sergeant。
“Hup　two　three　four。　Keep　in　step；　damn　you；”　the　sergeant　bellowed。　“I’ll　keep　the　whole
damned　lot　of　you　drilling　here　for　another　two　hours　if　that’s　what　it　takes　to　make　you　keep　to
time！”
Larn　did　not　doubt　Ferres　meant　his　threat。　Over　the　last　two　months　the　sergeant　had　repeatedly
shown　an　inclination　to　hand　out　draconian　punishments　for　even　the　most　minor　infractions。
Having　been　on　the　receiving　end　of　such　punishments　more　than　once　already；　Larn　had　learned　to
dread　the　sergeant　and　his　idea　of　discipline。
“Company　halt；”　Sergeant　Ferres　yelled　at　last；　hawkish　eyes　watching　to　see　if　any　of　the
Guardsmen　overran　their　mark。　Then；　apparently　satisfied　that　every　man　had　stopped　the　instant
they　heard　his　order；　he　yelled　again；　loudly　elongating　every　syllable　of　the　command。　“Turn　to　the
left！”
With　a　sudden　clatter　of　clicking　heels　the　company　turned　to　face　their　sergeant。　Seeing　Ferres
advance　purposefully　towards　them；　Larn　did　his　best　to　keep　his　shoulders　back　and　his　spine
ramrod　straight；　his　eyes　staring　fixedly　ahead　as　though　gazing　blindly　into　the　middle　distance。　He
knew　enough　of　Sergeant　Ferres’　ways　by　now　to　know　that　an　inspection　would　follow
immediately　they　had　finished　marching。　Just　as　he　knew　Ferres　would　not　be　any　kinder　to　the
soldier　who　failed　to　pass　muster　now　than　he　would　to　anyone　whose　marching　did　not　meet　his
standards。
13
From　the　corner　of　his　eye　Larn　saw　Sergeant　Ferres　move　to　the　end　of　the　outer　file　of
Guardsmen　to　begin　his　inspection。　Moving　slowly　along　the　line　to　inspect　each　man　in　turn；　the
sergeant’s　dark　eyes　darted　swiftly　up　and　down；　scanning　for　any　flaent；　dress　or
manner。　At　times　like　these；　no　matter　where　in　line　he　stood；　it　always　felt　to　Larn　as　though　it　took
the　sergeant　forever　to　reach　him。　A　slow　torturous　eternity；　spent　waiting　like　the　head　of　a　nail　to
be　struck　by　the　hammer　—　all　the　time　knowing　that；　no　matter　how　well　he　had　worked　or　what
precautions　he　had　taken；　the　hammer　would　fall　regardless。
Abruptly；　still　three　men　away　from　Larn；　the　sergeant　stopped　to　turn　and　face　the　fair…haired
trooper　standing　in　front　of　him。　It　was　Trooper　Leden　—　his　favourite　target。　Tall　and　broadshouldered；
with　a　thick　neck　and　big　hands；　Leden　looked　even　more　the　farmboy　than　the　rest　of
the　men　in　the　company。　Even　now；　standing　to　attention　under　Ferres’　withering　glare；　Leden’s
face　was　open　and　guileless；　his　mouth　looking　as　though　it　could　break　into　a　warm　and　friendly
smile　at　any　moment。
“Your　lasgun；　trooper；”　the　sergeant　said。　“Give　it　to　me。”　Then；　taking　the　gun　from　Leden’s
outstretched　hands；　he　checked　the　safety；　before　inspecting　the　rest　of　the　gun　in　turn。
“What　is　the　best　way　for　a　Guardsmen　to　prevent　his　lasgun　from　failing　him　in　battle？”　Ferres
asked；　eyes　boring　into　Leden’s　face　as　he　spoke。
“I…　uh…　first　he　should　check　the　power　pack　is　not　empty。　Then；　reciting　the　Litany　of
Unjamming；　he　should…”
“I　asked　what　is　the　best　way　to　prevent　a　Guardsman’s　lasgun　from　failing　him；　Leden；”　the
sergeant　said；　cutting　him　off。　“Not　how　he　should　clear　a　jam　after　it　malfunctions！”
“Umm…”　for　a　moment　Leden　seemed　stymied；　until　his　eyes　lit　up　with　sudden　inspiration。
“The　Guardsman　should　clean　his　lasgun　every　day；　taking　care　to　recite　the　Litany　of　Cleanliness
as　he…”
“And　if；　because　he　has　failed　in　his　duty　to　keep　his　lasgun　clean；　the　Guardsman　finds　his
weapon　jams　in　the　heat　of　battle　and　he　cannot　fix　it？”　the　sergeant　cut　him　off　again。　“What　then；
Leden？　How　should　the　Guardsman　proceed？”
“He　should　fix　his　bayonet　to　the　mounting　lugs　on　his　lasgun’s　flash　suppressor；　sergeant；　and
use　it　to　defend　himself；”　Leden　replied；　an　edge　of　pride　to　his　voice　now　as　though　he　was　sure　he
had　finally　answered　one　of　his　sergeant’s　questions　correctly。
“In　the　heat　of　combat？　With　the　enemy　right　on　top　of　him？　What　if　he　doesn’t　have　time　to　fix
his　bayonet；　Leden？”
“Then；　he　should　use　his　lasgun　as　a　club；　sergeant。”
“A　club　you　say？”　the　sergeant　asked；　suddenly　placing　both　his　hands　at　the　end　of　the