HH荷鲁斯叛乱《异端初现》渣翻7

A primarch lay in the dust, surrounded by his warriors. None present had ever witnessed such a thing. Argel Tal’s bolter was raised, aimed at the ranks of Ultramarines who mirrored the gesture in kind. A hundred gun barrels levelled at a hundred housand. The Seventh Captain needed three attempts to form words.
‘Hold your fire,’ he whispered into the general vox-channel. ‘Do not fire unless fired upon.’
Lorgar rested the immense crozius mace on his golden shoulder. Hisgrey eyes flickered with uncertain emotion as he bared his teeth at the fallen Lord of Macragge.

‘You will never mock me again, brother. Is that understood?’
Guilliman’s rise was slow, almost hesitant. The golden eagle on his breastplate was split, a valley-crack running through its body.
‘You go too far,’ a softer voice said. Malcador, First Lord of Terra, still clutched his staff. It was all that kept him standing. ‘You go too far.’
‘Be silent, worm. The next time you bleed my patience dry, I will do more than slap you aside.’
Guilliman was on his feet now. He turned an expressionless face back to his brother.

‘Is your tantrum concluded, Lorgar? I must return to the Crusade.’
‘Come, my son,’ Kor Phaeron’s corpse-sneer was directed at Guilliman even as his words were meant for his primarch. ‘Come. We have much to discuss.’
Lorgar exhaled, and nodded once. The anger was fading, and no longer offered a shield against shame. ‘Yes. Back to the ships.’
‘All companies,’ Kor Phaeron spat across the vox, ‘return to orbit.’
‘Yes, First Captain,’ Argel Tal replied with the others. ‘By your word.’

ARGEL TAL’S THUNDERHAWK nestled in the shadow cast by a ruined wall. This blasted slice of architecture stood almost alone in theash desert, the last lingering piece of a building that would never rise again. The captain walked with Xaphen and his subcommanders, Brother-Sergeants Malnor and Torgal. Squads embarked aboard their own gunships, despondent gatherings of warriors walking in near-silence.
‘There will be no resettlement,’ Torgal said. ‘The city is a tomb. There is nothing left to rebuild.’

‘It is noted in many historical archives,’ said Xaphen, ‘that even the most enlightened primitive cultures on pre-Imperial Terra would salt the earth after razing a city to the ground. Nothing would grow for generations. The people of the defeated city had no choice but to leave and begin new lives elsewhere, rather than rebuild.’
‘How fascinating,’ said Malnor.
‘Be quiet,’ Torgal grunted. ‘Please continue, Chaplain.’
‘I am sure none of us are blind to the echoes of those ancient events taking place here. How many orbital bombardments have we prosecuted ourselves? How many times have we battled in the ruins of a sky-blasted city? This was more than simple destruction. Thiswas eradication. The Ultramarines did as they meant to do, and wiped every significant remnant of Khur’s culture from the face of the planet. A lesson for us, and a lesson for the people.’

Argel Tal led the group into the Thunderhawk’s open cargo bay. Their boots clanged up the ramp.
‘I had my bolter aimed at one of the XIII Legion,’ he said at last. ‘Aimed at his throat.’ He tapped the softer fibre bundle cabling in his own armour’s flexible layered collar. ‘If I’d pulled the trigger, he would be dead.’
Argel Tal nodded to a squad of Seventh Company as they moved past, and punched the sealant plate, activating the ramps’ pistons. Thehydraulics compacted, lifting the gangway back up in a slow machine-grind.

‘I didn’t,’ the captain said. ‘But I wanted to. After what they did to our city. After they saw us kneel in false shame. I wanted to, and I almost did. I gave the order to hold fire, while silently hoping someone would break it.’
Malnor didn’t move. Xaphen said nothing. After several seconds, Torgal offered an unsure ‘Sir?’
Argel Tal stared through the diminishing slit of daylight allowed by the rising ramp. Without a word, he thudded a fist onto the control plate, halting the seal. The captain moved to the gang ramp as it made its shuddering descent again.

‘Sir?’ Torgal tried again.
‘I saw something. Movement, in the distance, at the edge of the northern craters.’
His visor zoomed and refocused, panning across the uneven horizon.Nothing. Less than nothing.
‘Dust and dead rock,’ said Malnor.
‘I will return shortly.’ Argel Tal was already moving back down the ramp. He didn’t reach for the bolter at his hip or the twin blades sheathed on his back.
‘Captain,’ Xaphen said. ‘We were ordered to return to orbit. Isthis necessary?’

‘Yes. Someone is alive out there.’
THE STRANGER STAGGERED over the broken ground. When her foot caught on a jutting hump of rock, she tumbled forward without a sound, crashing down hard. There she remained, prone in the ash, breathing in arrhythmic wheezes as she sought to summon the strength to stand again.
‘You didn’t pull the trigger,’ Torgal said. ‘None of us did. That’s what matters.’
Judging by the bleeding sores on her palms and knees, it was a performance she’d repeated many times, over many days.

Her scarlet robes were filthy and shredded, though they were clearly of inexpensive weave even before they’d suffered the indignity of neglect. Argel Tal watched her from afar, as the lurching figure made her painful way across the blasted terrain. She seemed to have no specific direction in mind, often turning back on herself, and pausing to crouch and catch her breath after each stumble.
The Astartes moved closer. The stranger’s head came up immediately.

‘Who’s there?’ she called.
Argel Tal’s helm turned his answer into a machine-growl, with a waspish, sawing edge. ‘Who indeed?’
The captain kept his gauntleted hands in full view, palms outward in the Khurian custom of greeting another without hostility. The young woman looked in his direction, but made no eye contact. She stared vaguely off to Argel Tal’s side.
‘You’re one of them,’ the human recoiled, her feet betraying her on the uneven rock and sending her down to the dust again. She was younger than Argel Tal had first guessed, but the warrior was poor at estimating human age. Eighteen. Perhaps younger. Certainly no older.

‘I am Captain Argel Tal of the Seventh Assault Company, Serrated Sun Chapter, Seventeenth Legio Astartes.’
‘Seventeenth… You… you are not a false angel?’
‘I came to this world six decades ago,’ the captain said. ‘I wasnot false then, nor am I now.’
‘You are not a false angel,’ the girl said again. She was clearlyhesitant, still not looking directly at the Astartes as she rose on shivering legs. Argel Tal took a step closer, offering his hand. The young woman didn’t take it. She didn’t even acknowledge it.

The warrior’s eye lens displays flickered with crude bio-sign analyses that Argel Tal had no need to see. The female’s condition was obvious from her jutting facial bones, the patches of raw, discoloured skin decorating her body, and her limbs shaking in a manner that had nothing to do with fear.
‘You are on the edge of malnutrition,’ said the captain, ‘and the wounds on your hands and legs are grievously infected.’
This last was an understatement. Given the spread of flesh corruption below the knees, it was a miracle the girl could still walk at all. Amputation was a very real possibility.

‘What colour is your armour, angel?’ she asked. ‘Answer me thisquestion, I beg you.’
The Word Bearer withdrew his offered hand.
‘And you are blind,’ the warrior said. ‘Forgive me for not noticing before.’
‘I saw the city die,’ she said. ‘I saw it burning as flame rained from the stars. The sky-fire stole my eyes on the Day of Judgement.’
‘It’s called flash blindness. Your retinas are bleached by an oversaturation of light. Sight may return in time.’

The young woman let out a panicked yell as Argel Tal rested his gauntleted fingers on her skeletal shoulder. She flinched back, but the Astartes kept her standing, not allowing her to fall.
‘Please don’t kill me.’
‘I will not kill you. I am guiding you to safety. We saved this world sixty years ago, Khurian. We never meant to bring this upon you. What is your name?’
‘Cyrene. But… what colour is your armour, angel? You never answered me.’
Argel Tal looked down into her blinded eyes.

Please tell me,’ she repeated.
‘Grey.’
The girl burst into tears, and allowed herself to be half-carried back to the shelter of the Word Bearers gunship.
基里曼躺在尘土中，被他的战士们包围着。在场的人谁也没有见过这样的事。安格尔泰举起爆弹枪，瞄准着对面的极限战士，对面是一群同样姿态的极限战士。一百多个枪管指向对方。刚刚恢复的安格尔泰试了三次才说出完整的语句
“别...别...别开枪，”他对着通讯频道低语道。“除非有人开枪，否则不要开枪。”
洛迦把硕大的战锤放在他金色肩甲上。当他对着倒下的基里曼露出凶狠的表情，他那灰色的眼睛闪烁着不确定的情绪。
“你再也不要嘲笑我了，兄弟。你听懂了吗?”
基里曼的缓慢的起身。他胸甲上的金鹰裂开了，一条裂缝贯穿了整个动力甲上的天鹰浮雕浮雕。
“你太过分了。”一个柔和的声音说。泰拉至高领主马卡多仍然紧握着他的权杖。他用尽全力使自己站立在地上。“你太过分了。”

废物,保持沉默吧。当下次我失去耐心时，我就不会只给你一个耳光了。”
格里曼现在站起来了。他把面无表情的脸转向他的兄弟。
“你的小脾气儿结束了吗，洛迦?”我必须回到大远征当中去了。”
“来吧，我的儿子，”柯尔法隆看着基里曼犹如看尸体一般，转而看向洛迦。“来吧。我们有很多事情要谈。”
洛加尔呼了一口气，点了点头。愤怒渐渐消退，双方不再剑拔弩张。‘是的。回到船上去。”
“所有连队，”柯尔法隆对着通讯频道说，“返回近地轨道。”
“是的，第一连长。”安格尔泰和其他军官回应，听从您的命令。”
安格尔泰所属的雷鹰炮艇停放在一座快要倒塌的残墙后面。这座被炸毁的建筑几乎孤零零地矗立在灰沙漠中，是这座永远不会再矗立起来的建筑的最后一块残留的碎片。Xaphen和安格尔泰的副官及士官malnor和torgal一同走向炮艇（具体的人员与职称还望大佬在评论区翻译，不吝赐教。）。小队登上了自己的载具上，沮丧的聚集在一起，沉默的走着。
torgal说，不会有什么重新开始。“这座城市已经是一座坟墓了。没有什么可以重建的了。”

Xaphen说:“在许多历史档案中都有记载，在帝国之前的时代，即使是最开明的文明，也会在将一座城市夷为平地后，用盐将其盐化。”没有任何植物会生长出来。战败城市的人们别无选择，只能离开，在别处开始新的生活，而不是重建家园。”
“太神奇了。”
“安静点，”torgal咕哝道。“牧师,请继续。”
“我相信我们谁也看不见那些发生在远古时期种种事件的痕迹。我们自己就进行了多少次的轨道轰炸?多少次我们曾在被摧毁的城市废墟上战斗过?这不仅仅是简单的破坏。而是彻底的根除一切历史的与文化的痕迹。极限战士按照这个意思做了，把科尔奇斯的所有重要遗迹从星球表面抹去。这是我们的教训，也是人民的教训。”
安格尔泰带领小组进入了雷鹰炮艇的开放货舱。他们的靴子丁丁当当地敲打着着陆坡道。
安格尔泰说“我让人瞄准了第十三军团的一个士兵，”他说。”他指着自己的喉咙。他轻拍了一下自己盔甲上有弹性的分层衣领上柔软的纤维束。“如果我扣动扳机，他早就死了。”
torgal说，不是你开的枪最好。“如果你开枪，我们也不复存在了。这是最重要的。

第七小队的一队士兵经过时，安格尔泰向他们点点头，击打斜坡启动摁钮，激活了斜坡的活塞。液压装置被压实，在缓慢的机械研磨中把舷梯重新抬了起来。
“我没有，”他说说。“但我想这么做。在他们对我们城市所做的一切之后。在他们看到我充满羞愧地跪在地上之后。我想这么做，而且我几乎做到了。我下达了停火的命令，同时默默地希望有人能打破它。”
Malnor没有移动。Xaphen什么也没说。几秒钟后，torgal不确定地问了一句“长官?”
安格尔泰透过上升的斜坡所允许的逐渐缩小的日光缝隙凝视着。他一言不发，用拳头猛击控摁钮，顶住斜坡。他走到舷梯前，斜坡正颤抖着再次下降。
“长官?torgal又试了一次。
“我看到了什么，在远处，在北方的废墟有活动的迹象。”
他将眼睛重新聚焦，在不平坦的地平线上横向扫描着，但什么也没有。看不到什么。
“只有尘土和死石头。”
“我马上就回来。安格尔泰已经开始往下走了。他没有伸手去拿放在腿侧的兵刃。
“连队长,”Xaphen说。我们被命令返回轨道。有这个必要吗?”

‘是的。外面还有活人。”
那个陌生人在碎石地上摇摇晃晃地走着。当她的脚碰到一块凸出的隆起的岩石时，疼痛使她双脚发软，重重地摔了一跤。她躺在灰烬与废墟中，呼吸着有节奏的喘息，试图鼓起勇气重新站起来。
从她手掌和膝盖上流血的伤口来看，她这几天已经多次摔倒，破口的伤痕遍体麟身。
她的猩红色袍子肮脏不堪，被撕成了碎片，尽管它们是廉价的织物。安格尔泰从远处看着她，看着那个蹒跚的身影艰难地穿过这片被摧毁的土地。她似乎没有明确的方向，常常转身背对着自己，每次跌倒后都会停下来蹲下来喘口气。
安格尔泰走近了。陌生人立刻抬起头来。
“谁在那?”她叫道。
安格尔泰的带着头盔，回答变为隆隆响的噪音，带着尖锐的锯刃。“你是谁?”
安格尔泰把他的戴着手套的双手放在看得见的地方，手掌向外，按照科尔奇斯的习俗，他表达了没有敌意的意思。年轻女子朝他的方向看了看，但没有目光接触。她茫然地盯着安格尔泰那边。
“你是他们中的一员，”人类后退了几步，她的脚在不平的岩石上摩擦着，又一次摔倒在尘土中。她比安格尔泰最初猜测的要年轻，他估算人类年龄的能力很差。十八岁。也许更年轻。当然不能比这再年长了。

“我是军团第十七连队锯齿太阳第七突击连的安格尔泰上尉。”
“17连……你……你不是伪天使吗?”
“我是60年前来到这个世界的，”安格尔泰说。“我当时没有说谎，现在也没有。”
“你不是伪天使，”姑娘又说了一遍。她显然有些犹豫，仍然没有直视眼前的星际战士，而是颤抖着站了起来。安格尔泰走近一步，伸出了手。年轻的女子并没有反应。她甚至没有意识到一双手伸过来。
安格尔泰并不需要进行生物信号扫描。这名女士的情况很明显，从她突出的面部骨骼，裸露的褪色的皮肤斑点，她的四肢颤抖的方式与恐惧无关。
“你已经处于营养不良的边缘，”船长说，“你手上和腿上的伤口已经严重感染了。”
最后一种说法是保守的。考虑到膝盖以下的血肉腐烂，这个女孩还能走路真是个奇迹。截肢的可能性非常大。
“你的盔甲是什么颜色的，安格尔?””她问。“请回答我这个问题。”
安格尔泰收回了他伸出来的手。
“你是盲人，”他说。“原谅我之前的疏忽。”
“我看到了这座城市的死亡，”她说。“我看见它燃烧着，如同天上下起火雨。审判日那天，天火偷走了我的眼睛。”

“它被称为闪盲症。你的视网膜会因为光的过饱和而变白。视力迟早会恢复的。”
安格尔泰把戴着手套的手指放在她瘦骨嶙峋的肩膀上，这名年轻女子惊恐地尖叫了一声。她畏缩了一下，但阿斯塔提斯让她站着，不让她倒下。
“请不要杀我。”
“我不会杀你的。我带你到安全的地方。60年前我们拯救了这个世界。我们从来没想过要把这件事强加给你。你叫什么名字?”
“昔兰尼。但是…你的盔甲是什么颜色的，天使?你从来没有回答过我。”
安格尔泰低头看着她失明的眼睛。
“请告诉我，”她重复道。
“灰色”。
姑娘哭了起来，任凭安格尔泰将她抱回雷鹰炮艇中。