【战锤40k同人作品翻译】Ennui 第四章：黑暗 Darkness
本章概述：
亚历桑德拉修女鉴赏艺术品。
In which Sister Alessandra appreciates art.
正文：
血液在我脚边积聚。
我不确定怎会如此，可兽人在死后比活着的时候更没吸引力了。并不只是因为气味——尽管这已经够糟——而是因为它们的尸体腐烂的方式。
“帝皇保佑，”我在血泊中寻找我的猎物时哽咽地说。
总的来说，兽人喜欢响亮，粗鲁的爆炸声，所以它们若非对白刃战情有独钟，那就至少会带一把爆弹手枪——如果不是一把完整的爆弹枪的话。我已经不止一次看见兽人一边冲击龙骑兵和我的姐妹们的阵线一边疯狂地向天上开枪，因此我怀疑这更多是为了噪音而非任何实际用处。
即便如此，这也意味着它们中的大多数都应该会额外带几发子弹。这些野兽装模作样地用作弹药的破烂能否用于我的神圣的爆弹枪是另一回事，但我当下不准备再挑挑拣拣了。
我翻出几个从破损的武器上翻出的珍贵弹匣，短暂地考虑了再次在走廊上冰冷，凝结的污物中涉水而过，随机又打消了这个想法，
即使我能设法让我的胃容物不再返场表演，我也怀疑能在这场搜索中找到的任何东西是否仍然可用。
做出决定后，我爬出大厅，穿过我进入建筑物时穿过的破砖块。安菲特里亚上的尸臭似乎明显比刚刚腌渍过我的那种浓烈的恶臭更舒适些，所当我低身潜入小巷时我感觉自己振作了起来。
我只前进了一米左右就被什么东西吸引了注意：
脚印，纤细到几乎称得上小巧玲珑，被干涸的兽人血液印在小巷的地面上。
那么，穿过小巷的那个东西应该是有实体的，而非是帝皇神意的粗略化身。不过，它依然在肮脏的兽人杂种头上降下了毁灭，执行了帝皇的旨意，那它就是帝皇的意志的化身。
这个念头是个慰藉。
有那么一会儿，我考虑起了自己的去路。我可以继续远行。但我的给养不会支撑太久。我可以深入巢都中即便在兽人的抢劫热情下也给养充足的地方，但那得冒着生命危险。而出于相同的原因，任何抵达的增援部队都会寻找安菲特里亚巢都，所以我遇到友军——无论来自龙骑兵还是来自我的神圣姐妹们的连队——的概率也大大增加了。
我曾站在部署的前沿，所有新晋修女都要在这里证明她们的勇气，而我在训练中的突出表现也让我位列第一波登陆的连队之中，不过这之后还有更多的连队，更多我的姐妹们，而我也向帝皇祈祷她们的登陆能远比我经历的更成功。
我懒散地追寻着脚印，并意识到它们也在向城市深处前行。我无法否认我的好奇心凌驾于自己的生存。继续留在城市里对我来讲更为明智，在这里我不仅能为帝皇服务，也有可能与我的姐妹们团聚，如果是这样的话那我至少可以跟着这条足迹走。
我默默地对自己点点头，下定决心，跟上了这些脚印。我保持低姿，并让耳朵留意威胁。幸运的是，除了某些极不寻常的亚种外，兽人并不以潜行能力著称，所以我至少在一定程度上自信只要能保持警惕，我就能避开任何大群的野蛮生物。
我一边悄悄地前进，一边开始小心地盘点从兽人那回收的物品。大量的明显由兽人制造——如果能这么称呼的话——的子弹被倒在了地上，我可不相信把它们装进我的武器里不会导致炸膛。
出于运气或是帝皇的仁慈，即便在挑出那些兽人弹药后我也还有正好多于一个弹匣的弹药，它们看起来都是从某个行星防御部队哨所或者卫军单位那里抢来的。我停下来压上爆弹，再把弹匣拍回原来的位置，供弹上膛，显示屏从红色转向了显示满弹的健康的绿色。
我把剩余的几枚爆弹压进空余的一个弹匣，再把它收起来。
现在，如果我的左臂不再是一块死重的话，我就会是一个足够优秀的精准射手，但在没有另一只手臂的情况下我只敢把武器设在半自动挡。没有左手来支撑这把活力四射的武器时连点射也有风险。
我的爆弹枪的机魂很是活泼，在发射时比其他同款式的爆弹枪更容易上跳。我曾把这个怪癖告诉了我的技师，他在与机魂沟通后向我保证它的工作参数在可接受的范围内，这个机魂只是比较年轻而热情。与我多次并肩作战的经历肯定能缓和它的热忱，而我要做的只是抓得紧点。
积极点讲，这把枪从来没有卡过哪怕一次壳，我也将之归因于机魂热忱的本质。
令我较欣慰的是，我和这个机魂都是新手。
当我接近建筑物间的一个小开口时，我一直追踪的脚印加快了速度，我也加快了步伐。在另一股内脏的腥臭撞上来前我将将走到巷子口，我踉跄着停下来，看到了新的暴力的壁画。
小巷另一边是一片城市杂树林，曾被一小批绿皮当作临时营地，尽管具体有多少个只有帝皇知道。就像在走廊里的那些绿皮，这些也被屠宰得难以辨认。在高耸的楼墙上溅洒着尖顶建筑的完美刻画，我片刻后意识到，这些“尖顶建筑”正在燃烧。
又过了片刻，我认出了安菲特里亚燃烧的天际线。
《燃烧的安菲特里亚》，这几个词从我心底一跃而起。这座描绘着首府城市的沦陷的悲剧壁画值得被放进任何帝国画廊。一幅捕捉暴力的暴力杰作，它的庄严肃穆罪孽般压在我的灵魂上。
它既美丽又骇人，我比以往更能感受到追上这些脚印的需求。
我忽略了这个营地，完全不顾隐蔽地加速穿过它并扫视着远处的边缘以寻找更多的脚印。我倒是很容易便找到了它们，几乎像是它们的主人故意想被跟上。我感觉自己好像被一位专业的策展人带上了某条血腥的纪念馆之旅，我急切地跟在脚步后面。
在心底，我开始为壁画命名。
《神圣之风》——走廊里的那个。一场如飓风般迅疾的美丽、痛心的死亡
《燃烧的安菲特里亚》，就在这片杂木林里。对绿皮侵略者的劫掠和它们对人类的神圣事业施加的无情暴力的悲惨的警示。
我随后穿过了一条室内的小道，一群兽人明显曾在战斗间隙于此游荡，却被神秘的袭击者彻底摧毁。它们身边疏散过的商店和住房被画成形似将死的人类的样子，兽人则在他们头上降临，其身后笼罩着死亡的阴影。
《复仇必至》，我如此称呼它，这是我最喜欢的一幅。
脚印经过这里通向一个制造仓库，那里曾有一大群兽人放纵地进行兽人式的抢劫后娱乐。起初我失望地以为这片区域大到任何一面墙壁都无法容纳我追求的美丽作品。
可在我停在这些兽人残骸——我发现它们比其他的都更为完整——的边缘时，事情的真相震惊了我。
我花了点时间爬到一堆板条箱的顶部，并惊叹于兽人被杀戮的方式：倒下的尸体形成了扭曲的山丘，血变成了河流和小溪。 坑坑洼洼的盔甲被修剪成一支军队在大地上行进的样子。当我跳下来并继续追寻时，我对此稍作思考。
《被解放的普瑞莱克斯》，我如此决定。
我认为这些山丘看上去很像这颗星球的主大陆上的山区地带，正如我在部署前从简报板上看到的那样，我想象着帝国卫军的装甲部队身负着帝皇意志的重量一路碾压过去，从绿皮手中收复这个世界。
脚步继续冲刺，而我奔跑着跟随，在寻找下一幅杰作的同时我的手臂在体侧无力地叮当作响。我又追逐了几分钟，跟随着脚步的蜿蜒曲折，直到——
“神皇在上……”当我在一个巨大的帝国广场前停下脚步时，我敬畏地喃喃自语。一座绿皮尸堆填满了整个广场中心，它们的武器破碎散落，它们的尸骸面目全非。
我过了一会儿才把目光从尸山上扯开，随即发现了令人不安的东西。
更多的脚步。
并非如我接近它时所料的那样环绕着尸堆。
又有四条路径从城市的不同方向逼近，一共五条完美地勾勒出的足迹通向兽人尸堆。我的这条应该是最新的，那么我正看向的是……
“哦不，”我咕哝着，用力咽下一口唾沫。
这不是一条毁灭之路，这是个诱饵。
做出这一切的东西想要尽可能多的兽人发现这些即便是最愚笨的兽人都能轻易发现的踪迹，而且还留下了足够多的战利品和废墟，即便兽人无法欣赏艺术品也能对此保持兴趣。
而如果我已经发觉了这一点，那么——
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
原文：
Blood pooled around my feet.
I wasn’t sure how, but these Orks had managed to become even less appealing in death than they were in life. It wasn’t just the smell either, although that was bad enough, it was the way their bodies festered.
“Emperor preserve me,” I choked the words out as I fished through the gore looking for my quarry.
To a one, Orks loved loud, crude explosions, and so if they weren’t favoring melee exclusively, then they always carried at least a bolt pistol, if not a full bolter. I’d witnessed more than one Ork charging down the ranks of the Dragoons and my own Sisters while wildly firing their weapon straight up into the air, so I suspected it was more about the noise than anything practical.
Still, it would mean that most of them should be carrying at least a few extra rounds on them. Whether or not whatever crude shot these beasts pass off as ammunition would work in my sacred bolter was a different question, but I wasn’t about to be picky at this stage.
I turned up several magazines worth from broken weapons, and I briefly considered wading through the cooling, coagulating mess of the hallway for more before dismissing that idea.
Even if I could manage it without the contents of my stomach attempting another encore performance, I doubted anything I would turn up from such a search would still be usable.
With that decision made, I scrambled out of the hall and through the cracked block of the hab I’d come in through. The charnel stink of Amphitria seemed significantly more pleasant compared to the packed-in stench that I’d just finished marinating in, so I found myself in a buoyed mood as I hunkered down and crept into the alleyway.
I made it only a meter or so before something caught my eye.
Footprints, slender and almost… dainty, were pressed into the floor of the alley in dried blood.
Orkish blood.
Whatever had passed through that hallway had been physical and real, then, and not just the raw manifestation of the Emperor’s divine will. Still, it had wreaked ruin upon the filthy mongrel Orks, it had done the will of the Emperor, and so it was the will of the Emperor.
That thought was a comfort.
For a few moments, I considered my path. I could move farther afield, but my supplies would not last forever. I could go deeper into the Hive where supplies would be plentiful, even with the Orks’ penchant for looting, but that would risk death. By that same token, any reinforcements arriving would seek the Hive of Amphitria so my odds of encountering friendly forces, either from the Dragoons or from companies of my own holy sisterhood increased drastically.
I’d stood at the vanguard of our deployment, where all newly minted Sisters must prove their mettle, and my high training marks had been honored with being placed among the first landing companies. There would be more companies though, more of my sisters, and I prayed to the Emperor their landings would be far more successful than mine had been.
Idly, I tracked the footprints, and realised they too led deeper into the city. I could not deny my curiosity, above and beyond my own survival. It was more sensible for me to remain in the city where I could not only do the work of the Emperor but potentially rejoin my sisters, and if that were to be the case then I could at least follow these tracks.
I nodded silently to myself, reaching my decision, and turned to follow the footprints. I kept low and trained my ears to listen for threats. Orks, fortunately, were not known for their stealth capabilities beyond certain highly unusual subbreeds, so I felt at least moderately confident I could avoid any larger gaggles of the brutish creatures so long as I was vigilant.
While creeping forward I began to carefully take stock of what I’d recovered from the Orks. A large number of the rounds went onto the ground, being clearly of Ork manufacture if one could call it that, and I didn’t trust that loading them into my weapon wouldn’t just blow it up.
By fortune or the grace of the Emperor, even after casting aside the Ork rounds I was still left with just over a magazine’s worth of ammunition, all of which looked to have been looted from a PDF defensive post or Guard unit. I paused to load my bolter, then slammed the magazine home, racked the feed, and was rewarded with the display flicking from red to a healthy green as it showed a full magazine count.
I pressed the several remaining shells into a spare magazine and stowed it.
Now if only my left arm weren’t a dead weight. I was a fine enough markswoman but without my other arm I didn’t dare set my weapon to anything but single-shot. Even burst fire would be too risky without my left hand to brace the lively weapon.
The machine spirit of my bolter was a frisky one and had a tendency to leap more than other bolters of its model when it was fired. I’d brought up the quirk to our Enginseer and he’d communed with the spirit, and afterward assured me that it was working within acceptable parameters and that the bolter’s spirit was simply young and enthusiastic. Enough experience in battle alongside me would surely temper its fervor, they had said, and that I needed only give it a firm hand.
On a more positive note, this bolter had never once jammed on me, and I chalked that up to the eager nature of the spirit as well.
That and I took some comfort in the fact that the spirit of my weapon and I were both novices of a sort.
The footprints I’d been following sped up to a rapid sprint as I approached a small opening between buildings, and I increased my pace. I barely reached the mouth of the alley when another wave of visceral stink struck me, and I staggered to a stop as I took in the new mural of violence.
Past the alley was a small urban copse that had been being used as a makeshift camp by a small number of Greenskins, although how many was a secret only the Emperor now knew. Like the ones in the hall, they were butchered almost beyond recognition, and over the walls of the rising buildings was splattered a perfect rendition of high-spired structures that, I realised a moment later, were burning.
It took me another moment to recognise it as the skyline of Amphitria itself.
Amphitria Burning, were the words that leapt to mind. This was a tragic mural worthy of any Imperial Galleria, depicting the sack of a capital city. A masterpiece of violence capturing violence and the gravity of it weighed on my soul like a sin.
It was beautiful and terrible, and I felt more than ever the need to catch up to whoever owned those footprints.
Ignoring the camp, I sprinted through it now heedless of stealth and scanned the far edges for more footprints. I found them easily enough, it was almost as though their owner wanted to be tracked and found. I felt as if I were being led on some kind of blood-soaked tour of a Hall of Remembrance by an expert curator, and I trailed behind the steps eagerly.
In my mind, I’d begun naming the murals.
Divine Wind, in the hallway. A beautiful, harrowing death of such wrenching speed as to have been carried on hurricane-force winds.
Amphitria Burning, in the copse. A tragic reminder of the depredations of the Greenskin invader, and their uncaring brutality towards holy human endeavor.
I passed a small interior street next, where a group of Orks had apparently just been roving between fights, only to be utterly unmade by the mystery assailant. The walls of the evacuated shops and residences around them had been painted to resemble dying humans, with Orks descending upon them, and behind the Orks a shadow of death encroached.
Vengeance Inevitable, I called that one, and I liked it most of all.
Past that the footprints led to a manufactorum warehouse where a large group of Orks had been engaged in the enthusiastic and perennial Orkish pastime of looting with abandon, and at first I’d been disappointed, thinking the area too large for any of the walls to hold my pursued’s beautiful work.
The truth of the matter struck me just in time for me to come skidding to a stop at the edge of the gory remains of the Orks which, I’d realised, were in far more intact condition than any of the others.
I took a moment to scramble to the top of a stack of crates and let out a sigh of wonder at how had the Orks had been slain in such a manner that their fallen bodies now formed curving hills and their blood made rivers and creeks. Pitted armor had been shorn in just such a way to appear as an army marching across the landscape, and as I descended and continued my pursuit, I gave it some thought.
Praelex Liberated, I decided.
I thought the hills looked quite like the mountainous terrain of the planet’s primary continent as I’d seen it on the briefing slate I’d perused prior to deployment, and I imagined the Imperial Guard with its armored contingents grinding along with the weight of the Emperor’s Will behind them to retake the world from the Greenskins.
The footsteps continued at a sprint and I followed at a run, my arm clanking weakly at my side as I sought after the next masterpiece. I trailed for several more minutes, following the twists and turns the steps were taking until finally-
“Oh… God-Emperor,” I muttered in awe as I came to a flagging halt in a large Imperial Plaza.
Filling the entire center was a mound of Greenskin corpses, their weapons broken and scattered, and their bodies ruined beyond recognition.
It took me a moment to rip my gaze away from the pile of the dead and look around it, and noted something troubling.
More footprints.
Not circling the mound as I might have expected from approaching it.
Four more trails approaching from various directions in the city towards the pile, five trails of perfectly outlined prints leading to a pile of Orkish dead. Mine was likely the latest, and what I was looking at now was…
“Oh no,” I mumbled, swallowing hard.
This wasn’t a path of destruction, it was a lure.
Whoever had been doing this wanted as many Greenskins as possible to find the trails, trailS that even the dimwitted Orks could follow without issue, and had left behind enough looT and ruin to keep them interested even if they couldn’t appreciate the artistic masterpieces.
And if I had found this, then-
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
