The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第19部分

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my　friends　might　be　spared。
BETWEEN　THOSE　ESCAPADES；　there　were　only　the　long；　slow　weeks　of　transit　in　the　deep　warp。　I　filled　my　time　with　study；　and　with
weapons　practice　with　Nayl；　Fischig　or　Medea。　I　battled　to　get　myself　healthy　again。　The　Carnificina　had　wasted　me；　both　in　body　and
spirit。　The　weight　I　had　lost　would　simply　not　go　back　on；　despite　Maxilla's　generous　banquets。
And　I　felt　slow。　Slow　with　a　blade；　slow　on　my　feet。　Slow　and　clumsy　with　a　gun。
Even　my　mind　was　slow。　I　began　to　fear　that　Osma　had　broken　me。
Tasaera　Ungish　was　a　semi…paralysed　woman　in　her　fifties。　The　arduous　rituals　of　the　warp　had　left　her　broken　and　all　but　burned　out；
consigned　to　a　life　as　a　junior　telepath　in　the　class…chambers　of　Ane…mae　Gulfward。　Her　raddled　body　was　supported　by　an　augmetic
exo…skeleton。　I　believe　she　might　have　been　beautiful　once；　but　her　face　was　now　hollow　and　her　hair　thin　where　the　implant　plugs　of
her　calling　had　been　sited。
'That　time　again；　heretic？'　she　asked　as　I　walked　into　her　quarters。　This　was　about　the　twentieth　week　of　the　voyage。
'I　wish　you　wouldn't　call　me　that；'　I　said。
'Coping　strategy；'　she　purred。　'Your　e　out　of　a　safe　life　on　Anemae　Gulfward；　and　made　me　party　to　a
heretic's　private　crusade。'
'A　safe　life；　Ungish？　A　bad　end。　You'd　have　been　dead　in　another　six　months；　the　strain　of　the　traffic　they　were　making　you　process。'
She　tutted；　her　augmetic　chassis　whirring　as　she　poured　us　two　glasses　of　amasec。　Hers　was　laced　with　fitobarrier　enhancers；　and　her
room　stank　of　lho…leaf。　I　knew　the　rigours　of　her　life　had　left　her　in　constant　pain；　and　she　fought　that　pain　off　with　everything　she
could　lay　her　hands　on。
'Dead　and　buried　on　Anemae　Gulfward　in　six…　or　dead　in　agony　in　your　service。'
'It's　not　like　that；'　I　said；　nodding　as　I　took　the　glass　she　proffered。
'Is　it　not？'
'No。　I've　let　you　see　my　mind。　You　know　the　purity　of　my　cause。'
She　frowned。　'Maybe。'　She　was　having　difficulty　manipulating　her　own　glass。　The　mechadendrites　that　governed　her　right　hand　were
old　and　slow。
She　waved　me　off　when　I　tried　to　help。
'Maybe？'　I　asked。
She　took　a　big　swig　of　her　drink　and　then　poked　a　lho…stick　between　her　crinkled　lips。
'I've　seen　your　mind；　heretic。　You're　not　as　clean　as　you　like　to　think　you　are。'
I　sat　down　on　the　chaise。　'Am　I　not？'

She　lit　the　lho…stick　and　exhaled　a　deep　lungful　of　its　narcotic　smoke　with　a　sigh。
'Ah；　don't　mind　me。　A　ruined　worn…out　psyker　who　talks　too　much。'
'I'm　interested。　What　do　you　see？'
Her　exo…skeleton　made　soft　whines　as　it　walked　her　over　to　the　other　couch　and　the　hydraulics　hissed　as　they　settled　her　into　the　seat。
She　took　another　deep　puff。
'I'm　sorry；'　she　said。　'Would　you　like　one？'
I　shook　my　head。
'I　have　served　the　Astropathicus　all　my　life；　such　as　it　is；　on　guild　tenure　and　as　a　freelance；　as　now。　When　your　woman　came　to　me
with　a　job　offer　and　real　money；　I　took　it。　But；　oh　me；　oh　my…'
'Astropaths　are　supposed　to　be　neutral；'　I　countered。
'Astropaths　are　supposed　to　serve　the　Emperor；　heretic；'　she　said。
'What　have　you　seen　in　my　mind？'　I　asked；　bluntiy。
'Too；　too　much；'　she　responded；　blowing　a　magnificent　smoke…ring。
'Tell　me。'
She　shook　her　head；　or　that's　what　I　supposed　the　hissing　action　of　her　head…cage　was　supposed　to　convey。
'I　suppose　I　should　be　grateful。　You　took　me　from　a　dead　life　to　this…　an　adventure。'
'I　don't　need　you　to　be　grateful；'　I　said。
'Dead　and　buried　on　Anemae　Gulfward　in　six…　or　dead　in　agony　in　your　service；'　she　repeated。
'It　won't　be　like　that。'
She　blew　another　smoke　ring。　'Oh；　it　will。　I've　seen　it。　Clear　as　day。'
'You　have？'
'Many　times。　I'm　going　to　die　because　of　you；　heretic。'
UNGISH　WAS　STUBBORN　and　defeatist。　I　knew　she　had　seen　things　she　wouldn't　talk　about。　Eventually；　I　stopped　asking。　We　met　every
few　days；　and　she　psy…chometrically　captured　images　from　my　mind。　The　Cadian　pylons。　Cherubael。　Prophaniti；　and　the　ornaments　he
wore。
By　the　time　we　reached　Cinchare；　I　had　a　sheaf　of　psychometric　pictures　and；　thanks　to　the　crippled　astropath；　a　grim　sense　of　the
future。
CINCHARE。　A　MINERAL　rock　orbiting　a　rogue　star。
Plagued　by　gravitic　storms；　the　Cinchare　system　wanders　sloppily　through　the　fringes　of　the　Halo　Stars　at　the　edge　of　Imperial　space。
Ten　thousand　years　ago　it　had　been　a　neighbour　of　3458　Dornal；　and　had　nine　planets　and　an　asteroid　belt。　When　we　finally　found　it；　it
was　lurching　through　the　Pymbyle　systems；　major　and　minor；　and　had　suffered　two　serious　cosmological　collisions。　Now　it　had　six
planets　and　radiating　sheets　of　asteroid　belts。　Cinchare's　rogue　star　was　locked　in　a　drunken　dance　with　Pymbyle　Minor；　a　flirtatious
encounter　of　gravities　that　would　take　another　million　years　to　resolve。
Cinchare　itself；　or　more　properly　Cinchare　rogue　system'planet　four　X181B；　was　a　blue　nugget　of　rock　swaggering　along　an　almost
figure…eight　far　orbit　around　the　clashing　stars；　following　the　vagaries　of　their　impacting　gravity　wells。
Rich　in　ultra…rare　metals　including　ancylitum　and　phorydnum；　it　had　been　a　miner's　plunder…haven　for　as　long　as　it　had　been　identified。
'No　watch　ships。　Precious　little　in　the　way　of　guidance　buoys；'　Maxilla　said　as　he　steered　the　Essene　in…system。　'I've　got　a　habitation
hot…spot。　The　mining　colony；　I'll　bet。'
'Park　us　in　orbit；'　I　told　him。　'Medea；　fire　up　the　cutter　for　landfall。　Aemos；　you're　with　me。'
'WHOO！'　WHISPERED　MEDEA；　tightening　the　grip　of　her　circuit…inlaid　hands　around　the　bio…sensors　of　the　cutter's　steering　yoke。
Another　hard　buffet　had　shaken　the　craft。
'The　gravity…tides　are　all　over　the　place。　I　keep　hitting　eddies　and　anti…trojan　points。'
'Small　wonder；'　Aemos　muttered；　easing　himself　into　a　deck…seat　and　connecting　the　restraint　harness　across　his　lap。　'The　rogue　star
and　its　planet…herd　have　made　a　disaster　area　of　this　system。'
'Hmmm…'　said　Medea；　showing　no　concern　as　she　rolled　the　cutter　up　and　over　on　its　back　to　avoid　a　jagged　black　asteroid　that
tumbled　across　our　path。　The　close　approach　to　Cinchare　was　a　debris　field；　full　of　rock　matter　and　collision　slag；　all　swirling　around
in　complex　and　exotic　orbits。　Parts　of　this　field　had　formed　into　thin　ring　systems　around　Cinchare；　but　even　the　rings　were　buckled
and　warped　by　gravity…clashes。　The　space　around　us　was　a　bright　misty　gold　where　starlight　was　catching　the　banks　of　dust　and　microlitter。
The　cutter's　shields　could　handle　most　of　the　larger　rocks　that　swirled　through　it；　but　some　were　giants　and　required　evasive
manoeuvres。
Through　the　gold　dust…light；　we　began　to　see　Cinchare　more　clearly：　an　irregular；　glittered　blue　object；　spinning　fast　along　a　stricken
axis。　It　was　half　in　shadow；　and　the　peaks　of　its　mineral　mountains　made　pre…dawn　flashes　as　they　caught　the　early　light　coming　up
over　the　daylight　terminator。
'The　closer　we　get　to　the　body；　the　worse　the　gravitic　disturbances　will　become；　of　course；'　Aemos　mused　aloud。　Medea　didn't　need　the
advice。　Even　I　knew　that　an　irregular　body　…　and　especially　an　irregular　body　composed　of　varying　densities　…　would　have　a　near…space
lousy　with　abnormal　gravity　effects。　I　think　Aemos　was　just　chatting　to　keep　his　mind　off　things。

Medea　banked　us　around　the　searing　trails　of　three　bolides；　and　into　what　felt　like　a　chute　of　high　gravity。　Cinchare's　surface；　a
revolving；　pitted　cold　expanse；　rushed　up　to　meet　us　and　filled　the　main　ports。　The　descent　and　proximity　alarms　started　to　sound；　and
Medea　killed　them　both　with　an　impatient　sideways　stab　of　her　hand。　We　levelled　out　a　little。
'The　mining　facility　beacons　just　woke　up；'　Medea　cleared　her　throat。　'I've　got　a　pre…lock　telemetry　handshake。　They're　requesting
ident。'
'Give　it。'
Medea　activated　the　cutter's　transponder　and　broadcast　our　craft's　identifying　pulse。　It　was　one　of　the　disguise　templates　we　stored　in
the　codifier　for　covert　work；　a　delicate　piece　of　fakery　designed　by　Medea　and　Maxilla。　According　to　its　signature；　we　were　a　research
team　from　the　Royal　Scholam　Geologicus　on　Mendalin。
'They've　cleared　us　to　touch；'　Medea　reported；　easing　us　past　another　buffet　of　gravity　turbulence。　'They've　activated　the　guide
pathway。'
'Any　vox　contact？'
She　shook　her　head。　'It　could　all　be　mechanical。'
'Take　us　in。'
CINCHARE　MINEHEAD　WAS　a　cluster　of　old　industrial　structures　plugging　the　cone　of　an　upthrust　impact　event。　Flight　approach　was
down　a　rille　in　the　crater　edge。　The　buildings　seemed　at　first　sight　to　be　rude　and　unfinished；　rough…hewn　from　the　blue　rock；　but　I
quickly　realised　they　were　standard　Imperial　modular　structures　caked　with　accretions　of　blue　dust　and　gypnate。　As　far　as　records
showed；　Cinchare　Minehead　had　been　here　for　nine　hundred　years。
We　set　down　on　a　cleared　hardpan　surrounded　by　serially　winking　marker　lamps。　The　braking　jets　kicked　up　a　swirling　halo　of
eluviam　into　the　air…less　sky。　After　a　short　wait；　two　monotask　servitors；　heavy…grade　units　on　caterpillar　tracks；　emerged　into　the　hard
starlight　from　the　shadows　of　a　docking　barn；　attached　clamps　to　our　front　end　and　silently　towed　us　back　into　the　barn。
It　was　a　grim　place　of　dirty　bare　metal　and　lifting　gear。　Two　battered　prospector　pods　sat　in　berthing　bays；　and　in　the　gloom　at　the　far
end　was　a　cargo　shuttle　that　had　seen　better　days。
The　barn　doors　closed　behind　us；　and　flashing　hazard　lamps　in　the　berthing　dock　moved　from　amber　to　green　as　the　atmosphere　was
cycled　back　in。　Apart　from　the　servitors；　there　was　no　sign　of　life。
'Cutter's　systems　show　green　on　outside　conditions；'　said　Medea；　swinging　out　of　her　seat。
'Are　we　ready？'　I　asked。
'Sure；'　said　Medea。　She　had　switched　her　regular　Glavian　pilot's　gear；　with　its　distinctive　cerise　jacket；　for　a　much　more　anonymous　set
of　grubby　flight　overalls。　Heavy；　tan　and　baggy；　they　were　actually　the　quilted　liner　of　an　armoured　void…suit。　The　surface　was　covered
in　eyelets；　laces　and　stud…connectors　where　the　armour　segments　would　lock　on　and　there　were　umbilical　sockets　in　the　chest。　Medea
had　removed　the　helmet　ring　and　allowed　the　heavy　collar　to　hang　open。　She　wore　workgloves　and　steel…capped　military　boots；　and
tucked　her　hair　up　under　a　billed　cap　with　the　Imperial　eagle　on　the　front。
Aemos　had　adjusted　the　hydraulic　settings　of　his　augmetic　exo…skeleton　to　hold　him　in　the　stiffest；　most　upright　stance　possible。　Witb
a　long　tunic…cloak　of　black　bagheera；　a　white　skull　cap　and　an　engraved　data…cane；　he　looked　every　centimetre　a　distinguished　scholam
academic。
I　lacked　any　trace　of　my　usual　inquisitorial　garb。　I　wore　learner　breeches　and　high；　buckled　boots；　an　old　flak…armour　jerkin　with　dirty
ceramite　over…plates；　and　a　full…face　filter　mask　with　tinted　eyeslits　that　resembled　nothing　so　much　as　a　snarling　skull。　Nayl　had　lent
me　a　motion　tracker　unit　from　his　personal　kit；　which　I　had　strapped　over　my　right　shoulder；　and　a　heavy；　snub…nosed　laspistol　that
hung　in　an　armpit　rig　under　my　jerkin。　A　combat　shotgun　rested　in　a　scabbard　between　my　shoulder　blades；　and　I　had　a　belt　of　shells
for　it　around　my　waist。　I　looked　and　felt　like　hired　thug…muscle…　which　was　precisely　the　point。
Medea　popped　the　hatch　and　we　descended　into　the　barn。
It　was　cold；　and　the　air　was　parched　from　too　many　automatic　scrubbings。　Odd　mechanical　noises　sounded　sporadically　in　the
distance。　Squat；　short…base　servitors　were　busy　tinkering　with　the　old　shuttle's　exposed　engine…guts。
We　clanged　up　the　grille　stairs　to　the　interior　hatch。　It　was　marked　with　a　bas…relief　symbol　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus；　and　an
enamelled　sign　below　it　announced　that　the　tech…priesthood　was　the　supreme　authority　at　Cinchare　Minehead。
The　heavy　hatch　whirred　back　into　its　wall…slot　revealing　a　gloomy　prep…tunnel　lined　with　empty　void…suits　that　swung　on　their　hooks
in　the　breeze。　Beyond　that；　there　was　a　dank　scrub…room；　a　darkened　office　with　a　padlock　on　the　door；　and　an　empty　survey　suite　with
a　deactivated　chart　table。
'Where　is　everybody？'　Medea　asked。
WE　FOLLOWED　THE　echoing　hallways　through　the　complex。　Grubby　mining　equipment　was　scattered　or　piled　in　corners。　A　small　firstaid
station　had　been　stripped　of　surgical　equipment　and　stacked　with　crates　of　pickled　fish。　A　side　room　was　empty　except　for
hundreds　of　broken　wine　bottles。　A　disused　walk…in　freezer　store　exuded　the　stink　of　spoiled　meat　mrough　its　open　door。　Water
spattered　from　the　dark；　lofty　ceilings　of　some　vaults。　Chains　swung　from　overhead　hoists。　Cold；　dry　breezes　gusted　down　the　halls。
When　the　wall…speakers　boomed；　we　all　started。
'Allied　Imperial　Minerals！　Duty　rotation　in　fifteen　minutes！'
The　voice　was　an　automatic　recording。　Nothing　stirred　in　response。
'This　is　most　perturbatory；'　murmured　Aemos。　According　to　Imperial　records；　Cinchare　Minehead　is　an　active　concern。　Allied　Imperial
has　a　workforce　of　nineteen　hundred　running　their　deep…cast　mines；　and　Ortog　Promethium　another　seven　hundred　at　their　gypnate

quarries。　Not　to　mention　independent　prospectors；　ancilliary　service　workers；　security　and　the　personnel　of　the　Adeptus。　Minehead　is
meant　to　have　a　population　of　nearly　three　thousand。'
We　had　reached　a　main　concourse；　a　wide　thoroughfare　lit　by　overhead　lamps；　many　of　which　were　smashed。　Abandoned　merchant
shops　and　bars　lined　either　side。
'Let's　look　around；'　I　said。　We　fanned　out。　I　walked　to　the　north　end　of　the　trash…littered　concourse　and　found　steps　leading　down　into　a
wide　plaza　full　of　more　empty　shops　and　businesses。
I　heard　the　whine　of　an　electric　motor　from　down　to　the　left；　and　followed　it。　Round　the　corner　of　a　boarded…up　canteen；　a　fat…tyred
open　buggy　was　pulled　up　outside　the　unkempt　entrance　of　a　claims　registry。　I　went　inside。　The　floor　was　covered　in　spilled；
yellowing　papers　and　dented　data…slates。　A　snowdrift　of　used　and　mouldering　ration　cartons　filled　a　side　door　into　a　filing　room。
Nayl's　motion　detector　clicked　and　whirred。　It　projected　its　display　on　the　inside　of　my　mask's　right　lens。　Motion；　the　rear　office；　eight
metres。
I　edged　to　the　door　and　peered　in；　my　hand　on　the　grip　of　the　holstered　las。
A　long…limbed　man　in　filthy　overalls　was　crouching　with　his　back　to　me；　rummaging　through　a　foot　locker。
'Hello？'　I　said。
He　jumped　out　of　his　skin；　turning　and　rising　in　the　same　frantic　motion；　then　crashed　backwards　against　a　row　of　metal　cabinets。　His
long；　gawky　face　was　pale　with　fear。　His　hands　were　raised。
'Oh　crap！　Oh　dear　God…Emperor！　Oh；　please…　please…'
'Calm　down；'　I　said。
'Who　are　you？　Oh；　crap；　don't　hurt　me！'
'I'm　not　going　to。　My　name　is　Horn。　Who　are　you？'
'Bandelbi…　Fyn　Bandelbi…　mining　superintendant　second　class；　Ortog　Promethium…　crap；　don't　hurt　me！'
'I'm　not　going　to；'　I　repeated　firmly。　At　least　the　frayed　nametag　on　his　dungarees　agreed　with　him：　'BANDELBI；　F。　SUPER　2nd　O。P。'
'Put　your　hands　down；'　I　said。　'Why　did　you　think　I　was　going　to　hurt　you？'
He　lowered　his　hands　and　shrugged。　'I　didn't…　sort　of…　I　don't　know…'
He　regained　a　little　composure　and　squinted　at　me。　'Where　did　you　come　from？'　he　asked。　He　was　an　ugly；　lantern…jawed　fellow　with
unkempt　greasy　hair　and　stubble。　There　was　the　hint　of　a　raw　pink　birthmark　on　the　side　of　his　throat。
'Off　rock。　Just　got　here。　I　was　wondering　why　there　was　no　one　around。'
'Everyone's　gone。'
'Gone？'
'Gone。　Shipped　out。　Left。　Because　of　the　Gravs。'
'The　Gravs？'
I　don't　know　if　he　was　going　to　answer。　My　motion　tracker　suddenly　flashed　an　alert　up　on　my　lens　and　I　wheeled　around　to　find　a
man　standing　in　the　registry's　entrance。　He　was　a　big　man　with　dark　skin　and　a　white　stubble　of　hair　and　beard。　The　autopistol　in　his
right　hand　was　aimed　at　my　face。
'Nice　and　slow；'　he　said。　'Lose　the　guns。　And　the　mask。'
'What's　going　on？　Who's　in　charge　here？'　demanded　a　voice　from　outside。　It　was　Aemos。
The　man　with　the　gun　glanced　outside　and　then　waved　me　ahead　of　him。　Aemos；　looking　very　haughty　and　dignified；　stood　in　the
streetway　behind　the　parked　buggy。
'Well？　I　am　Doctor　Savine；　from　the　Royal　Scholam　Geologicus　on　Mendalin。　Is　this　the　way　Cinchare　Minehead　greets　its　guests？'　I
was　impressed。　There　was　a　querulous　tone　of　piqued　authority。　Aemos　had　acting　talents　I　had　never　imagined。
'You　got　papers？'　asked　the　man　with　the　gun；　still　covering　me。　Ban…delbi　had　emerged　and　was　watching　the　exchange。
'Of　course！'　Aemos　snapped。　'And　I'll　show　them　to　someone　in　authority。'
The　man　with　the　gun　reached　his　free　hand　down　into　the　neck　of　his　mesh…reinforced　coat　and　pulled　out　a　polished　silver　badge　on
a　neck　chain。　'Enforcer　Kaleil；　Cinchare　Minehead　Security　Service。　I'm　the　only　authority　you'll　find　round　here。'
Aemos　tutted　and　rapped　the　tip　of　his　data…cane　down　on　the　rockcrete　ground。　The　cane…head　clicked　around　and　cast　a　small
hologram　into　the　air　above　it：　identity　details；　the　seal　of　the　Royal　Scholam　Geographicus；　and　a　slowly　revolving　3…D　scan　of
Aemos's　head。
'Okay；　doctor；'　nodded　Kaleil。　He　gestured　to　me　with　the　gun。　'What　about　this　goon？'
'You　think　I'd　travel　out　to　this　misbegotten　rock　without　a　bodyguard？　This　goon　is　Mr　Horn。'
'This　goon　y　friend　Bandelbi。'
Aemos　looked　at　me　sternly。　'I've　warned　you　about　that；　Horn！　Dammit！　You're　not　in　the　Mordian　gang…wars　now！'
Aemos　turned　back　to　Kaleil。　'He　is　somewhat　enthusiastic。　One　testosterone…stimm　too　many；　somewhere　along　the　line。　But　I　needed
muscle；　not　brains；　and　he　was　cheaper　than　a　cyber…mastiff。'
Be　thankful　you　can't　see　my　face　behind　this　mask；　old　friend；　I　thought。
'Okay。　But　keep　him　on　a　leash；'　said　Kaleil；　bolstering　his　weapon。　'Let's　go　to　the　security　station　and　you　can　tell　me　what　the　hell
you're　doing　here。'
'And　you　can　tell　me　where　the　hell　everyone　is；'　replied　Aemos。　Kaleil　nodded　and　gestured　for　us　to　lead　the　way　down　the　street。
'So　you　don't　need　me　to　detonate　anyone's　skull；　Doctor　Savine？'　said　a　voice。
Kaleil　and　Bandelbi　froze。　Medea　slunk　from　cover　in　a　shutterway　across　the　street；　a　Glavian　needle　pistol　held　in　an　unwavering
two…handed　grip　and　aimed　at　Kaleil's　head。

'Crap！'　Bandelbi　gasped。
'My　pilot；'　Aemos　said；　deadpan。　He　flapped　a　hand　sidelong　at　Medea。　'No；　Cora。　We're　all　friends　here　now。'
Medea　grinned　and　winked　at　Kaleil；　sliding　her　weapon　away　inside　her　flight　suit。
'Had　you　cold；　Enforcer　Kaleil。'
Kaleil　gave　her　a　murderous　glare　and　led　us　towards　the　security　station。
THE　STATION　WAS　on　the　second　floor　of　a　round　building　on　the　corner　of　the　deserted　plaza。　A　guard…rail　ran　at　hip…height　around　the
office；　and　beyond　that；　inwardly…raked　windows　permitted　a　wide　view　down　into　the　plaza　area。　Kaleil　thumbed　a　wall…control　that
reduced　the　tinting　in　the　glass　and　made　the　room　a　little　brighter。
Seats　were　arranged　around　a　central；　circular　workstation；　above　which　glowed　a　holo…display。　Empty　ration　pouches　and　ale　bottles
cluttered　the　surfaces　of　the　workstation；　and　handwritten　notes　and　memos　had　been　taped　along　the　edges　of　the　console。　Around　the
room　were　couch　seats　with　splitting　upholstery；　and　piles　of　junk。　A　door　in　the　rear　led　through　to　an　armoury　and　a　ready　room。　The
air　was　humid　and　smelled　of　sweat　and　unwashed　clothes。
Kaleil　took　off　his　mesh　jacket　and　tossed　it　onto　a　couch。　He　wore　a　grubby　vest　that　shoperial　Guard
tattoos　on　his　upper　arms。
His　badge　of　office　hung　down　over　his　chest　like　an　athlete's　medal。
'Get　'em　refreshment；'　he　told　Bandelbi。　The　miner　began　swi