The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第20部分

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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　swishing　each　of　the　ale　bottles　standing　on　the　cowling　of　the　workstation
to　find　one　with　some　contents　left。
'Fresh　ones；'　Kaleil　scolded。　'And　I'm　sure　the　doctor　would　prefer　something　softer…　or　harder。'
'Amasec；　if　you　have　it；'　said　Aemos。
'Ale's　fine；'　smiled　Medea；　flopping　onto　a　couch　and　folding　her　legs　up　under　her。
I　shook　my　head。　'Nothing。'
Bandelbi　disappeared。
Kaleil　sat　down　backwards　on　one　of　the　workstation　chairs　so　he　could　fold　his　arms　on　the　top　of　the　backrest。
'Okay；　doctor。　What's　the　story？'
'I　am　the　head　of　the　metallurgy　department　at　the　Royal　Scholam。　Do　you　know　Mendalin？'
Kaleil　shook　his　head。　'Never　been　there。'
'A　fine　world；　a　noble　world。　Famed　for　its　academia。'　Aemos　carefully　took　a　seat　next　to　Medea。
I　stood　back；　by　the　windows。　I　could　tell　Kaleil　had　one　eye　on　me。
'We　are　engaged　in　a　twenty　year　program；　commissioned　by　Archduke　Frederik　himself；　to　investigate　the　inner　transition　qualities　of
the　rarest　metals　for…　well；　the　applications　are　classified；　actually。　The　results　may　improve　the　industrial　health　of　Mendalin's
engine　yards。　The　archduke　is　a　keen　amateur　metallurgist。　He's　the　patron　of　the　Royal　Scholam；　in　fact。'
'Do　tell；'　murmured　Kaleil。
'Phorydnum　is　one　of　the　metals　to　be　covered　in　our　program。　And　this　planetoid　is　one　of　the　nearest　sources　of　it。　The
Administratum　has　kindly　issued　me　with　a　bond　to　visit　Cinchare　and　obtain　samples；　and　I　have　letters　from　the　Lord　Director　of
Imperial　Allied　to　inspect　the　phorydnum　workings。　Do　you　wish　to　see　them？'
Kaleil　waved　a　dismissive　hand。
'I　also　hoped　to　meet　with　the　tech…priests　stationed　here　in　order　to　discuss　their　understanding　of　the　properties　of　this　precious
substance。'
'You're　on　a　fact…finding　trip？'
'A　research　mission；'　said　Aemos。
Bandelbi　returned　with　three　ales　and　an　enamel　cup。　He　carried　them　on　a　dented　locker　door　which　he　was　using　as　a　tray。
'It's　not　good　stuff；'　he　told　Aemos；　handing　him　the　cup。　'Just　ration　issue　grade。'
Aemos　sipped　it　without　the　hint　of　a　shudder。　'Rough；　but　bracing；'　he　announced。
Kaleil　took　his　bottle　and　tugged　a　swig　from　the　neck。
'You've　had　a　wasted　journey；　I'm　afraid；'　he　said。　'Emperor　knows　what　Imperial　Allied　were　playing　at　when　they　gave　you　those
letters。　They　must　know　their　people　have　pulled　out。'
'Explain；'　I　said。　Kaleil　shot　me　a　glance。
'This　rock's　been　worked　pretty　consistently　for　the　last　nine　centuries。　It's　hazardous　work；　but　the　rewards　are　great。　As　you　said；
Cinchare's　a　rich　source　of　many　metals　that　are　very　hard　to　come　by。'
He　took　another　swig。
'These　last　twenty　years；　the　authorities　here　have　been　getting　worried　about　the　conditions。　The　gravity　distortions。　Cinchare　moving
ever　closer　into　the　grav　fields　of　Pymbyle。　Reckoning　was　that　the　place　would　be　unviable　in　another　eighty；　ninety　years。　Imperial
Allied　and　Ortog　stepped　up　their　work；　trying　to　strip　out　as　much　as　they　could　before　Cinchare　passed　into　a　gravity　envelope　that
would　make　it　untouchable　for　the　next　few　thousand　years。　The　indie　prospectors　too…　they　came　flocking。　Regular　old　fashioned
ore…rush；　the　past　few　years。'
'So　what　happened？'　asked　Medea。
'The　Gravs；'　said　Bandelbi。　He　was　clearing　a　seat　for　himself　on　one　of　the　paper…stacked　couches。　He　looked　up　and　saw　Medea's
quizzically　raised　eyebrow。

'Gravity　sickness；'　he　said　at　once　in　response　to　her　unasked　question。　He　scratched　the　birthmark　on　his　neck　nervously。　He'd　been
keeping　a　keen　eye　on　her。　She　was　probably　the　first　woman　he'd　seen　in　a　while。　Kaleil　was　more　composed。
'Gravity　sickness；'　Bandelbi　continued；　'weight　distemper；　lead…head；　the　Gravs…　you　know。'
'Chronic　Gravitisthesia；　also　known　as　Mazbur's　Syndrome。　A　progressive　disorder　caused　by　exotic　gravitational　flux。　Symptoms
include　paranoia；　loss　of　co…ordination；　bursts　of　anxiety　or　rapture；　memory　loss；　hallucination　and　sometimes；　in　extremis；　homicidal
urges。　The　condition　is　usually　accompanied　by　myasthenia　gravis；　osteochondritis；　osteoporosis；　scoliosis　and　leukaemia；'　Aemos
finished。
Kaleil　widened　his　eyes。　'I　thought　you　were　a　doctor　of　metals；　doctor；　not　a　medicae。'
'I　am。　But　gravity；　that　invisible　power；　is　a　fundamental　part　of　the　life　of　all　elements。　So　I　take　an　interest　in　it。'
'Yeah；　well…　the　predictions　said　Cinchare　might　become　unviable　due　to　gravity　in　ninety　years。　But　the　human　body　is　softer　than　a
hunk　of　mineral　ore。　The　Gravs　first　showed　up　about　two　years　back。　Workers　getting　sick。　A　few　cases　of　violence　and　insanity。
Then　we　realised　what　was　going　on。　Imperial　Allied　pulled　out　nine　months　ago。　Ortog　seven。'
'It's　ironic；'　Aemos　said。　'Cinchare　is　mineral　rich　precisely　because　of　the　exotic　gravities　it　has　been　subjected　to　in　its　billion　year
life。　Elements　have　been　transmuted　and　rearranged　here　in　ways　that　may　be　unique。　Cinchare　is　a　precious　philosopher's　stone；　my
friends；　an　alchemist's　dream！　And　now　mankind　cannot　benefit　from　its　gifts　for　precisely　the　same　reason　they　exist　in　the　first
place！'
'Yeah；　doc；　ironic　is　what　it　is；'　said　Bandelbi；　knocking　back　his　ale。
'That　doesn't　explain　why　you're　still　here；'　I　said。
'Skeleton　crew；'　said　Kaleil　in　a　tone　that　said　it　was　none　of　my　business。　'The　Adeptus　Mechanicus　pulled　out　too；　about　three
months　ago。　But　one　of　theirs　stayed　behind。　Some　sort　of　vital　research　that　had　to　be　finished。　And　we　were　ordered　to　stay　behind
and　keep　Cinchare　Minehead　open　until　he　finished。'
I　moved　round　and　looked　out　of　the　station　windows。　The　plaza　was　empty　of　everything　except　trash。　'And　how　many　is　〃we〃；
Enforcer？'
'Service　crew　of　twenty。　I'm　in　charge。　All　volunteers。'
'The　techlords　promised　us　triple　pay！'　Bandelbi　told　Medea；　clearly　trying　to　impress　her。
'Gee　whiz；'　she　smiled。
'Where　are　the　others？　The　other　eighteen？'　I　pressed。
Kaleil　got　up　off　his　chair　and　tossed　his　empty　bottle　at　an　overflowing　litter　basket　in　the　corner。　It　bounced　off　and　broke　on　the
floor。　'Around　about。　This　is　a　big　place。　What　you　see　is　just　the　tip。　Like　a…　what's　it　called；　those　frozen　lumps　of　water　they　have
in　the　sea　on　some　planets？'
'Iceberg？'　Medea　suggested。
'Yeah；　like　one　of　those。　Ninety　per　cent　of　Cinchare　Minehead　is　subsoil。　That's　a　crap　of　a　lot　of　space　to　patrol；　maintain　and　keep
ticking　over。'
'You're　in　vox　contact　with　the　rest　of　the　skeleton　crew？'
'We　keep　in　touch。　Some　I　don't　see　for　weeks。'
'This　tech…priest；　the　one　who　remained？'　Aemos　said。　'Where　is　he？'
Kaleil　shrugged。　'Gone　rockside。　Into　the　karsts　and　the　mines。　I've　not　seen　him　for　two　months。'
'When　do　you　expect　him　back？'　Aemos　said；　as　if　it　didn't　matter。
Kaleil　shrugged　again。　'Never。'
'What　was　his　name？'　I　asked；　turning　to　look　directly　into　the　enforcer's　dark　eyes。
'Bure；'　he　said。　'Why？'
'Well；　this　is　all　most　perturbatory！'　Aemos　blurted；　rising　from　his　seat。　'The　archduke　will　be　very　put　out。　It　has　cost　a　deal　of　time
and　money　to　venture　this　mission。　Mr　Kaleil…　since　we've　come　this　far；　I'd　like　to　do　what　little　I　can。'
'Like　what；　doctor？'
'Obtain　some　samples；　inspect　the　phorydnum　workings；　study　the　mineralogy　ledgers？'
'I　don't　know…　Cinchare　Minehead's　meant　to　be　closed　up　now。　Officially。'
'Would　it　really　be　too　much　to　ask？　I'm　sure　the　Lord　Director　of　Imperial　Allied　would　be　pleased　if　you　co…operated　with　me。
Pleased　enough　to　proffer　a　bonus　if　I　made　a　report　to　him。'
Kaleil　frowned。　'Uh　huh。　What　are　we　talking　about？'
'A　day　to　overview　the　ledgers　and　the　mineralogy　database；　perhaps　another　day　to　examine　the　sample　archives　from　the　quarries。
And…　well；　how　long　would　it　take　to　arrange　a　visit　to　the　phorydnum　face？　The　latest　one？'
'I　call　my　staff　in；　maybe　two　days　round　trip。'
'So…　excellent！　Four　days　total　and　we'll　be　gone。'
'I　dunno…'said　Bandelbi。
'Don't　you　want　me　hanging　around　for　a　few　days？'　asked　Medea；　reading　Bandelbi's　body　language　as　acutely　as　any　trained
inquisitor；　and　revealing　as　much　latent　acting　ability　as　Aemos。
'I　shouldn't　allow　it；'　said　Kaleil。　'This　place　is　off　limits　now。　Company　orders。　You　didn't　ought　to　stay　here。'
'You　stay　here；'　I　pointed　out。
'I　get　danger　money；'　he　said。

'And　you　could　get　more；'　said　Aemos。　'I　promise　you；　I'll　speak　highly　of　your　co…operation　to　the　Lord　Director　of　Imperial　Allied…
and　my　old　friends　at　the　Adeptus。　They　would　reward　well　anyone　assisting　a　servant　of　the　archduke。'
'Get　me　an　ale；'　Kaleil　told　Bandelbi。　He　looked　at　us；　rolling　his　chin。　'I'll　talk　to　my　staff；　see　what　they　think。'
'Good；　good；'　said　Aemos。　'I　do　hope　we　can　reach　an　arrangement。　In　the　meantime；　we'll　need　quarters。　Are　there　spare　beds　here？'
'Cinchare's　been　fulla　empty　beds　since　the　workforce　moved　out；'　Bandelbi　told　Medea　through　a　nasty　smile。
'Find　them　a　hab；'　Kaleil　told　the　miner。　'I'll　get　on　to　the　crew。'
'SOMETHING'S　NOT　RIGHT；'　I　said；　pulling　off　my　mask　and　tossing　it　onto　the　floor。
'These　cots　are　really　rather　cosy；'　Aemos　replied；　adjusting　the　tension　of　his　exo…frame　and　reclining　on　the　mattress。
We　were　in　a　dry；　stuffy　rec…room　above　the　miners'　welfare。　The　artificial　lamplight　from　the　plaza　outside　slanted　in　through　sagging
blinds。　Bandelbi　had　provided　three　metal　cots　with　subsiding　mattresses　and　sleeping　bags　that　smelled　like　they　had　been　used　to
sieve　motor　fuel　and　cabbage。
'You　always　worry；'　Medea　said；　uninhibitedly　shrugging　off　her　flight　suit　and　kicking　it　into　a　corner。　She　was　clad　in　nothing　but
her　vest　and　briefs；　and　her　shoulder　holster；　which　she　was　now　unclasping。
Aemos　rolled　over　and　looked　the　other　way。
'It's　my　job　to　worry。　And　stop　getting　undressed。　We're　not　finished。'
Medea　looked　at　me；　and　rebuckled　her　gun　rig　with　a　dark　frown。
'Okay；　my　lord　and　master…　what？　What's　not　right？'
'I　can't　quite　put　my　finger　on　it…'　I　began。
Medea　tutted　and　flopped　down　on　her　cot。
'Yes；　you　can；　Gregor；'　Aemos　said。
'Maybe　I　can。'
'Try。'
'This　stuff　about　the　Gravs。　Even　if　the　corporations　were　suckered；　it's　not　like　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　to　fail　in　a　prediction。　Any
cosmologist　would　know　if　Cinchare　was　entering　a　gravitation　wilderness　that　would　be　harmful　to　humans。　They'd　know　it　years　in
advance。　Emperor　protect　me；　stellar　objects　move　far　slower　and　more　predictably　than　human　minds！'
'A　good　point；'　said　Aemos。
'And　one　that　you'd　already　thought　of；　I'm　sure；'　I　said。
'Yes；'　he　confirmed。　'Kaleil　is　clearly　lying　about　something。'
'And　you　don't　think　anything's　wrong？'
'Of　course　I　do；'　Aemos　muttered。　'But　I'm　tired。'
'Get　up；'　I　told　him　brusquely。
He　sat　up。
'At　least　we　know　Bure's　still　here；'　I　said。
'This　is　the　guy　we　came　to　find？'　Medea　asked。
I　nodded。　'Magos　Bure。'
'So　how　do　you　two　know　him？　A　tech…priest　magos？'
'Old　story；　my　dear；'　said　Aemos。
'I've　got　time。'
'He　was　a　loyal　ally　of　my　master；　Inquisitor　Hapshant；　Aemos's　old　boss；'　I　said；　cutting　to　the　chase　before　Aemos　could　get　going。
'A　blast　from　the　past；　huh？'　she　grinned。
'Something　like　that。'
'Still；　it's　a　lo…o…ong　way　to　come　just　to　catch　up　with　an　old　friend；'　she　added。
'Enough；　Medea！'　I　said。　'You　don't　need　to　know　the　particulars　yet。　Maybe　better　for　you　if　you　don't。'
She　blew　a　raspberry　at　me　and　began　to　pull　her　flight　suit　back　on。
'You　tried　to　reach　the　Essene　recently？'　I　asked。
'My　vox　hasn't　got　the　range；'　she　sulked　back；　fiddling　with　the　zipper。　'Gravity　distortions　are　too　much。　We　expected　that。　I　could　go
back　to　the　cutter　and　use　the　main　'caster。'
'I　need　you　here。　We　need　to　scare　up　some　answers　fast。　I　want　you　to　sneak　Aemos　down　to　the　Administratum　archive；　and　see　if
you　can　coax　anything　out　of　the　data　banks；　if　they're　still　functioning。'
'While　you…'
'I'm　going　to　the　annex　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus。　Meet　back　here　in　three　hours。　We're　looking　for　any　clues；　but　particularly　any
traces　of　Bure's　whereabouts。'
Aemos　nodded。　'What　if　we're　challenged？'
'You　couldn't　sleep；　you　went　for　a　walk；　and　you　got　lost。'
'And　if　they　don't　believe　me？'
'That's　why　Medea's　going　with　you；'　I　said。
THE　ANNEX　OF　the　tech…priesthood　lay　in　the　western　sector　of　Cinchare　Mine…head's　jumbled　maze　of　pressurised　habs　and　processing
sheds；　about　two　kilometres　from　the　plaza。　At　first；　I　hadn't　known　where　I　was　going；　but　the　tunnels　and　transit　ways　were　marked

with　numbered　signs　and　symbol…coded　notices；　and　after　a　while　I　found　a　large；　etched…metal　directory　map　screwed　to　a　pillar
beside　a　bank　of　dusty　public　drinking　fountains。
A　twist　of　the　faucet　on　one　of　the　fountains　produced　nothing　but　a　dry　rasp。
Approaching　the　annex；　the　whitewashed　tunnel　walls　were　overpainted　with　dark　red　stripes；　and　there　were　numerous　caution　signs
and　warnings　that　demanded　correct　papers　and　identities　on　pain　of　death。
Still；　the　whole　place　was　bare　and　empty；　and　thick　with　dust　and　litter。
At　the　end　of　the　red…striped　access　tunnel；　the　vast　adamantite　blast…gates　to　the　annex　stood　open。　There　was　an　eerie　silence。
The　annex　was　a　colossal　tower　of　hewn　rock　dressed　in　red　steel；　filling　a　side　chimney　of　the　crater　that　housed　Cinchare's
minehead。　A　sealed　glass　dome　covered　the　paved　yard　between　the　blast…gates　and　the　annex；　and　the　building　itself　rose　up　beyond
the　glass　to　the　top　of　the　crater　rim。　High　above；　I　could　see　the　blue　rock　and　the　starlit　void　beyond。　Meteors　streaked　overhead。
The　doorway　of　the　annex　was　a　giant　portal　taller　than　three　men；　framed　by　thick　dork　columns　of　black　lucullite。　Above　it　leered
the　graven　image　of　the　Machine　God；　its　eyes　clearly　carved　in　such　a　way　that　they　would　flare　ominously　with　gas　bum…offs　piped
up　from　the　mines。　They　were　cold　and　dead　now。
And　the　burnished　metal　doors　of　the　portal　were　open。
I　stepped　inside。　Fine　sand　covered　the　floor　of　the　grand　prothyron。　Dust　motes　glittered　in　the　bars　of　light　spearing　into　the　high
hallway　through　deadlights　up　near　the　ribbed　roof。　Both　walls　were　entirely　panelled　with　banks　of　codifiers　and　matriculators；　all
dormant　and　powered　down。　Crescents　of　dust　bearded　every　single　switch　and　dial。
I　knew　at　once　this　was　a　bad　sign。　The　tech…priests　treasured　machines　more　than　anything　else。　If　they　had　evacuated　as　Kaleil
described；　there　was　no　way　they　would　have　left　such　a　wealth　of　technology　here…　especially　as　each　unit　was　clearly　designed　to
slot　out　of　its　alcove　in　the　black　marble　walls。
The　chamber　beyond　the　prothyron　was　a　veritable　chapel；　a　cathedral　dedicated　to　the　God…Machine；　the　uber…Titan；　the　master　of
Mars。　The　floor　was　creamy　travertine　slabs；　so　tightly　laid　not　even　a　sheet　of　paper　could　be　slipped　between　the　stones。　The　chapel
itself　was　triapsidal　with　walls　of　smooth；　cold　lucullite　and　a　roof　thirty　metres　above　my　head。　There　was　yet　more　precious
technology　arranged　in　six　concentric　circles　of　intricate　brass　workstations　around　a　central　plinth。　All　of　it　was　dead　and　unpowered。
I　crossed　the　chamber　towards　the　plinth；　painfully　aware　of　how　loud　my　footsteps　rang　back　from　the　emptiness。　Chilly　starlight
shone　down　through　an　opaion　in　the　centre　of　the　roof；　directly　above　the　massive　grandiorite　plinth。　The　huge；　severed　head　of　an
ancient　Warlord　Titan　hung　above　the　plinth　where　the　starlight　shafted　down。　I　realised　that　nothing　supported　the　head　…　no　cables；
no　platform；　no　scaffolding。　It　simply　hung　in　the　air。
As　I　got　close　to　the　plinth；　gazing　up　at　the　Titan's　face；　my　hair　pricked。　Static；　or　something　like　it；　bristled　the　atmosphere。　Some
invisible；　harnessed　force　…　perhaps　gravity　or　magnetics；　certainly　something　beyond　my　understanding　…　was　at　play　here；　suspending
the　multiple　tonnes　of　the　machine…skull。　It　was　a　silent　marvel；　characteristic　of　the　tech…priesthood。　Even　with　the　power　shut　down；
their　miracles　endured。
On　one　workstation　console　…　a　brass　frame　full　of　intermeshed　iron　cogs；　silvered　wires　and　glass　valves　…　I　saw　a　length　of　canvassleeved
neural　hose；　one　end　plugged　into　the　display；　the　other　frayed　and　severed。　That　was　more　than　just　a　case　of　someone
leaving　in　a　hurry。
Over　the　years；　my　dealings　with　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　had　been　few。　They　were　a　law　unto　themselves；　like　the　Astartes；　and　only
a　fool　would　meddle　with　their　power。　Bure　…　Magos　Geard　Bure　…　had　been　my　closest　contact　with　them。　Without　the　Priesthood　of
Mars；　the　technologies　of　the　Imperium　would　wither　and　perish；　and　without　their　ceaseless　endeavours；　no　new　wonders　would　ever
be　added　to　mankind's　might。
Yet　here　I　stood；　unmolested　and　uninvited；　in　the　middle　of　one　of　their　inner　sanctums。
My　vox…link　pipped。　A　voice；　Medea's；　badly　distorted　by　gravity　flux；　said；　'Aegis　wishes　Thorn。　By　halflife　d—'
It　cut　off。
'Thorn　attends　Aegis；'　I　said。　Nothing。
'Thorn　attends　Aegis；　the　whisperless　void。'
Still　nothing。　What　little　I　had　caught　of　Medea's　brief　message　troubled　me　…　''halflife''　was　a　Glossia　code　word　that　could　be　used　in
phrases　to　disclose　an　important　discovery　or　indicate　a　grave　predicament。　But　what　troubled　me　far　more　was　the　fact　she　had　cut
off。　My　reply；　if　she　had　heard　it；　indicated　her　transmission　had　been　incomplete　or　garbled。
I　waited　a　full　minute；　then　another。
Without　warning；　my　vox　pipped　quickly　three　times。　Medea　had　test…keyed　her　transmitter　in　a　non…vocal　code　form　that　indicated
she　couldn't　talk　and　that　I　should　stand　by。
I　brushed　the　thin　skin　of　dust　off　one　dead　workdesk　and　gazed　at　the　worn；　rune…marked　keyboard　and　the　small　display　screens　of
thick；　convex　glass；　wondering　what　secrets　I　could　possibly　unlock　from　it。
Little；　I　decided。　Aemos；　who　frankly　knew　more　than　it　was　healthy　to　know；　might　have　a　chance。　He　had　worked　closely　with　Bure
years　before；　and　I　fancied　he　had　more　experience　of　the　mysterious　tech…priests　and　their　ways　than　he　cared　to　admit。
My　motion…tracker　suddenly　clicked　around；　and　I　tensed；　pulling　my　stub…nose　laspistol。　The　tracker's　display　on　my　mask's　right　lens
indicated　a　movement　or　contact　seventeen　paces　to　my　left；　but　even　as　I　turned；　it　flashed　up　more。　Multiple　contacts；　all　around；
coming　so　fast　that　they　overlapped　and　utterly　confused　the　tracker　for　a　moment。　The　lens　display　showed　a　default　''00：00：00''　for　a
second　as　it　struggled　to　compute　the　vectors；　and　then　it　scrolled　a　tight　column　of　coordinates　in　front　of　my　eye。
But　by　then；　I　knew　what　it　had　sensed。
The　sanctum　was　coming　to　life。

In　swift　succession；　each　workstation　chattered　into　action；　cogs　whirring；　valves　glowing；　screens　lighting；　pistons　hissing。　Pneumatic
gas…pumps　exhaled　and　communique　flasks　began　to　pop　and　whizz　through　the　network　of　elegant　glass…and…brass　message　tubes　that
ran　between　the　consoles　and　up　the　walls。　Several　desks　projected　small　hologram　images　above　their　hololith　hubs：　three
dimensional　strata　maps；　spectroscopy　graphs；　sonar　readings　and　oscillating　wave…forms。　Powerful　underlights　ignited　on　the　plinthtop
beneath　the　floating　head　of　the　Titan　and　threw　its　features　into　malevolent　relief。
I　sank　down　behind　one　of　the　s