The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第21部分

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I　sank　down　behind　one　of　the　stations；　which　vibrated　and　chattered　against　my　back。　The　sudden；　inexplicable　life　was　daunting　and
alarming。　Somewhere　close　by；　one　particular　machine　was　rattling　and　repeating　like　an　old　machine　gun　on　full　auto。
As　suddenly　as　it　had　started；　the　life　died　away。　Stations　fell　silent　and　their　lights　went　out。　The　throb　of　power　leaked　away　into　the
darkness。　The　Titan's　underlights　dimmed　and　died。　One　by　one；　the　holograms　extinguished　and　the　desks　fell　dormant。　The　chirring
of　cogs　and　servos　and　the　throb　of　valves　ebbed　into　stillness。
The　last　sound　to　go　was　that　autogun　racket。　It　continued　for　a　good　few　seconds　after　everything　else　had　stopped；　then　it　too　ceased
abruptly。
The　chapel　was　then　as　dark　and　quiet　as　it　had　been　when　I　first　entered。
I　got　to　my　feet。　There　had　been　no　power　in　this　place；　no　feeding　source。　What　had　started　and　woken　the　machines？　It　had　to　have
been　some　signal　from　outside。
Using　commonsense　and　guesswork；　I　went　around　the　circle　of　stations　nearest　to　me；　hunting　for　the　one　that　had　chattered　like　a
stubber。　The　most　likely　candidate　was　a　bulky　desk　that　seemed　to　have　external　and　general　gain　vox　functions。　But　its　keys　were
dead　to　my　touch。
On　a　whim；　I　got　down　on　my　knees　and　peered　behind　the　desk。　There　were　fixings　where　a　basket　hopper　should　have　been　sitting　to
catch　the　print…outs。　The　hopper　was　missing。　The　sheaf　of　print…out　had　fallen　down　into　the　dust　under　the　desk。
I　scooped　the　sheaf　out。　It　was　about　nine　metres　long；　punch…cut　by　the　printer's　jaws　into　shorter　sections。　Clearly　this　desk　had　been
disgorging　print…outs　for　some　time　without　anyone　around　to　collect　them。　The　sections　at　the　bottom　of　the　spool　were　beginning　to
yellow。
I　looked　them　over；　but　they　meant　nothing。　Tabulated　columns　of　machine　code　in　close；　regular　bands。　Carefully；　I　laid　them　out　on
the　travertine　floor　and　rolled　them　tightly　into　a　thick　scroll。
I　was　nearly　finished　when　my　vox　pipped。
'Aegis　wishes　thorn。　By　halflight　disabused；　in　Administratum　by　heart。　Scales　fall　from　eyes。　Multifarious；　the　grasp　of　changelings。
Pattern　thimble　advised。'
'Pattern　thimble　acknowledged。　Thorn　arising　by　heart。'
Medea's　words　had　told　me　all　I　needed　to　know。　They　had　found　something　in　the　Administratum；　and　they　needed　me　back　swiftly。
There　was　danger　from　Chaos　all　around。　I　should　trust　no　one。
I　bolstered　my　laspistol　and　tucked　the　print…out　scroll　into　my　waistband。
As　I　ran　out　of　the　annex　and　down　the　red…striped　tunnel；　I　tugged　my　combat　shotgun　out　over　my　shoulder　and　racked　the　slide。

EIGHTEEN
PATTERN　THIMBLE。
GOING　ROCKSIDE。
GEARD　BURE？S　TRANSLITHOPEDE。
GLOSSIA'S　NOT　SO　hard　to　understand。　It　uses　subliminal　symbols　and　''head　words''。　Don't　look　for　a　mystery　in　it；　it　isn't　there。　That's
why　it　works　so　well　as　a　private　code。　There　is　no　encryption　…　at　least　no　mathematical　encryption　…　to　be　calculated　and　broken。　It　is
idiomatic　and　visceral。　It　is　verbal　impressionism。　It　uses　the　uncalculable；　unregulated　mechanisms　of　poetry　and　intimacy　to　perform
its　functions。　There　have　been　times　in　the　last　…　well；　the　increasing　years　of　my　career；　let's　say　…　there　have　been　times　when　an　ally
or　retainer　of　mine　has　sent　me　a　Glossia　message　using　terms　and　words　that　have　never　been　used　before。　And　still；　I　have
understood　them。
It's　a　knack。　It's　knowing　how　to　use；　and　improvise；　a　shared　cant。　There　are　basic　rules　of　construction　and　metaphor；　of　course；　but
Glossia's　strength　lies　in　its　nebulous　vagueness。　Its　idioms。　Its　resonance。　It　is　akin　to　the　gut…slang　of　the　Ermenoes；　who　have
replaced　language　with　subtleties　of　skin…colour。
Pattern　thimble；　for　example。
''Pattern''　indicates　a　course　of　action　or　behaviour。　''Thimble''　is　a　qualifier；　disclosing　the　manner　or　mode　of　said　action。　A　thimble　is
a　small　tin　cap　that　you　might　use　to　protect　your　finger　from　the　short；　sharp　stabs　of　a　needle　during　darning。　It　wouldn't　fend　off；
say；　an　atomic　strike　or　a　horde　of　genestealers。　But；　in　the　idiom　of　Glossia；　it　would　seal　you　against　sudden；　spearing；　close　attacks。
It　is　also　quiet　and　unremarkable。
And　so；　quietly；　unremarkably；　I　slipped　down　the　tunnel　ways　of　Cinchare　Minehead　towards　the　officium　of　the　Administratum。　I
was　stealthy　and　secretive；　and　my　motion　tracker　and　shotgun　were　my　thimble。
Pattern　thimble。　Gideon　Ravenor　had　coined　that　particular　phrase；　adding　it　to　the　vocabulary　of　my　Glossia。

I　thought　of　Ravenor；　alone　in　his　plastic…sheeted　cot　on　Thracian。　My　anger；　dimmed　these　last　few　months；　welled。
MY　MOTION　TRACKER　warned　me　into　cover　at　a　junction　of　transit　tunnels　about　half　a　kilometre　from　the　plaza。　Hidden　behind　a
stack　of　empty　promethium　drams；　I　watched　as　two　electric　buggies　buzzed　past；　heading　towards　the　concourse　area。　Bandelbi　was
driving　the　lead　one。　There　were　two　miners　with　him；　and　three　more　in　the　buggy　behind。　They　all　looked　grimy　and　slovenly。
THERE　WERE　MORE　buggies　in　the　plaza；　parked　out　in　front　of　the　security　office。　I　saw　a　couple　of　labourer…types　lounging　in　the
building　doorway；　smoking　lho…sticks。
I　slipped　into　the　miner's　welfare　through　the　back。　Medea　and　Aemos　were　waiting　for　me　in　the　shabby　rec…room　billet。
'Well？'
'We　nosed　around　the　Administratum；'　said　Aemos。　'It　wasn't　even　locked。'
'Then　the　place　started　to　crawl　with　Kaleil's　people　and　we　skedaddled；'　said　Medea。　Both　of　them　looked　tense　and　pensive。
'They　see　you？'
She　shook　her　head。　'But　there　is　a　damn　sight　more　than　twenty　of　them。　I　counted　thirty；　thirty…five　at　least。'
'What　did　you　find？'
'Recent　archives　are　non…existent；　or　they've　been　erased；'　said　Aemos。　'Nothing　for　the　last　two　and　a　half　months；　not　even　a
caretaking　log；　the　sort　of　thing　you'd　expect　Kaleil　to　have　been　obliged　to　keep。'
'He　could　be　recording　it　at　the　security　office。'
'If　he　was　following　official　protocol；　it　would　have　been　automatically　copied　to　the　central　archives。　You　know　how　anal　the
Administratum　is　about　keeping　full　records。'
'What　else？'
'Well；　it　was　a　cursory　examination　…　we　didn't　have　much　time。　But　Kaleil　told　us　Imperial　Allied　pulled　out　nine　months　ago　and
Ortog　Promethium　followed　them　two　months　later。　According　to　the　archive；　both　corporations　were　active；　working　and　fully
crewed　as　recently　as　three　months　ago。　There's　no　record　of　any　〃Grav〃　cases；　nor　any　filed　reports　or　memos　about　the　possibility　of
such　a　problem。'
'Kaleil　was　lying？'
'In　all　respects。'
'So　where　is　everyone？'
Aemos　shrugged。
'Do　we　leave　now？'　Medea　asked。
'I'm　determined　to　find　Bure；'　I　replied；　'and　there's　something　afoot　here　that　really　ought　to—'
'Gregor；'　Aemos　murmured。　'I　hate　to　be　the　one　to　point　this　out；　but　this　isn't　your　concern。　Although　I　know　full　well　you　are　as
loyal　to　the　Golden　Throne　now　as　you　ever　were；　in　most　respects　that　matter；　you're　no　longer　an　inquisitor。　Your　authority　is　no
longer　recognised　by　the　Imperium。　You're　a　rogue…　a　rogue　with　more　than　enough　problems　of　your　own　to　sort　out　without
involving　yourself　in　this。'
I　think　he　expected　me　to　be　angry。　I　wasn't。
'You're　right…　but　I　can't　just　stop　being　a　servant　of　the　Emperor；　not　just　like　that；　no　matter　what　the　rest　of　mankind　believes　me　to
be。　If　I　can　do　any　good　here；　I　will。　I　don't　care　about　recognition；　or　official　sanction。'
'I　told　you　he'd　say　that；'　Medea　sneered　at　Aemos。
'Yes；　you　did。　She　did；'　he　said；　looking　back　at　me。
'Sorry　to　be　so　predictable。'
'Moral　constancy　is　nothing　to　apologise　for；'　said　Aemos。
I　took　the　scroll　of　paper　I'd　recovered　from　the　annex　and　showed　it　to　my　old　savant。
'What　do　you　make　of　this？'　I　told　them　what　had　happened　in　the　sanctum　of　the　Machine…God。
He　studied　the　curling　sheaf　for　a　few　minutes；　checking　back　and　forth。
'There　are　elements　of　this　machine　code　that　I　can't　make　out。　Adeptus　encryption。　But…　well；　look　at　the　text　breaks。　These　are　the
filed　records　of　regular　transmissions　from　outside　the　minehead。　Every…　six　hours；　to　the　second。'
'And　the　sanctum's　dormant　systems　would　wake　up　the　moment　an　external　transmission　came　in？'
'In　order　to　record　it；　yes。　How　long　were　the　machines　in　life？'
I　shook　my　head。　'Two；　maybe　two　and　half　minutes。'
'Two　minutes　forty…eight　seconds？'　he　asked。
'Could　be。'
He　ran　his　finger　along　a　line　of　header　text　above　the　last　code…burst。　'That's　exactly　how　long　the　latest　transmission　lasted。'
'So　someone's　out　there？　Outside　the　minehead　on　Cinchare　somewhere；　sending　regular　transmissions　back　to　the　Adeptus　annex？'
'Not　just　someone…　it's　Bure。　This　is　the　Adeptus　code…form　for　his　name；'　Aemos　leafed　back　through　the　sheets　and　studied　the
yellowest　and　oldest。　'He's　been　broadcasting　for…　eleven　weeks。'
'What　is　he　saying？'
'I've　no　idea。　The　main　text　is　too　deeply　codified。　Mechanilingua…A　or　C　or　possibly　some　modern　revision　of　one　of　the　hexadecimal
servito…ware　scripts。　Possibly　Impulse　Analog　version　nine。　I　can't—'
'You　can't　read　it。　That's　enough　for　me。'

'All　right。　But　I　know　where　he　is。'
I　paused。　'You　do？'
Aemos　smiled　and　adjusted　his　heavy　augmetic　eyewear。　'Well；　no。　I　don't　actually　know　where　he　is。　But　I　can　find　him。'
'How？'
He　pointed　to　a　vertical　strip　of　coloured　bars　that　ran　down　the　side　of　each　transmission　burst。　'Each　broadcast　is　routinely
accompanied　by　a　spectrographic　report　on　the　location　of　the　transmitter。　These　colours　are　a　condensed　expression　of　the　type；　mix
and　density　of　the　rock　surrounding　him。　It's　like　a　fingerprint。　If　I　had　a　good　quality　strata　map　of　Cinchare；　and　a　geologicae　auspex；
I　could　track　him　down。'
I　smiled。　'I　knew　there　was　a　reason　I　kept　you　around。'
'So　we're　going　after　him？'　asked　Medea。
'Yes；　we　are。　We'll　need　transport。　A　prospecting　pod；　maybe。　Can　you　handle　one　of　those？'
'Piece　of　cake。　Where　do　we　get　one？'
'Imperial　Allied　has　an　excursion　terminal　full　of　them；'　Aemos　said。　'I　saw　a　schematic　guide　of　the　minehead　screwed　to　a　wall。'　I
had　seen　just　the　same　sort　of　thing；　but　I　didn't　recall　a　detail　like　that。　It　reminded　me　of　the　extraordinary　photo…memory　Aemos
possessed。
'What　about　the　chart　and　auspex　you　said　you'll　need？'　Medea　asked。
'Any　prospector　machine　will　have　an　on…board　mineralogicae　or　geologicae　scanner；'　said　Aemos。　'That　will　suffice。　A
comprehensive　chart；　though；　that'll　be　less　of　a　certainty。　We'd　better　make　sure　we　have　one　before　we　set　off。'
He　sat　down　on　his　cot　and　began　to　adjust　the　settings　of　his　wrist…mounted　data…slate。
'What　are　you　doing？'　I　asked；　sitting　down　next　to　him。
'Downloading　a　chart　from　the　security　office's　cogitorum。'
'Can　you　do　that？'　Medea　asked。
'It's　simple　enough。　Despite　the　gravities；　my　slate's　vox…link　has　enough　range　to　communicate　with　the　office's　codifier。　I　can　make　a
text…bridge　and　ask　it　to　send　its　chart　files。'
'Yeah；　yeah；　but　can　you　do　that　without　knowing　the　system's　user…code？'　Medea　asked。
'No；'　said　Aemos。　'But　fortunately；　I　do　know　it。'
'How　come？'
'It　was　on　a　note　taped　to　the　edge　of　the　central　control　desk。　Didn't　you　see　it？'
Both　Medea　and　I　shook　our　heads　and　smiled。　Just　sitting　there　with　Kaleil；　talking　and　sipping　fifth…rate　amasec；　Aemos　had　soaked
up　and　memorised　every　detail　of　the　place。
'One　question；'　Medea　said。　'We　don't　know　what's　going　on　here；　but　its　probably　a　safe　bet　your　friend　is　no　friend　of　Kaleil　and　his
pals。　If　we　can　find　him　using　this；　why　haven't　they？'
'I　doubt　even　an　experienced　miner　could　make　much　sense　of　this　spectroscopy　expression。　It's　an　Adeptus　code；'　Aemos　said；
proudly。
'It's　simpler　than　that；'　I　said。　'They　haven't　found　it。　The　annex　was　covered　in　dust；　undisturbed。　I　don't　think　Kaleil　or　any　of　his
people　have　been　into　the　annex。　Fear　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　is　a　strong　disincentive。　They　don't　know　what　we　know。'
IN　THE　NIGHT；　they　came　to　kill　us。
Once　Aemos　had　downloaded　the　chart　…　and　several　other　files　of　data　besides　…　we　resolved　to　get　a　few　hours'　sleep　before　making
our　move。
I　had　been　asleep　for　about　a　hour　when　I　woke　in　the　dark　to　find　Medea's　fingers　stroking　my　cheek。
As　soon　as　I　stirred；　she　pinched　my　lips　shut　tight。
'Spectres；　invasive；　spiral　vine；'　she　whispered。
My　eyes　became　accustomed　to　the　half…light。　Aemos　was　snoring。
I　rose　off　my　cot　and　heard　what　Medea　had　heard：　the　stairs　outside　the　rec…room　creaking。　Medea　was　pulling　on　her　flight　suit；　but
keeping　her　needle　pistol　aimed　at　the　door。
I　pulled　my　laspistol　from　its　holster　on　the　floor　and　then　leant　over　to　Aemos；　putting　my　hand　over　his　mouth。
His　eyes　flicked　open。
'Keep　snoring　but　get　ready　to　move；'　I　whispered　into　his　ear。
Aemos　struggled　up；　snorting　out　fake　snores　as　he　collected　up　his　robe　and　cane。
I　had　stripped　down　to　my　vest。　My　jacket　and　motion　tracker　were　on　the　floor　at　the　foot　of　the　cot。　There　was　no　time　to　reach　for
them。
Someone　kicked　the　door　in。　The　bright　blue　lances　of　two　laser　sights　stabbed　into　the　rec…room；　and　a　tight　burst　of　stubber　fire　blew
holes　in　my　vacated　cot　and　puffed　padding　fibres　up　from　the　wounds　in　the　mattress。
Medea　and　I　returned　fire；　bracketing　the　doorway　with　about　a　dozen　shots　between　us。　Two　dark　shapes　toppled　backwards。
Someone　screamed　in　pain。
A　flurry　of　gunfire　from　ground　level　outside　slammed　up　in　through　the　windows；　blowing　one　of　them　right　out　of　its　mounting　in　a
shower　of　glascite。　Ruined　slat…blinds　rippled　and　jiggled　with　the　impacts。
'Back！'　I　cried；　firing　twice　at　a　shape　in　the　doorway。　A　triple　pulse　of　answering　las…fire　scorched　past　my　head。

But　light　flooded　in　behind　us　as　a　rear　door　crashed　open。　Medea　swung　around；　lithe　and　long…limbed；　and　broke　in　the　face　of　the
first　intruder　with　a　high　kick　that　sent　him　reeling　back。
Figures　charged　in　from　the　doors　before　and　behind　us。　I　shot　two；　but　then　was　carried　over　onto　my　back　by　two　more　who
struggled　frantically　to　rip　the　laspistol　out　of　my　hand。　I　kneed　one　in　the　groin　and　shot　him　through　the　neck　as　he　coiled　away。
The　other　one　had　his　hands　on　my　throat。
I　speared　my　mind　right　into　his　and　triggered　a　massive　cerebral　haemorrhage　that　burst　his　eyeballs　and　sent　him　slack。
The　smell　of　blood　and　cordite　and　the　miners'　unwashed　bodies　was　intense。　Medea　danced　back；　and　delivered　a　forearm　slam　to　the
face　of　another　assassin　that　made　him　stumble　and　gasp。
She　flexed　and　delivered　a　spin…kick　which　hit　him　so　hard　he　smashed　back　out　of　the　window。
Another　was　coming　at　her　from　behind。　I　saw　a　knife　blade　flash　in　the　gloom。
Aemos；　slow　but　steady；　swung　round　and　broke　the　knife…man's　neck　with　a　single　punch。　Another　thing　too　easy　to　underestimate
about　my　old　savant　was　the　inhuman　strength　his　augmetic　exo…chassis　provided。
There　was　a　little　more　wild　gunfire；　and　then　the　spitting　sound　of　Medea's　Glavian　pistol。
I　curved　my　back　and　sprang　back　onto　my　feet　in　time　to　gun　down　a　man　with　a　shotgun　who　was　coming　in　through　the　door。
Silence。　Drifting　smoke。
Voices　were　shouting　below　on　the　plaza。
'Grab　your　things！'　I　ordered。　'We're　going　right　now！'
HALF…DRESSED　AND　lugging　the　rest　of　our　kit；　we　scrambled　down　the　back　stairs。　The　body　of　one　miner　shot　by　Medea　lay
crumpled　on　the　steps　under　the　first　landing。　The　front　of　his　Ortog　Promethium　overalls　was　soaked　with　blood。
There　was　a　livid　birthmark　on　the　side　of　his　awkwardly　twisted　neck。
'Look　familiar？'　asked　Aemos。
It　did。
'Didn't　that　creep　Bandelbi　have　a　birthmark　too？'　Medea　asked。
'Most　certainly；'　I　replied。
WE　BROKE　OUR　way　through　a　series　of　cluttered　storerooms　and　came　out　in　an　access　alley　behind　the　shops　adjoining　the　welfare。　A
ginger…haired　miner　posted　as　rearguard　for　the　ambush　turned　in　surprise　as　we　emerged；　his　hands　fumbling　with　the　shotgun　slung
over　his　shoulder　on　a　leather　strap。
Drop　it　and　come　here！　I　said；　using　my　will。
He　tossed　the　weapon　down　and　trotted　over　to　us；　his　eyes　glazed　and　confused。
Show　me　your　neck！　I　willed　again。
He　brushed　up　his　tousled　hair　with　one　hand　and　tugged　his　worksuit's　neckline　down　with　the　other。　The　birthmark　was　there；
centred　on　his　nape。
'We　haven't　got　time　for　this！'　Aemos　said。　Running　footsteps　were　pounding　through　the　building　behind　us　and　we　could　hear　shouts
and　curses。
'Where　did　you　get　this　mark？'　I　willed　at　the　ginger…haired　man。
'Kaleil　gave　it　me；'　he　said　slackly。
What　does　it　mean？
Driven　by　my　undeniable　will…force；　he　tried　to　say　something　that　the　rest　of　his　mind　and　soul　simply　forbade。　It　sounded　like　''Lith''
but　it　was　impossible　to　say　for　sure　as　the　effort　killed　him。
'Dammit；　Gregor！　We　have　to　go！'　Aemos　roared。
As　if　to　prove　his　point；　two　miners　burst　out　of　the　doorway　we　had　come　through；　aiming　autorifles。　Medea　and　I　whipped　around　as
one　and　dropped　them　both；　one　kill　shot　each。
AEMOS'S　FAULTLESS　RECALL　led　us　through　the　winding　sub…streets　of　Cinchare　Minehead　to　the　massive；　dank　bulk　of　Imperial
Allied。　There　was　a　hue　and　cry　behind　us；　mixed　with　the　whine　of　electric　buggies。
We　ran　across　the　plant's　wide；　metal　drawbridge；　through　a　rockcrete　gatehouse　festooned　with　razorwire；　and　on　down　through　the
echoing　entrance　hall。
Footsteps　followed。
THE　EXCURSION　TERMINAL　was　a　semi…circular　barn　of　corrugated　steel　overlooking　the　mouth　of　the　main　working。　Six　prospecting
pods　sat　in　oily　iron　cradles　under　the　barn's　roof。　They　were　slug…shaped　machines；　painted　in　the　silver　and　khaki　colours　of　Imperial
Allied。　Each　one　had　a　rack　of　flood　and　spotlights　mounted　above　the　cockpit；　and　several　large　servo　arms　and　locator　dishes　arrayed
under　the　chin。
'That　one！'　Medea　yelled；　heading　for　the　third　in　line。　She　was　still　trying　to　fasten　her　flight　suit　properly。　I　carried　my　jacket　and
motion　tracker。　There　had　been　no　time　to　stop　and　get　dressed。
'Why　this　one？'　I　yelled；　following　her。
'The　power　hoses　are　all　still　attached　and　it's　showing　green　across　the　board　on　the　telltales！　Unclamp　the　hoses！'

I　threw　my　stuff　to　Aemos；　who　hurried　aboard　behind　Medea　through　the　small　side　hatch；　and　ran　to　where　three　thick　power　cables
were　attached　to　the　multi…socket　in　the　flank　of　the　pod。　Just　as　Medea　had　noticed；　all　the　indicator　lights　above　the　socket　were
green。
I　twisted　the　valves　and　pulled　them　free；　one　by　one。　The　last　one　was　reluctant　and　needed　a　moment　of　brute　force。
Las…shots　spanked　into　the　hull　casing　beside　me。
I　jerked　the　hose　free　and　then　turned；　firing　back　down　the　length　of　the　barn　terminal。　The　pod's　attitude　thrusters　began　to　cough　and
wheeze　as　Medea　brought　the　craft　to　life。
Solid　and　las…shots　peppered　around　me。　I　ran　to　the　hatch　and　climbed　in。　Medea　was　at　the　helm　in　the　cramped　cockpit。
'Go！'　I　cried；　slamming　the　hatch　shut。
'Come　on！　Come　on！'　Medea　cursed　at　the　pod's　controls。　The　over…urged　engines　whined　painfully。
'Cradle　lock！'　Aemos　spluttered　desperately。
Realising　her　mistake；　Medea　swore　expertly；　eased　the　power　down　a　tad；　and　threw　a　greasy　yellow　lever　on　the　right…hand
bulkhead。　There　was　a　jarring　clank　as　the　locking　cuff　that　held　the　pod　tight　in　the　cradle　disengaged。
'Sorry；'　she　grinned。
Freed；　the　pod　lifted　out　of　its　landing　c