The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第22部分

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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　cradle；　swayed　to　the　right　as　gunfire　hunted　for　it；　and　then　accelerated　away；　into　the　lightless
mouth　of　the　mine　tunnels。
THE　UPPER　WORKINGS　of　the　Imperial　Allied　mines　were　huge　excavations　reinforced　with　rockcrete　and　filled　with　abandoned　mining
machines。　Medea　kicked　in　the　pod's　lamp　array　and　illuminated　our　path　with　hard　spot…beams　of　clear　white　light。　At　the　far　end　of
one　reinforced　spur；　the　lamps　picked　out　a　sudden；　wide　gradient　where　the　horizontal　incuts　of　the　surface　mines　began　their　descent。
Running　down　the　steep　slope　were　derelict　cable…trams　of　filthy　ore…hoppers　and　a　funicular　railway　for　transporting　workcrews　to
the　lower　faces。
Aemos　sat　behind　us　in　the　pod's　small　cabin；　reviewing　the　charts　he　had　obtained　from　the　security　office。　'Continue　down；'　was　all
he　said。
The　steep　access　bore　descended　for　about　a　kilometre　and　a　half；　occasionally　flattening　into　work…shelves　with　entries　to　side　seams。
The　view　through　the　front　screen　seemed　to　be　in　black　and　white：　the　fierce　white　light　piercing　the　blackness　and　revealing　only
pale　grey　dust　and　rock；　and　the　occasional　sparkle　of　druse。
Medea　slowed　us　as　we　passed　over　more　fragmented　and　extensive　piles　of　breakdown　and　then；　under　Aemos's　instruction；
manoeuvred　us　down　into　the　throat　of　an　almost　vertical　chimney。　This　chimney　…　a　pitch　in　mining　terms　…　was　a　natural　formation；
possibly　an　ancient　lava　tube。　Slowly　revolving　laterally；　we　hovered　down　into　it。　Flowstone　caked　the　walls　like　swathes　of　creamy
drapery　and　quilled　bushes　of　volcanic　glass　sprouted　from　outcrops。　The　space　was　small；　even　for　a　compact　pod　like　the　one　we　had
borrowed。　Occasionally；　Medea　would　nudge　or　clip　an　out　thrust　of　quills　and　the　glass　fragments　would　fall　silently；　glittering；　into
the　pit　below。
About　two　kilometres　down；　the　pitch　opened　out　into　a　complex　series　of　curving　tubes；　sub…caves　and　sumps。　It　was　like　moving　out
of　an　oesophagus　into　the　complex　chambers　of　an　intestinal　tract。　The　flow…stone　started　to　show　more　colour：　steely　blues　with
milky　calcite　swirls；　mottled　reds　glinting　with　oolites。　Flinty　black　druse　and　other　clastic　litter　covered　the　smoothed　folds　of　the
ancient　floor。
Medea　pointed　my　attention　to　the　small　scanner　box　mounted　below　the　main　petrographic　assayer。　The　little　screen　was　awash　with
an　almost　indecipherable　graphic　of　ghosting　strata　layers　and　reflecting　lithic　densities。　Three　bright　yellow　cursors　showed　clearly　in
the　upper　quadrant。
'They're　coming　after　us；'　she　said。
'They　seem　to　know　where　we　are　right　enough。　How　are　they　tracking　us？'
'Same　way　we're　getting　such　a　clean　return　on　their　position。'
'Are　the　locators　on　this　crate　that　powerful？'
Medea　shook　her　head。　'They're　fine　for　the　immediate　locality；　but　they've　got　nowhere　near　enough　gain　to　penetrate　the　rock。'
'So？'
'I　think　all　these　prospector　pods　have　high…powered　beacons；　probably　built　into　flight　recorders。　They'd　need　them　for　routine　search
and　recovery。'
'I'll　take　a　look。'
I　swung　out　of　my　seat　and　moved　back　down　the　pod；　stooping；　and　using　the　overhead　hand…rails　to　support　myself。　Aemos　was　still
at　work。　He'd　fired　up　the　pod's　mineralogicae　auspex；　and　was　running　a　complex　cross…search　for　the　spectographic　fingerprints　that
appeared　on　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　transmissions。　He　didn't　even　have　the　scrolls　open　any　more：　the　complex　subtleties　of　the
colour　bars　had　long　since　been　committed　to　memory。
Every　few　minutes；　he　consulted　the　main　chart　and　called　a　course…correction　to　Medea。
At　the　rear　of　the　pod；　between　racks　holding　old　rebreathers　with　perishing　rubber　visor…seals；　I　found　a　small　crawl　space　into　the
engine　bay。
I　stuck　my　head　and　shoulders　inside；　and　shone　around　with　a　lamp…pack　I'd　unbuckled　from　one　of　the　rebreather　sets。　A　simple
process　of　elimination　directed　me　to　a　fat　metal　drum　clamped　to　the　underside　of　the　gravitic　assembly　and　the　housing　for　the
kinaesthetic　gyroscopes。　Adeptus　Mechanicus　purity　seals　secured　its　cover。

I　slid　back　out　into　the　cabin；　selected　a　medium　plasma　cutter　from　the　tool　web；　and　went　back　in。　The　hot　blue　tongue　of　the　cutter
sliced　the　drum's　cover　off　and　fused　its　pulsing　innards。
Back　in　the　cockpit；　I　saw　we　were　now　travelling　down　a　wide　cavern　that　was　barbed　with　oily　dripstones　and　varnished　with
incandescent　blooms　of　moon…milk　and　angel's　hair。
'They　look　lost　already；'　Medea　remarked；　nodding　at　the　scanner　box。　She　was　right。　The　yellow　cursors　were　moving　with　nothing
like　the　same　confidence。　'They　were　milling；　trying　to　reacquire　our　signal。'
WE　TRAVELLED　FOR　two　more　hours；　through　small　flask…chambers　gleaming　with　cavepearls；　across　vast　low　seas　of　chert　and　lapilli；
between　massive　stalactites　that　bit　tunnels　in　two　like　the　incisors　of　prediluvial　monsters。　Domepits　and　sumps　sheened　with
brackish　alkaline　water　and　the　smoke　snaking　from　nests　of　fumaroles　betrayed　the　fact　that　there　was　now　a　rudimentary
atmosphere：　methane；　sulphur；　radon　and　pockets　of　carbon　monoxide。　Venting　cases　from　Cinchare's　active　heart　and　the　gasproducts
of　chemical　and　gravito…chemical　reactions　built　and　collected　here；　far　below　ground；　leaking　only　slowly　up　to　the　airless
surface。　Hull　temperature　was　increasing。　We　were　now　about　fifteen　kilometres　down；　and　beginning　to　feel　the　effects　of　the
asthenosphere。
'Hey！'　said　Medea　suddenly。
She　slowed　the　pod；　and　swung　it　around；　traversing　the　lights。　We　were　in　a　gypnate　chamber　where　the　chert…covered　floor　was
scalloped　by　several　gours　formed　by　water　eons　before。　Several　side　spurs　led　away　into　tight　pinches　or　were　revealed　on　the　chart　to
pinch　out　no　further　than　twenty　metres　in。
'What　did　you　see？'　I　asked。
'There！'
The　spot…lamps　framed　a　black　shape　that　I　thought　for　a　moment　was　just　a　jagged　pile　of　boulders　and　stalagmite　bosses。　But　Medea
roved　us　in。
It　was　a　prospecting　pod；　similar　to　ours；　but　bearing　the　crest　of　Ortog　Promethium。　It　had　been　crushed　and　split　like　an　old　can；　the
stanchions　of　its　cabin　protruding　from　the　metal　hull　like　ribs。
'Hell…'　Medea　murmured。
'Mining's　a　dangerous　job；'　I　said。
'That's　recent；'　Aemos　said；　appearing　at　our　shoulders。　'Look　at　the　tephra。'
'The　what？'　asked　Medea。
'It's　a　generic　term　for　clastic　materials。　The　dust　and　shale　bed　the　wreck's　lying　on。　Move　the　lamp　round。　There。　The　tephra's
yellowish…white　gypnate　all　around；　but　it's　scorched　and　fused　under　the　wreck。　Mineral　smoke　from　the　fumaroles　we　passed　just
now　vent　back　down　here　and　cover　everything　with　oxidised　dust。　I'd　wager　if　it's　been　there　more　than　a　month；　the　powder　would
have　overlaid　the　scorching…　and　coated　the　wreck。
'Pop　the　hatch；'　I　said。
THE　SUBTERRANEAN　ATMOSPHERE　seemed　scalding　hot　and　I　began　to　sweat　freely　the　moment　I　jumped　down　from　the　sill。　I　could
hear　nothing　except　my　breath　rasping　inside　my　rebreather　mask。　I　trudged　round　to　the　front　of　the　hovering　pod　into　the　cones　of　its
lights；　and　saw　Aemos　and　Medea　in　the　lit　cockpit；　both　hidden　behind　rebreather　masks　of　their　own。
I　waved　once　and　crunched　off　over　the　dusty　sill；　my　bootcaps　catching　the　occasional　geode　which　scattered　and　flashed　in　the　light。
There　was　no　mistaking　the　blast　holes　in　the　wreck's　hull。　Sustained　fire　from　a　multi…laser　had　split　the　pod　wide　open。　I　shone　my
hand　torch　in　through　the　rents　and　saw　a　blackened　cabin　space；　burned　out。
The　three　crew　members　were　still　in　there；　at　their　posts；　reduced　to　grimacing　mummies　by　the　acidic　air；　and　by　the　hundreds　of
glistening　white　worms　that　writhed　and　burrowed　as　my　light　hit　them。　It　figured　that　with　its　hot；　wet；　gaseous　interior；　Cinchare　was
a　far　from　dead　world。
More　troglobyte　things　scurried　and　squirmed　around　my　feet。　Long…legged　metallic　beetles　and　inflated；　jelly…like　molluscs；　all　drawn
to　this　unexpected　source　of　rich　nutrients。
Something　moved　beside　me　and　slammed　into　my　left　hip。　I　fell　hard　against　the　broken　hull；　cursing　that　I　hadn't　been　wearing　my
motion　tracker。　It　came　in　again；　and　this　time　I　felt　a　sharp　pain　in　my　left　thigh。　I　kicked　out　with　a　mask…muffled　curse。
It　was　about　the　size　of　a　large　dog；　but　longer　and　lower；　moving　on　lean　hind　limbs。　Its　skin　was　nearly　silver；　and　its　eye…less　head
was　just　a　vast　set　of　jaws　filled　with　hundreds　of　transparent　fangs。　All　around　the　maw；　long　sensory　bristles　and　tendrils　twitched
and　rippled。
It　lunged　again；　its　thin；　stiff　tail　raised　high　as　a　counterbalance。　This　thing；　I　guessed；　was　top　of　the　food　chain　in　Cinchare's
lightless　cavities。　Too　big　to　force　its　way　inside　the　wreck　to　get　at　the　corpses；　it　had　been　lurking　outside；　feeding　on　the　carrion
worms　and　molluscs　that　had　congregated　on　the　crash。
With　a　twist　of　its　head；　it　had　a　good　grip　on　my　left　ankle。　I　could　feel　the　tips　of　its　teeth　biting　through　the　heavy　leather　of　my
boot。
I　managed　to　tug　my　shotgun　from　the　scabbard　on　my　back　and　shoot　it　through　the　torso　at　point　black　range。　Viscous　tissues　and
filmy　flesh　scattered　in　all　directions　and　the　thing　flopped　over。　By　the　time　I　had　prized　its　jaws　off　my　boot　with　my　knife；　the
carrion…eaters　had　begun　to　swarm　over　it　and　feed。
WE　MOVED　OFF　again；　down　a　gour…lined　spur　and　into　a　cavern　breathtak…ingly　encrusted　with　glass…silk　and　billions　of　cavepearls。

'There's　been　fighting　down　here；'　I　told　Aemos　and　Medea；　raising　my　voice　to　be　heard　over　the　re…cycling　cabin　air　as　we　pumped
the　last　of　the　coarse　Cinchare　gas…soup　out。
'Who's　fighting　who？'
I　shrugged；　and　sat　back　to　tug　one　of　the　predator's　broken　fangs　out　of　my　boot　leather。
'Well；'　said　Aemos；　'You'll　be　interested　to　know　that　the　cavern　with　the　wreck　in　it　matched　one　of　the　spectroscope　traces　from　the
Mechanicus　transmissions　exactly。'
'How　long　ago？'
'About　two　weeks。'
'So…　Bure　could　have　been　the　one　who　did　the　shooting。'
'Bure…　or　whoever's　sending　transmissions　back　to　the　annex。'
'But　why　would　he　take　out　a　prospector　pod？'　I　wondered　aloud。
'Rather　depends　on　what　the　prospector　pod　was　trying　to　do　to　him；'　said　Medea。
Aemos　raised　his　tufty　eyebrows。　'Most　perturbatory。'
ANOTHER　THREE　HOURS；　another　two　kilometres　down。　It　was　damn　hot；　and　the　air　outside　was　thick　with　venting　steams　and　gases。
Fumaroles；　some　large；　some　in　scabby　clusters；　belched　black　smoke　into　the　caves；　riddling　some　areas　like　honeycomb。　Several
caverns　and　domepits　were　home　to　luminous　acidic　lakes；　where　the　geothermals　steadily　simmered　the　water。　Gorges　and　the
occasional　pitch　showed　flares　of　red　light　from　lava　rivers　and　asthenospheric　cauldrons　of　molten　rock。
We　no　longer　had　to　rely　on　the　lamps。　The　cave　systems　were　lit　by　streams　of　glowing　magma；　flaming　lakes　of　pitch　and
promethium　and　thick；　sticky　curtains　and　rafts　of　bio…luminescent　fungi　that　thrived　in　the　heated　ducts。　The　pod's　air…scrubbers　were
no　longer　able　to　remove　the　scent　of　sulphur　from　the　cabin　air；　and　the　cooling　system　was　inadequate。　We　were　all　sweating；　and　so
were　the　interior　walls　of　the　cabin。　Condensation　dribbled　down　the　bare　metal　of　the　hull's　inner　skin。
'Dead　stop；　please；'　Aemos　said。
Medea　cut　the　thrusters　and　let　us　coast　slowly　over　a　seething　lake　of　lava　that　radiated　a　glare　of　almost　neon　brilliance　from　beneath
its　blackened　crust。
Aemos　checked　the　chart　against　the　spectroscope　readings　that　the　min…eralogicae　assayer　was　sending　to　a　small　repeater　screen　in
the　cabin　bay。
'This　is　it。　The　source　location　for　the　last　transmission。'
'You're　sure？'　I　asked。
He　gave　me　a　withering　look。　'Of　course。'
'Swing　us　around；　slowly；'　I　told　Medea。　We　craned　to　look　out　of　the　pod's　front　ports；　playing　the　lamp　array　up　and　down　to　make
sense　of　the　stark　shadows　in　the　cavern　walls。
'What　are　those？　Tube　tunnels？'
'Auspex　says　they　pinch　out　in　a　few　hundred　metres。　God…Emperor；　it　looks　pretty　primordial　out　there！'　Medea　wiped　a　trickle　of
perspiration　out　of　her　eyes。
'What's　that　the　lights　are　catching　there？'
'Aemos　peered　to　where　I　was　pointing。　Amygdules；'　he　said。　'Cavities　filled　with　quartzes　or　other　secondary　minerals。'
'Okay；'　said　Medea；　unscrewing　the　stopper　of　a　water…flask。　'Seeing　as　how　you　know　everything…　what's　that？'
'Well；　I…　most　perturbatory。'
It　was　a　hole；　perfectly　circular；　thirty　metres　in　diameter；　cut　into　the　far　rock　wall。
'Edge　closer；'　I　said。　'That's　not　a　natural　formation。　It's　too…　precise。'
'What　the　hell　made　a　hole　like　that？'　Medea　murmured；　nudging　us　in。
'An　industrial　mining　drill　could—'
'This　far　down？　This　far　from　any　mine　infrastructure？'　I　cut　Aemos　short。　'Look　at　this　place。　Only　sealed　units　like　this　pod　can
function　at　this　depth。'
'Barely；'　Medea　commented；　ominously。　She　was　keeping　a　weather　eye　on　the　hull…integrity　read…out。　Amber　runes　were　twitching　on
and　off。
'It's　deep；'　I　said。　I　looked　at　the　display　for　the　forward　scanners。　'Goes　off　as　far　as　we　can　read　and　maintains　its　shape　and　size。'
'But　it's　cut　sheer　through　igneous　rock…　through　the　side　of　a　forty　kilometre　square　batholyth！　That's　solid　anthragate！'　There　was　a
note　of　confusion　in　Aemos's　frail　old　voice。
'I've　got　tremors；'　said　Medea　suddenly。　The　needles　on　the　rolling　seismograph　had　been　scratching　away　for　a　good　hour　or　more；
such　was　the　background　instability　this　deep　down。　But　now　they　were　skritching　back　and　forth　wildly。
'There's　a　pattern　to　them；'　Aemos　said。　'That's　not　tectonic。　That's　too　regular…　mechanical　almost。'
I　paused　for　a　moment；　considering　our　options。　'Take　us　into　the　shaft；'　I　said。
Medea　looked　at　me；　as　if　she　was　hoping　she'd　misheard　me。
'Let's　go。'
THE　CUT　SHAFT　was　so　perfectly　circular　it　was　scary。　As　we　sped　down；　we　could　see　that　the　inner　surface　of　the　tube　was　fused　like
flowstone；　with　radiating　patterns　of　furrows　scooped　into　it。
'This　was　plasma…cut；'　said　Aemos。　'And　whatever　cut　it；　left　an　impression　of　its　motivators　in　the　rock　before　it　cooled　and　hardened。'

The　tube　snaked　occasionally；　whilst　maintaining　its　form。　The　bends　were　long　and　slow；　but　Medea　took　them　cautiously。　The
seismograph　was　still　jiggling。
I　took　out　a　holoquill　and　wrote　a　phrase　down　on　the　back　of　a　chart…pad。
'Can　you　convert　this　into　simple　machine　code？'　I　asked　Aemos。
He　looked　at　it。　'Hmmm…　〃Vade　elquum　alatoratha　semptus〃…　you　have　a　good　memory。'
'Can　you　do　it？'
'Of　course。'
'What　is　that？'　asked　Medea。　'Some　kind　of　sorcery？'
'No；'　I　smiled　as　Aemos　got　to　work。　'It's　like　Glossia。　A　private　language；　one　that　hasn't　been　used　in　a　long　time。'
'There；'　said　Aemos。
'Punch　it　into　the　vox…ponder　and　set　it　to　continuous　repeat；'　I　said。
'I　hope　this　works；'　said　Aemos。　'I　hope　you're　right。'
'So　do　I；'　I　said。
Instrumentation　pinged。　'We're　approaching　the　end　of　the　bore…hole！'　Medea　called。　'Another　kilometre；　and　then　we're　out　into　a　huge
cavity！'
'Get　that　signal　going！'　I　urged　my　elderly　savant。
WE　WERE　ON　it　almost　before　we　were　ready。　A　massive　tube　of　machined　metal；　thirty　metres　in　diameter　and　seventy　long；　with　a
huge　plasma　cutting…screw　at　the　front　end　and　rows　of　claw…like　impellers　that　cycled　down　its　flanks　like　the　active　teeth　of　a
gigantic　chainsword。　It　had　cut　its　way　from　the　tube　and　was　grumbling　across　the　clastic　silt　of　the　chamber　floor　away　from　us；
pumping　thick　clouds　of　vapourised　rock　and　steam　out　behind　it。
'Emperor　protect　me！　It's　huge！'　Aemos　exclaimed。
'What　in　the　name　of　the　Golden　Throne　is　that？'　gasped　Medea。
'Slow　down！　Slow　down！'　I　cried；　but　she　was　already　braking　us　back　behind　the　leviathan。
'Oh　crap！'　said　Medea。　Recessed　hardpoints　along　the　giant's　flank　had　swivelled　and　opened；　and　multi…laser　batteries　had　popped　out
to　target　us。
I　grabbed　the　vox…set's　hand…mic。
'Vade　elquum　alatoratha　semptus！'　I　yelled　into　the　mic。　'Vade　elquum　alatoratha　semptus！'
The　weapons　…　which　could　have　obliterated　us　in　a　single　salvo　…　did　not　fire。　They　remained　trained　on　us；　however。　Then　heavy
shutter　doors　on　the　back　end　of　the　enormous　machine　opened　slowly；　revealing　a　small；　well…lit　hangar　space。
'We　won't　get　another　invitation！'　I　told　Medea。
With　a　worried　shrug；　she　steered　us　inside。
I　LED　THE　pair　of　them　out　of　the　pod　into　the　arched　dock…bay。　The　shutters　had　locked　shut　behind　us；　and　pungent　sulphurous　fog
pooled　around　our　feet　as　it　was　pulled　out　of　the　bay　by　chugging　air　processors。
The　bay　was　of　a　grand　design；　fluted　with　brass　fittings　and　brushed　steel。　There　was　a　brand　new　prospector　pod；　painted　oxide…red；
in　the　docking　cradle　next　to　the　one　that　had　received　our　singed　specimen。　Three　other　cradles；　new　and　black　with　oil；　lay　vacant。
All　the　light　came　from　phosphorescent　gas　filaments　in　caged　glass　hoods　around　the　room；　and　the　effect　was　a　flickering；　lambent
glow。　An　iron　screwstair　with　padded　leather　rails　led　up　to　a　boarding　platform　above　us。
'That's　a　good　sign；'　I　said。　The　bas…relief　roundel　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　was　visible　above　the　inner　door　lock　on　the　platform。
We　all　started　as　long　servitor　arms　whirred　out　from　compartments　in　the　walls。　In　a　second；　six　were　trained　on　us：　two　with　auspex
sensors；　sniffing　us；　and　four　with　weapon　mounts。
'I　suggest　we　don't　move；'　I　whispered。
The　inner　lock　clanked　and　opened。　A　hooded　figure　in　long　orange　robes　seemed　to　hover　out　onto　the　platform。　It　grasped　the
handrail　with　both　hands　and　looked　down　at　us。
'Vade　smeritus　valsara　esm；'　it　growled。
'Vade　elquum　alatoratha　semptus；'　I　replied。　'Valsarum　esoque　quonda　tasabae。'
The　figure　pulled　back　its　hood；　revealing　a　mechanical　skull　finished　in　oil…smudged　chrome。　Its　lens…like　eyes　glowed　bright　green。
Fat　black　cables　under　its　jaw　pulsed　and　the　vox…caster　screwed　into　its　throat　spoke。
'Gregor…　Liber…　It's　been　a　long　time。'

NINETEEN
WALKING　THROUGH　STONE。
LITH。
THE　INMATE。
'THIS　IS　MEDEA　Betancore；'　I　said；　once　Geard　Bure's　strong　mechanical　grip　had　finally　released　my　hand。

'Miss　Betancore。'　Bure　bowed　slightly。　'The　Adeptus　Mechanicus　of　Mars；　holy　servants　of　the　God…Machine；　bids　you　take　sanctuary
in　this；　its　worthy　device。'
I　was　about　to　hiss　at　Medea　and　explain　that　she　had　been　greeted　formally；　but；　typically；　she　needed　no　prompting。
She　deftly　made　the　machine…fist　salute　of　the　Mechanicus　and　bowed　in　return。　'May　your　devices　and　desires　serve　the　God…Emperor
until　time　runs　its　course；　magos。'
Bure　chuckled　…　an　eerie　sound　when　it　came　from　a　prosthetic　voice…box　…　and　turned　his　unblinking　green　eye…lights　to　me。
'You've　trained　this　one　well；　Eisenhorn。'
I—
'He　has；　magos；'　said　Medea　quickly。　'But　that　response　I　learned　from　study　of　the　Divine　Primer。'
'You've　read　the　Primer？'　Bure　asked。
'It　was　basic　study　in　air　school　on　my　home　world；'　she　replied。
'Medea　has　a…　considerable　aptitude　for　machines；'　Aemos　said。　'She　is　our　pilot。'
'Indeed…'　Bure　walked　around　her　and　uninhibitedly　caressed　her　body　with　his　metal　fingers。　Medea　temporarily　humoured　him。
'She　is　machine…wise；　yet　she　has　no　augmentation？'　Bure　questioned　me。