The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第26部分

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see　Medea　grinning　in　the　cockpit。
I　daren't　lift　my　hands　from　the　jarring　stick　to　activate　the　vox。
Instead；　I　opened　my　mind　directly　to　hers。
Only　if　you　have　to。　Try　and　get　them　to　land。
'Ow！'　answered　the　vox。　'Warn　me　next　time　you're　gonna　do　that。'

The　great　bulk　of　the　cutter　suddenly　surged　forward；　afterburners　incandescent　and　landing　gear　raising；　and　banked　away　to　the
right。　Its　thrust　wake　wobbled　me　hard。　I　watched　it　turn　out　in　a　wide　semi…circle；　low　over　the　crops；　furrowing　them　with　its
downwash。　It　looked　like　a　vast　bird　of　prey　swooping　round　for　the　kill。
With　its　interplanetary　thrust…tunnels；　it　easily　outstripped　the　racing　speeders；　and　came　in　towards　them；　head　on。
I　felt　a　surge　of　psychic…power。　My　enemies　had　nothing　but　their　minds　with　which　to　combat　the　gun…cutter。
The　cutter　suddenly　broke　left；　dipped　and　then　righted　itself。　They'd　got　to　Medea；　if　only　for　a　moment。
She　was　angry　now。　I　could　tell　that　simply　from　the　way　she　flew。　With　a　wail　of　braking　jets；　she　turned　the　cutter　on　a　stall…hover　as
the　speeders　flashed　past。
The　chin…turret　crackled；　and　heavy…gauge　munitions　tore　the　second　of　the　two　speeders　into　a　shower　of　flames　in　the　air。
Hitting　the　throttle；　I　zipped　in　behind　the　hovering　gun…cutter；　chasing　down　the　other　speeder。
No　more！　I　sent　to　Medea。　I　want　them　alive　if　possible！
The　remaining　speeder　was　close　ahead　now。　I　could　feel　Lyko's　mind　aboard　it。
He　was　closing　on　the　armoured　bulk　of　the　harvester；　which　now　dominated　the　landscape　ahead。　It　was　a　giant；　six　hundred　metres
long　and　ninety　high　at　the　peak　of　its　humped；　beetle…back。　It　was　kicking　a　vast　wake　of　sap…spray　and　smoke　out　behind　it。　The
rattle　of　its　threshing　blades　was　audible　above　the　scream　of　my　speeder's　engines。
My　quarry　dipped；　and　flew　in　along　the　spine　of　the　huge　factory　machine；　heading　for　a　rear…facing　docking　hangar　raised　like　a　wart
on　the　hull's　back。　Warning　hails　were　beeping　at　me　over　the　speeder's　vox…set；　the　alarmed　challenges　of　the　harvester。
The　heavy　speeder　braked　hard　and　landed　badly　in　the　mouth　of　the　docking　hangar。　Turning　in　to　follow　it；　I　saw　figures　scrambling
out。　They　disappeared；　into　the　hangar；　all　except　one　man；　who　dropped　to　his　knees　on　the　approach　slip　and　began　firing　back　at　me
with　his　autocan…non。
Streams　of　high…velocity　rounds　whipped　past　on　either　side。　Then　a　bunch　of　them　went　into　my　port　intake　with　a　clattering　roar　that
shook　the　speeder　and　threw　shards　of　casing　out　in　a　belch　of　sparks。
Warning　lights　lit　up　across　the　control　board。
I　dropped　ten　metres；　put　the　nose　in。
And　bailed。
I　BROKE　MY　left　wrist　and　four　ribs　hitting　the　topside　of　the　harvester。　With　hindsight；　I　was　lucky　not　to　have　been　killed　outright；
lucky　even　to　have　hit　the　harvester's　hull　at　all。　It　was　a　long　way　down。　I　managed　to　grab　a　stanchion　cable　as　I　began　to　slither
down；　and　wrapped　my　right　arm　around　it。
My　speeder　glanced　once　off　the　approach　slip；　and　bounced　up　again；　tail　up；　beginning　to　tear　apart。　Trailing　debris；　the　machine
cartwheeled　in；　vapourised　the　gunman；　hit　Lyko's　parked　land　speeder；　and　shunted　it　right　into　the　hangar；　which　exploded　a　second
later　in　a　sheet　of　fire　and　metal。
I　limped　along　the　approach　slip；　sidestepping　chunks　of　burning　wreckage；　and　climbed　over　the　smashed；　smouldering　speeders　into
the　hangar。　Impact　klaxons　were　rasping　out；　and　automatic　fire…fighting　sprays　were　still　squirting　out　dribbles　of　retardant　foam。
At　the　back　of　the　hangar；　a　hatch　was　half　open；　next　to　the　cages　of　the　service　and　cargo　elevators。
I　pushed　through　the　hatch。　A　metal　staircase　descended　into　the　factory。　At　the　bottom；　it　opened　out　into　a　companionway　that　ran
the　length　of　the　harvester。　Stunned　work…crews；　most　of　them　twists　in　sap…stained　overalls；　gazed　at　me。
I　produced　my　rosette。
'Imperial　Inquisition。　Where　did　they　go？'
'Who？'
'Where　did　they　go？'　I　snarled；　enforcing　my　will　without　restraint。
The　effect　was　so　powerful；　none　of　them　could　speak；　and　several　passed　out。　All　the　others　pointed　down　the　companionway
towards　the　head　of　the　factory。
Another　hatch；　another　staircase。　The　noise　of　the　internal　threshers　was　now　shudderingly　loud。　I　came　down　into　the　vast　internal
work　line；　a　long　chamber　that　ran　the　length　of　the　harvester。　It　was　a　huge；　deafening　Place；　the　air　thick　with　sap　mist。　A　massive
processing　conveyor　carried　the　harvested　produce　along　from　the　reaping　blades　at　the　harvester's　mouth；　at　a　rate　of　several　tonnes
every　second。　Twist　workers　in　masks　and　aprons　worked　the　front　part　of　the　line　with　chaintools　and　cutting　lances　which　were
attached　to　overhead　power　systems　by　thick　rubber…trunked　hoses。　They　sorted　and　cut　the　larger　sections　of　root　and　stalk　before　the
crop　went　through　the　great　vicing　rollers　and　stamping　presses　into　the　macerating　vats　further　back　down　the　factory。
With　the　alarms　sounding　and　warning　lights　flashing；　the　line　had　come　to　a　halt；　and　the　workers　were　looking　around；　liquid
cellulose　and　sap　dripping　off　their　gauntlets；　overalls　and　work　tools。
I　blundered　through　them；　overseers　shouting　at　me　from　gantry　stations　far　above。　I　could　see　Lyko；　thirty　metres　away　down　the　line；
pushing　through　with　one　last　gunman　and　a　bound；　visored　figure　that　could　only　be　Esarhaddon。
The　gunmen　turned　and　fired　at　me　down　the　length　of　the　line　vault。　Three　workers　crumpled；　one　spilling　over　onto　the　belt。　The
shots　spanged　sparks　off　the　metal　walkways　and　machinery。
As　the　other　workers　dived　for　cover；　I　dropped　to　my　knee　and　reached　for　my　boltgun。　It　wasn't　there。　In　fact；　the　entire　holster　was
ripped　open。　I　wasn't　sure　when　I　lost　it：　during　Cherubael's　assault　or　slamming　off　the　hull　of　the　harvester；　but　it　was　long　gone。
And　my　beloved　power　sword　had　been　disintegrated　on　contact　with　the　daemonhost。
More　shots　whizzed　down　the　work…line　and　dented　the　metal　facings　of　the　belt…drivers。　I　crawled　into　cover　behind　a　drum　of
hydrobac　tool…wash。

I　pulled　my　back…up　weapon　from　the　ankle…holster　built　into　the　side　of　my　boot。　It　was　a　compact；　short…frame　auto　with　a　muzzle　so
short　it　barely　extended　beyond　the　trigger　guard。　The　handgrip　was　actually　longer　than　the　barrel；　and　contained　a　slide…magazine　of
twenty　small…calibre　rounds。
Selecting　single…fire；　I　cracked　off　a　couple　of　shots。　The　aim　was　lousy　and　the　power　poor。　It　really　was　meant　to　be　a　close…range
last　ditch。
The　gunman　down　the　line；　undeterred　by　my　pathetic　display；　switched　over　to　full　auto　and　raked　the　deck　area　and　working　space
beside　the　stationary　belt。　Workers；　all　pressing　themselves　into　cover；　began　to　scream　and　yell。
The　shooting　stopped。　I　dared　a　look　out。　There　was　a　clunk　and　a　whirr　and　the　conveyor　started　moving　again。
The　gunman　was　following　his　departing　master　again。　Lyko　was　almost　out　of　sight；　pushing　his　captive　ahead　of　him。
Why　was　Esarhaddon　a　captive；　I　wondered？　I　still　didn't　understand　the　relationship　between　Lyko；　the　psyker　and　Cherubael。
I　RAN　ON。　The　gunman；　Lyko　and　his　captive　psyker　had　all　disappeared　through　a　bulkhead　door。　To　follow　them；　I'd　have　to　go　in
blind。　And　if　I'd　been　in　Lyko's　place；　I'd　have　used　the　bulkhead　as　a　point　to　turn　and　wait。
My　gut　readings　of　his　actions　had　not　been　wrong　so　far。
I　leapt　up　onto　the　wide　conveyor　belt；　ignoring　the　shouts　of　the　cowering　work　crew；　and　slithered　across　it　through　the　matted；
sticky　crop　load。　The　sap　and　the　moving　belt　made　it　nigh　on　impossible　to　stay　upright。　For　a　moment；　I　thought　I　might　slip　and　be
carried　along　under　the　nearest　roller　press。
I　leapt　off　the　far　side　onto　the　solid　deck；　dripping　with　green　mush　and　vegetal　fluid。　Now　I　was　following　the　work…line　down　the
other　side　of　the　wide　conveyor；　which　divided　the　harvester　centrally。
There　was　a　bulkhead　door　on　this　side；　too。
I　went　through　it；　low。
The　gunman　was　waiting　behind　the　other　door　on　the　far　side　of　the　moving　belt。　He　saw　me；　cursed；　and　turned　with　his　autocannon。
I　was　firing　already。　Even　at　this　shorter　range；　the　pathetic　stopping　power　of　my　auto　was　evident。　His　drum…barrelled　autocannon
was　about　to　roar　out　my　doom。
I　dived　headlong；　thumbing　my　weapon　to　auto　and　ripped　off　the　entire　clip　of　small　slugs　in　a　shrill；　high…pitched　chatter。
What　I　lacked　in　power　I　made　up　for　in　numbers。　I　hit　him　six　or　seven　times　in　the　left　arm　and　collar　and　staggered　him　backwards；
his　bonded　armour　torn　open。　The　heavy　cannon　flew　out　of　his　hands　and　landed　on　the　moving　belt　between　us　to　be　carried　out　of
view。
He　was　far　from　dead；　though　he　was　bleeding　profusely　from　the　multiple　small　calibre　grazes　and　impacts。　He　was　probably
glanding　some　stimm　that　kept　his　edge。
Snarling　a　Necromundan　oath；　he　drew　a　military…issue　las…pistol　from　his　webbing；　and　climbed　up　on　the　work…line　foot　rail　on　his
side　of　the　rolling　belt　to　get　a　better　angle　at　me。　I　threw　the　empty　gun　at　him　and　made　him　duck；　and　then　grabbed　one　of　the　hosesuspended
work　lances　hanging　by　the　line…edge。
He　got　off　a　shot　that　barely　missed　my　shoulder。　I　swung　the　lance　at　him；　the　chain…bl