The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第31部分

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carrying　the　Deacon　of　Arnush；　visiting　Cadia　for　a　promulgation　seminar；　had　been　shot　down　over　the　Sea　of　Kansk　six　months
earlier；　simply　because　it　failed　to　give　the　correct　codes。　It　made　me　wonder　how　our　unknown　foe　had　got　his　minions　on　and　off
Cadia。
Unless；　like　us；　he　had　an　identity　and　a　rank　that　easily　turned　aside　routine　security　checks。
WE　WERE　DIVERTED　sixty　kilometres　west　of　Kasr　Derth　because　a　war　was　going　on。　The　dawn　light　was　filled　with　the　flashes　and
light　streaks　of　a　mass　rocket　attack。
Eight　regiments　of　Cadian　Shock；　just　a　few　days　away　from　shipping　out　to　a　tour　of　duty　on　one　of　the　inner　fortress　worlds　of　the
Cadian　Gate；　were　staging　a　live　firing　exercise。
We　finally　set　down　on　the　minster's　launch　pad　over　an　hour　late。　The　war…bells　in　every　tower　and　shatrovy　in　the　Kasr　were　ringing
to　signal　that　the　roar　of　battle　from　the　nearby　plains　and　moors　was　just　a　practice。
We　divided　our　efforts。　Fischig　took　Aemos　to　the　Minster's　archivum　to　study　the　records　we　had　ordered　copied　the　night　before　and
do　further　research。　Bequin；　escorted　by　Husmaan；　went　to　search　the　stacks　of　the　Ecclesiarchy's　records　in　the　apostolaeum。　Inshabel
and　Nayl　visited　the　Administratum's　catalogue　of　records。
I　went　with　Medea　to　the　Ministry　of　Interior　Defence。
THERE　ARE　NO　arbites　on　Cadia。　A　permanent　state　of　martial　law　governs　the　world；　and　as　a　result；　all　civil　policing　duties　are
overseen　by　the　Interior　Guard；　a　sub…office　of　the　Cadian　Imperial　Guard　itself。　In　Kasr　Derth；　the　region's　administrative　capital；
their　headquarters　is　the　Ministry　of　Interior　Defence；　a　grey…stone　donjon　adjoining　the　fortress　of　the　martial　governor；　right　at　the
heart　of　Kasr　Derth。
Members　of　the　Interior　Guard　are　chosen　at　random。　Worldwide；　one　in　every　ten　soldiers　recruited　into　the　Cadian　forces　is
transferred　into　the　Interior　force　at　the　end　of　basic　and　preparatory；　whatever　their　achievements　and　promise。　As　a　result；　some　of
the　most　able　troopers　ever　raised　on　this　planet　of　warriors　serve　out　their　time　on　the　home　world　itself；　and　Cadia　boasts　one　of　the
most　effective　and　skilled　planetary　defence　forces　of　any　Imperial　world。
We　were　seen　by　a　Colonel　Ibbet；　a　powerful；　lean　man　in　his　forties　who　looked　like　he　should　have　been　leading　the　charge　into　the
Eye　of　Terror：　He　was　courteous；　but　mistrustful。
'We　have　no　files　on　illegal　or　suspect　immigration。'
'Why　is　that；　colonel？'
'Because　it　doesn't　happen。　The　system　does　not　permit　it。'
'Surely　there　are　unfortunate　exceptions？'
Ibbet；　his　grey　and　white　camoed　uniformed　starched　and　pressed　so　sharply　you　could　have　cut　yourself　on　the　creases；　steepled　his
fingers。
'All　right；　then；'　I　said；　changing　tack。　'What　if　someone　wanted　to　get　onto　the　planet　anonymously？　How　could　that　be　managed？'
'It　couldn't；'　he　said。　He　wasn't　giving　at　all。　'Every　identity　and　visit…purpose　is　logged　and　filed　and　any　infractions　quickly　dealt
with。'
'Then　I'll　start　with　the　files　annotating　those　infractions。'

RESIGNEDLY；　IBBET　SHOWED　us　into　a　codifier　room　and　assigned　us　a　military　clerk　to　take　us　through　the　records。　We　sorted　and
checked　for　about　three　hours；　slowly　becoming　bored　with　the　interminable　lists　of　orbital　boardings；　air…space　interceptions　and
ground…based　raids。　I　could　tell　that　a　thorough　review　of　these　records　alone　was　going　to　take　weeks。
SO　THAT'S　WHAT　we　did。　We　spent　ten　and　a　half　weeks　scouring　the　archives　and　catalogues　of　Kasr　Derth；　working　in　shifts　and
living　out　of　the　quarters　on　the　gun…cutter。　Every　few　days；　we　returned　to　the　Essene　for　a　little　rest　and　reflection。　It　was　the　dead　of
winter　by　the　time　we　were　finished。
FOURTEEN
WINTER　BRINGS　A　CHANCE。
THE　DAMNED　HAS　A　NAME。
THE　PYLON　AT　KASR　GESH。
WINTERTIDE　ON　CADIA。
There　had　been　glinting　ice…floes　in　the　gun…metal　waters　of　the　Caducades　that　morning；　and　light　snow　had　fallen　on　the　moors。　At
that　time　of　year；　the　foul　corona　of　the　Eye　of　Terror　was　visible　even　during　the　fleeting　hours　of　daylight。　The　unholy　mauve
radiance　of　the　nights　became　a　violet　fuzz　in　the　cold　daylight；　like　a　badly…blotted　ink　stain　on　white　paper。
It　made　us　feel　like　we　were　under　surveillance　all　the　time。　The　Eye；　bloodshot；　angry；　peering　down　at　us。
Worst　of　all　were　the　moor　winds；　cold　and　sharp　as　a　Cadian's　bayonet；　blowing　down　from　arctic　latitudes。　The　high　lakes　were　all
frozen　now；　and　lethal　pogonip　fogs　haunted　the　bitter　heaths　and　uplands。　In　the　Kasr　itself；　it　seemed　like　the　locals　had　a　morbid
fear　of　heaters　or　window　insulation。
Chilly　gales　breathed　down　the　hallways　of　the　minster　and　the　Admin…istratum　building。　Water　froze　in　the　pipes。
Despite　it　all；　the　war…bells　sounded　every　few　days；　and　the　moors　rolled　with　the　sounds　of　winter　manoeuvres。　I　began　to　imagine
that　the　Cadians　were　simply　shooting　at　each　other　to　keep　warm。
Ten　and　a　half　long；　increasingly　cold　weeks　after　we　had　begun　our　systematic　search　of　the　Kasr's　records；　I　was　making　my　now
habitual　morning　walk　from　the　minster　of　the　Inquisition　to　the　headquarters　of　the　Interior　Guard。　I　wore　a　thick　fur　coat　against　the
cold；　and　spike…soled　boots　to　combat　the　sheet　ice　on　the　roads。　I　was　miserable。　The　search　had　left　us　all　pale　and　edgy；　too　many
fruitless　hours　spent　in　dark　rooms。
There　had　been　so　many　promising　leads。　Links　and　traces　of　the　Sons　of　Bael；　unauthorised　starship　traffic；　suspicious　excise　logs。
They　had　all　dwindled　away　into　nothing。　As　far　as　we　could　make　out；　no　living　member　of　the　Sons　of　Bael；　or　any　living　associate
or　family　member；　remained。　There　had　been　no　pylon…related　cult　activity；　not　even　registered　xeno…archaeological　work。　I　had
interviewed　specialist　professors　at　the　universitary；　and　certain　tech…priests　from　the　Mechanicus　who　were　shown　in　the　records　as
having　expert　knowledge　of　the　pylons。
Nothing。
With　Inshabel；　Nayl　or　Fischig；　I　had　travelled　the　region；　as　far　afield　as　Kasr　Tyrok　and　Kasr　Bellan。　A　worker　in　the　gunshops　of
Kasr　Bellan；　who　had　been　identified　as　a　Bael　cult　member；　turned　out　to　simply　have　the　same　name；　misfiled。　A　wasted　ten　hour
round　trip　by　speeder。
Aemos　had　constructed　a　codifier　model　by　which　we　checked　record　anomalies　against　the　timetable　of　past　cult　activity。
There　seemed　to　be　no　correlation　at　all。
I　WALKED　UP　the　steps　of　the　Ministry　of　Interior　Defence；　and　submitted　myself　to　the　clearance　check　in　the　postern　guardhouse。　It
should　have　been　a　formality。　I　had　been　arriving　at　the　same　time　almost　every　day　for　the　last　seventy…five。　I　even　recognised　some
of　the　guardsmen　by　sight。
But　still；　it　was　like　the　first　time　I　had　ever　been　there。　Papers　were　not　only　stamped；　but　read　thoroughly　and　ran　through　an　anticounterfeit
auspex。　My　rosette　was　scrutinised　and　tagged。　The　duty　officer　voxed　my　details　through　to　the　main　building　to　get
authorisation。
'Doesn't　this　ever　bore　you？'　I　asked　one　of　the　desk　officers　as　I　waited；　folding　my　papers　back　into　my　leather　wallet。
'Doesn't　what　bore　me；　sir？'　he　asked。
I　HADN'T　SEEN　Ibbet　since　the　first　week。　I'd　been　rotated　between　a　number　of　supervisors。　One　told　me　it　was　because　of　shift
changes；　but　I　knew　it　was　because　none　of　them　liked　to　deal　with　an　inquisitor。　Especially　a　persistent　one。
That　morning；　it　was　Major　Revll　who　escorted　me　in。　Revll；　a　surly　young　man；　was　new　to　me。
'How　can　I　assist　you；　sir？'　he　asked　curtly。
I　sighed。
Open　log　books　and　data…slates　were　piled　around　the　workstation　where　I　had　abandoned　them　the　night　before。　Revll　was　already
calling　for　a　clerk　to　tidy　them　away　and　make　space　for　me　before　I　could　explain　that　I'd　made　the　mess　in　the　first　place。

He　looked　at　me　warily。　'You've　been　here　before？'　I　sighed　again。
I　HAD　TWO　HOURS。　At　eleven；　I　was　due　to　meet　Inshabel　and　Bequin　and　fly　out　to　a　village　on　one　of　the　islands　in　the　Caducades　to
investigate　a　rumour　that　a　man　there　knew　something　about　smuggling。　Another　waste　of　time；　I　was　sure。
I　started　in　on　the　air…traffic　day…book；　reading　through　the　lists　of　orbital　transfers　for　a　summer　day　two　years　earlier。　Halfway　down
the　slate　was　an　entry　showing　a　shuttle　transfer　from　an　orbiting　ship　to　a　landing　field　near　Kasr　Gesh。　Gesh　was　near　to　one　of　the
pylons　frequented　by　the　Sons　of　Bael。　Moreover；　on　checking；　I　realised　the　date　put　it　three　days　before　the　last　incident　of　cult
activity　at　the　pylon。
I　stoked　up　the　data…engine；　and　requested　further　information　on　the　entry。　I　was　immediately　denied。　I　used　a　higher　decrypt　key；　and
was　shown　a　report　that　withheld　both　the　name　of　the　ship　and　the　source　of　its　authority。　I　began　to　get　excited；　and　scrolled　down。
Even　the　purpose　of　the　visit　was　restricted。
Now　I　typed　in　the　teeth　of　my　highest　decrypt　key。　The　terminal　throbbed　and　chattered；　sorting　through　files　and　authorisations。
The　name　came　up。　My　elation　peaked；　and　plunged　away。
Neve。　The　mysterious　entry　had　been　a　record　of　a　classified　mission　by　the　inquisitor　general。　Back　to　square　one。
THE　ISLAND　WAS　cold　and　bare。　A　small　fishing　community　clung　to　the　rim　of　the　western　bay。　Inshabel　swung