The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第42部分

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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；　i