The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第47部分

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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。
Medea　stripped　off　her　gloves　and　showed　him　the　intricate　circuits　inlaid　into　her　hands。
'I　beg　to　differ；　magos。'
He　took　her　hands　in　his　and　gazed　in　hungry　wonder。　Drool…like　ropes　of　clear　lubricant　oil　trickled　out　between　his　chrome　teeth　like
spittle。
'A　Glavian！　Your　enhancements　are…　so…　beautiful…'
'Thank　you；　sir。'
'You've　never　thought　to　permit　any　other　augmentation？　Limbs？　Organs？　It　is　quite　liberating。'
'I…　get　by　with　what　I've　got；'　smiled　Medea。
'I'm　sure　you　do；'　Bure　said；　suddenly　swinging　round　to　face　me。　'Welcome　to　my　translithopede；　Eisenhorn。　You　too；　Aemos；　my　old
friend。　I　must　admit　I　can't　conceive　what　brought　you　here。　Is　it　the　Lith？　Has　the　Inquisition　sent　you　to　deal　with　the　Lith？'
News　of　my　disgrace　clearly　hadn't　reached　him；　and　for　that；　I　was　thankful。
'No；　magos；'　I　said。　'A　stranger　quirk　has　brought　us　here。'
'Has　it？　How　odd。　When　I　first　detected　your　signal　…　in　dear　Hapshant's　old　private　code　…　I　couldn't　believe　it。　I　nearly　shot　you
down。'
'I　took　a　chance；'　I　said。
'Well；　that　chance　has　led　you　to　me　and　I'm　glad。　Come；　this　way。'
His　skeletal　silver　hands　ushered　us　towards　the　door　lock。
Bure　had　no　lower　limbs。　He　floated　on　anti…gravity　suspensors；　the　hem　of　his　orange　robe　hanging　a　few　centimetres　above　the
plated　deck。　We　fell　in　step　behind　him　and　walked　the　length　of　a　long；　oval　companion…way　lined　with　brass　bulkheads　and　more　gas
filament　lamps。
'This　burrowing　machine　is　a　wonder；'　Aemos　said。
'All　machines　are　wonders；'　Bure　replied。　'This　is　a　necessity；　the　primary　tool　of　my　work　here　on　Cinchare。　There　were；　of　course；　a
number　of　lesser　prototypes　before　I　made　the　necessary　refinements。　This　translithopede　was　engineered　from　my　designs　by　the
Adeptus　fabricatory　on　Rysa　and　shipped　here　for　my　use　three　standard　years　ago。　With　it；　I　can　go　where　I　please　in　this　rock；　and
unlock　the　secret　lore　of　Cinchare's　metals。'

Magos　Bure　had　been　a　metallurgy　specialist　for　two　hundred　years；　his　knowledge　and　discoveries　almost　worshipped　by　his　brethren
in　the　tech…priesthood。　Before　that；　he　had　been　a　fabricator…architect　in　the　titan　forges　of　Triplex　Phall。　To　my　certain　knowledge；　he
was　almost　seven　hundred　years　old。　Hapshant　had　occasionally　hinted　that　Bure　was　far　older　than　that。
Not　a　shred　of　the　magos's　flesh　remained。　The　vestigial　organic　parts　of　Geard　Bure　the　human　being　…　his　brain　and　neural　systems　…
were　sealed　inside　his　gleaming　mechanoid　body。　I　had　never　learned　if　this　was　a　matter　of　design　or　necessity。　Perhaps；　as　is　the　case
with　so　many；　disease　or　grievous　injury　had　forced　such　extreme　augmentation　upon　him。　Or　perhaps；　like　Tobias　Maxilla；　he　had
deliberately　discarded　the　weakness　of　flesh　in　favour　of　machine　perfection。　Knowing　the　technophiliac　disposition　of　the
Mechanicus　priesthood；　the　latter　seemed　more　likely　to　me。

My　late　mentor；　Inquisitor　Hapshant；　had　encountered　Magos　Bure　in　the　early　part　of　his　career；　during　the　celebrated　mission　to
secure　the　STC　Lectionary　from　the　ashrams　of　Ullidor　the　Techsmith。　As　I　have　remarked；　the　Inquisition　…　indeed　most　august
bodies　of　the　Imperium　…　find　dealings　with　the　Cult　Mechanicus　problematic　at　best。　Its　power　is　legendary　and　its　insularity
notorious。　The　cult　is　a　closed　order　which　guards　the　secrets　of　its　technologies　jealously。　But　Bure　and　Hapshant　developed　a
beneficial　working　relationship　based　on　mutual　esteem。　On　several　occasions；　Bure's　specialist　wisdom　assisted　my　mentor　in　the
prosecution　of　important　cases；　and　on　several　others；　the　favour　was　returned。

That　is　why；　a　century　before；　I　entrusted　an　item　of　particular　importance　to　his　expert　custody。
THE　CONTROL　CHAMBER　of　the　wheezing　translithopede　was　a　split…level　chapel　where　a　raised　command　podium；　like　a　giant　brass
pulpit；　overlooked　two　semi…circular　rows　of　busy　control　stations。　The　rivetted　iron　walls　were　painted　matt　red　and　etched　with　the
various　aspects　and　runes　of　the　Machine　God。　The　forward　wall　was　shrouded　in　long　drapes　of　red　velvet。

Six　oil…streaked　servitors　worked　at　the　chattering　control　stations；　their　hands　and　faces　plugged　directly　into　the　systems　via　thick；
metal…sleeved　cables　or　striped　flexes　marked　with　purity　seals　and　parchment　labels。　Glass　valves　and　dials　flickered　and　glowed；　and
the　air　was　heady　with　the　scent　of　oils　and　sacred　unguents。
Two　relatively　human　tech…adepts　in　orange　robes　were　overseeing　the　activity。　One　was　linked　directly　into　the　vehicle's　mindimpulse
unit　through　a　trio　of　neural　plugs；　and　he　murmured　aloud　the　rites　and　scriptures　of　the　Adeptus。　The　other　turned　and
bowed　as　we　came　onto　the　podium。
He　had　a　wire…mesh　speaker　where　his　mouth　should　have　been。　When　he　spoke；　it　was　in　a　pulse　of　binary　machine　code。
Bure　responded　in　kind；　and　for　a　few　moments　they　exchanged　tight　bursts　of　condensed　data。　Then　Bure　floated　over　to　a　brass
lectern　built　into　the　podium's　rail　and　opened　his　robe。　Two　probing　neural　cables　extended　from　his　chrome　ste