The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第5部分

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Then；　just　eight　years　ago；　our　paths　had　crossed　again　on　Kuuma。
Tantalid's　fanatical　hatred　…　indeed；　I　would　venture；　fear　…　of　the　psyker　was　by　then　insurmountable。　I　made　no　secret　of　the　fact　that　I
employed　psychic　methods　in　the　pursuit　of　my　work。　There　were　psychic　adepts　in　my　staff；　and　I　myself　had　worked　to　develop　my
own　psychic　abilities　over　the　years。　Such　is　my　right；　as　an　authorised　bearer　of　the　Inquisition's　seal。
In　my　eyes；　he　was　a　blinkered　zealot　with　psychotic　streak。　In　his；　I　was　the　spawn　of　witches　and　a　heretic。
No　courtroom　argument　for　us　on　Kuuma。　A　little　war　instead。　It　lasted　an　afternoon；　and　raged　through　the　tiered　streets　of　the　oasis
town　at　Unat　Akim。

Twenty…eight　latent　psykers；　none　older　than　fourteen；　had　been　rooted　out　of　the　population　of　Kuuma's　sprawling　capital　city　during
a　purge；　and　sequestered　prior　to　their　collection　by　the　Black　Ships。　They　were　recruits；　a　precious　resource；　untainted　and　ready　to　be
shaped　by　the　Adeptus　Astropathicus　into　worthy　servants　of　the　God…Emperor。　Some　of　them；　perhaps；　would　have　the　ultimate
honour　of　joining　the　choir　of　the　Astronomican。　They　were　frightened　and　confused；　but　this　was　their　salvation。
Better　to　be　found　early　and　turned　to　good　service　than　to　remain　undetected　and　become　tainted；　corrupt　and　a　threat　to　our　entire
society。
But　before　the　Black　Ships　could　arrive　to　take　them；　they　were　spirited　away　by　renegade　slavers　working　in　collusion　with　corrupt
officials　in　the　local　Administratum。　Vast　sums　could　be　made　on　the　black　market　for　unregistered；　virgin　psychic　slaves。
I　followed　the　slavers'　trail　across　the　seif　dunes　to　Unat　Akim　with　the　intention　of　liberating　the　youngsters。　Tantalid　made　his　way
there　to　exterminate　them　all　as　witches。
By　the　end　of　the　fight；　I　had　driven　the　witchfinder　and　his　cohorts；　mostly　foot　soldiers　of　the　Frateris　Militia；　out　of　the　oasis　town。
Two　of　the　young　psykers　had　been　killed　in　the　crossfire；　but　the　others　were　safely　transferred　into　the　hands　of　the　Astropathicus。
Tantalid；　fleeing　Kuuma　to　lick　his　wounds；　had　tried　to　have　me　declared　heretic；　but　the　charges　were　swiftly　overturned。　The
Ministorum　had；　at　that　time；　no　wish　to　court　conflict　with　their　allies　in　the　Inquisition。
I　had　expected；　known　even；　that　Tantalid　would　return　sometime　to　plague　me。　It　was　a　personal　matter　now；　one　which　his　fanatical
disposition　would　fix　upon　and　transform　into　a　holy　calling。
But　the　last　I　had　heard；　he　had　been　leading　an　ecclesiarchy　mission　into　the　Ophidian　subsector　in　support　of　the　century…long　Purge
Campaign　there。
I　wondered　what　had　brought　him　to　Lethe　Eleven　at　so　inopportune　a　moment。
BY　THE　TIME　I　was　back　on　my　feet；　two　weeks　later；　the　Darknight　was　over　and　I　knew　the　answer；　in　general　if　not　specific　terms。
I　was　hobbling　around　on　a　cane　in　the　private　mansion　I　had　rented　in　Lethe　Majeure　when　Aemos　brought　me　the　news。　The　great
Ophidian　Campaign　was　over。
'Great　success；'　he　announced。　'The　last　action　took　place　at　Dolsene　four　months　ago；　and　the　Warmaster　has　declared　the　subsector
cleansed。　A　famous　victory；　don't　you　think？'
'Yes。　I　should　hope　so。　It's　taken　them　long　enough。'
'Gregor；　Gregor…　even　with　a　force　as　large　as　the　hallowed　Battlefleet　Scarus；　the　subjugation　of　a　subsector　is　an　immense　task！
That　it　took　the　best　part　of　a　century　is　nothing！　The　pacification　of　the　Extempus　subsector　took　four　hundred　y—'
He　paused。
'You're　toying　with　me；　aren't　you？'
I　nodded。　He　was　very　easy　to　wind　up。
Aemos　shook　his　head　and　eased　his　ancient　body　down　into　one　of　the　leather　chairs。
'Martial　law　still　dominates；　I　understand；　and　caretaker　governments　have　been　established　on　the　key　worlds。　But　the　Warmaster
himself　is　returning　with　the　bulk　of　the　fleet　in　triumph；　setting　foot　in　this　subsector　again　for　the　first　time　in　a　hundred　years。'
I　stood　by　the　open　windows；　looking　out　from　the　mansion's　first　floor　across　the　grey　roofs　of　Lethe　Majeure　which　seemed　to　coat
the　hills　of　the　Tito　Basin　like　the　scaled　hide　of　some　prehistoric　reptile。　The　sky　was　a　magnolia　haze；　and　a　light　breeze　breathed。　It
was　almost　impossible　now　to　picture　this　place　beset　by　the　filthy；　permanent　shadows　of　the　Darknight。
Now；　perhaps；　I　knew　why　Tantalid　had　returned。　The　Ophidian　war　was　over；　and　his　holy　mission　concluded　with　it。
'I　remember　them　setting　out；　don't　you？'　I　asked。
A　foolish　question。　My　savant　was　a　data…addict；　driven　since　the　age　of　forty…two　standard　to　collect　and　retain　all　manner　of
information　thanks　to　a　meme…virus　he　had　contracted。　There　was　no　possibility　of　him　forgetting　anything。　He　scratched　the　side　of
his　hooked　nose　where　his　heavy　augmetic　eye…pieces　touched。
'How　could　either　of　us　forget　that？'　he　replied。　'The　summer　of　240。　Hunting　the　Glaw　clan　on　Gudrun　during　the　very　Founding
itself。'
Indeed；　we　had　played　a　particular　role　in　delaying　the　start　of　the　Ophidian　Campaign。　The　Warmaster；　or　lord　militant　as　he　had　been
back　then；　had　been　all　but　set　to　launch　his　purge　into　Ophidian　space　when　my　investigation　of　the　heretic　Glaw　family　had　triggered
a　mass　uprising　later　known　as　the　Helican　Schism。　To　his　great　surprise　and　displeasure；　the　Warmaster　had　been　abruptly　forced　to
redirect　his　readied　forces　in　a　pacification　of　his　very　own　subsector。
Warmaster　Honorius。　Honorius　Magnus　they　were　calling　him。　I　had　never　met　him；　nor　had　I　much　wish　to。　A　brutal　man；　as　are　so
many　of　his　kind。　It　takes　a　special　mindset；　a　special　brutality；　to　crush　planets　and　populations。
'There　is　to　be　a　great　Jubilation　on　Thracian　Primaris；'　Aemos　said。　'A　Holy　Novena　congregated　by　the　Synod　the　High　Ecclesiarchy。
It　is　rumoured　that　the　Imperial　Lord　Commander　Helican　himself　will　attend；　specifically　to　bestow　upon　the　Warmaster　the　rank　of
Feudal　Protector。'
'I'm　sure　he'll　be　very　pleased。　Another　heavy　medallion　to　throw　at　his　officers　when　he's　annoyed。'
'You're　not　tempted　to　attend？'
I　laughed。　In　truth；　I　had　thought　to　return　to　the　Helican　subsector　capital　before　long。　Thracian　Primaris；　the　most　massive；
industrialised　and　populated　world　in　the　subsector；　had　wrested　capital　planet　status　from　ancient　Gudrun　after　the　disgrace　and
foment　of　the　Schism；　finally　achieving　the　preeminence　it　felt　its　size　and　power　had　long　deserved。　It　was　now　the　chief　Imperial
planet　of　this　region。

There　was　work　to　be　done；　reports　to　be　filed　and　presented；　and　those　things　could　best　be　achieved　by　returning　to　my　property　on
Thracian；　my　base　of　operations；　near　to　the　Palace　of　the　Inquisition。　But　I　had　little　love　for　Thracian　Primaris。　It　was　an　ugly　place；
and　I　only　made　my　headquarters　there　out　of　convenience。　The　thought　of　pomp　and　ceremony　and　festivals　filled　me　with　quiet
dread。
Perhaps　I　would　go　to　Messina　instead；　or　to　the　quiet　of　Gudrun；　where　I　maintained　a　small；　comfortable　estate。
'The　Inquisition　is　to　attend　in　great　strength。　Lord　Rorken　himself…'
I　waved　a　hand　in　Aemos's　direction。　'Does　it　appeal　to　you？'
'No。'
'Are　there　not　better　uses　for　our　time？　Pressing　matters？　Things　that　would　be　more　easily　achieved　away　from　such　overblown
distractions？'
'Most　certainly；'　he　said。
'Then　I　think　you　know　my　mind。'
'I　think　I　do；　Gregor；'　he　said；　rising　to　his　feet　and　reaching　into　the　pocket　of　his　green　robe。　'And　therefore　I'm　fully　prepared　for　the
fact　that　you're　going　to　curse　me　when　I　give　you　this。'
He　held　out　a　small　data…slate；　an　encrypted　message…tile　whose　contents　had　been　received　and　stored　by　the　astropaths。
The　official　seal　of　the　Inquisition　was　stamped　across　its　front。
THREE
CAPITAL　WORLD。
THE　OCEAN　HOUSE。
INTRUDERS；　PAST　AND　PRESENT。
THRACIAN　PRIMARIS；　CAPITAL　world　of　the　Helican　subsector；　seat　of　government；　Helican　subsector；　Scams　sector；　Segmentum
Obscurus。　You　can　read　that　description　in　any　one　of　a　hundred　thousand　guidebooks；　geographies；　Imperial　histories；　pilgrimage
primers；　industrial　ledgers；　trade　directories；　star　maps。　It　sounds　impressive；　authoritarian；　powerful。
It　does　no　justice　at　all　to　the　monster　it　describes。
I　have　known　hellholes　and　death…planets　that　from　space　look　serene　and　wondrous：　the　watercolours　of　their　atmospheres；　the
glittering　moons　and　belts　they　wear　like　bangles　and　jewels；　the　natural　wonders　that　belie　the　dangers　they　contain。
Thracian　Primaris　is　no　such　dissembler。　From　space；　it　glowers　like　an　oozing；　cataracted　eye。　It　is　corpulent；　swollen；　sheened　in
grey　veils　of　atmospheric　soot　through　which　the　billion　billion　lights　of　the　city　hives　glimmer　like　rotting　stars。　It　glares　balefully　at
all　ships　that　approach。
And；　oh！　But　they　approach！　Shoals　of　ships；　flocks　of　them；　countless　craft；　drawn　to　this　bloated　cesspit　by　the　lure　of　its　vast
industrial　wealth　and　mercantile　vigour。
It　has　no　moons；　no　natural　moons　anyway。　Five　Ramilies…class　star…forts　hang　above　its　atmosphere；　their　crenellated　towers　and
buttressed　gun…stations　guarding　the　approaches　to　and　from　the　capital　world。　A　dedicated　guild　of　forty　thousand　skilled　pilots　exists
simply　to　guide　traffic　in　and　out　of　the　jostling；　cr