The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第35章

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subterfuge。
We　learned；　indirectly；　a　few　weeks　into　the　voyage；　that　my　escape　from　Cadia　had　been　discovered。　The　Inquisition　…　and　other
agencies　…　were　hunting　me。　I　had　been　formally　declared　Heretic　and　Extremis　Diabolus。　Lord　Rorken　had　finally　counter…signed
Osma's　carta。
I　was　now　something　I　had　never　been　before。
A　fugitive。　A　renegade。　And　in　aiding　me；　my　band　of　comrades　had　made　themselves　fugitives　too。
We　had　a　few　scrapes。　Refuelling　at　Mallid；　we　were　discovered　and　pursued　by　an　unidentified　warship　which　we　lost　in　the
empyrean。　At　Avignor；　a　squadron　of　Ecclesiarchy　battle…boats；　standing　picket　watch　along　the　border　of　the　diocese；　tried　to　run　us
to　ground。　We　only　escaped　that　one　thanks　to　a　combination　of　Maxilla's　shipcraft　and　Medea's　fighting　nous。
On　Trexia　Beta；　Nayl　and　Fischig　ran　across　a　band　of　arbites　hunters　while　they　were　trying　to　hire　an　astropath。　They　never　told　me
how　many　they　had　been　forced　to　kill；　but　it　sat　badly　with　them　for　weeks。
On　Anemae　Gulfward；　Bequin　succeeded　in　obtaining　the　services　of　an　astropath；　a　sickly　female　called　Tasaera　Ungish。　When
Ungish　found　out　who　I　was；　she　begged　to　be　returned　to　her　backwater　world。　It　took　a　long　time　to　convince　her　that　she　was　in　no
danger　from　me。　I　had　to　open　my　mind　to　her　in　the　end。
At　Oet's　Star；　we　were　discovered　by　an　Inquisitor　Frontalle　during　a　resupply　layover。　As　it　was　with　Riggre　and　the　Cadian　pilots；　I
will　always　be　haunted　by　those　necessary　deaths。　I　tried　to　reason　with　Frontalle。　I　tried　very　hard。　A　young　man；　he　believed　that
taking　me　down　was　the　key　to　a　famous　career。　Eisenhorn　the　Heretic；　he　kept　calling　me。　They　were　the　last　words　on　his　lips　when
I　pitched　him　into　the　geothermal　heating　exchanger。
From　Trexia　Beta　onwards；　there　was　an　almost　permanent　rumour　that　a　kill…team　of　the　Ordo　Malleus's　Grey　Knights　was　hunting
us。　And　the　Ordo　Xenos's　Deathwatch　Chapter　too。
I　prayed　to　my　God…Emperor　that　I　could　complete　this　task　before　the　forces　of　righteousness　overtook　me。　And　I　prayed　to　him　that
my　friends　might　be　spared。
BETWEEN　THOSE　ESCAPADES；　there　were　only　the　long；　slow　weeks　of　transit　in　the　deep　warp。　I　filled　my　time　with　study；　and　with
weapons　practice　with　Nayl；　Fischig　or　Medea。　I　battled　to　get　myself　healthy　again。　The　Carnificina　had　wasted　me；　both　in　body　and
spirit。　The　weight　I　had　lost　would　simply　not　go　back　on；　despite　Maxilla's　generous　banquets。
And　I　felt　slow。　Slow　with　a　blade；　slow　on　my　feet。　Slow　and　clumsy　with　a　gun。
Even　my　mind　was　slow。　I　began　to　fear　that　Osma　had　broken　me。
Tasaera　Ungish　was　a　semi…paralysed　woman　in　her　fifties。　The　arduous　rituals　of　the　warp　had　left　her　broken　and　all　but　burned　out；
consigned　to　a　life　as　a　junior　telepath　in　the　class…chambers　of　Ane…mae　Gulfward。　Her　raddled　body　was　supported　by　an　augmetic
exo…skeleton。　I　believe　she　might　have　been　beautiful　once；　but　her　face　was　now　hollow　and　her　hair　thin　where　the　implant　plugs　of
her　calling　had　been　sited。
'That　time　again；　heretic？'　she　asked　as　I　walked　into　her　quarters。　This　was　about　the　twentieth　week　of　the　voyage。
'I　wish　you　wouldn't　call　me　that；'　I　said。
'Coping　strategy；'　she　purred。　'Your　e　out　of　a　safe　life　on　Anemae　Gulfward；　and　made　me　party　to　a
heretic's　private　crusade。'
'A　safe　life；　Ungish？　A　bad　end。　You'd　have　been　dead　in　another　six　months；　the　strain　of　the　traffic　they　were　making　you　process。'
She　tutted；　her　augmetic　chassis　whirring　as　she　poured　us　two　glasses　of　amasec。　Hers　was　laced　with　fitobarrier　enhancers；　and　her
room　stank　of　lho…leaf。　I　knew　the　rigours　of　her　life　had　left　her　in　constant　pain；　and　she　fought　that　pain　off　with　everything　she
could　lay　her　hands　on。
'Dead　and　buried　on　Anemae　Gulfward　in　six…　or　dead　in　agony　in　your　service。'
'It's　not　like　that；'　I　said；　nodding　as　I　took　the　glass　she　proffered。
'Is　it　not？'
'No。　I've　let　you　see　my　mind。　You　know　the　purity　of　my　cause。'
She　frowned。　'Maybe。'　She　was　having　difficulty　manipulating　her　own　glass。　The　mechadendrites　that　governed　her　right　hand　were
old　and　slow。
She　waved　me　off　when　I　tried　to　help。
'Maybe？'　I　asked。
She　took　a　big　swig　of　her　drink　and　then　poked　a　lho…stick　between　her　crinkled　lips。
'I've　seen　your　mind；　heretic。　You're　not　as　clean　as　you　like　to　think　you　are。'
I　sat　down　on　the　chaise。　'Am　I　not？'

She　lit　the　lho…stick　and　exhaled　a　deep　lungful　of　its　narcotic　smoke　with　a　sigh。
'Ah；　don't　mind　me。　A　ruined　worn…out　psyker　who　talks　too　much。'
'I'm　interested。　What　do　you　see？'
Her　exo…skeleton　made　soft　whines　as　it　walked　her　over　to　the　other　couch　and　the　hydraulics　hissed　as　they　settled　her　into　the　seat。
She　took　another　deep　puff。
'I'm　sorry；'　she　said。　'Would　you　like　one？'
I　shook　my　head。
'I　have　served　the　Astropathicus　all　my　life；　such　as　it　is；　on　guild　tenure　and　as　a　freelance；　as　now。　When　your　woman　came　to　me
with　a　job　offer　and　real　money；　I　took　it。　But；　oh　me；　oh　my…'
'Astropaths　are　supposed　to　be　neutral；'　I　countered。
'Astropaths　are　supposed　to　serve　the　Emperor；　heretic；'　she　said。
'What　have　you　seen　in　my　mind？'　I　asked；　bluntiy。
'Too；　too　much；'　she　responded；　blowing　a　magnificent　smoke…ring。
'Tell　me。'
She　shook　her　head；　or　that's　what　I　supposed　the　hissing　action　of　her　head…cage　was　supposed　to　convey。
'I　suppose　I　should　be　grateful。　You　took　me　from　a　dead　life　to　this…　an　adventure。'
'I　don't　need　you　to　be　grateful；'　I　said。
'Dead　and　buried　on　Anemae　Gulfward　in　six…　or　dead　in　agony　in　your　service；'　she　repeated。
'It　won't　be　like　that。'
She　blew　another　smoke　ring。　'Oh；　it　will。　I've　seen　it。　Clear　as　day。'
'You　have？'
'Many　times。　I'm　going　to　die　because　of　you；　heretic。'
UNGISH　WAS　STUBBORN　and　defeatist。　I　knew　she　had　seen　things　she　wouldn't　talk　about。　Eventually；　I　stopped　asking。　We　met　every
few　days；　and　she　psy…chometrically　captured　images　from　my　mind。　The　Cadian　pylons。　Cherubael。　Prophaniti；　and　the　ornaments　he
wore。
By　the　time　we　reached　Cinchare；　I　had　a　sheaf　of　psychometric　pictures　and；　thanks　to　the　crippled　astropath；　a　grim　sense　of　the
future。
CINCHARE。　A　MINERAL　rock　orbiting　a　rogue　star。
Plagued　by　gravitic　storms；　the　Cinchare　system　wanders　sloppily　through　the　fringes　of　the　Halo　Stars　at　the　edge　of　Imperial　space。
Ten　thousand　years　ago　it　had　been　a　neighbour　of　3458　Dornal；　and　had　nine　planets　and　an　asteroid　belt。　When　we　finally　found　it；　it
was　lurching　through　the　Pymbyle　systems；　major　and　minor；　and　had　suffered　two　serious　cosmological　collisions。　Now　it　had　six
planets　and　radiating　sheets　of　asteroid　belts。　Cinchare's　rogue　star　was　locked　in　a　drunken　dance　with　Pymbyle　Minor；　a　flirtatious
encounter　of　gravities　that　would　take　another　million　years　to　resolve。
Cinchare　itself；　or　more　properly　Cinchare　rogue　system'planet　four　X181B；　was　a　blue　nugget　of　rock　swaggering　along　an　almost
figure…eight　far　orbit　around　the　clashing　stars；　following　the　vagaries　of　their　impacting　gravity　wells。
Rich　in　ultra…rare　metals　including　ancylitum　and　phorydnum；　it　had　been　a　miner's　plunder…haven　for　as　long　as　it　had　been　identified。
'No　watch　ships。　Precious　little　in　the　way　of　guidance　buoys；'　Maxilla　said　as　he　steered　the　Essene　in…system。　'I've　got　a　habitation
hot…spot。　The　mining　colony；　I'll　bet。'
'Park　us　in　orbit；'　I　told　him。　'Medea；　fire　up　the　cutter　for　landfall。　Aemos；　you're　with　me。'
'WHOO！'　WHISPERED　MEDEA；　tightening　the　grip　of　her　circuit…inlaid　hands　around　the　bio…sensors　of　the　cutter's　steering　yoke。
Another　hard　buffet　had　shaken　the　craft。
'The　gravity…tides　are　all　over　the　place。　I　keep　hitting　eddies　and　anti…trojan　points。'
'Small　wonder；'　Aemos　muttered；　easing　himself　into　a　deck…seat　and　connecting　the　restraint　harness　across　his　lap。　'The　rogue　star
and　its　planet…herd　have　made　a　disaster　area　of　this　system。'
'Hmmm…'　said　Medea；　showing　no　concern　as　she　rolled　the　cutter　up　and　over　on　its　back　to　avoid　a　jagged　black　asteroid　that
tumbled　across　our　path。　The　close　approach　to　Cinchare　was　a　debris　field；　full　of　rock　matter　and　collision　slag；　all　swirling　around
in　complex　and　exotic　orbits。　Parts　of　this　field　had　formed　into　thin　ring　systems　around　Cinchare；　but　even　the　rings　were　buckled
and　warped　by　gravity…clashes。　The　space　around　us　was　a　bright　misty　gold　where　starlight　was　catching　the　banks　of　dust　and　microlitter。
The　cutter's　shields　could　handle　most　of　the　larger　rocks　that　swirled　through　it；　but　some　were　giants　and　required　evasive
manoeuvres。
Through　the　gold　dust…light；　we　began　to　see　Cinchare　more　clearly：　an　irregular；　glittered　blue　object；　spinning　fast　along　a　stricken
axis。　It　was　half　in　shadow；　and　the　peaks　of　its　mineral　mountains　made　pre…dawn　flashes　as　they　caught　the　early　light　coming　up
over　the　daylight　terminator。
'The　closer　we　get　to　the　body；　the　worse　the　gravitic　disturbances　will　become；　of　course；'　Aemos　mused　aloud。　Medea　didn't　need　the
advice。　Even　I　knew　that　an　irregular　body　…　and　especially　an　irregular　body　composed　of　varying　densities　…　would　have　a　near…space
lousy　with　abnormal　gravity　effects。　I　think　Aemos　was　just　chatting　to　keep　his　mind　off　things。

Medea　banked　us　around　the　searing　trails　of　three　bolides；　and　into　what　felt　like　a　chute　of　high　gravity。　Cinchare's　surface；　a
revolving；　pitted　cold　expanse；　rushed　up　to　meet　us　and　filled　the　main　ports。　The　descent　and　proximity　alarms　started　to　sound；　and
Medea　killed　them　both　with　an　impatient　sideways　stab　of　her　hand。　We　levelled　out　a　little。
'The　mining　facility　beacons　just　woke　up；'　Medea　cleared　her　throat。　'I've　got　a　pre…lock　telemetry　handshake。　They're　requesting
ident。'
'Give　it。'
Medea　activated　the　cutter's　transponder　and　broadcast　our　craft's　identifying　pulse。　It　was　one　of　the　disguise　templates　we　stored　in
the　codifier　for　covert　work；　a　delicate　piece　of　fakery　designed　by　Medea　and　Maxilla。　According　to　its　signature；　we　were　a　research
team　from　the　Royal　Scholam　Geologicus　on　Mendalin。
'They've　cleared　us　to　touch；'　Medea　reported；　easing　us　past　another　buffet　of　gravity　turbulence。　'They've　activated　the　guide
pathway。'
'Any　vox　contact？