The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第43章

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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　sternum　like　suckerworms
hunting　for　prey　and　connected　swiftly　with　the　polished　sockets　on　the　lectern。
Now　Bure　was　also　conjoined　with　the　translithopede's　mind…impulse　unit。
'We　make　good　speed；'　he　told　us。　He　twitched；　and　the　velvet　drapes　at　the　far　end　of　the　chamber　drew　aside　automatically；　revealing
a　large　holographic　display。　Secondary　images　overlaid　the　main　one；　showing　three…dimensional　charts　and　power'speed　graphics。
The　main　image　was　just　a　dark　rushing　blur　laced　with　crackles　of　blue　energy。
This　was　the　view　directly　ahead　of　us；　the　rock　disintegrating　before　the　awesome　destructive　force　of　the　plasma　cutting…screw。　We
were　travelling　straight　through　solid　rock。
'Perhaps　it's　time　we　discussed　what's　going　on　here；'　I　said。
'We　hunt；'　sad　Bure。
'You've　been　hunting　for　a　long　time；　magos；'　said　Aemos。　'Eleven　weeks　now。　What　are　you　hunting　for？'
'And　why　is　Cinchare　minehead　derelict？'　I　added。
Bure　paused　as　he　selected　the　correct　electrograft　memory。　He　was　almost　lost　in　the　euphoria　of　mind…impulse　union。
'Ninety…two　days　ago；　as　far　as　I　am　able　to　reason　it；　an　independent　prospector　called　Farluke；　working　under　license　for　Ortog
Promethium；　returned　from　a　long　tour　of　assay　rock　side　and　presented　his　masters　with　a　unique　discovery。　They　tried　to　keep　it
secret　for　a　while；　hoping；　I　believe；　to　exploit　it　for　their　own　ends。　That　error　in　judgment　was　costly。　By　the　time　they　realised　their
mistake；　and　shared　their　data　with　the　Adeptus；　it　was　already　too　late。'
'What　had　Farluke　found？'　asked　Aemos。
'It　is　called　the　Lith。　I　have　not　seen　it；　but　I　have　studied　extracts　recovered　from　the　bodies　of　tainted　men。'
'Recovered？'　breathed　Medea；　unnerved。
'Posthumously。　The　Lith　is　a　hyper…dense　geode　of　approximately　seven　hundred　tonnes。　It　is；　as　I　understand　it；　a　perfect　decahedron
four　metres　in　diameter。　Its　mineral　composition　is　exotic　and　inexplicable。　And　it　is　alive。'
'What？　Magos！　Alive？'
'Sentient；　at　least。　It　is　infused　with　the　wretched　filth　of　Chaos。　How　long　it　has　lain　undiscovered　in　the　depths　of　this　world；　I　do　not
know。　Perhaps　it　has　always　been　here；　or　perhaps　it　was　hidden　in　pre…Imperial　times　by　unknown　hands　to　keep　it　safe…　or　to
dispose　of　it。　Perhaps；　indeed；　it　is　the　reason　Cinchare　has　broken　from　the　order　of　its　stellar　dance　and　drifted；　rogue　and　wild；
through　the　stars。　I　had　hoped；　initially；　to　find　it　and　recover　it。　Its　composition　alone　promised　a　wealth　of　precious　knowledge。　But
now　I　hunt　for　it…　simply　to　destroy　it。'
'It　has　corrupted　this　world；　hasn't　it？'　I　said。
'Completely。　As　soon　as　it　came　in　contact　with　men；　it　began　to　twist　their　minds　with　its　malign　power。　It　subjugated　them。　The
Ortog　work　teams　sent　down　to　examine　it　were　the　first。　What　is；　to　all　intents　and　purposes；　a　cult　sprang　up　spontaneously。　Each
initiate　had　a　splinter　of　rock　shaved　from　the　Lith　buried　beneath　his　skin　in　a　simple；　brutal　ritual。'
'We've　seen　the　marks。'
'Disorder　spread　through　Cinchare　minehead　as　the　cult　grew。　The　Lith　couldn't　be　moved；　but　splinters　were　brought　up　and　used　to
infect　more　and　more　of　the　workforce。　Once　tainted；　the　workers　began　to　disappear；　setting　off　on　pilgrimages　down　into　the　mines
to　make　worship　to　the　Lith。　Many　never　made　it。　Most　have　simply　vanished。　I've　tried　to　follow　their　tracks；　sometimes　encountering
hostile　cult　elements　bent　on　protecting　their　deity。　But　Farluke's　original　data　is　unreliable。　I　cannot　find　the　Lith's　true　location。　I　fear
it　is　just　a　matter　of　time　before　the　cult　manages　to　extend　its　reach　beyond　Cinchare。　Or…'
'Or？'
'Or　they　will　complete　some　arcane　task　instructed　by　the　Lith　and　awaken　its　power　in　full…　or　allow　it　to　connect　with　its　own　kind。'
We　considered　this　grim　possibility　for　a　moment。　Aemos　quietly　pulled　up　an　entry　on　the　screen　of　his　data…slate；　undipped　the
device　from　his　wrist；　and　handed　it　to　Bure。
'Does　this　help？'　he　asked。
Bure　stared　at　the　slate。　His　green　eyebeams　dilated　into　hard；　bright　points。
'How　in　the　name　of　the　Warpsmiths　did　you…'
'What　is　it？'　I　asked；　stepped　forward。
'The　location　of　the　Lith；'　said　Aemos　proudly。
'How　did　you　get　this？'　Bure　cried；　his　vox　undercut　by　excited　binary　chatter。
'The　cult　needs　to　know　where　it　is。　The　reference　was　clearly　marked　in　the　charts　I　downloaded　from　the　security　office。　I　didn't
realise　its　significance　until　now。'
'You　just　downloaded　this？'　Bure　said。
'I　believe　they　thought　they　had　no　reason　to　hide　it。　It　wasn't　encrypted。'

Bure　threw　back　his　chrome　skull　and　laughed；　a　screeching；　mocking　cackle。　'Eleven　weeks！　Eleven　weeks　I　have　scoured　and
searched　and　fought　my　way　through　the　bowels　of　this　rock；　hunting　for　clues；　and　the　answer　was　up　there　all　the　time！　In　plain
sight！'
He　turned　to　Aemos　and　laid　a　steel　hand　on　the　savant's　stooped　shoulder。　'I　have　always　admired　your　wisdom；　Uber；　and　recognised
why　Hapshant　valued　you　so…　but　now　I　realise　that　great　wisdom　comes　from　simplicity。'
'It　was　luck；　nothing　more。'
'It　was　bold　simplicity；　savant！　A　moment　of　direct；　clear　thought　that　quite　dwarfs　my　labours　down　here。'
'You're　too　kind…'　Aemos　mumbled。
'Kind？　No；　I　am　not　kind。'　Bure's　eye…lights　swelled　and　flashed。　'I　will　cut　my　way　to　the　heart　of　the　Lith；　and　then　its　spawn　will　see
how　unkind　my　soul　can　be。'
TWO　HOURS　LATER；　after　Bure's　servitors　had　taken　us　to　a　sparely　furnished　cabin　and　provided　us　with　flavourless；　odourless　nutrient
broth　and　hard　cakes　of　fibre　bread；　we　were　summoned　back　to　the　control　chamber。
Outside；　a　small　war　was　going　on。
I　had　already　sensed　we　had　decelerated　from　tunnelling　speed　by　the　reduced　throb　of　the　impellers；　and　now　I　saw　why。　We　had
bored　out　of　the　rock　into　a　towering　vault　lit　by　spurting　pools　of　magma　and　flaming　spouts　of　gas。　On　the　chamber's　holographic
screen；　I　could　see　distorted；　jarring　images　of　the　cavern　outside。　Silent　laser　fire　was　jabbing　at　us。
Bure　was　linked　to　the　podium's　lectern。
'We've　found　their　nest；'　he　said。　'They　resist。'
As　I　watched；　two　soot…stained　prospector　pods　powered　in　towards　us；　firing　small　arms　from　their　open　hatches。
Bure　nodded　to　one　of　his　tech…adepts；　and　the　shriek　of　multi…laser　blasts　rang　through　the　hull。　One　pod　exploded　in　a　ball　of　light；
the　other　tumbled　away；　shredded　and　burning。
I　realised　there　were　men　on　the　ground　too：　miners　in　armoured　work…suits　scurrying　forward　and　firing　at　the　translithopede。
Bure　increased　magnification；　and　we　saw　that　some　of　them　carried　pallets　of　mining　charges；　hoping　to　get　close　enough　to　breach
our　hull。
'Stalkers；'　Bure　said。　It　was　evidently　an　order。　There　was　a　clank　and　a　thud　as　hatches　opened　somewhere　below　us；　and　then　new
shapes　began　to　move　into　view　on　the　screen。
They　were　combat　servitors。　Heavyweight　and　burnished　silver；　they　strode　on　powerful；　backward…jointed　legs；　puffing　black　exhaust
from　their　upthrust　smoke　stacks。　Cannons　in　their　upper　limbs　jerked　with　pneumatic　recoil　as　they　systematically　targeted　and　cut
down　the　cultist