The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第30章

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I　RAN　ON。　The　gunman；　Lyko　and　his　captive　psyker　had　all　disappeared　through　a　bulkhead　door。　To　follow　them；　I'd　have　to　go　in
blind。　And　if　I'd　been　in　Lyko's　place；　I'd　have　used　the　bulkhead　as　a　point　to　turn　and　wait。
My　gut　readings　of　his　actions　had　not　been　wrong　so　far。
I　leapt　up　onto　the　wide　conveyor　belt；　ignoring　the　shouts　of　the　cowering　work　crew；　and　slithered　across　it　through　the　matted；
sticky　crop　load。　The　sap　and　the　moving　belt　made　it　nigh　on　impossible　to　stay　upright。　For　a　moment；　I　thought　I　might　slip　and　be
carried　along　under　the　nearest　roller　press。
I　leapt　off　the　far　side　onto　the　solid　deck；　dripping　with　green　mush　and　vegetal　fluid。　Now　I　was　following　the　work…line　down　the
other　side　of　the　wide　conveyor；　which　divided　the　harvester　centrally。
There　was　a　bulkhead　door　on　this　side；　too。
I　went　through　it；　low。
The　gunman　was　waiting　behind　the　other　door　on　the　far　side　of　the　moving　belt。　He　saw　me；　cursed；　and　turned　with　his　autocannon。
I　was　firing　already。　Even　at　this　shorter　range；　the　pathetic　stopping　power　of　my　auto　was　evident。　His　drum…barrelled　autocannon
was　about　to　roar　out　my　doom。
I　dived　headlong；　thumbing　my　weapon　to　auto　and　ripped　off　the　entire　clip　of　small　slugs　in　a　shrill；　high…pitched　chatter。
What　I　lacked　in　power　I　made　up　for　in　numbers。　I　hit　him　six　or　seven　times　in　the　left　arm　and　collar　and　staggered　him　backwards；
his　bonded　armour　torn　open。　The　heavy　cannon　flew　out　of　his　hands　and　landed　on　the　moving　belt　between　us　to　be　carried　out　of
view。
He　was　far　from　dead；　though　he　was　bleeding　profusely　from　the　multiple　small　calibre　grazes　and　impacts。　He　was　probably
glanding　some　stimm　that　kept　his　edge。
Snarling　a　Necromundan　oath；　he　drew　a　military…issue　las…pistol　from　his　webbing；　and　climbed　up　on　the　work…line　foot　rail　on　his
side　of　the　rolling　belt　to　get　a　better　angle　at　me。　I　threw　the　empty　gun　at　him　and　made　him　duck；　and　then　grabbed　one　of　the　hosesuspended
work　lances　hanging　by　the　line…edge。
He　got　off　a　shot　that　barely　missed　my　shoulder。　I　swung　the　lance　at　him；　the　chain…blade　tip　chittering；　reaching　out　across　the　belt。
But　it　was　hard　to　manipulate　it　with　one　wrist　smashed。
So　I　turned　the　swing　into　a　throw　and　launched　the　long　tool　like　a　harpoon。
The　chain…tip　impaled　him　and　he　died　still　screaming　and　trying　to　drag　the　industrial　cutter　from　his　chest。　As　he　went　limp；　the
tension　in　the　rubberised　power…hose　pulled　the　lance　back　towards　its　rest　hook　on　my　side　of　the　line；　dragging　the　body　onto　the
conveyor。　The　belt　carried　it　along　as　far　as　the　hose　would　allow；　and　then　it　stuck　fast；　the　belt　moving　under　it。
Piles　of　wet　plant　fibre　began　damming　up　against　it　and　spilling　over　onto　the　floor。
Eisenhorn；　a　voice　said　in　my　mind。
I　wheeled　round　and　saw　Lyko　standing　on　a　grilled　gantry　that　formed　a　walk…bridge　over　the　belt。　The　plasma　gun　he　had　used　to
burn　the　fake　Esarhaddon　was　aimed　at　me。　I　could　see　the　battered　psyker；　his　head　still　masked　and　visored；　lashed　to　a　wall…pipe　on
the　far　side　of　the　line。
You　should　have　left　well　alone；　Eisenhorn。　You　should　never　have　come　after　me。
I'm　doing　my　job；　you　bastard。　What　were　you　doing？
What　had　to　be　done。　What　needs　to　be　done。
He　came　down　the　walk…bridge　and　stepped　towards　me。　There　was　a　hunted；　terrified　look　in　his　face。
And　what　needs　to　be　done？
Silence。
Why；　Lyko？　The　atrocity　on　Thracian…　how　could　you　have　allowed　that？　Been　part　of　it？
I…　I　didn't　know！　I　didn't　know　what　they　were　going　to　do。
Who？
He　squashed　my　cheek　with　the　muzzle　of　his　potent　weapon。
'No　more；'　he　said；　speaking　for　the　first　time。
'If　you're　going　to　kill　me；　just　do　it。　I'm　surprised　you　haven't　already。'
'I　need　to　know　something　first。　Who　knows？　Who　knows　what　you　know？'
'About　you　and　your　little　pact　with　the　daemonscum？　About　your　theft　of　an　alpha…plus　class　psyker？　That　you　stood　by　while
millions　died　on　Thracian？　Hah！'　Everyone。　I　added　the　answer　psychically　for　emphasis。　Everyone。　I　informed　Rorken　and　Orsini
himself　before　I　left　on　your　trail

'No！　There　would　have　been　more　than　just　you　after　me…'
'There　is。'
'You're　lying！　You're　alone…'
You're　doomed。
He　stormed　his　mind　into　mine；　frantic　to　tear　the　truth　out　of　me。　I　think　he　was　truly　realising　how　far　into　damnation　he　had　cast
himself。
I　blocked　his　feverish　mind…assault；　and　countered；　driving　an　augur　of　psychic　rage　into　his　hind　brain。　It　was　in　there。　I　could　feel　it。
His　true　master。　The　face；　the　name…
He　realised　what　I　was　doing；　realised　that　I　outclassed　him　psychically。　He　tried　to　shoot　me　with　his　plasma　gun；　but　by　then　I　had
shut　down　his　nervous　system　and　blocked　all　autonomous　function。　I　scoured　his　mind。　He　was　frozen；　helpless；　unable　to　stop　me
ransacking　his　memory；　despite　the　blocks　and　engram　locks　he　had　placed　there。　Or　someone　had。
There。　There。　The　answer。
He　uttered　an　agonised；　oddly　modulated　scream。
Lyko　tumbled　away　from　me。
Cherubael　hovered　above　us；　high　in　the　roof　space　of　the　factory　chamber；　casting　a　glow　of　filthy　warp…light。
Choking；　twitching；　his　limbs　limp；　Lyko　was　rising　up　towards　him。　Smoke　was　coming　out　of　his　mouth　and　nostrils。
'Now；　now；　Gregor；'　Cherubael　said。　'Nice　try；　but　there　are　some　secrets　that　must　remain。'
With　a　nod　of　his　head；　he　tossed　Lyko　aside。　The　traitor…inquisitor　flew　down　to　the　front　of　the　factory　space；　bounced　hard　off　the
inner　hull　and　then　fell　down　into　the　churning　reaper　blades　in　the　factory　harvester's　maw。
His　body　was　utterly　disintegrated。
Cherubael　hovered　lower；　grabbed　the　comatose；　bound　form　of　Esarhaddon　like　a　child　picking　up　a　doll。
'I　won't　forget　what　you　did；'　said　the　daemonhost；　looking　back　at　me　one　last　time。　'You'll　have　to　make　it　up　to　me。'
Then　he　was　gone；　and　Esarhaddon。was　gone　with　him。
TWELVE
AT　CADIA；　BY　TERCE。
THE　PYLONS。
TALKING　WITH　NEVE。
A　BITTER　AUTUMN　wind　was　coming　down　off　the　moors；　and　the　turning　ribbon…leaves　of　the　axeltrees　were　beginning　to　fall。　They
fluttered　past　me　like　dry　strands　of　black　kelp；　and　collected　in　slowly　decomposing　drifts　on　the　windward　side　of　the　graves　and　the
low　stone　walls。
Above；　the　overcast　sky　was　full　of　racing　brown　clouds。
I　followed　the　old；　overgrown　path　up　the　wooded　slope；　under　the　hissing　axeltrees；　and　stood　for　a　while　alone；　looking　down　at　the
wide　grave　field　and　the　little　shrine　tower　that　watched　over　it。　There　was　no　sign　of　life；　and；　apart　from　the　wind；　no　movement。
Even　the　air…shay　that　had　brought　me　here　from　the　landing　fields　at　Kasr　Tyrok　had　departed。　I　almost　missed　the　driver's　grumbles
that　the　place　was　so　far　out　of　town。
Far　away；　almost　out　of　sight　beyond　the　glowering　moors；　I　saw　the　nearest　of　the　famed；　mysterious　pylons；　an　angular　silhouette。
Even　from　this　distance；　I　could　hear　the　strange；　moaning　note　the　wind　made　as　it　blew　through　the　pylons'　geometries；　geometries
that　thousands　of　years　of　human　scholarship　had　failed　to　explain。
This　was　my　first　time　on　the　world　they　called　the　Gatehouse　of　the　Imperium。　So　far；　it　was　not　endearing　itself　to　me。
'So；　Thorn…　you　were　none　too　sharp；　were　you？'
I　turned　slowly。　He　had　arrived　behind　me；　as　silent　as　the　void　itself。
'Well？'　he　asked。　'What　time　do　you　call　this？'
'I　consider　myself　suitably　chastened；'　I　said。
He　was　impassive；　then　the　scar　under　his　milky　eye　twitched　and　he　smiled。　'Welcome　to　Cadia；　Eisenhorn；'　said　Fischig。
ASIDE　FROM　AEMOS；　Godwyn　Fischig　was　my　longest　serving　companion；　though　he　and　Bequin　often　disputed　that　record。　I'd　met
them　both　on　Hubris；　during　my　hunt　for　the　Chaos…broker　Eyclone；　which　led　in　turn　to　the　whole　bloody　affair　of　the　Necroteuch。
I'd　actually　encountered　Fischig　first。　He'd　then　been　a　chastener　in　the　local　arbites；　ordered　to　keep　a　watch　on　me。　He　became　my
ally　through　circumstance。　Bequin　had　crossed　my　path；　if　my　memory　serves；　about　a　day　later；　but　I　had　co…opted　her　almost　directly
into　my　service；　while　Fischig　had　remained；　technically；　a　serving　arbites　officer　for　some　considerable　time　before　resigning　to　join
me。
ed　the　prize；　and　why　they