Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第40章

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it　and　chanting　a　prayer　of　forgiveness　to　the　Omnissiah。　He　climbed　onto　the　central　dais　and　rotated　several　cogged　dials。
Tedeski　fought　for　calm　as　the　first　brass　column　rose　from　the　floor；　steam　hissing　from　the　newly　revealed　metal。　Warning
klaxons　blared　and　a　stream　of　words；　meaningless　to　Tedeski；　issued　from　a　pair　of　speakers　mounted　on　the　dais。
'Can't　you　do　this　any　faster？'　hissed　Tedeski　urgently　as　the　door　buckled　inwards　again。
'I　am　going　as　fast　as　I　can。　Without　the　proper　ministrations　to　appease　the　machine　spirits　that　invest　the　reactor；　I　will　not　be
able　to　persuade　them　to　aid　us。'
'Then　don't　waste　time　talking　to　me；'　snapped　Tedeski　as　another　hammer…blow　slammed　into　the　door。
FORRIX　SMASHED　HIS　power　fist　into　the　door；　feeling　the　layered　metal　starting　to　give。　He　knew　he　did　not　have　much　time。　The
Warsmith's　captured　magos　had　told　them　of　the　capacity　of　Tor　Christo's　commander　to　destroy　the　fortress　and　Forrix　was　under
no　illusions　as　to　what　the　two　men　within　this　chamber　were　attempting　to　do。
His　warriors　gathered　behind　him；　impatient　to　kill　their　prey　and　begin　refortifying　this　place。　He　slammed　his　fist　against　the
door　again；　feeling　the　metal　crumple　beneath　his　assault。　He　gripped　the　twisted　metal　and　pulled；　tearing　the　door　from　its
mounting　with　a　roar　of　triumph。　Forrix　pushed　through　the　doorway　to　see　a　magos　in　white　robes　ministering　to　a　machine　in　the
centre　of　the　chamber；　and　a　one…armed　Imperial　Guard　officer　standing　beside　him。　The　man　fired　his　bolt　pistol　and　Forrix
grinned　as　he　felt　the　ringing　impacts　against　his　thick　armour。　He　felt　a　sensation　he　had　not　known　in　many　centuries；　but
recognised　as　pain。
He　raised　his　own　weapon　and　squeezed　off　a　short　burst；　the　shells　taking　the　magos　between　the　shoulders；　disintegrating　his
torso　and　blasting　him　clear　of　the　dais　in　a　welter　of　blood　and　bone。
The　Guard　officer　turned　and　leapt　towards　the　dais；　fumbling　with　the　brass　columns；　vainly　attempting　to　complete　what　the
magos　had　begun。　Forrix　laughed　at　the　man's　efforts　and　shot　him　in　the　leg；　toppling　him　to　the　floor　with　a　scream　of　pain。　He
deactivated　the　energy　field　surrounding　his　power　fist　and　lifted　the　howling　officer　from　the　ground；　hurling　him　to　a　waiting
Terminator。
Forrix　mounted　the　dais　and　saw　that　they　had　cut　it　close；　a　few　more　minutes　and　Tor　Christo　would　have　been　reduced　to　a
useless　molten　ruin。　He　put　a　bolt　through　each　of　the　wall…mounted　speakers　and　the　screaming　klaxons　were　silenced。
'Replace　the　rods。　It　will　prevent　the　reactor　blowing；'　he　said　to　another　of　his　Terminators　and　strode　from　the　room。
Tor　Christo　had　fallen。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
THE　SECOND　PARALLEL
ONE
As　LIEUTENANT　COLONEL　Leonid　entered　the　Sepulchre　the　flame　at　the　end　of　the　taper　wavered　in　the　draft　that　gusted　in　from
the　open　door。　Kneeling　before　a　basalt　statue　of　the　Emperor　in　the　chapel's　ossuary；　Castellan　Vauban　cupped　the　flame　behind
his　hand；　shielding　it　from　the　wind　and　lit　a　candle　for　the　men　of　Battalion　A；　as　he　had　done　every　day　for　the　last　six　days　since
Tor　Christo　had　fallen。
Leonid　kept　a　respectful　distance　from　his　commanding　officer；　awaiting　the　completion　of　his　ministrations　to　the　dead；　and
Vauban　was　grateful　for　his　officer's　understanding。
The　grim　tower　known　as　the　Sepulchre　stood　on　the　north…western　slopes　of　the　mountains；　high　above　the　citadel。　Constructed
of　smooth；　black　marble；　veined　with　threads　of　gold；　it　was　a　tall；　hollow　tube；　some　thirty　metres　in　diameter　and　a　hundred
high。　Its　inner　walls　were　studded　with　hundreds　of　ossuaries　containing　the　bleached　bones　of　every　man　who　had　borne　the　title
of　castellan。　It　had　been　a　great　comfort　to　Vauban　to　imagine　that　one　day　he　too　would　have　a　place　of　honour　amongst　the
immortal　dead；　but　he　knew　that　was　nothing　but　a　dream。　In　all　likelihood；　he　would　end　his　days　as　a　desiccated　corpse
somewhere　below　in　the　citadel；　murdered　by　this　infernal　foe。　The　thought　of　his　bones　scoured　clean　by　the　dust　storms　of　this
planet　filled　him　with　great　melancholy。
The　entire　floor　was　a　polished　disc　of　solid　brass；　its　surface　etched　with　intricate　traceries　and　swirling　lines　that　looped
gracefully　across　its　surface；　weaving　and　intersecting　in　a　beguiling　dance。　It　looked　like　a　puzzle　where　the　solution；　if　there
even　was　one；　was　forever　elusive。　Vauban　knew　it　was　possible　to　happily　lose　several　hours　trying　to　untangle　the　design　with
your　eyes；　but　he　had　long　ago　decided　that　it　was　a　mystery　he　would　never　solve。
He　rose　from　his　knees；　wincing　as　his　joints　cracked　painfully。　War　was　a　young　man's　game　and　he　was　too　old　to　bear　the
horrors　being　placed　before　him。　He　bowed　towards　the　Emperor's　graven　image　and　whispered；　'Lord　Emperor；　give　me　the
strength　to　do　your　bidding。　I　am　but　a　man；　with　a　man's　courage；　and　need　your　holy　wisdom　to　guide　me　in　this；　our　time　of
need。'
The　statue　remained　silent　and　the　commander　of　Hydra　Cordatus　turned　on　his　heel；　marching　towards　the　door　to　the　outer
chambers　of　the　Sepulchre。
Vauban　thought　he　had　known　anguish　as　he　had　watched　the　scenes　of　destruction　at　Jericho　Falls　and　on　the　plains　when　the
Iron　Warriors　had　tricked　the　gunners　at　Tor　Christo　into　shelling　their　own　men。
But　with　the　fall　of　Tor　Christo　and　the　death　of　nearly　seven　thousand　men；　he　knew　the　true　depths　of　misery。　So　many　dead；
and　the　battle　not　yet　over。
He　nodded　to　Leonid　as　he　passed；　his　second…in…command　closing　the　door　to　the　candlelit　house　of　the　dead。　The　outer
chambers　of　the　Sepulchre　were　light　and　airily　constructed；　as　though　the　architects　had　understood　that　the　human　mind　could
absorb　only　so　much　grief；　and　that　there　were　times　when　it　was　good　to　rejoice　in　the　immortality　of　the　spirit。
Bright　glow…globes；　set　behind　arched　windows　of　stained　glass；　threw　gold　and　azure　light　across　the　marble…flagged　floor。
Vauban　paused　to　admire　the　handiwork　of　artists　dead　these　last　ten　millennia。　Scenes　of　battle　were　played　out　above　him
alongside　images　of　the　Emperor　ascending　to　his　throne　and　feats　of　bravery　of　long…dead　Space　Marine　heroes。
'Beautiful；　aren't　they？'　whispered　Vauban。
'Yes；　sir；　they　are；'　affirmed　Leonid。
'Sad　then；　that　they　will　be　destroyed。'
'Sir？'
Vauban　returned　his　gaze　to　his　second…in…command　with　a　sad　smile。　'I　think　our　enemies　would　as　soon　see　this　place　reduced　to
dust；　don't　you；　Mikhail？'
'Possibly；'　conceded　Leonid；　bitterly。　'But　as　long　as　we　are　not　betrayed　by　one　man's　lust　for　glory；　or　anomer's　cowardice；　we
shall　make　them　pay　for　every　metre　they　advance。'
Vauban　could　understand　Leonid's　venom。　Princeps　Fierach　had　doomed　nearly　two　thousand　men　to　death　when　his　Titans　had
abandoned　the　Jourans　to　hunt　the　corrupted　Imperator　Titan。　Those　Titans　that　had　survived　the　battle　had　wisely　retreated　to
their　armoured　hangars　for　repairs；　their　crews　confined　to　barracks　while　the　Legio's　judiciary　sought　to　apportion　blame　for　the
debacle。　Fierach's　death　made　it　that　much　easier　for　them；　giving　them　a　conveniently　dead　scapegoat。　Princeps　Daekian；
commander　of　the　Warlord　Titan　Honoris　Causa　had　come　before　the　senior　officers　of　the　Jouran　Dragoons　in　full　dress　uniform；
offering　his　sorrow　and　a　formal　apology　on　behalf　of　the　Legio　Ignatum。
For　the　sake　of　unity；　Vauban　had　accepted　the　apology；　but　the　words　tasted　bitter。　Leonid　had　shown　no　such　restraint；　walking
up　and　striking　Daekian。　Vauban　had　been　ready　for　the　worst　kind　of　reaction；　but　Princeps　Daekian　had　merely　nodded　and　said；
'That　is　your　right　and　privilege；　Lieutenant　Colonel　Leonid；　and　I　bear　you　no　ill…will。'
Princeps　Daekian　had　then　drawn　his　curved　sabre；　stepping　forward　to　offer　it；　hilt　first；　to　Leonid。
'But　know　this：　the　Legio　Ignatum　stands　ready　to　fight　at　your　side　and　we　will　not　fail　you　again。　I　swear　by　my　blade　that　it
shall　be　so。'
Vauban　had　been　stunned。　For　an　officer　of　the　Legio　to　offer　his　sword　to　another　was　a　declaration　that　should　he　fail　in　his
sworn　duty；　he　was　willing　to　be　killed　by　his　own　blade；　and　have　the　gods　of　battle　mock　him　for　all　eterni