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第70章

Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第70章

小说: Storm Of Iron(科幻战争) 字数: 每页3500字

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protect recovered xeno artefacts。 There is a secret hidden within this citadel that is worth the life of every man who serves here。'
Leonid vowed he would find out what that secret was; even if he had to wring Naicin's neck or threaten to put a las…bolt through
whatever machine kept the remains of Amaethon alive。 It might already be too late for the 383rd Jouran Dragoons; but Leonid
would make damn sure the Adeptus Mechanicus were made to pay for their crimes。
Several corridors branched off the main one; but Leonid unerringly followed the path towards the Machine Temple。
'Someone is ahead of us;' whispered Eshara; drawing and cocking his bolt pistol。
Leonid followed suit as his honour guard raised their rifles and moved to surround him。
The armed party rounded a bend in the corridor as it widened into a vaulted chamber; with latticed iron girders lacing above them
to form a web…like dome。 Glow…globes floated in suspensor fields; the walls were inscribed with cog symbols and all manner of
metal crates and bulky machines lay scattered around the room。 Worker servitors and indentured labourers moved mechanically
around the wide room; oblivious to the goings on around them。
At the far end of the chamber; a wide; semicircular cog…toothed door sat half open; a small group of people clustered around it。
Leonid immediately recognised Magos Naicin and the ungainly form of two Praetorian battle…servitors。 Servitors were surgically
altered slaves utilised by the Adeptus Mechanicus for a variety of manual tasks。 Praetorians fulfilled the adepts need for heavy
defence; featuring an augmented slave body atop a mechanised track unit; with a variety of lethal weapon combinations implanted
in the servitors' arms。
The last figure was unknown to Leonid; but he was astonished at the hideous bulk of the man that not even his shapeless robes
could conceal。 His skin was the colour of black steel; his face more dead than alive。
Naicin saw them coming and darted through the door; dragging the enormous robed figure after him。
Leonid growled in anger and set off towards the closing door as the two battle…servitors rumbled forwards。 Leonid was too intent
on the door to pay them any heed。 Nothing would prevent him from reaching Naicin and killing him。
The first Praetorian raised its weapon arms as Leonid's honour guard rushed after him; realising his danger。 The fastest man of the
team dived for his commander; knocking him to the ground as the Praetorian opened fire; the rhythmic thumping of a massive
bolter filling the chamber as it hosed the chamber with shells。
The shells passed over Leonid; but the men behind were not so lucky。 Three were thrown back; huge holes blasted in their chests。
Leonid and his rescuer rolled into the cover offered by a huge tracked drilling rig as more shots filled the chamber; heavier auto
cannon shells blasting metal chunks from the machine。
A flurry of las…blasts struck the Praetorian; which rocked back; bloody craters torn across its body。 The battle…servitor didn't slow;
Graham McNeill ?Storm of Iron?
it merely adjusted its aim and ripped apart yet more of Leonid's guard with deadly accurate gunfire; bullets spewing from the gun
at a furious rate。
The man who'd saved Leonid's life spun from the cover of the drilling rig; taking careful aim at the Praetorian's head。 He dropped
as he was struck in the head and chest; blown apart by the mass reactive bolter shells as they detonated within his flesh。
Leonid scrambled away as the heavy bolter and auto cannon began tearing up the chamber。 Glass; plastic and blood erupted all
around; showering them with sparks as soldiers and worker…servitors went down; panels and glow…globes shattering。
The lobotomised worker…servitors were not programmed to react to such external stimuli and continued working at their posts。
They died silently as the Praetorians walked the shells into them; raking their fire left and right; servo assisted muscles easily
absorbing their guns' huge recoil。
Emergency lights flickered on as fluorescent panels were shot out and Leonid slithered towards Eshara; who had drawn his
crackling power sword。
Human workers scrambled to disconnect themselves from their stations and seek shelter as the battle…servitors slowly advanced
towards them。 One dropped to his knees; begging for mercy。
The Praetorian shot him in the face。
The rest died in three controlled bursts of fire。
Leonid surged from behind the drilling rig as the wounded Praetorian finished the slaughter of the technicians。 He squeezed off
two rounds and the servitor staggered; two massive holes blasted in its skull。 It raised the heavy bolter and fired as Leonid's third
shot took it in the throat; blowing its head clean off。
It fell backwards; firing the gun as it toppled; stitching a line of bullets towards Leonid and clipping his shoulder。 He yelled in
pain; the impact spinning him to the floor。
The second Praetorian trained its auto cannons on Leonid; the firing mechanisms whining as they built up speed to fire。
Before it could shoot; Eshara leapt from the cover of the crate and slashed his sword through the barrels in a bright explosion of
sparks。 He spun on his heel; hammering his elbow into the battle…servitor's face and smashing its skull from its shoulders in a
welter of blood。 His reverse stroke hacked the organic top half of the Praetorian's body from the track unit。 The whine of its
weapons motor sputtered and died。
Leonid picked himself up from the ground; clutching his wounded shoulder; and nodded his thanks to Eshara before turning the
closed door behind which Naicin and his unknown accomplice had vanished。
'Damn!' he swore。 'How in the name of Joura are we going to get through that?'
Eshara looked over Leonid's shoulder and indicated something behind him。
Leonid frowned and turned to see what the Space Marine was pointing at。 And grinned。
THE DOOR TO the Machine Temple was thirty centimetres thick and composed of solid steel; but it crumpled like tinfoil when the
eighty…tonne drilling rig slammed into it。 The roof section was torn free by the low clearance of the door as it came screeching
through; spewing torn scraps of steel and sparks all across the inner sanctum of the Machine Temple。 The giant tracked machine
slewed around as Eshara lost control for a second; the enormous rig smashing into a bank of monitors and control panels。 The
amber…lit chamber was filled with pulsating machinery and barely had the drilling rig skidded to a squealing halt than Leonid;
Eshara and the four surviving members of his honour guard leapt from the rambling machine。
Leonid grunted in pain as he landed; trying to make sense of the scene before him。
Magos Naicin stood with his head boboid structure topped with a shattered vat of draining fluid。 In one
gloved hand he held his bronze facemask and; in the other; what looked like a glistening slab of wet meat。 He tossed it aside and
Leonid was horrified to see the slack features of Arch Magos Amaethon staring up at him from the floor。 After centuries of
service; the organic remains of the arch magos were finally dead。
The bulky figure that had accompanied Naicin stood atop the rhomboid; its wide; misshapen arms spread wide。 Bulging motion
undulated beneath its robes as though a collection of snakes writhed beneath them。 Even as he watched; the robes split and fell
from its body; revealing a massive; iron…black musculature that rippled in a horrific amalgamation of organic and biomechanical
components。 Was this creature machine or man; or some horrific symbiosis of the two?
'Naicin!' shouted Leonid。 'What have you done?'
The magos lifted his face and Leonid gasped in horror as he saw Naicin's true features; a swirling mass of thin; wormlike tentacles
that glistened and writhed together to form the mass of his head。 A cluster of milky and distended eyes bulged in the centre of his
features; above a sphincter…like mouth; ringed with needle teeth。
'Mutant;' spat Eshara; raising his pistol。
The four Guardsmen were transfixed in horrified wonder at the bizarre sight before them。 And their perverse fascination killed
them。
The figure atop the rhomboid raised its arms; its flesh writhing as they transfor

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