The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第40章

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It　was　a　grim　place　of　dirty　bare　metal　and　lifting　gear。　Two　battered　prospector　pods　sat　in　berthing　bays；　and　in　the　gloom　at　the　far
end　was　a　cargo　shuttle　that　had　seen　better　days。
The　barn　doors　closed　behind　us；　and　flashing　hazard　lamps　in　the　berthing　dock　moved　from　amber　to　green　as　the　atmosphere　was
cycled　back　in。　Apart　from　the　servitors；　there　was　no　sign　of　life。
'Cutter's　systems　show　green　on　outside　conditions；'　said　Medea；　swinging　out　of　her　seat。
'Are　we　ready？'　I　asked。
'Sure；'　said　Medea。　She　had　switched　her　regular　Glavian　pilot's　gear；　with　its　distinctive　cerise　jacket；　for　a　much　more　anonymous　set
of　grubby　flight　overalls。　Heavy；　tan　and　baggy；　they　were　actually　the　quilted　liner　of　an　armoured　void…suit。　The　surface　was　covered
in　eyelets；　laces　and　stud…connectors　where　the　armour　segments　would　lock　on　and　there　were　umbilical　sockets　in　the　chest。　Medea
had　removed　the　helmet　ring　and　allowed　the　heavy　collar　to　hang　open。　She　wore　workgloves　and　steel…capped　military　boots；　and
tucked　her　hair　up　under　a　billed　cap　with　the　Imperial　eagle　on　the　front。
Aemos　had　adjusted　the　hydraulic　settings　of　his　augmetic　exo…skeleton　to　hold　him　in　the　stiffest；　most　upright　stance　possible。　Witb
a　long　tunic…cloak　of　black　bagheera；　a　white　skull　cap　and　an　engraved　data…cane；　he　looked　every　centimetre　a　distinguished　scholam
academic。
I　lacked　any　trace　of　my　usual　inquisitorial　garb。　I　wore　learner　breeches　and　high；　buckled　boots；　an　old　flak…armour　jerkin　with　dirty
ceramite　over…plates；　and　a　full…face　filter　mask　with　tinted　eyeslits　that　resembled　nothing　so　much　as　a　snarling　skull。　Nayl　had　lent
me　a　motion　tracker　unit　from　his　personal　kit；　which　I　had　strapped　over　my　right　shoulder；　and　a　heavy；　snub…nosed　laspistol　that
hung　in　an　armpit　rig　under　my　jerkin。　A　combat　shotgun　rested　in　a　scabbard　between　my　shoulder　blades；　and　I　had　a　belt　of　shells
for　it　around　my　waist。　I　looked　and　felt　like　hired　thug…muscle…　which　was　precisely　the　point。
Medea　popped　the　hatch　and　we　descended　into　the　barn。
It　was　cold；　and　the　air　was　parched　from　too　many　automatic　scrubbings。　Odd　mechanical　noises　sounded　sporadically　in　the
distance。　Squat；　short…base　servitors　were　busy　tinkering　with　the　old　shuttle's　exposed　engine…guts。
We　clanged　up　the　grille　stairs　to　the　interior　hatch。　It　was　marked　with　a　bas…relief　symbol　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus；　and　an
enamelled　sign　below　it　announced　that　the　tech…priesthood　was　the　supreme　authority　at　Cinchare　Minehead。
The　heavy　hatch　whirred　back　into　its　wall…slot　revealing　a　gloomy　prep…tunnel　lined　with　empty　void…suits　that　swung　on　their　hooks
in　the　breeze。　Beyond　that；　there　was　a　dank　scrub…room；　a　darkened　office　with　a　padlock　on　the　door；　and　an　empty　survey　suite　with
a　deactivated　chart　table。
'Where　is　everybody？'　Medea　asked。
WE　FOLLOWED　THE　echoing　hallways　through　the　complex。　Grubby　mining　equipment　was　scattered　or　piled　in　corners。　A　small　firstaid
station　had　been　stripped　of　surgical　equipment　and　stacked　with　crates　of　pickled　fish。　A　side　room　was　empty　except　for
hundreds　of　broken　wine　bottles。　A　disused　walk…in　freezer　store　exuded　the　stink　of　spoiled　meat　mrough　its　open　door。　Water
spattered　from　the　dark；　lofty　ceilings　of　some　vaults。　Chains　swung　from　overhead　hoists。　Cold；　dry　breezes　gusted　down　the　halls。
When　the　wall…speakers　boomed；　we　all　started。
'Allied　Imperial　Minerals！　Duty　rotation　in　fifteen　minutes！'
The　voice　was　an　automatic　recording。　Nothing　stirred　in　response。
'This　is　most　perturbatory；'　murmured　Aemos。　According　to　Imperial　records；　Cinchare　Minehead　is　an　active　concern。　Allied　Imperial
has　a　workforce　of　nineteen　hundred　running　their　deep…cast　mines；　and　Ortog　Promethium　another　seven　hundred　at　their　gypnate

quarries。　Not　to　mention　independent　prospectors；　ancilliary　service　workers；　security　and　the　personnel　of　the　Adeptus。　Minehead　is
meant　to　have　a　population　of　nearly　three　thousand。'
We　had　reached　a　main　concourse；　a　wide　thoroughfare　lit　by　overhead　lamps；　many　of　which　were　smashed。　Abandoned　merchant
shops　and　bars　lined　either　side。
'Let's　look　around；'　I　said。　We　fanned　out。　I　walked　to　the　north　end　of　the　trash…littered　concourse　and　found　steps　leading　down　into　a
wide　plaza　full　of　more　empty　shops　and　businesses。
I　heard　the　whine　of　an　electric　motor　from　down　to　the　left；　and　followed　it。　Round　the　corner　of　a　boarded…up　canteen；　a　fat…tyred
open　buggy　was　pulled　up　outside　the　unkempt　entrance　of　a　claims　registry。　I　went　inside。　The　floor　was　covered　in　spilled；
yellowing　papers　and　dented　data…slates。　A　snowdrift　of　used　and　mouldering　ration　cartons　filled　a　side　door　into　a　filing　room。
Nayl's　motion　detector　clicked　and　whirred。　It　projected　its　display　on　the　inside　of　my　mask's　right　lens。　Motion；　the　rear　office；　eight
metres。
I　edged　to　the　door　and　peered　in；　my　hand　on　the　grip　of　the　holstered　las。
A　long…limbed　man　in　filthy　overalls　was　crouching　with　his　back　to　me；　rummaging　through　a　foot　locker。
'Hello？'　I　said。
He　jumped　out　of　his　skin；　turning　and　rising　in　the　same　frantic　motion；　then　crashed　backwards　against　a　row　of　metal　cabinets。　His
long；　gawky　face　was　pale　with　fear。　His　hands　were　raised。
'Oh　crap！　Oh　dear　God…Emperor！　Oh；　please…　please…'
'Calm　down；'　I　said。
'Who　are　you？　Oh；　crap；　don't　hurt　me！'
'I'm　not　going　to。　My　name　is　Horn。　Who　are　you？'
'Bandelbi…　Fyn　Bandelbi…　mining　superintendant　second　class；　Ortog　Promethium…　crap；　don't　hurt　me！'
'I'm　not　going　to；'　I　repeated　firmly。　At　least　the　frayed　nametag　on　his　dungarees　agreed　with　him：　'BANDELBI；　F。　SUPER　2nd　O。P。'
'Put　your　hands　down；'　I　said。　'Why　did　you　think　I　was　going　to　hurt　you？'
He　lowered　his　hands　and　shrugged。　'I　didn't…　sort　of…　I　don't　know…'
He　regained　a　little　composure　and　squinted　at　me。　'Where　did　you　come　from？'　he　asked。　He　was　an　ugly；　lantern…jawed　fellow　with
unkempt　greasy　hair　and　stubble。　There　was　the　hint　of　a　raw　pink　birthmark　on　the　side　of　his　throat。
'Off　rock。　Just　got　here。　I　was　wondering　why　there　was　no　one　around。'
'Everyone's　gone。'
'Gone？'
'Gone。　Shipped　out。　Left。　Because　of　the　Gravs。'
'The　Gravs？'
I　don't　know　if　he　was　going　to　answer。　My　motion　tracker　suddenly　flashed　an　alert　up　on　my　lens　and　I　wheeled　around　to　find　a
man　standing　in　the　registry's　entrance。　He　was　a　big　man　with　dark　skin　and　a　white　stubble　of　hair　and　beard。　The　autopistol　in　his
right　hand　was　aimed　at　my　face。
'Nice　and　slow；'　he　said。　'Lose　the　guns。　And　the　mask。'
'What's　going　on？　Who's　in　charge　here？'　demanded　a　voice　from　outside。　It　was　Aemos。
The　man　with　the　gun　glanced　outside　and　then　waved　me　ahead　of　him。　Aemos；　looking　very　haughty　and　dignified；　stood　in　the
streetway　behind　the　parked　buggy。
'Well？　I　am　Doctor　Savine；　from　the　Royal　Scholam　Geologicus　on　Mendalin。　Is　this　the　way　Cinchare　Minehead　greets　its　guests？'　I
was　impressed。　There　was　a　querulous　tone　of　piqued　authority。　Aemos　had　acting　talents　I　had　never　imagined。
'You　got　papers？'　asked　the　man　with　the　gun；　still　covering　me。　Ban…delbi　had　emerged　and　was　watching　the　exchange。
'Of　course！'　Aemos　snapped。　'And　I'll　show　them　to　someone　in　authority。'
The　man　with　the　gun　reached　his　free　hand　down　into　the　neck　of　his　mesh…reinforced　coat　and　pulled　out　a　polished　silver　badge　on
a　neck　chain。　'Enforcer　Kaleil；　Cinchare　Minehead　Security　Service。　I'm　the　only　authority　you'll　find　round　here。'
Aemos　tutted　and　rapped　the　tip　of　his　data…cane　down　on　the　rockcrete　ground。　The　cane…head　clicked　around　and　cast　a　small
hologram　into　the　air　above　it：　identity　details；　the　seal　of　the　Royal　Scholam　Geographicus；　and　a　slowly　revolving　3…D　scan　of
Aemos's　head。
'Okay；　doctor；'　nodded　Kaleil。　He　gestured　to　me　with　the　gun。　'What　about　this　goon？'
'You　think　I'd　travel　out　to　this　misbegotten　rock　without　a　bodyguard？　This　goon　is　Mr　Horn。'
'This　goon　y　friend　Bandelbi。'
Aemos　looked　at　me　sternly。　'I've　warned　you　about　that；　Horn！　Dammit！　You're　not　in　the　Mordian　gang…wars　now！'
Aemos　turned　back　to　Kaleil。　'He　is　somewhat　enthusiastic。　One　testosterone…stimm　too　many；　somewhere　along　the　line。　But　I　needed
muscle；　not　brains；　and　he　was　cheaper　than　a　cyber…mastiff。'
Be　thankful　you　can't　see　my　face　behind　this　mask；　old　friend；　I　thought。
'Okay。　But　keep　him　on　a　leash；'　said　Kaleil；　bolstering　his　weapon。　'Let's　go　to　the　security　station　and　you　can　tell　me　what　the　hell
you're　doing　here。'
'And　you　can　tell　me　where　the　hell　everyone　is；'　replied　Aemos。　Kaleil　nodded　and　gestured　for　us　to　lead　the　way　down　the　street。
'So　you　don't　need　me　to　detonate　anyone's　skull；　Doctor　Savine？'　said　a　voice。
Kaleil　and　Bandelbi　froze。　Medea　slunk　from　cover　in　a　shutterway　across　the　street；　a　Glavian　needle　pistol　held　in　an　unwavering
two…handed　grip　and　aimed　at　Kaleil's　head。

'Crap！'　Bandelbi　gasped。
'My　pilot；'　Aemos　said；　deadpan。　He　flapped　a　hand　sidelong　at　Medea。　'No；　Cora。　We're　all　friends　here　now。'
Medea　grinned　and　winked　at　Kaleil；　sliding　her　weapon　away　inside　her　flight　suit。
'Had　you　cold；　Enforcer　Kaleil。'
Kaleil　gave　her　a　murderous　glare　and　led　us　towards　the