Dark Disciple(科幻战争)-第43部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

guilders　shrank　back；　only　to　be　pushed　forward　by　Baranov’s　burly　crew　members。
Chuckling；　Baranov　swung　away　from　the　spectacle。　For　a　moment；　his　gaze　was　drawn　towards
the　shimmering　integrity　field　that　covered　the　yawning　docking　bay。　It　was　almost　imperceptible　to
the　naked　eye；　looking　as　though　nothing　separated　the　inside　of　the　ship　and　the　vacuum　of　space；
and　it　always　made　him　feel　slightly　uneasy；　as　if　he　would　be　sucked　out　into　the　void　at　any
moment。
Ikorus　Baranov　stepped　back　alongside　the　dark　eldar　lord’s　proxy；　his　arms　folded　across　his
chest　as　the　wailing；　weeping　guilders　and　their　lovers　were　led　away　in　glimmering　manacles　that
crackled　with　energy。　He　had　never　learnt　the　name　of　the　eldar　pirate；　nor　that　of　his　representative。
Not　that　it　mattered；　he　thought。　He　would　be　unlikely　to　be　able　to　pronounce　it　anyway。
“You　have　done　well　for　me　these　past　months；”　said　the　eldar；　his　voice　as　smooth　as　velvet。
The　eldar　spoke　a　curious　form　of　Low　Gothic；　his　pronunciation　pitch　perfect；　but　with　a　strangely
singsong　inflection。
“I　am　glad　that　your　lord　has　been　pleased　with　my　deliveries；”　replied　Baranov；　trying　to　keep
his　voice　calm。　In　truth；　the　eldar　terrified　him；　but　they　paid　well。　“That　will　be　the　last　of　them；
I’m　afraid。　I　won’t　risk　another　run；　not　with　the　tyranids　so　close。”
Baranov　flashed　a　glance　at　the　eldar’s　face；　trying　to　read　him。　Normally　a　good　judge　of
character；　he　found　it　galling　that　he　could　not　gauge　the　eldar’s　emotions　in　the　slightest。　Never
again　will　I　work　with　xenos；　he　thought；　though　he　knew　as　soon　as　he　thought　it　that　it　was　a　lie。
“The…　what　do　you　call　them？　Tyranids？”　said　the　eldar。　Baranov　nodded。
“Your　pronunciation　is　perfect；”　commented　Baranov。　The　eldar　stared　at　him　for　a　moment；　and
he　felt　himself　shrink　under　his　unfathomable　gaze。
134
“The　tyranids　might　well　exterminate　all　of　the　lesser　races；　in　time；”　said　the　eldar　casually。
“They　are　a　menace；”　agreed　Baranov；　unsure　where　the　conversation　was　leading；　and
uncomfortable　making　small　talk　with　the　deadly　eldar　lord。
“If　all　of　your　kind　are　eradicated；　where　then　will　my　lord　find　such　slaves？”　asked　the　eldar；
gesturing　towards　the　guilders　being　dragged　away。　“Your　race　breeds　like　vermin。　Your　race　is
vermin；　but　you　have　your　uses；　don’t　you；　Ikorus　Baranov？”
“I…　I　believe　we　do；　my　lord。　Or　at　least　some　of　us　do。”
“I　am　glad　that　you　believe　so；”　said　the　eldar。　He　gestured　more　of　his　warriors　forward；　and
they　began　to　surround　Baranov　and　his　crewmembers。
“Ah；”　said　Baranov；　“I　think　we　should　part　ways　now；　honoured　lord。　I　won’t　press　you　for　the
payment　for　this　last　group。　Consider　it　a　gift；　a　gift　to　honour　the　friendship　between　us。”
“Friendship？”　said　the　eldar　slowly；　as　if　savouring　the　word。　“A　curious；　irrelevant　mon…keigh
concept。　And　honour？　Where　is　the　honour　in　betraying　your　own　kind？　Delivering　them　to　an
enemy；　albeit　superior；　race？　That　is　honourable　in　your　eyes？”
Baranov　felt　the　sweat　running　down　his　back；　and　his　throat　was　suddenly　dry。　He　flinched　as
the　eldar　walked　behind　him；　but　he　felt　rooted　to　the　spot；　unable　to　think；　unable　to　move。
“You　are　a　detestable　race；”　said　the　eldar。　“Your　very　stench　offends　me；　and　yet；　you　have
your　uses。　Your　soul…fires　burn　so　bright；　and　your　fear…　your　fear　is　delectable。”
The　eldar　spun　away　from　the　petrified　mon…keigh　worm。
“Enslave　them；”　he　said　in　the　eldar　tongue。
Marduk　took　careful　aim　at　one　of　the　frenzied　eldar　wyches　as　it　darted　towards　him。　Squeezing　the
trigger；　the　eldar’s　head　disappeared　in　a　mist　of　blood。　The　eldar　warriors　were　almost　naked；　their
flesh　covered　only　by　totemic　war　paint　and　ritual　piercings；　and　they　moved　like　deadly　dancers　as
they　cut　into　the　warriors　of　the　XVII　Legion。　Their　strangely　fashioned　weapons　wove　dazzling
patterns　through　the　air；　their　movements　at　once　enthralling　and　deadly。
A　score　of　them　had　died　as　they　approached；　ripped　apart　by　the　murderous　swathe　of　fire　that
the　Word　Bearers　had　laid　down。　More　had　perished　when　one　of　their　hovering　skiffs　had　been　shot
from　the　air；　the　fragile　vehicle　tipping　onto　its　side；　throwing　its　occupants　onto　the　ice　before　it
smashed　down　upon　them；　impaling　several　on　its　bladed　sides　and　crushing　more　beneath　its
weight。
Now　the　wyches　had　engaged　them　in　melee　combat；　and　the　odds　were　tipping　towards　the
greater　numbers　of　the　eldar　warriors。
Parallel　beams　of　incandescent　light　speared　through　the　night　as　a　Land　Raider　fired　upon　the
knife…like　shapes　of　the　dark　skiffs　that　circled　the　battle；　searing　a　pair　of　holes　through　one　of　its
barbed；　sail…like　uprights。　The　raider　vehicle　veered　to　the　side；　moving　with　remarkable　speed　and
grace　as　it　avoided　another　pair　of　shots　directed　towards　it；　and　another　of　the　vehicles　returned
fire；　a　beam　of　darkness　stabbing　into　the　front　of　the　Land　Raider；　which　was　rocked　by　the　blow。
Jetbikes　streamed　out　of　the　night；　screaming　low　through　the　fight；　peppering　the　Word　Bearers
with　splinter　fire。　Marduk　spun；　his　chainsword　roaring；　and　cut　the　arm　from　one　of　the　jetbikers　as
the　vehicle　screamed　past　him。　Blood　pumped　from　the　wound　and　the　rider　lost　control　of　his
jetbike；　which　flipped　into　a　sudden　dive；　skidding　into　the　ice　and　smashing　headlong　into　Kol
Badar。
The　Coryphaus　saw　it　coming　out　of　the　corner　of　his　vision　and　braced　himself；　leaning　his
shoulder　into　the　careering　jetbike。　It　shattered　against　him；　breaking　apart　as　it　knocked　him　back　a
step；　and　the　rider　was　catapulted　over　the　handlebars；　blood　spraying　in　a　wide　arc　from　the　stump
of　his　arm。
Marduk　fired　his　pistol　into　the　chest　of　another　of　the　wyches　as　it　closed　on　him；　and　the
painted　figure　was　hurled　backwards　by　the　force　of　the　shot。　He　spun；　targeting　matrices　lighting　up
135
around　him；　and　saw　another　of　the　wyches；　her　gaudy　dyed　red　hair　swinging　behind　her　as　she
ducked　under　a　swinging　blow　from　one　of　Sabtec’s　coterie　brothers　and　slashed　a　blade　through　the
warrior’s　leg；　cutting　it　off　at　the　knee。
Marduk　judged　that　this　was　the　leader　of　the　wych　troop。　She　moved　with　exquisite；　savage
grace；　her　serpentine　whip　writhing　with　a　life　of　its　own。　The　whip　cracked　out；　and　its　multiple
barbed　tips　lashed　around　the　arm　of　another　warrior　brother。　Energy　coursed　up　the　length　of　the
whip　and　the　warrior　of　the　XVII　Legion　dropped　to　the　ground；　his　body　convulsing。
Marduk　levelled　his　bolt　pistol　at　the　wych’s　head；　but　before　he　could　fire；　a　net　of　fine；　razorsharp
wire　wrapped　around　his　arm；　pulling　his　aim　off　target　and　slicing　through　his　vambraces。　A
tri…forked　spear　stabbed　towards　Marduk’s　chest；　but　the　First　Acolyte　swatted　it　aside　with　his
chainsword　and　hacked　into　the　eldar’s　neck；　ripping　his　chainblade　through　flesh。
Untangling　himself　from　the　wire　net　that　had　cut　half…through　his　vambrace；　Marduk　turned　and
staggered　back　from　the　furious　assault　of　another　of　the　wyches。　It　danced　towards　him　with　a　pair
of　long…bladed　swords　weaving　before　it。　Each　of　the　swords　had　a　guard　that　protected　the
wielder’s　hands；　and　they　had　curving　blades　for　pommels。
The　blades　moved　faster　than　Marduk　could　follow；　and　he　was　losing　ground　before　their
flashing　advance。　Snarling；　he　leapt　forwards；　his　hatred　fuelling　his　servo…enhanced　strength。
One　of　the　blades　slashed　for　his　neck；　and　Marduk　blocked　the　attack　with　his　forearm；　while
the　other　sword　slashed　up　towards　his　groin。　He　met　the　blow　with　one　of　his　own；　and　for　a
moment　the　two　combatants　were　locked　together。　Then　the　eldar　flipped　backwards；　first　one　foot
and　then　the　other　cannoning　into　the　base　of　Marduk’s　helmet；　snapping　his　head　backwards。
The　two　blades　stabbed　towards　Marduk’s　heart；　but　he　twisted　at　the　last　moment；　and　they
scraped　a　pair　of　furrows　across　his　chest。　The　First　Acolyte　grabbed　one　of　the　eldar’s　wrists；
pinning　it　in　place；　and　smashed　the　spiked　guard　of　his　chainsword　into　the　wych’s　face；
pulverising　its　skull。
Dropping　the　lifeless　corpse　to　the　ground；　Marduk　surveyed　the　battle。　The　eldar　were
everywhere；　darting　in　and　out　of　the　melee；　blades　flashing　and　pistols　spitting　razor…sharp
splinters。　Another　of　the　Land　Raiders　was　destroyed；　its　blackened　hull　smoking　and　lifeless；　and
jetbikes　screamed　around　the　outside　of　the　battle；　banking　sharply　before　gunning　their　engines　and
cutting　like　knives　through　the　combat。　Shadowy　figures　appeared　on　the　outskirts；　preying　upon　the
unwary；　blinking　into　existence　behind　warrior　brothers　engaged　in　combat；　and　cutting　them　down。
His　selves　well；　and　the　ice　was　strewn　with　the　eldar　dead；　but　he
knew　instinctively　that　this　was　not　a　battle　he　could　win。　The　notion　of　retreating　was　repellent　to
him；　but　he　had　to　keep　things　in　perspective。　He　had　what　he　needed。　The　knowledge　was　locked
inside　the　explorator’s　brain；　housed　in　the　body　of　Darioq…Grendh’al。　He　had　only　to　get　away　from
this　damnable　moon；　and　return　to　Sicarus。　Everything　else　was　meaningless。
Marduk　had　ordered　the　warriors　of　the　Host　to　protect　Darioq…Grendh’al；　but　he　saw　now　that
such　precautions　were　unnecessary。　The　corrupted　magos　was　killing　anything　that　came　near　him；
and　the　first　Acolyte　smiled　at　the　daemon’s　bloodlust　as　it　overcame　any　resistance　left　within　its
host　body。
A　mass　of　writhing；　daemonic　tentacles；　black　and　oily；　burst　from　the　magos’s　body　to　join　his
mechadendrites；　each　appearing　to　move　with　their　own　will　and　sentience。　They　coiled　around　the
legs　of　those　eldar　that　closed　in　around　the　magos；　effortlessly　hurling　them　through　the　air；　while
other　sucker…tipped　tentacles　drew　victims　in　close；　where　they　were　dismembered　by　Darioq’s
toothed　servo…arms。
Snapping　mouths　upon　the　tips　of　mechadendrites　burrowed　into　xenos　bodies；　and　fresh
mutations　appeared　upon　the　magos’s　flesh。　More　spines　and　horny　protrusions　pushed　out　along　the
ridges　of　his　servo…arms；　and　from　his　knee…joints；　metal　merged　seamlessly　into　bone　and　horn。
“We　are　leaving！”　roared　Marduk；　and　Kol　Badar　instantly　set　about　ordering　the　evacuation。
136
An　arc　of　black　light　struck　the　side　of　the　shuttle；　and　Marduk　felt　a　stab　of　unease。　It　was　not　a
feeling　that　he　was　used　to；　and　it　served　only　to　feed　his　anger。　If　the　eldar　immobilised　the　shuttle；
there　would　be　no　getting　off　the　moon。
“Move！”　roared　Marduk；　stepping　back　towards　the　embarkation　ramp　of　the　Idolater；　holding
his　chainsword　in　both　hands。　His　bolt　pistol　was　gone；　but　it　mattered　not。　All　that　mattered　now
was　getting　off　this　cursed　world。
The　Word　Bearers　formed　a　retreating　arc；　closing　together　and　backing　towards　the　shuttle；
bolters　blazing　and　chainswords　roaring；　and　the　engines　of　the　Idolater　roared　to　life。
Marduk　stood　with　Kol　Badar　and　Sabtec　at　the　top　of　the　embarkation　ramp　as　the　engines　of　the
Idolater　fired。
“Here　he　comes；”　remarked　Kol　Badar　as　Burias…Drak’shal　leapt　through　the　press　of　dark　eldar；
crushing　the　skull　of　one　of　the　wyches　as　he　came。　He　was　bleeding　from　dozens　of　wounds；　the
largest　a　gaping　hole　in　his　side；　and　his　armour　was　pe