Dark Disciple(科幻战争)-第5部分

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“It’s　been　doing　that　for　the　past　hour；　admiral；”　he　said；　“interference　from　the　hive　fleet；　or　a
radiation　field；　perhaps。　The　flag…lieutenant　thinks　it　may　be　nothing　more　than　a　technical　glitch　in
the　servitor　unit。　He　is　speaking　to　the　enginseers　about　it。”
Admiral　Augustine　raised　an　eyebrow　and　regarded　the　peculiar　behaviour　of　the　servitor　with　a
frown。　Once　again　it　put　the　ship　back　on　the　table；　and　then　removed　it。
“Useless　bastards；”　said　Cortez；　shaking　his　head　as　he　extricated　himself　from　the　enginseers
and　walked　to　Augustine’s　side。　“They　say　the　unit　was　serviced　last　week。”
The　servitor…unit　seemed　to　be　operating　as　normal；　again；　and　the　phantom　ship　was　nowhere　to
be　seen　on　the　table。
“Give　me　an　update　on　the　evacuations；　Cortez；”　said　Augustine。
“Circe　is　almost　completed；　admiral；”　said　Cortez。　“The　Valkyrie　will　be　disengaging　and
pulling　back　within　the　hour。”
The　flag…lieutenant　was　a　stocky　man　of　indeterminable　age。　A　livid　scar　tracked　across　his　chin；
and　a　gleaming；　bronze…rimmed　lens　stared　from　the　hollow　socket　of　his　left　eye。　He　was　a　natural
officer　and　Augustine’s　closest　confidant；　the　one　and　only　man　that　he　would　class　as　his　friend。
“And　the　evacuations　of　Galatea？　And　the　Perdus　moons？”　asked　the　admiral。
“Galatea　goes　well；　the　moons　of　Calyptus　less　so。　There　are　not　enough　transports。　It’s　going　to
take　those　transports　that　are　available　three　trips　to　complete　the　evacuation　of　Perdus　Skylla　and
Perdus　Kharybdis。”
“Three　trips；”　mused　Admiral　Augustine。　He　hissed　through　his　teeth；　gauging　the　position　of
the　moons　and　the　advancing　enemy　hive　fleet。　“It’s　going　to　be　tight。”
“If　the　evacuation　is　not　completed　before　a　ground　invasion　commences；　anybody　still　on　the
moons　must　be　forgotten；”　said　Cortez；　moving　to　the　opposite　side　of　the　table　to　the　admiral。
“We　shall　buy　the　moons　as　much　time　as　we　can；”　Admiral　Augustine　said；　“but　you　are
correct；　I　cannot　risk　the　fleet　for　the　benefit　of　two　moons。　Our　orders　are　clear。”
His　orders　were　clear；　as　much　as　they　rankled　with　him。　They　were　the　same　orders　that　all　of
the　fleets　engaging　Hive　Fleet　Leviathan　had　been　issued；　and　he　knew　that　they　were　being
enforced　all　across　the　war…front。
The　tyranids　were　a　deadly　menace；　there　was　no　disputing　that；　but　it　sat　badly　with　the　admiral
that　they　were　giving　way　before　the　xenos　forces　rather　than　making　them　fight　for　every　bit　of
Imperial　space。　Of　course；　he　would　not　allow　his　personal　feelings　to　colour　his　judgement；　and　he
would　never　go　so　far　as　to　voice　his　feelings　in　front　of　his　officers。　Their　orders　were　clear。　He　had
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sent　an　astrotelepathic　message　to　the　lord　admiral　on　receiving　the　dictate；　but　once　confirmation　of
the　order　had　been　returned；　his　path　was　set。
The　new　tyranid　advance　was　potentially　more　catastrophic　than　any　ever　seen　before；　and　the
strategy　that　had　been　decreed　to　be　used　against　it　was　similarly　extreme。
It　was　genocide。　Those　worlds　that　were　already　suffering　under　the　first　waves　of　ground
assault　were　effectively　condemned　to　death；　along　with　their　Planetary　Defence　Force　and　any
force　of　the　Imperial　Guard　that　could　not　be　extricated。
Admiral　Augustine　knew　that　the　political　ramifications　and　backlash　from　this　modus　operandi
would　be　devastating；　but　he　also　knew　that　no　fleet　captain　would　fail　in　his　duty。　They　would　carry
out　their　orders；　and　leave　the　politicking　to　the　bickering　bureaucrats　of　the　Administratum。
Cortez　cursed；　and　Augustine　shook　his　head　slightly　as　the　malfunctioning　servitor　unit　once
again　placed　the　phantom　Imperial　light　cruiser　back　on　the　table。
“Have　a　destroyer　do　a　sweep　around　the　moon；　just　to　be　sure；”　said　Augustine；　and　Cortez
nodded　his　assent；　even　as　he　was　shouting　for　the　enginseers　to　be　returned　to　the　bridge。
Augustine’s　gaze　focused　on　the　spherical　representations　of　the　twin　moons　of　Perdus　Skylla
and　Perdus　Kharybdis。
The　evacuation　of　the　moons　would　continue；　and　he　would　hold　the　fleet　in　position　for　as　long
as　possible。　However；　looking　again　at　their　position；　and　the　advance　of　the　tyranid　fleet；　he　knew
instinctively　that　it　would　not　be　long　enough。
Before　the　week　was　out；　he　would　be　ordering　their　Exterminatus。
The　chamber　was　a　shrine　to　death。　Part　of　Marduk’s　personal　quarters　within　the　labyrinthine
lnfidus　Diabolus；　its　high；　domed　ceiling　was　formed　from　the　ribs　of　sacrifices；　and　eight　pillars；
each　constructed　from　thousands　of　bones；　rose　into　the　gloom。　Oily　candles　had　been　set　into　the
hollow　craniums　of　the　skulls　set　into　the　pillars；　and　an　infernal　glow　exuded　from　fire　blackened；
hollow　sockets。
Braziers　of　black　iron　burnt　low；　and　black；　acrid　smoke　rose　from　the　smouldering　coals。
Hunched　figures；　their　abhorrent　faces　hidden　from　view　beneath　deep　cowls；　stalked　the　darkness
outside　the　circle　of　pillars；　swinging　heavy　censors　from　which　thick；　heady　incense　spilled。
Inside　the　pillars；　the　floor　was　rough　granite；　carved　into　the　image　of　a　holy　eight…pointed　star；
the　symbol　of　Chaos　in　all　its　guises。　A　massive　figure　stood　at　its　centre；　his　augmented　arms　raised
out　to　either　side　as　he　was　prepared　for　the　forthcoming　ceremony。
Marduk　was　silently　fuming；　still　angry　at　Magos　Darioq’s　inability　to　unlock　the　secrets　of　the
Nexus　Arrangement。　Silently　incanting　the　Nine　Levels　of　Enlightenment；　he　forced　himself　to
calm。　From　the　archive　facility　of　Kharion　IV；　the　magos　had　identified　the　location—a　backwater
Imperial　moon　called　Perdus　Skylla—of　the　one　whose　knowledge　would　release　the　artefact’s
power；　and　Marduk　forced　himself　to　breathe　evenly。　Be　patient；　he　reminded　himself。
More　than　a　dozen　hooded　figures；　stunted　creatures　that　stood　not　even　to　the　mighty　warrior’s
chest；　clustered　around　their　master；　making　him　ready　for　the　ceremony。　Their　eyes　had　been
ritually　sutured　closed　with　thick　staples；　for　it　was　regarded　as　a　sin　for　them　to　look　upon　such　a
revered　warrior。　They　brushed　his　blessed　armour　with　sacred　unguents；　and　fixed　icons　and　holy
charms　to　his　armour。
Marduk；　First　Acolyte　of　the　Word　Bearers　Legion；　acting　Dark　Apostle　of　the　Host；　stood　over
two　metres　tall；　his　limbs　encased　in　thick　reinforced　plate　the　colour　of　congealed　blood。　His　holy
power　armour　had　been　worked　upon　by　the　artisans　of　the　Host　in　recent　months；　the　plates　rimmed
with　dark　meteoric　iron；　and　battle　damage　repaired。
Marduk　had　meticulously　scrimshawed　hundreds　of　thousands　of　words　across　them　in　tiny
script；　scriptures　and　sacred　litanies　of　Lorgar　that　he　knew　by　heart。　The　entire　third　book　of　the
Tenets　of　Hate　was　inscribed　around　the　armoured　vambrace　encasing　his　left　forearm；　and　the　titles
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of　the　Six　Hundred　and　Sixty…Six　Enumerations　of　Erebus　were　carved　across　the　curved　mass　of　his
left　shoulder　pad。
The　left　shoulder　pad　had　been　dutifully　painted　black；　as　had　those　of　the　entire　Host；　in
mourning　for　the　loss　of　their　revered　leader；　the　Dark　Apostle　Jarulek。　That　Marduk　had　been
integral　to　Jarulek’s　death　made　the　symbolic　act　particularly　ironic；　and　he　smirked。
Over　his　painstakingly　worked　armour；　Marduk　wore　a　bone…coloured　robe；　tied　at　his　waist
with　chains　hung　with　icons　of　dedication　to　the　dark　gods　of　the　ether。　A　book　of　hymnals　and
battle…prayers　from　the　Epistles　of　Lorgar　hung　at　his　side；　its　dusty　pages　bound　in　human　leather。
His　head　was　bare。　A　bolt　round　fired　by　his　former　master；　the　Dark　Apostle　Jarulek；　at　pointblank
range　had　rent　the　helmet　beyond　repair；　and　Marduk’s　features　bore　testament　to　the　damage
that　shot　had　wrought。　The　entire　left　half　of　his　face　had　been　blasted　away；　and　it　had　taken　all　the
skill　of　the　Host’s　chirurgeons　and　chirumeks　to　rebuild　his　facial　structure。
Adamantium　had　been　fused　to　his　skull；　and　he　had　grinned　as　the　procedure　had　taken　place。
Pain；　it　was　taught；　was　a　blessed　gift　that　fortified　the　spirit　and　brought　one　closer　to　the　gods。　As
such；　it　was　a　sensation　to　be　welcomed。　No　proud　warrior　of　the　Legion　would　ever　consider
allowing　a　chirurgeon　to　distance　him　from　the　blessed　pain　of　his　battle　wounds　with　narcotic
opiates　or　psychotropic　injections；　for　such　a　thing　was　regarded　as　blasphemy。
His　shattered　left　cheek　was　rebuilt；　and　the　muscles　and　tendons　of　his　face　re…grown　or
replaced　with　bionic　implants。　Marduk’s　skin　had　yet　to　grow　across　this　new　facial　structure；　and
the　ceramic　gleam　of　his　sharpened　teeth　could　be　seen　through　the　strands　of　muscle　tissue　that
linked　his　upper　and　lower　jaws。
His　left　eye　socket　had　been　blasted　to　splinters；　and　the　eye　turned　to　molten　jelly　by　the
concussive　force　of　the　bolt　round。　Once　the　socket　had　been　reconstructed；　a　replacement　eye
grown　in　a　culture　of　amniotic…fluid　infused　with　warp　energy　was　surgically　attached　to　his　brain
stem。　The　daemonic　flesh　hybrid　replacement　stared　out　from　his　adamantium　eye　socket；　an　angry；
red；　lidless　orb。　The　pupil　was　little　more　than　a　sliver；　like　that　of　a　serpent’s　eye；　reflecting　all　that
it　saw。
For　all　his　reconstructive　surgery；　Marduk’s　face　bore　the　patrician　features　that　spoke　of　his
genetic　ancestry。　Every　warrior　in　the　Legion　bore　the　genetic　makeup　of　his　lord；　the　blessed
daemon　primarch　Lorgar；　and　the　similarity　between　them　was　marked；　characterised　by　their　pale
skin；　their　noble　profile；　their　proud　bearing　and　their　hair；　which　was　as　black　as　pitch。
Marduk’s　long　black　hair　had　been　combed　and　oiled　by　his　robed　attendants；　before　being　tied
into　a　long　braid　and　secured　behind　his　head；　atop　the　duster　of　cables　that　entered　his　flesh　at　the
base　of　his　skull。　A　cloak　of　matted　fur；　skinned　from　a　blood…beast　that　Marduk　had　slain　on　the
death　world　of　Anghkar　Dor；　was　draped　over　his　shoulders　and　fixed　to　leering；　daemonic　bronze
faces　on　his　breastplate。　The　inside　of　the　fur　was　lined　with　velvet；　and　symbols　of　Chaos
resplendent　had　been　scorched　into　the　fabric。
Holy　scriptures　of　Kor　Phaeron；　cut　into　the　flayed　flesh　of　innocents；　were　driven　onto　the
spikes　rimming　his　shoulder　pads；　and　fresh　blood；　drawn　from　the　bodies　of　mewling　sacrifices
artificially　bred　in　vats　on　the　lower　decks　of　the　Infidus　Diabolus　for　that　sole　purpose；　was　daubed
reverentially　onto　his　gauntlets。
One　of　the　attendants　lined　his　right　eye　with　coal；　and　smoke　rose　from　the　holy　mark　of　Lorgar
on　Marduk’s　brow　as　the　servant’s　withered　hand　brushed　it。　The　stink　of　scorched　flesh　rose　from
the　attendant’s　hand；　and　it　pulled　it　back　sharply　as　smoke　rose　from　the　mark。　Marduk　growled　in
annoyance；　and　the　attendant　was　dragged　away　into　the　darkness　by　two　of　its　kin。　Its　flesh　would
be　consigned　to　the　cleansing　fires；　its　body　fed　to　its　kin　and　its　soul；　if　it　had　one；　subject　to　eternal
torment　for　displeasing　its　master。
Marduk’s　eyes　lit　up　as　his　weapons　were　brought　forth；　led　by　a　procession　of　censer…bearing
attendants。　They　were　the　tools　with　which　the　Dark　Faith　was　delivered　to　the　heathen　masses　of
the　galaxy　and　as　such；　they　were　borne　with　reverential　care。　They　lay　upon　black　cushions；　and
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were　carried　upon　the　backs　of　creature