The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第19部分

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part　of　it。
A　COMPLEX　TRAIL　of　almost　subliminal　clues　had　put　me　on　his　tail。　I'll　spare　you　the　bulk　of　the　details；　for　they　would　merely
document　the　painstaking　tedium　that　is　often　the　better　part　of　an　inquisitor's　work。　Suffice　to　say；　we　searched　and　processed　vox
logs；　and　the　broadcast　archives　of　the　local　and　planetary　astropathic　guilds。　We　watched　ship　transfers；　orbital　traffic；　departure　lists；

cargo　movements。　I　had　personnel　in　the　streets；　watching　key　locations；　asking　off…the…record　questions　in　trader　bars；　calling　in
favours　from　friends　of　friends；　acquaintances　of　acquaintances；　even　one　or　too　old　adversaries。　I　hired　trackers　and　bloodhounders；
and　took　every　scent　trace　I　could　from　Lyko's　apartment。　I　had　pheromone　codes　programmed　into　servitor　skulls　that　I　released　into
up…ports　and　orbital　stations。
I　had　well　over　a　hundred　personnel　on　my　staff；　many　of　them　trained　hunters；　researchers　or　surveillancers；　but　I　swear　the　sheer
load　of　data　would　have　burned　out　our　brains。
We　would　have　failed　without　Aemos。　My　old　savant　simply　rose　to　the　challenge；　never　put　off；　never　fatigued；　his　mind　soaking　in
more　and　more　information　and　making　a　thousand　mental　cross　checks　and　comparisons　every　hour；　tasks　I　couldn't　have　managed　in
a　day　with　a　codifier　engine　and　a　datascope。
He　seemed；　damn　his　old　bones；　to　enjoy　it。
The　clues　came　in；　one　by　one。　A　shipment　of　cargo　put　into　long…term　storage　in　a　holding　house　in　Hive　Eight　and　paid　for　by　a
debit　transfer　from　one　of　Lyko's　known　associates。　A　two…second　pheromone　trace　in　the　departure　halls　of　a　commercial　port　down
on　the　coast　at　Far　Hive　Beta。　A　fuzzy　image　captured　from　a　Munitorium　pict…watcher　on　the　streets　of　Hive　Primaris。
A　passenger　on　a　manifest　listing　making　an　unnecessary　number　of　interconnecting　flights　between　up…ports　before　moving　off
planet；　as　if　trying　to　lose　pursuit。
Then　the　key　ones：　a　cursory　excise　exam　of　freight　that　registered　the　presence　of　psi…baffling　equipment　in　an　off…wo　rid　shipment。
A　series　of　clumsily　disguised　and　presumably　hasty　bribes　to　key　longshoremen　at　the　Primaris　starport。　A　rogue　trader　vessel　…　the
Princeps　Amalgum　…　staying　a　day　longer　at　high…anchor　than　it　had　logged　permission　to　do；　and　then　a　sudden　change　in　its　course
plans。
Instead　of　a　long　run　to　the　Ursoridae　Reef；　it　was　heading　spinwards；　via　Front's　World；　to　the　twist　farms　of　Eechan。
THERE　WAS　A　knock　at　the　room　door　just　after　dawn；　and　I　sent　everyone　except　Nayl　into　the　adjoining　room。　Bequin　and　Inshabel
had　the　presence　of　mind　to　scoop　up　all　the　food　pails　except　two。　I　went　over　to　the　window；　and　Nayl　sat　down　in　a　chair；　with　his
arm　casually　over　the　back　so　anyone　coming　in　couldn't　see　the　autopistol　in　his　hand。
I　focussed　my　mind　for　a　moment　to　make　sure　our　twist　disguises　were　live；　and　then　said；　'Enter。'
The　door　opened　and　the　porcupine　girl　from　the　twist　bar　came　in。　She　was　dressed　in　a　glistening　sap…cloak；　and　she　looked　at　us
curiously　as　she　pushed　back　her　hood。
'You　take　your　time；　twists；'　she　said。
'You　got　something；　sweetgene；　or　you　simply　s'got　to　check　the　good　stuff　you　passed　on　last　night？'　Nayl　asked　with　a　lascivious
smile。
She　scowled；　and　a　head　crest　of　spines　rose　in　a　threat　posture。
'I　s'got　a　message。　You　know　who　from。'
'The　Phant？'
'I　ain't　saying；　genesmudge。　I　just　bring　it。'
'Then　s'bring　it。'
She　reached　into　her　cloak　and　produced　an　old；　low…tech　tracker　set；　battered　and　worn。　Holding　it　up　briefly；　she　thumbed　it　on　long
enough　for　us　to　see　the　green　telltale　winking；　and　then　switched　it　off　again　and　dropped　it　with　a　clatter　onto　the　peeling　tabletop。
'S'gonna　be　an　auction。　Bidder's　market；　so　bring　lotsa　yellow；　he　says。　Lotsa。'
'Where？　When？'
'Today　at　shift　two；　in　the　chew…after。　That　s'tell　you　where。'
'That　it？'　I　asked。
'S'all　I　have。　I　just　bring　it。'　She　hesitated　at　the　door。　'You　s'might　wanna　make　my　worth　while。'
I　put　my　hand　into　my　coat　pocket　and　pulled　out　a　single；　large　denomination　Imperial　coin。
'You　take　these？'
Her　eyes　lit　up。　'I　take　anything。'
I　tossed　it　over　to　her　and　she　caught　it　with　one　hand。
'Thanks；'　she　said。　She　went　out　through　the　door　and　then　looked　back　at　us；　as　if　my　generous　contribution　to　her　immediate
happiness　had　shifted　her　opinion　of　us。
Which；　sadly；　given　this　miserable　place；　it　probably　had。
'S'don't　trust　him；'　she　advised；　then　closed　the　door　and　left。
THE　CHEW…AFTER　WAS　the　local　name　given　to　the　tracts　of　farmland　laid　waste　after　the　harvesters　had　been　through。　Wrecklands　of
shredded　vegetation　that　began　to　regrow　within　days　of　a　harvest；　such　was　the　speed　and　fecundity　of　Eechan's　floral　growth。　At　any
one　time；　there　were　several　thousand　square　kilometres　of　chew…after　in　the　farmlands　round　the　mainhive。
We　headed　south；　into　the　most　recent　areas　of　thresh…wake；　following　the　signal　of　the　tracker。
NOON。　THAT　WAS　what　she　had　meant　by　shift　two。　The　second　shift　change　of　the　day。　We　gave　ourselves　two　hours　to　get　there。
ON　TOP　OF　all　my　speculations　about　Lyko；　things　still　didn't　add　up。　It　had　been　easy　enough　for　Nayl　to　identify　Phant　Mastik　as　the
local　slaver；　with　a　specialisation　in　mindjobs；　but　why　was　Lyko　using　him？　Why　was　Lyko　selling　Esarhaddon　at　all？

Aemos　had　suggested　it　was　part　of　a　final　trade　now　that　Esarhaddon　had　completed　his　part　of　their　pact。　That　supposed　Lyko　was　in
control；　which　I　doubted。　And　if　he　was　simply　cutting　the　heretic　loose　now　the　work　was　done；　why　sell　him？　Why；　indeed；　come　all
this　way　to　do　that？　Inshabel　supposed　that　maybe　Lyko　was　now　anxious　to　get　rid　of　the　rogue…psyker　because　he　was　afraid　of　him。
I　had　my　own　theory。　Lyko　had　brought　Esarhaddon　to　Eechan　for　some　other　purpose；　and　arranging　a　mock　sale　through　the　Phant
was　simply　bait　to　draw　anyone　who　might　have　followed　him　out　into　the　open。
As　it　turned　out；　I　was　right。　I　wasn't　surprised。　It's　what　I　would　have　done。
THE　CHEW…AFTER　was　a　miasmal　waste。　As　far　as　the　eye　could　see；　which　wasn't　far　at　all　given　the　clinging　sap…mists　from　the　night
before；　the　land　was　a　gouged；　punished　rain　of　ripped　shoots；　shredded　plant…fibre；　wrenched…up　root　balls　and　pressure…flattened　soil。
The　massive　track…marks　of　the　harvesters　had　left　wide　ruts　the　depth　of　a　man's　waist；　at　the　bottom　of　which　plant　material　and　soil
was　layered　into　a　glassy　flatness　like　they　had　been　set　in　aspic。
The　misty　air　was　wet　with　sap　and　everything　was　crawling　with　lice　motes　and　storm…bugs。　They　swarmed　in　the　air；　settled　all　over
us；　and　we　could　feel　them　in　our　clothes。
By　then；　although　we　maintained　our　twist　disguises；　we　were　all　armed　and　armoured　at　full　strength。　One　doesn't　walk　into　a　likely
trap　with　a　blackpowder　pistol　and　a　sharp　stick。　I　wore　body　armour；　and　carried　my　power　sword　and　boltpistol。　The　others　were
similarly　heavy　with　bat…tlegear。　If　we　were　caught　now；　maintaining　the　pretence　we　were　twists　would　be　the　last　of　our　problems。
TEN　KILOMETRES　SOUTH；　through　the　swirling；　sticky　mists；　we　could　hear　the　chugging；　rending　sounds　of　the　harvesters　as　they
moved　on　their　way。　Every　few　metres　there　was　another　bloody　smear　or　furry　pulp；　the　remains　of　crop　rodents　caught　in　the　reaping
blades　of　the　factory　machines。
'You'd　think；'　said　Inshabel；　pausing　to　wipe　the　gooey　sweat　from　his　face；　'that　the　wildlife　would　have　got　used　to　the　farm…factories
by　now。　Learned　to　get　out　of　the　way。'
'Some　things　never　learn；'　Husmaan　muttered。　'Some　things　always　come　back　to　the　source。'
'He　means　food。　He　always　means　food；'　Nayl　chuckled　to　me。　'To　Duj；　everything　comes　back　to　food。'
'According　to　mill　statistics；'　said　Aemos；　'there　are　four　billion　crop…rats　in　every　demitare　of　field　space。　Rivers　of　them　flee　before
the　harvesters。　We've　seen　one　rat…corpse　for　every　twenty…two　metres；　which　suggests　only　two…point…two　per　cent　of　them　were
unlucky　enough　to　be　caught　in　the　blades。　That　means　the　vast　percentage　fled。　They're　smarter　than　you　think。'
He　paused。　Everyone　had　stopped　and　was　staring　at　him。
'What？'　he　asked。　'What？　I　was　only　saying…'
'That　old　geezer　fantisises　about　maths　and　stats　more'n　I　fantisise　about　the　laydies；'　Nayl　told　Bequin　as　we　moved　forward　again。
'I'm　not　sure　which　of　you　I'm　supposed　to　feel　more　sorry　for；'　she　said。
HUSMAAN　HELD　UP　the　tracker　the　Porcupine…girl　had　given　us　and　shook　it。　Then　he　slapped　it　a　couple　of　times　for　good　measure。
We　waded　through　the　plant　fibre　and　came　level　with　him。
'Problem？'　I　asked。
'Damn　thing…　too　old。'
'Let　me　see　it。'
Husmaan　handed　it　to　me。　It　was　a　piece　of　crap；　all　right。　Battered　by　a　lifetime　of　hard　knocks；　with　a　nearly　flat　powercell。　A　nice
touch　that；　I　thought；　noting　Lyko's　careful　planning。　An　unreliable　tracker　made　this　seem　so　much　more　genuine。　A　brand　new　or
well…powered　unit　would　have　been　as　good　as　a　written　invitation　beginning　''Dear　people　chasing　me；　please　come　here　and　get
killed''。
I　shook　the　device　myself　and　got　a　good　return。　Just　enough　juice　to　lead　us　to　our　deaths。
'That　way；'　I　said。
IT　WAS　CLOSE　to　noon。　The　sun　was　up；　but　the　sap…mists　hadn't　dissipated。　We　were　bathed　in　a　warm；　yellow；　filmy　glare。　According
to　the　tracker；　we　were　about　half　a　kilometre　from　the　auction　site。
'They're　expecting　me　and　Nayl；　so　we'll　go　in　with　Bequin。'　I　wanted　an　untouchable　close　to　me。　'Inshabel；　cut　east　with　Aemos。
Husmaan；　west。　Covering　positions。　Don't　move　in　unless　you　hear　me　vox　a　direct　command。　Understand？'
The　three　nodded。
'If　you　find　anything；　keep　it　Glossia　and　keep　it　brief。　Go。'
Nathun　Inshabel　armed　his　lascarbine　and　moved　away　to　the　left　with　Aemos　along　a　harvester　track…bed；　leaving　tacky　footprints　in
the　glassy；　crashed　residue　at　the　bottom　of　the　huge　rat。　Husmaan's　hempcloth…wrapped　long…las　was　already　armed。　He　darted　away
to　the　right；　quickly　lost　in　the　mist。
'Shall　we？'　I　said　to　Bequin　and　Nayl。
'After　you；'　Nayl　grinned。
I　made　one　last　command　by　vox；　in　Glossia　code；　and　we　trudged　into　the　ripped　thickets　of　the　chew…after。
THE　PHANT'S　PEOPLE　had　used　flamers　to　clear　a　wide　space　in　the　morass　of　the　chew…over。　We　could　smell　the　burnt　pulp…fibre　from
several　dozen　metres　away。

The　mist　was　still　close；　but　I　could　make　out　several　crop…runner　trucks；　skimmers　and　land　speeders　parked　in　the　blackened
clearing。　People　bustled　around　them。
'WHAT　DO　YOU　see？'　I　asked　Nayl。
He　played　his　magnoculars　round　again。　'Phant…　and　his　twist　cronies。　The　horned　guy；　and　that　eyeball　creep。　Maybe　a　dozen；　some
of　whom　think　they're　hidden　around　the　perimeter。　Plus　the　prospective　buyers。　I　make…　three…　no；　four；　all　hive…types；　with
minders。　Sixteen　other　bodies；　all　told。'
I　yanked　up　my　hood。　'Come　on。'
'There's　an　alarm　strand　round　the　site。'
'We'll　trip　it。　That's　what　it's　there　for。'
THE　ALARM　STRAND　was　an　ankle…high　wire…cord　tied　taut　between　the　churned　root　clumps。　Every　metre　or　so；　the　air…dried　shell　case
of　a　storm　bug　was　carefully　tied　to　it；　forming　a　little；　hollow…sounding　bell。　They　rattled　and　jangled　as　we　deliberately　plucked　the
wire。
In　a　moment；　ragged…robed　twist　m