The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第25部分

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this　great　distance；　just　a　blur　in　the　heavens；　it　put　a　chill　into　me。　If　the　two…headed　eagle　symbolises　all　that　is　good　and　noble　and
right　about　the　Imperium　of　Mankind；　that　rancid　blur　symbolised　all　that　was　abominable　about　our　eternal　foe。
LAUGHTER　AND　WARM　voices　greeted　Fischig　as　we　went　aboard。　Aemos　shook　him　repeatedly　by　the　hand　and　Bequin　planted　a
quick　kiss　on　his　cheek　that　made　him　blush。　He　exchanged　a　few　playful　put…downs　with　Nayl　and　Medea；　and　asked　Husmaan　if　he
was　hungry。
'Why？'　the　scout…hunter　asked；　his　eyes　widening　in　anticipation。
'Because　it's　supper　time；'　said　Fischig。　'Betancore；　get　this　crate　into　the　air。'
We　were　going　to　that　safe　place　he　had　mentioned。
I　HAD　NOT　been　aboard　the　sprint　trader　Essene　for　some　five　years。　A　classic　Isolde…pattern　bulk　clipper；　the　ship　was　like　a　spacegoing
cathedral；　three　kilometres　long；　and　looked　as　majestic　holding　low　anchor　above　Cadia　as　it　had　when　I　first　saw　it；　nearly　one
hundred　years　before；　in　the　cold　orbit　of　Hubris。
Medea　coasted　us　in　towards　the　cargo　hatch　of　the　gigantic　craft。
'A　rogue　trader？'　asked　Inshabel　cautiously；　looking　over　my　shoulder　at　the　ship　ahead。
'An　old　friend；'　I　reassured　him。
SHIP　MASTER　TOBIAS　Maxilla　was；　I　suppose；　my　most　unlikely　ally。　He'd　made　his　living　shipping　luxury　goods　officially；　and
unofficially；　along　the　space　lanes　of　the　Helican　subsector。　He　still　did。　He　was　a　merchant；　he　maintained；　to　any　that　asked。
But　he　had　a　pirate's　taste　for　adventure；　a　yearning　for　the　halcyon　days　of　early　space…faring。　I　had　hired　his　ship　during　the　affair　of
the　Necroteuch；　to　provide　nothing　more　than　transport　for　my　team；　but　he　had　got　involved；　with　increasing　glee；　and　he'd　stayed
involved　ever　since。　Every　few　years　over　the　last　century；　I　had　hired　him　to　run　passage　for　me　or　some　of　my　staff；　or　he　had
contacted　me　to　ask　if　his　services　were　needed。　Just　because　he　was　bored。　Just　because　he　was　''in　the　neighbourhood''。
Maxilla　was　an　educated；　erudite　man　with　a　subtle　wit　and　a　taste　for　the　finest　things　in　life。　He　was　also　a　charming　host　and　a　good
companion　and　I　liked　him　immensely。　He　was　in　no　way　a　formal　part　of　my　staff。　But　he　was；　I　suppose；　after　all　this　time　and　all
those　shared　adventures；　a　vital　part。
The　year　before；　when　it　had　been　decided　that　Fischig　would　embark　on　this　long　chase　after　the　Cadian　leads；　I　had　asked　Maxilla　to
provide　him　with　transportation；　for　as　long　as　it　was　needed。　He　had　agreed　at　once；　and　not　because　of　the　generous　fee　I　was
offering。　To　him；　it　sounded　like　a　true　adventure。　Besides；　it　promised　a　chance　to　give　the　old　Essene　a　proper　long　run　out；　beyond
its　normal　route　of　the　Helican　stars。
A　genuine　voyage。　An　odyssey。　That　was　what　Tobias　Maxilla　lived　for。
HE　WAS　WAITING　in　the　cargo　hold　to　greet　us　even　before　the　extractor　vents　had　finished　dumping　out　the　cutter's　thruster　fumes。　He
had　dressed　for　the　occasion；　as　was　his　way：　a　blue　velvet　balmacaan　with　huge　sleeves　and　a　jabot　collar；　a　peascod　doublet　of
japanagar　silk；　patent　leather　sabattons　with　gold　buckles；　and　a　stupendous　fantail　hat　perched　on　his　powdered　periwig。　His　face　was
skin…dyed　white　and　set　with　an　emerald　beauty　spot。　His　cologne　was　stronger　than　the　thruster　fumes。
'My　dear；　dear　Gregor！'　he　cried；　striding　forward　and　taking　my　proffered　hands　with　both　of　his。　'A　signal　joy　to　have　you　back
aboard　our　humble　craft。'
'Tobias。　A　pleasure；　as　always。'
'And　dear　Alizebeth！　Looking　younger　and　more　fragrant　than　ever！'　He　clasped　her　hand　and　kissed　her　cheek。
'Steady　now；　you'll　smudge…　your　make　up。'
'Wise　Aemos！　Welcome；　savant！'
Aemos　just　chuckled　as　his　hand　was　shaken。　I　don't　think　he　ever　kneake　of　Maxilla。
'MrNayl！'
'Maxilla。'
'And　Medea！　Ravishing！　Quite　ravishing！'

'You　certainly　are；'　Medea　said　playfully；　allowing　one　of　her　circuit…inlaid　hands　to　be　kissed。
'You　knew　we　were　coming；　Maxilla。　You　might　have　smartened　up　a　bit；'　said　Fischig。　Amid　laughter；　they　shook　hands。　I　realised
their　relationship　had　changed。　They　had　been　together　for　a　year　on　this　mission。　Fischig　had　never　really　connected　with　Maxilla：
their　backgrounds　and　lives　were　too　divergent。　But　clearly；　a　year　in　each　other's　company　had　brokered　a　true　friendship　at　last。
That　pleased　me　too。　An　inquisitor's　band　works　better　when　it　is　close　knit。
Maxilla　turned　to　Husmaan　and　Inshabel。
'You　two　I　don't　know。　But　I　will；　as　that's　what　dinners　are　for。　Welcome　to　the　Essene！'
MAXILLA'S　SCULPTURAL　GOLD　servitors；　each　one　a　work　of　art；　had　prepared　a　late　supper　for　us　in　the　grand　dining　lounge。　A　pate
zephir　of　crab；　fresh　from　the　Caducades　that　morning；　ontol　flowers　poivrade　in　their　husks；　fillets　of　Cadian　boar　hongroise；
followed　by　an　ebonfruit　talmouse　with　cream　and　Intian　syrup。　The　gilded　sommelier　served　petillant　Samatan　rose；　heavy…bodied
Cadian　claret；　a　sweet　and　sticky　Tokay　from　a　lowland　dos　on　Hydraphur；　and　stinging　shots　of　Mordian　schnapps。
Our　humours　were　good；　and　the　impromptu　supper　gave　us　time　to　step　back　from　the　work　at　hand　and　relax。　None　of　us　spoke　of
the　case；　or　the　demands　that　it　was　likely　to　make　of　us。　To　rest　the　mind　often　clears　it。
I　was　going　to　need　clarity　now。
WE　RETURNED　TO　Kasr　Derth　the　next　morning　in　the　gun…cutter。　The　steel　dawn　over　the　wide　island　group　of　the　Caducades　was　cut
by　the　rising　edge　of　a　burning；　red　sun。　As　we　swept　in　over　the　craggy　mainland；　the　peaks　and　edges　of　the　moors　were　caught　with
a　pink　alpenglow。
Despite　the　fact　that　we　were　broadcasting　the　correct　clearances；　we　were　challenged　six　times　in　the　half…hour　descent。　At　one　point；
a　pair　of　Cadian　Marauders　rolled　in　and　flanked　us　as　they　checked　us　over。
Military　security　dominated　the　Cadian　way　of　life。　Every　non…military　transport；　shuttle　and　starship　was　placed　under　acute
observation；　especially　those　that　behaved　suspiciously　or　wandered　from　the　authorised　flight　routes。　Aemos　told　me　that　a　pinnace
carrying　the　Deacon　of　Arnush；　visiting　Cadia　for　a　promulgation　seminar；　had　been　shot　down　over　the　Sea　of　Kansk　six　months
earlier；　simply　because　it　failed　to　give　the　correct　codes。　It　made　me　wonder　how　our　unknown　foe　had　got　his　minions　on　and　off
Cadia。
Unless；　like　us；　he　had　an　identity　and　a　rank　that　easily　turned　aside　routine　security　checks。
WE　WERE　DIVERTED　sixty　kilometres　west　of　Kasr　Derth　because　a　war　was　going　on。　The　dawn　light　was　filled　with　the　flashes　and
light　streaks　of　a　mass　rocket　attack。
Eight　regiments　of　Cadian　Shock；　just　a　few　days　away　from　shipping　out　to　a　tour　of　duty　on　one　of　the　inner　fortress　worlds　of　the
Cadian　Gate；　were　staging　a　live　firing　exercise。
We　finally　set　down　on　the　minster's　launch　pad　over　an　hour　late。　The　war…bells　in　every　tower　and　shatrovy　in　the　Kasr　were　ringing
to　signal　that　the　roar　of　battle　from　the　nearby　plains　and　moors　was　just　a　practice。
We　divided　our　efforts。　Fischig　took　Aemos　to　the　Minster's　archivum　to　study　the　records　we　had　ordered　copied　the　night　before　and
do　further　research。　Bequin；　escorted　by　Husmaan；　went　to　search　the　stacks　of　the　Ecclesiarchy's　records　in　the　apostolaeum。　Inshabel
and　Nayl　visited　the　Administratum's　catalogue　of　records。
I　went　with　Medea　to　the　Ministry　of　Interior　Defence。
THERE　ARE　NO　arbites　on　Cadia。　A　permanent　state　of　martial　law　governs　the　world；　and　as　a　result；　all　civil　policing　duties　are
overseen　by　the　Interior　Guard；　a　sub…office　of　the　Cadian　Imperial　Guard　itself。　In　Kasr　Derth；　the　region's　administrative　capital；
their　headquarters　is　the　Ministry　of　Interior　Defence；　a　grey…stone　donjon　adjoining　the　fortress　of　the　martial　governor；　right　at　the
heart　of　Kasr　Derth。
Members　of　the　Interior　Guard　are　chosen　at　random。　Worldwide；　one　in　every　ten　soldiers　recruited　into　the　Cadian　forces　is
transferred　into　the　Interior　force　at　the　end　of　basic　and　preparatory；　whatever　their　achievements　and　promise。　As　a　result；　some　of
the　most　able　troopers　ever　raised　on　this　planet　of　warriors　serve　out　their　time　on　the　home　world　itself；　and　Cadia　boasts　one　of　the
most　effective　and　skilled　planetary　defence　forces　of　any　Imperial　world。
We　were　seen　by　a　Colonel　Ibbet；　a　powerful；　lean　man　in　his　forties　who　looked　like　he　should　have　been　leading　the　charge　into　the
Eye　of　Terror：　He　was　courteous；　but　mistrustful。
'We　have　no　files　on　illegal　or　suspect　immigration。'
'Why　is　that；　colonel？'
'Because　it　doesn't　happen。　The　system　does　not　permit　it。'
'Surely　there　are　unfortunate　exceptions？'
Ibbet；　his　grey　and　white　camoed　uniformed　starched　and　pressed　so　sharply　you　could　have　cut　yourself　on　the　creases；　steepled　his
fingers。
'All　right；　then；'　I　said；　changing　tack。　'What　if　someone　wanted　to　get　onto　the　planet　anonymously？　How　could　that　be　managed？'
'It　couldn't；'　he　said。　He　wasn't　giving　at　all。　'Every　identity　and　visit…purpose　is　logged　and　filed　and　any　infractions　quickly　dealt
with。'
'Then　I'll　start　with　the　files　annotating　those　infractions。'

RESIGNEDLY；　IBBET　SHOWED　us　into　a　codifier　room　and　assigned　us　a　military　clerk　to　take　us　through　the　records。　We　sorted　and
checked　for　about　three　hours；　slowly　becoming　bored　with　the　interminable　lists　of　orbital　boardings；　air…space　interceptions　and
ground…based　raids。　I　could　tell　that　a　thorough　review　of　these　records　alone　was　going　to　take　weeks。
SO　THAT'S　WHAT　we　did。　We　spent　ten　and　a　half　weeks　scouring　the　archives　and　catalogues　of　Kasr　Derth；　working　in　shifts　and
living　out　of　the　quarters　on　the　gun…cutter。　Every　few　days；　we　returned　to　the　Essene　for　a　little　rest　and　reflection。　It　was　the　dead　of
winter　by　the　time　we　were　finished。
FOURTEEN
WINTER　BRINGS　A　CHANCE。
THE　DAMNED　HAS　A　NAME。
THE　PYLON　AT　KASR　GESH。
WINTERTIDE　ON　CADIA。
There　had　been　glinting　ice…floes　in　the　gun…metal　waters　of　the　Caducades　that　morning；　and　light　snow　had　fallen　on　the　moors。　At
that　time　of　year；　the　foul　corona　of　the　Eye　of　Terror　was　visible　even　during　the　fleeting　hours　of　daylight。　The　unholy　mauve
radiance　of　the　nights　became　a　violet　fuzz　in　the　cold　daylight；　like　a　badly…blotted　ink　stain　on　white　paper。
It　made　us　feel　like　we　were　under　surveillance　all　the　time。　The　Eye；　bloodshot；　angry；　peering　down　at　us。
Worst　of　all　were　the　moor　winds；　cold　and　sharp　as　a　Cadian's　bayonet；　blowing　down　from　arctic　latitudes。　The　high　lakes　were　all
frozen　now；　and　lethal　pogonip　fogs　haunted　the　bitter　heaths　and　uplands。　In　the　Kasr　itself；　it　seemed　like　the　locals　had　a　morbid
fear　of　heaters　or　window　insulation。
Chilly　gales　breathed　down　the　hallways　of　the　minster　and　the　Admin…istratum　building。　Water　froze　in　the　pipes。
Despite　it　all；　the　war…bells　sounded　every　few　days；　and　the　moors　rolled　with　the　sounds　of　winter　manoeuvres。　I　began　to　imagine
that　the　Cadians　were　simply　shooting　at　each　other　to　keep　warm。
Ten　and　a　half　long；　increasingly　cold　weeks　after　we　had　begun　our　systematic　search　of　the　Kasr's　records；　I　was　making　my　now
habitual　morning　walk　from　the　minster　of　the　Inquisition　to　the　headquarters　of　the　Interior　Guard。　I　wore　a　thick　fur　coat　against　the
cold；　and　spike…soled