Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第29部分

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Magos　Yelede's　robes；　hauling　him　to　his　feet。
'Come　on；　Yelede。　Time　to　earn　your　keep。'
Tedeski　dragged　the　reluctant　magos　from　the　control　centre；　through　a　maze　of　corridors　and　security　sealed　barriers　before
descending　in　a　key…controlled　elevator　to　the　power　chamber　far　below　the　keep。　As　the　elevator　rumbled　downwards；　a
pounding　vibration　shook　the　elevator　car；　the　lights　flickering　and　metal　squealing　as　it　ground　against　the　walls　of　the　shaft。
'What　the　hell？'　began　Tedeski　as　the　elevator　began　its　downward　journey　again。
No　sooner　had　the　elevator　doors　opened　than　Tedeski　pushed　Magos　Yelede　out　into　the　featureless　grey　corridor　that　led
towards　the　reactor　chamber。　He　tried　to　raise　Captain　Poulsen　and　the　rest　of　his　company　commanders　on　the　vox；　but　met　with
no　success　and　his　worry　grew　with　each　step。
The　powerful　shockwave　had　felt　like　some　vast；　underground　detonation　and　as　far　as　he　knew　there　was　only　one　way　such　a
detonation　could　have　occurred。　But　surely　Castellan　Vauban　would　never　have　allowed　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　to　destroy　the
tunnel　and　cut　off　thousands　of　men　from　their　retreat？　A　terrible　sinking　feeling　settled　in　his　gut　and　he　fervently　hoped　his
suspicions　were　unfounded。
At　last　they　arrived　at　the　main　doors　to　the　reactor　chamber　and　Tedeski　stood　aside　to　allow　the　machine　priest　to　access　the
entry　controls。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
'Open　the　damn　door！'　snapped　Tedeski　when　Yelede　failed　to　move。
'I　cannot；　Major　Tedeski。'
'What？　Why　the　hell　not？'
'I　have　been　given　instructions　not　to　allow　this　facility　to　be　destroyed。'
Tedeski　slammed　Yelede　against　the　wall　and　drew　his　bolt　pistol；　shouting；　'If　you　don't　open　that　door；　I　will　shoot　you　in　the
head！'
'Anything　you　can　threaten　me　with　is　irrelevant；　major；'　protested　Yelede。　'I　have　been　given　a　sacred　order　by　my　superiors　and　I
cannot　disobey　it。　Our　word　is　iron。'
'And　my　bolt　is　0。75　calibre；　diamantine　tipped　with　a　depleted　uranium　core　and　if　you　don't　open　this　bloody　door　right　now；　I
will　fire　it　through　your　poor　excuse　for　a　brain。　Now　open　the　damn　door！'
'I　cannot—'　began　Yelede　as　a　roaring　screech　of　tearing　metal　ripped　along　the　corridor。　The　two　men　watched　as　an　enormous；
crackling　fist　tore　open　the　elevator　doors　and　a　gigantic　figure　stepped　through；　filling　the　corridor　with　its　bulk。
Almost　three　metres　tall；　the　huge　figure　took　a　step　into　the　light　and　Tedeski　felt　his　heart　hammer　against　his　chest。　The　figure
wore　a　bloodstained　suit　of　iron…grey　Terminator　armour；　slashed　with　diagonal　chevrons　of　black　and　yellow　stripes。　The　helmet
was　carved　in　the　shape　of　a　snarling　jackal；　and　his　molten　chestplate　bore　the　visored　skull…mask　of　the　Iron　Warriors。
Yelede　whimpered　in　fear　and　squirmed　free　of　Tedeski's　grasp；　swiftly　pressing　his　palm　to　the　identification　slate。
'Blessed　Machine；　I　abjure　thee　to　grant　your　unworthy　servant　entry　to　your　holy　sanctum；　to　your　beating　heart；'　said　Yelede；　the
words　coming　out　in　a　desperate　rash。
'Hurry　up；　for　the　Emperor's　sake！'　hissed　Tedeski　as　the　Terminator　lumbered　towards　them。　More　enemy　clambered　from　the
wrecked　elevator　car；　following　their　leader。　Tedeski　fired　a　short　burst　from　his　bolt　pistol；　but　the　heavy　suits　of　armour　were
impervious。
The　reactor　room　door　slid　smoothly　open　and　Tedeski　and　Yelede　gratefully　ducked　inside　as　it　slammed　shut　behind　them。
Tedeski　pushed　Yelede　towards　the　centre　of　the　chamber　where　a　tall　podium　with　a　dozen　thick　brass　rods　set　into　grooves　on
the　floor　pulsed　with　energy。
Tedeski　dragged　the　protesting　magos　towards　this　arrangement　and　pointed　his　pistol　at　his　head。
'Give　me　any　more　trouble　and　I　will　kill　you。　Do　you　understand？'
Yelede　nodded；　what　little　flesh　remained　of　his　face　twisted　in　fear。　The　magos　jumped　as　thundering　impacts　slammed　into　the
door　and　the　inner　face　bulged　inwards。　Quickly；　he　ran　to　the　brass　columns　and　pressed　his　palm　into　the　top　of　the　first；　twisting
it　and　chanting　a　prayer　of　forgiveness　to　the　Omnissiah。　He　climbed　onto　the　central　dais　and　rotated　several　cogged　dials。
Tedeski　fought　for　calm　as　the　first　brass　column　rose　from　the　floor；　steam　hissing　from　the　newly　revealed　metal。　Warning
klaxons　blared　and　a　stream　of　words；　meaningless　to　Tedeski；　issued　from　a　pair　of　speakers　mounted　on　the　dais。
'Can't　you　do　this　any　faster？'　hissed　Tedeski　urgently　as　the　door　buckled　inwards　again。
'I　am　going　as　fast　as　I　can。　Without　the　proper　ministrations　to　appease　the　machine　spirits　that　invest　the　reactor；　I　will　not　be
able　to　persuade　them　to　aid　us。'
'Then　don't　waste　time　talking　to　me；'　snapped　Tedeski　as　another　hammer…blow　slammed　into　the　door。
FORRIX　SMASHED　HIS　power　fist　into　the　door；　feeling　the　layered　metal　starting　to　give。　He　knew　he　did　not　have　much　time。　The
Warsmith's　captured　magos　had　told　them　of　the　capacity　of　Tor　Christo's　commander　to　destroy　the　fortress　and　Forrix　was　under
no　illusions　as　to　what　the　two　men　within　this　chamber　were　attempting　to　do。
His　warriors　gathered　behind　him；　impatient　to　kill　their　prey　and　begin　refortifying　this　place。　He　slammed　his　fist　against　the
door　again；　feeling　the　metal　crumple　beneath　his　assault。　He　gripped　the　twisted　metal　and　pulled；　tearing　the　door　from　its
mounting　with　a　roar　of　triumph。　Forrix　pushed　through　the　doorway　to　see　a　magos　in　white　robes　ministering　to　a　machine　in　the
centre　of　the　chamber；　and　a　one…armed　Imperial　Guard　officer　standing　beside　him。　The　man　fired　his　bolt　pistol　and　Forrix
grinned　as　he　felt　the　ringing　impacts　against　his　thick　armour。　He　felt　a　sensation　he　had　not　known　in　many　centuries；　but
recognised　as　pain。
He　raised　his　own　weapon　and　squeezed　off　a　short　burst；　the　shells　taking　the　magos　between　the　shoulders；　disintegrating　his
torso　and　blasting　him　clear　of　the　dais　in　a　welter　of　blood　and　bone。
The　Guard　officer　turned　and　leapt　towards　the　dais；　fumbling　with　the　brass　columns；　vainly　attempting　to　complete　what　the
magos　had　begun。　Forrix　laughed　at　the　man's　efforts　and　shot　him　in　the　leg；　toppling　him　to　the　floor　with　a　scream　of　pain。　He
deactivated　the　energy　field　surrounding　his　power　fist　and　lifted　the　howling　officer　from　the　ground；　hurling　him　to　a　waiting
Terminator。
Forrix　mounted　the　dais　and　saw　that　they　had　cut　it　close；　a　few　more　minutes　and　Tor　Christo　would　have　been　reduced　to　a
useless　molten　ruin。　He　put　a　bolt　through　each　of　the　wall…mounted　speakers　and　the　screaming　klaxons　were　silenced。
'Replace　the　rods。　It　will　prevent　the　reactor　blowing；'　he　said　to　another　of　his　Terminators　and　strode　from　the　room。
Tor　Christo　had　fallen。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
THE　SECOND　PARALLEL
ONE
As　LIEUTENANT　COLONEL　Leonid　entered　the　Sepulchre　the　flame　at　the　end　of　the　taper　wavered　in　the　draft　that　gusted　in　from
the　open　door。　Kneeling　before　a　basalt　statue　of　the　Emperor　in　the　chapel's　ossuary；　Castellan　Vauban　cupped　the　flame　behind
his　hand；　shielding　it　from　the　wind　and　lit　a　candle　for　the　men　of　Battalion　A；　as　he　had　done　every　day　for　the　last　six　days　since
Tor　Christo　had　fallen。
Leonid　kept　a　respectful　distance　from　his　commanding　officer；　awaiting　the　completion　of　his　ministrations　to　the　dead；　and
Vauban　was　grateful　for　his　officer's　understanding。
The　grim　tower　known　as　the　Sepulchre　stood　on　the　north…western　slopes　of　the　mountains；　high　above　the　citadel。　Constructed
of　smooth；　black　marble；　veined　with　threads　of　gold；　it　was　a　tall；　hollow　tube；　some　thirty　metres　in　diameter　and　a　hundred
high。　Its　inner　walls　were　studded　with　hundreds　of　ossuaries　containing　the　bleached　bones　of　every　man　who　had　borne　the　title
of　castellan。　It　had　been　a　great　comfort　to　Vauban　to　imagine　that　one　day　he　too　would　have　a　place　of　honour　amongst　the
immortal　dead；　but　he　knew　that　was　nothing　but　a　dream。　In　all　likelihood；　he　would　end　his　days　as　a　desiccated　corpse
somewhere　below　in　the　citadel；　murdered　by　this　infernal　foe。　The　thought　of　his　bones　scoured　clean　by　the　dust　storms　of　this
planet　filled　him　with　great　melancholy。
The　entire　floor　was　a　polished　disc　of　solid　brass；　its　surface　etched　with　intricate　traceries　and　swirling　lines　that　looped
gracefully　across　its　surface；　weaving　and　intersecting　in　a　beguiling　dance。　It　looked　like　a　puzzle　where　the　solution；　if　there
even　was　one；　was　forever　elusive。　Vauban　knew　it　was　possible　to　happily　lose　several　hours　trying　to　untangle　the　design　with
your　eyes；　but　he　had　long　ago　decided　that　it　was　a　mystery　he　would　never　solve。
He　rose　from　his　knees；　wincing　as　his　joints　cracked　painfully。　War　was　a　young　man's　game　and　he　was　too　old　to　bear　the
horrors　being　placed　before　him。　He　bowed　towards　the　Emperor's　graven　image　and　whispered；　'Lord　Emperor；　give　me　the
strength　to　do　your　bidding。　I　am　but　a　man；　with　a　man's　courage；　and　need　your　holy　wisdom　to　guide　me　in　this；　our　time　of
need。'
The　statue　remained　silent　and　the　commander　of　Hydra　Cordatus　turned　on　his　heel；　marching　towards　the　door　to　the　outer
chambers　of　the　Sepulchre。
Vauban　thought　he　had　known　anguish　as　he　had　watched　the　scenes　of　destruction　at　Jericho　Falls　and　on　the　plains　when　the
Iron　Warriors　had　tricked　the　gunners　at　Tor　Christo　into　shelling　their　own　men。
But　with　the　fall　of　Tor　Christo　and　the　death　of　nearly　seven　thousand　men；　he　knew　the　true　depths　of　misery。　So　many　dead；
and　the　battle　not　yet　over。
He　nodded　to　Leonid　as　he　passed；　his　second…in…command　closing　the　door　to　the　candlelit　house　of　the　dead。　The　outer
chambers　of　the　Sepulchre　were　light　and　airily　constructed；　as　though　the　architects　had　understood　that　the　human　mind　could
absorb　only　so　much　grief；　and　that　there　were　times　when　it　was　good　to　rejoice　in　the　immortality　of　the　spirit。
Bright　glow…globes；　set　behind　arched　windows　of　stained　glass；　threw　gold　and　azure　light　across　the　marble…flagged　floor。
Vauban　paused　to　admire　the　handiwork　of　artists　dead　these　last　ten　millennia。　Scenes　of　battle　were　played　out　above　him
alongside　images　of　the　Emperor　ascending　to　his　throne　and　feats　of　bravery　of　long…dead　Space　Marine　heroes。
'Beautiful；　aren't　they？'　whispered　Vauban。
'Yes；　sir；　they　are；'　affirmed　Leonid。
'Sad　then；　that　they　will　be　destroyed。'
'Sir？'
Vauban　returned　his　gaze　to　his　second…in…command　with　a　sad　smile。　'I　think　our　enemies　would　as　soon　see　this　place　reduced　to
dust；　don't　you；　Mikhail？'
'Possibly；'　conceded　Leonid；　bitterly。　'But　as　long　as　we　are　not　betrayed　by　one　man's　lust　for　glory；　or　anomer's　cowardice；　we
shall　make　them　pay　for　every　metre　they　advance。'
Vauban　could　understand　Leonid's　venom。　Princeps　Fierach　had　doomed　nearly　two　thousand　men　to　death　when　his　Titans　had
abandoned　the　Jourans　to　hunt　the　corrupted　Imperator　Titan。　Those　Titans　that　had　survived　the　battle　had　wisely　retreated　to
their　armoured　hangars　for　repairs；　their　crews　confined　to　barracks　while　the　Legio's　judiciary　sought　to　apportion　blame　for　the
debacle。　Fierach's　death　made　it　that　much　easier　for　them；　giving　them　a　conveniently　dead　scapegoat。　Princeps　Daekian；
commander　of　the　Warlord　Titan　Honoris　Causa　had　come　be