Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)- 第1部分

　　　




　　　　
《Storm　Of　Iron（科幻战争）》
作者：　＇英＇Graham　McNeill【完结】




Synopsis　（英文书籍文案）　

Ten　thousand　years　ago；　the　Imperium　of　mankind　was　riven　by　a　great　schism。　The　Warmaster　Horus；　tainted　by　the　corrupting　powers　of　the　warp；　turned　against　the　Emperor；　and　attempted　to　wrest　control　of　the　entire　galaxy　using　Space　Marines　who　he　had　persuaded　of　the　righteousness　of　his　cause。
Although　foul　Horus　was　eventually　defeated；　his　legions　of　Traitor　Marines　continue　to　fight　in　his　name；　serving　the　Chaos　Powers。　Now　a　new　Warmaster　has　arisen；　with　plans　to　bring　all　of　the　galaxy　under　the　dominion　of　his　undying　masters；　and　the　corrupted　ranks　of　the　Iron　Warriors　are　readying　for　battle。





PROLOGUE
THE　ELECTRO…CANDLES　in　the　astropaths'　chamber　were　kept　dim；　though　its　occupants　neither　cared　nor　were　aware　of　their
surroundings；　their　eyes　long　since　burned　from　their　sockets。　The　aroma　of　sacred　incense　filled　the　chamber；　the　quiet　hum　of
machinery　and　the　scratching　of　a　score　of　tonsured　quill…servitors　the　only　sounds。
The　servitors　sat　facing　each　other　in　two　rows；　hunched　over　gnarled　lecterns；　their　ink…stained　fingers　darting　across　parchments
as　information　poured　into　what　remained　of　their　minds　and　out　through　their　calloused　hands。　Behind　each　servitor　stood　an
angled；　brass　capsule；　sparkling　like　a　gleaming　coffin。　Golden　wires　trailed　from　each　one's　frosted　surface　and　ribbed　cabling
snaked　from　their　sides；　running　in　long　lines　along　the　chamber's　edge。
A　hunched　figure；　swathed　in　the　red　robes　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　with　gold　lettering　stitched　along　the　hem　made　his　way
slowly　along　the　stone…flagged　nave　towards　the　chamber's　end；　pausing　every　now　and　then　to　peruse　the　elegant　scriptwork　of　a
servitor。　Shadows　hid　the　adept's　face；　the　telltale　gleam　of　bronze　all　that　was　visible　beneath　his　thick　hood。　He　stopped　beside
the　furthest　servitor；　examining　the　expressionless　features　of　the　lobotomised　slave。　Its　quill　hand　was　making　quick；　angular
patterns　over　the　page。
He　moved　past　the　servitor；　coming　to　stand　before　the　golden　coffin　device　behind　it。　A　coiled　bundle　of　fine　wires　trailed　from
the　top　of　the　coffin　to　a　series　of　plug…in　sockets　drilled　in　the　back　of　the　servitor's　skull。
The　adept　wiped　a　black…gloved　hand　across　the　glistening　surface　of　the　golden　coffin　and　stared　through　a　misted　glass　panel。
Inside；　a　young　female　astrotelepath　lay　recumbent；　her　emaciated　body　fitted　with　transparent　cables　that　fed　her　nutrients　and
chemical　stimms；　and　removed　her　bodily　waste。　Like　the　quill…servitor；　she　was　eyeless；　her　lips　moving　in　a　soundless　whisper。
The　telepathic　message　she　was　receiving　from　half　a　galaxy　away　passed　from　her　to　the　quill…servitor　along　psychically…warded
cables　and　thence　to　its　wiry　fingers；　where　the　message　finally　became　tangible　on　the　blessed　parchment。
The　adept　removed　a　small　vial　of　amber　liquid　from　beneath　his　robes；　easing　past　the　girl's　prison　and　kneeling　beside　the
massed　rows　of　pulsing　cables　attached　to　its　rear。　He　picked　through　a　handful　of　tubing　and　sorted　through　it；　at　last　finding　the
one　he　sought。　He　disconnected　the　nutrient　tube　from　the　back　of　the　girl's　capsule　and　broke　the　seal　of　the　vial；　careful　not　to
allo。
The　adept　held　up　the　disconnected　pipe；　gruel…like　nutrients　oozing　from　its　end；　and　emptied　out　a　portion　onto　the　floor。　He
carefully　poured　the　vial's　contents　into　the　pipe；　allowing　it　to　seep　into　the　colourless　jelly　before　reconnecting　the　pipe　to　the
capsule。　Satisfied；　he　stood　and　returned　to　the　nave　as　the　amber　liquid　began　working　its　way　around　the　chamber；　flowing
through　the　nutrient　pipes　to　each　of　the　astropaths'　capsules。
Swiftly　he　made　his　way　to　the　chamber's　door；　pausing　as　he　opened　it　to　listen。
He　smiled　beneath　his　hood　as；　one　by　one；　the　scratching　of　quills　was　silenced。
BRIDGEHEAD
ONE
THE　EMPEROR　DAMN　Major　Tedeski's　soul　to　the　warp；　thought　Guardsman　Hawke　bitterly　as　he　huddled　closer　to　the　plasma
wave　generator　that　provided　what　little　heat　there　was　in　the　cramped　surveyor　station。　With　no　small　measure　of　glee；　he
imagined　putting　a　las…bolt　into　the　back　of　his　company　commander's　head　as　he　stalked　up　and　down　the　ash…coated　esplanades
of　Tor　Christo。
One　thing！　Just　one　little　thing　and　Tedeski　had　busted　them　from　a　cushy　little　number　up　on　Tor　Christo；　free　from　interfering
officers；　to　this　damn　place！
He　glanced　without　interest　at　the　sensor　display　before　him；　noting　with　boredom　that　…　surprise；　surprise！　…　there　was　nothing
happening　outside。
As　if　anyone　in　their　right　mind　would　want　to　try　and　attack　Hydra　Cordatus。　A　single　crumbling　citadel　on　a　damned　dusty　rock；
bleaker　than　a　killer's　heart；　with　nothing　of　remote　interest　to　anyone。　Least　of　all；　Guardsman　Hawke。
People　didn't　come　to　Hydra　Cordatus　voluntarily：　they　ended　up　here。
He　sat　inside　the　cold；　cramped　confines　of　one　of　the　sixteen　mountain　surveyor　stations　that　ringed　Jericho　Falls　spaceport；　the
one　lifeline　this　place　had　with　the　outside　world。　The　machines　housed　here　constantly　swept　for　the　approach　of　any　would…be
attackers。　Not　that　there　ever　would　be；　even　if　they　knew　about　the　citadel。
It　was　a　nightmare　detail　to　be　posted　here　and　everyone　knew　it。　The　heaters　barely　worked；　the　deafening　roar　of　the　scouring
wind　as　it　howled　down　from　the　high　peaks　was　maddening；　there　was　nothing　to　do　and　the　sheer　boredom　could　drive　even　the
strongest　willed　to　despair。　The　only　thing　there　was　to　do　was　watch　the　machines　and　report　the　odd　spike　on　the　display　slate。
He　cursed　his　foul　luck　and　went　back　to　imagining　new　and　inventive　ways　of　busting　Tedeski's　head。
Sure；　so　they　had　turned　up　for　duty　pretty　badly　hung…over。　Well；　probably　still　drunk　from　the　night　before；　truth　be　told。　But　it
wasn't　as　though　there　was　anything　else　to　do　on　this　Emperor…damned　rock。　It　wasn't　as　if　they'd　been　entrusted　with　some　kind
of　top…secret；　highly　important　mission。　They　were　just　on　the　early　watch　before　changeover。　By　the　Throne；　they'd　turned　up　for
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
duty　drunk　before　and　had　never　had　any　problems。
It　was　just　bad　luck　that　Tedeski　had　pulled　an　alert　drill　that　morning　and　the　three　of　them　had　been　caught　sound　asleep　on　the
Christo's　walls。　Bad　luck　as　it　was；　they　counted　themselves　lucky　they　hadn't　been　caught　by　Castellan　Vauban。
They'd　received　a　roasting　from　Major　Tedeski；　and　here　they　were：　stuck　in　the　mountains　in　a　rockcrete　can；　looking　for　enemies
who　would　never　come。
He　sat　alone　for　now。　His　two　companions　in　misery　were　out　in　the　dust…stained　rocks；　some　hundred　metres　in　front　of　the　post。
He　rose　from　beside　the　ineffective　heater；　stamping　his　feet　and　slapping　his　arms　around　himself　in　a　futile　effort　to　warm　up；
then　stepped　closer　to　the　rockcrete　walls　of　the　miniature　bunker。　He　peered　through　what　were　…　laughably　…　named　vision
blocks；　over　the　stubby　firing　grip　of　the　rear　assault　cannon；　to　see　if　he　could　spot　either　of　his　two　fellow　victims　of　Tedeski's
wrath。
After　a　few　minutes　he　gave　up　in　disgust。　He　couldn't　see　a　fragging　thing　through　the　swirling　dust。　They'd　be　lucky　if　they
found　anything　in　that　grey　soup。　One　tiny　spike　had　registered　on　the　display　and　they'd　drawn　straws　to　see　which　lucky　pair
would　venture　outside　and　check　it　out。
Thank　the　Emperor　he'd　cheated　and　didn't　have　to　leave　the　meagre　warmth　of　the　post。　The　others　had　been　gone　for　nearly　half
an　hour　and　he　realised　it　was　about　time　he　checked　in　with　them。　He　thumbed　the　dial　on　the　vox…panel；　'Hitch；　Charedo？　You
two　find　anything　out　there？'
He　turned　the　dial　to　''receive''　and　waited　for　a　response。
The　white　hiss　of　static　poured　from　the　battered　vox；　filling　the　surveyor　station　with　a　haunting；　empty　noise。　He　turned　the　dial
again；　staring　through　the　vision　blocks　and　fingering　the　trigger　guard　on　the　assault　cannon。
'Hey；　you　two。　If　you're　okay；　answer　me。　Do　you　copy？'
Static　came　again　and　he　anxiously　flicked　the　external　cannon's　safety　off。　He　was　ready　to　call　again　when　the　vox　barked　into
life　and　he　laughed　with　relief。
'You　gotta　be　kidding；　Hawke。　There　ain't　a　damned　thing　out　here　except　us！'　said　a　voice　that；　despite　the　roaring　of　the　wind；　he
recognised　as　belonging　to　Guardsman　Hitch。　The　distortion　on　the　soldier's　voice　was　thickening　so　he　adjusted　the　controls；
relieved　to　hear　a　friendly　voice。
'Yeah；　I　figured　that；'　he　replied。　'Miserable　out　there；　I　bet！'　he　laughed。
'Frag　you；　man！'　snapped　Hitch。　'We're　freezing　our　backsides　off　out　here。　Sod　this；　huh？'
Hawke　chuckled　to　himself　as　Hitch　swore　again。
'There's　nothing　here。　It　must　be　a　surveyor　fault　or　something。　We're　right　where　we're　supposed　to　be　and　there　ain't　a　damn
thing　alive　for　kilometres　around　us。'
'You're　sure　you're　in　the　right　place？'　asked　Hawke。
'Of　course　I'm　fragging　sure！'　shouted　Hitch。　'I　can　read　a　map；　you　know。　We're　not　all　as　stupid　as　you。'
'Don't　bet　on　it；　Hitchy…boy！'　said　Hawke；　enjoying　his　comrade's　annoyance。
'There's　nothing　out　here；'　cursed　Hitch；　'we're　coming　bac