Dark Disciple(科幻战争)- 第1部分

　　　




　　　　
《Dark　Disciple（科幻战争）》
作者：＇英＇Anthony　Reynolds【完结】




Synopsis　（英文书籍文案）　

Marduk；　aspiring　Dark　Apostle　of　the　XVII　Legion　of　the　Word　Bearers；　has　an　ancient　and　deadly　artefact　in　his　possession。　However；　its　secrets　remain　locked　within　itself。　He　and　his　Chaos　Space　Marines　travel　to　the　ice　moon　called　Perdus　Skylla。　The　moon　is　being　evacuated　of　it　Imperial　people。　Three　days　is　estimated　before　the　xenos　fleet　makes　planetfall。　The　Imperials　cannot　evacuate　all　in　time；　but　as　many　people　as　possible　are　to　be　rescued　before　the　dreaded　command；　Exterminatus；　is　ordered。　Somewhere　on　Perdus　Skylla　is　an　Adeptus　Mechanicus　with　eight　hundred　years　of　knowledge　hidden　within　her　mind；　knowledge　that　Marduk　requires　to　unlock　the　artefact's　dark　powers。

As　Marduk　and　his　brethren　search　the　moon；　the　Dark　Apostle　must　keep　wary　eyes　upon　Kol　Badar；　the　Host's　Coryphaus；　who　hates　Marduk　with　every　bit　of　his　black　soul。　Marduk　had　killed　Kol　Badar's　blood　brother　and　he　refuses　to　rest　until　Marduk　is　made　to　pay　for　it。

All　does　not　go　well　on　Perdus　Skylla　for　anyone。　Their　Imperial　enemies　not　only　deal　with　a　timely　evacuation；　but　also　with　the　dark　eldar　who　are　already　on　the　moon　claiming　bodies　and　souls。　The　traitor　marines　will　not　only　have　to　find　their　target；　but　also　get　themselves　and　the　gained　knowledge　through　Eldar　and　Imperial　forces　before　the　xenos　fleet　arrives　and　the　moon　is　destroyed。







PROLOGUE
It　felt　like　his　body　was　on　fire。　Every　nerve　ending　was　awash　with　agony。　He　had　never　dreamed
that　such　excruciating　torment　could　be　possible。
A　shadow　leant　over　him；　the　image　of　death　itself：　skeletal；　hateful；　merciless。　Eyes　as　black　as
pits　bored　into　him；　savouring　his　torment。
“Your　suffering　is　only　just　beginning；”　it　promised；　its　voice　matter…of…fact　and　even。
Needles　plunged　into　his　veins。
Then　the　prisoner　heard　a　cry；　the　bestial　roar　of　an　animal　in　pain；　and　it　took　him　a　moment　to
realise　that　it　originated　from　his　own　raw　throat。
Blades　slid　from　the　tips　of　Death’s　long　fingers　and　sliced　through　his　skin；　each　deft　incision
drawing　forth　a　wave　of　pain。　Blood　welled　beneath　each　cut　and　was　hungrily　sucked　up　into　tiny
tubes　attached　to　the　grooved　scalpel　blades。　The　tubes　ran　along　the　back　of　Death’s　fingers　and
joined　the　protruding　veins　on　the　backs　of　his　hands；　feeding　the　filtered　vitae　into　its　bloodstream。
“Give　in　to　the　pain；”　it　said　calmly。　“Beg　for　mercy。”
He　gritted　his　teeth；　and　felt　the　metallic　taste　of　blood　on　his　lips。　The　vision　of　death　leant
closer。
“Fear　me；”　it　whispered；　and　fresh　agony　jabbed　through　his　body。
A　needle　appeared　in　front　of　his　left　eye；　its　barbed　tip　dripping　with　fluid。　His　muscles　strained
to　turn　away；　but　his　head　was　held　fast；　and　he　could　do　nothing　as　the　needle　was　pushed
agonisingly　slowly　into　the　soft　tissue　of　his　eyeball。　He　hissed　as　it　slid　through　his　pupil　and　deep
into　his　cornea。
The　prisoner　whispered　something；　and　his　tormentor　turned；　straining　to　hear。
“You　will　never　break　me；”　the　prisoner　said　again；　this　time　with　more　force。　“Pain　holds　no
fear　for　me。”
“Pain？　You　know　nothing　of　it　yet；”　said　his　tormentor　calmly。
Flaps　of　skin　were　teased　back；　exposing　the　vulnerable　flesh　beneath。　Nerve　endings　were
seared　and　his　body　jerked　spasmodically　as　agonised　muscles　tensed　involuntarily。　His　primary
heart　palpitated　erratically　and　the　needle　in　his　eye　twisted；　grinding　against　the　inside　of　the
socket。
“You　will　come　to　fear　me；　in　time；”　mused　the　softly　spoken　image　of　death；　plucking　at　his
captive’s　exposed　tendons；　making　the　fingers　of　his　left　arm　twitch。　“We　are　in　no　rush。”
Memories　struggled　to　surface　on　the　edge　of　the　prisoner’s　mind。　He　tried　to　grasp　them；　but
they　were　as　elusive　as　shadow；　taunting　him；　just　out　of　reach。
Fresh　agonies　assailed　the　captive　as　dozens　of　barbed　needles　stabbed　into　his　spinal　column；
sliding　between　his　vertebrae　and　plunging　into　the　tender　flesh　within。
Darkness　rose　to　claim　him；　but　he　fought　it　with　all　his　being；　straining　to　possess　the　elusive
memories　that　hovered　just　beyond　his　reach。
Abruptly；　a　name　rose　to　his　lips　from　the　very　depths　of　his　being。
His　name。
“Marduk；”　he　whispered。　Fresh　strength　flowed　through　him　as　the　dam　holding　his　memories　at
bay　broke。　He　smiled；　his　sharp　teeth　stained　with　blood。
“My　faith　is　strong；”　Marduk　whispered　hoarsely。　“You　will　not　break　me。”
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“Every　living　thing　can　be　broken；”　said　his　tormentor；　black　eyes　gleaming。　“Everything　begs
for　death　come　the　end。　You　and　I；　we　will　find　that　point　together。　You　will　beg　come　the　end。
They　all　do。”
“Not　in　this　lifetime；”　snarled　Marduk。　Then　his　eyes　rolled　back　in　his　head　and　he　succumbed
to　darkness；　a　bloody　grin　on　his　face。
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BOOK　ONE：
PERDUS　SKYLLA
“In　true　faith　there　is　enough　light　for　those　who　want　to　believe；　and　enough　shadow　to　blind　those
fools　that　don’t。”
—Apostate　Evangelistae　Paskaell
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CHAPTER　ONE
Machion…Dex；　Procurator　of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus　archive　facility　of　Kharion　IV；　strode　across
the　grilled　deck；　his　footsteps　echoing　loudly　through　the　enclosed　space。　Ten　expressionless　skitarii
warriors　marched　in　a　protective　cordon　around　him；　hellguns　hard…wired　into　their　brainstems　held
at　the　ready　in　black…gloved；　augmetic　hands。
The　procurator　came　to　a　halt　mid…deck；　alongside　an　array　of　cogitator　banks　that　rose　from　the
floor。　A　blank　data…screen　reflected　his　image　back　at　him。　A　servitor；　nothing　left　of　its　original
body　other　than　a　head　and　torso　of　morbidly　pale　flesh；　was　plugged　directly　with　the　logicengines。
Ribbed　tubes　connected　its　eye…sockets　to　the　data…slate；　and　clusters　of　wires　and　cables
ran　from　its　severed　torso　into　the　machine’s　innards。
The　skitarii　warrior…units　broke　into　two　groups　and　stepped　out　to　either　side　of　Machion…Dex
to　form　a　corridor；　their　movements　in　perfect；　robotic　synchronicity。　They　moved　to　within　a　metre
of　a　strip　of　yellow　and　black　hazard　stripes　upon　a　plate　bisecting　the　room。　Their　heavy　boots
stamped　as　they　came　to　attention；　awaiting　their　next　command。
Machion…Dex　folded　his　arms　across　his　chest。　He　wore　a　vermillion　tabard　over　a　black
bodysuit；　its　hems　stitched　with　bronze　wire；　and　his　head　was　shaved　to　the　scalp。　Cables　and
clusters　of　wires　sank　into　the　flesh　around　the　base　of　his　skull；　and　a　tattoo　of　a　cogwheel；　half
black　and　half　white；　was　emblazoned　on　his　forehead。
“Initiate　lock…down；”　he　said　to　the　servitor；　which　twitched　in　response。
A　series　of　red　glow…globes　began　to　strobe；　and　to　the　sound　of　wailing　klaxons；　heavy…duty
plasteel　blast　doors；　half　a　metre　thick　and　containing　a　sandwiched　core　of　interlaced　adamantine；
slammed　down　from　the　ceiling　in　front　of　the　procurator　and　his　entourage。　Secondary　layers　of
reinforced　ceramite　dropped　down　on　either　side　of　the　main　blast　doors　with　a　crash；　and　tertiary
armoured　plates　of　thirty…centimetre　thermaplas　slid　from　wall　recesses；　slamming　together　with
titanic　force。
Pistons　wheezed　as　arcane　locking　mechanisms　rotated　and　clinched　shut；　sealing　off　the　sole
entrance　into　the　installation　of　Kharion　IV。　Not　even　half　a　kiloton　of　military　grade　explosive
would　be　able　to　penetrate　those　doors　without　destroying　half　of　the　asteroid　that　the　installation
was　embedded　within。
The　blaring　klaxons　stopped　abruptly；　along　with　the　flashing　red　warning　lights。
“Connect　screen　feed；”　said　Machion…Dex；　and　the　servitor　twitched　again。
The　blank　data…screen　before　the　procurator　burst　into　life；　covered　in　a　snowstorm　of　static。
Machion…Dex　murmured　a　blessing　to　the　Omnissiah　and　pressed　a　ritualistic　sequence　of　buttons
upon　the　data…slate’s　side　panel。　A　green；　pixellated　image　of　the　room　beyond　the　blast　doors
appeared　on　the　screen’s　surface。
The　procurator　folded　his　arms；　and　the　fingers　of　his　right　hand　began　to　tap　a　nervous　rhythm
on　his　bicep　as　he　waited　for　his　guest’s　arrival。
The　walls　of　the　room　beyond　the　blast　doors　were　scorched　black；　and　half　a　dozen　automated
heavy　flamers　rotated　in　their　mounts；　aiming　towards　the　circular　bulkhead　on　the　far　wall。　The
pilot…flames　of　the　weapons　burnt　hot　white　on　the　green　data…slate　screen。
There　was　a　shuddering　clang　beyond　the　bulkhead　as　the　access　artery　connecting　to　the
docking　facility　clamped　into　position。　There　followed　a　burst　of　superheated　steam　that　partially
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obscured　Machion…Dex’s　view　of　the　audience　room；　and　a　pair　of　lights　located　above　the　bulkhead
began　to　rotate；　sending　shadows　dancing　across　the　fire…blackened　walls。
The　circular　locking　mechanism　located　in　the　centre　of　the　bulkhead　clicked　outwards　and
rotated　a　full　turn　clockwise；　before　turning　half　a　turn　anticlockwise　and　sinking　back　into　its
recess。　Then；　with　a　shuddering　groan；　the　bulkhead　doors　slid　aside。
There　was　a　hiss　as　atmospheric　pressure　equalised；　and　Machion…Dex　leant　forwards；　squinting
at　the　image　on　his　data…screen。　At　first；　nothing　could　be　seen　beyond　the　gaping　aperture　revealed
by　the　parting　bulkhead　doors；　and　the　darkness　there　was　heavily　pixellated　and　vague。　Then　a
bulky　robed　and　hooded　shape　appeared。
A　single；　unblinking　light　shone　from　beneath　its　hood；　positioned　where　a　left　eye　would　have
been。　It　limped　down　the　fire…blackened　steps　to　the　metal　grilled　mechanical　floor。　Four　massive
individuals　accompanied　it；　they　too　were　heavily　robed；　their　faces　obscured　by　deep　hoods。　They
turned　their　heads　to　regard　the　heavy　flamers　that　rotated　to　fix　upon　them。
The　lead　figure　limped　across　the　room；　unconcerned；　and　came　to　a　halt　before　the　blast　doors。
“Blessings　of　the　Omnissiah　upon　you；”　it　intoned；　looking　up　at　the　armoured　relay　camera　box
positioned　above　it。　Up　close；　Machion…Dex　could　see　the　cogged　wheel　symbol　of　the　Adeptus
Mechanicus　upon　its　chest。
“And　upon　you；　servant　of　the　Machine　God　Incarnate；”　replied　the　procurator；　speaking　into　a
grilled　vox…unit。
“Knowledge　is　the　supreme　manifestation　of　divinity；”　said　Machion…Dex；　invoking　the　sixth　of
the　Mysteries；　one　of　the　six