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say； an atomic strike or a horde of genestealers。 But； in the idiom of Glossia； it would seal you against sudden； spearing； close attacks。
It is also quiet and unremarkable。
And so； quietly； unremarkably； I slipped down the tunnel ways of Cinchare Minehead towards the officium of the Administratum。 I
was stealthy and secretive； and my motion tracker and shotgun were my thimble。
Pattern thimble。 Gideon Ravenor had coined that particular phrase； adding it to the vocabulary of my Glossia。
I thought of Ravenor； alone in his plastic…sheeted cot on Thracian。 My anger； dimmed these last few months； welled。
MY MOTION TRACKER warned me into cover at a junction of transit tunnels about half a kilometre from the plaza。 Hidden behind a
stack of empty promethium drams； I watched as two electric buggies buzzed past； heading towards the concourse area。 Bandelbi was
driving the lead one。 There were two miners with him； and three more in the buggy behind。 They all looked grimy and slovenly。
THERE WERE MORE buggies in the plaza； parked out in front of the security office。 I saw a couple of labourer…types lounging in the
building doorway； smoking lho…sticks。
I slipped into the miner's welfare through the back。 Medea and Aemos were waiting for me in the shabby rec…room billet。
'Well？'
'We nosed around the Administratum；' said Aemos。 'It wasn't even locked。'
'Then the place started to crawl with Kaleil's people and we skedaddled；' said Medea。 Both of them looked tense and pensive。
'They see you？'
She shook her head。 'But there is a damn sight more than twenty of them。 I counted thirty； thirty…five at least。'
'What did you find？'
'Recent archives are non…existent； or they've been erased；' said Aemos。 'Nothing for the last two and a half months； not even a
caretaking log； the sort of thing you'd expect Kaleil to have been obliged to keep。'
'He could be recording it at the security office。'
'If he was following official protocol； it would have been automatically copied to the central archives。 You know how anal the
Administratum is about keeping full records。'
'What else？'
'Well； it was a cursory examination … we didn't have much time。 But Kaleil told us Imperial Allied pulled out nine months ago and
Ortog Promethium followed them two months later。 According to the archive； both corporations were active； working and fully
crewed as recently as three months ago。 There's no record of any 〃Grav〃 cases； nor any filed reports or memos about the possibility of
such a problem。'
'Kaleil was lying？'
'In all respects。'
'So where is everyone？'
Aemos shrugged。
'Do we leave now？' Medea asked。
'I'm determined to find Bure；' I replied； 'and there's something afoot here that really ought to—'
'Gregor；' Aemos murmured。 'I hate to be the one to point this out； but this isn't your concern。 Although I know full well you are as
loyal to the Golden Throne now as you ever were； in most respects that matter； you're no longer an inquisitor。 Your authority is no
longer recognised by the Imperium。 You're a rogue… a rogue with more than enough problems of your own to sort out without
involving yourself in this。'
I think he expected me to be angry。 I wasn't。
'You're right… but I can't just stop being a servant of the Emperor； not just like that； no matter what the rest of mankind believes me to
be。 If I can do any good here； I will。 I don't care about recognition； or official sanction。'
'I told you he'd say that；' Medea sneered at Aemos。
'Yes； you did。 She did；' he said； looking back at me。
'Sorry to be so predictable。'
'Moral constancy is nothing to apologise for；' said Aemos。
I took the scroll of paper I'd recovered from the annex and showed it to my old savant。
'What do you make of this？' I told them what had happened in the sanctum of the Machine…God。
He studied the curling sheaf for a few minutes； checking back and forth。
'There are elements of this machine code that I can't make out。 Adeptus encryption。 But… well； look at the text breaks。 These are the
filed records of regular transmissions from outside the minehead。 Every… six hours； to the second。'
'And the sanctum's dormant systems would wake up the moment an external transmission came in？'
'In order to record it； yes。 How long were the machines in life？'
I shook my head。 'Two； maybe two and half minutes。'
'Two minutes forty…eight seconds？' he asked。
'Could be。'
He ran his finger along a line of header text above the last code…burst。 'That's exactly how long the latest transmission lasted。'
'So someone's out there？ Outside the minehead on Cinchare somewhere； sending regular transmissions back to the Adeptus annex？'
'Not just someone… it's Bure。 This is the Adeptus code…form for his name；' Aemos leafed back through the sheets and studied the
yellowest and oldest。 'He's been broadcasting for… eleven weeks。'
'What is he saying？'
'I've no idea。 The main text is too deeply codified。 Mechanilingua…A or C or possibly some modern revision of one of the hexadecimal
servito…ware scripts。 Possibly Impulse Analog version nine。 I can't—'
'You can't read it。 That's enough for me。'
'All right。 But I know where he is。'
I paused。 'You do？'
Aemos smiled and adjusted his heavy augmetic eyewear。 'Well； no。 I don't actually know where he is。 But I can find him。'
'How？'
He pointed to a vertical strip of coloured bars that ran down the side of each transmission burst。 'Each broadcast is routinely
accompanied by a spectrographic report on the location of the transmitter。 These colours are a condensed expression of the type； mix
and density of the rock surrounding him。 It's like a fingerprint。 If I had a good quality strata map of Cinchare； and a geologicae auspex；
I could track him down。'
I smiled。 'I knew there was a reason I kept you around。'
'So we're going after him？' asked Medea。
'Yes； we are。 We'll need transport。 A prospecting pod； maybe。 Can you handle one of those？'
'Piece of cake。 Where do we get one？'
'Imperial Allied has an excursion terminal full of them；' Aemos said。 'I saw a schematic guide of the minehead screwed to a wall。' I
had seen just the same sort of thing； but I didn't recall a detail like that。 It reminded me of the extraordinary photo…memory Aemos
possessed。
'What about the chart and auspex you said you'll need？' Medea asked。
'Any prospector machine will have an on…board mineralogicae or geologicae scanner；' said Aemos。 'That will suffice。 A
comprehensive chart； though； that'll be less of a certainty。 We'd better make sure we have one before we set off。'
He sat down on his cot and began to adjust the settings of his wrist…mounted data…slate。
'What are you doing？' I asked； sitting down next to him。
'Downloading a chart from the security office's cogitorum。'
'Can you do that？' Medea asked。
'It's simple enough。 Despite the gravities； my slate's vox…link has enough range to communicate with the office's codifier。 I can make a
text…bridge and ask it to send its chart files。'
'Yeah； yeah； but can you do that without knowing the system's user…code？' Medea asked。
'No；' said Aemos。 'But fortunately； I do know it。'
'How come？'
'It was on a note taped to the edge of the central control desk。 Didn't you see it？'
Both Medea and I shook our heads and smiled。 Just sitting there with Kaleil； talking and sipping fifth…rate amasec； Aemos had soaked
up and memorised every detail of the place。
'One question；' Medea said。 'We don't know what's going on here； but its probably a safe bet your friend is no friend of Kaleil and his
pals。 If we can find him using this； why haven't they？'
'I doubt even an experienced miner could make much sense of this spectroscopy expression。 It's an Adeptus code；' Aemos said；
proudly。
'It's simpler than that；' I said。 'They haven't found it。 The annex was covered in dust； undisturbed。 I don't think Kaleil or any of his
people have been into the annex。 Fear of the Adeptus Mechanicus is a strong disincentive。 They don't know what we know。'
IN THE NIGHT； they came to kill us。
Once Aemos had downloaded the chart … and several other files of data besides … we resolved to get a few hours' sleep before making
our move。
I had been asleep for about a hour when I woke in the dark to find Medea's fingers stroking my