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《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 dark