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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