Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第15部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


trunk。
He　began　to　climb；　pouring　a　nail　of　brown　smoke　out　of　his　port　engine　that　soon　turned　white。
“Umbra　Eleven？”
“Still　here；　Lead。　Bastard　bloody　birds。”
Nineteen　minutes　later；　they　settled　back　at　the　FSB。　Blansher　and　Jagdea　had　nurse…maided
Cordiale’s　buckled；　limping　Bolt　all　the　way　home。
The　camo…shrouds　drew　back；　exposing　the　matt…deck　hardstands　like　sockets　in　the　green
wilderness。
The　three　Thunderbolts　switched　to　vertical　vector　and　sank　gently　onto　their　stands。　As　their
fans　powered　down；　the　shimmer　netting　folded　back　over　them。
89
As　soon　as　her　stand　controller　gave　her　the　hand　signal　for　okay；　Jagdea　yanked　out　her　vox　and
air　plugs；　climbed　out　of　her　cockpit　and　jumped　down　onto　the　vulcanised　mat。　She　tossed　her
helmet　to　the　nearest　fitter　and　ran　out　of　the　launch　area　along　the　decking　under　the　trees。
She　reached　Cordiale’s　pad　around　the　same　time　as　Blansher。　Umbra　Eleven；　venting　steam　and
coiling　plumes　of　vapour；　was　a　mess。　The　canopy　was　wrecked　and　the　nose　armour　pummelled。　A
team　of　fitters　was　spraying　retardant　foam　into　the　clogged；　burning　engine。　The　fore…part　of　the
Thunderbolt　was　a　mass　of　sticky　black　blood　and　tattered　feathers。
Cordiale　was　climbing　down。　He　was　shaking。　One　bird　carcass　had　punched　through　his　canopy
so　hard　it　had　smashed　his　visor　and　given　him　a　black　eye。
He　took　off　his　helmet；　dropped　it；　and　wiped　the　treacly　blood　from　his　face。　Then　he　squinted
round　at　Jagdea　and　Blansher　as　they　came　up　to　him。
“Mental　note；”　he　said；　wagging　a　finger　at　Jagdea。　“Avoid　birds　wherever　possible。”
“Will　do；”　she　smiled。
Cordiale　reached　around　to　the　nose　of　his　aircraft　and　peeled　a　pink　feather　out　of　the　sticky
mass　plastered　across　it。
He　held　it　up。
“Lucky　feather；　anyone？”
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　16。42
The　scops　were　killing　him。　He’d　signed　up　to　fight　the　Archenemy　of　mankind；　not　microscopic
flies。　Everywhere　he　went；　they　surrounded　him；　unseen；　filling　his　ears　with　a　hiss　like　a　tuned…out
vox。
His　back　was　sore。　He’d　tried　not　to　scratch；　but…
Marquall　wandered　down　to　the　lake　shore；　wondering　if　the　filthy　things　would　leave　him　alone
out　in　the　open。　It　didn’t　seem　to　help。
The　lake’s　beach　was　muddy　and　dimpled。　Behind　him；　the　dense　rainforest　rose　like　a　rotting
curtain。　The　sun　was　beginning　to　sink；　turning　the　sky　as　rose…pink　as　Cordiale’s　lucky　bloody
feathers。
The　lake　was　immense。　It　occurred　to　Marquall　that　he’d　never　seen　a　lake　before。　Standing
water；　that　was　a　novelty。　It　was　kind　of　like　looking　out　across　the　Scald　from　the　ports　of　a
Phantine　hive；　except　that　it　was　so　flat。　So　sheer。　The　vast　green　mirror　had　not　changed　colour　as
the　sun　set；　but　it　had　altered　tonally。　It　was　murky　now；　heavy；　still。
Slip…snakes　danced　across　its　surface　tension。
Marquall　wondered　if　he　should　go　check　on　his　bird；　but　the　last　time　he’d　seen　Nine…Nine；　two
Navy　Sentinels；　fitted　out　with　paint　tanks　and　wash　guns　in　place　of　the　regular　lifting　claws；　had
been　half…way　through　spraying　it　green。
Marquall　knelt　at　the　shore　line；　and　dipped　his　arms　into　the　water。　It　was　warm。　He　cupped　his
hands　to　wash　his　face。
“Don’t　do　that；　you　cretin。”
Marquall　looked　over　his　shoulder。　The　ayatani　was　sitting　on　a　promontory　of　rock　behind　him；
his　blue　robes　gathered　about　him。
What　was　his　name　again？　Kautas；　was　it？
“Why　shouldn’t　I？”　Marquall　asked。
“No　reason。　Go　right　ahead。”
Marquall　let　the　water　fall　out　of　his　fingers　and　rose；　wiping　his　hands　dry　on　the　legs　of　his
trousers。　“Come　on。　Tell　me。”
“Baroxyin　Biroxas；”　said　the　priest。
“Which　is？”
90
“A　microscopic　water　wyrm。　The　lake　is　lousy　with　them。　If　they　enter　the　bloodstream；　say
through　the　mouth　or　nose　or　tear　ducts；　they　infest　the　brainstem；　multiplying　at　a　prodigious　rate；
bursting　blood　vessels；　severing　neural　pathways　and　eventually　causing　such　related　symptoms　as
an　inability　to　remember　your　own　name；　an　inability　to　speak；　an　inability　to　regulate　your　own
bowel　movements　and　an　inability　to　live。”
“Okay；”　Marquall　said。
“Just　so　you　know。”
“I　was　trying　to　wash　off　the…　the　scops。”
“Lake　mud。”
“Pardon　me？”
Kautas　ran　his　fingers　back　through　his　own　matted　locks。　“Use　lake　mud。　In　your　hair。　That
soon　sends　the　scops　off。”
“Okay。”
Marquall　paused。
“Look；　I　want　to　say…　I’m　really　sorry。”
“About　what？”　the　ayatani　asked。
“Going　into　your　infirmary　like　that。　Assuming。”
Kautas　shrugged。
“Well；　I’m　sorry。”
“Like　I　could　actually；　possibly　give　a　shit；”　the　priest　said；　and　walked　away　up　the　empty
beach。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　17。20
Bree　Jagdea　was　compiling　reports　in　her　habitent　when　the　runner　came　to　her。
“Message　wafer；　mamzel；”　he　said；　holding　it　out。
“Commander；”　she　corrected；　taking　it　from　him。
She　unfolded　the　wafer　and　read　it。　“Anything　interesting？”　Blansher　asked；　wandering　over
from　his　own　tent。
The　wafer　read：
To　Jagdea；　Commander；　Phantine　XX
I　thought　I　should　inform　you　that；　at　around　13。00　hours　this　day；　Captain　Guis　Gettering　of　the
Apostles　was　lost　in　action。　I　think　it　appropriate　that　your　boy　might　now　be　allowed　to　name　his
bird　just　as　he　likes。　Sincerely；　Seekan；　Wing　Co。
“God…Emperor；”　Jagdea　sighed。　“Another　one　gone。”
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　21。12
“How　does　that　look？”　Racklae　asked。　He　pulled　off　the　last　of　the　masking　strips　and　tipped　the
nearest　work　lamp　so　that　Marquall　could　see。　Wisp…moths　furiously　circled　the　blue　light　of　the
lamp。
“That’s　nice。　That’s　great；”　Marquall　said。
Along　serial　Nine…Nine’s　green　flank　he　could　now　see　the　Phantine　eagle　crest；　and　the　stencil；
“Double　Eagle”。
“All　right？”
“Really；　God…Emperor　bless　you。　That’s　just　right。”
“Not　going　to　get　a　smack　in　the　mourn　for　it？”　Racklae　grinned；　wiping　his　hands　on　a　rag。
“As　I　understand　it；　no；”　said　Marquall。　He　patted　the　side　of　his　machine。　“First　flight
tomorrow；”　he　said。　He’d　flown　Nine…Nine　already；　of　course；　bringing　it　down　to　Gocel　FSB。　What
Marquall　meant　was　first　combat　sortie。
91
“We’re　going　to　get　her　ramp…ready；　soon　as　we’ve　done　the　last　check　over。”
Marquall　nodded　to　the　fitter。　“Thanks；”　he　said　and　walked　off　the　pad；　backing　so　he　could
enjoy　a　last　look　at　his　bird。　It　was　framed　in　a　little　cocoon　of　light　under　the　heavy　shrouds。　All
around；　night　had　settled　on　the　forest：　a　full；　deep　darkness　punctured　only　slightly　by　faint　lights
from　the　camp。
“Looking　good；　killer。”
Marquall　glanced　around。　Larice　Asche　stood　in　the　trees　at　the　edge　of　the　matt…pad。
“It　does；　doesn’t　it？”　Marquall　smiled。
She　walked　over　to　him；　and　produced　a　bottle　of　amasec　from　the　map　pocket　of　her　flight
baggies。
“Better　baptise　it；　for　luck。”　She　took　a　deep　swig　and　then　passed　the　bottle　to　him。　Marquall
drank　too。
“Here’s　to　Double　Eagle；”　Asche　said。　Her　eyes　were　bright　in　the　darkness；　and　there　was
relish　in　her　voice。　“Things　are　coming　pretty　good　for　you；　huh；　killer？　An　infamous　rocket…assist
evasion；　your　first　confirmed；　a　personalised　bird…　You’re　really　getting　in　the　game。　You　got　the
shine；　Marquall。　The　aura　that　says　you’re　gonna　go　far。”
“I　guess；”　he　smiled；　a　little　nervous。　He　took　another　swig　and　handed　the　bottle　back　to　her。
“Maybe　my　luck　is　changing　at　last。”
“Oh；　I　know　it　is；”　she　said；　and　stepped　up　to　him；　her　mouth　against　his。　Her　enthusiasm　took
him　by　surprise。
Racklae　jumped　down　from　Nine…Nine’s　wing　and　began　searching　in　the　tool　trunks　for　a
number　three　rotator。
“Hey　chief；”　said　one　of　his　men。
Racklae　looked　up；　nodding；　and　followed　the　man’s　gaze；　locating　the　two　entwined　figures　in
the　shadows　of　the　path。　He　snorted　a　laugh。
“And　the　kid　was　so　sure　he　wasn’t　going　to　get　a　smack　in　the　mouth…”
92
DAY　262
The　Makanites；　06。47
The　upper　faces　of　the　cliffs　above　them　lit　up　russet　in　the　dawn；　and　long　shadows　streaked　the
dust。　It　was　cold　and　the　air　was　eerily　quiet。
“What　day　is　it？”　Viltry　asked。
“Two…sixty…two；”　LeGuin　replied。
“I’ve　lost…　three　days。”
“I　think　you　must’ve　hit　your　head　pretty　hard。　We　patched　you　up　as　best　we　could。”
“You　found　me？”
LeGuin　leaned　back　against　Line　of　Death’s　tracks；　and　took　a　sip　from　his　water　bottle。　“Found
your　bird。　My　convoy　elements　had　seen　a　bunch　of　trouble　ahead。　A　gorge　area。　An　ambush。　Time
we　got　there；　it　was　all　done。　Lot　of　mess。　We　came　on　your　plane　belly　down　in　the　desert　south　of
the　gorge。　You　were　lying　in　the　sand　about　fifty　metres　from　it。”
“I　don’t　remember　ejecting。”
“Thrown　clear；　maybe？”
“The　rest　of　my　crew…？”
LeGuin　shrugged。　“Sorry。　I’m　guessing　they　didn’t　make　it。　Your　machine　was　burned　out。　We
took　a　look；　saw　a　couple　of　bodies。　I　don’t　think　we　missed　anything　still　alive。”
Viltry　nodded。
“Sorry。”
“Not　your　fault。”
“Not　yours　either；　I　should　imagine。”　You　have　no　idea；　Viltry　thought　to　himself。　“What’s　your
name？”　he　asked。　“LeGuin；　Captain　Robart；　8th　Pardus　Armoured。”
“Oskar　Viltry；　21st　Wing；　Phantine　Air。”
“Don’t　get　many　of　your　sort　down　this　way；”　LeGuin　joked。
“You’re　on　the　home　haul？”
“Oh；　yes。　Part　of　Humel’s　great　land　armada。　We’ve　been　to　the　gates　of　the　Trinity　Hives；　and
now　we’re　marching　home。”
“What　was　it　like？”
“Trinity？　A　mess。　A　bloody　mess。　We　thought　we’d　roll　in　and　take　the　place　in　a　week。　They
had　other　ideas。　And　serious　reinforcements　from　offworld。　They　slaughtered　the　first　waves。　Along
the　farm　terraces；　the　commercial　highway；　the　vapour　mills。　The　sky　was　black。　Fire　everywhere。
You’ve　never　seen　anything　like　it。”
LeGuin　wiped　a　sand　midge　off　his　cheek。　“So　we　fell　back；　and　that　turned　into　a　retreat。　Right
back　up　through　the　desert；　hunted　all　the　way。　I　tell　you　this。　Whatever　kind　of　hell　we　found　at　the
Trinity　Gates；　it　was　nothing　compared　to　the　hell　we’ve　been　grinding　through　out　here　ever　since。
Heat。　Low　water；　low　fuel；　low　ammo；　low　food。　Breakdowns。　Sickness。　Men　dying　of　untreated
wounds。　Murderous　terrain。　Constant　attacks。　There　were　times　I　thought　we’d　never　make　it。”
“There’s　still　a　way　to　go；”　Viltry　said。
“I　know；　but　we’re　in　the　mountains　now。　Two　days；　Emperor　willing；　and　we’ll　be　breaking　flat
ground　on　the　north　side。”
93
“Some　elements　have　already；”　Viltry　said。　“Before　I…　before　I　left　last　time；　there　was　news。
Convoys　entering　the　Lida　Valley；　and　up　into　the　Peninsula。　I　think　some　may　have　cut　through　to
the　west　too。”
“That’s　good；”　said　LeGuin。　“That’s　good　to　hear。　Throne　of　Earth；　we’re　not　done　yet。”
“Will　you　go　back？”　Viltry　asked。
“What　do　you　mean？”
“The　air　operation　I　was　part　of。　Serious　amounts　of　air　power；　mostly　Navy；　brought　in　to　keep
the　enemy　busy　and　slow　him　down。　To　buy　you　men　time　to　get　home。　But　we　can’t　hold　them　off
indefinitely。　I　mean；　that’s　the　point。　We’re　just　flying　a　desperate　holding　action。　There’s　still　a　war
to　win　here。”
“Then　we’ll　just　have　to　win　it；　won’t　we？”　said　LeGuin。　He　got　to　his　feet。　“Come　on。　Day’s
breaking。　We　should　get　started。　Get　a　good　lead　before　the　real　heat　settles　in。”
He　woke　his　crew；　who　were　sound　asleep　in　the　shadows　of　the　tank。　Only　in　the　cool　of　the
night　was　it　possible　to　get　some　rest。　He　sent　them　off　to　rouse　the　other　crews。　All　down　the
narrow　pass；　armour　and　transporters　were　parked　and　silent。
Engines　began　to　turn　over。　Voices　lifted　into　the　air。
Another　day　in　the　great　retreat　had　begun。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　08。43
In　full　flight　armour；　Van　Tull；　Del　Ruth　and　Marquall　arrived　for　the　preliminary　briefing；　which
Jagdea　held　around　the　camp　table　outside　her　habitent。　It　was　a　fresh；　bright　day；　with　a　breeze
coming　in　off　the　lake；　and　strong　shafts　of　sunlight　beaming　down　through　the　shimmer　nets；
making　everything　a　checkerboard　of　light　and　dark。　Blansher　came　along；　and　brought　a　pitcher　of
caffeine　from　the　commissary。　For　some　reason；　Larice　Asche　turned　up　too；　dressed　in　flight
baggies　and　a　vest　top。　She　had　a　smile　about　her；　but　Jagdea　didn’t　really　give　her　presence　much
thought。
She　waited　to　begin　until　08。45　had　ticked　by。　Right　on　cue；　they　heard　the　simultaneous　thump
of　three　ramp　launches。　The　Raptors　had　first　slot　that　morning；　punching　up　into　the　blue。
“Order　of　the　day　is　combat　air　patrols　running　on　staggered　overlap；”　Jagdea　said。　“Three
Raptors；　three　of　us；　and　so　on；　through　the　day；　six　machines　aloft　at　any　time。　That　means　you’ll
probably　be　up　again　before　sunset。　It’s　going　to　be　tiring；　so　keep　it　steady。　Overnight　picture　is
this：　the　enemy　is　still　hitting　the　coast　hard。　The　word　from　the　Peninsula　is　bad。　They　hit　Theda　for
the　first　time　yesterday。　But　unless　a　bombing　formation　comes…into　our　catchment；　that’s　not　our
concern　right　now。　Large　sections　of　the　land　retreat　are　starting　to　come　clear　of　the　mountains。　In
the　next　few　days；　a　major　evac　is　going　to　gear　up；　getting　them　across　to　the　northern　coast。
Recons　show　several　of　those　columns　coming　this　way；　intending　to　cross　the　Saroja　west　of　Gocel。
They　are　being　hunted。”
“Land　or　air？”　asked　Van　Tull。
“Both。　Mission　profile　is　threefold。　If　you　locate　a　friendly　column；　make　it　the　epicentre　of　your
patrol。　Stay　with　it；　give　it　what　protection　it　needs　while　fuel　lasts。　If　you　sight　hostiles；　engage　and
prosecute。　If　you　identify　enemy　land　forces；　you　may　also　engage。　You’ll　be　carrying　rockets　for
that　purpose。　Targets　of　opportunity；　Umbra。　Get　out　there　and　see　what　needs　doing。”
“What　if　we　find　an　enemy　carrier？”　asked　Del　Ruth。
“Use　your　head。　Get　a　fix　and　get　out。　We’ll　call　in　Marauders。　Likewise；　if　you　find　a　bombing
formation　up　there；　or　you’re　outnumbered　more　than　two　to　one；　get　on　the　vox　and　yell　for
support。　I　expect　heroism；　not　stupidity。”
She　paused。　“Questions？　No？　Good；　let’s　go。”
Jagdea　and　Blansher　followed　the　three　pilots　to　their　birds。　Jagdea　saw　how　Larice　Asche　hung
around　Marquall；　laughing　with　him。　At　the　edge　of　Nine…Nine’s　pad；　Asche　kissed　Marquall　hard。
94
“Looks　like　Larice　has　made　another　kill；”　said　Blansher。
“Marquall？　That’s　a　surprise。”
“Not　really。　His　first　confirmed；　some　heroics。　He’s　hot　stuff　right　now。　She　always　goes　for
that。”
“She　ever　go　for　you？”　Jagdea　asked。
“A　gentleman　is　always　discreet；”　Blansher　replied。
“Oh；　what’s　the　matter；　Mil？　A　little　miffed　you　never　caught　her　eye？　What　is　it；　an　age　thing？”
He　smiled　at　her　tolerantly。　“If　you　must　know；　she　hit　on　me　about　eighteen　months　ago。　The
Urdesh　tour。　That　afternoon　I　splashed　those　three　Talons。”
“What　happened？”
“She　had　me　in　her　sights；　tone　lock。　But　I　broke；　rolled　out　and　got　home　safely。”
“She　not　your　type？”
“She’s　perfectly　lovely。　It’s　her　motivation　that　doesn’t　appeal。”
A　hooter　sounded。　Marquall　was　ready　to　go。　They　moved　in　behind　the　blast　shields。
Racklae　closed　the　canopy　and　shot　Marquall　a　grin。　Clamped　into　his　mask　and　helmet；
Marquall　nodded　back。　He　adjusted　his　air…mix　and　settled　back。　Throne；　how　he　hated　ramp
launches。　He　felt　sweat　trickle　inside　his　suit。　He　watched　the　diode　counter　marking　down。　Systems
on。　Hypergolic　intermix　valves　open。　Operations　chatter　on　the　vox。　Rocket　was　primed。
Buzzer。　Five　seconds。　The　shimmer　nets　began　to　crank　open；　revealing　the　soaring　blue　sky。
Three　seconds。　Thumb　on　the　fire　stud。　Two。
With　a　crackling；　gut…shaking　roar；　Del　Ruth　fired　into　the　air；　then　Van　Tull。　Then…
Marquall　looked　around　in　dismay。　He’d　pressed　the　stud。　He　was　sure　he　had。　He　pressed　it
again。　Nothing。　He　swore。
“Umbra　Eight；　status？”
“Malfunction！”　he　called　back。　“Restart…”
Again；　nothing。　Red　runes　suddenly　lit　up　across　his　instrumentation。　A　warning　tone　sounded。
“Crap！”　Marquall　snarled。
“Say　again？　Status？”
“Rocket　malfunction！”
“Understood；　Umbra　Eight。　Observe　emergency　procedures。　Stabilise　your　intermix　and　activate
suppression　jets。”
“Yes；　Operations。”
He　hit　several　switches；　disarming　his　weapons　and　payload；　sealing　his　tanks　and　injecting　a
neutralising　chemical　flow　into　the　rocket　tanks　so　that　the　primed　and　volatile　chemical　propellants
couldn’t　accidentally　light　or　trigger　late。　It　would　take　hours　to　wash　the　tanks　out　and　recharge
them。
“Umbra　Eight　made　safe；”　he　voxed。
Only　then　did　the　fitters　emerge　and　hurry　to　the　plane。　Inspection　hatches　were　opened；　cables
hitched　in　to　drain　off　fuel　via　the　tank　cocks。　A　pooved　in　to
unload　the　wing…mounts　and　stow　them　in　hardened　caissons。
A　ladder　went　up　at　the　machine’s　side。
Marquall　popped　the　canopy。　“Thanks　for　frigging　nothing；　Nine…Nine；”　he　hissed；　and　hauled
himself　out。
atting；　Racklae　was　beside　himself。
“I’m　so　sorry；　sir；　I’m　so　sorry。　We　thought　she　was　four…A。　Not　a　sign　of　anything　wrong。”
“Jinxes　don’t　show　up　on　your　diagnostics；　do　they？”　Marquall　said　bitterly。　He　could　see
Racklae　was　mortified。
95
His　fitters；　however；　were　not。　Many　were　trying　to　hide　their　laughter。　Nearby；　fitters　from　the
409th；　and　other　base　personnel；　were　not　even　bothering　to　conceal　their　amusement。　His　face
burning；　Marquall　heard　mocking　laughter。　There　was　nothing　more　amusing；　apparently；　than　a
cocksure　young　pilot；　on　his　first　combat　sortie；　in　a　newly　and　boldly　decorated　bird；　getting　his
pride　punctured。
He　was　a　laughing　stock。
He　strode　off　the　pad。
“Bad　luck；　Marquall；”　Jagdea　said。　“We’ll　get　you　up　again　this　afternoon。”
“Yes；　mamzel；”　he　snapped；　walking　past　her。
He　went　towards　Asche；　who　was　watching　the　farce。　There　was　laughter　in　the　air　still。
Marquall　spread　his　hands　in　a　wide　shrug。
“What　can　I　say？　How　crap　is　this？　Maybe　we　can　catch　that　breakfast　together　after　all。”
Larice　Asche　stared　at　him　contemptuously。　“Another　time；　killer；”　she　said；　and　marched　away
towards　the　camp。
Over　the　forests；　09。02
Kitting　up　fast；　as　if　it　was　a　snap　call；　Jagdea　lifted　her　waiting　Bolt　off　its　matt　on　a　standard
vector　launch；　and　climbed　to　join　Del　Ruth　and　Van　Tull；　who　were　in　a　holding　pattern　as　per
Operations’　advice。
“Three；　Six？　Umbra　Lead。　Sorry　for　the　delay。　Marquall　suffered　a　misfire　and　he’s　out。　So
you’ll　have　to　make　do　with　me。”
“No　problem；　Lead；”　Van　Tull　voxed。
“Always　a　pleasure；　mamzel；”　Del　Ruth　came　back。
“Let’s　get　on　with　the　game；”　Jagdea　said。　Serial　Zero…Two　felt　fine；　loose　and　finessed　despite
the　unexpected　scramble。　“Let’s　make　our　level　four　thousand；　cruise　speed；　turning　one…one…nine。”
“Got　that；　Lead。”
“Understood。”
“Umbra　Three；　take　the　point。”
“Four…A；　Lead；”　Van　Tull　voxed　back。
They　formed　a　flat　V　as　they　climbed　hard；　with　Van　Tull　at　the　apex；　Jagdea　at　his　port　eight。
The　air　was　clear　and　visibility　generous；　but　it　was　still　cold　enough　for　them　to　be　making　vapour
from　wingtips　and　exhausts。　Auspex　showed　nothing　in　the　sky；　except　the　three　Raptors　sixty
kilometres　east。
Jagdea　felt　uncomfortable。　She　hadn’t　expected　to　be　flying　so　soon；　not　before　midday；　given
the　original　schedule。　She’d　eaten　a　full　breakfast　and　was　still　digesting。　Pressure　was　doing
nauseous　things　to　her　guts。　She　tweaked　the　air…mix　and　felt　a　little　better。
They　cruised　for　an　hour；　snagging　a　wide　arc