Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第16部分

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nauseous　things　to　her　guts。　She　tweaked　the　air…mix　and　felt　a　little　better。
They　cruised　for　an　hour；　snagging　a　wide　arc　eastwards；　until　the　thickness　of　the　forest　cover
petered　away　and　they　were　out　across　the　scrublands　of　the　sierra　that　marked　the　hinterland
between　rainforest　and　desert。　The　view　was　huge。　Sundogs　from　the　bright　daylight　hovered　in　the
canopy　lense。　Open；　coarse　land　slipped　by　underneath　them；　scabbed　with　rocks；　thistle；　cactus
trees。
“I　have　a　hard　metal　return；　point　two　west；　four　kilometres；”　Van　Tull　voxed。　“It’s　cold。”
“Let’s　check　it；”　Jagdea　replied。　They　turned　tight；　pulling　a　quarter　G；　but　it　was　enough　for
Jagdea　to　feel　a　twinge　of　cramp　in　her　stomach。
“You　okay；　One？”　Del　Ruth　called。
“Four…A；”　Jagdea　replied。
“Little　late　on　the　turn　there；　s’all　I　was　wondering。”
“Too　much　breakfast；”　Jagdea　said。
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They　came　up　on　the　contact；　and　made　a　low　pass。　Straggled　out　over　the　ragged　crest　of　a　dune
sea　basin；　two　Imperial　tanks　and　four　troop　carriers；　silent　and　still。　No　sign　of　damage。　Some
hatches　were　open。　Auspex　showed　no　heat　sources。　No　engines；　no　life。
“They’re　dead；”　Van　Tull　voxed。
“Let’s　come　around　again；”　Jagdea　said。
They　banked　west；　and　came　in　a　second　time；　lower　now；　throttles　idling　so　they　were　almost
gliding　in。　A　lingering　look。　Jagdea　saw　how　the　wind…blown　sands　had　begun　to　cover　the
machines。　She　saw　what　could　have　been　a　body；　a　lump　in　the　dust　beside　one　of　the　carriers。
The　enemy　hadn’t　done　this；　or　rather；　it　hadn’t　done　this　directly。　This　was　not　the　aftermath　of
an　air　strike　or　an　ambush。　This　was　extinction　brought　on　by　the　unforgiving　desert。　What　had　they
run　out　of？　Fuel？　Water？　Either　one　would　have　killed　them。　Jagdea　supposed　it　had　been　fuel　first。
Grinding　to　a　halt；　dry　and　gritty；　power　gone。　Then　heat　and　thirst。　Had　any　of　them　tried　to　walk？
The　bodies　would　never　be　found　now。
How　miserable。　How　pointless。　Had　they　known　how　close　they’d　come？　Another　sixty
kilometres；　and　they’d　have　reached　the　forest　line。　She　hoped　they　hadn’t。　Death　was　one　thing。
Death　tormented　by　the　knowledge　that　salvation　was　just　out　of　reach…
The　vox　burbled；　snapping　her　alert。
“Umbra；　Umbra。　Assist　request　from　Raptor　Flight；　urgent！”
“Coordinates；　please；”　Jagdea　replied。　The　squirted　data　flashed　up　on　her　main　display。
“Received；　Operations。　We　are　inbound；　nine　minutes。”
They　banked　away　and　started　to　climb；　opening　their　throttles。
“Punch　it；”　Jagdea　said。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　09。31
“Bites　still　bothering　you？”
Marquall；　sitting　by　the　lake　shore；　glanced　up。　It　was　the　priest；　Kautas。　The　brisk　inshore　wind
tugged　at　his　blue　vestments。
“I　was　under　the　impression　you　scarcely　cared；”　Marquall　replied。
The　ayatani　shrugged。　“I　never　asked　for　this。　Actually；　I’m　not　sure　what　it　was　I　asked　for。　Not
this；　anyway。　But　it　is　my　lot。　I　am　reminded　by　the　regular　dispatches　from　my　church　that　I　have　a
job　to　do。　A　calling。　So　try　me。”
“You　seem　very　jolly　this　morning。”
Kautas　sat　down　beside　Marquall。　“An　illusion；　I　assure　you。　I’m　the　very　same　noxious　bastard
as　I　was　yesterday。”
Kautas　slid　a　metal　flask　from　his　robe　pocket　and　selled　liquor。　The　priest
didn’t　offer　any　to　him。
“Ah；”　said　Marquall。
“Ah　what？”
“Nothing。”
“Sounded　to　me　like　you’d　had　some　great　epiphany；　fly…boy。”
“My　name　is　Vander　Marquall。　And　no；　it　wasn’t　a…　whatever　you　just　said。　I　just　realised　why
you　were　in　a　better　mood。”
“Really？”
“Really。”
“Enlighten　me；　Vander　Marken。”
“Marquall。　If　you　start　drinking　at　breakfast；　father；　no　wonder　you’re　happy　by　nine　o’clock。”
Kautas　chuckled　and　took　another　swig。　“Who　said　I　started　drinking　at　breakfast？　That’s　the
behaviour　of　a　hopeless　drunkard。　Young　man；　I　started　drinking　many　years　ago。”
Marquall　shook　his　head。　“With　respect；　what　are　you　doing　here？”
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“I　saw　you　here；　alone　on　the　beach；　looking　pissed　off；　so　I　thought　I’d　come　and　share　your
gloom。　I　have　an　appetite　for　melancholy。”
“I　meant　here。　Enothis。　Lake　Gocel。”
Kautas　prised　a　pebble　from　the　shoreline　mud　and　tossed　it　out　into　the　lake。　He　had　a　good
arm。　It　went　a　long　way；　and　sent　a　ripple　out　across　the　oily　green　water。
“Why　did　that　stone　land　there？”　Kautas　asked。
“You　threw　it。”
“Yes　but…”　his　voice　trailed　off。　“No；　you’re　right。　I　threw　it。　It’s　too　bloody　early　for　clever
philosophical　analogies。　Or　too　late。　Whatever。　I’m　here　because　this　is　where　I　stopped。　It’s　a
matter　I　intend　to　bring　up　with　the　God…Emperor；　when　at　last　I　am　granted　celestial　audience
before　the　Golden　Throne　as　part　of　the　Beati’s　magnificent　host。”
“Good　luck。”
“Luck　has　nothing　to　do　with　it。　It’s　all　about　faith。”
“You　don’t　seem　to　have　much；　father。　You　seem　very…　bitter。”
“Do　I？　How　crap　is　that？　I　meant　to　supply　spiritual　reinforcement　to　this　station。　And　medical
assistance。　Actually；　I　think　the　latter　is　why　they　sent　me　here。　I　was　a　medicae　first；　before　I
became　an　ayatani。”
Marquall　looked　at　him。　“Take　it　from　me；　you’re　not　excelling　at　either。”
“Yeah；　well…”　sighed　Kautas。　“Stuff　you　too。”
They　sat　in　silence　for　a　long　moment。　Scops　hissed　around　them。　At　length；　Kautas　cleared　his
throat　and　said；　“Go　on；　then。　Test　my　worth。　What’s　this　mood　about？”
Marquall　smiled　sourly。　“A　plane。　A　woman。”
“Planes　I　don’t　do；”　said　Kautas。　“Noisy　great　buggers。　Can’t　help　you　there。　Women；　more　my
field。　Spurned？　Unrequited？　Inadequate？”
“Whoah；　whoah…　the　first。　Spurned。　Last　night　she　was　all　over　me　like　a　body　bag。　This
morning—”
“Well；　you　must　learn　to　get　over　it…”
“I　hadn’t　finished。”
“Well。　Uhm。　Even　given　that；　just　get　over　it。”
“Get　over　it？”
Kautas　nodded　sagely。
“Father；　you’re　really　bad　at　this。”
“Am　I？　Shit。”
There　was　another　long　pause。　Kautas　helped　himself　to　another　swig。
“Okay　then；”　Marquall　said。　“You　go。　Why　are　you　so　screwed　up？”
Kautas　scratched　his　head；　then　sighed。　At　length；　he　said；　“Because　I　wanted　to　be　there。　Right
there。　When　she　came　back。　And　I　can’t；　because　I’m　stuck　here。”
“Who？”　Marquall　asked。
“The　Beati；　Vander　Marquall。　The　Beati。”
Over　the　desert；　09。32
They　came　in　low　and　hard；　engines　really　cooking。　Jagdea　was　pleased　to　see　that　they’d　shaved
nearly　a　minute　off　the　projected　intercept　time。
Raptor　Flight　had　found　a　retreat　convoy　in　the　open　desert；　and　had　been　watching　over　it　when
an　attack　had　thundered　in。　Stalk　tanks　and　heavier　tread　armour；　fully　powered　and　fuelled；　coming
up　hard　on　the　limping　Imperial　group。
The　Raptors　had　already　loosed　their　rocket　complement；　securing　some　decent　kills。　Burning
armour　wreckage　littered　the　dunes。
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“Good　to　see　you；　Umbra；”　voxed　Raptor　One。　“We　could　do　with　a　little　more　Hellstrike　over
here。”
“Roger　that　leader。　Coming　around；”　Jagdea　replied。
The　Raptors；　which　had　been　doing　their　damnedest　with　cannon　runs；　pulled　off　high；　leaving
the　air　open　for　Umbra。　The　Raptors　were　stark；　black　machines。　They　had　refused　a　respray　on
arrival　at　Gocel。　It　was　a　pride　thing；　apparently。
Beloing　across　the　desert；　lurching　over　dunes；　firing
shot　after　shot　from　their　main　weapons　at　the　scurrying　Imperials。
Jagdea　saw　a　Chimera　go　up；　and　a　Hydra　platform　shred　into　flames。　Blast　vapour　sheened　the
air：　white　smoke　trails；　puffs　of　chalky　flare　from　barrel　discharges；　rising　scuds　of　black　flamesmoke
from　wrecks。
Sporadic　tracer　fire　rose　from　the　enemy　AA　carriers。
“Let’s　get　lucky；”　Jagdea　said。
Van　Tull　went　in　first；　whipping　through　the　mosaic　of　smoke　and　vapour。　Tracer　shot　laddered
over　at　him；　falling　short。　He　loosed　his　missile　load　and　pulled　out　hard　at　the　same　moment。
A　blitz　of　flame　lit　up　the　desert　floor。　Two　enemy　tanks　atomised；　their　warloads　kicking　off。
Del　Ruth　was　right　on　his　tail；　snaking　in。　She　flew　edgy；　nicking　around　the　flares　of　flak。　Her
rockets　seared　out；　and　crippled　a　tank；　shredding　off　its　tracks。　Instead　of　pulling　out；　she　stayed
low　and　opened　up　with　her　quad…cannons；　raking　a　troop　carrier　to　bits。　Then　she　pulled　out　wide；
whooping　over　the　vox。
Jagdea　barrel…rolled　onto　the　approach；　setting　her　wing…load　live。　She　felt　like　heaving；　but
suppressed　her　stomach。
A　tank…　too　close。　Another；　lined　up。　She　let　it　slide　through　her　scope　and　fired。　On　twists　of
white　smoke；　her　rockets　lit　off。
She　was　already　rising　off　the　targets　when　the　tank　detonated。
She　came　up　long。　Right　into　the　bats。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　09。33
Kautas　sniffed　thoughtfully。　“Do　you　know　what’s　happening　on　Herodor　right　now？”　he　asked。
“Herodor？　Where’s　that？”
“Down　in　the　Khan　Group；　about　nine　weeks　from　here。”
Marquall　shrugged。　“No　idea。　More　fighting？”
Kautas　sighed。　“It’s　a　trait　I’ve　often　observed　in　the—excuse　me　saying　this—common　fighting
man。　He　seems　to　have　precious　little　idea　of　the　big　picture。　Of　the　great　scheme　of　things。　He
seems　content　to　leave　that　to　tacticians　and　nobility；　and　the　priesthood。”
“The　common　fighting　man　tends　to　have　a　lot　of　filings　to　occupy　his　immediate　attention；”
said　Marquall。
Kautas　smiled。　“Fair　point。”
“Isn’t　the　true　calling　of　the　Imperial　warrior　to　serve　and　fight？　Not　to　question？”　asked
Marquall。
“Yes。　But　a　little　curiosity　never　went　astray。　Why　are　you　fighting？”
“To　wrest　Enothis　back　from　the　clutches　of　the　Archenemy。”
“Of　course。　And　beyond　that？”
“To…　to　prosecute　the　great　Crusade　and　liberate　the　Sabbat　Worlds？”
“So　your　greater　purpose　is…？”
“To　win。”
Kautas　took　a　drink　from　his　flask。　This　time；　he　offered　it　to　Marquall。　The　Phantine　shook　his
head。
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“Why　are　the　Sabbat　Worlds　important？”　the　ayatani　asked。
“Well；　strategically—”
“No；　Marquall。　What　is　their　significance？”
“Thousands　of　years　ago；　Saint　Sabbat　purged　these　worlds　of　Chaos　in　the　name　of　the　God…
Emperor。　We　are　reclaiming　what　she　once　established　for　us。”
“Exactly。　These　worlds　are　Saint　Sabbat’s。　They　are　blessed　with　her　touch。　My　first　duty；　as　an
ayatani；　is　to　the　God…Emperor；　but　I　am　specifically　a　priest　of　Sabbat；　the　Beati。　We　ayatani　come
in　two　kinds。　Those　that　dwell　in　the　great　templums　and　shrineholds；　and　those；　like　me；　who　are
‘imhava’—roving　priests；　sworn　to　follow　her　path　through　the　stars　and　spread　her　teachings。”
“Okay；”　said　Marquall。
“This　Crusade’s　been　going　on　for　almost　twenty　years。　Warmaster　Macaroth；　if　my　information
is　correct；　has　pressed　ahead；　taking　a　huge　gamble　in　directing　an　attack　into　the　heart　of　the
Archenemy’s　core　systems。　But　his　flanks　are　exposed；　and　the　enemy　has　driven　his　forces　into
those　weaknesses；　hoping　to　behead　the　thrusting　Crusade　force；　and　leave　Macaroth　alone　and
vulnerable。　We　are　those　flanks；　Marquall：　Enothis；　the　Khan　Group。　It　is　the　fighting　here　that　will
determine　the　overall　success　or　failure　of　the　Crusade。　If　we　fail　here；　it　doesn’t　matter　if　Macaroth
achieves　victory　at　the　front　line。　All　will　be　for　naught。　The　enemy　knows　this。　But　now；　according
to　rumours；　the　enemy　has　an　even　greater　incentive。　On　Herodor；　it　is　said；　the　Beati　has　been
reborn。”
Marquall　blinked。　“Is　that…　possible？”
Kautas　pursed　his　lips。　“It　tests　even　the　faith　of　an　imhava　ayatani；　but　it　seems　to　be　the　truth。
Right　now；　Herodor；　like　Enothis；　is　under　desperate　assault　by　the　hosts　of　Chaos。　If　either　world
falls；　then　the　flank　is　ripped　open　and　the　Crusade　is　doomed。　If　Herodor　falls；　and　the　Beati　dies
with　it；　then　the　Imperium　suffers　an　even　greater　loss。”
“And　you　wish　you　were　there？”　asked　Marquall。
“Oh；　indeed。　How　I　wish。　In　his　heart；　every　ayatani　longs　to　be　on　Herodor；　at　Sabbat’s　side。
But　it　is　my　luck；　my　lot　in　life；　to　be　stuck　here；　pinned　fast　by　duty　and　the　turmoil　of　another
combat；　unable　to　make　the　final　pilgrimage　to　her　person。”
A　breeze　picked　up；　and　played　across　the　lake。　The　frond…trees　along　the　shore　swayed　and
hissed。
“That　makes　my　own　problems　seem　meagre；”　said　Marquall。　“Maybe　you’re　better　at　this
priestly　advice…giving　thing　than　I　thought。”
Kautas　shook　his　head。　“I’m　good　for　two　things；　Vander　Marquall。　Drinking　and　being　bitter。　I
waste　every　miserable　day　waiting　for　the　end。”
“What　end？”
“The　end　of　this　war。　The　end　of　this　world。　My　own　end。　Whatever　comes　first　to　free　me　so
that　I　can　be　with　the　Beati。”
Marquall　got　to　his　feet。　“Don’t　think　that　way。　It　smells　too　much　of　pessimism。　We　can　still
win；　tell　yourself　that。　Here；　and　on　Herodor。　The　Crusade　can　still　triumph。　The　Beati　can　still　live。
Even　one　man’s　sour　thoughts　can　lend　the　enemy　strength。”
“Besides；”　he　added。　“Did　it　not　occur　to　you　that　the　Beati　must　have　wanted　you　to　be　here？”
Kautas　made　no　reply。　Marquall　shrugged　and　headed　back　up　the　shore　to　the　base。
“Marquall？”
He　turned　and　looked　back。　The　priest　had　risen；　looking　after　him。　“What；　father？”
“That　suggests　she　must　have　wanted　you　to　be　here　too。”
Over　the　desert；　09。35
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The　sky　was　dark　with　bats。　Literally；　terrifyingly　dark。　A　mass　bombing　wave；　perhaps　five
hundred　machines；　was　passing　over　like　a　slow；　heavy　storm　cloud　at　about　ten　thousand　metres。
Two　more　great　swarms；　equally　large；　were　following　it；　ten　kilometres　back。
Most　of　it　was　simply　moving　past　towards　intended　target　zones　in　the　Littoral；　unconcerned　by
the　minor　brawl　down　in　the　desert　verges。　But　a　pack　of　bombers；　twenty　or　more；　had　peeled　off　to
attack　the　retreat　column；　and　several　dozen　escort　fighters　had　committed　with　them。
Jagdea　heard　Del　Ruth　and　one　of　the　Raptor　pilots　frantically　calling　in　warnings。
“Mass　raids！　Five　hundred…plus；　coming　in　out　of　the　desert；　turning　north…east；　ten　thousand。”
Jagdea　herself　was　too　busy　pulling　negative　Gs　to　evade　the　fighters　streaking　in。　Hell　Razors；
for　the　most　part；　but　also　machines　of　another　pattern　with　long；　dihedral　wings　cabaned　towards
the　rear　of　the　hulls；　so　they　looked　like　long…necked　birds。　The　Gs　hung　on　her　hard；　and　made　her
gut　squirm。
Jagdea　levelled　out　in　time　to　hear　Operations　ordering　the　Imperial　fliers　out。
“This　is　Umbra　Lead；”　she　voxed。　“Negative。　I　say　again　negative　on　that。　Get　everything　up　in
support　or　that　column　is　dead。”
As　things　stood；　she　and　the　other　Umbra　birds　had　less　than　twenty　minutes　left　on　site　before
fuel　needs　would　force　them　to　extend　for　home。　The　Raptors　probably　had　less　than　ten。
The　enemy　fighter…bombers；　all　of　them　Hell　Talons　with　lurid　paint…schemes；　were　already
screaming　down　on　the　beleaguered　Imperial　ground　forces；　spilling　out　munitions　pods　that　lit　up
the　desert　with　blankets　of　fuel…air　explosive。　Tanks；　weapons　carriers；　trucks　and　men　all　burned。
Frantic　Hydra　fire　stitched　up　into　the　air。
She　saw　a　black　cruciform　shape—one　of　the　Raptors—hammer　in　under　her；　gunning　for　one　of
the　stooping　Talons。　It　missed；　then　carried　on　low；　strafing　the　enemy　tanks。　There　was　no　sign　of
Del　Ruth　or　Van　Tull；　but　she　could　hear　their　urgent　calls—both　brawling　now。　They　were　still　in
the　game。
Jagdea　did　a　high　speed　barrel…roll；　and　came　in　on　a　Talon　that　was　just　commencing　its　run。
Her　first　las…bursts　went　wide；　but　they　were　enough　to　scare　it　and　force　it　to　pull　out　steeply；
struggling　with　the　weight　of　its　unreleased　payload。　She　rolled　back；　corrected　her　speed；　and　fired
again；　ripping　las…shots　through　its　aft　section。　The　whole　machine　disintegrated；　a　dry；　fire…less
burst　of　metal　parts　and　fuselage　sections　erupting　with　a　cough　of　smoke。　Large　pieces　of　debris
whickered　backwards　across　her　path；　too　fast　for　her　to　avoid　collision。　She　heard　impacts　across
her　armour。　Something　spinning　and　black　cracked　off　her　canopy　and　left　a　star…shaped　craze　in　the
armoured　glass。　Something　else　smacked　across　her　wing　and　damaged　an　elevator；　forcing　her　to
compensate　hard　with　trim　and　rudder。　Yet　another　something—a　large　piece　of　drive　unit；　she
guessed—wallowed　into　her　and　bounced　hard　off　serial　Zero…Two’s　snout。　That　nearly　knocked　her
out　of　the　sky。
Jagdea　held　on　and　brought　the　Thunderbolt　true。　Sitting　up　in　her　harness；　she　could　see　the
buckled　plating　of　her　bird’s　nose　cone。　She　had　several　damage　warning　tones。
She　checked　her　display。　Lascannons　off…line。　Either　the　impact　had　buckled　the　cannon　barrels
themselves；　or　they’d　severed　the　feeds　to　the　ammunition　battery。
She　cancelled　the　alerts；　then　flipped　the　toggle　over　to　quad。　Hard　guns　it　was　then；　the　only
ordnance　she　had　left。
A　Raptor　went　over　her　in　the　confusion；　climbing　hard。　Right　in　its　wake　came　three　Razors；
unloading　on　it　relentlessly；　then　Van　Tull；　chasing　the　chasers。
Jagdea　peeled　over　and　hit　the　burners；　rising　fast　and　acute　at　Van　Tull’s　four。　She　closed　in
time　to　see　him　score。　Umbra　Three’s　lascannons　sparked　brightly　and　the　lead　Razor　blew　out
furiously　like　a　dirty；　smoky　promethium　fire。　Van　Tull　had　to　make　a　violent　bank　out　to　avoid　the
falling；　burning　lump　as　it　toppled　back　into　gravity’s　embrace。
Jagdea　stayed　on；　sick　in　her　mouth　from　the　terrible　stresses。　She　barked　off　a　hail　of　fire；　but
she　couldn’t　save　the　Raptor。　Struck　from　behind；　it　wiggled；　then　shook。　Pieces　of　it　fluttered　off
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and　it　started　to　kick　out　black　smoke。　It　peeled　away；　straight　down；　flames　encasing　it。　She　saw　an
eject。　A　chute　in　the　air。
The　remaining　Razors　had　broken　as　soon　as　they’d　got　their　kill；　mainly；　she　supposed；　to　shake
her　off。　They　dropped　below　her；　wide；　turning　out。　She　pulled　a　neat　vertical　reverse；　and　came
back　down　after　one　of　them。
It　was　red。　She　glimpsed　some　sort　of　nose　art　that　depicted　evisceration。　It　banked　wildly；
trying　to　evade　as　it　plunged　towards　the　blazing　desert　floor。　She　let　it　slide　through　her　sights；　left
to　right；　then　bellied　round　so　it　came　back　again；　rolling　through　right　to　left。　Tone　lock。
Her　thumb　depressed。　She　felt　the　shudder　and　stammer　of　the　autocannons；　saw　the　streaking
shells。　The　Razor；　apparently　unharmed；　levelled　out；　then　folded　up；　bleeding　smoke；　and　fell　out
of　the　air。
Jagdea　rolled　off。　She　saw　the　chute　now；　the　Raptor　pilot；　swaying　down　through　the　coiling
smoke。
He　burst。
He　spurted　apart；　like　vapour；　like　shredded　meat。　His　chute　ripped　into　tatters　and　collapsed。
One　of　the　unknown　pattern　enemy　machines　whipped　past；　flank　guns　still　firing。
Rage　engulfed　her。　She　hammered　around　after　the　long…necked　killer；　but　the　G　was　too　much。
She　only　just　got　her　mask　off　before　her　breakfast　ejected　itself；　squeezed　out　of　her　body　by　the
turning　force。
“God…Emperor…　God…Emperor…”　she　gasped；　hoarse。　She　started　to　grey　out；　even　though　she
was　now　steady　and　level　again。　She　was　light…headed。
She　vomited　again；　then　pulled　the　mask　back　on；　sucking　in　the　air…mix。　Her　mouth　tasted　foul；
acid。　She　knew　she’d　been　flying　level　for　too　long；　even　before　the　lock　alarm　sounded。
There　was　something　on　her。　She　tried　to　twist　out；　but　her　arms　were　weak；　her　body　feverish。
She　felt　several　solid　hits。
Taking　a　deep　breath；　forcing　herself　together；　she　banked　to　port；　and　stormed　through　a　quintet
of　Hell　Talons　that　had　been　coming　in　on　the　column。　She　didn’t　eve