Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第17部分

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of　Hell　Talons　that　had　been　coming　in　on　the　column。　She　didn’t　even　have　time　to　fire。
Her　attacker　was　evidently　good。　He　stayed　with　her；　maintaining　an　intermittent　lock。
Snaking　furiously；　she　scanned　the　sky　and　her　rear　picters。　Where　was　he？　Where　was　he？
There。　Right　at　her　six；　textbook。　Another　of　the　long…necked　raiders。　She　got　a　glimpse　of　it。
Enough　to　see　that；　whatever　these　new　machines　were；　they　weren’t　vector…thrust。　No　nozzles。　Fast；
slick；　but　conventional。
Jagdea　rose；　viffed；　and　leap…frogged　backwards；　forcing　the　bat　to　slice　in　under　her。
Then　she　dropped　down　on　its　tail　and　demonstrated　how　a　gun…kill　really　worked。
The　bat　went　up　like　a　flare。
Jagdea　pulled　away；　avoiding　flak。　Over　the　vox；　the　two　remaining　Raptors　signalled　they　were
done；　fuel　limit　reached。　They　were　pulling　out。
“Three？　Six？　You　still　with　me？”　Jagdea　called。
“Affirmative；　Lead；”　Van　Tull　replied。
A　pause。
“Confirm　that；　Lead；”　voxed　Del　Ruth。　Her　voice　was　brittle。　“Little　busy…”
Wheeling　around；　Jagdea　saw　Del　Ruth　about　a　kilometre　west　and　a　thousand　metres　higher。
She　was　dogging　it　out　with　two　Razors　that　kept　high…turning　her　and　spoiling　her　attempts　to
break。　Del　Ruth’s　Thunderbolt　was　making　white　smoke。
Jagdea　hit　the　throttle　and　chopped　in　right　across　the　bats；　forcing　them　to　break　instead。　She
reversed；　inverting；　seeing　the　killing　ground　swing　up　above　her。
“I’ve　got　them；”　she　voxed。　“Break　off　and　run；　Aggie。”
“Yes；　mamzel；”　Agguila　Del　Ruth　replied　over　the　vox。　“Sorry。”
“Get　home　alive；”　Jagdea　ordered。
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She　rolled　back。　With　Del　Ruth　and　the　Raptors　gone；　there　was　only　herself　and　Van　Tull　left　in
the　air。
Apart　from　the　blizzard　of　bats。
Three　minutes　fuel　left　before　critical。
Jagdea　saw　a　Razor　and　swung　onto　it；　but　managed　to　pick　up　two　or　three　more　behind。　She
rolled　and　turned；　managing　to　get　a　seventy　degree　deflection　on　one　of　them。　But　when　she　pulled
the　trigger；　nothing　came。
The　violent　turn　was　putting　nine　and　a　half　Gs　on　her　machine；　so　much　that　the　electric
autoloaders　couldn’t　raise　ammunition　to　the　cannons。
In　hindsight；　Jagdea　was　glad　she’d　already　lost　her　breakfast。　At　nine　and　a　half；　so　weighty　the
actual　guns　had　slowed　down；　she’d　have　choked　and　died　a　messy；　stupid　death。
She　came　out　of　the　mashing　turn；　lined　up　on　a　Razor；　and　wounded　it　with　gunfire。
“Time　you　were　gone；”　a　voice　said　over　the　vox。　It　was　Blansher。　He　torched　in；　with　Asche；
Waldon；　Zemmic　and　Ranfre　in　his　wake。
“Good　to　see　you；”　she　called。
“You　might　not　think　so　when　we　get　home；”　Blansher　advised；　shooting　his　way　through　a
loose　formation　of　Hell　Talons。　“This　is　simply　extrication。　You　and　Van　Tull　and　Del　Ruth…　get
out　now。”
“Del　Ruth　has　already　gone。　We　have　to　cover　the　column。”
“Get　serious；　Bree。　Have　you　seen　how　many　bats　are　in　the　air？　Besides；　there’s　not　much　left
of　it。”
Peeling　out；　Jagdea　looked　down。　On　the　desert　floor　below；　there　was　an　awful　lot　of　fire　and
wreckage；　but　only　a　few　Imperial　vehicles　still　moving。　Despite　the　fighters’　best　efforts；　the　Hell
Talons　had　bombed　most　of　the　column　into　the　hereafter。
“Can　we　go？”　Blansher　called。
“Yeah。　Yes。　Umbra；　disengage　and　quit。”
The　seven　Phantine　Thunderbolts　broke　out　of　the　sky…fight　and　lit　up　eastwards。　Behind　them；
the　crust　of　the　desert　blazed。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　12。02
Now　Bree　Jagdea　understood　the　full　meaning　of　Milan　Bansher’s　remark。　Showered　and　cleaned
up；　she　stood　in　the　dispersal　chamber　of　the　FSB’s　main　prefab；　listening　to　the　air　coolers　hum。
Facing　her　was　the　base　commander；　Marcinon；　and　Wing　Leader　Ortho　Blaguer；　the　Raptors’　chief。
Blaguer；　a　tight…faced；　high　cheek…boned　man　in　his　fifties；　had　air　command　over　Jagdea　in　the
base。　His　flight　armour　was　as　black　as　his　wing’s　planes。
“You　were　ordered　to　pull　out；”　said　Marcinon。
She　hadn’t　liked　him　from　the　start。　Reedy　voice；　gangly　frame；　an　adam’s　apple　that　appeared
larger　than　his　nose。　Augmetics　down　his　left　side。　“I　was；　sir。　However；　I　appreciated　the　situation
differently；　as　is　the　purview　of　a　flight　commander。　There　were　lives　to　be　saved。”
“And　to　be　lost；”　said　Blaguer。　Jagdea　didn’t　like　him　either。　Oily；　groomed；　aloof；　the　worst
stereotype　of　Navy　aviators。
“Indeed；　sir；”　said　Jagdea。
“Gocel　Operations　decided　that　was　a　fight　not　worth　the　winning　and　called　you　off；”　said
Marcinon。　“However；　five　of　your　pilots…　let　me　see　now…　Milan　Blansher；　Larice　Asche；　Katry
Waldon；　Orlonz　Zemmic　and　Goran　Ranfre…　disobeyed　Operations。　They　launched；　committed；
and　fought。”
“To　get　me　and　Van　Tull　free；”　said　Jagdea。
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“Because　you　had　suggested　they　should。　This　is　not　good　enough；　Jagdea。　I　intend　to　discipline
all　of　you；　particularly　you；　commander。　Throne；　if　we　didn’t　need　pilots　so　badly；　I’d　have　you　all
off　active。”
Marcinon’s　face　had　become　flushed。　A　vein　bulged　in　his　forehead。
“Actually；　I　don’t　think　you　can；”　a　voice　said。
Jagdea　looked　round。　An　ayatani　priest　had　stepped　into　the　room；　followed　by　Blansher　and
Marquall。
“Kautas？”　Blaguer　sneered。　“Go　away　father；　there’s　no　booze　here。”
Ayatani　Kautas　grinned　at　the　Raptor　chief。　“Don’t　worry；　boss。　I’ve　had　plenty　to　get　me　going。
I’ve　been　chatting　with　Mister　Blansher　here。　Fine　fellow。　Second…in…command　of　Umbra；　so　Mister
Marquall　tells　me。　This　is　Marquall。　Stout　fellow。　He　introduced　me　to　Mister　Blansher。”
Marcinon　shuffled　his　papers　and　slates。　“You’re　drunk；　father。　Go　away。”
“Drunk？　Yes。　Right…　well；　who’d　have　thought　it？”　Kautas　smirked。　“You　can’t　discipline
Umbra　Flight。　In　fact　you　can’t　order　them　around　at　all。　Know　why？”
“Oh；　please；　illuminate　me；”　said　Marcinon　wearily。
“You’re　Navy。　Imperial　Navy。　Every　last　one　of　you。　You’ve　zero　authority　over　the　Phantine。”
“This　is　ridiculous；”　Blaguer　began；　rising。
“Shut　it；　hair…oil；”　snapped　Kautas。　Jagdea　had　to　cover　a　snigger。　“Sit　the　hell　down。　You’re
Imperial　Navy。”
“Yes；　father；”　Marcinon　said；　evidently　ill　at　ease。
“Right。　Navy。　No　authority　over　the　Imperial　Guard　whatsoever。”
“None；”　said　Marcinon；　his　teeth　gritted；　suddenly　aware　of　where　this　was　going。
“Then　shut　up；”　said　Kautas。　“The　Phantine　fliers　are　Imperial　Guard。　An　exception。　An　oddity。
Their　world　is—how　can　I　put　it—just　sky。　So　when　they　raise　Guard　fundings；　most　of　them　are
airborne。　They’re　not　Navy。　Not　now；　never　will　be。　You　have　no　jurisdiction。”
“Thank　you　for　enlightening　us；　father；”　Marcinon　said。　“Commander　Jagdea？”
“I　think　it’s　all　been　said；　sir；”　she　replied。　“The　Phantine　XX　are　Imperial　Guard。　We　stand
here；　on　this　world；　willing　and　eager　to　fly　alongside　the　fine　aviators　of　the　Navy；　in　a　cooperative
venture　for　the　good　of　mankind。　In　the　spirit　of　that　cooperation；　I　accept　your　censure　and　offer　my
apologies。　But　please　do　not　presume　to　lecture　me　again。　It　would　open　a　can　of　worms；　sirs；　and
likely　involve　the　offices　of　the　Lord　Militant　and　the　Commissariat。　Our　lives　are　too　full　and　too
urgent　for　such　wasteful　complications。”
She　saluted　and　turned　on　her　heels。
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DAY　263
The　Makanites；　13。33
The　previous　day；　fate—or　the　beneficence　of　the　God…Emperor　of　Man—had　decreed　them　clear
passage　up　through　the　cold　winding　passes　through　the　mountains。　Not　a　hint　of　war　had　touched
them；　not　an　auspex　contact；　not　even　the　distant　murmur　of　a　warplane　overhead。　Their　flasks　and
cans　replenished　with　cool；　brackish　water　from　mountain　rills；　they　had　raced　ahead；　buoyed　with　a
sense　of　sudden　expectation　and　hope。　At　nightfall；　where　previously　LeGuin　had　ordered　a　rest　stop
to　take　advantage　of　the　lower　temperatures；　they　had　pressed　on；　edging　on　through　the　dark；
grinding　along　the　bottoms　of　gorges　and　rock　cuts；　thundering　up　across　pebble…strewn　slopes。
At　some　hour　after　midnight；　the　column　passed　over　the　spine　of　the　mountains　at　a　place　called
Ragnar’s　Cut；　and　began　its　descent　into　the　broad　foothills　of　the　north。
Viltry　rode　with　the　Line　of　Death。　He　had　been　offered　the　place　of　a　gunner　killed　on　the　road
some　days　before。　He　wasn’t　expected　to　perform　any　tasks。　He　was　simply　a　passenger。
LeGuin　took　a　turn　driving　in　the　mid…period；　to　relieve　the　weary　Emdeen。　Emdeen　climbed
into　the　commander’s　turret　seat　and　immediately　fell　asleep。　In　the　bare…metal　rocker…seat　of　the
sponson　below；　Viltry　found　slumber　harder　to　achieve。　The　noise　of　the　Pardus　tank　was　ferocious；
and　its　motion　far　more　violent　than　any　plane；　even　under　bad　turbulence。　It　was　a　vibration；　a
shaking；　not　at　all　like　the　fluid　variances　of　flight。　Loose　rocks　thrown　up　by　the　treads　clattered
against　the　heavy　hull　and　the　track　guards。　It　was　hot；　despite　the　night…chill　outside；　and　the　moist
air　reeked　of　smoke　and　oil　and　unwashed　flesh。　There　was　also　nothing　to　see。　The　night　was
moonless；　the　dark　enclosing。　The　convoy　elements　moved　with　hooded　lamps。　Within　the　tank；
there　was　merely　the　red　cabin　light　and　the　glow　of　the　thick…glassed　displays。
When　LeGuin　called　out　that　they　had　at　last　passed　over　the　top　of　the　Makanite　Ridge；　Viltry
simply　had　to　take　the　tanker’s　word　for　it。
Dawn　came　in；　grey　and　heavy。　Emdeen　resumed　his　driving；　and　LeGuin　and　Viltry　sat　in　the
turret　with　the　hatches　open。　The　air；　cold　and　damp　and　filled　with　exhaust　from　the　long　line　of
trundling　machines；　was　at　least　refreshing　after　the　stuffy　interior。
There　was　still　very　little　to　see。
The　trail　curled　down　through　bare；　grey　foothills；　snaking　through　a　boulder…strewn　landscape
that　seemed　devoid　of　natural　growth。　Mist　choked　the　valley　beyond；　stealing　away　any　distant
view。　Behind　them；　the　Makanites　were　towers　of　shadow　against　a　bleached；　starved　sky。
The　sun　rose；　but　the　mist　refused　to　clear；　and　they　bore　on　down　into　a　layer　of　haze　and　poor
visibility。
They　passed　by　three　Imperial　troop　trucks；　abandoned　by　the　side　of　the　track；　evidence　of　a
previous　column　fleeing　this　way；　and　then；　at　about　ten；　overhauled　the　tail　end　of　it。　It　was　twice
the　size　of　LeGuin’s　contingent；　and　moving　much　more　slowly。
They　fell　in　pace　with　it。　LeGuin　moved　his　machine　right　to　the　head　of　his　section　of　the
formation；　and　made　vox　contact　with　the　second　column’s　leaders。　From　the　exchanges　Viltry
could　overhear；　their　new　companions　were　travelling　under　the　same　sort　of　ad　hoc　command　as
LeGuin’s　segment。　Proper　lines　of　command　through　the　tank　and　infantry　forces　had　long　since
been　lost。　It　appeared　the　tankers　like　LeGuin—due　to　the　fact　that　they　were　now　the　defending
escort　of　thousands　of　truck…bound　troops—were　calling　the　shots　by　necessity。
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LeGuin　seemed　particularly　pleased　to　hear　that　several　tank　crews　from　his　own　regiment　were
riding　with　the　other　column。　He　exchanged　tart；　joking　vox　conversations　with　a　captain　called
Woll。
“Good　to　hear　his　voice；”　LeGuin　said　to　Viltry　as　he　settled　the　vox…horn　back　onto　its　cradle。
“I’d　heard　rumours　that　Old　Strontium　had　been　destroyed　at　the　Trinity　Gates。　The　old　rascal。”
Viltry　understood　LeGuin’s　delight。　He　too　would　have　been　happy　to　hear　from　old　friends
presumed　dead。
Not　that　it　was　going　to　happen。
The　mist　began　to　thin；　but　the　day　did　not　lighten。　They　had　reached　sparse　forest；　and　the
limits　of　what　seemed　to　be　a　metalled　roadway。　The　valley　of　the　Lida；　heading　down　all　the　way　to
the　coast。
Others　had　come　this　way　before　them。　There　were　more　abandoned　vehicles　on　or　by　the　road；
many　stripped　of　equipment。　They　passed　a　number　of　farm　stations　and　agro…complexes　that　had
been　deserted　by　their　inhabitants；　possibly　weeks　before。　The　places　had　been　comprehensively
looted　of　all　stock。　Store…barns　and　silos　were　empty；　habs　ransacked　or　burned　out。　Livestock　pens
and　the　huge　tin　rotundas　of　poultry　hatcheries　were　broken　down　and　empty。
In　some　fields；　they　sighted　rows　of　fresh　graves。
The　road　approached　the　river；　following　its　course。　More　ruined　farms　stood　along　its　banks；
homesteads　and　land…parcel　stations；　then　a　whole　village；　empty　and　gutted。
At　noon；　they　came　up　on　a　line　of　burned…out；　exploded　vehicle　wrecks；　jumbled　along
kilometres　of　road　that　had　been　badly　holed　and　cratered。　The　action　was　at　least　three　days　old。
Tanks　with　dozer　blades；　and　the　few　remaining　Atlas　tractors；　had　to　clear　some　of　the　wrecks　aside
to　permit　progress。　It　had　been　an　air…strike；　Viltry　could　see　all　the　signs。
After　that　damage　became　more　commonplace。　The　remains　of　other　convoy　elements　littered
further　shot…up　sections　of　highway。　Unburied；　blackened　corpses　lay　in　the　roadside　ditches。　More
bodies；　swollen；　floated　face…down　in　the　pools　of　a　ruined　roadside　hydroponics　system。　All　of　the
next　three　townships　had　been　bombed　to　extinction　by　heavy　raids　rather　than　just　looted　and
forsaken。
This　was　now　an　eerie；　miserable　landscape　to　drive　through。　Thousands　of　hectares　of　fieldsystems
had　been　burned　black　by　uncontrolled　firebomb　damage。　Farms；　villages；　entire　townships
had　been　levelled。　There　were　stretches　of　forest　where　nothing　remained　but　blast…splintered　trunks
protruding　from　cindered　earth。　Craters；　many　filled　with　rainwater；　punctured　the　landscape　for
kilometres。　Smashed　hydroponic　systems　leaked　rivers　of　algae…rich　soup　down　across　the　roadway
from　ruptured　dykes。　The　column　moved　on；　hissing　water　up　into　the　air。
It　was　no　longer　mist　that　stained　the　sky；　it　was　smoke　residue　from　the　days　of　raiding　and
firedust　kicked　up　by　their　wheels　and　tracks。　Down　the　wide；　wounded　valley；　their　scopes
identified　other　communities　shelled　to　death；　wreathed　with　the　grey　vapour　of　firestorms　that　had
blazed；　unchecked；　for　days。
At　13。33；　an　alert　was　given。　Ten　kilometres　north；　bright　flashes　underlit　the　clouds；　and　they
heard　the　crump　of　munitions。　A　few　minutes　later；　a　formation　of　enemy　warplanes　was　sighted
heading　south　at　medium　altitude。　The　machines；　their　payloads　already　dropped；　ignored　the
straggling　column；　but　there　was　no　doubt　they　had　been　sighted。　The　contact　would　be　called　in。
The　Imperial　column　had　begun　crossing　a　miraculously　unscathed　bridge　over　a　Lidan
tributary；　just　after　14。00；　when　a　second　alert　came　through。
It　had　started　to　rain；　and　the　auspex　refused　to　give　a　clean　track。　An　air　of　confusion　and　panic
rose　in　the　convoy　around　them。　LeGuin　cleared　his　weapon　batteries；　and　then　got　on　the　vox。
“Say　again。　Track　reading。　Confirm　track　reading　for　hostiles。”
Just　frantic　chatter。
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“Come　on！”　LeGuin　snarled　into　the　vox。　“This　is　Line　of　Death！　Give　me　a　track　reading！　Get　it
together！”
Viltry　opened　the　top　hatch　and　craned　up　at　the　overcast　sky；　smelling　the　cold；　wet　air；
listening。　The　sound　of　agitated　voices　came　from　all　around；　throbbing　engines；　the　noise　of　turret
motors　as　weapons　traversed；　the　timpani　of　rain　pattering　off　the　armour。
And　there；　concealed　behind　it　all；　the　warble　of　vector…thrust　engines。　Viltry　glanced　anxiously
down　at　LeGuin。
“What？”　LeGuin　asked；　standing　up。
“Hear　it？”
“Where？　Wait…　yes。　It’s　ahead　of　us。”
“No；”　said　Viltry。　“That’s　an　acoustic　bounce　off　the　valley。　It’s　behind　us。”
LeGuin　instantly　began　spinning　the　Executioner’s　turret　to　face　rear。
“Get　us　off　the　bridge！”　he　yelled　at　Emdeen。
“Get　moving！”　Viltry　shouted　from　the　hatch　to　the　trucks　all　around。　“Come　on！　Clear　the　way！
Get　these　vehicles　rolling！”
Over　two…thirds　of　the　column　had　still　to　cross　the　bridge’s　ancient　pilings。
Viltry　heard　a　change　in　the　vector　note。
“Here　they　come！”　he　yelled。
Someone　back　down　the　convoy　had　at　last　got　a　decent　track　too。　From　the　end　of　the　long　line
of　vehicles　forward；　weapon　mounts　began　to　fire　at　the　sky。　Pintle…weapons；　elevated　cannons；　the
few　Hydra　platforms　still　carrying　munitions。　Small…arms　opened　up　as　well；　men　standing　up　in　the
back　of　trucks　to　unload　las…rifles　into　the　sky。　Hundreds　of　other　Guardsmen；　unarmed　or　too
scared　to　make　such　a　bold　defiance；　scrambled　out　of　their　transports　and　ran　for　cover　in　the　trees
and　amongst　the　reed　beds　of　the　tributary。
The　firing　was　intense。　The　convoy’s　elevated　shooting　filled　the　rainy　sky　with　a　blizzard　of
white　hot　or　illuminated　rounds。　There　was　still　no　sign　of　the　hostiles。
“They’re　wasting　most　of　it…”　Viltry　said；　noticing　that　LeGuin　at　least　had　not　started　firing。
LeGuin　was　about　to　speak。
Something　went　over；　northwards；　low　and　very　fast。　The　jet　wash　shook　them　and　their　ears
popped。　A　brief　hint　of　something　mauve　or　dark　red。
Less　than　a　second　later；　there　was　a　dull；　hollow　thump。　Rippling　around　itself；　a　large　ball　of
flame　boiled　up　into　the　sky　on　a　neck　of　smoke　and　sparks　some　three　hundred　metres　behind　them。
Viltry　saw　the　second　bat；　a　Hell　Talon。　It　had　just　sat　its　bomb　load　on　the　very　tail　end　of　the
column；　and　had　clearly　hit　something　significant…　a　tank；　an　ammo…carrier；　maybe。　A　curtain　of
bright；　almost　neon…white　flame　rushed　into　the　air　way　behind　them。　Small　black　specks；　which
Viltry　realised　were　very　probably　large　pieces　of　detonating　vehicle；　flew　sideways　out　of　the　flashwake。
The　Talon　kept　low；　switching　to　cannon　to　rake　the　convoy。　The　noise　of　its　jets　was　terrifying。
Crouched　in　what　seemed　like　a　very　fragile　drum　of　metal；　Viltry　experienced　the　psychological
impact　of　an　air　attack　for　the　first　time。　He　virtually　froze；　his　body　refusing　to　respond。　His　teeth
chattered。
No；　his　teeth　were　chattering　because　LeGuin　had　opened　fire　with　the　main　weapons；　the　twinlinked
autocannons；　adding　his　force　to　the　AA　storm。　The　whole　turret　shook；　and　started　to　turn　as
it　tracked。　Gripping　the　edges　of　the　hatch；　Viltry　stared　at　the　incoming　Talon。　A　stream　of　green
tracer…shot　from　a　Hydra　nearly　struck　it。　It　banked　slightly；　almost　daintily；　refusing　to　be　deterred
from　its　long；　hammering　run。
Its　cannons　were　firing。　Fast　blinks　of　light…flash　flickered　around　the　recessed　weapon　mounts。
Whipping；　concussive　impacts　stripped　up　the　line　of　the　road。　A　cargo…8　shuddered　violently；　as　if
men　with　rock…drills　were　working　in　its　flatbed。　Its　canvas　cargo　hood　shredded；　its　windows　blew
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out　and　its　tyres　burst。　Bodywork　seams　split　and　exhaled　dust　and　smoke。　A　second　cargo…8；　just
ahead　of　it；　lurched　and　immediately　caught　fire。　Viltry　saw　men　burning　like　brush　torches
staggering　out　of　the　cab。　Still　running；　the　truck　left　the　road；　bounced　down　the　embankment；　and
rolled　on　its　side　in　the　reed　beds；　hissing　up　a　thick　cloud　of　steam　as　river　water　hit　fire。
The　Talon　rushed　overhead。　Viltry　flinched　as　one　of　its　shells　glanced　off　the　Line’s　forearmour。
LeGuin’s　shots　streamed　after　it；　but　missed。
“Not　enough　deflection！”　Viltry　shouted。
“What？”
“Deflection！　You’re　not　anticipating　him　right！”
“Can　you　do　better？”　LeGuin　asked。
“I　can　try；”　Viltry　replied。
LeGuin　ordered　Mattedes　down　into　the　lower　compartment　to　free　an　autoloader　that　was
sticking。　He　himself　switched　seats　to　the　commander’s　position　and　allowed　Viltry　to　drop　into　the
gunner’s　seat。
“Bear　in　mind　this　isn’t　a　dedicated　AA　vehicle；”　LeGuin　cautioned。
“I　know；”　said　Viltry。
“I　mean；　we　don’t　ha