Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第18部分

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gunner’s　seat。
“Bear　in　mind　this　isn’t　a　dedicated　AA　vehicle；”　LeGuin　cautioned。
“I　know；”　said　Viltry。
“I　mean；　we　don’t　have　a　Hydra’s　elevation；　or　targeters。　I’m　just　trying　to　throw　up　some　fire。”
“I　know；”　Viltry　repeated。　He　was　looking　around　the　turret　fixtures；　familiarising　himself　with
them。　“Traverse？”
“There；”　said　LeGuin；　pointing　to　a　two…way　clutch　lever。　“You　know　what　you’re　doing？”
“Well；　there　are　some　differences；　but　it’s　not　that　different　from　a　Marauder　turret。”　Viltry　sat
back；　getting　used　to　the　prismatic　sight；　and　test…swung　the　turret　about。　“You　were　doing　pretty
well；　by　the　way；”　Viltry　said。　“But　it’s　a　predictive　thing。　You’re　not　used　to　airborne　targets。
You’re　thinking　they’re　going　to　move　like　an　arrow　or　a　dart；　but　vector…thrust　don’t　do　that。
They’ll　come　up　or　to　the　side　in　a　weird　way。”
Emdeen　had　them　off　the　bridge　now。　Parts　of　the　rearward　column　was　burning　fiercely。
“More　coming；”　LeGuin　called；　one　hand　up　to　his　earphones。　The　Hydra　batteries　on　the　road
started　up　again。　Viltry　strained　to　see　out　of　the　limited　scope。
“They’re　coming　for　the　bridge。　They　want　this　column　stopped　right　here。”
Viltry　started　the　turret　turning；　and　then　began　firing。　God…Emperor；　it　was　slow　and　lumbering；
and　almost　like　firing　blind。　The　Talon　went　over；　unharmed。　Viltry　began　to　realise　why　LeGuin
had　been　struggling。　The　Line　of　Death　had　been　built　for　savage　anti…personnel　action；　not　air
cover。
He　swung　the　turret　back　fast；　immediately　picking　up　a　second　Talon　on　its　inward　path。　Viltry
used　the　smoke　plumes　from　burning　wrecks　along　the　road　as　a　scale；　then　began　firing　again　at　the
air　above　the　bridge；　the　point　at　which　he　was　sure　the　hostile　would　start　to　lift　out。
Elevated　as　high　as　they　would　go；　the　Line　of　Death’s　twin　cannons　punched　heavy　fire　at　the
clouds；　and　that　stream　began　to　swish　in　a　horse…tail　as　Viltry　dragged　the　turret　around；　aiming　not
for　the　Talon；　but　for　where　the　Talon　would　be　when　the　rounds　had　covered　the　distance。　Nearly；
nearly…
The　Hell　Talon；　blue　striped　with　bone…white；　tried　to　viff　hard　at　the　last　second；　but　its　forward
rate　was　too　high　for　any　kind　of　instant　adjustment。　It　flew　right　through　the　Line’s　fusillade。
Riddled；　the　airframe　tore　open；　fragments　flying　off。　The　tank　rocked　as　it　went　over。　The　Talon
sliced　across　the　main　river　on　one　wing…tip；　then　pancaked　and　hit　the　far　shore。　A　throaty
explosion　followed。
Matredes；　Emdeen　and　the　other　crewmen　started　whooping　and　cheering。　LeGuin　punched
Viltry　on　the　shoulder。
“That　was　mainly　luck；”　said　Viltry。
“Another　one！”　the　loader　shouted；　looking　at　an　auspex　repeater。
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Viltry　swung　around　again。　It　was　coming　in　much　lower。　He　wasn’t　going　to　get　anything　like
as　good　a　lead　on　this　shot。　He　fired　anyway；　washing　the　turret　back　and　forth　to　extend　the　cone；
an　old　tail…gunner’s　trick。
All　of　it　missed；　but　the　raking　fire　restricted　the　Talon’s　line　of　attack；　and　it　flew　straight　into
sustained　fire　from　a　Hydra。　The　moment　the　four　long…barrelled　autocannons　of　the　Hydra　found
the　enemy　machine；　the　targeter　system　took　over　and　held　the　guns　right　on　it。　On　powered
traverse；　the　Hydra　managed　to　maintain　heavy　hits　for　over　one　hundred　and　five　degrees　of　turn。
The　Talon　began　to　climb　and　then　blew　up　in　a　ragged　yellow　flash；　raining　debris　down　over　the
river　and　road。
After　that；　no　more　raiders　came　down　the　valley　for　a　while。　LeGuin　shook　Viltry　by　the　hand。
Viltry　was　breathing　hard；　pulse　racing。　For　the　first　time　since　G　for　Greta　had　been　brought
down；　he　felt　as　if　he　had　a　purpose。　A　worth。　He’d　helped　keep　the　bridge　clear。
The　feeling　tasted　a　little　like　the　confidence　he’d　been　slowly　winning　back　on　Enothis。　The
reassurance　of　a　point　to　life　that　Beqa　Mayer’s　company　had　begun　to　coax　back　into　him。
The　crash　had　torn　that　confidence　away；　of　course。　But　now　he　felt　oddly　centred。　War　claimed
men。　They　died。　Machines　crashed。　Leaders；　like　Viltry；　felt　guilt　and　remorse。　It　would　ever　be　the
way；　for　in　the　galaxy　of　man；　there　is　only　war。
For　one　tiny　but　valuable　moment；　sitting　there　in　the　Executioner’s　turret；　surrounded　by　the
cheering　and　bellowing　of　men　he　hardly　knew；　Viltry　realised　that　guilt　and　remorse　would　truly　be
his　to　bear　if　he　didn’t　make　the　effort　to　live。　To　live；　to　fight　the　foes　of　man；　and　to　make　his　way
back　to　find　the　woman　who　had　shown　kindness　to　a　stranger。
The　column　began　to　move　again。　The　rain　grew　heavier；　and　they　pulled　the　hatches　shut。　The
valley　ahead　was　an　ashen；　dispirited　place；　and　there　was　a　great　distance　to　go　before　they　reached
the　cities；　far　away；　where　the　skies　were　already　banded　with　black　fire…smoke。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　19。12
In　the　space　of　about　thirty　hours；　their　alarm　bracelets　had　fired　eighteen　times。　With　jarring
regularity；　they　were　stirred　from　exercise；　prep；　sleep；　meals　and　standby　in　order　to　rush　to　the
shelters　as　enemy　formations　passed　through　their　airspace。　Each　period　of　waiting　in　the　gloom　of
the　dug…outs　did　nothing　to　soothe　already　stretched　nerves。　There　was　a　fight　between　two　Navy
fitters　and　some　PDF　troopers；　and　a　face…to…face　row　between　Ranfre　and　one　of　the　Raptor　pilots；
which　was　only　defused　by　the　calm　intervention　of　Milan　Blansher。
The　worst　argument　occurred　between　Jagdea　and　Blaguer。　The　FSB　had　lofted　only　three　snap
calls　in　the　period；　and　for　the　rest　of　the　time　it　had　hidden　under　its　camo　at　the　first　sign　of　an
alert。
“What　possible　good　are　we　doing？”　she　was　heard　shouting。
Blaguer’s　argument；　supported　by　Marcinon　and　the　leader　of　the　Lightning　wing；　was　that
Gocel　FSB　was　under…strength　as　an　intercept　force　and　should　therefore　pick　its　targets。　Seven　of
the　alerts　had　been　triggered　by　mass…raid　formations　of　bombers；　three　or　four　hundred　machines
strong；　passing　north　towards　the　coast。　Gocel’s　three　wings　would　barely　make　a　dent　in　such
formidable　numbers；　and　launches　would　betray　the　base’s　carefully　concealed　location。　There　was
no　doubt　that　a　mass…raid　force　would　spare　a　bomber　pack　to　annihilate　the　source　of　the　ambushers
if　it　was　discovered。
“Better　to　stay　low；　observe　concealment　discipline；　and　only　respond　to　targets　we　can　deal
with　safely；”　Blaguer　told　her。
“But　in　another　day　or　two；　there’ll　be　so　many　bats　up　there　we　won’t　be　flying　at　all。　We’re
supposed　to　be　intercept；　so　let’s　damn　well　intercept　something。”
“You’re　talking　about　a　wilful　and　suicidal　approach　to　the　prosecution　of　this　conflict。”
“I’m　talking；”　growled　Jagdea；　“about　fighting　this　war　instead　of　sitting　it　out。”
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Late　in　the　afternoon；　the　fourth　sortie　of　the　day　was　permitted。　Coastal　Operations　had
requested　urgent　data…gathering　from　its　FSBs　along　the　Saroja。　There　was　a　pressing　need　to　assess
the　disposition　of　inbound　retreat　elements　so　the　Munitorum　could　more　effectively　accomplish　the
mass　land　evacuation；　an　operation　already　beginning　at　Ezraville　and　Theda。　Operations　also　hoped
to　locate　one　or　more　of　the　enemy　land　carriers。　Given　the　terrible　strength　of　the　raids　now　being
suffered；　it　was　presumed　that　several　mass　carriers　were　currently　established　in　the　Northern
Desert；　and　Operations　clearly　longed　to　be　able　to　steer　in　Marauder　strikes　to　ease　the　ferocity　of
the　bombing　campaign。
Word　was　that　not　a　single　town　or　city　along　the　Littoral　and　the　Peninsula　remained
untouched。　Quite　apart　from　the　huge　armour　and　troop　evacuation　taking　place　on　the　seacoast；　a
vast　civilian　exodus　had　also　begun。　Deprived　for　the　most　part　of　sea　transit　or　Munitorum　aid；　the
citizens　of　the　Littoral　were　fleeing　west　towards　Ingeburg　and　the　Northern　Affiliation　in　vast；
haphazard　caravans。　Reports　of　the　public　panic　and　mayhem　were　filtering　through。　Several
civilian　convoys　had　been　hit。　The　losses　were　so　distressing；　Jagdea　couldn’t　bring　herself　to　repeat
what　she’d　read　to　the　pilots　and　crews　of　Umbra。
Three　recon　Lightnings　were　to　go　up　on　a　wide　track；　with　a　trio　of　Thunderbolts　riding
shotgun。　According　to　dispersal　rotation；　this　escort　was　due　to　be　provided　by　the　Raptors。　Blaguer
himself　was　slated　to　fly；　but　he　clearly　felt　uneasy　about　what　Jagdea　might　try　to　pull　if　he　was
absent　from　the　FSB。　Blaguer　suggested　that；　if　she　was　so　keen　to　get　airborne；　the　Phantine　might
take　the　job。
Jagdea　saw　through　his　ploy；　and　knew　Umbra　would　be　better　served　if　she　stayed。　She
declined；　citing　the　damage　her　Thunderbolt　had　sustained　on　the　last　sortie。　In　truth；　it　had　already
been　fully　repaired　by　her　devoted　techs；　but　they　knew　what　to　tell　Blaguer　if　he　asked；　and
deliberately　removed　serial　Zero…Two’s　cowling　to　act　out　a　pantomime　of　repair　work。　Jagdea　sent
Asche　in　her　place；　with　Waldon　and　Zemmic。
Marquall　could　barely　hide　his　disappointment。　With　Nine…Nine　fixed　and　cleared　for　flight；　he
was　overdue　a　run；　and　should　have　been　chosen　over　either　Zemmic　or　Waldon。
After　the　six　machines　had　launched；　and　the　shimmer　nets　wound　back　into　place；　Jagdea　went
to　find　him。　Marquall　was　in　his　habitent；　playing　regicide　with　Van　Tull。
“Got　a　moment？”　she　asked。
“I’ve　got　things　to　do；　ma’am；”　Van　Tull　said；　and　made　himself　scarce。
“Get　your　flight　suit　on；”　she　said　to　Marquall。　“I’m　moving　you　up　to　snap　call　standby。”
Marquall　nodded；　but　his　expression　was　glum。　“I　should　have　gone　on　the　last　run。　You　know
that。”
“Depends　what　you　mean　by　‘should’；　Vander；”　she　said。　“You　and　Larice　aren’t　the　best　of
friends　right　now。　Keeping　you　out　of　each　other’s　way　is　probably　a　good　idea。”
Marquall　blushed；　but　it　was　largely　anger。　“She—”　he　began。　“I　don’t　know　what　I’ve　done。”
“You　haven’t　known　Larice　long；　Vander。　Not　like　me。　I　know　what　she’s　like。　One　of　the　best
pilots　it’s　been　my　honour　to　fly　with。　But　also…　headstrong；　proud。　Full　of　ambition；　and　a
compulsion　to　prove　herself　all　the　time。　It’s　her　temperament。　To　fly　the　best；　get　the　best　score…
and　be　seen　associating　with　the　hottest　of　her　male　comrades。　You　had　something　there　that　she
liked　the　look　of。　A　reputation　in　the　making。　But　then；　that　mis…launch。”
“I　was　a　laughing　stock。”
“For　about　ten　minutes。　I　haven’t　heard　it　mentioned　since。　But　Larice…　Well；　that　was　a　blow
to　her　pride。　She’d　made　a　show　of　picking　you　as　the　Next　Big　Thing；　and　there　you　were　suddenly；
the　subject　of　scorn。　Now　you　might　wince　and　shrug　it　off；　but　Lance’s　pride　gets　in　the　way。　She
felt　some　of　that　laughter　was　at　her　expense；　and　maybe　it　was。”
“So　she　just　cuts　me？　Freezes　me　out？　Drops　me　as　fast　as　she　latched　onto　me？”
“I’m　afraid　that’s　her　way；”　Jagdea　said。
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“Great；”　Marquall　said。
“Larice　is　strong…　as　a　pilot。　As　a　person；　she’s　unusually　fragile。　I　know　it’s　easy　to　say；
Vander；　but　just　move　on。　There’s　a　war　to　wage。　Another　sortie　or　two；　I’m　certain　you’ll　soon　be
getting　back　in　your　stride；　building　on　the　promise　you’ve　shown。　It　wouldn’t　surprise　me　if　she
became　interested　in　you　all　over　again。”
Marquall　snorted。
“Of　course；　once　bitten…”　Jagdea　smiled。
By　19。00　hours；　as　evening　began　to　drape　across　the　lake；　the　recon　flight　and　its　escort　went
overdue。　Last　transmission　had　been　routine；　forty　minutes　before。　No　vox　response。　Nothing　on　the
auspex　or　modar。
The　pilots　of　Umbra　gathered；　pacing　and　chatting　nervously。　The　mood　in　the　camp；　under　the
claustrophobic　spread　of　the　netting；　became　charged。
“I　want　to　take　a　flight　up。　Combat　air　patrol。　Take　a　look　for　the　missing　planes；”　Jagdea　said　to
Commander　Marcinon。
“Request　denied；”　said　Marcinon。　“For　now；　at　least。　Let’s　not　get　precious。　They’ve　got　an　hour
left　in　their　tanks。”
“Depending　on　how　they’ve　been　flying；”　said　Jagdea。　“One　serious　air　brawl；　and　you　can
halve　that。　I　repeat　my　request。”
They　were　standing　in　the　Operations　room。　Circulation　fans　whined　overhead　and；　by　the　light
of　caged　glow…globes；　Navy　tactical　officers　sat　before　flickering；　empty　displays。
“Anything？”　Marcinon　called。
“Some　activity　in　quadrants　four　and　nine…two；　commander；”　reported　the　chief　operator。
“Enemy　movements；　but　way　off。　Nothing　from　our　flight。”
“They　can’t　all　have　been　stung；”　murmured　Oberlitz；　the　chief　of　the　Lightning　wing；　the　786th；
giving　voice　to　the　private　fear　they　had　all　been　hiding。　Oberlitz　an　with
thin　lips　that　he　licked　as　a　nervous　habit。　Like　Jagdea；　he　was　now　anxious　about　his　crews。　She
had　an　ally　of　sorts　against　Marcinon　and　the　chief　of　the　Raptors。
“I　formally　repeat　my　request；”　said　Jagdea。　“Let　me　get　machines　up　now　before　the　situation
changes　and　we’re　forced　to　lie　low　with　the　nets　sealed。”
Marcinon　looked　at　Blaguer。　Blaguer　nodded。
“Request　granted；”　said　Marcinon。
Jagdea　ran　out　of　the　Operations　block。　The　pilots　had　congregated　outside。　“Blansher！
Marquall！　We’re　up！　Let’s　go！”
Their　machines　were　already　on　the　ramps。　By　the　time　the　three　pilots　had　suited　up　and
checked　their　kit；　the　fitters　had　finished　pre…flight。　Jagdea；　Blansher　and　Marquall　ran　up　to　the
matt…decks　and　the　ground　crews　locked　them　tight　in　their　cockpits。
“Check　back；”　Jagdea　voxed。
“Two；　here。　Four…A。”
“This　is　Eight。　Ready　for　go。”　Marquall　felt　his　heart　rate　climbing。　He　reached　out　and　stroked
the　edge　of　the　main　instrument　panel。　“This　time；　you　hear　me；　Nine…Nine？”　he　whispered。　This
time；　no　games。　No　jinx。　Just　Vander　Marquall　and　Double　Eagle！
The　last　cues　were　chopping　out　from　Operations　over　the　vox。　The　nets　began　to　crank　back。
Buzzer。　Five　seconds。　The　last　of　the　fitter　crew　ran　to　the　cover　of　the　blast　fences。　Marquall　sat
his　thumb　on　the　“rocket　fire”　stud。
“You　are　go；　Umbra　Flight；”　the　vox　announced。　Marquall　squeezed　the　stud　and　gravity
slammed　him　back　into　his　seat。
Over　the　forests；　19。30
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They　climbed　into　the　dusk；　their　burners　the　brightest　things　in　the　air。　The　sky　was　violet；　streaked
with　three…tenths　clouds　ten　kilometres　to　the　west。　Below；　the　forest　sprawled；　almost　black。
“Make　your　height　nine　thousand；　cruising；”　Jagdea　called。　“Track　is　four…four…two。”
“Understood；　Lead；”　said　Blansher。
“Received；”　Marquall　answered。　For　the　first　thirty　seconds　of　the　flight；　he’d　been　watching　the
board；　waiting　for　a　malfunction　light　to　flash　on。　Nothing。　Even　the　engines　sounded　sweet。
In　the　east；　against　the　darkest　part　of　the　sky；　stars　had　begun　to　rise。　Visibility　was　so　good　that
Marquall　could　make　out　distant　flashes　against　the　undercast　in　the　far　north…west；　hundreds　of
kilometres　away；　a　display　like　sheet　lightning　that　he　knew　was　pattern　bombing。
They　flew　south　for　fifteen　minutes；　then　tracked　gently　west。　After　another　slow　twenty
minutes；　Marquall　heard　Blansher’s　call。
“Contact。　Strong；　inbound；　twenty　kilometres。”
He　sent　the　signal　to　the　other　Bolts；　and　their　auspex　systems　tracked　the　lock。
“They’re　under　us；　four　thousand。　Two　groups；”　Jagdea’s　voice　said。　“Stay　at　this　height；　turn
onto　them。　Operations；　are　you　seeing　this？”
“Copy；　Umbra　Lead；　but　with　no　more　detail　than　you’ve　got。”
“Closing。　Weapons　live。　Flight；　stay　tight。”
Another　pause。　Just　the　mighty　throb　of　the　engines　and　the　hiss　of　the　air…mix。
Marquall　stared　down　into　the　darkness　of　the　forest　twilight。　The　contacts　should　have　been
coming　into　visual；　but　it　was　all　too　black。　Wisps　of　night　cloud　were　forming　at　five　thousand　like
banners　of　smoke。
“I　have　transponder　tracks；”　Blansher　called。　“Clean　signals。　It’s　Waldon；　and　at　least　one　of　the
Lightnings。”
“Umbra　Nine；　Umbra　Nine；　this　is　Umbra　Leader　high…side　and　inbound。　Do　you　copy？”
A　squeal　of　static　disrupted　the　channel；　then　they　heard　Waldon’s　voice。　Even　with　the
distortion；　there　was　a　note　of　fear　in　it。　Fear；　or　pain。
“Umbra　Leader；　Umbra　Leader；　this　is　Nine。　Say　again。”
“Coming　in　on　you；　Nine。　What　is　your　situation？”
“Assistance；　assistance！”　another　voice　cut　in；　blotting　Waldon　out。
“Identify；　user；”　Jagdea　called。
“This　is　Spyglass　Four；　Umbra。　Requesting　immediate　assistance。”
One　of　the　Lightnings。　The　pilot　sounded　petrified。
“Situation　please；”　Jagdea　called　again。
Both　the　Lightning　pilot　and　Waldon　attempted　to　answer　at　the　same　time；　and　the　result　was　a
mangle　of　signals。
Marquall　was　still　peering　down。　He　saw　a　glint；　a　faint　trace　of　thruster　flame。　Then；　against　the
blackness；　several　tiny　little　streaks　of　light；　there　and　gone。
“Lead；　this　is　Eight。　Their　situation　is　they’re　under　attack。　I　see　weapons　fire；　repeat；　I　see
weapons　fire。”
“Stoop　and　sting！”　Jagdea　called。
The　three　Thunderbolts　banked　over　and　went　into　a　power　dive。　As　they　closed；　the　jumbled；
merging　auspex　returns　resolved。　There　were　four　machines　below　them。　Waldon；　flying　close　cover
behind　a　Lightning；　and　two　unidentifieds　running　after　them。　Waldon　was　sweeping　his　machine
from　side　to　side。
They　came　in。　The　sky　lit　up　with　gunfire　traces。　Marquall　saw　the　Lightning。　It　had　been　shot
up；　and　was　trailing　long　streamers　of　hot　smoke　that　had　blurred　the　auspex　track。　Waldon　was　at
its　six。
About　seven　hundred　and　fifty　metres　behind　them；　two　Locusts　were　closing　in；　weapons
pumping。
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Waldon’s　bird　took　several　hits。　Metal　spalled　off　it　in　a　spray　that　caught　the　last　of　the
daylight。　Marquall　couldn’t　believe　what　he　was　seeing。　Waldon　was　actually　trying　to　use　his
better…armoured　machine　to　shield　the　struggling　recon　plane。　He　had　never　seen　anything　so
selfless　and—
Espere。　Espere　had　done　the　same　for　Marquall。
“Waldon？”　Jagdea　yelled。
“Ammo　gone；　Lead。　Losing　hydraulic　pressure。”
Ammo　gone。　They　must’ve　been　in　a　hell　of　a　fight。
Blansher　and　Jagdea　had　the　lead；　and　screamed　down　into　the　path　of　the　bats；　which　both
broke　immediately。　Blansher　viffed　out　on　a　good　guess　and　began　to　climb　after　one　of　the　soaring
Locusts。
Unusually；　Jagdea　misjudged；　and　the　other　bat　went　under　her。　It　was　tight；　but　Marquall
managed　to　pull　a　break…turn　and　spill　into　its　roll。　He　fired。　The　forks　of　las…shot　were　incredibly
bright　in　the　low　light。
The　Locust　evaded　and　turned　high。　Marquall　followed　it。　He　was　concentrating　hard；　but　not　so
hard　he　missed　the　call　from　Jagdea。
“More　contacts；　closing；　ultra…fast。”
Marquall　tried　to　look　everywhere　at　once。　Where　were　the　new　ones？　What　angle？
The　Locust　tried　to　throw　him　with　a　chandelle；　but　Marquall　nursed　over　on　vector　thrust。　He
stood　Nine…Nine　on　its　end；　let　the　tail　slip　out；　and　turned　a　tumble　into　a　swing…over。
The　Locust　was　going　for　Waldon　and　the　Lightning　again。
A　bright　flash　lit　the　sky　and；　for　a　second；　his　instrumentation　sobbed　with　electromagnetic
interference。
“Bat　down；”　Blansher　called。　He’d　blown　the　other　one　out　of　the　sky。
“Eight？”　Jagdea　called。
“I’m　on　it！”　Marquall　executed　a　barrel…roll　and　swept　down　after　the　Locust；　which；　against　the
dark　shroud　of　the　forest；　he　could　see　only　on　the　auspex　and　by　the　light　of　its　engines。　He　pulled
in；　chasing　hard；　saw　its　engine　flare　slide　through　his　gunsight；　corrected；　and　got　a　lock　tone。
He　fired。　He　hit　something；　because　there　was　suddenly　shrapn