Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第19部分

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He　fired。　He　hit　something；　because　there　was　suddenly　shrapnel　in　the　air。　Where　was　it？
“It’s　going　high！　It’s　going　high！”　he　heard　Waldon　yell。
Marquall　looked　up；　and　saw　the　Locust　powering　up　into　the　violet　sky　on　a　vertical　track；
suddenly　visible　as　a　sharp　silhouette　against　the　pale　light。
It　was　trailing　smoke。　He’d　hit　it；　at　least；　and　driven　it　off。
The　vox　crackled。　“Umbra　Lead；　Umbra　Lead；　is　that　you？”
“Copy　that。　Larice？”
“Affirmative。　We　are　inbound　to　your　position；　converging。　Be　advised：　bats；　bats；　bats。”
Marquall　heard　Jagdea　curse。　He　pulled　up　and　round；　and　saw　the　sky　above　and　to　their　south
full　of　specks　and　sparkles　of　light。
Larice　and　Zemmic；　running　for　home；　with　ten…plus　machines　on　their　heels。
“Eight　and　Two；　with　me！”　Jagdea　called。　“Four；　we　are　crossing　to　intercept。　Can　you
commit？”
“Negative；　Lead。　Zemmic　and　I　are　nil　ammo；　repeat　nil　ammo。”
“Understood。　Burn　for　home。　We’ll　deal。”
Marquall　saw　two　hot　lights　flare　up　to　his　port　side　as　Blansher　and　Jagdea　hit　the　burners　and
blasted　towards　the　incoming　formation。　He　opened　his　own　throttle　and　soared　in　after　them。
Zemmic　and　Asche；　cooking　at　full；　streaked　past　under　him；　rocking　Nine…Nine　with　their　jet　wash。
The　three　Thunderbolts　scorched　into　the　leading　edge　of　the　Locust　pack。　The　air　went　wild
with　dazzling　streamers　of　crossfire。　As　the　bats　fired；　it　seemed　like　a　whole　constellation　of
flashing　stars　had　come　out。
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Marquall　felt　the　shudder　of　near…misses；　and　then　a　flat　slap　as　something　kissed　across　his　port
wing。　He　squeezed　the　gun…stud；　then　rolled　hard；　getting　into　grip　position　instinctively　as　he　pulled
four　and　a　half　negative。
There　was　a　vast　fire…splash　to　starboard；　and　Marquall　was　dazed　long　enough　for　him　to　almost
collide　with　a　Locust　coming　fast　the　other　way。　From　the　whoop　on　the　vox；　Blansher　had
evidently　scored　again。
The　bats　had　broken　high。　Marquall　gunned　Nine…Nine　and　began　a　climbing　turn。　His　auspex
display　was　just　a　mass　of　confused　green　blobs。　He　couldn’t　make　anything　out。
Something　went　by　him；　turning　higher　and　wider　than　him。　He　reckoned　it　was　Jagdea。　A
Locust　streaked　down　past　him；　guns　clattering。
He　rolled　around　and　spotted　Blansher　powering　low　over　the　forest；　chasing　two　bats　with
another　pair　mobbing　at　his　heels。　Marquall　put　his　nose　down　and　streaked　after　the　pursuers。
“Eight！　Break；　break；　break！”　That　was　Jagdea。
Marquall　had　already　heard　the　whining　of　the　lock　alarm。　He　punched　over　left；　then　rolled
back　right；　and　fluttered　his　speed　brakes。　The　tone　ceased。　Something　went　over　him；　turning。
More　throttle　again；　climbing　now。　The　bats　Blansher　had　been　chasing　had　split；　and　he　was
alone　with　Locusts　firing　at　his　tail；　stuck　tight。
“Break；　Two！”　Marquall　yelled。　“Break！”
“They’re　too　tight！　Riding　me！”
Nose　up；　Blansher’s　machine　shuddered　and　yawed　as　las…shots　chewed　into　its　tail　fin。
In　desperation；　Blansher　executed　a　vector　brake；　but　up　rather　than　down；　so　that　the　two　bats
whipped　under　him。　By　then；　Marquall　was　tight　on　them；　and　he　went　under　Blansher　too。　Blansher
had　braked　too　hard；　and　was　now　trying　to　recover　airspeed　before　he　stalled。
One　bat　disappeared；　pulling　out　so　suddenly；　Marquall　couldn’t　tell　if　it　had　gone　high　or　low。
He　came　in　on　the　other；　emptying　his　batteries；　and　then　toggling　to　quad…cannon　for　a　second
lengthy　burst。
The　Locust　suddenly　spluttered　out　a　gout　of　flame；　which　flared　rapidly　into　a　wide；　spiralling
fireball　and　ignited　propellant。　The　bat’s　doom　was　so　savage　that　Marquall　had　to　break　off　to
avoid　the　blast。
He　had　made　his　second　kill。
Jagdea　banked　over；　lined　up　and　ripped　a　Locust　out　of　the　air　as　it　attempted　to　swing　under
her。　It　went　over；　shaking　like　an　autumn　leaf；　and　caught　fire。
Another　two　streaked　past　her；　but　Blansher　was　on　them；　firing　like　a　maniac。　One　blew　out；
becoming　a　cloud　of　sparks　that　sailed　on；　slowed；　and　then　began　to　fall。　The　other　broke　south。
Something　lined　up　on　Jagdea’s　bird　so　fast　that　the　lock　tone　surprised　her。　She　took　three　hits
that　kicked　the　tail　of　her　Thunderbolt　high　and　caused　a　mass　of　alarm　runes　to　light　her　display。
She　fought　the　stick；　stiff　with　diving　speed；　and　kicked　the　rudder　out　to　port；　piling　on　the　G。
She　grunted　with　effort；　bringing　the　nose　round。
And　there　was　a　banking　Locust；　moving　a　touch　too　lazily；　like　a　gift　from　the　God…Emperor
himself。
She　was　set　on　quad　already。　She　fired；　a　sustained　burst；　enjoying　the　way　the　shudder　impaired
Zero…Two’s　stable　flight。
Mortally　wounded；　the　Locust　dipped　its　nose　and　began　to　dive。　A　long；　steady　curve　of　firetrail
marked　its　passage　from　air　to　ground。　There　was　a　vivid　flash　amongst　the　trees　below。
“They’re　breaking！”　Blansher　voxed。
She　banked　wide；　checking　her　auspex。　“Confirm　that；　Two。”
The　remaining　bats　were　fleeing　south　in　a　loose　line。
“Pursuit？”　asked　Marquall。
The　boy’s　blood　was　evidently　up。
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“Negative；　Eight。　Turn　for　home。”
They　cruised　back　through　what　was　now　night；　each　pilot　isolated　in　the　darkness。　Nine
kilometres　from　Gocel　FSB；　a　large　area　of　forest　was　ablaze。
In　the　darkness；　the　nets　were　back　and　the　lumin　barrettes　were　lit。　Umbra　One；　Two　and　Eight
followed　the　shine　down　and　settled　perfectly　on　their　mats。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　21。02
Racklae　hauled　Marquall　out　of　his　machine。　The　fitters　were　running　in　for　after　flight。　Vapour
fumed　the　pad。　Already；　the　shimmer　netting　was　closing；　the　barrettes　had　been　killed；　and　stealth
lighting　resumed　over　the　base。
Marquall　pulled　off　his　helmet。　The　night　air　smelled　good。　Insects　were　screaming　in　the
thickets　and　under　the　dark　trees。
“Okay；　pilot？”　Racklae　asked。
“About　time　I　started　a　tally；”　Marquall　said。　Racklae　grinned。　It　wasn’t　done　for　a　pilot　to　stripe
up　a　single　kill。　But　once　it　was　more　than　one…
“How　many　should　I　put；　sir？”　Racklae　asked。
“Keep　it　modest。　I　got　another　one；　Racks。”
“Number　two！”　Racklae　yelled；　and　the　ground　crew　began　jumping　around　and　cheering。
Several　ran　up　to　shake　Marquall　by　the　hand。
“There　was　a　fire　in　the　forest；”　Marquall　said；　trying　to　make　himself　heard　over　the　jubilation。
“I　wouldn’t　know　about　that；　sir；”　Racklae　said。　“You’d　better　go　to　dispersal。”
Marquall　nodded；　and　patted　Nine…Nine’s　flank。
“Look　after　her；　Racks；”　he　said。
“Will　do；　sir；”　said　the　chief。
The　fitter　crew　gave　him　a　series　of　hearty　cheers　as　he　left　the　matt…deck。　Weighed　down　by　his
flight　armour；　Marquall　limped　down　the　path　through　the　trees　towards　Operations。
There　was　a　commotion　there。　Still　wearing　their　flight　gear；　Larice　Asche　and　Zemmic　were　in
the　process　of　recounting　some　furious　dogfight　to　Del　Ruth；　Cordiale；　Ranfre　and　Van　Tull。　Base
crew；　and　some　Raptor　pilots　gathered　around；　listening。
Marquall　saw　Blansher　standing　in　the　shadows　of　the　awning　outside　Operations；　talking　to
someone。
He　went　across。　The　cries　and　laughter　from　the　gaggle　of　pilots　was　loud　and　vigorous。
It　was　Kautas　standing　with　Blansher。　Both　men　were　smoking　lho…sticks。　Marquall　saw　how
pale　and　drawn　Blansher　was。　The　older　man　smiled　as　he　saw　Marquall。
“Over　here；　Vander；”　he　called。
Blansher　shook　Marquall’s　hand。　“Thanks；”　he　said。
“For　what？”
“I　think　that　double　stern　attack　might　have　stung　me　if　you　hadn’t　been　chasing　them　down。”
“Rubbish。　You　got　yourself　out　of　that　one。”
Blansher　shrugged。　“Well　done；　by　the　way。　Two；　was　it？”
“I　wish；”　said　Marquall。　“One；　clean　and　definite。　I　hit　another；　but　he　stayed　up。”
Kautas　reached　into　his　robe　pocket　with　his　left　hand；　pulled　out　a　silver　stick　case；　and　opened
it；　offering　the　contents　to　Marquall。
“No　thanks；　father；”　said　Marquall。
“Such　a　clean…living　boy；”　Kautas　said　to　Blansher　as　he　put　the　lho…stick　case　away。　In　his　other
hand；　the　priest　held　a　bottle　of　amasec。　“How　about　this；　then？”
Marquall　took　the　bottle　and　knocked　off　a　finger　that　burned　in　his　mouth；　then　his　throat；　then
his　belly。　He　handed　the　bottle　to　Blansher。
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“To　your　three　kills；　sir。　What　is　it　now？”
Blansher　took　a　swig。　“I　forget；　Vander。”　He　passed　the　bottle　back　to　the　priest。
“Do　we　know　what　happened　yet？”　Marquall　asked。
“Not　entirely。　What　I’ve　been　told　is　the　flight　got　into　serious　trouble　on　the　edge　of　the　desert。
The　Lightnings　had　picked　up　something　important；　and　then　there　were　hostiles　all　over　them　like　a
swarm。　Forty…plus　machines。　From　what　Asche　has　said；　it　must　have　been　a　monster　of　a　fight。　One
of　the　Lightnings　was　stung　almost　immediately。　Then　another　of　them　got　a　kill；　and　was　promptly
killed　itself。　Meanwhile　our　three　went　into　the　brawl。　Waldon　splashed　two　and　then；　ammo　zilch；
he　pulled　out　and　started　to　nursemaid　the　remaining　Lightning；　which　had　been　shot　to　crap　and
was　running　home。　Asche　and　Zemmic　stayed　on　station；　and　kept　going　until　they　were　out；　trying
to　buy　Waldon　and　the　Lightning　some　time　to　get　clear。　We’re　waiting　for　gun…pict　confirmation；
but　allegedly　Zemmic　bagged　four；　and　our　dear　Larice　got　nine。”
“Nine？”
“That’s　what　she　says；”　Blansher　nodded。
Blansher　had　made　three；　Jagdea　two。　Amazing　scores　for　one　sortie。　Zemmic　himself　put　them
to　shame。　But　nine。　Nine。　That　made　Marquall’s　triumphant　one　seem　so　paltry。
“Nine？”　Marquall　said　again。
“Seems　so；”　said　Blansher。
“She’s　a　foxy　one；”　said　Kautas。
“That　must　be　a　record；”　Marquall　murmured。
“I’ve　not　heard　anything　to　match　it；”　agreed　Blansher。
The　bottle　came　back　to　Marquall。　He　wiped　the　snout　and　took　another　sip。
Nearby；　the　crews　were　clapping　and　cheering　Asche　as　she　reached　the　climax　of　her　turn…byturn
account。　Knocking　back　a　drink；　she　leaned　over　and　mashed　her　lips　into　Zemmic’s。　There　was
laughter　and　whoops。
Zemmic。　A　clean　four。　The　new　hot　stuff。　The　new　one　with　the　shine。
Marquall　turned　away。　“Who　belonged　to　the　fire　I　saw？”　he　asked。
Blansher　looked　down。　“Waldon；”　he　said。
Waldon　had　guarded　the　wounded　Lightning　back　home；　every　step　of　the　way。　Just　short　of　the
FSB；　his　damaged　Bolt　had　given　up　and　dropped　nose…down　into　the　rainforest。　No　chute；
according　to　their　Lightning　pilot；　who　had　landed　safely。　No　chute。
Someone　came　out　under　the　awning　behind　Marquall；　and　Blansher　stiffened。　Marquall　turned。
It　was　Jagdea。　Oil　still　smeared　her　face。　She　looked　grim。　“Come　in；”　she　said。
The　three　of　them　crossed　to　her。
“What　about　the　others？”　Blansher　asked。
“Leave　them；”　Jagdea　said。　“They’re　having　fun。　I　don’t　want　to　spoil　it。”
They　walked　into　Operations。　Blansher　and　the　priest　stubbed　out　their　sticks　before　entering。
Blaguer　was　there；　leaning　over　a　display　intently　with　Oberlitz。　The　operators　sat　at　their
stations。
Commander　Marcinon　sat　at　a　desk；　reviewing　pict　slides　on　a　back…lit　writing　slope。
“Kills　confirmed；”　Jagdea　said。　“Two　for　me；　three　for　Mil。　One　for　you；　Vander。　Good　work。”
“Thank　you；　mamzel。”
“Zemmic　got　his　four。　Turns　out；　from　the　picts；　Asche　got　ten。”　Kautas　whistled。
“Unheard　of；”　said　Jagdea。　“Though　by　the　look　of　the　footage；　the　sky　was　so　full　of　bats　it
would　have　been　hard　not　to　hit　something。”
“Why　so　grim？”　Blansher　asked　her。
“We’ve　studied　the　recon　data　the　Lightning　was　so　desperate　to　bring　home。”
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Jagdea　went　over　to　the　light　table　and　cycled　up　some　images　into　the　projector。　Hololithic
shapes　formed　in　the　air。
“What’s　that？”　said　Kautas。　“I　can’t—”
“That’s　armour；　father；”　said　Jagdea。　“Seen　from　above　at　high　altitude。　Stalk　tanks　mostly；　but
also　lines　of　main　battle　tanks；　troop　transporters　and　some　super…heavies。”
“It　just　looks　like　specks；”　Kautas　said。
Marquall　stiffened。　He　was　more　used　to　reading　aerial　picts　than　the　priest。
“Holy　Throne…”　he　sighed。
“Summary　count　is　nine　thousand　units；”　Jagdea　said。　“Coming　in　out　of　the　deserts。　These
enlargements　here　modify　for　dust　cover。　See　this？　Identified　as　the　sigil　markings　of　the　Blood
Pact。”
“They’re　coming　north；”　whispered　Blansher。
“Undoubtedly；”　said　Marcinon；　coming　over　to　join　them。　“The　Archenemy　clearly　believes　its
air　war　has　been　successful　in　hammering　the　Littoral。　The　ground　forces　of　Chaos　are　now
invading。　I　have　sent　word　to　the　coast。　The　evacuation　is　being　stepped　up。　I…　I　somehow　doubt
we　will　be　ready　in　time。”
“What　about　us？”　asked　Marquall。
“Us；　boy？”　Marcinon　asked。
“Sir；　we’re　in　the　direct　path　of　this。　The　enemy　land　forces　must　already　be　in　the　forests。”
“Yes。　Auspex　returns　paint　them　sixty　kilometres　south　and　moving　fast。　Operations　has　ordered
our　immediate　withdrawal。　Us；　and　all　the　other　FSBs　in　the　forest　region。　Transports　will　arrive
tomorrow　at　08。00　hours。”
Jagdea　looked　at　Marquall　and　saw　his　sadness。　“Time　to　retreat；”　she　said。　“It　happens。”
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DAY　264
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　06。30
The　extraction　transports　were　an　hour　and　a　half　away。　Marquall　watched　the　dawn　come　up。　All
through　that　long；　humid　night；　the　personnel　of　the　base　had　moved　with　a　single　purpose；　crating
up　equipment　and　spares；　bagging　possessions；　collapsing　habitents　and　getting　them　stowed；
deactivating　secondary　detection　systems。　The　prefabs　would　have　to　be　left；　and　the　mats　and　the
ramps　probably。　Certainly　the　ring　defences。　The　pilots　would　fly　the　planes　out；　the　transports
would　extract　the　rest。
Marquall　had　spent　the　small　hours　of　the　night　lugging　packages　around　and　making　sure　his
fitters　were　clearing　out　swiftly。　Racklae　insisted　they　run　a　full　pre…flight　on　Nine…Nine　before　they
went；　and　told　Marquall　plainly　that　two　fitters　would　stay　on　station　to　see　him　aloft。
The　pathways　were　full　of　hurrying　bodies　under　the　lamps；　and　the　huffing　shapes　of　laden
Sentinels。
Everyone　was　active　and　alert。　No；　not　everyone。　Several　of　Umbra　Flight　had　drunk　too　much
enjoying　Larice　Asche’s　celebration；　and　had　to　be　whipped　into　shape　by　Jagdea　and　Blansher。
Asche　herself；　and　Zemmic；　had　disappeared。　Their　tent…mates；　Del　Ruth　and　Cordiale；　picked
up　their　gear。　Marquall　volunteered　to　gather　up　Waldon’s　belongings；　but　Jagdea　said　she’d　do　that
herself。
The　sun　was　just　rising。　There　was　rain　in　the　air；　beating　on　the　leaf　canopy　and　the　shimmer
nets。　It　was　cold。
Weary；　strung　out；　Marquall　sat　down　by　a　tree　bowl；　and　wiped　the　rain　off　his　face。　He　had　to
go　to　dispersal　to　suit　up；　and　then　to　his　bird　in　time　for　the　pull　out。
Shades　hurried　past　him　along　the　pathway。　Fitters　carrying　crates。　A　power　lifter。
He　jumped　as　he　heard　a　strange；　crackling　noise。　It　went　on　for　some　seconds；　so　odd　and　loud；
that　he　failed　to　realise　at　first　that　his　alarm　bracelet　was　sounding。
Panic　hit　the　base。
Marquall　realised　that　the　crackling　noise　was　the　sound　of　the　automated　Tarantula　guns　along
the　perimeter　firing　out　into　the　forest。
They’d　been　tripped。
“Oh　hell！”　he　yelped　and　leapt　up。　His　kit　was　nearby；　and　he　reached　into　the　haversack；
yanking　out　his　service　pistol　and　a　belt　of　battery　clips。
There　was　a　bright　flash　in　the　trees　ahead　of　him　as　something　ell
fyceline　and　burning　oil。　Gunfire　chattered。
The　enemy　had　arrived；　far　earlier　than　expected。
Lasfire　zipped　through　the　air；　ripping　apart　shimmer　nets　and　sections　of　the　arboreal　canopy。
The　chunter　of　the　Tarantulas　increased。
“Throne　alive！”　Marquall　said。　Klaxons　were　now　wailing。　Pistol　raised；　he　ran　across　to　one　of
the　maintenance　shelters　and　ducked　inside。
Heavy　gauge　lasfire　crisped　the　air　outside。　The　flak…board　shivered。
Marquall　ran　across　the　floor　space　of　the　shelter　and　fell　over　something。
“What　the　bloody　hell…？”　a　voice　murmured。
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Marquall　looked　down。　Asche　and　Zemmic；　both　naked；　were　curled　up　together；　half…covered
by　a　section　of　blast　curtain。
“Marquall？”　Larice　narrowed　her　eyes；　bleary　and　annoyed。　“There　better　be　a　bloody　good
reason　why—”
A　shelter　nearby　exploded　loudly；　raining　debris　out。
“Shit！”　Larice　Asche　said；　leaping　up　and　pulling　on　her　flight　pants。　She　kicked　Zemmic。
“Get　up！　Wake　up！”　she　cried　at　him。
Zemmic　sat　up；　blinking。
Asche　had　got　her　vest　on　now。　She　turned　to　Marquall。　“What’s　the　situation？”　she　said。
“They’ve　found　us；”　Marquall　replied。　He　was　hunkered　in　the　opposite　doorway；　looking　out；
gun　ready。　“I　think　they—”
He　shut　up　quickly。　Three　figures；　armoured　in　red；　were　running　up　towards　the　side　of　the
shelter。　Without　thinking；　Marquall　leaned　out　and　shot　the　first　one　through　the　head。
He　dropped　hard。
Shaking；　Marquall　realised　the　warrior　had　been　wearing　a　snarling　mask　of　black　metal。　Blood
Pact。　Blood　Pact。
Shots　ripped　his　way；　punching　holes　in　the　side　of　the　shelter。　Her　boots　still　undone；　Asche
joined　him　by　the　doorway；　and　started　shooting　her　own　service　pistol　into　the　trees。
“Where’s　Zemmic？”　Marquall　asked。
“Running？　Who　cares？”　Asche　replied。　She　fired　again。
Bright　yellow；　a　stalk　tank　ripped　into　the　outer　clearing　of　the　concealed　base。　Its　underslung
turrets　recoiled　as　they　spat　out　bursts　of　heavy　las。
A　section　of　the　maintenance　block　exploded；　sending　shingles　and　pieces　of　spar　into　the　sky。　A
kinderwood　nee　creaked　and　fell　over。　Stripped…away　shimmer　netting　revealed　pale　slices　of　dawn
sky。　The　clattering　stalk　tank　felled　more　trees；　and　their　collapse　severed　a　series　of　power　cables
that　showered　white　crumbs　of　light　out　in　a　savage　flurry。
The　Blood　Pact　warriors　rushed　them。　Marquall　and　Asche；　decently　covered；　opened　fire　into
the　charging　figures　and　killed　both　of　them。　It　took　a　surprising　number　of　shots　to　stop　the　enemy
shock　troopers。　The　necessary　blasts　exhausted　their　clips。
Asche　threw　up　noisily。
“Not　so　easy　when　it’s　face…to…face；　eh？”　Marquall　asked；　dragging　the　retching　girl　upright。
“It’s　the　drink；　you　idiot；”　she　coughed；　spitting。
Lasfire　tore　past　them。　The　stalk　tank　reached　one　of　the　matt…decks。
A　Commonwealth　trooper　with　a　tube　launcher　killed　it　dead。　The　blast　tore　out　a　section　of　the
canopy　and　lifted　smoke　into　the　air　clear　of　the　forest。
Calm　returned　for　a　while。　The　attack　had　been　from　an　advance　force。　Marquall　prayed　no　more
would　arrive　until　the　final　minutes　of　the　evacuation　had　counted　off。　Just　before　eight；　they　heard
the　sound　of　Navy　mass…lifters　powering　in　across　the　lake。　The　huge　transporters　settled　on　the
shoreline　mud　and　opened　their　gaping　maws　to　accept　the　lines　of　aircrew　personnel；　fitter　teams
and　Sentinels。　Pack　after　pack　of　machinery　and　material　was　carried　on　board。
About　then；　drawn　in　by　the　land　attack；　the　enemy　air　cover　reached　Gocel。　The　base’s　planes
were　just　beginning　to　lift　off。
Razors　swept　overhead；　dropping　submunitions。　One　of　the　transporters　at　the　lakeshore　went　up
in　a　haze　of　flames。　Blansher　launched　clear。　So　did　Van　Tull　and　Del　Ruth；　then　Cordiale。　Ortho
Blaguer’s　rising　Thunderbolt　collided　with　a　Razor　on　a　strafing　run。　The　blast　lit　the　sky。　Two　of
the　fleeing　Lightnings；　one　of　them　Oberlitz’s；　were　stung　hard　as　they　attempted　to　climb。　Oberlitz
went　down　in　the　lake；　the　other　into　the　trees　on　the　far　shore。
Asche　pulled　away。　Then　two　of　the　Raptors。　A　Lightning。　Another　Raptor　launched；　and　was
blown　apart。　Zemm