Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第22部分

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stung　twice；　on　both　occasions；　by　fighters　he　hadn’t　seen。
Racklae　knocked　on　the　window　and　Marquall　opened　his　eyes。　The　fitter　mimed　opening　the　lid
and　Marquall　nodded；　pulling　off　his　breather　and　goggles。
The　canopy　lifted　and　cool；　fumy　air　blew　in　across　Marquall’s　face。　It　let　in　the　roar　and　whine
of　the　field　too。
“Everything　all　right；　sir？”　Racklae　asked。
“Four…A；”　Marquall　replied　as　he　was　helped　clear；　and　had　his　suit　leads　unplugged。　“I　need　her
turned　around　quick。　We　could　go　up　again　before　evening。”
“Understood；　sir。”
“I　think　the　port　lascannon　needs　cleaning　or　refitting。　I　was　getting　an　odd　fire…pattern。”
“I’ll　see　to　it　sir。”
“Any　chance　of　rockets？”
Racklae　shook　his　head。　“Between　you　and　me；　sir；　munitions　are　getting　pretty　low。　We’re　okay
for　hard　rounds；　but　all　the　rack　weapons　are　going　to　the　Marauders。”
Marquall　left　the　fitters　to　their　work　and　walked　out　of　the　revetment　shelter。　At　the　mouth　of
the　hardstand　next　door；　Van　Tull　was　stripping　off　his　jacket　and　gloves。
“Nice　one；”　Marquall　said。　“I　saw　you　sting　that　Tormentor。”
“Thanks；”　said　Van　Tull。　“I　thought　the　bastard　was　going　to　get　past　me　for　a　moment。　Any
luck　yourself？”
Marquall　shook　his　head。
“I　thought　I　saw　you　on　a　Razor。”
“Yeah；　but　it　slipped　out　and　I　lost　it。”
“There’s　always　the　next　time；”　said　Van　Tull。
Zemmic　wandered　up　to　join　them。　His　lucky　charms　jingled　about　him　on　a　new　chain。　“What’s
that　about？”　he　asked；　gesturing　down　the　line　of　hardstands。
A　large　staff　limousine　was　approaching；　pulling　to　a　halt。　The　driver；　a　Navy　cadet；　got　out；
went　around　to　the　other　side；　and　opened　the　rear　door；　saluting。　A　figure　got　out。
“That’s　the　Apostles’　chief；　isn’t　it？”　asked　Van　Tull。
“Seekan；”　said　Marquall。
“What　the　hell　does　he　want？”　said　Zemmic。
They　watched　as　Seekan　crossed　to　number　three　stand。　Asche　was　just　dismounting　from　her
Bolt。　She　saluted　Seekan；　and　was　saluted　back。　Seekan　began　to　speak　and　handed　her　something。
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A　data…slate；　it　looked　like。　Even　from　a　distance；　they　could　see　the　strange；　startled　look　on
Asche’s　face。
“What’s　going　on？”　Zemmic　said。
Seekan　and　Asche　exchanged　salutes　again；　then　Seekan　shook　her　by　the　hand　and　returned　to
his　car。　As　it　carried　him　away　off　the　field　enclosure；　Asche　remained　where　she　was；　studying　the
slate。
Marquall；　Zemmic　and　Van　Tull　jogged　down　to　her。　Blansher　had　appeared；　and　Ranfre；
Cordiale　and　Del　Ruth　were　also　approaching。
“Larice？”　Zemmic　said。
She　glanced　up。　There　was　such　a　strange　look　in　her　eyes。　“Hey；　Zem。”
“What’s　going　on？　What　did　Seekan　want？”
“Me；”　she　said。
“What？”
She　looked　at　them　all　for　a　moment。　“You’re　not　going　to　believe　this…”　she　began。
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DAY　266
Theda　seafront；　06。02
Viltry’s　first　glimpse　of　Theda　City　was　from　the　cab　of　a　Munitorum　fleet　transport　in　the　small
hours　of　the　night。　It　was　the　first　time　he’d　set　eyes　on　it　since　the　morning　of　the　259th　when　he’d
taken　G　for　Greta　aloft　on　her　final　flight。　Things　had　changed。
In　the　dark；　from　many　kilometres　distant；　the　city　itself　was　invisible　because　of　black…out
regulations；　but　the　shape　of　it　was　defined　against　the　sky　by　the　ruddy　glow　of　firestorms
throbbing　in　its　heart。
“Holy　Throne…”　he’d　breathed。
“Told　you　it　was　bad；”　the　driver　had　said。
Viltry　had　made　the　journey　along　the　coast　overnight；　begging　lifts　from　a　series　of　transport
drivers。　There　was　activity　all　along　the　seaboard；　part　of　the　frenzy　of　evacuation。　Munitorum
transit　fleets　were　pouring　out　of　Theda　and　the　surrounding　towns；　laden　with　materiel　and
personnel　for　the　evacuation　ports；　and　then　streaming　back　to　depot　empty　for　another　run。　The　vast
night　sky　was　a　maelstrom　of　tracer；　flak　bursts　and　burner　trails。　At　Madenta；　trying　to　find　a　ride　to
hitch　amongst　the　chaos　of　traffic　in　the　town　centre；　Viltry　had　been　about　three　hundred　metres
from　a　bomb　strike　that　had　destroyed　a　templum；　nine　habs　and　a　machine　shop。　Everywhere　he
went；　he　could　hear　the　drone　of　the　Archenemy’s　engines　in　the　sky。
The　cargo…10　drove　into　Theda’s　outskirts　at　first　light；　stopping　at　several　Munitorum　or
Commissariat　checkpoints。　The　streets　were　deserted；　apart　from　other　military　traffic。　The　slowly
rising　light；　pale　and　thin；　revealed　a　dusty；　smoky　world。　They　passed　row　after　row　of　bombedplaces；
fire　control　teams　fought　with　blazing　tenements　and　hab　stacks　gripped　by　swirling
infernos。　Some　streets　were　closed。　Medicae　shuttles；　bells　clattering；　rushed　by。
Just　after　five　thirty；　they　reached　the　Old　Town　area。　Like　everywhere　else；　it　had　taken　a
pasting。　Viltry　had　a　clawing；　sick　feeling　in　his　chest。
“I’m　due　at　the　assembly　yards　in　Danzerplatz；”　the　driver　said。　“Any　good　to　you？”
“No。　Uh；　just　let　me　out　here。”
The　driver　pulled　the　truck　up　at　a　street　corner。
“Thanks；”　Viltry　said；　climbing　down。
“No　problem。　Good　luck　rejoining　your　unit。　Shoot　some　of　them　bastards　down　for　me。”
“I’ll　try。”
The　driver　nodded；　and　then　pulled　the　truck　away。
Viltry　began　to　walk。　His　tattered　flight　jacket　still　had　the　emergency　compass　sewn　into　the
cuff；　so　he　followed　the　needle　and　went　north。　It　took　him　about　thirty　minutes　to　skirt　up　through
the　ruins　of　the　Old　Town　to　the　seafront。
The　air　was　cooler　here；　fresher；　despite　the　cloying　smoke　that　wrapped　the　whole　city。　He
heard　the　strange　yet　familiar　sound　of　rushing　breakers；　the　clatter　of　pebbles。　He　smelled　the　sea。
How　ironic　that　a　smell；　so　recently　new；　so　alien　to　his　background；　should　now　be　so　evocative。
He　wandered　down　the　broad　seafront　road　for　a　while；　trying　to　get　his　bearings。　He　was　sure
he　should　be　able　to　see　the　piers。　Finally；　almost　by　accident；　he　realised　he　was　standing　by　the
familiar　entrance　arch。　There　was　the　chalkboard；　propped　up　against　the　ironwork　gate。　“Palace
Refreshments。　Table　service；　sea　views。”
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Beyond　the　arch；　there　was　nothing；　except　a　tangled　mess　of　black　iron　and　charred　wood
sprawled　out　into　the　surging　tide。　The　piers　were　gone；　destroyed；　all　three　of　them。
I　think　it’d　take　a　lot　to　bring　the　palace　doayer　had　said。
Oskar　Viltry　felt　his　legs　go　numb　and　weak。　He　leaned　against　the　cast　iron　railing　and　closed
his　weary　eyes。
Theda　Old　Town；　06。30
There’d　been　a　plan。　A　trip　down　to　the　Hydra　on　Voldney；　all　of　Umbra；　and　the　fitters　too；　to　toast
Asche　on　her　way。　Blansher　had　sent　a　message；　ordering　cases　of　joiliq　and　the　private　hire　of　the
main　bar。
But　then　the　snap　call　had　come　in　at　20。00；　and　they’d　gone　aloft　into　the　night；　into　the
mayhem　of　darkness　and　fire。　By　the　time　they’d　returned；　debriefed；　showered　and　been　stood
down；　Larice　Asche　had　already　packed　her　bags　and　departed　to　meet　her　report　time。　She’d　left　a
note。
Good　flying；　Umbra。　See　you　up　there；　somewhere。　Larice。
There　was　an　empty　feeling　in　the　billet。　A　dark　mood；　somehow　worse　than　if　they’d　lost　a
comrade　in　action。　“We’re　going　anyway；”　Blansher　said。
They’d　reached　the　Hydra　at　four　in　the　morning；　just　as　the　staff　were　hoping　to　close；　and　tried
their　level　best　to　rouse　a　party　mood。　But　it　was　like　a　wake。　Blansher　said　a　few　words　about
Asche；　and　they　were　good　words　too；　but　they’d　have　sounded　better　coming　from　Jagdea。　The
crew　of　Umbra　sat　around；　morose。　The　fitters；　always　up　for　a　free　drink；　got　drunk　and　loud；　but
kept　themselves　to　themselves。　Van　Tull　and　Cordiale　left　after　an　hour。　Zemmic；　who　had　been
discarded　by　Larice　Asche　as　quickly　as　Marquall；　got　brutally　intoxicated　and　then　violently　ill。
Ranfre　took　pity　on　him；　found　a　driver　with　a　truck；　and　took　him　back　to　the　base。
Which　left　Marquall；　Del　Ruth　and　Blansher。
“Not　exactly　what　I’d　planned；”　Blansher　said。　The　three　of　them　sat　around　a　table；　toying　with
shot　glasses。　On　the　other　side　of　the　bar；　Racklae　and　the　fitters　were　playing　drinking　games；
roaring　out　with　laughter　and　good　humour。　The　red…eyed　bar　staff　sat　behind　the　counter；　longing
for　them　all　to　go　home。
“We　could　join　them；”　Del　Ruth　suggested；　tipping　her　head　in　the　direction　of　the　fitters。
“And　spoil　their　fun？”　Blansher　said。　“Pilots　need　fitters　and　fitters　need　pilots；　and　there　is　a
bond　close　to　love　between　them。　But　socially？　No。　Different　worlds。　Different　classes。　We　go　over
there；　try　to　join　in；　we’ll　be　as　welcome　as　a　turd　in　a　foot　bath。”
Agguila　Del　Ruth　had　been　halfway　through　a　sip；　and　snorted　with　laughter；　choking　so　hard
Marquall　had　to　slap　her　on　the　back。
It　was　the　best　laugh　they’d　had　all　night。
“Throne　save　me；”　Blansher　sighed。　“This　is　so　not　what　I’d　planned。”
“Story　of　my　life；”　muttered　Marquall；　pouring　out　another　measure　of　joiliq　for　each　of　them。
“What’s　this　now？”　said　Del　Ruth。　“Self…directed　misery　too？”
Marquall　shrugged。　“Do　you　know；　I　was　top　of　my　class　at　Hessenville。”
“Weren’t　we　all？”　said　Del　Ruth；　raising　her　eyebrows　at　Blansher。
“No；　not　me；”　said　Blansher　sadly；　reaching　for　his　drink。　“I　was…　bottom。　Pilot…cadet　voted
most　likely　to　wash　out。　I　failed　every　exercise。　Not　just　failed；　mind。　Failed　dismally。　One　day；　my
instructor　took　me　to　one　side；　led　me　out　to　an　obs　deck　overlooking　the　Scald。　He　pointed　to　it。　He
said；　“Milan；　this　is　your　birth…world。　Plenty　of　sky；　not　very　much　land。　If　you　can’t　fly；　boy；　what
the　frig　else　do　you　think　you’re　going　to　do？　Swim　for　the　Emperor？”
Del　Ruth　snorted　her　drink　again　and　started　coughing。
“Damn　you！”　she　gagged；　wiping　her　mouth　on　a　napkin。　“That’s　twice。”
Blansher　smiled。
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“I　was　top　of　my　class；”　Marquall　said。　“Accelerated　program；　right　at　the　end　of　the　liberation
war。　I　mean；　I　was　good。　I　longed　to　fly　combat。　Kill　bats。　But　now　I’m　in　it；　in　the　combat　zone…　I
screw　up。　I　can’t　hit　a　thing。　My　birds　break　down　on　me。　I　get　people　hurt。”
“That’s　one　way　of　looking　at　it；”　Blansher　said。
“There’s　another　way？”
“Well；　for　a　start　there’s　the　matter　of　two　fine　kills。　Besides　that；　you’ve　saved　my　life　in　the
air；　and　I　can’t　speak　for　others。　You　survived　an　eject　from　a　slain　machine…　not　many　do　that。
And　there’s　that　heroic　use　of　rocket　drive　to　break　out　of　a　kill…shot。　That　last　thing　alone；　Vander；
that’s　one　for　the　archives。　I　don’t　know　of　anyone　who’s　even　tried　that；　let　alone　come　back　to　talk
about　it。　Seekan　should　have　come　to　you；　not　Larice。”
Marquall　managed　a　smile。　“Thanks；”　he　said。
“I　mean　it。”
“You’re　a　very　good　exec；　sir。　Just　what　Jagdea　expects。　You　say　the　right　things　and　boost
morale。”
“Maybe；”　said　Blansher。　“Personally；　I　think　there’s　an　up　side　to　everything。　You　just　have　to
see　it。　Say　to　yourself；　is　the　glass　half　full　or　half　empty？”
“They’re　shot　glasses；”　said　Del　Ruth　flatly；　staring　at　her　own。　“They’re　either　full　or　empty。
Anything　else；　and　someone　isn’t　trying。”
“I’ll　drink　to　that；”　said　Blansher；　and　reached　for　the　bottle。
The　three　of　them　left　the　Hydra　at　twenty　past　six　in　the　morning；　dim　light　filling　the　sky。　The
fitters　were　still　carousing。　Blansher　led　them　to　the　nearest　Munitorum　depot；　booked　out　three
transports　and　drivers　from　the　pool；　and　then　returned　to　the　Hydra　to　collect　the　reluctant　ground
crew。
They　drove　out　along　the　highway。　It　seemed　otherwise　deserted。　The　strip　of　road　was　littered
with　trash　and　discarded　possessions。　Some　broken　down　vehicles　sat　on　the　hard　shoulder。
Marquall　was　riding　in　the　back　of　one　of　the　trucks　with　Racklae　and　a　group　of　the　ground　crew。
“You　hear　that？”　he　said　suddenly。
Racklae　turned　and　cocked　his　head；　trying　to　hear　above　the　noise　of　the　truck　engine。　“Fan
drives。　Lots　of　them。”
“Another　raid？”　asked　one　of　the　men。　“Doesn’t　sound　like　bombers；”　said　Racklae。
“Heavier…”
“Oh　shit…　look！”　Marquall　cried；　pointing　to　the　southern　sky。
Massive；　multi…vectored　drop…ships　were　sliding　in　across　skies　above　the　eastern　suburbs。
Thousands　of　dots　were　showering　out　of　them；　like　windblown　pollen。
Storm　troopers；　on　jump　packs。
From　the　depths　of　the　war…torn　city　behind　them；　sirens　began　to　rise　into　a　howl。　The　mass
invasion　had　begun。
Theda　MAB　South；　06。39
The　flashes　of　the　detonations　were　coming　so　fast　the　early　daylight　appeared　to　be　strobing。　There
was　a　gritty；　sizzling　noise　from　the　continuous　bombardment。　How　could　the　sky　hold　up　so　many
aircraft？
Darrow　ran　towards　the　Operations　centre。　Bombs　were　falling　on　the　inner　city；　and　several
Tormentors　had　swung　over　the　field　wide；　loads　gone；　turning　out　over　the　sea。　The　airfield’s
defence　batteries　were　hurling　everything　they　had　at　the　sky。　Tracers　spiked　up　and　danced；　flak
turned　the　air　into　a　broiling　mass　of　flame…lit　smoke。
Fighters　were　already　lifting　off　the　field；　either　to　fight　or　flee。　Darrow　heard　mounting　engineroar
from　several　Oneros　and　other　mass　lifters。　Figures　mobbed　across　the　landscape。
“Extraction？”　Darrow　yelled　at　a　Navy　officer。
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“Everything；　now！”　the　man　yelled　back；　still　running。　“We’re　pulling　out　now！”
Darrow　looked　to　his　left　in　time　to　see　the　Apostles　lift　off。　They’d　been　prepped　for　a　first　light
call；　and　now　they　launched；　climbing　north…east　in　the　turmoil　of　the　air。　Their　cream　paintjobs
made　them　look　like　blades　of　ice　in　the　fire…lit　sky。
A　sonic　boom　split　the　air　like　the　muzzle　bang　of　an　artillery　piece。　A　Hell　Talon　streaked　long
and　low　over　the　field；　and　left　a　crop　of　furious　blasts　in　its　wake。　Two　Marauders　were　blown　up
on　their　hardstands。　Darrow　was　one　of　the　many　who　threw　themselves　flat　as　the　Talon　thundered
over。
The　wind　was　full　of　smoke　and　scraps　of　airborne　ash。　The　furious　metallic　hammering　of　a
nearby　Hydra　almost　drowned　out　the　background　roar　of　explosions　and　jet　engines。
Darrow　got　up　and　started　running　again。　Another　aircraft　went　over；　and　he　saw　running
personnel　not　twenty　metres　away　from　him　thrown　into　the　air　by　cannon　fire。　Then　there　was　a
tremendous；　vibrating　roar　and　a　prickling　wash　of　heat　as　a　laden　Onero　took　off　and　crawled　past
overhead。
There　was　blood　in　Darrow’s　left　eye。　He’d　caught　a　scratch　in　the　left　eyebrow；　shrapnel
probably；　and　blood　was　running　down　into　his　vision。　He　kept　running。　Another　big　transport　took
off；　kicking　up　dust　and　grit。
Darrow　saw　bodies　on　the　ground。　Two　Navy　airmen　and　three　ground　crew。　The　force　of　the
strafing　fire　that　had　claimed　them　had　punctured　the　ground　in　a　long；　broken　gouge；　snipped　most
of　their　garments　clean　off；　and　left　them　lying　in　impossible；　dislocated　poses。
Darrow　glanced　away。　It　was　a　hard　thing　to　look　at。
People　still　ran　past　in　all　directions。　Some　were　wounded　and　being　helped　by　others。　Two
pilots　staggered　past　carrying　a　fitter　upright　between　them。　The　fitter　was　making　an　odd；　sobbing
noise。　His　face　was—
Again；　Darrow　turned　his　eyes　aside。　Over　on　the　hard…stands；　the　latest　enemy　strafing　run　hit　a
bowser；　and　a　huge　sheet　of　yellow　flame　splashed　up　into　the　air。
On　the　northern…most　pads；　squadrons　of　Valkyrie　carriers　were　warming　up；　their　stem　hatches
open。　Personnel　streamed　towards　them　from　the　base　buildings。
More　planes　launched；　mainly　Thunderbolts。　One　of　them　was　hit　by　a　seeker…rocket　as　it　tried
to　lift；　caught　fire　violently；　and　belly　flopped　down　into　a　loading　bay；　killing　at　least　twenty
ground　crew。　Darrow　winced　at　the　heat　of　the　blasts。
Then　he　saw　Eads。　Feeling　with　his　cane；　Eads　was　approaching　the　entrance　of　the　Operations
building。　Navy　crew　ran　past　him。　A　low…flying　Locust　chewed　a　line　of　shots　up　into　the　side　of
Operations　ripping　out　brick　dust　and　pieces　of　tile　and　shutter。　Protecting　his　face；　Darrow　ran
towards　Eads。　“Sir！”
“Is　that　you；　Darrow？”
“Yes；　sir。　Come　on。　I’ll　get　you　onto　an　evacuation　flight。”
“I　should　go　to　Operations。　This　attack　needs　proper—”
“There’s　no　point；　sir！”　Darrow　yelled　above　the　concussive　noise　of　the　bombing。　“It’s　all
gone！　Everything’s　gone！　The　enemy　is　here；　right　at　the　gates！　We’re　pulling　out　now！”
A　clutch　of　submunitions　detonated　forty　metres　away；　killing　a　dozen　people。　The　pressure　of
the　blast…wave　knocked　Eads　and　Darrow　flat。　Scrambling　up；　Darrow　fought　to　get　Eads　on　his
feet。
“Someone　help　me！”　he　cried　at　the　figures　running　past。　Most　just　ignored　them。　One　went　by；
then　stopped　and　ran　back。
It　was　Scalter。
He　helped　Darrow　lift　Eads　and　they　started　moving。　Scalter　yelled　something　about　the　Blood
Pact　over　the　din。
“What？”　said　Darrow。
139
“They’re　saying　Blood　Pact　are　dropping　into　the　suburbs。　Ground　forces；　certainly。”
“God…Emperor　protect　us　all；”　Eads　said。
“Pardon　me；　sir；”　said　Scalter。　“But　right　now　it　feels　like　he’s　forgotten　all　about　us。”
Western　District　Theda；　06。40
The　sirens　woke　Jagdea。　Her　room　in　the　hab　clinic　was　cold　and　damp。　The　window　was　rattling。
She　lay　still　for　a　moment；　listening。　Apart　from　the　blare　of　the　sirens　outside；　there　was　a
murmur　of　disquiet　in　the　old　building。　Her　window　rattled　again。　No；　it　was　more　than　a　rattle。　The
glass　in　the　old　wooden　frame　was　vibrating。
She　got　out　of　bed；　and　went　to　look。
Pulsing　air　pressure　was　making　the　glass　shake。　Jagdea　could　see　the　blistering　flashes　of
pattern　bombing　detonations　underlighting　the　sky　behind　the　immediate　cityscape。　Hundreds　of
smoke　plumes　were　curling　up　into　the　murky　dawn　sky。
In　the　clinic’s　courtyard　below；　staff　members　and　patients　were　fleeing　in　droves。
Jagdea　hurried　across　the　room；　got　down　on　her　knees　beside　her　bed；　and　started　to　pull　her
clothes　and　effects　out　of　the　bedside　locker。　She　found　her　boots；　her　flight　coat—
At　that　moment；　a　high　yield　bomb　landed　on　a　building　across　the　street；　levelling　it　instantly。
The　entire　clinic　recoiled　as　if　its　foundations　were　set　on　bedsprings。　The　window　of　Jagdea’s　room
blew　in　with　the　Shockwave；　ripping　a　blizzard　of　glass　across　the　room。
Jagdea　cried　out　involuntarily；　hammered　by　the　concussion；　but　her　bed　had　shielded　her　from
the　shredding　force　of　the　glass。　She　crouched　on　the　floorboards　for　a　moment；　tense　with　shock。
She　could　smell　smoke；　fyceline　and　heat　scorching。　She　could　hear　the　crash　of　rubble；　the　flames
and　the　screaming　coming　from　outside。
Cursing　her　sling　and　the　pain　in　her　arm；　Jagdea　pulled　on　the　trousers　of　her　flightsuit；　and
then　her　boots。　She　had　a　vest　top　on；　so　she　put　the　coat　on　over　that；　good　arm　through　the　sleeve；
slung　arm　under　the　coat。
Then　she　went　out　into　the　hallway。　Smoke　was　pouring　into　the　clinic　through　the　smashed
windows　on　the　courtyard　side。　She　headed　the　other　way。　In　the　hall；　she　passed　several　patients
and　medicae　staff　lacerated　by　window　glass。　Most　were　alive；　calling　out；　helpless。
There　was　nothing　she　could　do。　The　able…bodied　staffers　that　she　saw　were　simply　running　for
the　exits。
Jagdea　found　the　stairs；　then　made　her　way　out　through　the　half　of　the　building　away　from　the
blasted　courtyard。　Outside；　she　found　herself　in　a　back　street。　A　few　people　hurried　past　her。
Looking　up；　she　could　see　strings　of　enemy　bombers　creeping　overhead。
She　ran　down　the　side　street　and　halted　at　the　corner　where　it　joined　a　main　road。　Several
commercial　pre