Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第23部分

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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　premises　were　on　fire；　and　there　was　debris　in　the　street。　People　rushed　by；　some　crying
and　wailing　in　blind　panic。
A　truck　went　by；　then　a　car。　She　tried　to　wave　them　down；　but　they　ignored　her。　In　fact；　the　car
almost　hit　her；　so　determined　was　the　driver　not　to　stop。　Jagdea　yelled　in　frustration。　She’d　lost　her
bearings；　and　didn’t　even　know　which　way　the　base　was　from　there。
The　only　thing　she　did　know　for　sure　was　that　it　was　more　than　walking　distance。
But　she　didn’t　seem　to　have　much　choice。
Theda　MAB　South；　06。59
Darrow　and　Scalter　hurried　Eads　onto　the　northern　pads。　Some　of　the　Valkyries　there　had　already
started　lifting　clear；　fully　laden；　probably　overladen。　One　had　been　hit　before　take…off；　and　was
burning　furiously　on　the　hard…pan。　Frantic　personnel　swarmed　around　the　ramps　and　side　doors　of
the　others。　The　door　gunner　teams　were　trying　to　organise　boarding；　but　the　panic　was　such　that
fights　were　breaking　out。
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Darrow　looked　around。　He　felt　a　knot　of　panic　in　his　own　gut。　“Throne’s　sake；”　he　said；　aware　of
a　tremulous　quality　in　his　voice　that　he　couldn’t　help。　“There　won’t　be　enough　places。”
“We’ll　try　there；”　Scalter　said；　determinedly　holding　his　nerves　together。　On　the　far　north　edge
of　the　pad　area；　almost　by　the　field’s　blast　fences；　three　old　bulk　transport…lifters　were　warming　up。
The　machines　were　a　good　distance　away　from　where　they　stood。　But　it　seemed　most　of　the
evacuees　wanted　a　place　on　one　of　the　faster；　better　armoured　Valkyries。　The　trio　started　across　the
pads　towards　the　transporters。　Other　individuals；　unable　to　get　aboard　a　combat　carrier；　or　unwilling
to　endure　the　fight　that　would　entail；　began　to　break　off　from　the　clamouring　groups　around　the
Valkyries　and　head　the　same　way　too。
Still　moving；　Darrow　looked　round　sharply　at　the　sound　of　small…arms　fire。　Someone　had
snapped　and　drawn　a　handgun；　trying　to　shoot　his　way　onto　a　Valkyrie。
In　response；　the　door　crew　slammed　the　hatches　shut　and　the　carrier　lifted　off；　scattering　the
crowd　that　had　been　trying　to　get　on　it。　Denied　their　chance　of　escape；　the　mob　turned　on　the　man
who’d　fired　the　gun。
The　Valkyrie　went　over　them；　and　then；　to　Darrow’s　amazement；　came　back　in　to　land　ahead　of
them。
The　door　gunners　opened　the　ramp　again　and　started　to　wave　at　them。　The　machine’s　crew　had
clearly　not　been　able　to　stomach　the　idea　of　leaving　Theda　empty　when　lives　were　wasting。
Darrow　and　Scalter　ran　Eads　bodily　towards　the　ramp；　in　under　the　tail　booms　and　into　the
embrace　of　the　gunners。
“Get　in！　Inside！　Find　a　space　and　a　handhold！”
The　compartment　was　dark；　a　hot　metal　box。　As　they　got　Eads　into　a　scissor…seat；　the　door　crew
brought　aboard　several　more　stragglers。　A　buzzer　sounded。　The　ramp　began　to　retract　again；　and　the
engine　noise　rose　to　a　scream。
With　a　lurch；　they　left　the　ground；　nose　down；　and　began　to　accelerate　and　climb。
Theda　MAB　South；　07。02
Before　the　trucks　had　even　come　to　a　halt；　the　last　three　pilots　of　Umbra　Flight　had　jumped　clear　and
started　to　run　towards　their　hardstand　shelters。　The　fitters　followed　them。
“I　need　just　five　of　you！”　Racklae　bellowed　above　the　raging　bombardment。　“The　rest…　get
going。　Evac　transport　over　there！”
Racklae　turned　and　kept　running　with　the　five　men　who’d　volunteered。　The　others　started
sprinting　towards　the　last　two　Oneros　that　were　loading　near　the　main　drome　hangar。
The　truck　drivers　ran　with　them。
The　whole　airfield　seemed　to　be　on　fire。　There　were　bodies　and　shell…holes　everywhere；
overturned　vehicles；　buckled　munitions　carts。　Some　handstands　were　ablaze；　and　in　some　burned　the
wrecks　of　planes　that　had　never　made　it　up。　Two　Lightnings　launched；　and　swept　away　north。
Marquall　fully　expected　to　find　Double　Eagle　in　pieces。
But　it　was　intact；　and　so　was　Blansher’s　bird。　Del　Ruth’s；　however；　had　been　caught　by　strafing
fire。　The　engines　and　cockpit　were　just　mangled　ribbons　of　metal。
All　the　other　Umbra　machines　were　gone。　Cordiale；　Ranfre；　Zemmic　and　Van　Tull　must　have
made　it　out。　Into　the　air；　at　least。
Three　Razors　went　over；　low；　drives　shrieking。　In　the　western　sector　of　the　airfield；　Tormentors
were　drizzling　submunitions　on　the　machine　shops。
Racklae　sent　two　of　his　men　to　ready　Marquall’s　plane；　and　two　to　do　the　same　for　Blansher’s。
“Basic　checks；　clear　them　off；　and　then　head　for　the　transports！”　he　emphasised。
With　Del　Ruth　and　the　remaining　fitter；　Racklae　ran　across　to　the　adjacent　row　of　hardstand
shelters。　The　Thunderbolt　wing　that　had　occupied　this　area；　the　76th　Firedrakes；　had　already　quit；
but　they’d　left　two　of　their　mustard…yellow　Bolts　behind。　Bodies　on　the　ground　nearby　left　little
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doubt　that　both　pilots　had　been　thrown　down；　along　with　members　of　the　ground　crew；　on　the　way　to
their　machines。
One　of　the　abandoned　Bolts　had　tail　and　elevator　damage；　but　the　other　seemed　okay。　Racklae
started　work　getting　Del　Ruth　airborne。
Marquall　dropped　into　his　own　cockpit；　and　switched　primary　systems　on　with　one　hand　as　he
wrestled　to　strap　up　his　harness。　One　of　the　fitters　rolled　the　primer　cart　close　for　connection　as　the
other　disengaged　the　fuel　and　data…feed　lines；　and　then　jumped　up　on　the　wing　plates　to　pass
Marquall　his　helmet。
The　primer　fired　and　surged；　and　after　a　second；　Nine…Nine’s　mighty　turbofans　began　to　turn。
Marquall　leaned　out。
“Unhook　the　primer　and　get　out　of　here！”　he　yelled　at　the　fitters　over　the　rising　whine。　“Just　go！”
They　ducked　out　of　view　under　the　cowling。　Marquall　closed　and　locked　his　own　lid；　fastened
his　mask；　and　then　did　a　last　preflight　overview　of　vitals。　Pressure；　coolant；　fuel；　electronics；　airmix；
ammunition。　Green　all　around。
The　fitters　reappeared；　and　waved　him　double　thumbs。　He　signalled　back　okay；　and　the　two　men
turned　and　began　to　run。
The　last　Marquall　saw　of　them；　they　were　crossing　the　asphalt　apron　towards　the　heavy　lifters。
Ducts　angled　to　vertical；　Marquall　eased　open　the　throttle　and　brought　Double　Eagle　up　and
away　from　the　ground。
“Two；　this　is　Eight。　I’m　going　clear。”
“Copy　that；　Eight。　Just　get　out　of　here。”
In　the　present　circumstances；　no　pilot　needed　to　be　dawdling　about　on　lift。　Still　low；　he　swung
the　nose；　and　lit　the　burners　as　he　wound　the　ducts　round　to　level。
Marquall’s　Thunderbolt　crossed　the　blazing　airfield　at　rooftop　height；　power　building。　He
glimpsed　bats　crossing　behind　him；　but　he　ignored　them。　No　tone　warnings。
He　turned　into　a　wide　climb　north；　and　in　thirty　seconds　was　crossing　the　coastal　ramparts　and
the　long　white　seam　of　the　shoreline　strand。　Sea　was　under　him　now。
“Two？　This　is　Eight。　Are　you　clear？”
“Confirm　that；　Eight。　Coming　up　at　your　five。　Don’t　wait　for　me。　Turn　and　punch　it。”
A　thousand　metres　below；　Blansher　watched　Marquall’s　Bolt　blasting　eastwards。　He　waited；
then　banked　firmly；　turning　back　towards　the　field　he　had　only　just　left。
“Four？　Where　are　you？　Aggie；　are　you　launching？”
From　his　high　vantage　point；　the　true　extent　of　the　destruction　was　finally　clear。　Blansher　could
only　half…see　the　ruined　airfield　through　the　blanket　of　black　smoke　and　the　sudden　blooms　of　white
and　yellow　flame。　Beyond　it；　Theda　City　was　encased　in　a　vast　nimbus　of　smoke。　The　air　to　the
south　was　crawling　with　formations　of　enemy　planes；　dots　that　caught　the　sunlight　and　twinkled
against　the　dark　clouds。
“Aggie？　Where　are　you？”
He　made　another　pass　over　the　MAB。　Below；　Blansher　saw　two　fat　Oneros　plough　up　out　of　the
boiling　vapour　and　thunder　away　in　a　tight　track　eastwards。　Then　a　smaller　transport　plane　came　up；
but　it　seemed　to　be　in　trouble。　His　blood　chilled　as　he　saw　a　pair　of　Locusts　streak　over　it　diagonally
and　turn　it　into　a　fireball。
“Two？　Two；　are　you　receiving？　This　is　Four。”
“Go　ahead；　I　hear　you。”
“Coming　up　now。”
Blansher　banked　again　and　saw　the　tiny；　cruciform　shape　of　Del　Ruth’s　yellow　Thunderbolt　as　it
emerged　from　the　smoke　line。　It　was　rising　cleanly。　Instinctively；　Blansher　turned　his　rudder　and
rolled　down　so　that　he　was　coming　in　behind　her　as　she　climbed。
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A　Hell　Talon；　having　just　emptied　its　payload　onto　the　field’s　main　drome；　swept　out　of　the
smoke　and　saw　the　flare　of　her　burners。　Opportunistic；　it　lined　up　immediately；　using　its　pull…out
momentum　to　propel　it　into　a　rear　attack。
It　was　five　hundred　metres　lower　than　Blansher；　and　about　the　same　distance　ahead。　Blansher　hit
the　throttle；　punched　back　into　his　seat；　and　dropped　low；　flicking　on　his　targeters　and　activating　his
gunsight。　He　selected　quad。　He　didn’t　want　to　risk　hitting　Del　Ruth　with　lasfire　if　he　missed。
All　Thunderbolts　had　their　own　feel；　their　own　temperament。　Del　Ruth　was　still　getting　used　to
the　individual　character　of　her　new　machine；　and　as　a　result　was　flying　slightly　erratically。
It　saved　her　life。
The　Talon’s　first　bursts；　which　looked　like　the　sparks　of　a　striking　tinderbox　from　Blansher’s
position；　went　wide。
Blansher　tore　down；　levelled　out；　viffed　slightly　to　adjust；　and　got　the　tone　ping　he’d　been
praying　for。
His　thumb　pressed　hard。
A　cone　of　smoke　gouted　out　around　the　nose　of　his　bird　as　the　quads　chattered。
A　sudden；　savage　spray　of　fragments　burst　out　of　the　Hell　Talon。　Blansher　kept　firing；　smacking
his　shots　into　its　midsection。　Fire　guttered　out；　then　the　enemy　machine　split　into　two　large　sections；
almost　divided　along　its　centreline。　The　shorn　segments　fluttered　away　below　him。
“You’re　clear；　Four。　Get　moving；”　he　voxed。
“You　shouldn’t　have　come　back　for　me；　Mil；”　her　reply　crackled。　“You　should　already　be　gone。”
Not　true；　he　thought。　Not　true　at　all。　As　acting　flight　commander；　it　was　his　duty　to　make　sure　all
his　pilots　got　clear；　even　if　it　meant　his　own　life。
And　the　real　tragedy　was　Umbra　Flight　had　left　one　pilot　behind；　and　there　was　now　nothing　any
of　them　could　do　about　it。
Western　District　Theda；　07。26
Jagdea　struggled　along　the　transitway　between　hab　stacks；　yelling　at　every　vehicle　that　rumbled　by。
Nothing　stopped。　There　were　people　in　the　streets；　and　a　penetrating；　sickly　air　of　distress；
something　which　the　word　“panic”　no　longer　did　justice　to。　Every　few　seconds　there　was　a　flash　or　a
rumble　from　the　east；　and　the　ground　shook　several　times。　One　particularly　large　detonation　away　to
the　south　was　followed　by　a　failure　in　power　supply　betrayed　only　by　the　sudden　cessation　of　the
raid　sirens。　After　that；　in　the　strange　quiet；　there　was　just　the　distant　booming；　the　whistle　and　crump
of　munitions；　the　drone　of　aviation　engines。　Once　or　twice；　Jagdea　thought　she　heard　distant　gunfire；
small…arms。　She　put　that　down　to　her　imagination。
Her　wound　throbbed。　She’d　brought　no　meds　with　her；　and　she　had　managed　to　knock　her　sling
half　a　dozen　times　during　dashes　for　cover　when　bombers　came　over。
Fatigue　overcame　her；　quite　suddenly。　Fatigue；　and　a　sense　of　hopelessness。　She　sat　down　on　a
kerb　and　felt　tears　running　down　her　cheeks。　How　weak　was　that？　How　bloody　weak　was　that？
A　truck　went　past。　She　didn’t　even　look　up。　She　heard　a　screech　of　brakes。
Jagdea　lifted　her　head。　A　Munitorum　transporter；　laden　with　packing　cartons；　had　pulled　to　a　halt
twenty　metres　away；　and　the　driver　was　dismounting。
Jagdea　rose　to　her　feet。　It　was　the　driver；　the　man　with　the　burn…scarred　face。　What　was　his
name？　She　couldn’t　remember。　She　wondered　if　he’d　told　her。　She　wondered　if　she’d　ever　bothered
to　ask。
“Commander　Jagdea？　Is　that　you？”
She　nodded。　He　hurried　over　to　her。　“I　saw　the　jacket。　Recognised　an　aviator’s　uniform。　God…
Emperor；　are　you　all　right？”
“No；”　she　said。
“You　need　a　lift？”
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“Of　course　I　bloody　do。”
He　helped　her　over　to　the　cab　and　supported　her　as　she　climbed　up。　Then　he　ran　around　to　the
driver’s　side　and　got　in。
“What　are　you　doing　here？”　he　asked　as　he　threw　the　truck　into　forward　gear。
“I　was　in　a　hab　clinic。　Wounded　on　a　sortie。　I　heard　the　raid　begin　and…　I　started　to　walk。”
“What？　To　MAB　South？”
She　wiped　her　face。　“I’m　not　sure　I　know　where　I　was　going。　Just…　trying　to　rejoin　my　unit。”
“Of　course。　Wouldn’t　want　another　FTR；”　he　said。
She　hesitated。　“I　never　did　thank　you　for　your　help　that　night。”
“What　help？　I　was　out　of　line；　talking　to　the　boy　like　that。　You　had　every　reason　to　be　angry　at
me。　Apart　from　that；　what　did　I　do？　A　bit　of　driving　for　you。　That’s　all　I’m　good　for　these　days。　The
Munitorum　gives　me　instructions；　and　I　do　some　driving　for　them。”
“Even　now？　In　the　middle　of　this？”
“Even　now。　I　am　a　servant　of　the　Throne；　commander。　I　do　as　I’m　bid。　My　senior　sent　me　to
Kozkoh　Administorum；　with　orders　to　collect　a　bunch　of　Munitorum　record　files　that　someone
somewhere　didn’t　want　falling　into　enemy　hands。”
Jagdea　shook　her　head。　“Record　files？　Not　people？　You　could　be　carrying　a　couple　of　dozen
human　lives　to　safety　in　this　truck。”
“That　had　occurred　to　me；　commander。　The　Munitorum　has　curious　priorities；　especially　at　times
like　this。”
She　looked　round　at　him。　He　was　concentrating　on　the　road　ahead。　She　realised　for　the　first　time
that　he　had　probably　been　a　good　looking　man　before　half　his　face　had　been　melted。
“I　don’t　even　know　your　name；”　she　said。
“Kaminsky；”　he　replied。　“August　Kaminsky。　Munitorum　Transit　Division；　vehicle　167。”
“You　were　aircrew　before　that。”
“Combat　pilot；　Commonwealth　Airforce。　Wolfcubs　and　the　like。　Sixteen　years。　But　that’s
ancient　history。”
“Look；　Kaminsky；”　she　began。　“Can　you　get　me　to　the　field？　I　know　you　have　orders；　but　I
really　need　to　rejoin　my　command。”
He　shrugged。　“I　don’t　know。　Really；　I　don’t。　From　here；　it　would　be　a　long　slog；　especially　given
the　circumstances。”
“Then　I　need　to　evac　at　least。　Anywhere　closer？”
“Well；　I’ve　been　told　to　report　to　an　extraction　centre　at　Mandora　Point　on　the　north　shore。
That’s　where　these　damn　record　files　are　supposed　to　be　delivered。　There　should　be　mass…barges
there；　maybe　even　lifters。　Good　enough？”
“Okay；　that’ll　do。　I　just　need　to　get　out。　Get　out　and　clear　and　then　back　in　the　game。”　He　smiled。
“What？”　she　asked。
“I’ve　been　thinking　that　for　months；”　he　said。
They　rode　on　for　fifteen　minutes　without　talking。　Kaminsky　drove　hard；　almost　recklessly；
through　the　shattered　streets。　Several　times；　Jagdea　winced　as　he　ran　them　into　walls　of　smoke　that
washed　across　the　roadway；　without　knowing　what　might　be　concealed　by　them。　Twice；　Kaminsky
had　to　brake　hard　to　avoid　debris　and　slopes　of　rubble。
“Theda’s　done　for；”　he　said　at　last。
“Yes。　I’m　afraid　it　might　be。”
“I　guess　these　are　the　end　times。”
“There’s　still　a　chance；”　she　said。
Swinging　the　wheel；　he　laughed　at　her。　“I　don’t　think　so。　Not　now。”
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“If　a　member　of　my　flight　spoke　like　that；　I’d　have　them　up　on　charges。　There’s　always　a
chance。　While　we　still　breathe；　by　the　grace　of　the　Emperor；　there’s　still　a　chance。”
“Then　I　count　myself　fortunate　that　I’m　not　a　member　of　your　flight；　mamzel。　Enothis　is　my
homeworld；　and　I　gave　everything　I　had　to　protect　it。　There　comes　a　time　when　a　person　has　to　be
pragmatic。”
“I　fought　for　my　homeworld　too。　Now　I’m　here　fighting　for　yours。　Don’t　talk　to　me　about　effort。
Don’t　talk　to　me　about　contribution。　And　as　for　being　pragmatic；　that’s　sometimes　just　another　word
for　defeatist。”
“Well；　screw　you　too；　mamzel—”
“Kaminsky！　Look　out！”
They’d　just　come　through　another　drift　of　smoke。　In　the　suddenly…revealed　road　ahead；　a　group
of　figures；　dressed　in　dark　red　uniforms；　turned　to　face　them。
Jagdea　saw　leering　iron　masks；　bowl　helmets；　lasrifles。
“Blood　Pact！”　she　blurted　out。
“Turn　round！　Turn　us　around！”
Kaminsky　was　already　hauling　on　the　wheel。　He　swore　loudly；　fighting　to　avoid　a　full　skid。　The
truck　slewed　around　madly；　stripping　tread　from　its　fat　tyres。　It　came　side…on　to　the　Archenemy
troopers。
And　stalled。
“Kaminsky！　Kaminsky！”　Jagdea　yelled。
“Stop　shouting　at　me！”　he　yelled；　gunning　the　starter。　The　Blood　Part　drop…troops　began　to　fire
at　them；　running　forward。　Las…rounds　smacked　into　the　mack’s　side　and　one　crazed　the　door
window。
“Kaminsky！　For　Throne’s　sake！”
“Will　you　shut　up；　woman？”　A　las…round　went　clean　through　the　cab　in　front　of　their　faces；
shattering　Kaminsky’s　side　pane。
The　truck’s　engines　burst　back　into　life。
Jagdea　was　thrown　back　against　the　seat　by　the　violent　restart。　Her　left　arm　cracked　against　the
door　jamb　and　she　howled　in　pain。
Kaminsky　swung　them　round　to　the　left；　standing　on　the　accelerator。　The　big　truck　side…swiped
the　burned…out　shell　of　a　car；　and　slammed　it　out　of　the　way。　Then　the　Blood　Pact　squad　was　behind
them　and　they　were　barrelling　away　down　a　side　street　at　nearly　sixty。
“Are　you　hit？”　he　said。
“No。”
“You　cried　out。”
“I’m　not　hit。”
“I’m　sorry　I　shouted　at　you。”
“It　doesn’t　matter。”
“Looks　like　we’re　not　going　that　way；”　Kaminsky　said。
Theda　Old　Town；　07。43
All　along　the　canal　side；　recent　bombing　had　felled　the　ancient　buildings　and　tenements；　even　the
old　Kazergat　Bridge。　But　the　templum　was　miraculously　unscathed。　Coughing　in　the　smoke　and
brick　dust；　Viltry　hurried　along　the　canal’s　bank　and　went　down　to　the　church　door。
He　paused　there；　and　glanced　up　at　the　effigy　of　the　God…Emperor。　“Remember　me？”　he　asked。
Viltry　opened　the　door。
It　was　almost　disturbingly　calm　inside。　The　air　was　clear；　though　he　could　still　smell　the　stink　of
smoke　from　the　firebombing。　The　templum　was　empty。　The　rows　of　pews；　the　alabaster　columns；
the　faint　residue　of　camphor　and　incense。
145
He　walked　down　the　aisle；　his　boots　dipping　on　the　mosaic　flooring。　Saints　and　daemons　passed
under　his　heels。　The　Ministorum　priests　had　long　since　fled。
He　came　to　a　halt　in　front　of　the　votary　shrine。
Three　candles　burned　there。　Just　three。
“God…Emperor…”　he　sighed。
“Oskar？”
Oskar　Viltry　turned　slowly。
She　had　been　sitting　at　the　end　of　a　pew　row；　hidden　behind　a　column。　He　hadn’t　seen　her。　She
was　shivering　in　her　thin　coat。
He　took　a　step　towards　her；　almost　laughing　out　in　strange　delight。
“What　are　you　doing　here？”　he　whispered。
“Where　else　could　I　go？”　Beqa　Mayer　said。　“How　else　would　you　know　where　to　find　me？”
Northern　Theda；　08。12
They　tore　out　of　the　dying　city　and　onto　a　coastal　highland　where　the　habs　became　infrequent　and
scattered。　Jagdea　glimpsed　the　sea　beyond　the　headland。
“Kaminsky？　Where　are　we　going？”　she　asked。
“Not　the　field；　that’s　for　sure。　Or　the　extraction　either。　The　bastards　have　the　whole　place　locked
down。　I’m　running　on　a　hunch。”
“What　sort　of　hunch？”
“The　sort　of　hunch　that　will　disappoint　you　if　it　doesn’t　work。”
“Kaminsky？”
“I　think　there　comes　a　point；”　said　Kaminsky；　“where　the　act　of　being　pragmatic　and　the　notion
there’s　always　still　a　chance　become　the　same　thing。”
They　went　under　a　road…bridge　and　then　down　a　steep　hill　between　rows　of　fish　processing
plants。　Kaminsky　suddenly　turned　right；　and　drove　the　truck　down　an　access　way　into　a　yard　behind
the　manufactories。
Ahead　of　them　stood　a　line　of　flakboard　sheds　facing　the　edge　of　the　sea　cliff。　The　sheds　were
painted　green。　The　nearest　had　a　large；　shuttered　door　in　the　side　of　it。　It　was　barred　and　locked。