Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第25部分

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so　under…strength　like　Umbra。　Cobalt；　also　part　of　the　333rd；　was　twelve　strong。
“Umbra；　this　is　Cobalt　Lead。　Acknowledged。”
“Umbra　Leader；　Sabre　will　comply。”
“Stoop　and　sting；”　Blansher　ordered。
The　two　flights　committed　down；　rolling　off　from　the　front　of　the　formation　to　the　rear　in　a
formal　cascade。　Marquall　tried　to　keep　his　breathing　even　as　the　power　dive　began。　He　switched　on
the　targeters　and　lit　his　gunsight。　Guns　on；　las　selected。
The　glittering　water　was　coming　up　fast。
He　saw　the　great　black　hulks　of　the　convoy　vessels；　trailing　wakes　of　white　water；　and　the　tall；
thin　spurts　of　foam　around　them　where　detonations　were　hitting　the　sea。　And　there　were　the　bats；
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streaking　in　on　horizontal　approaches　against　the　sides　of　the　ships；　attacking　with　rockets　and
cannon。
They　were　Hell　Talons；　painted　in　various　red；　black　and　coral…pink　shades。
The　Thunderbolts　tore　into　the　mob　of　them。　For　a　second；　there　were　aircraft　and　gunfire　tracks
going　in　all　directions　around　Marquall。　He　pulled　the　stick　back　slightly　and　brought　Nine…Nine　up
level。　A　Talon　swept　by；　heading　across　onto　one　of　the　barges；　and　Marquall　banked　around　after　it。
It　started　to　fire；　churning　up　a　track　of　impacts　across　the　water　towards　the　barge’s　hull；　and
Marquall　opened　fire　too。　He　missed；　but　the　Talon　broke　off　to　starboard；　trying　to　get　out　of　his
cone　of　fire。
Marquall　didn’t　manage　to　turn　as　tightly　and　overshot　the　barge；　passing　briefly　through　the
clouds　of　smoke　it　was　emitting。　He　turned　the　plane’s　nose　and　saw　the　Talon　climbing　furiously；
so　did　likewise。
Two　Thunderbolts；　wearing　the　combat　blue　of　the　333rd；　shot　past　him；　both　chasing　Talons。
Then　a　red　Talon　swept　in　and　Marquall　had　to　roll　out　stiffly　to　avoid　it。　A　wash　of　bright　tracers；
snaking　and　rippling　like　a　wind…blown　streamer；　crossed　past　his　right　wing　tip。　Marquall　rolled
again　and　saw　a　black　Talon　zip　under　him。　He　inverted；　falling　after　it；　and　dropping　low　to　bob
back　up　on　its　tail。　The　Talon　tried　to　turn　but　he　stuck　with　it；　watching　its　ducts　for　the　tell…tale
swivel　that　announced　a　sideslip　viff。　The　Talon　rolled　left；　then　right；　but　it　couldn’t　shake　him。　He
got　a　lock…tone　but　before　he　could　fire；　two　machines　went　past　in　the　opposite　direction；　so　fast　he
had　no　time　to　identify　them；　so　hard　their　jet　wash　rocked　him　out　of　line。
More　throttle。　The　Talon　was　extending　slightly。　It　tried　a　little　viff　but　Marquall　held　on　right。
Lock…tone　for　the　second　time。　He　fired。
He　hit　it。　Buckled　pieces　of　plating　flew　off。　But　it　wasn’t　a　clean　kill。　The　Talon　rose；　finding
speed　in　desperation。
“No　you　don’t…”　said　Marquall。
Suddenly；　the　air　lit　up　around　him。　A　rain　of　las…fire。
“Umbra　Flight！　Break！　The　bastards　are　above　us！”
It　was　Blansher’s　voice。　Marquall　broke　high；　somehow　coming　out　of　the　blizzard　of　shots
unscathed。
“Umbra　Flight；　Umbra　Flight！　Bats　at　eleven。　Climb　like　hell！”
Marquall　looked　about　desperately　and　saw　twenty　or　more　Hell　Razors　diving　in　through　the
dogfight。　Either　Cobalt　Flight　had　screwed　up　completely　and　let　them　through；　or　these　were
newcomers　to　the　brawl。
Marquall　came　up　fast；　gripped　by　the　heavy　G。　He　couldn’t　even　see　the　black　Talon　any　more
and　cursed　his　own　luck。　He’d　come　so　close。
He　saw　Zemmic　diving　past；　nose　cone　lit　up　in　a　blaze　of　gunfire。　The　Talon　he　was　after
started　to　spin　and　then　lost　something—probably　coolant—in　a　gush　of　fluid。　It　fell　into　the　sea　like
a　stone。
Marquall　looped　and　saw　two　green　Razors　turning　out　wide　over　another　of　the　barges。　He
knew　if　he　pulled　away　they’d　be　after　his　tail；　so　he　went　straight　in　for　a　frontal　attack。　Coming
head　to　head；　the　closing　speed　was　alarming。　Marquall　fired　and　saw　shots　burning　back　his　way。
The　Razors　shook　past。　He　had　no　idea　if　he’d　hit　anything。
To　the　west　of　him　there　was　a　blue　Thunderbolt；　one　engine　on　fire　descending　slowly　on　a
long；　lazy　curve。　A　brief　puff　of　white　erupted　as　it　hit　the　water。
A　glance　right。　Del　Ruth　and　Ranfre；　locked　in　a　barrelling　acrobatic　tumble　with　three　Razors。
The　machines　kept　trying　to　turn　in　under　each　other；　jockeying　to　get　on　the　six。　Ranfre　was　firing
and　his　chosen　target　viffed　out　of　the　tangle　so　frantically　it　rammed　its　wingman。　The　colliding
machines　exploded　in　the　air。　Del　Ruth　and　Ranfre　broke　and　blasted　on　past。　The　remaining　bat
screamed　out　the　other　way。
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Marquall　was　on　it　immediately。　He　came　round　on　its　seven；　let　off　a　burst；　then　a　second。　The
bat　plunged。　For　a　moment；　Marquall　thought　he’d　stung　it；　but　it　was　simply　viffing　out　hard　to
switch　onto　his　tail。　Nine…Nine　shuddered　and　bucked　as　it　was　hit。　Marquall　pulled　a　violent
evasive　turn。　The　bat　shot　past　and　away。
“Umbra　Eight。　Are　you　okay？”
Marquall　checked　the　instruments。　No　critical　warning　lights　had　come　on。　“This　is　Eight。　I’m
okay。”
“Eight；　this　is　Lead。　You’re　trailing　fluid。　I　think　it’s　hydraulics。　Break　off　and　head　for　home；
do　you　copy？”
Marquall’s　heart　sank。　“Copy　that；　Lead。　I　am　breaking　off。”
By　the　time　he　began　his　approach　to　Lucerna；　Marquall　could　feel　the　damage　by　the　way
Double　Eagle　was　handling。　He　lined　up　on　the　transponder　signal；　and　made　a　good　landing　in
hangar　three　via　the　north　entry。
Racklae　got　him　out。　The　chief　fitter’s　head　was　bandaged。　The　transport　that　had　got　him　out　of
Theda　had　been　attacked；　and　he’d　been　sliced　by　shrapnel。
They　inspected　the　damage　to　Nine…Nine。
“Superficial　mostly；”　said　Racklae；　“but　you’ve　taken　a　hit　to　the　hydraulics。”
“It　didn’t　show　on　the　instruments。”
“Sometimes　it　doesn’t；　sir。　But　I’ll　check　your　critical　indicator　too。　Any　luck；　by　the　way？”
“No；”　said　Marquall。　He　didn’t　have　the　heart　to　admit　he’d　come　so　close　on　two　only　to　lose
both。　“Still　shaking　off　the　jinx。”
Lucerna　Processing；　16。30
“Put　simply；”　said　the　Munitorum　senior。　“You’re　dead。”
“Well；　I　hate　to　fly　in　the　face　of　facts…”　Viltry　began。
“Don’t　worry；”　said　the　senior。　“I’ll　just　run　it　again。　Could　you　check　the　details　as　I　have
them？”
Viltry　looked　over　the　data…slate；　and　handed　it　back。　“That’s　correct。”
The　senior　began　to　enter　the　codes　in　the　large；　brass…levered　cogitator　that　dominated　the
chamber。　Robed　clerks　hurried　in　and　out　of　the　room；　collecting　data…slates　or　depositing　scrollcases
in　the　alphabetised　pigeonholes　along　one　wall。　Viltry　shrugged　apologetically　to　the　man
waiting　in　the　doorway。　He　was　at　the　head　of　a　long；　slow…moving　queue　that　stretched　right　back
down　the　hallway　of　the　Munitorum　complex　and　out　down　the　stairs。　Viltry　had　already　spent　two
hours　in　it。
The　dirt…stained　windows　of　the　chamber　looked　down　onto　one　of　Lucerna’s　giant　docks。　The
scene　was　artificially　lit　by　frosty　blue　lumin　spheres　because　it　was　inside　a　giant　sea　cave；
protected　by　the　overhang　of　the　island　cliffs。　There　was　a　hum　of　industry　outside。　Hoists　clattered；
men　shouted。　The　wharfs　were　lined　with　extraction　barges；　disgorging　hundreds　of　men　and
machines；　crates　and　equipment　onto　the　docks。
“It’s　coming　up　the　same　again；”　the　senior　said。　“Viltry；　Oskar。　Listed　as　killed　in　action　on　the
260th；　along　with　the　rest　of　his　crew。　I’m　afraid　as　far　as　the　records　are　concerned；　you　don’t
exist。”
“And　yet；”　said　Viltry。
“Quite；”　said　the　senior。　“We’re　getting　this　a　lot；　I’m　sorry　to　say。　War　is　not　conducive　to
competent　record　management。　And　the　withdrawal　from　the　Peninsula；　well…　let’s　just　say　whole
sections　of　the　data　archive　are　missing　or　inaccurate。　You　didn’t　fly　in　with　a　unit；　did　you？”
Viltry　sighed。　He’d　been　through　this　four　times：　once　to　the　wharfinger；　once　to　a　junior　clerk
in　the　downstairs　annexe　who　was　running　a　kind　of　logistical　triage　on　the　influx　of　refugees；　and
once　already　to　this　man。
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“I’ve　been　detached　from　operations　for　over　a　week　since　my　flight　went　down　in　the　desert。　I
made　it　back　to　the　coast　as　part　of　a　retreat　column　and　then　reached　Theda。　I　just　got　on　a　barge。
Whatever　was　available。　Things　were　pretty　wild。　I’m　travelling　with　a　woman。”
“Your　wife？”
“No—”
“Fiancee？”
“No；　sir—”
“But　there　is　an　attachment？”
Viltry　shrugged。　“Yes；　we　left　the　city　together。　She　needed　to　get　out　too。　The　Blood　Pact　was
everywhere。　I　couldn’t　leave　her。　I　wasn’t　going　to　leave　her。”
“Where　is　she　now？”
“She　went　to　civilian　processing。　I　had　to　come　here。　Military。　I　hope　she’s　secured　a　place　in　a
refuge。”
“I’m　sure　she’s　fine。”
Viltry　cleared　his　throat。　“Sir；　I　just　want　to　rejoin　my　wing。　I　don’t　even　know　where　they　are。”
“Well；　not　here　at　Lucerna；　I’m　afraid。　Actually；　I　can’t　tell　you　where　the　Phantine　XX　is。　More
gaps　in　the　record。”
“Can’t　you　just…　correct　your　data？”　Viltry　asked。
“Not　that　simple；　I’m　sorry　to　say。　Once　the　records　say　you’re　dead；　I’m　not　allowed　to　argue
with　it。　The　best　I　can　do　is　register　you　as　pending。”
“What　does　that　mean？”
“It　means　I　have　many　thousands　of　new　arrivals　to　process；　disperse　and　reassign　as　quickly　as
possible；　and　I　can’t　afford　to　spend　several　hours　now　trying　to　correct　your　listing。”　The　senior
took　up　a　stylus　and　filled　in　a　paper　docket　which　he　then　stamped　a　number　of　times。
“This　is　a　temporary　document　of　registration。　It　officially　recognises　your　presence　here　at　the
base；　and　clears　you　to　receive　accommodation；　food　and　so　on。”
Viltry　looked　at　it。　“It　doesn’t　even　have　my　name　on　it。　Or　my　service　number。”
“Of　course　it　doesn’t。　If　I　register　you　by　your　name　or　service　number；　the　system　will　reject
you。　This　is　a　new　number；　freshly　issued；　so　the　system　can　accept　you。　Come　back　in　a　few　days。
Once　the　pressure’s　died　down；　I　promise　I’ll　attend　to　your　case　with　all　urgency。　That’s　the　best　I
can　do　right　now。”
“Very　well；”　said　Viltry。
Clutching　the　docket；　he　walked　out　of　the　chamber。　“Next！”　the　senior　called；　and　the　next　in
line　hurried　forward。
Viltry　wandered　away　down　the　busy；　rock…cut　hallway。　Fate　had　got　him　after　all。
Oskar　Viltry　was　dead；　and　he　was　just　an　anonymous　body　with　a　number。
Lucerna　AB；　19。17
Blansher　walked　out　onto　the　hangar　decking。　The　pilots　of　Umbra；　kitted　up；　were　waiting　in　a
group　near　the　parked　machines　where　the　fitters　were　working　hard；　repairing　the　damage　to
Marquall’s　machine；　and　patching　hits　taken　by　Del　Ruth　and　Zemmic。　It　had　been　a　furious　brawl；
and　had　continued　for　another　fifteen　minutes　after　Marquall’s　departure。　Zemmic　had　bagged　one；
Van　Tull　another　and　Blansher　two。　Despite　struggling　with　her　adopted　and　repainted　Firedrake
machine；　complaining　she　couldn’t　get　used　to　the　damn　thing；　Aggie　Del　Ruth　had　also　scored　a
good　kill。　The　Thunderbolts　had　finally　driven　the　bats　away　from　the　convoy　at　around　13。30。
Blansher　raised　his　hand。　“A　little　quiet；　please；　Mr　Racklae？”
Racklae　obliged；　and　the　sound　of　rivet　guns　and　power　drivers　stopped。
“What　is　this；　Lead？”　Zemmic　asked。　“A　snap　call？”
Blansher　smiled。　Very　quietly；　he　said；　“Officer　on　deck。”
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Bree　Jagdea　walked　up　out　of　the　dispersal　tunnel　and　came　across　the　floor　towards　them。
She’d　had　a　shower；　medical　check　and　an　issue　of　clean　clothes；　but　the　flight　jacket　was　still　her
old；　battered　original。
There　was　a　moment　of　disbelief。　Then　the　pilots　and　the　fitters　began　whooping　and　clapping。
Del　Ruth　ran　forward　and　hugged　Jagdea。　Van　Tull　shook　her　by　the　hand。　The　others　all　grouped
around。
“As　you　were；　Umbra；”　she　said。
The　clamouring　died　down　a　little。
“Good　to　see　you　too；　wing；”　she　smiled。
“We　prayed　you’d　make　it　to　an　evac；”　Del　Ruth　said。
“Actually；　that’s　not　quite　how　it　happened；”　Jagdea　replied。
“Then　how　in　Terra’s　name　did　you　get　here；　commander？”　asked　Ranfre。
“You　wouldn’t　believe　me　if　I　told　you。　Okay；　okay！　Quieten　down！　I　will　tell　you。　Later。　For
now；　I　want—”
She　paused　and　glanced　at　Blansher。　“I　apologise；　Umbra　Leader；”　she　said。　“I　quite　forgot
myself。”
He　grinned。　“For　the　record；　Acting　Wing　Leader　Blansher　hands　command　to　Bree　Jagdea；
19。18　hours。”
“I　accept　command；”　she　said。　“And　also　for　the　record；　may　I　commend　your　leadership　in　my
absence；　and　also　extend　my　highest　compliments　to　the　pilots　and　crew　for　their　sustained　work。
You　may　applaud　yourselves　loudly。”
And　they　did。
“Right；”　she　continued　when　the　ruckus　abated。　“I　want　the　flight　ready　to　go　in　an　hour。
Combat　patrol。　Manageable；　Mr　Racklae？”
“Yes；　ma’am！”
“Excellent。　We’ll　go　up；　two　hour　sweep；　then　down。　Snap　calls　permitting；　I　want　everyone
rested　overnight。　No　card　schools；　no　drinking。　We’ll　be　going　again　early。　I’ve　met　with　the　base
commander；　Vice　Air　Marshal　Dreyco；　and　I’m　appraised　of　the　situation。　This　is　how　it　stands；　and
if　I’m　blunt；　you’ll　forgive　me。　The　forces　of　the　Archenemy　have；　as　you　are　well　aware；　stormed
the　southern　Littoral。　According　to　Tactical；　they　hold　the　coast　from　Theda　through　to　Ezraville。
Despite　our　best　efforts　to　maintain　air　superiority　over　that　area；　they　have　beaten　us　back　into　the
sea。”
Jagdea　looked　around　at　their　faces。　All　of　them　looked　grim。
“We　could　not　have　predicted　their　air　power；　nor　the　efficiency　with　which　they　advanced　their
mass…carriers　to　extend　strike　range。　Nor　could　we　have　countered　the　manner　in　which　their
bombing　campaign　paved　the　way　for　drop　deployment　of　Blood　Pact　ground　forces。　They
outplayed　us；　it’s　as　simple　as　that。”
She　took　off　her　flight　jacket　and　hung　it　from　the　claws　of　a　power　lifter。　The　cavern　air　was
humid。　Her　arm　was　out　of　its　sling　now；　though　it　was　still　packed　with　dressing　pads。
“But　understand　this；”　she　continued。　“Our　efforts—and　the　lives　of　our　comrades　in　this　unit
and　the　Navy　at　large—were　not　wasted。　We　held　them。　We　delayed　them。　Face　it；　all　we　ever
hoped　to　do　was　delay　them。　We　bought　the　land　forces　time　to　get　clear。　As　I　speak；　extraction
convoys　are　sailing　north　across　the　Zophonian　Sea；　heading　for　the　main　islands　there　or　the
northern　coast　itself。　Reports　say　large　elements　of　armour　and　infantry　are　crossing　the　Festus　by
land　on　the　way　to　the　Commonwealth　fortress　hives　at　Ingeburg。　We’ve　made　it　possible　for　a
considerable　portion　of　the　Imperial　land　army　to　get　clear　of　the　war　zone。　Now　they　can　regroup
and　prepare　to　stage　a　counter…attack。　Reinforcements　are　en　route　from　the　Khan　Stars。　Due　in　eight
days。　The　Imperium　is　on　the　back　foot；　but　Enothis　is　far　from　lost。
“There’s　always　a　chance；”　she　added。
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“There’s　gonna　be　a　“but’；　isn’t　there？”　said　Cordiale。
Jagdea　nodded。　“Naturally；　pilot。　Whoever　said　the　life　of　an　Imperial　combat　flier　would　be
easy？”
“The　aviation　recruiter　back　in　scholam；”　said　Ranfre；　and　raised　a　laugh。
“The　enemy　has　driven　us　into　the　sea；”　said　Jagdea。　“But　the　sea　is　our　secret　weapon。　We’ve
got　the　islands。　Navy　wings　are　regrouping　here　at　Lucerna；　at　Onstadt；　Viper　Atoll；　Longstrand；
Salthaven；　and　also　on　the　hive　islands　of　Zophos　and　Limbus。　Long　range　squadrons　have　taken
station　on　the　northern　coastline　at　three　dozen　airfields　including　Tamuda　City　and　Enothopolis
itself。”
Jagdea　walked　across　to　the　nearest　Thunderbolt　and　placed　her　hand　against　its　flank；　like　an
ancient　warrior　patting　their　destrier。　“In　order　to　mount　his　final　offensive；　the　Archenemy　has　to
get　over　or　around　the　Zophonian　Sea。　He　will　achieve　this　by　way　of　an　air　offensive。　In　the　next
few　days；　enemy　machines　will　be　flying　in　force　from　the　southern　Littoral　with　the　intention　of
sinking　the　retreat　convoys　and　attacking　the　northern　shore。　Unchecked；　a　blanket　air　assault　such
as　that　will　crush　Enothian　hopes。　The　Northern　Affiliation　would　be　wounded　and　reeling　by　the
time　the　invasion　comes。”
She　turned　round　to　look　at　them　straight。　“All　viable　Navy　wings　have　been　charged　by
Admiral　Ornoff　to　deny　that　air　assault。　I　repeat；　we　are　commanded　that　we　should　operate　to　deny
Archenemy　air　superiority　over　the　sea。　If　we　can　just　hold　his　squadrons　back；　we　will　block　the
sharp　end　of　his　invasion；　and　stall　its　malign　force　at　the　southern　coast。”
“And　if　we　can’t？”　said　Zemmic。
“Then　we　will　have　failed。　And　Enothis　will　fall。　Any　other　bloody　silly　questions？”
The　briefing　broke　up　and　everyone　resumed　work。
Blansher　joined　Jagdea。
“Tall　order。　You　think　we　can　do　it？”
“We　can　do　what　we　do；　Mil；”　she　replied。　“After　that；　it’s　down　to　the　almighty　God…Emperor
and　the　currents　of　fate　itself。”
“But　realistically？”　Blansher　had　a　habit　of　rubbing　the　scar　tissue　that　bisected　his　lips　and　chin
when　he　was　anxious。　He　was　doing　it　now。
“Realistically？　How’s　this　for　realistic？　It　took　them　two　weeks　to　smash　us　out　of　the　south。
How　long　do　you　think　the　remainder　of　our　broken；　under…strength；　scattered　wings　can　hold　the
sea　zone？”
“Throne！”　he　said。　“But—”
Jagdea　cut　him　off。　“Or　try　this　for　realistic　instead。　The　sea　is　a　real　buffer　that　will　slow　the
enemy　more　than　the　desert　or　the　Peninsula　ever　did。　We　are　the　best　pilots　in　the　Imperium…　I
don’t　just　mean　the　Phantine；　I　mean　the　Navy　boys　too。　We　fly　to　our　limits　for　another　week；　keep
knocking　the　bastards　back；　and　maybe　we　have　a　chance。　Once　they　start　hitting　the　northern　coast；
it’s　checkmate；　but　they’ve　got　to　get　past　us　first。　Regular　combat　patrols。　Snap　calls。　Up　and　into
them。　We　could　fend　them　off。　Unless…”
“Unless　what；　Bree？”
“Unless　they　send　everything　they　have　at　us　at　once。”　Blansher　sighed。　“That’s　not　a　scenario　I
want　to　think　about。”
An　odd　look　abruptly　crossed　Jagdea’s　face。　She　turned。　“It　just　occurred　to　me。　What　the　hell
am　I　going　to　fly？”
“We’ll　find　you　something；”　Blansher　promised。
He　walked　her　over　to　one　of　the　freight　elevators　and　dropped　them　down　into　the　storage
chamber　under　number　three　hangar。　Teams　of　fitters　were　at　work　down　here　too。　In　the　glowglobe
half…light；　welding　sparks　showered　up；　bright　and　thick；　and　panel…guns　whined　and
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thumped。　The　cradle　bays　down　in　the　storage　chamber　were　circled　around　a　central　elevator
platform　that　lifted　planes　up　onto　the　main　deck。
Serial　Zero…Two　sat　on　one　of　the　repair　cradles。
“Came　in　on　one　of　the　heavy　transports；”　said　Blansher。　“The　techs　say　she’s　fit　to　fly。”
“Great　throne　of　gold！”　Jagdea　exclaimed。　“I　never　thought　I’d　see　her　again。　I　expected　to　make
do　with　a　spare　from　the　depot。”
“Praise　be　the　God…Emperor　and　the　diligence　of　his　Munitorum。　Despite　the　urgency；　they　got　a
hell　of　a　lot　of　equipment　out　of　Theda　at　the　end　there。”
“Speaking　of　spares；”　Jagdea　said；　raising　her　voice　to　be　heard　over　a　blast　of　riveting；　“what
are　those？”
Alongside　Zero…Two；　four　other　Thunderbolts　sat　on　cradles。
“Oh；　they　shouldn’t　be　here。　The　transports　brought　in　a　lot　of　unassigned　machines。　Spares。　Or
leftovers　from　units　that　don’t　exist　any　more。　That　sort　of　thing。　They　gave　us　four　of　them　because
Umbra　was　listed　as　a　twelve　element　wing。　I　explained　to　the　Munitorum　clerk　we　only　had　eight
pilots；　and　he　just　got　concerned　I　was　upsetting　his　book　keeping。”
Jagdea　walked　round　the　machines。　One　was　an　ex…Raptor　bird；　in　a