Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第29部分

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The　engine　stuttered　and　then　died　altogether。　Nine…Nine　wobbled　back　out　of　the　line。
“Umbra　Eight；　please　advise　status。”
“Engine　out；”　Marquall　said。　He　pressed　restart　once；　twice。　Nothing。
“Leader；　engine　is　definitely　out。”
“Peel　off；　Eight；　Get　home　and　get　it　fixed。　You’re　no　good　to　me　running　on　one。”
“Copy　that；”　he　said　and　dived　away。
“Snuggle　up；　flight；”　she　said。　One　down　already　and　they　hadn’t　even　fired　a　shot　yet。
The　auspex　started　showing　a　mass　of　contacts　at　fifty　kilometres。　She　fiddled　with　her　gain
control。　It　couldn’t　be　that　massive。
But　it　was。　Auspex　assessed　overlapping　bomber　streams；　five　hundred　units　in　each。
“Holy　Throne　of　Earth；”　she　murmured。
“Umbra　Flight；　this　is　Lead。　Mass　targets　at　fifty　kilometre。　Climb　to　ten　thousand　and　let’s　go　in
onto　them。　Targets　for　all。”
“Copy　that；　Lead；”　voxed　Blansher；　and　the　planes　began　to　climb。
Darrow　adjusted　his　air…mix　and　stuck　to　Van　Tull’s　eight。　He　could　feel　the　pulse　in　his　wrists
against　the　tight　snapping　of　his　gloves。　He　toggled　his　guns　on　and　off　to　make　sure　he　got　a　green
rune。
The　vox　channels　started　going　mad。　Via　Operations；　they　were　getting　the　first　reports　of
contacts。　At　St　Hagen；　the　Sea　of　Ezra；　the　Festus　Delta。　Navy　flights　had　encountered　vast　waves　of
Archenemy　bombers　and　their　fighter　support。　Monumental　air　battles　were　now　igniting　over　the
Zophonian　Sea。
“Five　kilometres　and　closing；”　Jagdea　called。　“Hold　steady。　Keep　scanning　for　fighters。”
High　altitude　seemed　empty；　by　visual　and　auspex；　but　there　was　a　huge　mass　of　returns　from
the　lower　level。
Could　there　be　that　many　machines　in　the　air；　wondered　Darrow；　or　was　his　auspex　faulty？
“Umbra　Flight；　weapons　live；　sights　on；　targets　below　at　four　thousand。　Stoop　and　sting。”
The　Thunderbolts　peeled　off　and　went　into　their　attack　dives。　Nose　down；　reaching　maximum
velocity；　Darrow　saw　the　clouds　stream　away。　Below　them；　the　bombers。　His　auspex　had　not　lied。
The　air　was　studded　with　mass　bomber　formations。
“Attacking！”　Jagdea　voxed。
The　air　lit　up。　Festoons　of　tracer　streams　hosed　up　from　the　enemy　formation；　filling　the　air。
Darrow　felt　the　thump　and　bang　of　close　detonations　rattle　his　bird。　The　dive　was　intense。　Pick　one；
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he　thought；　pick　one；　you　bloody　fool　or　you’ll　just　go　through　them。　Explosions　blossomed　below。
Two　or　three　of　the　bombers　in　visual　range　had　gone　up。
He　chose　one；　a　massive　thing；　bright　red；　with　four　wings　and　eight　vector　engines。　He　had　no
idea　what　pattern　it　was。　It　was　the　size　of　an　Onero　at　least。　Its　multiple　bolter　turrets　ripped　up　at
him　and　he　felt　a　solid　hit　against　one　wing。
Diving　vertically　onto　it；　he　opened　fire。　His　lascannons　lit　up。　The　huge　machine’s　dorsal
plating　ruptured　and　burst　apart。　Darrow　realised　that　he　was　diving　so　steeply　and　so　hard　he　was
going　to　impact　into　the　back　of　it。　He　tried　to　pull　out。　Velocity　had　frozen　his　stick。　He　fired　again
and　again。　Hit；　hit；　hit—
The　enormous　bomber　blew　up。　A　fat；　hot；　torus　of　flame　out　of　which　little　white　tendrils　of
smoke　spat　and　trickled。　Darrow　shot　through　the　flames　and　out　under　the　formation。　If　the　bomber
hadn’t　exploded；　he　would　surely　have　collided　with　it。　He　fought　to　raise　the　nose。　It　was　a　huge
effort。　He　gripped　the　way　Jagdea　had　taught　him；　but　still　nearly　blacked　out　from　the　G。
His　bird　climbed；　the　stick　looser。　He　saw　Scalter’s　machine　whirl　past；　chasing　down　another　of
the　massive　super…bombers。　Scalter’s　sustained　shooting　dropped　it　into　the　sea。
Darrow　ascended；　nursing　the　throttle。　Perspiration　was　pouring　down　his　face　and　making　his
mask　itch。　He　blinked　the　sweat…drops　out　of　his　eyes。　His　targeter　pinged　as　another　of　the　superheavies
filled　his　sights。　Bright　blue　bolter　rounds　cindered　down　around　him　from　the　belly　guns。
He　viffed　up；　adjusted　to　the　right；　and　gave　the　thing　four　bursts　of　las。　It　lost　a　wing。　The
damage　caused　the　huge　craft　to　wallow　and　then　invert　suddenly。　It　was　on　fire　by　the　time　it　hit　the
water。
Jagdea　killed　a　Tormentor　on　her　way　down；　and　another　on　her　way　back　up。　Las　batteries
drained；　she　wound　over　onto　a　heavy　bomber；　and　switched　to　quad。　She　gave　it　a　few　bursts；　but
its　turrets　forced　her　to　back　off。
To　her　left；　she　saw　Zemmic　make　a　kill；　and　Del　Ruth　zoom　over；　chasing　a　Tormentor　that　had
broken　from　formation；　wounded。
Jagdea　kicked　her　rudder　bar　and　rolled　down　under　the　heavy。　Viltry　had　been　telling　her　about
the　sweet　spot；　the　point　that　no　turret　could　track。
Two　rounds　went　through　her　tail　armour　before　she　was　sure　she’d　found　it。　She　chattered　quad
fire　into　the　beast’s　stomach。
It　slumped　to　port；　dropping　out　of　its　line；　making　hot　smoke；　and　exploding　long　before　it
reached　the　sea。
With　Blansher　to　his　port；　Kaminsky　dropped　in　on　a　Tormentor；　letting　it　come　wide　into　his
gunsight。
It　had　been　a　long　time　since　he’d　felt　this　right。
“Fire！”　he　said。　“Fire！　Fire！”
The　lascannons　charged　and　unloaded。　The　Tormentor　broke　like　an　eggshell　and　fell　into　a
tumble。　“One　to　you；　Kaminsky；”　Blansher　voxed。　Yeah；　he　thought。　One　to　me。
Viltry　followed　Ranfre　and　Cordiale　down　through　the　chaos　of　shots　and　wafting　smoke。　He
rolled　right　and　got　a　lock　on　a　Talon　that　was　attempting　to　climb。
Before　he　could　commit　to　shoot；　he　saw　stripes　of　fire　coming　up　from　below。　He　rolled　and
looked　down。
The　air　below　was　full　of　bats；　ascending；　shooting。　The　bomber　waves　had　escort　all　right。　But
low；　not　top　cover。
“Bats！　Bats！　Bats！”　he　yelled。　“Six　o’clock　and　coming　up　vertical！”
Lucerna　AB；　06。01
Floundering　on　one　engine；　Marquall　came　into　hangar　three　and　set　down。　He　did　it　badly；　denting
the　deck　plating　and　slewing　hard；　leaving　deep　gouges　from　his　landing　claws。
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The　fitters　ran　to　Nine…Nine。　Marquall　clambered　out；　throwing　off　his　helmet　in　disgust。
“Sir？”　asked　Racklae。　“Damage？”
“No！　No；　it’s　the　bloody　port　engine！　She’s　cut　out　on　me！”　Furious；　Marquall　kicked　his　helmet
across　the　deck…way。
“We’re　on　it；　sir；”　Racklae　said；　running　to　open　the　cover。　“Just　fix　it！　Fix　it！　Bloody　fix　it！”
Marquall　yelled　at　them。　Racklae　stopped；　and　turned；　dignified。　“We’re　trying；　sir；”　he　said。
Marquall　saw　the　look　on　his　chief　fitter’s　face。　He　raised　his　hands　for　calm。　“I’m　sorry；”　he
said。　“I’m　really　sorry；　Racklae。　It’s　just　that　I　should　be　out　there。　I　should　be　engaged。　It’s　this
bloody　jinx。　The　jinx　of　Nine…Nine！　It’s　frigging　with　me　and—”
“There’s　no　jinx；”　said　Racklae　sharply。　“Why　don’t　you　shut　up；　boy？　Always　blaming　your
failures　on　something。　Your　fellow　fliers…　the　pilots　who　score　better　than　you…　your　jinxed
plane。　Anything；　just　so　long　as　it　isn’t　you。　Wake　up。　Look　closer　to　home；　and　start　doing
something　about　it；　or　by　the　Throne；　I’ll　lamp　you　with　a　wrench　myself。”
Marquall　stuttered　and　took　a　step　back。　Racklae　turned　away。　“Crews！”　he　yelled。　“Get　this
bloody　bird　airworthy　now！”
Over　the　Midwinters；　06。15
The　Razors　and　Locusts　swept　up　amongst　them；　trying　to　force　them　away　from　the　monstrous
bomber　formation。　Kaminsky　decided　he　wasn’t　having　that。
He　banked　over　and　went　to　meet　the　fighters　head　on。
“Umbra　Five；　where　the　hell　are　you　going？”　Blansher　yelled　over　the　channel。
Kaminsky　didn’t　say　anything　except；　“Fire。　Fire。　Fire。　Fire。”
Blansher　followed　him　down　through　the　fire…sneaked　air。　He　saw　a　Razor　vibrating　as　it　fell
away；　bleeding　smoke。　He　saw　a　Locust　blow　out　as　it　climbed。　Kaminsky　was　ploughing　into　them
with　deliberate；　single…minded　fury。
Blansher　pulled　in　beside　Kaminsky’s　port；　took　a　shot　at　a　rising　Locust；　then　banked　out　as　he
saw　a　crimson　Razor　turning　close。　The　Razor　was　looping　to　line　up　on　Kaminsky。　Blansher　took
him　with　the　last　three　bursts　of　his　las。
Switching　to　quad；　he　barrelled　down。　Kaminsky　had　lined　up　on　a　Locust　and　was　peppering　it
with　las…fire。　Cordiale　and　Del　Ruth　rushed　past；　gunning　at　three　Locusts　that　had　turned　away　in　a
harsh　dive。
He　saw　a　Razor　going　across　him；　viffed　his　Bolt　to　get　deflection；　and　ripped　the　hostile　down
its　length　with　quad　rounds。
Kaminsky　came　up　out　of　his　long　stoop；　and　locked　a　Locust。　“Fire。”
Nothing。　His　las　batteries　were　exhausted。　“Switch。　Fire。　Fire。”
The　quads　burst　off　at　empty　sky。　Kaminsky　soared　around；　and　found　a　bomber　right　ahead　of
him。　“Fire。　Fire。　Fire。”
The　bomber　tilted　and　began　to　come　around。　Several　engines　out；　it　was　turning　back　for　home
“Fire。　Fire；”　Kaminsky　said。
The　stricken　bomber　went　down；　suddenly　encased　in　a　shroud　of　its　own　burning　fuel。
Bats　blazed　up　past　Kaminsky。　He　rolled　over　to　greet　them。
Two　Thunderbolt　wings　and　a　formation　of　Lightnings　had　now　converged　on　their　air…brawl。
Jagdea　had　taken　a　hit　to　her　rudder　and　Zero…One　wasn’t　steering　very　well；　but　she　tanked　out　of
the　fusillade　three　Locusts　were　laying　on　her；　bent　right　and　hammered　another　Tormentor　to
fragments。
Her　fuel　load　was　getting　low。　The　rest　of　Umbra　would　be　the　same；　unless　they　hadn’t　been
doing　their　jobs　right。
“Umbra　Flight；　prepare　to　turn　for　home。　Refuel　run。　Rearm。　Come　back。”
Del　Ruth；　Cordiale　and　Zemmic　quickly　acknowledged。　Then　Darrow；　Scalter　and　Van　Tull。
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Viltry’s　affirmative　came　in　a　moment　later。
“Umbra　Two？”　she　called。
“Heard　you；　coming　out；”　Blansher　replied。
“Umbra　Five？　Kaminsky？”
“Understood；　Leader。　Fuel　is　low。　Breaking　off。”
“Umbra　Twelve？　Umbra　Twelve？　Ranfre？　Copy　me！”
She　looked　around；　scanning　the　packed　sky　for　some　sign　of　Ranfre。
Far　below；　unseen　by　Jagdea；　a　Thunderbolt　descended。
Ranfre’s　bird　had　sailed　through　the　shot…storm　of　the　bomber　pack。　Every　bolt　round　blasted　out
by　the　turrets　had　missed　it；　except　the　one　that　had　shattered　its　canopy　and　burst　Ranfre’s　skull。
His　Thunderbolt；　uncontrolled；　slowly　dropped　away　and　hit　the　sea。
Lucerna　AB；　08。13
The　flight　came　in　through　the　south　entry　of　the　hangar。　Del　Ruth’s　machine　was　making　smoke
and　Jagdea’s　rudder　was　flapping　like　a　weather　vane。
“Refit；　rearm　and　refuel！”　Jagdea　yelled　to　the　fitter　crews。
Power　loaders　and　tank　trucks　were　already　spurring　forward　the　vapour…swathed　machines。
“Where’s　Marquall？”　Jagdea　yelled　to　Racklae　over　the　noise。
“He　was　here；　ma’am！　We　fixed　him　up！　He’s　gone　up　again！”
Promethium　jetted　out　of　a　hose　poorly　fitted　to　Cordiale’s　machine。　Racklae　ran　towards　the
problem；　cursing　his　crew。
Jagdea　looked　up　out　of　the　hangar　mouth　at　the　sky。
Marquall　was　alone　out　there。
Over　the　Midwinters；　08。45
The　sky　was　lit　up　by　the　fight。　Marquall　took　a　deep　breath。　It　was　amazing。　He’d　never　seen　so
many　air　machines　in　combat　before。
He　put　Nine…Nine　into　a　dive　and　came　in　on　a　pack　of　Locusts；　thirty　strong。　He　didn’t　care。
Effortlessly；　he　rolled　into　them　and　fired　the　moment　he　had　a　tone　lock。
One　of　the　small　Archenemy　fighters　bucked；　then　flew　apart　in　a　dazzle　of　heat。
“Three！”　Marquall　whooped　to　himself。　“Three！　Frigging　three！”
The　Locust　pack　broke　and　looped。　Suddenly；　they　were　all　over　him。
He　took　three　holes　in　the　port　wing；　two　in　the　starboard　and　four　through　the　tail。
Gasping；　Marquall　turned　out　high；　trying　to　evade。　The　Locusts　swarmed　after　him。
He　saw　a　flash。　A　passing　glint。
Eight　Thunderbolts；　painted　cream；　sneaked　down　past　him　into　the　Locust　swarm。　The
Apostles。
Throne　of　Earth；　the　Apostles！　“Larice？”　he　whispered。
Holy　Terra；　those　Apostles　were　punishing　the　Locusts　hard。　Perfect　riming；　perfect　formation。
They　blitzed　into　the　pack　and　killed　most　of　them　in　one　pass。
So　fast。　Marquall　felt　almost　stationary；　even　though　the　speed　gauge　said　he　was　topping　eight
hundred。
“Larice？　Larice　Asche？”　he　called。
“Who’s　that？”　snapped　a　hard　voice。
“Umbra　Eight；”　he　said。
“Marquall？　Emperor’s　teeth！　This　is　no　time　for　reunions。　Get　your　arse　out　of　here！”
“Copy　that；　Larice。　I’m　going。”
“Get　the　hell　gone。　And　don’t　call　me　that。　I　am　Apostle　Five。”
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Over　the　Midwinters；　09。18
Blansher　led　up　the　first　four　Bolts　that　were　ready：　Van　Tull；　Cordiale；　Scalter　and　Zemmic。　The
others　would　follow　under　Jagdea　the　moment　her　rudder　was　fixed。
Blansher　turned　them　south…west；　in　the　direction　of　Theda。　Another　wing　of　eight　Thunderbolts
that　had　just　turned　round　at　Lucerna　launched　and　fell　into　step　with　them。
Ahead；　it　seemed　like　a　great　storm　had　slid　down　across　the　horizon。　There　was　a　wide；　brown
cliff　of　smoke　along　the　sea；　extending　as　far　as　Blansher　could　see；　filled　with　sparks　and　flashes
like　lightning。
As　they　closed；　the　cliff　began　to　resolve。　What　he’d　been　seeing　was　the　glare　distortion　of
thousands　of　exhaust　plumes　and　engine　fires；　ribboned　into　a　lattice　across　the　sky；　so　dense　that
from　a　distance　it　seemed　solid。
They　passed　several　Imperial　machines　limping　for　home。　Blansher　kept　calling　for　Marquall。
The　vox　was　still　burbling　with　hundreds　of　intersecting　transmissions。　According　to　Operations；　the
massive　clash　they　were　prosecuting　here　was　matched　by　a　vast　battle　over　the　Sea　of　Ezra；　and
another　near　the　east　coast　approaching　Ingeburg。　Other　reports　said　that　bomber　streams　had　got
past　the　Midwinter　line；　and　were　beginning　to　hit　Zophos　and　even　the　northern　shore。　Every
available　Imperial　machine　was　now　aloft　on　at　least　its　second　sortie　of　the　day。
Contacts　were　closing。　A　large　pack　of　Hell　Talons　cruising　north。
“Umbra　Flight；”　he　ordered。　“Engage！”
Over　the　Midwinters；　09。50
It　had　taken　an　age　for　the　fitters　to　fix　Jagdea’s　rudder。　Even　now；　Hemmen　had　warned；　it　wasn’t　a
solid　repair。　She　ascended　at　maximum　speed；　tailed　by　Del　Ruth；　Kaminsky；　Viltry　and　Darrow。　It
was　no　longer　a　matter　of　getting　track　instruction　from　Operations。　The　sky　above　the　archipelago
was　loaded　with　machines　everywhere　she　looked。
They　picked　up　a　quartet　of　Marauders；　all　damaged；　that　were　being　harried　by　a　formation　of
nine　blue　Locusts。　The　bats　seemed　to　move　as　one；　skilled　and　disciplined；　as　if　they　were
somehow　controlled　by　one　fierce　mind。
Jagdea　rolled　the　wing　into　them。
One　of　the　Marauders　was　finally　overwhelmed；　and　went　down　towards　the　atolls。　It　was　hard
to　keep　a　focus　on　the　brawl　at　hand。　Parts　of　other　dogfight　clashes　kept　impinging；　as　the　edges　of
one　skirmish　overlapped　another。　Umbra　was　rolling　with　the　blue　Locusts　when　seven　Lightnings
blundered　into　their　fight…zone；　tumbling　around　three　pairs　of　Razors。　Jagdea　found　herself　having
to　deal　with　one　of　the　Razor　pairs　which　switched　from　the　Lightnings　they’d　been　chasing　onto
her。　Any　semblance　of　strategic　formation　in　Umbra　vanished。
Darrow　turned　tightly　over　one　of　the　ailing　Marauders　and　locked　onto　a　yellow　Hell　Razor　that
seemed　to　be　either　confused　or　suffering　from　vector　damage。　He　led　his　shot；　expecting　it　to　break
left；　but　it　didn’t；　or　it　couldn’t。　As　a　result；　Darrow’s　first　burst　missed。　He　banked　to　the　right；
floating　the　machine　into　his　reticule　and　fired　again；　killing　it　instantly。
Kaminsky　and　Viltry　had　been　forced　to　the　eastern　part　of　the　skirmish；　separated　from　the
others　by　the　Razors　going　through　their　midst。　They　found　themselves　mugged　by　all　nine　of　the
blue　Locusts。　Both　of　them　began　turning　and　firing；　and　the　blue　bats　danced　away　like　a　shoal　of
fish；　triggered　by　a　single　impulse。　They　switched；　and　came　around　again；　almost　in　line。　Kaminsky
broke　hard；　and　Viltry　executed　a　savage　vector…assisted　turn；　representing　so　the　Locusts　were
almost　head　on　to　him。
He　got　a　good　but　momentary　lock　on　the　lead　plane　and　fired　his　quads；　leaving　his　thumb　on
the　stud　so　that　the　salvo　would　rake。　The　first　Locust　blew　out　and　because　they　were　running　tight；
in　line；　Viltry’s　target　lock　carried　his　bombardment　onto　the　second　one；　which　also　disintegrated。
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Then　Viltry　had　to　bank　abruptly　to　avoid　the　others。　Something　blinked　past　over　his　canopy
and　he　saw　Kaminsky　coming　in　on　a　barrel　roll　into　the　thick　of　them；　forcing　the　Locusts　to　lose
cohesion　for　the　first　time。
Kaminsky　hit　one；　then　damaged　a　second；　and　hunted　a　third　round；　at　its　six。　The　blue　bat　was
so　eager　to　avoid　the　Thunderbolt　on　its　tail　that　it　ran　blindly　across　Viltry’s　field　of　fire　and　he
stung　it　with　his　lascannons。
Kaminsky　and　Viltry　scissored　past　each　other。　Their　pack　cut　in　half；　the　Locusts　pulled　out。
Over　the　Midwinters；　10。10
Blansher’s　element　flew　out　of　their　tangle　and　enjoyed　a　brief　respite　of　quiet　air　before　a　vast　swirl
of　fighting　planes　engulfed　them　from　above。　They　were　forced　low；　then　lower　still。　Burning
engine　parts；　wing　fragments　and　pieces　of　elevator　rained　past　them　from　craft　destroyed　in　the
upper　levels　of　the　brawl。　One　large　fragment　bounced　off　Scalter’s　nose；　destroying　his　las　battery
and　stripping　the　cover　plating　off　his　starboard　turbofan。　He　cried　out　in　alarm　and　fought　with　the
controls　to　steady　the　plane。　Peering　forward；　he　could　see　energy　from　the　split　las…cables　crackling
and　sparking　on　the　dented　nose。　He　deactivated　the　power　magazine　and　switched　to　quad。
“Umbra　Seven！　Pay　attention！”　Blansher　yelled。
Scalter　had　been　so　intent　on　his　damage　that　he’d　been　flying　straight　for　too　long。　A　mauve
Hell　Talon　came　sweeping　down　out　of　the　frothing　smoke　wash　above　and　started　to　fire。
Scalter　sat　down　in　his　armour　plating；　flinching　as　the　shots　went　by。　He　seemed　to　have　frozen。
Blansher　was　too　committed　to　a　pair　of　Razors　to　help　him。
Cordiale　came　out　of　the　north；　firing　heavily。　The　Talon　took　a　hit　or　two　in　its　rear　armour　and
forgot　all　about　Scalter。　It　dropped　low；　towards　the　sea；　running　to　escape。　Cordiale　stormed　after
it。
They　went　across　the　water　at　less　than　ten　metres；　kicking　up　wash　and　spray　with　their
thrusters。　The　Talon　slipped　back　and　forth；　around　atolls　and　cliffs；　determined　not　to　climb　and
thus　make　itself　a　target。　Cordiale　stuck　to　it；　banking　as　it　banked；　slicing　around　islets　and　surface
rocks。　They　came　around　a　tall；　sheer　cliff　in　a　hard　turn；　the　noise　of　their　engines　reflecting　oddly
off　the　cliff　face；　and　immediately　had　to　leap…frog　two　mass…barges　lying　at　anchor　in　the　cove。
Cordiale　missed　the　vox　masts　of　the　big　tubs　by　centimetres。　The　Talon　rushed　low　across　the
basin；　chased　by　Hydra　batteries　along　the　beach；　and　bent　right　around　the　shoreline　of　the　atoll。
Cordiale　steered　after　it；　standing　his　plane　on　its　starboard　wing。　He　laughed　as　he　saw　that　their
passing　rush　had　caused　seabirds　to　take　off　in　panic　out　of　the　rocks。
The　Talon　twisted　to　port；　skimming　over　a　pattern　of　low；　semi…submerged　islets。　Following；
Cordiale　heard　the　lock　tone　and　fired。
The　Talon　lurched　and　plunged　nose…down　into　the　rocks；　detonating　with　huge　force。　Cordiale
shot　past　it；　glancing　back　at　the　fireball　gleefully。
Travelling　at　seven　hundred　kilometres　an　hour；　his　plane　tore　into　another　flock　of　startled
seabirds　erupting　from　the　low　rocks。　Each　one　weighed　a　kilo　or　more；　and　they　shredded　his　nose
cone　and　front　plating　like　jack…hammers。　Two　annihilated　his　right　engine；　and　one　punched
through　his　canopy；　shattered　the　gunsight　and　hit　him　square　in　the　face；　driving　his　goggles　into
his　skull　and　snapping　his　neck　instantl