Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第3部分

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What　was　it？　Coolant？　Smouldering　electrics？　Some　other　lethal　eventuality　Darrow　hadn’t　even
thought　of？
How　long　had　they　got？　By　his　own　map　and　bearing　they　were　forty…six　minutes　out　from
Theda　MAB　North；　longer　if　Hunt　Two　maintained　its　rate　of　deceleration。　Darrow’s　fuel　gauge　still
showed　full；　but　by　Heckel’s　calculation；　none　of　them　were　likely　to　have　more　than　about　fifty
minutes　in　them。　Especially　not　Darrow；　given　his　excessive　aerobatics。
“Hunt　Flight…”　Heckel’s　voice　came　over　the　comm。　He　paused；　as　if　frantically　trying　to　make
up　his　mind。　“Hunt　Flight；　we’re　going　to　divert　to　Theda　South。　That　should　shave　fifteen；　maybe
twenty　minutes　off　the　flying　time。　Confirm　and　line　up　on　me。”
Darrow　confirmed　and　heard　the　others　do　so　too。　It　was　a　good　decision。　Flight　command
would　rather　get　six　Wolfcubs　back　at　the　wrong　MAB　than　none　back　at　all。
Darrow　switched　channels　and　heard　Heckel　banter　back　and　forth　with　Operations　as　the
reroute　was　authorised。
Then　he　heard　the　knocking　again。
He　was　about　to　call　it　in　when　Hunt　Eight　began　screeching　over　the　vox。
“Hunt　Two！　Look　at　Hunt　Two！”
Darrow　craned　his　neck　around。　The　wounded　Cub　was　gently　arcing　down　away　from　the
formation。　Its　smoke　trail　was　thicker　and　darker　now。　It　looked　heavy　and　sluggish；　as　if　much
more　gravity　was　weighing　down　on　it　than　on　the　other　planes。
“Hunt　Two！　Respond！”　Darrow　heard　Hunt　Leader　call。　“Hunt　Two！　Respond！”
A　faint　crackle；　“—think　I　can　hold　the—”
“Hunt　Two！　Bail；　for　Throne’s　sake；　Edry！　Cadet　Edry…　Clear　your　plane　now　before　you　lose
too　much　height！”
Nothing。　The　Wolfcub　was　just　a　dot　at　the　end　of　a　line　of　smoke　far　behind　and　below　them
now。　“Edry！　Cadet　Edry！”
Come　on；　Edry。　Get　out　of　there。　Darrow　strained　to　see。　With　their　fuel　loads　so　low；　none　of
them　could　risk　turning　back。　Come　on；　Edry。　Come　on！　Let　us　see　a　“chute！　Let　us　see　a　“chute；
Edry；　before—
A　small　flash；　far　away　in　the　grey…green　quilt　of　the　landscape。　A　small　flash　of　fire　and　no
“chute　at　all。
Theda　MAB　South；　07。40
By　the　time　the　transport　turned　off　the　highway　onto　the　field　approach　way；　it　had　been　joined　in
convoy　by　three　others。　They　waited　in　turn　to　be　checked　off　by　weary…looking　PDF　sentries　at　the
west　gate　and　then　rumbled　on　down　a　steep　cutting　onto　the　field　basin。
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Commander　Bree　Jagdea　raised　herself　up　on　the　hard　bench　of　the　jolting　transport　and　looked
around。　Theda　Military　Air…Base　South　covered　over　tetres　of　low　land　southwest
of　the　city　itself。　She　could　smell　the　coast　a　few　kilometres　north；　and　the　sea　air　had　layered　a
light　morning　haze　across　the　field　that　the　sun　was　just　beginning　to　cook　off。
Vast　defences　ringed　the　field。　Ditches　and　dykes；　blast　fences　and　stake　lines；　armoured　nests
for　Hydra　batteries；　pillbox　emplacements　for　raised　missile　cylinders。　There　was　a　patched
perimeter　track；　busy　at　this　hour　with　military　trucks　and　weapons　carriers　moving　both　ways；　and　a
leaner　inner　ring　of　anti…air　batteries。　To　the　south　end　of　the　field　stood　the　great　housing　hangars
and　rockcrete　armouries；　to　the　north　Operations　control　and　the　stark　derricks　and　pylons　of　the
vox；　auspex　and　modar　systems。
A　hash…shape　of　crossed　airstrips　covered　the　main　inner　area；　the　primary　runways　large　enough
to　manage　the　big　reciprocating…engined　bombers　the　locals　flew。　Jagdea　saw　a　few　of　them　parked
on　a　hardstand　in　the　distance。　Magogs；　big　and　old　and　ugly。　They’d　used　them　back　home　on
Phantine　during　the　final　offensive；　desperate　to　get　aloft　anything　that　could　fly　and　fight。　Here　they
were　a　standard　bombing　mainstay。　No　wonder　Enothis　had　been　punished　so　hard。
But　most　of　the　local　machines　had　been　shipped　out　to　clear　the　field　for　the　newcomers。
Jagdea　and　her　flight　had　arrived　in　darkness　the　night　before。　This　was　their　first　proper　look　at
the　base。　It　would　serve；　it　would　have　to。
Work　gangs　from　the　Munitorum　were　already　busy　making　field　conversions。　Labourers　were
proofing　up　more　hard…wall　silos　for　the　arriving　machines；　and　in　one　place　were　beginning　to
dozer　up　one　of　the　old　runways　to　make　additional　parking　bunkers。　The　newcomers’　aircraft；　over
seventy　of　them　already；　were　dark　shapes　under　netting　in　the　clusters　of　anti…blast　revetments　to
the　east。　There　was　a　muddle　of　activity—chugging　generators；　clunking　excavators；　bare…chested
rock…drill　operators；　growing　heaps　of　spoil—all　across　the　inner　landscape　of　the　field。
Jagdea　glanced　at　the　chronograph　strapped　around　the　thick　cuff　of　her　flightsuit。　They　were
right　on　time。　Their　transport　had　left　the　perimeter　track　and　was　bumping　towards　the　nearest　of
the　huge　drome　hangars。
“Up　and　ready。　Umbra　Flight；”　she　ordered。　The　eleven　aviators　under　her　command　gathered
up　their　kits　as　the　transport　rolled　to　a　stop。
Jagdea　jumped　down　and　took　a　deep　breath。　“Here　we　go；”　she　muttered　to　Milan　Blansher；　her
number　two。　Blansher　was　a　grizzled　veteran　in　his　forties；　his　career　tally　of　twenty…two　kills　the
finest　in　Umbra　Flight。　He　said　little；　but　she　trusted　him　with　her　life。　He　had　unusually　pale；
distant　eyes　for　a　Phantine　and　sported　a　thick　grey　moustache；　partly　to　lend　himself　an　air　of
avuncular　seniority；　mostly　to　help　conceal　the　ridge　of　white　scar　tissue　where　a　piece　of　shell
casing　had　split　his　face　from　his　right　nostril；　down　across　both　lips；　to　the　point　of　his　chin。
“Here　we　go　indeed；”　he　murmured；　and　hoisted　his　kit　onto　his　shoulder。　The　others　clambered
down。　Van　Tull；　Espere；　Larice　Asche　with　her　hair　up　in　a　non…regulation　bun；　Del　Ruth；　Clovin；
the　boy　Marquall；　Waldon；　forever　whistling　a　melody…less　tune；　Zemmic；　jangling　with　his　cluster
of　lucky　charms；　Cordiale；　Ranfre。　Almost　all　of　them　made　the　superstitious　bob　down　to　touch　the
ground。
Vander　Marquall　didn’t。　He　was　gazing　across　the　field；　watching　three　machines　of　the
Enothian　Commonwealth　Air　Force　crank　up　for　launch。　They　were　powerful；　twin…engine　deltaform
planes；　an　Interceptor　pattern　known　as　Cyclones。　Started　from　trolley…mounted　primer　coils；
their　massive　piston　engines　sucked　and　thundered　into　life；　kicking　out　plumes　of　blue　smoke　from
the　exhaust　vents　as　the　heavy　props　began　to　turn　to　a　flickering　blur。　They　rocked　impatiently　at
their　blocks　as　the　ground　crews　rolled　the　carts　aside。　Marquall　could　see　the　two…man　crews　in　the
glass　nose　cockpits　making　final　checks。　Though　most　Commonwealth　wings　had　been　withdrawn
to　make　way　for　the　offworlders；　a　flight　of　these　Cyclones　had　been　left　on　station　to　fly　top…cover
tours　while　the　Imperials　bedded　in。
“Coming；　Marquall？”　Jagdea　asked。　He　turned　and　nodded。
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“Yes；　commander。”　Marquall　was　the　youngest　aviator　in　Umbra　by　four　years；　and　the　only　one
with　no　operational　combat　experience。　Everyone　else　had　seen　at　least　some　action　during　the
Phantine　liberation。　Marquall　had　still　been　in　the　accelerated　program　at　Hessenville　when
hostilities　ended。　He　was　eager　and；　Jagdea　believed；　reasonably　gifted；　but　only　time　would　really
tell　his　worth。　He　had　the　classic　saturnine　good　looks　of　a　Phantine　male；　and　a　white；　toothy　grin
that　people　either　found　winningly　charming　or　unpleasantly　cocky。
Umbra　Flight　strode　off　across　the　apron　towards　the　hangar；　followed　by　another　flight　of
aviators　spilling　down　from　a　second　transport。　Jagdea　took　a　glance　back　at　their　own　ride。　In　the
cab；　the　Munitorum　driver　nodded　briefly　to　her。　She　could　clearly　see　how　one　half　of　his　face　was
lost　in　burn　scarring；　as　if　soft；　pink　rose　petals　had　been　plastered　across　his　skin。
They　walked　into　the　vast　drome　hangar。　The　air　inside　smelled　cold　and　damp；　with　a　tang　of
promethium。　The　interior　space　had　been　cleared；　except　for　a　lone　Shrike　under　tarps　in　a　corner；
and　a　stage　of　flak…boards　supported　by　empty　munition　crates　had　been　raised　along　the　west　wall。
A　chart　stand　and　a　hololithic　displayer　had　been　set　up　on　the　staging。
A　group　of　more　than　twenty　aviators　was　already　waiting　inside。　They　stood　near　the　stage；
their　kit　bags　at　their　feet。　Like　the　men　who　had　come　off　the　second　truck；　they　were　Navy　pilots；
wearing　grey　flight　armour　and　black　coats。　Some　of　them　sported　augmetic　eyes。　They　greeted　their
colleagues　from　the　second　truck；　but　both　groups　looked　dubiously　at　the　Phantine　as　they　came　in；
and　stayed　apart　from　them　in　segregated　groups。　Jagdea　regarded　them　casually　as　Umbra　Flight
dropped　their　bags　and　made　a　huddle。　The　Navy　fliers　kept　glancing　their　way。　Jagdea　knew　the
Phantine　Corps　was　unusual；　and　that　set　them　apart　from　the　regular　Imperial　aviators。　It
undoubtedly　would　mean　rivalry　and　a　pecking　order；　she　accepted。
They　were　tough…looking　brutes；　sturdy　and　thickset；　with　pale　skins　and　cropped　hair。　Most　of
their　flight…suits　were　reinforced　with　plating　sections　or　coats　of　chainmail；　and　their　heavy　leather
coats　were　often　fur…trimmed。　Many　had　ugly　facial　scars。　Several　displayed　medal　ribbons　and
other　honour　sashes。
“Sixty…Third　Imperial　Fighter　Wing；”　Blansher　whispered　discreetly　in　her　ear。　“The　Sundogs；
as　they　like　to　be　styled。　I　believe　that　one　there；　the　big　fellow　with　the　flight　commander　pins；　is
Leksander　Godel。　Forty　kills　last　count。”
“Yeah；　I’ve　heard　of　him；”　she　answered　lightly。
“The　other　bunch　are　the　409　Raptors；　I　believe；”　Blansher　went　on；　“which　would　make　that
unassuming　fellow　there　Wing　Leader　Ortho　Blaguer。”
“The　same？”
“The　very　same。　One　hundred　and　ten　kills。　See；　he’s　looking　at　us。”
“Then　let’s　look　somewhere　else；”　Jagdea　said　and　turned　away。
“Orbis　at　your　six！”　Pilot　Officer　Zemmic　suddenly　cried　out　loudly；　his　voice　echoing　round　the
drome。　Dismounting　from　another　transport　just　now　drawn　up　outside；　a　dozen　more　Phantine　fliers
were　marching　into　the　hangar。　Jagdea　felt　instant　relief　at　the　sight　of　familiar　faces。　Orbis　Flight；
comrades　and　friends。　At　the　head　of　them　strolled　their　commander；　Wilhem　Hayyes。
The　two　wings　clustered　together　and　greeted　each　other。
“Nice　of　you　to　join　us；”　Jagdea　grinned　as　she　shook　Hayyes　by　the　hand。
“Nice　of　you　to　wait　for　us；”　Hayyes　replied。　“I　trust　there　are　still　some　bats　flying　for　us　to
hunt。”
A　hush　suddenly　fell。　A　final　group　of　aviators；　all　Navy　men；　had　just　entered　the　hangar；
making　a　late　entrance　that　seemed　to　Jagdea　calculatedly　theatrical。　There　were　only　eight　of　them。
Their　armoured　flight…suits　were　matt　black　and　their　suede　jackets　cloud…white。　They　wore　no
insignia　or　rank　markings　whatsoever；　except　silver　Imperial　aquilae　at　their　collars。
“Holy　crap！”　Jagdea　heard　Del　Ruth　whisper。　“The　Apostles！”
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The　Apostles；　indeed。　The　celebrated　wing　of　aces；　the　very　elite。　Jagdea　wondered　which　one
was　Quint；　ace　of　aces；　which　one　Gettering。　The　tall　one；　was　that　Seekan　or　Harlsson？　Which　one
was　Suhr？
There　was　no　time　to　ask　Blansher。　Escorted　by　a　dozen　aides　and　tactical　officers；　an　imposing
figure　in　the　uniform　of　a　fleet　admiral　came　in　and　took　the　stage。　It　was　Ornoff　himself。
All　eyes　turned　to　him。
“Aviators；”　he　began；　his　voice　soft　but　carrying。　“At　18。00　yesterday　evening；　I　met　with　Lord
Militant　Humel　in　the　War　Ministry　at　Enothopolis。　The　lord　militant；　as　you　must　be　aware；　has
been　prosecuting　the　war　here　on　Enothis　for　the　last　nine　months；　in　the　name　of　Warmaster
Macaroth　and　the　God…Emperor　of　us　all。”
“The　Emperor　protects！”　one　of　the　Apostles　said　smartly；　and　everyone　eagerly　echoed　the
words。
Ornoff　nodded　appreciatively。　“I　hope　he　does；　Captain　Gettering。　In　the　meantime；　we　will　have
to　do。　I　presented　the　formal　orders　sent　to　me　by　the　Warmaster　to　Lord　Militant　Humel；　and　at
18。30　hours　precisely；　the　Lord　Militant　formally　handed　command　of　the　Enothis　theatre　to　me。”
Spontaneous　applause　broke　out　across　the　hangar　floor。
“For　now；　the　land　war　on　Enothis　is　done。　Now　the　air　war　begins。”
Theda　MAB　South；　07。46
Major　Frans　Scalter　glanced　at　the　co…pilot　alongside　him　in　the　cramped　bubble　canopy　of　the
thundering　Cyclone；　got　a　thumbs…up；　then　turned　to　wave　the　ground　crew　off。
He　adjusted　his　mask。　“Operations；　Operations。　This　is　Seeker　One。　Seeker　Flight　is　ready　for
departure。　Awaiting　permission。”
Scalter　had　his　hand　on　the　wheel…brake　lever。
“Seeker　One；　Operations。　Roll　them　out。　Main　is　open。　Fly　true　and　may　the　Emperor　protect
you。”
“Thank　you；　Operations。　Seeker　Flight；　on　my　lead。”
Scalter　released　the　brake；　and　opened　the　throttle　gently。　Bucking；　the　twin…engined　plane
began　to　creep　out　off　the　hardstand　towards　the　main　runway。　Its　wingmen　followed。　The　combined
roar　of　the　six　engines　resounded　across　the　field。
Scalter　rolled　to　the　start　position；　and　made　a　final　adjustment　to　the　trim。　At　his　side；　Artone
opened　the　radiators　and　made　the　fuel　mix　a　little　richer　for　a　lusty　take…off。
“Seeker　Flight—”　Scalter　began。
Artone　suddenly　held　up　a　hand。
“What？”
“Red　flag！”　said　Artone　urgently；　pointing　down　the　field。
“Throne！　What　now？”　snarled　Scalter。　“Operations；　this　is　Seeker　One。　We’ve　got　a　red　flag。
Please　confirm　our　clearance。”
There　was　a　pause。　Then　the　vox　fizzled。　“Negative　clearance；　negative　clearance；　Seeker　Flight。
Abort　now　and　clear　main。　Roll　off　to　revetments　fifteen　through　seventeen　and　stand　down。
Repeat—Negative　clearance；　abort　and　clear　main。”
“What　the　hell’s　going　on？”　Scalter　demanded。
“Wounded　birds；”　the　vox　replied。　“Wounded　birds　inbound。”
Twenty　kilometres　short　of　Theda　MAB　South；　07。46
They　could　see　the　spread　of　the　field；　slightly　hazy　in　the　morning　light。　Guide　paths　were　popping
off。　The　knocking　from　behind　Darrow　was　now　constant。
Major　Heckel　called　in　the　fuel　load　from　each　Cub　in　turn。　All　were　miserably　low。　Darrow
could　only　answer　full　as　he　had　no　other　reading。　Hunt　Sixteen　had　begun　to　dribble　smoke　in　the
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last　ten　minutes；　and　its　pilot　reported　rapidly　dropping　hydraulic　pressure。　Hunt　Sixteen　had　taken
at　least　two　hits　to　the　belly　during　the　brawl　over　the　mountains。
“Hunt　Flight；　this　is　Hunt　Leader。　Sixteen　and　Four　have　landing　priority。　Let　them　go　in　first
and　we’ll　follow　as　soon　as　they’re　down。　Confirm。”
Darrow　stretched　his　shoulders　against　the　harness。　Heckel　wanted　Sixteen　down　before　it　died；
and　he　wanted　Darrow　down　as　quickly　because　he　was　most　likely　flying　on　empty。
“After　you；　Hunt　Sixteen；”　Darrow　voxed；　allowing　the　Wolfcub　to　come　around　ahead　of　him。
The　Cub’s　streamer　of　smoke　pulsed　clear　then　white；　clear　then　white；　like　a　ticker　tape。
The　knocking　grew　yet　more　insistent。　Darrow　began　his　approach。
Theda　MAB　South；　07。47
“Your　fighter　wings；”　Ornoff　told　them；　“are　five　of　the　first　to　arrive　on　station　here　along　the
southern　coast。　In　the　next　seventy…two　hours；　a　total　of　fifty…eight　wings　of　the　Imperial　Navy…
and　its　affiliates…”　he　added；　with　a　nod　to　the　Phantine；　“will　be　deployed　at　airfields　along　the
entire　littoral。　Forty…two　fighter　wings；　sixteen　bomber　flights。　To　say　that　you　will　be　supporting
the　local　Commonisstatement。　You　will　form　the　front　line　in　the　air。
The　stalwart　Commonwealth　forces　who　have；　let　me　remind　you；　been　fighting　this　theatre　for
months　now；　will　take　a　supportive　role。　God…Emperor　willing；　this　may　allow　them　precious　time　to
repair；　refit；　recrew　and　rest。”
He　turned　to　the　chart　behind　him。　“I　don’t　need　to　tell　you　to　familiarise　yourself　with　the
topography；　channel　use；　and　the　location　of　friendly　fields。　Encryption　codes　will　be　changed　on　a
daily　basis。　The　Archenemy　is　listening。”
Ornoff　paused　and　slid　his　open　hand　down　the　chart　pensively。　“The　situation　here　is　grave。
Lord　Militant　Humel’s　land　forces；　ably　supported　by　the　Commonwealth　armies；　almost　succeeded
in　driving　the　Archenemy　off　this　world。　However；　in　the　last　two　months；　fortunes　have　reversed
disastrously。　The　Archenemy；　whose　remaining　surface　stronghold　is　around　the　Southern　Trinity
Hives—here—has　resupplied　in　great　force　as　part　of　the　counter…offensive　launched　last　year
through　the　Khan　Group　as　a　whole。　The　Lord　Militant’s　land　forces　are　now　in　harried　retreat
northwards　through　the　Interior　Desert…　this　region；　here。　Some　have　already　reached　the　Makanite
Range；　and　are　struggling　through　the　passes　there。　Our　task—your　task—is　to　help　as　many　of　them
reach　the　safety　of　the　Zophonian　Coast　as　possible。　We　are　to　supply　comprehensive　air　cover　to
the　retreating　columns　of　armour　and　infantry。　That　means　denying　the　enemy　airspace；　and
prosecuting　their　land　forces　with　aerial　strikes。　Enothis　will　only　be　saved　if　sufficient　portions　of
allied　land　forces　can　be　brought　back　to　the　coast　intact。　There；　with　resupply；　they　can　make　a
stand；　a　counter…attack　to　meet　the　Archenemy　invasion。”
Ornoff　looked　back　at　them　all。　“Expect　to　be　flying　sorties　round　the　clock。　A　thorough
strategic　plan　will　be　executed　as　soon　as　all　the　wings　are　on　station；　at　which　point　your　wings
may　be　reassigned　to　other　fields。　In　the　meantime；　you　will　be　flying　ad　hoc　missions　at　the
discretion　of　Operations　to　supply　cover　until　we　are　at　full　strength。”
Ornoff　raised　a　hand　and　beckoned　one　of　the　staffers　who　had　entered　the　hangar　with　him　onto
the　stage；　an　older　man　in　the　flight　kit　of　a　Commonwealth　pilot　officer。　“I’ve　invited　Commander
Parrwood　here　to　brief　you　on　climate　and　terrain　peculiarities。　Before　he　does；　any　questions？”
Godel；　the　Sundogs’　flight　commander；　raised　a　gloved　hand。　“What　are　we　to　expect　here；
admiral？”
“Superior　air　power；”　Ornoff　replied　crisply。　“Hell　Razor　and　Locust…class　fighters；　Tormentor
and　Hell　Talon…class　fighter…bombers。　The　Archenemy　is　flying　a　large　number　of　locally…made
machines。　There　are　also　reports　of　heavy　bombers；　of　a　type　yet　undetermined。　Many　of　their
planes　exhibit　extended　range；　which　may　indicate　mass　carriers　in　the　desert。”
“When　do　we　get　in　their　reach？”　one　of　the　Apostles　asked。
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“Unless　you　deny　them；　Major　Suhr；　at　their　present　rate　of　progress；　the　Archenemy　wings　will
have　range　enough　to　begin　attacking　these　coastal　bases　within　the　month。　That　is　an　eventuality　I
don’t　want　to　see。”
“And　you　won’t；　admiral；”　said　Suhr；　“because　we　will　deny　them。”　There　was　a　general
murmur　of　approval。
“Now；　if　Commander　Parrwood　would　be　so　kind　we—”
Ornoff’s　words　were　cut　off　as　a　hooter　began　to　drone　outside。　In　a　moment；　it　was　chorused　by
others。　A　deep；　ominous　moaning　wailed　out　across　the　field。
The　aviators　exchanged　glances。　Ornoff　looked　at　his　aides　and　hurried　off　the　stage；　heading　for
the　hangar　doors。　Everyone　followed。
Outside；　in　the　bright　sunlight；　they　clustered　on　the　rockcrete　apron；　scanning　the　glassy　sky。
Path　lights　had　been　lit　along　the　main　runway　track；　and　recovery　vehicles　were　growling　out　of
sheds　along　the　north　perimeter。
“Someone’s　in　trouble；”　Blansher　muttered。
“There！”　one　of　the　Navy　pilots　called；　pointing。
Low　in　the　southern　sky；　tiny　dots。　Jagdea　heard　the　distant；　burping　putter　of　pulsejets。
“That’s　low；”　said　Asche。　Several　of　the　dots　were　hanging　back；　but　two　were　moving　in。　They
could　see　sunlight　flare　off　canopies。　The　lead　plane；　a　little　da