Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第30部分

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his　skull　and　snapping　his　neck　instantly。
Umbra　Eleven　hit　the　outer　line　of　the　rocks　and　disintegrated　in　a　blizzard　of　hull　plates；　cables
and　machine　parts。
Over　the　Midwinters；　10。45
Swinging　wide　for　home；　Jagdea’s　flight　had　come　up　on　a　Tormentor　wing　that　had　broken　from
the　thicker　fighting　and　was　heading　towards　the　Sea　of　Ezra。　They　harried　it　until　their　tanks　were
too　low。
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Gaining　altitude　for　Lucerna；　they　sighted　Marquall。
“Umbra　Eight；”　Jagdea　voxed。　“Where　the　hell　have　you　been？”
“Not　really　sure；　Lead；”　Marquall　responded。　“But　wherever　it　was；　there　was　an　awful　lot　of
planes　there。”
Lucerna　AB；　11。30
“Turn　them　around　as　quickly　as　you　can！”　Jagdea　said　as　she　jumped　down。　Her　four　had　brought
Marquall　back　with　them。　According　to　Operations　chatter；　Blansher’s　element　was　five　minutes
away。
“Yes；　ma’am！”　Racklae　replied。　Smoke　was　coming　out　from　under　Kaminsky’s　machine；　and
Racklae　yelled　at　a　deck　crewman　to　get　it　doused。　Turning　back　to　Jagdea；　he　indicated　the　trolleys
of　ammunition　at　the　hangar　side　waiting　to　be　loaded。
“We’ve　not　got　the　whole　of　our　last　order；　commander；”　he　said。　“I’ve　called　down　to　the　base
arsenal；　and　they　told　me　we’re　draining　the　magazines。　This　morning　so　far　they’ve　fetched　up　as
much　as　they　would　usually　in　eight　days。”
“They’ll　have　to　work　harder；”　Jagdea　said。
“It’s　not　that；　mamzel。　The　magazines　are　actually　emptying。　They’re　having　to　pull　munitions
supplies　that　came　in　on　the　barges　and　haven’t　been　unloaded　yet。　It’s　slowing　things　down。”
“I’ll　go　and　put　in　a　good　word；”　Jagdea　said；　heading　for　the　briefing　room。　As　she　walked；　she
turned　round　and　shouted；　“Pilots！　Make　sure　you　all；　I　repeat　all；　get　some　fluid　inside　yourselves！
Maybe　a　little　food　too；　if　you　can　stomach　it；　but　not　too　much。　Fluid　is　a　necessity。”
Marquall　dismounted　and　took　a　water　bottle　that　one　of　his　fitters　offered　him。　He　spat　out　the
first　mouthful；　trying　get　rid　of　the　thick　taste　of　rubber　his　mask　had　left　in　his　mouth。
“Running　better？”　Racklae　asked。
Marquall　nodded。　“Look　I　want　to　apologise　f—”
Racklae　shook　his　head。　“Least　said；　soonest　mended；　sir。”
“I　got　my　third；”　Marquall　said。
The　chief　fitter　grinned；　and　clapped　him　on　the　shoulder。　“There；　you　see？　What　jinx？”
In　the　briefing　room；　Jagdea　got　on　the　vox　to　the　armourers　and　had　to　listen　while　someone
told　her　the　same　story　she’d　heard　from　Racklae。
“Just　take　a　look　up　at　the　sky　and　see　if　that　helps　you　any；”　she　said　and　hung　up。
While　she’d　been　making　the　call；　Jagdea　had　been　gazing　across　at　the　main　auspex。　It　looked
more　like　the　climate　plot　of　a　tropical　storm　than　aircraft　tracking。
Viltry　came　in；　put　down　his　helmet　and　came　to　look　at　the　screen　too。
“Operations　say　they’re　breaking　off；”　Viltry　said。
“Operations　can　kiss　my　arse；　they’re　not　up　there。”
“No；”　Viltry　pointed　to　the　southern　sections　of　the　display。　“I　can　sort　of　see　what　they　mean。
Overall。　That　was　a　huge　wave　pattern　they　threw　at　us　at　dawn。　The　sky　may　be　full　of　machines
and　plenty　of　fighting；　but　a　lot　of　that’s　involving　hostiles　that　are　turning　back　for　home；　fuel　out；
or　coming　back　from　target　if　they　made　it。　This　whole　area　here；　see？”
He　tapped　a　section　east　of　Zophos。　“That’s　all　medium　bombers；　all　going　south。　The　actual
wave　has　broken。”
“The　first　wave；”　Jagdea　said。　“A　mass　onslaught　like　this　is　all　or　nothing。　They’ll　be　coming
again　as　soon　as　they’ve　rearmed　and　refuelled。”
Viltry　nodded。　“Of　course。　I　have　a　feeling　they’re　going　to　keep　this　up　until　they’ve　crushed
us。　The　Archenemy　is　many　things。　Subtle　is　not　on　the　list。”
“Very　true；”　said　Jagdea。　“We　go　up　as　soon　as　we　can。　Hunt　stragglers；　and　steal　some　altitude
before　the　second　mass　comes　in。”
“I’ll　see　if　Racklae　can　scare　up　some　rockets；”　Viltry　said。
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“You’ll　be　lucky；”　Jagdea　laughed。
“But　with　rockets；　we　could　seek　out　a　mass…carrier　and　have　a　go。　I　don’t　care　how　many　bats
they’ve　got；　they　can’t　refit　and　refuel　without　a　carrier。”
“Yes；”　said　Jagdea。　She　looked　up　at　the　log　board　that　the　fitters　were　keeping。　Times　of
launch；　times　home；　damage；　work　done。　Ranfre’s　log　line　was　ominously　blank。
“Ranfre？”　Viltry　asked；　guessing　what　she　was　thinking。
She　nodded。　“Hasn’t　been　seen　since　about　six…thirty。　Even　flying　to　conserve　fuel；　there’s　no
way　he’s　still　in　the　air。”
“Maybe　he　put　down　at　another　base？”　said　Viltry。　“Or…　ejected…　or…”
She　appreciated　Viltry　was　trying。　She　picked　up　a　stylus　and　wrote　“Missing”　next　to　Ranfre’s
name。
“It’s　something　I’ve　been　thinking　about　a　lot　in　the　last　few　days；”　Viltry　said　quietly。　“You
know…　death；　I　mean。”
“You　and　everyone　else；”　said　Jagdea。
He　shook　his　head。　“No；　in　particular。　As　far　as　the　Imperium　is　concerned；　Oskar　Viltry　is　dead。
I’m　just　a…　a　scrap　of　paper；　a　pending　number　to　be　assigned。”
“So？”
“Will　you　promise　me　something；　Bree？”
“Yes；”　she　said　immediately。
“You　haven’t　heard　what　it　is　yet。　I’m　here；　at　your　side；　proud　to　be　a　member　of　Umbra。　And
that’s　how　it’ll　be　until　the　end。”
“I　know；”　she　said。　Few　men　were　as　loyal　and　committed　as　Oskar　Viltry。
“But　when　this　is　done。　When　we　win　this　fight。　I　don’t　mean　today；　I　mean　however　long　it
takes…　will　you　forget　you　ever　saw　me？”
“What　are　you　talking　about？”　she　laughed。　Then　she　saw　in　his　eyes　he　was　entirely　serious。
Viltry　took　the　paper　registration　docket　the　Munitorum　had　given　him　out　of　his　pocket　and
smoothed　it　flat。
“Forget　you　ever　knew　that　Oskar　Viltry　came　back　from　the　desert　and　flew　with　you。　List　this
pending　number　as　missing　in　action。　Let　me　disappear　here；　on　Enothis；　when　the　fighting’s　done。”
She　blinked。　“Is　that　what　you　want；　Viltry？”
“Yes。　Not　just　me。　There’s　someone…”　he　paused。　“There　will　be　lives　to　rebuild　here；　after　the
war。”
She　thought　about　it　for　a　moment；　then　picked　up　the　paper。
“I　promise；”　she　said。
Out　in　the　hangar；　as　the　fitters　worked　feverishly；　Darrow　sat　in　silence；　his　back　against　the
wall。　His　hands　were　no　longer　shaking。　They　were　completely　steady。　What　was　shaking　now　was
inside　him；　some　deep　core　part　that　had　been　rocked　and　rattled　and　squeezed　and　slammed　and
wrenched。　In　one　morning。　No　clear　image　remained　to　him　of　the　day’s　fighting。　Just　a　blur。　A
smell　of　fuel　and　fyceline。　A　sound　of　thunder。
Nearby；　he　heard　some　of　the　ground　crew　cheering　as　they　added　a　third　stripe　to　Marquall’s
plane。　Marquall　looked　triumphant。　Even　in　the　short　time　he’d　known　him；　Darrow　had　been　able
to　tell　that　Marquall　was　desperate　for　glory。
Darrow　thought　for　a　moment；　and　realised；　to　his　shame；　that　he　couldn’t　precisely　remember
how　many　kills　he’d　got　himself。　He　tried　to　picture　them　all。　The　fluke　the　day　before；　then　the
bombers…
He　realised　that　his　tally　was　now　five。　He　was　an　ace。
Darrow　decided　not　to　tell　Marquall。
Buzzers　sounded。　Blansher’s　element　came　in　at　last；　shrieking　down　through　the　north　entry。
Darrow　leapt　up。　He　saw　immediately　how　damaged　the　snout　of　Scalter’s　plane　was。
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Scalter　himself　seemed　all　right；　but　dazed。　Jagdea　ran　out　to　inspect　the　damage。
“Las　systems　completely　shot；”　said　the　lead　fitter。　“It　will　take　hours　to　mount　in　a　new　system。
We　can　replace　the　plating　quick　enough；　but　if　you　want　him　up　again；　he’ll　have　to　make　do　with
quads。”
“Then　he’ll　have　to　make　do；”　Jagdea　said。　She　glanced　round　as　Blansher；　Van　Tull　and
Zemmic　plodded　across　from　their　machines。
She　froze。　In　her　concern　for　Scalter　and　his　bird　she’d　missed　the　obvious。
“Where’s　Cordiale？”　she　asked。
Milan　Blansher　shook　his　head。
Over　the　Sea　of　Ezra；　13。16
The　second　wave　rolled　in　an　hour　after　noon。　Though　the　day　was　bright；　the　pollution　of　the
morning’s　combat　had　now　stained　the　sky　with　a　strange；　yellowish　opacity。　Volcanic　columns　of
smoke　rose　from　Theda；　Ezraville　and　Limbus；　visible　for　hundreds　of　kilometres。
Umbra　was　already　up。　So　were　all　the　other　wings　from　Lucerna；　Viper　Atoll　and　the　other
Midwinter　bases。　The　techmages　had　blessed　their　craft　and　sent　them　on　their　way。
Umbra　climbed　high；　to　about　fifteen　thousand；　and　formed　two　packs。　Jagdea；　with　Viltry；
Darrow；　Del　Rum　and　Marquall；　and　Blansher　leading　Scalter；　Kaminsky；　Zemmic　and　Van　Tull。
Once　again；　the　ominous　track　on　the　auspex　showed　the　ride　of　Archenemy　airpower　rolling　north。
Jagdea　had　heard　a　flight　controller　estimate　that　at　the　peak　of　the　morning’s　activity；　the　Imperial
planes　had　been　outnumbered　eleven　to　one。　She　wondered　how　the　kill　rates　had　compared。
Reserves　had　been　added。　Commonwealth　units　were　mobilised　now　after　the　morning’s
surprise；　and　had　their　machines—mostly　pulse…jets　and　reciprocating…engine　birds—standing　ready
in　fields　along　the　northern　coast；　a　last　ditch　defence。　Those　old　craft　wouldn’t　stand　a　chance
against　the　Archenemy’s　vector　planes；　Jagdea　knew。　The　point　was；　if　the　enemy　wave　reached　the
north　coast　in　any　numbers；　nothing　mattered　any　more　anyway。
That　morning；　despite　terrible　losses；　the　Navy　wings　had　denied　the　bulk　of　the　enemy　wave。
The　north　coast　had　been　hit；　but　not　with　the　full　fury　the　onslaught　had　threatened。
Now　it　was　round　two。
Tactics　had　changed。　Now　spearhead　groups　of　fighters　were　storming　ahead　of　the　bomber
strings　to　disrupt　the　Navy　interceptors　and　prevent　them　from　flushing　the　bombers。
Jagdea　saw　condensation　nails　crawling　out。　The　bats　were　clocking　in　at　maximum　thrust；
lashing　forward　to　meet　the　Imperial　line。
Air　flashes　lit　up　to　east　and　west。　The　first　contacts　had　been　made。　Operations　traffic　suddenly
became　frenetic。
Umbra’s　scopes　showed　a　fighter　group；　nearly　thirty　strong；　coming　in　at　twelve　thousand。
“They’re　moving　bloody　fast；”　muttered　Zemmic。
“Let’s　slow　them　down；”　said　Jagdea。
In　the　paired　packs；　Umbra　stooped；　and　began　to　fire　as　soon　as　the　racing　bats　were　in　range。
They　were　a　squadron　of　Locusts；　some　maroon；　some　yellow；　some　gold；　and　they　broke　upwards
into　Umbra’s　attack。
Viltry　killed　a　bat　head　on；　but　Jagdea　picked　up　two　that　refused　to　let　her　go。　Darrow　and　Del
Ruth　almost　converged；　and　managed　to　smack　las　shots　into　the　same　hostile；　chopping　it　into
fragments。　Marquall　avoided　getting　his　tail　shot　off　in　the　first　pass；　then　climbed　hard　again　to
help　Jagdea。
The　two　maroon　Locusts　had　locked　down　on　her　despite　her　violent　slips　and　turns。　Any　tighter
and　she　risked　a　high…speed　stall。
“Can’t　shake　them！”　Jagdea　snarled；　gripped　tight　against　the　lousy　G。
“Umbra　Leader！　Speed　brakes　and　drop　out！”　Marquall　yelled　as　he　came　howling　in。
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Vision　closing　into　a　grey　tunnel；　Jagdea　deployed　the　speed　brakes　into　the　slipstream　and
slammed　violently　back　out　under　the　still…turning　Locusts。　Immediately；　she　started　to　recover　with
vector　thrust。　Marquall　came　in　over　her　guns　firing　and　the　Locusts　swung　out　of　his　way　with
some　haste。　One　darted　up　out　of　sight；　but　the　other　went　into　a　dive　and　Marquall　committed　after
it。
The　pilots　in　Blansher’s　half　of　the　flight　all　made　kills　within　twenty　seconds；　though　Van　Tull
was　himself　hit　and　took　wing　damage。
“You　okay；　Three？”　Blansher　called。
“Four…A；”　came　the　expected　response。
Blansher　could　hear　Kaminsky　distinctly　over　the　link。　“Fire。　Fire。　Fire。　Switch。　Fire。”
As　he　came　up；　mushing　off　speed；　Blansher　looked　up　and　saw　Kaminsky’s　plane　flick…roll；
quads　firing；　and　make　his　second　kill　of　the　sortie。
The　remaining　bats　retreated。　Marquall　came　back　up　from　his　chase　empty…handed。　Umbra
reformed；　and　immediately　sighted　the　front　edge　of　the　bomber　wave；　low　and　south　of　them。　They
scoped　more　fighter　escorts。　They　began　their　attack　run　anyway。
Over　the　Sea　of　Ezra；　14。02
The　batteries　of　the　mass　formation　opened　up　as　the　fighters　stooped　in　amongst　them。　In　the　flat；
yellow　light；　the　bombers　looked　like　a　mezzotint　image。　Four　Thunderbolt　wings　were　now
attacking　this　gigantic　string；　and　two　more　were　duelling　with　its　Razor　escorts。
Viltry’s　anti…bomber　expertise　earned　him　two　stings　straight　off　and　Jagdea　followed　his
example；　damaging　a　heavy　raider　that　Del　Ruth　polished　off　in　her　wake。　Darrow　found　a
Tormentor　and　blew　away　part　of　its　engine　assembly。　It　hung　in　the　air　for　a　second；　then　pitched
away　as　if　it　had　fainted。
Del　Ruth　did　a　split…S　then　swooped　onto　a　super…heavy　that　was　dark　red；　like　carrion。　Chains
fluttered　out　behind　the　huge　machine　and　Del　Ruth　realised　they　were　strung　with　human　skulls。
She　banked　in；　not　even　waiting　for　the　sights　to　lock。　It　would　have　been　difficult　to　miss。　She　put
eight　pulses　of　lasfire　into　the　swollen　flank　and；　as　she　pulled　away；　saw　the　aluminoid　skin　shred
and　burst　as　fuel…air　explosions　blew　it　apart　from　within。
Even　as　the　giant　craft　died　and　burned；　its　turrets　kept　firing。　Del　Ruth　felt　her　bird　shudder　as
something　hit　the　underside　of　her　nose　with　huge　force；　tearing　the　stick　out　of　her　hands　for　a
moment　and　knocking　the　plane’s　attitude　through　twenty　degrees。
She　recovered　control。
“Six；　are　you　okay？”
“Yes；　Leader；”　Del　Ruth　responded。　She　checked　her　instruments　and　saw　two　warning　lights　lit；
indicating　damage　to　the　starboard　autoloaders。　“Hit；　but　not　critical。”
Kaminsky　and　Zemmic　had　both　taken　out　bombers　on　the　first　pass；　but　Blansher；　Scalter　and
Van　Tull　were　intercepted　by　the　Razor　escort　before　they　could　do　any　harm。　Van　Tull　had　to　fly　an
almost　complete　figure　of　eight　before　he　shook　a　purple　Razor；　then　almost　immediately　got　the
drop　on　another；　chequered　black　and　white；　that　had　lined　up　on　Scalter。　As　the　chequered　hostile
vaporised；　Scalter　peeled　away　towards　a　heavy　bomber；　firing　on　it　from　its　seven。
The　purple　Razor　that　Van　Tull　had　shaken　reappeared；　swooping　steeply　and　opening　fire　on
Scalter’s　machine。　Bolt　rounds　sliced　down　into　the　starboard　engine；　the　midsection；　and　the　tail；
shredding　part　of　the　rudder。　The　impacts　destroyed　Scalter’s　auspex；　ruptured　his　coolant　system
and　crazed　the　side　screens　of　his　canopy　white。
“Umbra　Seven！　Umbra　Seven！”　Van　Tull　yelled。
Dazed；　Scalter　heard　the　voice　and　looked　around。　The　air　of　his　cockpit　was　full　of　blue　smoke。
He　stared　at　the　shattered　instruments。　The　few　panels　still　functioning　were　a　mass　of　warning
lights。　Overheat；　leak；　pressure　loss；　power　failure…
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“Scalter；　can　you　hear　me？”
Scalter　looked　down　and　let　out　a　sob。　At　least　one　of　the　rounds　had　gone　clean　through　his
lower　torso。　He　couldn’t　believe　the　bloody　mess　was　anything　to　do　with　him。　He　couldn’t　feel　his
legs。　He　couldn’t　feel　anything　much　at　all。
“Scalter！”
“Four…A…”　he　whispered。　“Taken　a　little　damage。”
“Seven；　if　you’re　not　flyable；　eject　for　Throne’s　sake！”
With　effort；　Scalter　touched　the　stick。　It　was　dead；　slack；　all　control　gone。　His　ruined　machine
was　just　flying　straight。　He　looked　down　again。　There　was　no　way　he　could　eject。　No　point；　either。
He　looked　up。　The　heavy　bomber　he’d　been　targeting　was　still　ahead；　cruising　on。
Scalter　put　his　hand　on　the　throttle。　“For　Enothis　and　the　Emperor；”　he　murmured　and　pushed
the　throttle　open。
Umbra　Seven　accelerated　in　a　straight；　unswerving　line　and　hit　the　heavy　bomber　in　the　port
ribs。　A　huge　halo　of　flames　engulfed　them　both。
“Seven’s　gone！　Scalter’s　gone！”　Marquall　could　hear　Van　Tull　yelling。　Negative　G　was
preventing　him　from　replying。　He　was　cranking　round　in　a　murderous　loop　with　a　mauve　Razor　on
his　back。　He　felt　hits　skinning　off　his　armour。　He　banked　hard—a　bone…shaking　shudder—and
managed　to　force　the　Razor　to　fly　past　under　him。　Now　he　was　behind　it。　It　would　break　at　any
second；　Marquall　knew。　But　which　way？
Which　way　would　you　go？　Jagdea　had　always　told　them。　Marquall　went　right；　and　the　Razor　did
just　that　in　the　same　instant。　Target　lock。
Marquall　was　screaming　as　he　fired。　He　knew　it　was　a　kill　before　Double　Eagle　had　even　started
firing。　The　mauve　Hell　Razor　started　to　spin；　then　spiralled　away　like　a　leaf。
Marquall　hoped　someone　had　seen　that。　He　dearly　hoped　that　someone—
“Umbra　Six！　Umbra　Six！　Status？”　Jagdea　started　shouting　over　the　vox。
There　was　no　obvious　hostile　on　her；　but　Del　Ruth’s　Thunderbolt　looked　like　it　was　taking　hits
to　the　nose。　Explosive　crackles　rocked　her　airframe　and　plating　blew　out。
“I　don’t　know—”　she　began。　It　was　the　hit　she’d　taken　in　the　autoloaders　just　minutes　before。
Overheated　damage　or　a　late　detonating　round　wedged　into　the　mechanism　had　explosively　cooked
off　the　drums　of　ammunition。　The　rippling　blasts　were　her　own　shells　exploding　in　the　caissons。　In
horror；　Jagdea　saw　several　detonate　up　through　the　main　hull；　blowing　out　both　sets　of　engine　pipes；
and　another　flurry　wrecked　her　radiator。
Mortally　wounded；　the　Thunderbolt　began　to　dive。
“Aggie！　Pull　out！　Pull　out！”　Jagdea　yelled。
“I　can’t！　Negative！　Dead　stick！”　Del　Ruth　screamed　back。
“Eject；　Aggie！　For　Throne’s　sake；　eject！”
The　machine　plunged　away。　Jagdea　saw　a　flash　of　glitter　and　a　shape　in　the　air。　Far　below　her；　a
chute　opened；　a　tiny　dot　against　the　tungsten　sea。
Lucerna　AB；　15。20
As　they　refuelled　and　reloaded；　no　one　spoke　much。　Fatigue　and　nerves　had　almost　wrung　them　out；
but　the　losses　made　it　much　worse。　Their　hearts　ached　as　much　as　their　joints。　For　most　of　the　pilots；
circulation　and　balance　were　seriously　impaired。　Just　walking　around　the　hangar　was　difficult。
Just　before　16。00；　as　they　were　preparing　to　launch；　Operations　reported　that　the　second　wave
had　broken　short　of　Zophos。　Fought　to　a　near…standstill　after　four　hours；　the　Archenemy　formations
had　turned　back。
If　a　third　wave　was　intended；　they’d　see　it　within　the　next　five　hours。
“Third　time　lucky；”　said　Zemmic。
“Who　for？”　asked　Kaminsky。
190
Over　the　Midwinters；　18。23
They　came　back　early。　As　if　hungry；　somehow　sensing　that　they　had　their　enemy　on　the　ropes。　Or
desperate。　That’s　what　Jagdea　told　herself。
The　third　wave　came　out　over　the　coast　in　the　early　and　unnatural　dusk；　seemingly　just　as
immense　as　before。　How　could　they　have　shot　down　so　many　of　the　bastards　and　there　be　so　little
sign　of　a　thinning　in　their　ranks？
The　remaining　eight　machines　of　Umbra　Flight　climbed　with　four　other　Thunderbolt　squadrons
to　nine　thousand；　and　circled　in　over　the　archipelago　as　the　enemy　formations　approached。　The　other
bases　had　put　up　their　wings。
The　line　was　drawn。
Combat　began　at　18。45。　Another　new　tactic　was　immediately　revealed。　Frustrated　by　the　Navy’s
staunch　resistance；　the　Archenemy　had　committed　the　front　elements　of　its　bomber　waves　low；　to
pattern　bomb　the　islands　in　the　hope　of　annihilating　the　hidden　bases　there。　From　its　overall　heading；
this　arm　of　the　wave　was　intending　to　cross　the　Straits　of　Jabez　and　target　Tamuda　once　the　islands
were　done。　The　radiant　ripples　of　furious　detonations　began　to　light　up　the　southern　part　of　the
island　chain。
The　Imperial　planes　went　in　amongst　the　bombers；　cutting　them　out　of　the　air　even　as　they
dropped　their　warloads。
“I　don’t　see　fighters；”　Marquall　called。
“There’ll　be　fighters；”　Blansher　said。
Darrow　made　his　eighth　kill　of　the　day；　the