Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第9部分

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of　all　the　other　machines。　The　bats　had　swept　out　wide　and　come　in　from　the　rear　for　their　second
pass。
“Tail　gunner　engaging！”　Orsone　screamed　over　the　vox；　and　Viltry　felt　the　shudder　of　the　tailmount
unloading。　A　moment　later　and　the　top　turret；　now　screwed　over　to　face　the　rear；　joined　in。
The　twin　heavy　discharge　did　slight　but　strange　things　to　Greta’s　ride；　and　Viltry　compensated
expertly。　Then　the　bats　rushed　by　them。　The　tail　guns　ceased　fire；　the　targets　having　crossed　beyond
their　traverse　limit；　but　the　top　turret　continued　blazing　as　it　rotated；　following　the　pass。　As　the　rear
ends　of　the　Hell　Razors；　bright　with　full　burn；　swept　ahead　and　away　from　them；　the　nose　turret
joined　in　too。
“Cease！　Cease　fire！”　Viltry　cried　out。　The　bats　were　at　three　kilometres　now　and　extending；
pulling　out　of　reasonable　range。　He　could　still　just　see　their　engine　flares　as　they　broke；　scattering
into　a　fan。
Damn；　Viltry　thought。　Now　they’ll　be　making　individual　passes。
There　was　a　screech　over　the　vox。　Viltry　looked　around　desperately；　and　saw　one　of　the　Navy
Marauders　in　the　adjacent　diamond　begin　to　fall　out　of　formation。　It　seemed　as　if　its　engines　could
no　longer　hold　its　weight　in　the　air。　A　gout　of　black　smoke　coughed　from　one　engine；　then　flames
took　fierce　hold　of　the　entire　leading　edge　of　the　port　wing。　The　bats　had　scored　on　their　second
pass。
Trailing　flame；　the　Marauder　began　to　steepen　in　its　descent。
“Eject！　Eject！”　he　heard　Egsor　yelling　to　the　distant　crew。
The　dipping　Marauder　suddenly　shuddered　and　blew　up。　Its　bomb　load　made　a　vast　fire　cloud　in
the　clear　sky；　jetting　debris　out　in　a　whirl　of　scrap。　The　main　part　of　the　nose；　burning　like　a　comet；
arced　away　down　towards　the　desert。
“Here　they　come！”　Naxol　cried。　At　least　the　nose　gunner　had　shown　the　good　sense　to　keep
scanning；　instead　of　watching　the　Marauder　die。
Three　Hell　Razors　were　coming　in　on　a　frontal　attack。　Their　weapons　crackled　and　flashed
brilliantly。　Naxol　and　Gaize　opened　up　on　the　nearest　as　it　came　in　across　them。　Naxoi’s　meaty
lasfire　chopped　the　air　behind　it；　but　Gaize　had　held　a　fine　deflection。　The　bat　as　good　as　flew　into
his　bolter　stream。　It　came　apart　in　a　drizzle　of　metal　shards　and　flame；　its　fore…wings　separating　and
spinning　out　like　broken　plate…glass。　Whipping　over　and　under　as　it　tumbled　away；　the　starboard
wing　nearly　hit　Greta’s　tail。
Viltry　sucked　in　his　breath　at　the　near　miss。　“Good　one；　Gaize；”　he　voxed。
Get　Them　All　Back　and　one　of　the　Navy　machines　had　also　scored　good　hits。　A　Hell　Razor　went
into　an　uncontrolled　spin　and　fell　out　of　the　sky；　and　another　pulled　a　wobbly　turn　out　and　began　to
limp　away　west；　making　smoke。
But　it　wasn’t　over　yet。　Another　Navy　Marauder　had　been　hit　and　had　fallen　out　of　formation；
unable　to　keep　up。　And　K　for　Killshot　had　taken　vector　duct　damage。　The　bats　were　coming　in　again；
and　the　auspex　showed　that　another　wave　had　now　joined　them。　Over　in　the　western　sky；　Viltry　saw
a　starburst　flash　as　a　Thunderbolt　detonated。
His　hands　were　shaking　again。　Fate’s　wheel。　Fate’s　wheel。
Turning　closer　every　moment。
Theda　MAB　North；　12。01
Noisy；　chattering；　the　streams　of　Commonwealth　personnel　flooded　out　of　the　station　towards　the
waiting　transports。　All　of　them　carried　kitbags；　or　hefted　crates　in　teams。　They　joked　in　the　sunny
air；　throwing　wisecracks　and　jibes　around。
It　was　a　mask；　a　front。　Bravado。　Darrow　knew　that。　In　a　few　hours；　these　men　would　be　on　their
way　to　rear…line　postings　down　the　coast；　possibly　across　the　sea。　Friendships　would　be　broken；
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comrades　parted　from　one　another。　Out　on　the　concourse；　hundreds　of　silent　Navy　men　waited
around　the　transports　that　had　just　brought　them　in；　ready　to　move　in　and　take　over　as　soon　as　the
Commonwealth　bodies　were　gone。　Darrow　glanced　at　them。　Some　smoked；　others　basked　in　the　sun；
stretched　out　on　the　rockcrete。　Many　stared；　flat；　unfriendly　stares。　If　you’d　done　this　properly；　you
know…　really　fought　for　your　world　properly；　we　wouldn’t　have　to　be　here。
That’s　why　Darrow’s　fellow　staffers　and　crew　were　laughing　and　joking。　They　didn’t　want　to
have　to　look　at　the　Imperials；　hovering　like　vultures　over　a　corpse。
Darrow　felt　like　dropping　his　own　kitbag　and　returning　the　stares。　Supercilious　bastards！　You
think　we　wanted　this？　You　think　we’re　grateful　you　show　up　now？　Go　screw　yourselves。　We　fought
for　Enothis；　we　bled；　we　died。　Thanks　to　us；　it’s　still　here　to　fight　for。　We　did　the　hard　work；　now　you
sweep　in　to　get　the　glory。　And　so　help　me；　you　had　better　get　the　glory。　You　had　better　win；　or…
or…
“Darrow！　Darrow！”
He　turned。　Major　Heckel　had　appeared　on　the　station　steps；　waving　at　him。　He　made　his　way
back　through　the　mass　of　personnel　to　reach　him。
“Congratulations；　sir；”　he　said。
“What？”
“I　saw　you’d　been　posted　to　Quarry　Flight。”
A　muscle　under　Heckel’s　left　eye　ticked　slightly。　“Yes。　Ah；　yes。　Lucky　me。　They’ve　got　to　keep
us　old　hands　going；　I　suppose。”
Heckel　made　a　high…pitched　little　laugh；　a　false　sound。　His　eye　ticked　again。
“You　wanted　me；　sir？”
“Oh；　yes；”　said　Heckel。　He　reached　into　the　pocket　of　his　flight　coat　and　produced　a　docket
wafer。　It　was　sealed。　Darrow’s　name　was　printed　on　the　flap。　Darrow　noticed　how　badly　Heckel’s
hand　was　quaking　as　he　passed　it　to　him。　“This　is　for　you。”
Darrow　tore　open　the　wafer。
“Eads　had　it　sent　down。　I　think　he　was　feeling　sorry　for　you。　It’s　not　active　as　such；　but　he　says
he　hopes　it　will　do。”
“He’s…　he’s　posting　me　to　Operations。　Effective　immediate。”　Darrow　grinned。　Heckel　was
right；　it　wasn’t　active；　but　it　would　mean　he’d　stay　at　Theda；　and　be　part　of　the　real　thing。
“Thanks；”　he　said。
“Just　the　messenger；”　shrugged　Heckel。
“You　put　in　a　good　word；　I’m　sure。”
Heckel　shrugged　again；　but　he　was　grinning　this　time。　Then　his　expression　grew　serious。　“Just
between　you　and　me；　Darrow。　The　enemy　got　airspace　reach　into　the　Lida　Valley　yesterday。　The
schedule’s　really　moved　up。　The　Navy’s　decided　it　needs　local　experts　who　are　familiar　with　the
topography　to　guide　them；　so　they　asked　Eads　to　consult　at　Operations。　He　told　me　he　wanted　a　few
good　bodies　to　assist　him。　I　suggested　you；　and　a　couple　of　others　who’d　been　moved　to　reserve。”
“Thank　you；　sir。　I　really　appreciate　it。”
Heckel　nodded。　“Just　do　a　good　job；　Darrow。”
Darrow　put　down　his　pack　and　saluted　his　former　leader。
“Darrow；”　Heckel　said。　His　face　had　a　strange；　wistful　look。　“Darrow；　do　you　think　they　know
I’m　sorry？”
“Who；　sir？”
“The　cadets。　Hunt　Flight。　Emperor　save　us；　so　many　of　them　died。”
“You　did　everything　you　could；　sir。”
Heckel　breathed　deeply。　“You　know；　Darrow？　That’s　just　what　I’m　afraid　of。”
Heckel　picked　up　his　pack；　patted　Darrow　on　the　arm；　and　hurried　away　towards　the　transports。
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Theda　MAB　South；　15。34
“She’s　jinxed；　isn’t　she？”　Milan　Blansher　said。
“Who’s　that；　sir？”　asked　Hemmen；　the　chief　fitter。　In　the　shadow　of　the　great　hangar；　his　team
was　working　on　the　refit　of　Espere’s　Thunderbolt。　The　air　was　popping　with　the　rattle　of　power
ratchets。
“Her；”　Jagdea　said；　pointing　at　the　wounded　machine。
“Serial　Nine…Nine？”　Hemmen　shook　his　head。　“I　couldn’t　possibly　comment；　mamzel
commander。”
Jagdea　shook　her　head　and　led　Blansher　out　of　the　bam。　The　field　was　clear　apart　from　Umbra
Flight’s　birds；　and　a　thundering　pack　of　Commonwealth　Interceptors　taxiing　for　take…off。
“Espere？”　Blansher　asked。
“Forget　it。　He’ll　be　out　for　months。　And　even　with　augmetics；　he’s　a　wreck。”
“So　we’re　a　man　down？”
“Yes。　I　asked　Navy　reserve；　but　they　said　every　able　pilot　was　committed。　Unless　there’s
suddenly　a　bird　down　and　a　pilot　recovered；　or　a　bird　malfunctioned。　God…Emperor；　Mil；　this
warfront’s　stretched　really　thin。　Every　man；　every　plane；　thrown　in。　I　think　this　could　be　the　big
one。”
“What　do　you　mean？”
“The　decider。　The　Archenemy’s　got　the　Crusade　trapped；　over…extended。　They’re　attacking　here
and　at　Herodor。　That’s　the　latest　news。　Either　planet　falls；　and　the　Crusade　line　gets　beheaded。　Snip；
good　night。　Goodnight　Warmaster　Macaroth。　Goodnight　us；　and　goodnight　Crusade。　If　our　line
breaks　here；　they’ll　be　all　over　us　like　a　bodybag。”
“We’d　better　fly　our　balls　off　then；”　Blansher　said。
She　smiled。　“Speak　for　yourself。”
“How’s　Marquall？”
She　shrugged。　“Still　trying　to　heave　the　soles　of　his　feet　out　through　his　mouth　in　the　shower
block。　I　thought　about　slipping　him　some　detox　tabs；　but　then　I　had　a　bad　attack　of　what　the　hell。　A
crippling　hangover　is　the　Emperor’s　way　of　making　us　remember　our　mistakes。”
“He　blames　himself　for　Espere？”
“Yes；　he　does。”
“Should　he？”　Blansher　asked。
Jagdea　shrugged。　Her　reply　was　totally　drowned　out　by　the　squadron　of　prop　planes　taking　to　the
air。　“Say　again？”　said　Blansher。
“Marquall　screwed　up。　He　flew　like　a　virgin　and　made　just　about　every　mistake　going。　Espere
was　covering　him。　So；　yes…　he　should。　But　he’s　also　a　decent　pilot。　I　know　that。　We　need　him；　and
we　need　him　back；　confident；　learning　from　his　mistakes。”
“I　still　don’t　know　how　you　trawled　him　in；”　Blansher　said。
“Doesn’t　matter。　I　had　help。　Not　the　sort　of　help　I　wanted；　but…　Well；　it　worked。”
Blansher　shrugged。
“I’ll　tell　you　one　day；”　Jagdea　smiled。
“I’m　up　at　18。30；　I　believe；”　Blansher　said。
“And　Larice　is　taking　a　unit　four　out　at　21。40。　I’ll　stand　doentis。”
“Good　flying；”　he　said；　and　jogged　away　to　check　on　his　machine。
I　wish　people　would　stop　saying　that；　Jagdea　thought。
Palace　Pier；　15。50
Night　had　arrived　early　and　a　wan　darkness　had　settled　over　the　sea。　It　looked　as　if　a　storm　was
brewing。　Afternoon　trade　had　been　bad　all　week；　and　now　with　a　gloomy　pall　spreading　in　the　west；
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it　had　dried　up　altogether。　Beqa　sent　Latrice　home；　and　closed　up　early。　It　would　make　a　change。　A
few　extra　hours’　sleep。
She　was　locking　the　cafe　door　when　the　man　appeared。　There　was　a　brisk　wind　coming　off　the
foreshore；　tugging　at　her　coat　and　buffeting　her；　so　she　hadn’t　heard　him　walk　up。
“Oh！”　she　exclaimed；　jumping。　It　was　the　sad…faced　pilot　who’d　never　tasted　shellfish。　He　was
huddled　in　a　heavy　leather　coat。
“Are　you　closed？”　he　asked。
“Ah；　yes；”　she　said；　brushing　wind…tugged　hair　out　of　her　eyes。　“Sorry。　There　was　no　one　around
this　afternoon。　Didn’t　like　the　look　of　the　weather；　I　suppose。”
He　glanced　up　at　the　sky；　as　if　he　hadn’t　really　noticed。　The　first　few　spats　of　rain　were　falling。
“I　understand；”　he　said。　“I　got　a　decent　walk　at　least。　Good　afternoon；　mamzel。”
“Wait；”　she　called　after　him。　Beqa　shook　her　head　at　herself。　She　was　too　soft　for　her　own　good。
“You’re　hungry；　aren’t　you？”
“A　little；”　he　admitted。
She　unlocked　the　door。　“Come　on。　I’ll　make　you　something。”
“But　you’re　closed。”
“I　can　open　again。”
She　had　him　sit　at　the　table　he’d　chosen　the　day　before　while　she　went　behind　the　counter；
turned　on　the　water　heater　and　started　looking　through　the　pantry　bins。　Viltry　noticed　she　didn’t
change　the　card　in　the　window。　The　cafe　was　still　shut　to　others。
“This　is　very　kind　of　you；”　he　called。
“It’s　no　problem。　You　don’t　like　fish；　do　you？”
“I　don’t　really　know。”
“You’re　in　luck。　We　have　some　salt…ham　today。”
The　storm　closed　in；　turning　the　sky　as　dark　as　twilight。　Beqa　turned　on　the　cafe’s　oil…lamps。
Rain　began　to　patter　and　drum　against　the　windows　and　the　skylights；　running　down　them　in　torrents
so　they　seemed　to　be　melting。　The　whole　pier　creaked　gently　as　the　sea　stirred　around　it。
She’d　never　been　out　at　the　pier…end　during　a　storm　before。　It　felt　unnerving；　and　half　of　her
wished　she’d　simply　been　firm　with　him　and　gone　home。　The　whole　place　felt　exposed　and
vulnerable；　alone　amid　the　turbulent　elements。　It　was　like　riding　aboard　some　fragile　craft　though　a
maelstrom。
He　didn’t　seem　the　slightest　bit　bothered。
When　she　brought　his　food　and　drink；　she　sat　down　with　him。
“You’re　an　aviator；　sir？”
“Yes。”　He　took　a　bite。　“This　is　really　very　good。　I　don’t　think　I’d　realised　how　hungry　I　was。”
“Imperial　Navy？”　she　asked。
He　shook　his　head　and　wiped　his　lips　with　a　napkin。　“Sort　of；　I　suppose。　Imperial　Phantine　Air
Corps。　My　name’s　Viltry。　Oskar　Viltry。”
“Beqa　Mayer。”　He　held　out　his　hand　and　shook　hers　courteously。
“Thank　you　for　your　hospitality；　mamzel。　And　act　of　kindness　towards　a　stranger　to　your　world。”
“Seeing　as　you’ve　come　here　to　risk　your　life　fighting　for　my　world；　I　think　a　plate　of　ham　and
bread　is　the　least　I　can　do。”
He　stopped　eating　suddenly　and　frowned。　“I…　I　know　you　from　somewhere；　don’t　I？”
“I　was　here　yesterday。”
“No；　somewhere　else。”
“The　templum；　early　the　other　day。　You　held　the　door　for　me。”
“Yes；　that’s　it。”　An　especially　fierce　gust　of　wind　rattled　the　windows　and　threw　the　rain　against
the　glass　with　renewed　vigour。
54
“I　suppose　this　place　will　stand　up　to　a　storm？”　Viltry　asked。
“I　think　it’d　take　a　lot　to　bring　the　palace　down；”　she　replied。
It　was　another　hour　before　the　storm　abated　enough　for　them　to　want　to　risk　a　dash　back　towards
the　town。　Refilling　his　cup；　she　chatted　idly；　to　no　real　point；　as　if　simply　letting　go　of　conversation
that　loneliness　had　dammed　up　inside　her。　Viltry　was　content　just　to　listen。　His　day　had　been
terrible：　the　savage　air…brawl；　the　panic　and　fear。　The　bats　had　locked　them　up　so　long；　they’d　finally
been　forced　to　ditch　their　payloads　and　turn　back　on　the　long；　exposed　slog　for　home。　No　target
destroyed。　No　target　even　seen。　Just　a　portion　of　the　Dish　of　Sand　heat…fused　into　glass。　Halo　had
lost　no　one；　but　five　of　its　machines　had　been　damaged；　and　several　crewmen　hurt。　K　for　Killshot
had　been　unable　to　do　more　than　crawl　home。　Part　of　its　pay…load　had　been　hung；　and　Viltry　feared
that　even　if　it　got　back；　it　might　stumble　on　landing　and　be　annihilated　by　its　own　munitions。　But
they’d　made　it。　Three　of　Egsor’s　wing；　and　two　Thunderbolt　escorts；　however；　had　not。
Some　aviators　dealt　with　the　pressure　of　a　combat　tour　by　drinking；　or　hedonistic　escapes；　others
by　sounding　off　about　what　had　happened　to　anybody　in　the　crew　room　who’d　listen。　That　had　never
been　Viltry’s　way。　These　days；　he　was　afraid　that　if　he　started　talking；　he　wouldn’t　be　able　to　stop。
But　listening　to　the　woman　talk　eased　him。　It　was　like　an　antidote　to　the　tension　of　combat。　It
gave　him　a　touch　of　perspective；　reminded　him　the　universe　was　not　simply　him；　harnessed　into　a　Gchair；
waiting　for　Fate’s　wheel　to　turn。　Her　life　was　evidently　hard。　She　was　forced　to　work　two
shifts：　here　during　the　day；　and　overnight　at　the　munitions　manufactory。　She　was　worried　about　the
tide　of　the　war。　Fresh　food　was　getting　harder　to　come　by。　What　if　the　cafe　was　forced　to　close？　She
had　a　brother　called　Eido；　who　was　serving　in　the　land　army。　She’d　not　heard　from　him　for　over
three　months；　since　the　fighting　at　the　gates　of　the　Trinity　Hives。　He’d　be　home　soon；　she　was
convinced。　She　lit　a　candle　for　him　every　day。
“I　light　three：　one　for　Gart；　one　for　Eido　and　one　for　whoever　else　needs　it。”
Viltry　smiled。　“I’ll　remember　that。　Pardon　me；　but　who’s　Gart？”
“My　husband；　Commander　Viltry。　He　was　a　pilot　officer　in　the　Commonwealth　PDF。　He　was
lost　over　the　desert　the　winter　before　last。”
“I’m　sorry；　mamzel。　Is　he　listed　missing？”
She　shook　her　head。　“I　can　assure　myself　my　brother　is　alive；　because　I’ve　not　had　proof
otherwise。　But　Gart　is　dead。”
The　Commonwealth　had　given　her　a　widow’s　pension；　but　that　had　dried　up　when　the　war…effort
took　its　latest　bad　turn。　Hence　the　two　jobs。　The　lack　of　sleep。
Viltry　noticed　that　the　rain　had　eased。　There　was　a　lightness　back　in　the　sky。　She　would　be　late
for　her　shift　if　they　didn’t　take　advantage　of　the　break。
She　locked　the　cafe　doors；　and　they　hurried　down　the　wet　boardwalk　towards　the　town；　where
the　evening　lamps　were　coming　on。
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DAY　255
Theda　MAB　South；　08。00
“I’m　reporting　as　ordered；”　Darrow　told　the　Navy　guardsman　under　the　adamantite　portico。　The
guardsman　looked　at　Darrow’s　docket　wafer　and　nodded　him　through。
From　the　outside；　Operations　could　have　been　mistaken　for　a　Ministorum　chapel　built　in　the
muscular　Early　Ornate　style。　But　the　many　soaring　spires　and　finials　were　copper　and　electrophytesleeved
detector　columns；　the　braced　flying　buttresses　housed　pneumatic　blast　dampers；　and　where
stained　glass　windows　might　have　glowed；　there　were　deep　shutters　of　loricated　steel。　Operations
dominated　the　north　end　of　the　field　area；　surrounded　on　three　sides　by　metal　forests　of　vox　masts；
auspex　towers　and　modar　arrays；　where　the　ground　was　baked　dry　and　the　air　smelled　cancerously
of　ozone　and　electromagnetics。
Inside；　a　vaulted　and　soaring　atrium　lit　by　caged　lumin　strips　led　to　the　various　control　areas。
Men　and　women　in　the　dark　uniforms　of　Navy　and　the　Departmento　Tacticus　bustled　to　and　fro。
Vox　announcements　called　for　detail　rotations。　Darrow　followed　the　enamel　wall　signs；　and　made
his　way　to　a　busy　staircase　that　led　underground。　The　main　part　of　Operations　was　buried　in　deep；
rockcrete　bunkers　below　the　ground。
Down　below　it　was　cool；　and　the　air　was　damp　and　recirculated。　He　shivered　and　wished　he’d
worn　his　flight　coat；　despite　the　hasty　patching　he’d　made　to　the　sleeve。
There　was　a　series　of　blast　doors　and　another　checkpoint；　where　he　had　to　wait　in　line　under　the
eyes　of　three　burly　guardsmen　while　a　Munitorum　servitor　checked　his　papers；　conducted　biometric
tests　and　issued　him　with　a　duty　pass。
To　Darrow’s　surprise；　Eads　was　waiting　for　him　at　the　main　hatch。
“Reporting　for　duty；　sir；”　Darrow　said；　saluting。
“Call　that　a　salute？”　Eads　said。　“Welcome　to　Operations；　Darrow。　Stick　close　by　me　today　as
you　learn　the　ropes。　Don’t　be　afraid　to　ask　questions；　there’s　a　lot　to　know。　If　I　need　you　to　shut　up；
I’ll　tell　you。”
“Yes；　sir。”
Eads　turned　and　used　his　sensor　cane　to　trace　a　path　into　the　chamber。　Darrow　walked　with　him。
“Expect　to　be　referred　to　as　‘junior’；　Darrow。　Even　by　me。　You’re　not　a　pilot　cadet　down　here。
You’re　a　junior　assistant　flight　controller。”
Darrow　was　about　to　ask　a　question；　but　Eads　reached　out　and　squeezed　his　wrist。　They　had　just
entered　the　chamber；　and　a　hush　had　fallen。
Darrow　gazed　around　him。　Central　Operations　was　a　vast　rotunda；　three　floors　deep。　There　were
two　tiers　of　consoles　around　the　walls；　the　upper　one　accessible　by　an　iron　walkway。　These　console
stations　were　manned　by　Navy　operators；　some　of　whom　were　servitors　plugged　directly　into　the
interface　sockets　of　the　displays。　Above　them　was　an　observation　deck　where　senior　officers
gathered　to　look　down　on　proceedings。　In　the　centre　of　the　chamber　was　the　principal　hololithic
display；　which　projected　a　flickering　tactical　animation　six　metres　into　the　air　from　a　wide；　brassedged
base　unit。　Around　that　stood　a　ring　of　semi…opaque　glass　screens　onto　which　the　modar
returns　were　projected。　A　stern…looking　placement　operator　stood　ready　at　each　screen；　with　a　stylus
in　one　hand　and　an　eraser　in　the　other。
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Around　them　lay　a　further　ring　of　primary　control　consoles；　massive　codifier　stations　that
sprouted　from　the　floor　like　standing　stones。　Each　one；　panelled　with　wood；　its　instruments　turned　in
brass；　had　its　own　valve…screen　pi