Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第19部分

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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。
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“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　pict　display　and　hololithic　repeater。
All　the　pers