Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第20部分

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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　personnel　present　currently　stood　or　sat　silently；　heads　slightly　bowed。
A　rector　from　the　Navy　chaplaincy；　imposing　in　his　selpic　blue　robes　and　sable　ruff；　was
intoning　a　rite　of　blessing　upon　the　station。　As　he　spoke；　one　hand　on　his　breast；　the　other　tucked
behind　his　back；　tech…priests　moved　around　the　room；　anointing　the　stations　and　offering　holy　water
from　gold　ampullas　to　those　personnel　in　need　of　personal　benediction。　Darrow　noticed　most
received　it；　even　the　higher　ranking　staffers。
“Let　this　day　be　profitable　and　successful；”　the　rector　said。　“Let　the　strength　of　will　and　the
clarity　of　sight　that　is　the　province　of　the　most　high　and　glorious　Imperator；　he　that　is　the　God…
Emperor　of　all　Mankind；　inform　your　work　this　day。　May　his　glory　be　everlasting；　and　his　beacon　of
enlightenment　shine　to　us　all　in　the　darkness。　For　the　Golden　Throne；　everlasting；　and　in　his　name’s
sake；　let　his　will　be　done。”
The　rector　made　the　sign　of　the　aquila　across　his　breast；　and　everybody　did　the　same。
The　deck　officer　stood；　nodded　to　the　rector；　and　announced；　“Day　shift　begins；　255；　773。M41。”
At　once；　activity　resumed。　A　sudden　wash　of　voices；　of　un…muted　vox　channels。　Deft　hands
chattered　over　metal　keys。　Eads　nodded　at　Darrow　to　follow　him。
As　a　flight　controller；　Eads’s　station　was　one　of　the　primary　control　consoles。　Darrow　helped
him　into　the　high…backed　seat　and　stowed　the　sensor　cane　where　Eads　could　find　it。
“Principal　cortical　plug　and　tech…reader　link；　please；”　Eads　said　as　he　settled　himself。　Darrow
glanced　around；　and　unhooked　the　two　leads　from　a　bracket　on　the　console’s　side。　He　handed　them
to　Eads。　Eads　read　the　raised　identifier　stamps　on　the　plugs　with　the　tips　of　his　fingers；　then　inserted
the　cortical　plug　into　the　dermal　socket　behind　his　left　ear。　The　other　lead；　from　which　withered
parchment　labels　dangled；　went　into　a　second　dermal　socket　under　his　hairline　at　the　base　of　his
skull。　Eads　winced　slightly　as　it　went　in。
The　console　came　to　immediate　life。　The　hololith　display　lit　up　and　began　to　rotate。　The　pict
screen　shimmered　into　life；　showing　a　scrolling　menu　of　tight…beamed　data。　Darrow　knew　that　Eads
was　now　seeing　all　this　for　himself；　in　his　mind。　Eads　began　to　review　the　details。
Darrow　looked　around　again。　Each　of　the　flight　controllers　was　attended　by　at　least　one　junior
aide。　All　of　the　other　controllers　were　sighted；　although　one　had　bulky　augmetic　optics；　but　many
had　enhanced　their　overview　with　cortical　links。
“Vox　mic；　please；”　Eads　said。
Darrow　unhooked　that　too；　played　out　the　flex；　and　helped　Eads　to　fit　it　around　his　ear　so　the
bead　was　in　place　and　the　wire　stalk　set　by　his　lips。
“This　is　Eads；　7513；”　Eads　said　softly。　“I　am　now　on　station。”　He　was　answered　by　a　murmur　of
vox　responses。
His　fingers　began　to　glide　over　the　mechanical　keyboard。　The　data　on　the　screen　altered。　The
cortical　plug　was　simulating　a　version　of　the　console　in　Eads’s　head　so　he　could　operate　it。
“Climate　plot；　please；”　Eads　said　to　the　link。　A　swollen　3D　image　bloomed　across　the　hololith。
“Tactical…　and　quadrant　operations。”　More　changes；　more　overlays。　Hard　yellow　lines　showing
aircraft　tracks；　dotted　red　lines　of　mission　sequences；　winking　green　runes　positioning　the　machines
themselves。
“There’s　a　spare　headset　if　you　want　to　listen；”　Eads　remarked。
Darrow　took　the　opportunity。　What　he　heard　as　he　wired　up　was　a　nonsense　of　human　and
machine　voices；　digital　transmissions；　and　binary　codes　and　atmospherics；　which　sucked　and　roared
behind　the　voices。
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“Use　the　dial　there　to　select；”　Eads　pointed。　“It’ll　seem　overwhelming　at　first；　but　you’ll　learn　to
differentiate　and　fine　tune。　For　the　next　two　hours；　we’re　assigned　flight　control　for　two　fighter
units：　Umbra　Flights　Four…One　and　Four…Two。　There　are　the　mission　parameters；　on　screen。”
Suddenly　nervous；　Darrow　read　the　details；　trying　not　to　miss　anything。　Two　intercept　units；　four
machines　in　each。　Routing　down　across　the　Peninsula　to　the　headwaters　of　the　Lida；　hunting
intruders。　Time　of　launch；　08。15。
He　looked　at　the　brass　chronometer　mounted　above　the　console　top。　It　read　08。14。
Theda　MAB　South；　08。15
“Straps　tight？”　Racklae　shouted；　barely　audible　over　the　rising　howl　of　the　fanjets。
Marquall　nodded。　Racklae　gave　him　a　finger…and…thumb　“O”；　then　ordered　the　ground　crew
clear。　They　jumped　off；　the　last　of　the　hoses　disconnected　and　stowed；　rolling　the　primer　cart　back。
One　fitter　carried　the　yellow　boarding　ladder　away。
Perched　beside　the　cockpit；　Racklae　tapped　his　ears　and　mouth。
Marquall　nodded　again。　He　keyed　the　vox。
“Test；　test；”　he　said。　“Umbra　Eight；　Umbra　Eight；　am　I　loud？”
“Umbra　Eight；　this　is　Lead。　You’re　loud　and　live。　Okay　there；　Marquall？”
“Yes；　ma’am。　Lights　are　green；　I　repeat　green。　Ready　to　lift。”
“Stand　by；　Eight。”
Marquall　made　the　sign　of　the　aquila；　then　looked　up　at　Racklae。　He　showed　him　a　thumb。　The
chief　fitter　grinned；　saluted　him；　and　closed　the　canopy。　Immediately；　the　sound　changed。　The　wail
of　the　jets　was　dulled；　but　Marquall　was　suddenly　contained　in　a　resonating　box　of　ultrasonic
vibrations。
Marquall　checked　the　canopy　lock；　then　made　a　gesture　almost　like　a　genuflection　to　his　chief。
Racklae　saw　it；　nodded；　then　jumped　down　and　hurried　over　into　cover　behind　the　revetment　wall　of
the　pad　enclosure。
“Umbra　Eight。　Locked　and　ready。”
“Got　you；　Eight。”
“Umbra　Ten；　ready。”
“Umbra　Seven。　Fit。”
“Stand　by；”　Jagdea　said　again。　“Four…Two　are　lifting　out　ahead　of　us。”
There　was　a　warble　of　voices　across　the　vox…channel；　then　a　wailing　rush　that　was　loud　even
with　the　canopy　down　and　helmet　on。　From　hardstands　nearby；　four　Thunderbolts　hoisted
themselves　up　vertically　into　the　air。　The　space　beneath　each　one　was　a　heat…distorted　wash　of
vectored　thrust。　Blansher；　Asche；　Cordiale　and　Ranfre；　Umbra　Two：　Four；　Eleven　and　Twelve
respectively。
On　Blansher’s　expert　lead；　they　began　to　climb　and　move　forward　as　their　vector　ducts　gently
swung　around。　In　neat　formation；　they　rose；　gaining　speed。　As　they　crossed　away　down　the　length　of
the　field；　their　primary　exhausts　lit　up　hot　and　yellow　as　full　thrust　switched　through　them。　Already；
they　were　receding；　climbing　higher；　accelerating。
“Operations；　this　is　Four…One　Leader；”　Marquall　heard　Jagdea　say。　“Permission　to　rise。”
“Four…One　Leader；　this　is　Operations。　You　are　cleared　for　immediate　launch。　Good　hunting。”
“Four…One；　this　is　Lead。　Let’s　go。”
Marquall　opened　the　throttle　and　felt　his　machine　quiver；　as　if　it　had　become　enraged。　Maximum
thrust。　He　felt　the　gentle　wobble　as　The　Smear　left　the　stand。　Even　though　it　expended　masses　of
fuel　reserve；　Marquall　preferred　vector　take…offs。　He　hated　ramp　launches；　and　the　bludgeoning
smack　of　the　rocket　boost。　He　was　thankful　that　no　ramps　had　yet　been　erected　at　Theda。
He　glanced　around；　compensating　for　the　wallow　of　his　rising　Bolt。　To　his　left；　Umbra　Ten　was
coming　up。　Marquall　could　almost　hear　Zemmic　fiddling　with　his　rosary　of　lucky　charms　as　his　bird
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rose。　To　his　right；　Jagdea　lifted　to　vertical；　and　Clovin；　two　stands　down　from　her。　Forty　metres　up；
perfect　station　keeping。
“Wait　for　it；”　Jagdea’s　voice　cautioned。　Blansher　favoured　the　slow；　gentlemanly　climb　from
vertical　to　full　forward；　but　Jagdea　preferred　the　hammer　start。　The　fitter　crews　knew　it。　They’d
already　hit　the　bunkers。
“Wait…”
Fifty　metres。
“On　me；　extend；　full　thrust；”　Jagdea　ordered。
Her　machine　roared　forward；　crossing　the　field　at　fifty　metres；　ducts　violently　thrown　to　level
flight。　Clovin　gunned　after　her；　then　Zemmic。　Marquall　nursed　his　throttle　and　then　bulleted　after
them。
The　ground　shot　away　underneath　them　like　speeded…up　pict　images。　The　punch　kicked　Marquall
back　into　his　seat。　At　full　burn；　they’d　cleared　the　deadlands　beyond　the　field　and　had　already
reached　close　to　six　hundred　kph　before　they　formed　up　and　began　to　rise。
“Four…One　Leader；　we　have　cleared　the　field。　Climbing　now　to　five　thousand。　Heading　southwest；
ten…eight…four。”
“Ten…eight…four；　copy　Leader；”　Operations　replied。　“Nice　launch。　Maybe　you　can　apologise　to
our　eardrums　later。”
“Copy　that；　Operations。　Fast　up；　fast　away。　That’s　the　way　we　do　things　where　I　come　from。”
“Understood。　What　else　do　you　do　where　you　come　from？”
“We　kill　bats。”
“Copy　that；　Leader。　Good　to　know。　Make　your　level　nine　thousand　and　turn　south…west　eleveneight…
five。”
“Eleven…eight…five。　Understood。　Four…One；　check　in。”
“Four…One；　Seven。　On　your　lead。”
“Four…One；　Ten。　At　your　heels；　to　port。　Nice　day　for　it。”
“Clear　as　a　bell；　Zemmic。　Count　your　lucky　charms。”
Marquall　adjusted　his　mask。　“Four…One；　Eight。　Right　with　you。”
“Stay　close；　Marquall。　This　is　going　to　be　a　breeze。”　It　was。　He　knew　it　was。　He　was　going　to
make　sure　it　was。
He’d　screwed　up　on　his　virgin　outing。　He　could　still　see　Pers　Espere；　sitting　in　his　cockpit；　blood
on　everything。　The　image　was　in　his　dreams　and　his　waking　thoughts。
But　Jagdea　hadn’t　giv