Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第29部分

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before　the　liberation　of　Phantine　had　even　finished；　was　the　real　thing；　respected　by　all　for　her　sheer
talent。　And　young；　too。　Blansher　had　a　huge　tally；　but　he　was　an　old　guy。　Larice　seemed　not　much
older　than　Marquall　himself。
She　was　lean　and　gamine；　with　bony　cheeks　and　a　vicious；　toothy　grin。　The　previous　afternoon；
before　they’d　shipped　out　to　Gocel；　she’d　had　her　famous　blonde　hair　shaved　down　to　a　finger
width。　“Jungle　lice；”　she’d　announced；　adding；　“do　not　want　them。”
“The　med…station’s　near　stores；　isn’t　it？”　she　asked　him。
“I　think　so。”
“I’ll　tag　along。　So　much　for　precautions。”
“What？”
She　ran　a　hand　through　her　brutally　cropped　hair。　“For　this。”
“How　so？”
She　pulled　off　her　jacket　and　showed　him　the　multiple　bites　on　her　bare　forearms。　“Scops；”　he
said。　“So　they　say。”
“Me　too；”　he　said；　dropping　his　flight　coat　off　one　arm　and　showing　her　his　shoulder。
“Bitching；”　she　said。
The　Munitorum　station　was　a　ring　of　hardened　prefabs　standing　in　the　blue　shadows　of　a
massive　frond…tree。　They　went　inside；　into　the　air…scrubbed　cool。　The　duty　attendant；　his　face　full　of
ancient　augmetics；　looked　up　from　his　cogitator。
“I　need　a　new　tag；”　Marquall　said。
“I　believe；　pilot　officer；　you　mean　you　need　a　new　tag　please；　senior。”
“Ah…　what？”
“I　am　Senior　Lirek。　You　will　address　me　civilly；”　Marquall　glanced　at　his　chronometer。　“There’s
a　war　on；”　he　said。　Asche　sniggered。
“Indeed　there　is。　And　has　civility　run　out？　Where　would　the　Navy　be　without　the　constant　efforts
of　the　Munitorum？”
“I　have　no　idea；”　said　Marquall。
“Ah！　Indeed！”　Lirek　said；　rising　to　his　feet　and　adjusting　his　heavy　optics　manually。　“You　expert
us　to　be　at　your　beck　and　call；　and　want　this　and　want　that　but—”
“Do　you　know　who　that　is？”　Larice　hissed　at　the　old　man。
“Uh…　no。”
“Larice—”　Marquall　began　nervously。
“That’s　only　Marquall；”　Asche　continued；　her　eyes　fake…wide。　“Killer　Marquall。　The　one　who…
you　know…”
“No；”　mumbled　Lirek。　“I’m　not　sure　I　do—”
“The　one　who　made　the　kill！”　said　Asche。
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“The　kill？”
“The　kill。　The　kill。　For　Throne’s　sake；　and　you　talk　about　respect…”
“No；　well；　yes；”　stammered　the　Munitorum　senior　suddenly。　“I　forget　myself。　Your　device；　sir？”
“It　doesn’t　work；”　said　Marquall；　handing　his　bracelet　over。
“So　it　doesn’t。　A　terrible　oversight。　Wait　one　moment；　if　you　will。”
Lirek　came　back　with　a　fresh　tag　unit。　“Here；　sir。　I　have　tested　it。　In　the　event　of　a　cover
warning；　it　will　illuminate；　and；　as　required；　silently　alert　or　wake　you　by　a　gentle；　non…harmful
electric　pulse。”
Marquall　signed　for　it。　“Thank　you；”　he　said。
“I　live　to　serve；　sir；”　Lirek　said；　his　tortoise…head　bowing。
Outside；　Asche　started　sniggering。
“What　did　you　do　that　for？”
“It　got　you　your　tag；　didn’t　it？”　she　asked。
“Yeah。　But　you　lied。”
“Have　you　made　a　kill　or　not？”
“Yes…”
“Then　I　didn’t　lie。　What　does　he　know？”
“You’re　bad；　Larice　Asche。”
“So　they　say。”
Next　door　to　the　stores；　a　long　prefab　huddled　under　the　shimmer　hoods。　A　tall　man　in　early
middle　age；　well…made　and　masculine；　sat　on　the　entrance　steps。　His　arms　were　folded　on　his　knees；
and　his　head　rested　on　his　arms。　His　hair　was　matted　with　what　looked　like　dry　clay；　forming
dreadlocks。　He　wore　the　blue　silk　robes　of　an　ayatani；　one　of　the　Bead’s　priesthood。
“Father；”　said　Marquall。　“Is　the　medicae　in？”
“He’s　out；”　answered　the　priest。
“Maybe　we　can　leave　him　a　note？”　Marquall　suggested　to　Asche。
“No；　I　gotta　find　something。　These　bites　are　killing　me。”
They　went　into　the　med…block。　All　the　surfaces　were　polished　steel　and　swabbed　plastek。　The
circulating　air　smelled　of　mint。　Asche　began　to　rifle　through　the　drug　cabinets。
“What　are　you　doing？”
The　ayatani　stood　behind　them　in　the　doorway。　“Helping　myself；”　said　Asche。
“I　told　you　the　medicae　was　out。”
“Yeah；　you　did。”
“Now　he’s　in　again。”
They　both　looked　at　the　tall　priest。　He　raised　a　hand　and　shook　back　his　sleeve　to　reveal　a　Navyissue
ident　cuff。　Divisio　Medicae。
“I’m　Ayatani　Kautas…　I　also　happen　to　be　serving　medicae　at　this　FSB。　Take　your　filthy　hands
out　of　my　drug　store。”
Asche　jumped　back；　causing　boxed　packets　to　scatter　on　the　grille　floor。
“What’s　the　problem？”　the　priest　snapped。
“Uh；　scop　bites；”　said　Marquall；　starting　to　turn　to　show　the　practitioner　his　blisters。
Kautas　strode　past；　ignoring　him。　He　picked　up　two　tubes　of　salve　and　threw　them　at　Marquall。
The　boy　caught　them；　just。
“Twice　a　day！”　he　snarled。　“Don’t　come　back　unless　you　get　crotch…rot。”
“Thank　you；　father…”　Marquall　began。　“Piss　off；　looters。”
“What　was　all　that　about？”　Asche　said　as　they　walked　away。
“I’m　not　sure；”　Marquall　said。
“Oh；　who　cares？”　Asche　smiled　at　him。　“So；　killer；　what　are　you—”
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They　both　jumped　as　their　tags　went　off；　zapping　their　wrists　and　flashing　the　red　rune。
“Shit！”　cried　Marquall。　“Who’s　on？　Are　you　on？”
“No；”　said　Asche；　and　pulled　him　towards　the　nearest　shelter。
Jagdea　was　already　in　her　Bolt　when　the　thrill　hit　her　arm。　On　matt…decks　east　and　west　of　her；
Blansher　and　Cordiale　stood　by　in　their　own　machines。
Her　chief　fitter　closed　her　hood　and　gave　her　the　sign　of　the　aquila。
She　sat　in　her　machine；　angled　seventy…five　degrees　towards　the　sky　on　a　hydraulic　fast…launch
ramp。　The　base　had　three；　all　of　them　ready　to　answer　a　snap　call　at　any　time。　Above；　all　she　could
see　was　sunlight　playing　through　shimmer　net。
Her　thumb　rolled　over　the　red　toggle…cover　and　rested　on　the　“rocket　fire”　stud。
She　waited；　sweat　trickling　down　her　face　onto　her　mask。
Silence。　Heat。　The　distant　stir　of　the　forest。
“Umbra　Leader…”　the　vox　began。
Above　her　bird’s　elevated　nose　cone；　the　shimmer　nets　were　suddenly　drawing　back　and
daylight　spilling　in。　She　knew　the　order　before　it　was　given。
“…you　are　go　for　launch。”
Her　thumb　stabbed　down。
With　a　terrible　punch　and　a　roar；　she　left　the　world　behind。
The　Cicatrice；　06。50
“You’re　okay。　You’re　okay。　Trust　me。”
“What’s　the　use；　sir？”　asked　Matredes。　“I　think　he’s　gonna　die。”
“No；”　said　LeGuin。　“I　reckon　he’s　just　thirsty。　Give　him　some　water。”　Matredes　and　Emdeen
looked　at　him；　unhappy。
“We’re　down　to　the　last　recyc；”　Emdeen　said。
“I　know；”　said　LeGuin。
“I　think　we　should’ve　just　left　him　where　we　found　him；”　Matredes　said。
“We’re　not　leaving　anyone；”　said　LeGuin。
“Damn　it；”　sighed　Emdeen；　and　moved　forward　to　dribble　water　from　his　flask　into　the　prone
man’s　cracked　mouth。
“Greta；”　he　moaned。　“Greta…”
“Who’s　Greta？”　Matredes　wondered。
“His　girl？”　suggested　Emdeen。
“What’s　his　name？”　asked　LeGuin。
Emdeen　reached　into　the　man’s　scorched　flight　coat　and　pulled　out　a　set　of　clinking　Imperial
tags。
“Viltry；”　he　said。
Over　the　forests；　07。00
The　forest　canopy　was　like　a　vast　green　rug　that　had　been　rolled　out　over　the　top　of　boxes　and
furniture　to　form　a　soft；　undulating　mass。　The　three　Thunderbolts　skimmed　as　low　as　possible；
following　the　contours　of　the　tree　mass；　trying　to　keep　below　any　ranged　sensor　cones。　Their
aftershock　rocked　and　roiled　the　canopy　like　an　angry　sea；　and　flocks　of　disturbed　avians　and　other
flying　creatures　regularly　mobbed　out　into　the　air　like　bursts　of　gaudy　shrapnel。
Blansher　and　Cordiale　kept　their　birds　tucked　close　to　Jagdea’s　lead。
“Umbra；”　Jagdea　voxed。　“Turn　zero…six…two　west。　Contacts　presenting　at　nineteen　kilometres
and　six　thousand。　Wait　for　my　order　to　rise。”
“Read　you；　Lead。”
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Jagdea　had　a　feeling　something　was　not　quite　right；　and　it　wasn’t　just　the　markedly　different
terrain。　They　were　a　good　few　minutes　into　the　flight　when　she　realised　it　was　her　own　Bolt；　the
parts　of　the　nose　and　wings　she　could　see　from　the　cockpit。　She　wasn’t　yet　used　to　the　fact　they　were
green。　The　crews　at　the　FSB　had　sprayed　them　with　a　lime…green　wash　to　aid　concealment。　She　was
so　used　to　a　grey　shape　encasing　her。
Up　in　the　cloudless　blue；　she　caught　a　flash；　a　glint　of　sunlight　on　metal。　A　second　later；　she
resolved　tiny　dots　against　the　glare；　and　traces　of　white　contrail。
“Umbra　Two；　Lead。　I　see　vapour　trails　at　three。”
“Got　it；　Two。　The　bastards　are　coming　across　above　us。　Weapons　live；　flight。　Get　ready　to　climb
like　hell。”
Five　specks。　No；　six。　Small。　Razors；　perhaps。
“On　my　mark…　three；　two；　mark！”
The　three　pilots　opened　their　throttles　and　heaved　on　their　sticks；　swinging　the　heavy
Thunderbolts　up　and　away　from　the　forest　hood　into　the　clear　sky。　Jagdea　could　see　the　hostiles
plainly　now。　Six　Locusts　in　cruise　formation。
Umbra　was　climbing　as　hard　as　their　turbofans　would　allow；　pressed　firmly　back　in　their　seats。
The　bats　appeared　not　to　have　seen　them　yet；　but　that　would　change　very　soon。　Jagdea　settled　her
hand　around　the　stick　grip；　placing　her　thumb　carefully　on　the　fire　stud。
Intercept　in　ten　seconds；　nine；　eight…
Suddenly；　startled　like　the　birds　that　their　jets　had　scared　out　of　the　treetops；　the　bats　broke；　their
formation　exploded。
But　Umbra　was　already　committed。
“Divide　and　conquer；”　Jagdea　instructed。
She　went　straight　up　into　the　heart　of　the　splitting　pack；　choosing　a　Locust　that　was