Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第30部分

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She　went　straight　up　into　the　heart　of　the　splitting　pack；　choosing　a　Locust　that　was　vivid　amber
and　striped　with　gold。　It　was　already　turning　out；　but　she　had　fine　lead　time。　She　banked　slightly　and
let　it　fly　into　her　sights。
Squeeze。
Electric　blue；　the　las…bursts　zapped　away　from　her　nose　cone。　She　let　off　three　pairs　of　shots；　and
it　was　the　second　that　caught　the　Locust　squarely。　Pieces　of　its　hull　flew　off　in　a　puff　of　smoke；　and
it　flopped　over　on　its　back。　Fire　began　to　rush　out　of　its　underbelly；　and　it　described　a　long；　laboured
dive　down　into　the　rainforest。　Jagdea　saw　a　flash　deep　beneath　the　thick　canopy；　and　smoke　and
steam　broiled　up　out　of　the　trees。
Blansher’s　chosen　target；　a　bright　blue　machine　with　vile　yellow　insignia；　evaded　his　first　blasts；
and　managed　a　fine　power　dive　under　Blansher’s　trajectory　that　Umbra　Two　couldn’t　hope　to
follow。　Blansher　swung　around　and　started　to　chase　a　copper…coloured　Locust　that　was　fleeing
south。　He　came　up；　but　the　Locust　was　extending　fast。　The　small　enemy　machines　had　a　terrific　turn
of　speed　and　climb　rate。　Blansher　cursed；　broke　off　and　rolled　back　into　the　brawl。
Cordiale　was　locked　onto　a　crimson　bat　that　was　trying　to　shake　him　by　diving　towards　the
forest。　Accepting　the　invitation；　Cordiale　stooped；　chasing　the　red　speck　into　the　green　bosom　of　the
forest。　Levelling　out　at　the　tree…tops；　the　bat　began　to　jink　and　switch；　and　Cordiale　had　to　stand　his
plane　on　one　wingtip　and　then　the　other　to　stick　fast。　He　punched　off　a　shot；　missed；　corrected　and
fired　again。
Another　miss。
“Tricksy　little　bastard…”　Cordiale　muttered；　wrenched　back　and　forth　by　the　centrifugal　force　of
the　constant　turns。
Above　him；　Jagdea　was　hunting　down　her　second　scalp。　She　had　her　eyes　on　a　yellow　bat　that
was　breaking　west；　but　abruptly　rolled　out　as　she　heard　a　shrill　lock　warning。　The　blue　Locust
Blansher　had　lost　on　his　first　pass　was　on　her　back。　It　fired　twice；　gleaming　streamers　of　bolter　fire；
but　she　dodged　out　of　line　each　time　and　finally　managed　to　throw　it　by　hitting　her　speed　brakes　and
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viffing　almost　to　a　standstill。　The　blue　hostile　ripped　by　under　her　starboard　wing；　realised　he’d　been
dummied；　and　broke　right　and　high。　Jagdea　screwed　over　to　follow　its　climb。
The　yellow　bat　had　decided　not　to　run　after　all；　and　had　executed　a　vector　turn　high　above；
dropping　in　like　an　arrow　to　find　a　target。　It　had　missed　its　chance　with　Jagdea；　so　it　went　for
Cordiale；　who　was　still　locked　in　the　chase　at　the　leaf…line　with　the　crimson　Locust。
It　hadn’t　even　seen　Blansher。
Umbra　Two　fell　on　it　from　above　and　behind；　quad　cannons　alight。　The　Locust　shuddered
painfully；　its　hull　deformed　by　the　stresses　of　the　multiple　impacts；　and　then　blossomed　like　a　flower
into　bright；　radial　petals　of　burning；　expanding　gas。
At　about　the　same　moment；　a　thousand　metres　higher　up；　Jagdea　managed　to　pull　off　the　most
perfect　Ziegner　turn；　witnessed　by　no　one；　and　came　in　true　on　the　blue　bat　as　it　attempted　one　final
slice…roll　to　port。
Her　grouped　shots　ripped　out　its　nose；　then　wrenched　off　a　wing…section。　As　it　began　to　wobble；
she　fired　a　third　burst　that　hit　the　Locust　directly　under　the　cockpit　mount　on　the　port　side。　The
entire　cockpit　assembly　exploded。　An　ejector　system　must　have　fired；　because　she　clearly　saw　a
burning　object　fly　straight　up　out　of　the　stricken　bat　and　then　fall　away　like　a　meteor。　Empty；　ruined；
its　pilot　already　incinerated；　the　Locust　folded　up　and　rained　down　onto　the　forest　as　a　hundred
thousand　burning　scraps。
Two　of　the　remaining　bats　had　now　fled　south　on　full　burn。　The　last　live　target　was　the　crimson
one　that　Cordiale　was　pursuing　over　the　trees。
“Need　assist？”　Blansher　voxed；　rolling　down。
“Negative；　Two。　Negative。　I’ve　got　him。　Tricksy　little　bastard。”
Flying　at　zero　over　the　canopy　at　close　on　four　hundred　kph；　Cordiale　whooped　as　he　finally　got
a　fleeting　lock　tone。　He　opened　up。
At　precisely　the　same　moment；　his　target’s　shock…wash　scared　a　flock　of　pink　birds　out　of　the
trees。　Cordiale　flew　smack　into　them。　They　hit　his　plane　like　cannon　shells。　Plating　fractured。　The
canopy　smashed。　One　engine　shrieked　as　feathered　missiles　clogged　the　intakes　and　buckled　the
whirring　fans。　There　was　a　mist　of　blood。
“Shit！”　they　heard　Cordiale　yell。
Jagdea　and　Blansher　were　already　sweeping　down　after　him。　They　both　witnessed　the　odd；　pink
flare　of　organic　debris　as　his　machine　mowed　into　the　flock。　Cordiale　had　hit　the　crimson　Locust；
and　it　had　promptly　crashed　at　high　speed　into　the　trees。
But　none　of　them　cared　about　that　now。
“Cordiale！”　Jagdea　screamed。
Umbra　Eleven；　hammered；　one　engine　totalled；　tried　to　correct；　faltered　and　hit　the　trees。
“Cordiale！　Cordiale！”　Blansher　could　hear　Jagdea　yelling　over　the　vox。
Suddenly；　almost　impossibly；　Umbra　Eleven　reappeared；　splashing　out　of　the　torn　and　thrashing
greenery　like　a　flying　fish　out　of　an　ocean　swell。　Cordiale　had　managed；　against　the　odds；　to　keep
the　nose　up；　and　had　ripped　through　the　upper　foliage　of　the　canopy　mass　without　striking　a　primary
trunk。
He　began　to　climb；　pouring　a　nail　of　brown　smoke　out　of　his　port　engine　that　soon　turned　white。
“Umbra　Eleven？”
“Still　here；　Lead。　Bastard　bloody　birds。”
Nineteen　minutes　later；　they　settled　back　at　the　FSB。　Blansher　and　Jagdea　had　nurse…maided
Cordiale’s　buckled；　limping　Bolt　all　the　way　home。
The　camo…shrouds　drew　back；　exposing　the　matt…deck　hardstands　like　sockets　in　the　green
wilderness。
The　three　Thunderbolts　switched　to　vertical　vector　and　sank　gently　onto　their　stands。　As　their
fans　powered　down；　the　shimmer　netting　folded　back　over　them。
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As　soon　as　her　stand　controller　gave　her　the　hand　signal　for　okay；　Jagdea　yanked　out　her　vox　and
air　plugs；　climbed　out　of　her　cockpit　and　jumped　down　onto　the　vulcanised　mat。　She　tossed　her
helmet　to　the　nearest　fitter　and　ran　out　of　the　launch　area　along　the　decking　under　the　trees。
She　reached　Cordiale’s　pad　around　the　same　time　as　Blansher。　Umbra　Eleven；　venting　steam　and
coiling　plumes　of　vapour；　was　a　mess。　The　canopy　was　wrecked　and　the　nose　armour　pummelled。　A
team　of　fitters　was　spraying　retardant　foam　into　the　clogged；　burning　engine。　The　fore…part　of　the
Thunderbolt　was　a　mass　of　sticky　black　blood　and　tattered　feathers。
Cordiale　was　climbing　down。　He　was　shaking。　One　bird　carcass　had　punched　through　his　canopy
so　hard　it　had　smashed　his　visor　and　given　him　a　black　eye。
He　took　off　his　helmet；　dropped　it；　and　wiped　the　treacly　blood　from　his　face。　Then　he　squinted
round　at　Jagdea　and　Blansher　as　they　came　up　to　him。
“Mental　note；”　he　said；　wagging　a　finger　at　Jagdea。　“Avoid　birds　wherever　possible。”
“Will　do；”　she　smiled。
Cordiale　reached　around　to　the　nose　of　his　aircraft　and　peeled　a　pink　feather　out　of　the　sticky
mass　plastered　across　it。
He　held　it　up。
“Lucky　feather；　anyone？”
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　16。42
The　scops　were　killing　him。　He’d　signed　up　to　fight　the　Archenemy　of　mankind；　not　microscopic
flies。　Everywhere　he　went；　they　surrounded　him；　unseen；　filling　his　ears　with　a　hiss　like　a　tuned…out
vox。
His　back　was　sore。　He’d　tried　not　to　scratch；　but…
Marquall　wandered　down　to　the　lake　shore；　wondering　if　the　filthy　things　would　leave　him　alone
out　in　the　open。　It　didn’t　seem　to　help。
The　lake’s　beach　was　muddy　and　dimpled。　Behind　him；　the　dense　rainforest　rose　like　a　rotting
curtain。　The　sun　was　beginning　to　sink；　turning　the　sky　as　rose…pink　as　Cordiale’s　lucky　bloody
feathers。
The　lake　was　immense。　It　occurred　to　Marquall　that　he’d　never　seen　a　lake　before。　Standing
water；　that　was　a　novelty。　It　was　kind　of　like　looking　out　across　the　Scald　from　the　ports　of　a
Phantine　hive；　except　that　it　was　so　flat。　So　sheer。　The　vast　green　mirror　had　not　changed　colour　as
the　sun　set；　but　it　had　altered　tonally。　It　was　murky　now；　heavy；　still。
Slip…snakes　danced　across　its　surface　tension。
Marquall　wondered　if　he　should　go　check　on　his　bird；　but　the　last　time　he’d　seen　Nine…Nine；　two
Navy　Sentinels；　fitted　out　with　paint　tanks　and　wash　guns　in　place　of　the　regular　lifting　claws；　had
been　half…way　through　spraying　it　green。
Marquall　knelt　at　the　shore　line；　and　dipped　his　arms　into　the　water。　It　was　warm。　He　cupped　his
hands　to　wash　his　face。
“Don’t　do　that；　you　cretin。”
Marquall　looked　over　his　shoulder。　The　ayatani　was　sitting　on　a　promontory　of　rock　behind　him；
his　blue　robes　gathered　about　him。
What　was　his　name　again？　Kautas；　was　it？
“Why　shouldn’t　I？”　Marquall　asked。
“No　reason。　Go　right　ahead。”
Marquall　let　the　water　fall　out　of　his　fingers　and　rose；　wiping　his　hands　dry　on　the　legs　of　his
trousers。　“Come　on。　Tell　me。”
“Baroxyin　Biroxas；”　said　the　priest。
“Which　is？”
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“A　microscopic　water　wyrm。　The　lake　is　lousy　with　them。　If　they　enter　the　bloodstream；　say
through　the　mouth　or　nose　or　tear　ducts；　they　infest　the　brainstem；　multiplying　at　a　prodigious　rate；
bursting　blood　vessels；　severing　neural　pathways　and　eventually　causing　such　related　symptoms　as
an　inability　to　remember　your　own　name；　an　inability　to　speak；　an　inability　to　regulate　your　own
bowel　movements　and　an　inability　to　live。”
“Okay；”　Marquall　said。
“Just　so　you　know。”
“I