Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第35部分

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The　violent　turn　was　putting　nine　and　a　half　Gs　on　her　machine；　so　much　that　the　electric
autoloaders　couldn’t　raise　ammunition　to　the　cannons。
In　hindsight；　Jagdea　was　glad　she’d　already　lost　her　breakfast。　At　nine　and　a　half；　so　weighty　the
actual　guns　had　slowed　down；　she’d　have　choked　and　died　a　messy；　stupid　death。
She　came　out　of　the　mashing　turn；　lined　up　on　a　Razor；　and　wounded　it　with　gunfire。
“Time　you　were　gone；”　a　voice　said　over　the　vox。　It　was　Blansher。　He　torched　in；　with　Asche；
Waldon；　Zemmic　and　Ranfre　in　his　wake。
“Good　to　see　you；”　she　called。
“You　might　not　think　so　when　we　get　home；”　Blansher　advised；　shooting　his　way　through　a
loose　formation　of　Hell　Talons。　“This　is　simply　extrication。　You　and　Van　Tull　and　Del　Ruth…　get
out　now。”
“Del　Ruth　has　already　gone。　We　have　to　cover　the　column。”
“Get　serious；　Bree。　Have　you　seen　how　many　bats　are　in　the　air？　Besides；　there’s　not　much　left
of　it。”
Peeling　out；　Jagdea　looked　down。　On　the　desert　floor　below；　there　was　an　awful　lot　of　fire　and
wreckage；　but　only　a　few　Imperial　vehicles　still　moving。　Despite　the　fighters’　best　efforts；　the　Hell
Talons　had　bombed　most　of　the　column　into　the　hereafter。
“Can　we　go？”　Blansher　called。
“Yeah。　Yes。　Umbra；　disengage　and　quit。”
The　seven　Phantine　Thunderbolts　broke　out　of　the　sky…fight　and　lit　up　eastwards。　Behind　them；
the　crust　of　the　desert　blazed。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　12。02
Now　Bree　Jagdea　understood　the　full　meaning　of　Milan　Bansher’s　remark。　Showered　and　cleaned
up；　she　stood　in　the　dispersal　chamber　of　the　FSB’s　main　prefab；　listening　to　the　air　coolers　hum。
Facing　her　was　the　base　commander；　Marcinon；　and　Wing　Leader　Ortho　Blaguer；　the　Raptors’　chief。
Blaguer；　a　tight…faced；　high　cheek…boned　man　in　his　fifties；　had　air　command　over　Jagdea　in　the
base。　His　flight　armour　was　as　black　as　his　wing’s　planes。
“You　were　ordered　to　pull　out；”　said　Marcinon。
She　hadn’t　liked　him　from　the　start。　Reedy　voice；　gangly　frame；　an　adam’s　apple　that　appeared
larger　than　his　nose。　Augmetics　down　his　left　side。　“I　was；　sir。　However；　I　appreciated　the　situation
differently；　as　is　the　purview　of　a　flight　commander。　There　were　lives　to　be　saved。”
“And　to　be　lost；”　said　Blaguer。　Jagdea　didn’t　like　him　either。　Oily；　groomed；　aloof；　the　worst
stereotype　of　Navy　aviators。
“Indeed；　sir；”　said　Jagdea。
“Gocel　Operations　decided　that　was　a　fight　not　worth　the　winning　and　called　you　off；”　said
Marcinon。　“However；　five　of　your　pilots…　let　me　see　now…　Milan　Blansher；　Larice　Asche；　Katry
Waldon；　Orlonz　Zemmic　and　Goran　Ranfre…　disobeyed　Operations。　They　launched；　committed；
and　fought。”
“To　get　me　and　Van　Tull　free；”　said　Jagdea。
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“Because　you　had　suggested　they　should。　This　is　not　good　enough；　Jagdea。　I　intend　to　discipline
all　of　you；　particularly　you；　commander。　Throne；　if　we　didn’t　need　pilots　so　badly；　I’d　have　you　all
off　active。”
Marcinon’s　face　had　become　flushed。　A　vein　bulged　in　his　forehead。
“Actually；　I　don’t　think　you　can；”　a　voice　said。
Jagdea　looked　round。　An　ayatani　priest　had　stepped　into　the　room；　followed　by　Blansher　and
Marquall。
“Kautas？”　Blaguer　sneered。　“Go　away　father；　there’s　no　booze　here。”
Ayatani　Kautas　grinned　at　the　Raptor　chief。　“Don’t　worry；　boss。　I’ve　had　plenty　to　get　me　going。
I’ve　been　chatting　with　Mister　Blansher　here。　Fine　fellow。　Second…in…command　of　Umbra；　so　Mister
Marquall　tells　me。　This　is　Marquall。　Stout　fellow。　He　introduced　me　to　Mister　Blansher。”
Marcinon　shuffled　his　papers　and　slates。　“You’re　drunk；　father。　Go　away。”
“Drunk？　Yes。　Right…　well；　who’d　have　thought　it？”　Kautas　smirked。　“You　can’t　discipline
Umbra　Flight。　In　fact　you　can’t　order　them　around　at　all。　Know　why？”
“Oh；　please；　illuminate　me；”　said　Marcinon　wearily。
“You’re　Navy。　Imperial　Navy。　Every　last　one　of　you。　You’ve　zero　authority　over　the　Phantine。”
“This　is　ridiculous；”　Blaguer　began；　rising。
“Shut　it；　hair…oil；”　snapped　Kautas。　Jagdea　had　to　cover　a　snigger。　“Sit　the　hell　down。　You’re
Imperial　Navy。”
“Yes；　father；”　Marcinon　said；　evidently　ill　at　ease。
“Right。　Navy。　No　authority　over　the　Imperial　Guard　whatsoever。”
“None；”　said　Marcinon；　his　teeth　gritted；　suddenly　aware　of　where　this　was　going。
“Then　shut　up；”　said　Kautas。　“The　Phantine　fliers　are　Imperial　Guard。　An　exception。　An　oddity。
Their　world　is—how　can　I　put　it—just　sky。　So　when　they　raise　Guard　fundings；　most　of　them　are
airborne。　They’re　not　Navy。　Not　now；　never　will　be。　You　have　no　jurisdiction。”
“Thank　you　for　enlightening　us；　father；”　Marcinon　said。　“Commander　Jagdea？”
“I　think　it’s　all　been　said；　sir；”　she　replied。　“The　Phantine　XX　are　Imperial　Guard。　We　stand
here；　on　this　world；　willing　and　eager　to　fly　alongside　the　fine　aviators　of　the　Navy；　in　a　cooperative
venture　for　the　good　of　mankind。　In　the　spirit　of　that　cooperation；　I　accept　your　censure　and　offer　my
apologies。　But　please　do　not　presume　to　lecture　me　again。　It　would　open　a　can　of　worms；　sirs；　and
likely　involve　the　offices　of　the　Lord　Militant　and　the　Commissariat。　Our　lives　are　too　full　and　too
urgent　for　such　wasteful　complications。”
She　saluted　and　turned　on　her　heels。
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DAY　263
The　Makanites；　13。33
The　previous　day；　fate—or　the　beneficence　of　the　God…Emperor　of　Man—had　decreed　them　clear
passage　up　through　the　cold　winding　passes　through　the　mountains。　Not　a　hint　of　war　had　touched
them；　not　an　auspex　contact；　not　even　the　distant　murmur　of　a　warplane　overhead。　Their　flasks　and
cans　replenished　with　cool；　brackish　water　from　mountain　rills；　they　had　raced　ahead；　buoyed　with　a
sense　of　sudden　expectation　and　hope。　At　nightfall；　where　previously　LeGuin　had　ordered　a　rest　stop
to　take　advantage　of　the　lower　temperatures；　they　had　pressed　on；　edging　on　through　the　dark；
grinding　along　the　bottoms　of　gorges　and　rock　cuts；　thundering　up　across　pebble…strewn　slopes。
At　some　hour　after　midnight；　the　column　passed　over　the　spine　of　the　mountains　at　a　place　called
Ragnar’s　Cut；　and　began　its　descent　into　the　broad　foothills　of　the　north。
Viltry　rode　with　the　Line　of　Death。　He　had　been　offered　the　place　of　a　gunner　killed　on　the　road
some　days　before。　He　wasn’t　expected　to　perform　any　tasks。　He　was　simply　a　passenger。
LeGuin　took　a　turn　driving　in　the　mid…period；　to　relieve　the　weary　Emdeen。　Emdeen　climbed
into　the　commander’s　turret　seat　and　immediately　fell　asleep。　In　the　bare…metal　rocker…seat　of　the
sponson　below；　Viltry　found　slumber　harder　to　achieve。　The　noise　of　the　Pardus　tank　was　ferocious；
and　its　motion　far　more　violent　than　any　plane；　even　under　bad　turbulence。　It　was　a　vibration；　a
shaking；　not　at　all　like　the　fluid　variances　of　flight。　Loose　rocks　thrown　up　by　the　treads　clattered
against　the　heavy　hull　and　the　track　guards。　It　was　hot；　despite　the　night…chill　outside；　and　the　moist
air　reeked　of　smoke　and　oil　and　unwashed　flesh。　There　was　also　nothing　to　see。　The　night　was
moonless；　the　dark　enclosing。　The　convoy　elements　moved　with　hooded　lamps。　Within　the　tank；
there　was　merely　the　red　cabin　light　and　the　glow　of　the　thick…glassed　displays。
When　LeGuin　called　out　that　they　had　at　last　passed　over　the　top　of　the　Makanite　Ridge；　Viltry
simply　had　to　take　the　tanker’s　word　for　it。
Dawn　came　in；　grey　and　heavy。　Emdeen　resumed　his　driving；　and　LeGuin　and　Viltry　sat　in　the
turret　with　the　hatches　open。　The　air；　cold　and　damp　and　filled　with　exhaust　from　the　long　line　of
trundling　machines；　was　at　least　refreshing　after　the　stuffy　interior。
There　was　still　very　little　to　see。
The　trail　curled　down　through　bare；　grey　foothills；　snaking　through　a　boulder…strewn　landscape
that　seemed　devoid　of　natural　growth。　Mist　choked　the　valley　beyond；　stealing　away　any　distant
view。　Behind　them；　the　Makanites　were　towers　of　shadow　against　a　bleached；　starved　sky。
The　sun　rose；　but　the　mist　refused　to　clear；　and　they　bore　on　down　into　a　layer　of　haze　and　poor
visibility。
They　passed　by　three　Imperial　troop　trucks；　abandoned　by　the　side　of　the　track；　evidence　of　a
previous　column　fleeing　this　way；　and　then；　at　about　ten；　overhauled　the　tail　end　of　it。　It　was　twice
the　size　of　LeGuin’s　contingent；　and　moving　much　more　slowly。
They　fell　in　pace　with　it。　LeGuin　moved　his　machine　right　to　the　head　of　his　section　of　the
formation；　and　made　vox　contact　with　the　second　column’s　leaders。　From　the　exchanges　Viltry
could　overhear；　their　new　companions　were　travelling　under　the　same　sort　of　ad　hoc　command　as
LeGuin’s　segment。　Proper　lines　of　command　through　the　tank　and　infantry　forces　had　long　since
been　lost。　It　appeared　the　tankers　like　LeGuin—due　to　the　fact　that　they　were　now　the　defending
escort　of　thousands　of　truck…bound　troops—were　calling　the　shots　by　necessity。
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LeGuin　seemed　particularly　pleased　to　hear　that　several　tank　crews　from　his　own　regiment　were
riding　with　the　other　column。　He　exchanged　tart；　joking　vox　conversations　with　a　captain　called
Woll。
“Good　to　hear　his　voice；”　LeGuin　said　to　Viltry　as　he　settled　the　vox…horn　back　onto　its　cradle。
“I’d　heard　rumours　that　Old　Strontium　had　been　destroyed　at　the　Trinity　Gates。　The　old　rascal。”
Viltry　understood　LeGuin’s　delight。　He　too