Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第45部分

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“I　merely　wanted　to　enquire　after　your　health。　I　was　concerned　when　I　heard　the　news。”
“I　thought　you　Apostles　didn’t　care　about　injury　or　death？”
“We　just　don’t　care　about　each　other；”　he　said。　He　looked　round　for　a　moment。　“I　must　be
getting　along。　May　the　Emperor　protect　you；　commander。”
She　nodded。
Only　when　he　was　out　of　sight　down　the　length　of　the　long　hallway；　did　she　notice　the　long
stemmed　bloom；　its　petals　a　rich　Imperial　purple；　that　he　had　left　on　the　window’s　sill。
Langersville；　15。16
From　the　hills　above　the　foreshore；　it　looked　as　if　parts　of　the　coastline　were　breaking　off　and
drifting　out　to　sea。
LeGuin’s　convoy　had　reached　the　headland；　and　was　now　crawling　down　into　the　seaport；　just
one　small　part　of　the　teeming　forces　seeking　evacuation。
Threatening　skies　drifted　above　them；　and　a　brisk　sea　breeze　washed　them。　Schools　of　Valkyries
burned　off　fields　on　the　lower　slopes；　heading　out　to　sea。　Viltry　could　see　Oneros　prepping　for　takeoff。
At　the　docks；　VTRPs；　pontoons　and　mass…barges　slugged　away　from　the　shore。　The　mass…barges
were　enormous　cargo　ships；　belching　smoke　from　their　stacks；　their　open　bellies　laden　with　armour
and　carriers。　As　they　plied　out　into　the　deeper　waters；　others；　riding　light　and　empty；　were　piloted　in
to　the　dock　quays。
The　VTRPs—Vertical　Thrust　Raft　Platforms—were　colossal。　Each　one　was　an　armoured
rectangle　five　hectares　square；　suspended　over　the　water　by　monumental　vector　engines　at　the
corners　and　edges。　As　they　slid　up　to　the　quays　and　dropped　their　metal　ramps；　squadrons　of　armour
rolled　onto　them。　The　noise　of　their　thrusters　filled　the　bay。
Marshals　directed　the　boarding　armour　to　their　stands；　lining　them　up。　An　entire　regimentstrength
could　be　swallowed　onto　one　raft。
Humming　like　monsters；　laden　VTRPs　gusted　out　into　the　open　sea。
“There’s　our　ride；”　said　LeGuin。
Viltry　nodded。　“Theda。　How　far；　do　you　think？”
LeGuin　consulted　his　chart　slate。
“About　three　hundred　kilometres　east。　Why？”
“Time　I　got　going；”　Viltry　said。
LeGuin　frowned。　“We’ll　miss　you；　Osk。”
“You　too。　It’s　been　quite　an　experience。”
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Viltry　shook　LeGuin　by　the　hand。
As　Viltry　got　down　off　the　tank；　Matredes　hugged　him；　and　Emdeen　slapped　his　arm。
“Good　luck！”　Viltry　shouted　as　the　Line　of　Death　began　to　roll　forward。
“And　to　you！”　yelled　back　LeGuin。
“The　Emperor　protects！”
LeGuin　said　something；　but　the　racing　engines　blotted　it　out。
Viltry　stood　on　the　hillside　for　a　while　as　the　slow　column　threaded　past　him　and　LeGuin’s　tank
was　out　of　sight。
Then　he　ran　down　the　grassy　bank　towards　the　coastal　highway；　and　began　to　flag　down　the
Munitorum　transports　speeding　east。
Theda　MAB　South；　16。10
As　soon　as　his　skids　settled　on　the　handstand；　Marquall　killed　the　fans　and　let　the　ground　take　the
fourteen　tonnes　of　serial　Nine…Nine　“Double　Eagle”。　He　sat　for　a　moment；　canopy　still　locked；　his
head　resting　back　against　the　seat　and　his　eyes　closed。　They’d　just　run　their　third　sortie　of　the　day；　a
snap　call　up　and　into　a　bomber　pack。　Brief；　bitter　fighting　had　followed。　Marquall　had　nearly　been
stung　twice；　on　both　occasions；　by　fighters　he　hadn’t　seen。
Racklae　knocked　on　the　window　and　Marquall　opened　his　eyes。　The　fitter　mimed　opening　the　lid
and　Marquall　nodded；　pulling　off　his　breather　and　goggles。
The　canopy　lifted　and　cool；　fumy　air　blew　in　across　Marquall’s　face。　It　let　in　the　roar　and　whine
of　the　field　too。
“Everything　all　right；　sir？”　Racklae　asked。
“Four…A；”　Marquall　replied　as　he　was　helped　clear；　and　had　his　suit　leads　unplugged。　“I　need　her
turned　around　quick。　We　could　go　up　again　before　evening。”
“Understood；　sir。”
“I　think　the　port　lascannon　needs　cleaning　or　refitting。　I　was　getting　an　odd　fire…pattern。”
“I’ll　see　to　it　sir。”
“Any　chance　of　rockets？”
Racklae　shook　his　head。　“Between　you　and　me；　sir；　munitions　are　getting　pretty　low。　We’re　okay
for　hard　rounds；　but　all　the　rack　weapons　are　going　to　the　Marauders。”
Marquall　left　the　fitters　to　their　work　and　walked　out　of　the　revetment　shelter。　At　the　mouth　of
the　hardstand　next　door；　Van　Tull　was　stripping　off　his　jacket　and　gloves。
“Nice　one；”　Marquall　said。　“I　saw　you　sting　that　Tormentor。”
“Thanks；”　said　Van　Tull。　“I　thought　the　bastard　was　going　to　get　past　me　for　a　moment。　Any
luck　yourself？”
Marquall　shook　his　head。
“I　thought　I　saw　you　on　a　Razor。”
“Yeah；　but　it　slipped　out　and　I　lost　it。”
“There’s　always　the　next　time；”　said　Van　Tull。
Zemmic　wandered　up　to　join　them。　His　lucky　charms　jingled　about　him　on　a　new　chain。　“What’s
that　about？”　he　asked；　gesturing　down　the　line　of　hardstands。
A　large　staff　limousine　was　approaching；　pulling　to　a　halt。　The　driver；　a　Navy　cadet；　got　out；
went　around　to　the　other　side；　and　opened　the　rear　door；　saluting。　A　figure　got　out。
“That’s　the　Apostles’　chief；　isn’t　it？”　asked　Van　Tull。
“Seekan；”　said　Marquall。
“What　the　hell　does　he　want？”　said　Zemmic。
They　watched　as　Seekan　crossed　to　number　three　stand。　Asche　was　just　dismounting　from　her
Bolt。　She　saluted　Seekan；　and　was　saluted　back。　Seekan　began　to　speak　and　handed　her　something。
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A　data…slate；　it　looked　like。　Even　from　a　distance；　they　could　see　the　strange；　startled　look　on
Asche’s　face。
“What’s　going　on？”　Zemmic　said。
Seekan　and　Asche　exchanged　salutes　again；　then　Seekan　shook　her　by　the　hand　and　returned　to
his　car。　As　it　carried　him　away　off　the　field　enclosure；　Asche　remained　where　she　was；　studying　the
slate。
Marquall；　Zemmic　and　Van　Tull　jogged　down　to　her。　Blansher　had　appeared；　and　Ranfre；
Cordiale　and　Del　Ruth　were　also　approaching。
“Larice？”　Zemmic　said。
She　glanced　up。　There　was　such　a　strange　look　in　her　eyes。　“Hey；　Zem。”
“What’s　going　on？　What　did　Seekan　want？”
“Me；”　she　said。
“What？”
She　looked　at　them　all　for　a　moment。　“You’re　not　going　to　believe　this…”　she　began。
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DAY　266
Theda　seafront；　06。02
Viltry’s　first　glimpse　of　Theda　City　was　from　the　cab　of　a　Munitorum　fleet　transport　in　the　small
hours　of　the　night。　It　was　the　first　time　he’d　set　eyes　on　it　since　the　morning　of　the　259th　when　he’d
taken　G　for　Greta　aloft　on　her　final　flight。　Things　had　changed。
In　the　dark；　from　many　kilometres　distant；　the　city　itself　was　invisible　because　of　black…out
regulations；　but　the　shape　of　it　was　defined　against　the　sky　by　the　ruddy　glow　of　firestorms
throbbing　in　its　heart。
“Holy　Throne…”　he’d　breathed。
“Told　you　it　was　bad；”　the　driver　had　said。
Viltry　had　made　the　journey　along　the　coast　overnight；　begging　lifts　from　a　series　of　transport
drivers。　There　was　activity　all　along　the　seaboard；　part　of　the　frenzy　of　evacuation。　Munitorum
transit　fleets　were　pouring　out　of　Theda　and　the　surrounding　towns；　laden　with　materiel　and
personnel　for　the　evacuation　ports；　and　then　streaming　back　to　depot　empty　for　another　run。　The　vast
night　sky　was　a　maelstrom　of　tracer；　flak　bursts　and　burner　trails。　At　Madenta；　trying　to　find　a　ride　to
hitch　amongst　the　chaos　of　traffic　in　the　town　centre；　Viltry　had　been　about　three　hundred　metres
from　a　bomb　strike　that　had　destroyed　a　templum；　nine　habs　and　a　machine　shop。　Everywhere　he
went；　he　could　hear　the　drone　of　the　Archenemy’s　engines　in　the　sky。
The　cargo…10　drove　into　Theda’s　outskirts　at　first　light；　stopping　at　several　Munitorum　or
Commissariat　checkpoints。　The　streets　were　deserted；　apart　from　other　military　traffic。　The　slowly
rising　light；　pale　and　thin；　revealed　a　dusty；　smoky　world。　They　passed　row　after　row　of　bombedplaces；
fire　control　teams　fought　with　blazing　tenements　and　hab　stacks　gripped　by　swirling
infernos。　Some　streets　were　closed。　Medicae　shuttles；　bells　clattering；　rushed　by。
Just　after　five　thirty；　they　reached　the　Old　Town　area。　Like　everywhere　else；　it　had　taken　a
pasting。　Viltry　had　a　clawing；　sick　feeling　in　his　chest。
“I’m　due　at　the　assembly　yards　in　Danzerplatz；”　the　driver　said。　“Any　good　to　you？”
“No。　Uh；　just　let　me　out　here。”
The　driver　pulled　the　truck　up　at　a　street　corner。
“Thanks；”　Viltry　said；　climbing　down。
“No　problem。　Good　luck　rejoining　your　unit。　Shoot　some　of　them　bastards　down　for　me。”
“I’ll　try。”
The　driver　nodded；　and　then　pulled　the　truck　away。
Viltry　began　to　walk。　His　tattered　flight　jacket　still　had　the　emergency　compass　sewn　into　the
cuff；　so　he　followed　the　needle　and　went　north。　It　took　him　about　thirty　minutes　to　skirt　up　through
the　ruins　of　the　Old　Town　to　the　seafront。
The　air　was　cooler　here；　fresher；　despite　the　cloying　smoke　that　wrapped　the　whole　city。　He
heard　the　strange　yet　familiar　sound　of　rushing　breakers；　the　clatter　of　pebbles。　He　smelled　the　sea。
How　ironic　that　a　smell；　so　recently　new；　so　alien　to　his　background；　should　now　be　so　evocative。
He　wandered　down　the　broad　seafront　road　for　a　while；　trying　to　get　his　bearings。　He　was　sure
he　should　be　able　to　see　the　piers。　Finally；　almost　by　accident；　he　realised　he　was　standing　by　the
familiar　entrance　arch。　There　was　the　chalkboard；　propped　up　against　the　ironwork　gate。　“Palace
Refreshments。　Table　service；　sea　views。”
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Beyond　the　arch；　there　was　nothing；　except　a　tangled　mess　of　black　iron　and　charred　wood
sprawled　out　into　the　s