Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第6部分

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tell　his　worth。　He　had　the　classic　saturnine　good　looks　of　a　Phantine　male；　and　a　white；　toothy　grin
that　people　either　found　winningly　charming　or　unpleasantly　cocky。
Umbra　Flight　strode　off　across　the　apron　towards　the　hangar；　followed　by　another　flight　of
aviators　spilling　down　from　a　second　transport。　Jagdea　took　a　glance　back　at　their　own　ride。　In　the
cab；　the　Munitorum　driver　nodded　briefly　to　her。　She　could　clearly　see　how　one　half　of　his　face　was
lost　in　burn　scarring；　as　if　soft；　pink　rose　petals　had　been　plastered　across　his　skin。
They　walked　into　the　vast　drome　hangar。　The　air　inside　smelled　cold　and　damp；　with　a　tang　of
promethium。　The　interior　space　had　been　cleared；　except　for　a　lone　Shrike　under　tarps　in　a　corner；
and　a　stage　of　flak…boards　supported　by　empty　munition　crates　had　been　raised　along　the　west　wall。
A　chart　stand　and　a　hololithic　displayer　had　been　set　up　on　the　staging。
A　group　of　more　than　twenty　aviators　was　already　waiting　inside。　They　stood　near　the　stage；
their　kit　bags　at　their　feet。　Like　the　men　who　had　come　off　the　second　truck；　they　were　Navy　pilots；
wearing　grey　flight　armour　and　black　coats。　Some　of　them　sported　augmetic　eyes。　They　greeted　their
colleagues　from　the　second　truck；　but　both　groups　looked　dubiously　at　the　Phantine　as　they　came　in；
and　stayed　apart　from　them　in　segregated　groups。　Jagdea　regarded　them　casually　as　Umbra　Flight
dropped　their　bags　and　made　a　huddle。　The　Navy　fliers　kept　glancing　their　way。　Jagdea　knew　the
Phantine　Corps　was　unusual；　and　that　set　them　apart　from　the　regular　Imperial　aviators。　It
undoubtedly　would　mean　rivalry　and　a　pecking　order；　she　accepted。
They　were　tough…looking　brutes；　sturdy　and　thickset；　with　pale　skins　and　cropped　hair。　Most　of
their　flight…suits　were　reinforced　with　plating　sections　or　coats　of　chainmail；　and　their　heavy　leather
coats　were　often　fur…trimmed。　Many　had　ugly　facial　scars。　Several　displayed　medal　ribbons　and
other　honour　sashes。
“Sixty…Third　Imperial　Fighter　Wing；”　Blansher　whispered　discreetly　in　her　ear。　“The　Sundogs；
as　they　like　to　be　styled。　I　believe　that　one　there；　the　big　fellow　with　the　flight　commander　pins；　is
Leksander　Godel。　Forty　kills　last　count。”
“Yeah；　I’ve　heard　of　him；”　she　answered　lightly。
“The　other　bunch　are　the　409　Raptors；　I　believe；”　Blansher　went　on；　“which　would　make　that
unassuming　fellow　there　Wing　Leader　Ortho　Blaguer。”
“The　same？”
“The　very　same。　One　hundred　and　ten　kills。　See；　he’s　looking　at　us。”
“Then　let’s　look　somewhere　else；”　Jagdea　said　and　turned　away。
“Orbis　at　your　six！”　Pilot　Officer　Zemmic　suddenly　cried　out　loudly；　his　voice　echoing　round　the
drome。　Dismounting　from　another　transport　just　now　drawn　up　outside；　a　dozen　more　Phantine　fliers
were　marching　into　the　hangar。　Jagdea　felt　instant　relief　at　the　sight　of　familiar　faces。　Orbis　Flight；
comrades　and　friends。　At　the　head　of　them　strolled　their　commander；　Wilhem　Hayyes。
The　two　wings　clustered　together　and　greeted　each　other。
“Nice　of　you　to　join　us；”　Jagdea　grinned　as　she　shook　Hayyes　by　the　hand。
“Nice　of　you　to　wait　for　us；”　Hayyes　replied。　“I　trust　there　are　still　some　bats　flying　for　us　to
hunt。”
A　hush　suddenly　fell。　A　final　group　of　aviators；　all　Navy　men；　had　just　entered　the　hangar；
making　a　late　entrance　that　seemed　to　Jagdea　calculatedly　theatrical。　There　were　only　eight　of　them。
Their　armoured　flight…suits　were　matt　black　and　their　suede　jackets　cloud…white。　They　wore　no
insignia　or　rank　markings　whatsoever；　except　silver　Imperial　aquilae　at　their　collars。
“Holy　crap！”　Jagdea　heard　Del　Ruth　whisper。　“The　Apostles！”
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The　Apostles；　indeed。　The　celebrated　wing　of　aces；　the　very　elite。　Jagdea　wondered　which　one
was　Quint；　ace　of　aces；　which　one　Gettering。　The　tall　one；　was　that　Seekan　or　Harlsson？　Which　one
was　Suhr？
There　was　no　time　to　ask　Blansher。　Escorted　by　a　dozen　aides　and　tactical　officers；　an　imposing
figure　in　the　uniform　of　a　fleet　admiral　came　in　and　took　the　stage。　It　was　Ornoff　himself。
All　eyes　turned　to　him。
“Aviators；”　he　began；　his　voice　soft　but　carrying。　“At　18。00　yesterday　evening；　I　met　with　Lord
Militant　Humel　in　the　War　Ministry　at　Enothopolis。　The　lord　militant；　as　you　must　be　aware；　has
been　prosecuting　the　war　here　on　Enothis　for　the　last　nine　months；　in　the　name　of　Warmaster
Macaroth　and　the　God…Emperor　of　us　all。”
“The　Emperor　protects！”　one　of　the　Apostles　said　smartly；　and　everyone　eagerly　echoed　the
words。
Ornoff　nodded　appreciatively。　“I　hope　he　does；　Captain　Gettering。　In　the　meantime；　we　will　have
to　do。　I　presented　the　formal　orders　sent　to　me　by　the　Warmaster　to　Lord　Militant　Humel；　and　at
18。30　hours　precisely；　the　Lord　Militant　formally　handed　command　of　the　Enothis　theatre　to　me。”
Spontaneous　applause　broke　out　across　the　hangar　floor。
“For　now；　the　land　war　on　Enothis　is　done。　Now　the　air　war　begins。”
Theda　MAB　South；　07。46
Major　Frans　Scalter　glanced　at　the　co…pilot　alongside　him　in　the　cramped　bubble　canopy　of　the
thundering　Cyclone；　got　a　thumbs…up；　then　turned　to　wave　the　ground　crew　off。
He　adjusted　his　mask。　“Operations；　Operations。　This　is　Seeker　One。　Seeker　Flight　is　ready　for
departure。　Awaiting　permission。”
Scalter　had　his　hand　on　the　wheel…brake　lever。
“Seeker　One；　Operations。　Roll　them　out。　Main　is　open。　Fly　true　and　may　the　Emperor　protect
you。”
“Thank　you；　Operations。　Seeker　Flight；　on　my　lead。”
Scalter　released　the　brake；　and　opened　the　throttle　gently。　Bucking；　the　twin…engined　plane
began　to　creep　out　off　the　hardstand　towards　the　main　runway。　Its　wingmen　followed。　The　combined
roar　of　the　six　engines　resounded　across　the　field。
Scalter　rolled　to　the　start　position；　and　made　a　final　adjustment　to　the　trim。　At　his　side；　Artone
opened　the　radiators　and　made　the　fuel　mix　a　little　richer　for　a　lusty　take…off。
“Seeker　Flight—”　Scalter　began。
Artone　suddenly　held　up　a　hand。
“What？”
“Red　flag！”　said　Artone　urgently；　pointing　down　the　field。
“Throne！　What　now？”　snarled　Scalter。　“Operations；　this　is　Seeker　One。　We’ve　got　a　red　flag。
Please　confirm　our　clearance。”
There　was　a　pause。　Then　the　vox　fizzled。　“Negative　clearance；　negative　clearance；　Seeker　Flight。
Abort　now　and　clear　main。　Roll　off　to　revetments　fifteen　through　seventeen　and　stand　down。
Repeat—Negative　clearance；　abort　and　clear　main。”
“What　the　hell’s　going　on？”　Scalter　demanded。
“Wounded　birds；”　the　vox　replied。　“Wounded　birds　inbound。”
Twenty　kilometres　short　of　Theda　MAB　South；　07。46
They　could　see　the　spread　of　the　field；　slightly　hazy　in　the　morning　light。　Guide　paths　were　popping
off。　The　knocking　from　behind　Darrow　was　now　constant。
Major　Heckel　called　in　the　fuel　load　from　each　Cub　in　turn。　All　were　miserably　low。　Darrow
could　only　answer　full　as　he　had　no　other　reading。　Hunt　Sixteen　had　begun　to　dribble　smoke　in　the
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last　ten　minutes；　and　its　pilot　reported　rapidly　dropping　hydraulic　pressure。　Hunt　Sixteen　had　taken
at　least　two　hits　to　the　belly　during　the　brawl　over　the　mountains。
“Hunt　Flight；　this　is　Hunt　Leader。　Sixteen　and　Four　have　landing　priority。　Let　them　go　in　first
and　we’ll　follow　as　soon　as　they’re　down。　Confirm。”
Darrow　stretched　his　shoulders　against　the　harness。　Heckel　wanted　Sixteen　down　before　it　died；
and　he　wanted　Darrow　down　as　quickly　because　he　was　most　likely　flying　on　empty。
“After　you；　Hunt　Sixteen；”　Darrow　voxed；　allowing　the　Wolfcub　to　come　around　ahead　of　him。
The　Cub’s　streamer　of　smoke　pulsed　clear　then　white；　clear　then　white；　like　a　ticker　tape。
The　knocking　grew　yet　more　insistent。　Darrow　began　his　approach。
Theda　MAB　South；　07。47
“Your　fighter　wings；”　Ornoff　told　them；　“are　five　of　the　first　to　arrive　on　station　here　along　the
southern　coast。　In　the　next　seventy…two　hours；　a　total　of　fifty…eight　wings　of　the　Imperial　Navy…
and　its　affiliates…”　he　added；　with　a　nod　to　the　Phantine；　“will　be　deployed　at　airfields　along　the
entire　littoral。　Forty…two　fighter　wings；　sixteen　bomber　flights。　To　say　that　you　will　be　supporting
the　local　Commonisstatement。　You　will　form　the　front　line　in　the　air。
The　stalwart　Commonwealth　forces　who　have；　let　me　remind　you；　been　fighting　this　theatre　for
months　now；　will　take　a　supportive　role。　God…Emperor　willing；　this　may　allow　them　precious　time　to
repair；　refit；　recrew　and　rest。”
He　turned　to　the　chart　behind　him。　“I　don’t　need　to　tell　you　to　familiarise　yourself　with　the
topography；　channel　use；　and　the　location　of　friendly　fields。　Encryption　codes　will　be　changed　on　a
daily　basis。　The　Archenemy　is　listening。”
Ornoff　paused　and　slid　his　open　hand　down　the　chart　pensively。　“The　situation　here　is　grave。
Lord　Militant　Humel’s　land　forces；　ably　supported　by　the　Commonwealth　armies；　almost　succeeded
in　driving　the　Archenemy　off　this　world。　However；　in　the　last　two　months；　fortunes　have　reversed
disastrously。　The　Archenemy；　whose　remaining　surface　stronghold　is　around　the　Southern　Trinity
Hives—here—has　resupplied　in　great　force　as　part　of　the　counter…offensive　launched　last　year
through　the　Khan　Group　as　a　whole。　The　Lord　Militant’s　land　forces　are　now　in　harried　retreat
northwards　through　the　Interior　Desert…　this　region；　here。　Some　have　a