Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第62部分

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Scalter　had　been　so　intent　on　his　damage　that　he’d　been　flying　straight　for　too　long。　A　mauve
Hell　Talon　came　sweeping　down　out　of　the　frothing　smoke　wash　above　and　started　to　fire。
Scalter　sat　down　in　his　armour　plating；　flinching　as　the　shots　went　by。　He　seemed　to　have　frozen。
Blansher　was　too　committed　to　a　pair　of　Razors　to　help　him。
Cordiale　came　out　of　the　north；　firing　heavily。　The　Talon　took　a　hit　or　two　in　its　rear　armour　and
forgot　all　about　Scalter。　It　dropped　low；　towards　the　sea；　running　to　escape。　Cordiale　stormed　after
it。
They　went　across　the　water　at　less　than　ten　metres；　kicking　up　wash　and　spray　with　their
thrusters。　The　Talon　slipped　back　and　forth；　around　atolls　and　cliffs；　determined　not　to　climb　and
thus　make　itself　a　target。　Cordiale　stuck　to　it；　banking　as　it　banked；　slicing　around　islets　and　surface
rocks。　They　came　around　a　tall；　sheer　cliff　in　a　hard　turn；　the　noise　of　their　engines　reflecting　oddly
off　the　cliff　face；　and　immediately　had　to　leap…frog　two　mass…barges　lying　at　anchor　in　the　cove。
Cordiale　missed　the　vox　masts　of　the　big　tubs　by　centimetres。　The　Talon　rushed　low　across　the
basin；　chased　by　Hydra　batteries　along　the　beach；　and　bent　right　around　the　shoreline　of　the　atoll。
Cordiale　steered　after　it；　standing　his　plane　on　its　starboard　wing。　He　laughed　as　he　saw　that　their
passing　rush　had　caused　seabirds　to　take　off　in　panic　out　of　the　rocks。
The　Talon　twisted　to　port；　skimming　over　a　pattern　of　low；　semi…submerged　islets。　Following；
Cordiale　heard　the　lock　tone　and　fired。
The　Talon　lurched　and　plunged　nose…down　into　the　rocks；　detonating　with　huge　force。　Cordiale
shot　past　it；　glancing　back　at　the　fireball　gleefully。
Travelling　at　seven　hundred　kilometres　an　hour；　his　plane　tore　into　another　flock　of　startled
seabirds　erupting　from　the　low　rocks。　Each　one　weighed　a　kilo　or　more；　and　they　shredded　his　nose
cone　and　front　plating　like　jack…hammers。　Two　annihilated　his　right　engine；　and　one　punched
through　his　canopy；　shattered　the　gunsight　and　hit　him　square　in　the　face；　driving　his　goggles　into
his　skull　and　snapping　his　neck　instantly。
Umbra　Eleven　hit　the　outer　line　of　the　rocks　and　disintegrated　in　a　blizzard　of　hull　plates；　cables
and　machine　parts。
Over　the　Midwinters；　10。45
Swinging　wide　for　home；　Jagdea’s　flight　had　come　up　on　a　Tormentor　wing　that　had　broken　from
the　thicker　fighting　and　was　heading　towards　the　Sea　of　Ezra。　They　harried　it　until　their　tanks　were
too　low。
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Gaining　altitude　for　Lucerna；　they　sighted　Marquall。
“Umbra　Eight；”　Jagdea　voxed。　“Where　the　hell　have　you　been？”
“Not　really　sure；　Lead；”　Marquall　responded。　“But　wherever　it　was；　there　was　an　awful　lot　of
planes　there。”
Lucerna　AB；　11。30
“Turn　them　around　as　quickly　as　you　can！”　Jagdea　said　as　she　jumped　down。　Her　four　had　brought
Marquall　back　with　them。　According　to　Operations　chatter；　Blansher’s　element　was　five　minutes
away。
“Yes；　ma’am！”　Racklae　replied。　Smoke　was　coming　out　from　under　Kaminsky’s　machine；　and
Racklae　yelled　at　a　deck　crewman　to　get　it　doused。　Turning　back　to　Jagdea；　he　indicated　the　trolleys
of　ammunition　at　the　hangar　side　waiting　to　be　loaded。
“We’ve　not　got　the　whole　of　our　last　order；　commander；”　he　said。　“I’ve　called　down　to　the　base
arsenal；　and　they　told　me　we’re　draining　the　magazines。　This　morning　so　far　they’ve　fetched　up　as
much　as　they　would　usually　in　eight　days。”
“They’ll　have　to　work　harder；”　Jagdea　said。
“It’s　not　that；　mamzel。　The　magazines　are　actually　emptying。　They’re　having　to　pull　munitions
supplies　that　came　in　on　the　barges　and　haven’t　been　unloaded　yet。　It’s　slowing　things　down。”
“I’ll　go　and　put　in　a　good　word；”　Jagdea　said；　heading　for　the　briefing　room。　As　she　walked；　she
turned　round　and　shouted；　“Pilots！　Make　sure　you　all；　I　repeat　all；　get　some　fluid　inside　yourselves！
Maybe　a　little　food　too；　if　you　can　stomach　it；　but　not　too　much。　Fluid　is　a　necessity。”
Marquall　dismounted　and　took　a　water　bottle　that　one　of　his　fitters　offered　him。　He　spat　out　the
first　mouthful；　trying　get　rid　of　the　thick　taste　of　rubber　his　mask　had　left　in　his　mouth。
“Running　better？”　Racklae　asked。
Marquall　nodded。　“Look　I　want　to　apologise　f—”
Racklae　shook　his　head。　“Least　said；　soonest　mended；　sir。”
“I　got　my　third；”　Marquall　said。
The　chief　fitter　grinned；　and　clapped　him　on　the　shoulder。　“There；　you　see？　What　jinx？”
In　the　briefing　room；　Jagdea　got　on　the　vox　to　the　armourers　and　had　to　listen　while　someone
told　her　the　same　story　she’d　heard　from　Racklae。
“Just　take　a　look　up　at　the　sky　and　see　if　that　helps　you　any；”　she　said　and　hung　up。
While　she’d　been　making　the　call；　Jagdea　had　been　gazing　across　at　the　main　auspex。　It　looked
more　like　the　climate　plot　of　a　tropical　storm　than　aircraft　tracking。
Viltry　came　in；　put　down　his　helmet　and　came　to　look　at　the　screen　too。
“Operations　say　they’re　breaking　off；”　Viltry　said。
“Operations　can　kiss　my　arse；　they’re　not　up　there。”
“No；”　Viltry　pointed　to　the　southern　sections　of　the　display。　“I　can　sort　of　see　what　they　mean。
Overall。　That　was　a　huge　wave　pattern　they　threw　at　us　at　dawn。　The　sky　may　be　full　of　machines
and　plenty　of　fighting；　but　a　lot　of　that’s　involving　hostiles　that　are　turning　back　for　home；　fuel　out；
or　coming　back　from　target　if　they　made　it。　This　whole　area　here；　see？”
He　tapped　a　section　east　of　Zophos。　“That’s　all　medium　bombers；　all　going　south。　The　actual
wave　has　broken。”
“The　first　wave；”　Jagdea　said。　“A　mass　onslaught　like　this　is　all　or　nothing。　They’ll　be　coming
again　as　soon　as　they’ve　rearmed　and　refuelled。”
Viltry　nodded。　“Of　course。　I　have　a　feeling　they’re　going　to　keep　this　up　until　they’ve　crushed
us。　The　Archenemy　is　many　things。　Subtle　is　not　on　the　list。”
“Very　true；”　said　Jagdea。　“We　go　up　as　soon　as　we　can。　Hunt　stragglers；　and　steal　some　altitude
before　the　second　mass　comes　in。”
“I’ll　see　if　Racklae　can　scare　up　some　rockets；”　Viltry　said。
186
“You’ll　be　lucky；”　Jagdea　laughed。
“But　with　rockets；　we　could　seek　out　a　mass…carrier　and　have　a　go。　I　don’t　care　how　many　bats
they’ve　got；　they　can’t　refit　and　refuel　without　a　carrier。”
“Yes；”　said　Jagdea。　She　looked　up　at　the　log　board　that　the　fitters　were　keeping。　Times　of
launch；　times　home；　damage；　work　done。　Ranfre’s　log　line　was　ominously　blank。
“Ranfre？”　Viltry　asked；　guessing　what　she　was　thinking。
She　nodded。　“Hasn’t　been　seen　since　about　six…thirty。　Even　flying　to　conserve　fuel；　there’s　no
way　he’s　still　in　the　air。”
“Maybe　he　put　down　at　another　base？”　said　Viltry。　“Or…　ejected…　or…”
She　appreciated　Viltry　was　trying。　She　picked　up　a　stylus　and　wrote　“Missing”　next　to　Ranfre’s
name。
“It’s　something　I’ve　been　thinking　about　a　lot　in　the　last　few　days；”　Viltry　said　quietly。　“You
know…　death；　I　mean。”
“You　and　everyone　else；”　said　Jagdea。
He　shook　his　head。　“No；　in　particular。　As　far　as　the　Imperium　is　concerned；　Oskar　Viltry　is　dead。
I’m　just　a…　a　scrap　of　paper；　a　pending　number　to　be　assigned。”
“So？”
“Will　you　promise　me　something；　Bree？”
“Yes；”　she　said　immediately。
“You　haven’t　heard　what　it　is　yet。　I’m　here；　at　your　side；　proud　to　be　a　member　of　Umbra。　And
that’s　how　it’ll　be　until　the　end。”
“I　know；”　she　said。　Few　men　were　as　loyal　and　committed　as　Oskar　Viltry。
“But　when　this　is　done。　When　we　win　this　fight。　I　don’t　mean　today；　I　mean　however　long　it
takes…　will　you　forget　you　ever　saw　me？”
“What　are　you　talking　about？”　she　laughed。　Then　she　saw　in　his　eyes　he　was　entirely　serious。
Viltry　took　the　paper　registration　docket　the　Munitorum　had　given　him　out　of　his　pocket　and
smoothed　it　flat。
“Forget　you　ever　knew　that　Oskar　Viltry　came　back　from　the　desert　and　flew　with　you。　List　this
pending　number　as　missing　in　action。　Let　me　disappear　here；　on　Enothis；　when　the　fighting’s　done。”
She　blinked。　“Is　that　what　you　want；　Viltry？”
“Yes。　Not　just　me。　There’s　someone…”　he　paused。　“There　will　be　lives　to　rebuild　here；　after　the
war。”
She　thought　about　it　for　a　moment；　then　picked　up　the　paper。
“I　promise；”　she　said。
Out　in　the　hangar；　as　the　fitters　worked　feverishly；　Darrow　sat　in　silence；　his　back　against　the
wall。　His　hands　were　no　longer　shaking。　They　were　completely　steady。　What　was　shaking　now　was
inside　him；　some　deep　core　part　that　had　been　rocked　and　rattled　and　squeezed　and　slammed　and
wrenched。　In　one　morning。　No　clear　image　remained　to　him　of　the　day’s　fighting。　Just　a　blur。　A
smell　of　fuel　and　fyceline。　A　sound　of　thunder。
Nearby；　he　heard　some　of　the　ground　crew　cheering　as　they　added　a　third　stripe　to　Marquall’s
plane。　Marquall　looked　triumphant。　Even　in　the　short　time　he’d　known　him；　Darrow　had　been　able
to　tell　that　Marquall　was　desperate　for　glory。
Darrow　thought　for　a　moment；　and　realised；　to　his　shame；　that　he　couldn’t　precisely　remember
how　many　kills　he’d　got　himself。　He　tried　to　picture　them　all。　The　fluke　the　day　before；　then　the
bombers…
He　realised　that　his　tally　was　now　five。　He　was　an　ace。
Darrow　decided　not　to　tell　Marquall。
Buzzers　sounded。　Blansher’s　element　came　in　at　last；　shrieking　down　through　the　north　entry。
Darrow　l