Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第26部分

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“Don’t　get　many　of　your　sort　down　this　way；”　LeGuin　joked。
“You’re　on　the　home　haul？”
“Oh；　yes。　Part　of　Humel’s　great　land　armada。　We’ve　been　to　the　gates　of　the　Trinity　Hives；　and
now　we’re　marching　home。”
“What　was　it　like？”
“Trinity？　A　mess。　A　bloody　mess。　We　thought　we’d　roll　in　and　take　the　place　in　a　week。　They
had　other　ideas。　And　serious　reinforcements　from　offworld。　They　slaughtered　the　first　waves。　Along
the　farm　terraces；　the　commercial　highway；　the　vapour　mills。　The　sky　was　black。　Fire　everywhere。
You’ve　never　seen　anything　like　it。”
LeGuin　wiped　a　sand　midge　off　his　cheek。　“So　we　fell　back；　and　that　turned　into　a　retreat。　Right
back　up　through　the　desert；　hunted　all　the　way。　I　tell　you　this。　Whatever　kind　of　hell　we　found　at　the
Trinity　Gates；　it　was　nothing　compared　to　the　hell　we’ve　been　grinding　through　out　here　ever　since。
Heat。　Low　water；　low　fuel；　low　ammo；　low　food。　Breakdowns。　Sickness。　Men　dying　of　untreated
wounds。　Murderous　terrain。　Constant　attacks。　There　were　times　I　thought　we’d　never　make　it。”
“There’s　still　a　way　to　go；”　Viltry　said。
“I　know；　but　we’re　in　the　mountains　now。　Two　days；　Emperor　willing；　and　we’ll　be　breaking　flat
ground　on　the　north　side。”
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“Some　elements　have　already；”　Viltry　said。　“Before　I…　before　I　left　last　time；　there　was　news。
Convoys　entering　the　Lida　Valley；　and　up　into　the　Peninsula。　I　think　some　may　have　cut　through　to
the　west　too。”
“That’s　good；”　said　LeGuin。　“That’s　good　to　hear。　Throne　of　Earth；　we’re　not　done　yet。”
“Will　you　go　back？”　Viltry　asked。
“What　do　you　mean？”
“The　air　operation　I　was　part　of。　Serious　amounts　of　air　power；　mostly　Navy；　brought　in　to　keep
the　enemy　busy　and　slow　him　down。　To　buy　you　men　time　to　get　home。　But　we　can’t　hold　them　off
indefinitely。　I　mean；　that’s　the　point。　We’re　just　flying　a　desperate　holding　action。　There’s　still　a　war
to　win　here。”
“Then　we’ll　just　have　to　win　it；　won’t　we？”　said　LeGuin。　He　got　to　his　feet。　“Come　on。　Day’s
breaking。　We　should　get　started。　Get　a　good　lead　before　the　real　heat　settles　in。”
He　woke　his　crew；　who　were　sound　asleep　in　the　shadows　of　the　tank。　Only　in　the　cool　of　the
night　was　it　possible　to　get　some　rest。　He　sent　them　off　to　rouse　the　other　crews。　All　down　the
narrow　pass；　armour　and　transporters　were　parked　and　silent。
Engines　began　to　turn　over。　Voices　lifted　into　the　air。
Another　day　in　the　great　retreat　had　begun。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　08。43
In　full　flight　armour；　Van　Tull；　Del　Ruth　and　Marquall　arrived　for　the　preliminary　briefing；　which
Jagdea　held　around　the　camp　table　outside　her　habitent。　It　was　a　fresh；　bright　day；　with　a　breeze
coming　in　off　the　lake；　and　strong　shafts　of　sunlight　beaming　down　through　the　shimmer　nets；
making　everything　a　checkerboard　of　light　and　dark。　Blansher　came　along；　and　brought　a　pitcher　of
caffeine　from　the　commissary。　For　some　reason；　Larice　Asche　turned　up　too；　dressed　in　flight
baggies　and　a　vest　top。　She　had　a　smile　about　her；　but　Jagdea　didn’t　really　give　her　presence　much
thought。
She　waited　to　begin　until　08。45　had　ticked　by。　Right　on　cue；　they　heard　the　simultaneous　thump
of　three　ramp　launches。　The　Raptors　had　first　slot　that　morning；　punching　up　into　the　blue。
“Order　of　the　day　is　combat　air　patrols　running　on　staggered　overlap；”　Jagdea　said。　“Three
Raptors；　three　of　us；　and　so　on；　through　the　day；　six　machines　aloft　at　any　time。　That　means　you’ll
probably　be　up　again　before　sunset。　It’s　going　to　be　tiring；　so　keep　it　steady。　Overnight　picture　is
this：　the　enemy　is　still　hitting　the　coast　hard。　The　word　from　the　Peninsula　is　bad。　They　hit　Theda　for
the　first　time　yesterday。　But　unless　a　bombing　formation　comes…into　our　catchment；　that’s　not　our
concern　right　now。　Large　sections　of　the　land　retreat　are　starting　to　come　clear　of　the　mountains。　In
the　next　few　days；　a　major　evac　is　going　to　gear　up；　getting　them　across　to　the　northern　coast。
Recons　show　several　of　those　columns　coming　this　way；　intending　to　cross　the　Saroja　west　of　Gocel。
They　are　being　hunted。”
“Land　or　air？”　asked　Van　Tull。
“Both。　Mission　profile　is　threefold。　If　you　locate　a　friendly　column；　make　it　the　epicentre　of　your
patrol。　Stay　with　it；　give　it　what　protection　it　needs　while　fuel　lasts。　If　you　sight　hostiles；　engage　and
prosecute。　If　you　identify　enemy　land　forces；　you　may　also　engage。　You’ll　be　carrying　rockets　for
that　purpose。　Targets　of　opportunity；　Umbra。　Get　out　there　and　see　what　needs　doing。”
“What　if　we　find　an　enemy　carrier？”　asked　Del　Ruth。
“Use　your　head。　Get　a　fix　and　get　out。　We’ll　call　in　Marauders。　Likewise；　if　you　find　a　bombing
formation　up　there；　or　you’re　outnumbered　more　than　two　to　one；　get　on　the　vox　and　yell　for
support。　I　expect　heroism；　not　stupidity。”
She　paused。　“Questions？　No？　Good；　let’s　go。”
Jagdea　and　Blansher　followed　the　three　pilots　to　their　birds。　Jagdea　saw　how　Larice　Asche　hung
around　Marquall；　laughing　with　him。　At　the　edge　of　Nine…Nine’s　pad；　Asche　kissed　Marquall　hard。
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“Looks　like　Larice　has　made　another　kill；”　said　Blansher。
“Marquall？　That’s　a　surprise。”
“Not　really。　His　first　confirmed；　some　heroics。　He’s　hot　stuff　right　now。　She　always　goes　for
that。”
“She　ever　go　for　you？”　Jagdea　asked。
“A　gentleman　is　always　discreet；”　Blansher　replied。
“Oh；　what’s　the　matter；　Mil？　A　little　miffed　you　never　caught　her　eye？　What　is　it；　an　age　thing？”
He　smiled　at　her　tolerantly。　“If　you　must　know；　she　hit　on　me　about　eighteen　months　ago。　The
Urdesh　tour。　That　afternoon　I　splashed　those　three　Talons。”
“What　happened？”
“She　had　me　in　her　sights；　tone　lock。　But　I　broke；　rolled　out　and　got　home　safely。”
“She　not　your　type？”
“She’s　perfectly　lovely。　It’s　her　motivation　that　doesn’t　appeal。”
A　hooter　sounded。　Marquall　was　ready　to　go。　They　moved　in　behind　the　blast　shields。
Racklae　closed　the　canopy　and　shot　Marquall　a　grin。　Clamped　into　his　mask　and　helmet；
Marquall　nodded　back。　He　adjusted　his　air…mix　and　settled　back。　Throne；　how　he　hated　ramp
launches。　He　felt　sweat　trickle　inside　his　suit。　He　watched　the　diode　counter　marking　down。　Systems
on。　Hypergolic　intermix　valves　open。　Operations　chatter　on　the　vox。　Rocket　was　primed。
Buzzer。　Five　seconds。　The　shimmer　nets　began　to　crank　open；　revealing　the　soaring　blue　sky。
Three　seconds。　Thumb　on　the　fire　stud。　Two。
With　a　crackling；　gut…shaking　roar；　Del　Ruth　fired　into　the　air；　then　Van　Tull。　Then…
Marquall　looked　around　in　dismay。　He’d　pressed　the　stud。　He　was　sure　he　had。　He　pressed　it
again。　Nothing。　He　swore。
“Umbra　Eight；　status？”
“Malfunction！”　he　called　back。　“Restart…”
Again；　nothing。　Red　runes　suddenly　lit　up　across　his　instrumentation。　A　warning　tone　sounded。
“Crap！”　Marquall　snarled。
“Say　again？　Status？”
“Rocket　malfunction！”
“Understood；　Umbra　Eight。　Observe　emergency　procedures。　Stabilise　your　intermix　and　activate
suppression　jets。”
“Yes；　Operations。”
He　hit　several　switches；　disarming　his　weapons　and　payload；　sealing　his　tanks　and　injecting　a
neutralising　chemical　flow　into　the　rocket　tanks　so　that　the　primed　and　volatile　chemical　propellants
couldn’t　accidentally　light　or　trigger　late。　It　would　take　hours　to　wash　the　tanks　out　and　recharge
them。
“Umbra　Eight　made　safe；”　he　voxed。
Only　then　did　the　fitters　emerge　and　hurry　to　the　plane。　Inspection　hatches　were　opened；　cables
hitched　in　to　drain　off　fuel　via　the　tank　cocks。　A　pooved　in　to
unload　the　wing…mounts　and　stow　them　in　hardened　caissons。
A　ladder　went　up　at　the　machine’s　side。
Marquall　popped　the　canopy。　“Thanks　for　frigging　nothing；　Nine…Nine；”　he　hissed；　and　hauled
himself　out。
atting；　Racklae　was　beside　himself。
“I’m　so　sorry；　sir；　I’m　so　sorry。　We　thought　she　was　four…A。　Not　a　sign　of　anything　wrong。”
“Jinxes　don’t　show　up　on　your　diagnostics；　do　they？”　Marquall　said　bitterly。　He　could　see
Racklae　was　mortified。
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His　fitters；　however；　were　not。　Many　were　trying　to　hide　their　laughter。　Nearby；　fitters　from　the
409th；　and　other　base　personnel；　were　not　even　bothering　to　conceal　their　amusement。　His　face
burning；　Marquall　heard　mocking　laughter。　There　was　nothing　more　amusing；　apparently；　than　a
cocksure　young　pilot；　on　his　first　combat　sortie；　in　a　newly　and　boldly　decorated　bird；　getting　his
pride　punctured。
He　was　a　laughing　stock。
He　strode　off　the　pad。
“Bad　luck；　Marquall；”　Jagdea　said。　“We’ll　get　you　up　again　this　afternoon。”
“Yes；　mamzel；”　he　snapped；　walking　past　her。
He　went　towards　Asche；　who　was　watching　the　farce。　There　was　laughter　in　the　air　still。
Marquall　spread　his　hands　in　a　wide　shrug。
“What　can　I　say？　How　crap　is　this？　Maybe　we　can　catch　that　breakfast　together　after　all。”
Larice　Asche　stared　at　him　contemptuously。　“Another　time；　killer；”　she　said；　and　marched　away
towards　the　camp。
Over　the　forests；　09。02
Kitting　up　fast；　as　if　it　was　a　snap　call；　Jagdea　lifted　her　waiting　Bolt　off　its　matt　on　a　standard
vector　launch；　and　climbed　to　join　Del　Ruth　and　Van　Tull；　who　were　in　a　holding　pattern　as　per
Operations’　advice。
“Three；　Six？　Umbra　Lead。　Sorry　for　the　delay。　Marquall　suffered　a　misfire　and　he’s　out。　So
you’ll　have　to　make　do　with　me。”
“No　problem；　Lead；”　Van　Tull　voxed。
“Always　a　pleasure；　mamzel；”　Del　Ruth　came　back。
“Let’s　get　on　with　the　game；”　Jagdea　said。　Serial　Zero…Two　felt　fine；　loose　and　finessed　despite
the　unexpected　scramble。　“Let’s　make　our　level　four　thousand；　cruise　speed；　turning　one…one…nine。”
“Got　that；　Lead。”
“Understood。”
“Umbra　Three；　take　the　point。”
“Four…A；　Lead；”　Van　Tull　voxed　back。
They　formed　a　flat　V　as　they　climbed　hard；　with　Van　Tull　at　the　apex；　Jagdea　at　his　port　eight。
The　air　was　clear　and　visibility　generous；　but　it　was　still　cold　enough　for　them　to　be　making　vapour
from　wingtips　and　exhausts。　Auspex　showed　nothing　in　the　sky；　except　the　three　Raptors　sixty
kilometres　east。
Jagdea　felt　uncomfortable。　She　hadn’t　expected　to　be　flying　so　soon；　not　before　midday；　given
the　original　schedule。　She’d　eaten　a　full　breakfast　and　was　still　digesting。　Pressure　was　doing
nauseous　things　to　her　guts。　She　tweaked　the　air…mix　and　felt　a　little　better。
They　cruised　for　an　hour；　snagging　a　wide　arc　eastwards；　until　the　thickness　of　the　forest　cover
petered　away　and　they　were　out　across　the　scrublands　of　the　sierra　that　marked　the　hinterland
between　rainforest　and　desert。　The　view　was　huge。　Sundogs　from　the　bright　daylight　hovered　in　the
canopy　lense。　Open；　coarse　land　slipped　by　underneath　them；　scabbed　with　rocks；　thistle；　cactus
trees。
“I　have　a　hard　metal　return；　point　two　west；　four　kilometres；”　Van　Tull　voxed。　“It’s　cold。”
“Let’s　check　it；”　Jagdea　replied。　They　turned　tight；　pulling　a　quarter　G；　but　it　was　enough　for
Jagdea　to　feel　a　twinge　of　cramp　in　her　stomach。
“You　okay；　One？”　Del　Ruth　called。
“Four…A；”　Jagdea　replied。
“Little　late　on　the　turn　there；　s’all　I　was　wondering。”
“Too　much　breakfast；”　Jagdea　said。
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They　came　up　on　the　contact；　and　made　a　low　pass。　Straggled　out　over　the　ragged　crest　of　a　dune
sea　basin；　two　Imperial　tanks　and　four　troop　carriers；　silent　and　still。　No　sign　of　damage。　Some
hatches　were　open。　Auspex　showed　no　heat　sources。