Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第32章

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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。　No　engines；　no　life。
“They’re　dead；”　Van　Tull　voxed。
“Let’s　come　around　again；”　Jagdea　said。
They　banked　west；　and　came　in　a　second　time；　lower　now；　throttles　idling　so　they　were　almost
gliding　in。　A　lingering　look。　Jagdea　saw　how　the　wind…blown　sands　had　begun　to　cover　the
machines。　She　saw　what　could　have　been　a　body；　a　lump　in　the　dust　beside　one　of　the　carriers。
The　enemy　hadn’t　done　this；　or　rather；　it　hadn’t　done　this　directly。　This　was　not　the　aftermath　of
an　air　strike　or　an　ambush。　This　was　extinction　brought　on　by　the　unforgiving　desert。　What　had　they
run　out　of？　Fuel？　Water？　Either　one　would　have　killed　them。　Jagdea　supposed　it　had　been　fuel　first。
Grinding　to　a　halt；　dry　and　gritty；　power　gone。　Then　heat　and　thirst。　Had　any　of　them　tried　to　walk？
The　bodies　would　never　be　found　now。
How　miserable。　How　pointless。　Had　they　known　how　close　they’d　come？　Another　sixty
kilometres；　and　they’d　have　reached　the　forest　line。　She　hoped　they　hadn’t。　Death　was　one　thing。
Death　tormented　by　the　knowledge　that　salvation　was　just　out　of　reach…
The　vox　burbled；　snapping　her　alert。
“Umbra；　Umbra。　Assist　request　from　Raptor　Flight；　urgent！”
“Coordinates；　please；”　Jagdea　replied。　The　squirted　data　flashed　up　on　her　main　display。
“Received；　Operations。　We　are　inbound；　nine　minutes。”
They　banked　away　and　started　to　climb；　opening　their　throttles。
“Punch　it；”　Jagdea　said。
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　09。31
“Bites　still　bothering　you？”
Marquall；　sitting　by　the　lake　shore；　glanced　up。　It　was　the　priest；　Kautas。　The　brisk　inshore　wind
tugged　at　his　blue　vestments。
“I　was　under　the　impression　you　scarcely　cared；”　Marquall　replied。
The　ayatani　shrugged。　“I　never　asked　for　this。　Actually；　I’m　not　sure　what　it　was　I　asked　for。　Not
this；　anyway。　But　it　is　my　lot。　I　am　reminded　by　the　regular　dispatches　from　my　church　that　I　have　a
job　to　do。　A　calling。　So　try　me。”
“You　seem　very　jolly　this　morning。”
Kautas　sat　down　beside　Marquall。　“An　illusion；　I　assure　you。　I’m　the　very　same　noxious