Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第14章

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Lightning；　the　exhilarating　rates　of　its　climb　and　dive；　the　darting　grace　of　its　turns。　The
Thunderbolt　was　almost　half　as　heavy　again　and；　at　lower　speeds；　particularly　climbing；　it　felt　as　if　it
barely　had　the　power　to　lift　its　massively　armoured　body。　But　it　was　heavy　and　robust；　and　could
soak　up　the　sort　of　punishment　that　would　send　a　Lightning　fluttering　to　its　doom　like　a　moth。　It　had
longer　legs　too；　and　a　snout…full　of　killware。　Where　the　Lightning　was　a　playful　ambush…cat；　the
Thunderbolt　was　a　full…grown　carnodon。　Blansher　had　once　said　that　a　pilot　flew　the　Lightning　for
the　joy　of　flying；　and　the　Thunderbolt　for　the　joy　of　killing。　That　seemed　about　right　to　Jagdea。　She
adored　her　Bolt。　It　was　muscular；　indomitable；　responsive。
Except　on　days　like　today。　The　port　fan　was　simply　not　running　clean。　There　was　nothing　on　the
display；　but　she　could　feel　it；　something　in　the　rhythm　of　the　engine　tone。
She　checked　the　fuel。　Roughly　a　third　gone；　and　they　hadn’t　opted　for　reserve　tanks。　She　keyed
the　vox。
“Umbra　Four…One　Leader　to　Four…One　Flight。　Let　me　hear　you。”
“Umbra　Three；　Four…A。”　Of　course　he　was。　Van　Tull　was　always　Four…A。
“Umbra　Five；　I’ll　be　fine　once　I’ve　remembered　what　the　controls　do。”
“Roger　that；　Five。　I　know　the　feeling；”　Jagdea　returned。
“Umbra　Eight。　Okay　here。”
Marquall　sounded　unhappy　still。　The　stupid　business　with　Gettering　had　knocked　him　back；　the
last　thing　a　novice　wanted　on　his　first　day　out。　He’d　tried　to　make　light　of　it；　remarking　that　his　Bolt
was　now　called　The　Smear；　because　Racklae　hadn’t　had　time　to　do　any　more　than　paint　out　his　nose
art　with　a　wash　of　undercoat。　But　Jagdea　knew　he’d　been　hurt。
“Let’s　refresh　the　pattern；　flight；”　she　said。　“Eight；　you　slip　into　point；　Five　and　Three　change
over。　I’ll　take　the　hanger。”
They　all　responded；　“Okay”。　A　nice　little　manoeuvre　test　to　get　them　flexing　their　brains　Jagdea
reckoned；　and　getting　Marquall　up　in　what　was　technically　lead　position　might　do　his　confidence
some　good。
“On　the　mark…　three；　two；　one…　execute。”
Unit　fours　flew　in　a　line　formation；　with　one　machine　forward　and　another　two　flanking　to　rear
on　either　side。　The　fourth；　or　“hanger”；　flanked　one　or　other　of　the　wingmen　to　rear；　forming　an
asymmetrical　V。　It　was　an　excellent　pack　formation；　each　pilot　covered　by　his　comrades；　the　hanger
able　to　switch　from　side　to　side　as　needed。　Currently；　Jagdea　was　in　point；　with　Van　Tull　to　her　port
and　Espere　to　her　starboard；　Marquall　at　Espere’s　five　as　the　hanger。
On　her　mark；　they　shuffled　the　deck。　Jagdea　throttled　down　and　slid　back　out　of　the　point　of　the
V。　Van　Tull　rolled　three…sixty　high　and　Espere　did　the　same；　but　in　reverse　and　low；　until　the　two
wingmen　had　swapped　places。　Marquall　peeled　out　low；　then　gunned　forward　under　the　V　and
pulled　ahead　before　dropping　to　cruise　speed　and　coming　up　gently。　The　two　wingmen　then　matched
speeds　and　flanked　him　sweetly　to　his　five　and　seven。　Jagdea　throttled　back　again；　just　a　touch；　and
came　around　onto　Espere’s　five。
Textbook。　The　first　thing　that　had　gone　right　all　day。
“Nice　work；　flight。　Very　slick。　Let’s　stay　put　for　another　five。”
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The　undercast　was　thinning。　They　had　about　six…tenths　cloud　now；　and　dark　patches　of　the
Lida’s　arable　valley　appeared　below　them；　distant　patchworks　of　field…systems；　irrigation　webs　and
hydroponic　rafts。
“Flight　Leader？”　It　was　Van　Tull。　“Go；　Three。”
“Check　your　auspex。　I’m　tagging　eight　or　nine　contacts　below　us　at　twelve　kilometres；　south；
inbound。”
Sure　enough；　Jagdea’s　scope　showed　seven　pippers；　moving　north…east　at　under　three　thousand
metres。　Not　eight　or　nine；　but　that　could　just　be　the　conditions　masking　returns。
“Umbra　Four…One　Leader　to　Operations。　Come　in；　Operations。”
“Receiving；　Umbra　Four…One　Leader。”
Jagdea　reached　forward　with　her　heavily…gloved　left　hand　and　transmitted　the　auspex　fix。
“Four…One　Lead。　Should　there　be　anything　up？”
“Plenty；　Four…One　Leader；　but　not　there。”
“Understood；　Operations。　We’ll　check　it　out。”　Jagdea　shifted　in　her　seat；　and　tweaked　the　airmix
a　little　richer。　“Lead　to　flight。　I’ll　take　a　look。”　That　was　the　hanger’s　job；　to　peel　off　for
sweeps。　“Hold　it　here　and　come　around　three　points　south。”　There　was　no　time　to　shuffle　the　deck
again；　which　meant　she　was　leaving　Marquall　at　point。　A　good　idea？　No　time　even　to　worry　about　it。
“Umbra　Eight；　you　have　point。　Stand　by　to　stoop　if　I　need　you。”
“Read　that；　Leader。　I’ve　got　it。”
At　last。　A　touch　of　excitement　in　the　boy’s　voice。　Good。　He　could　do　with　this。　Besides；　Van
Tull　was　right　there；　solid　and　dependable。　And　Espere　was　a　consummate　wingman。
Jagdea　kicked　the　afterburners　a　touch　and　rolled　out；　feeling　the　delicious　punch　of　G　as　she
inverted　and　began　to　dive　away；　wide；　to　the　left　of　the　trio　V。　the　long　dive　loaded　power　into　her
wings；　and　she　was　touching　two　thousand　kph　as　she　closed　on　the　targets。　Enough　load　to　pull　off
beautifully　if　they　were　friendly。　Enough　punch　to　turn　it　into　an　intercept　if　they　weren’t。
Five　kilometres　and　closing。　Four。
The　sky　was　suddenly　very　clear；　less　than　four…tenths　cloud。　The　vast　green　rift　of　the　Lida
Valley　stretched　out　beneath　her；　and　for　the　first　time　she　could　see　the　hazy　line　of　the　Makanites。
Three　kilometres。　There　they　were。　Below　her　still；　but　closing　at　an　alarming　rate　because　they
were　travelling　towards　her；　and　adding　her　speed　to　their　own。　Nine　machines。　Clustered　rather
than　in　formation。
At　two　kilometres；　she　identified　their　pattern。　Cyclones。　A　flight　of　Cyclones；　Enothian　PDF。
The　delta…winged　double　props　were　painted　in　a　grey　and　white　dazzle；　and　running　north　hard；
possibly　at　the　top　of　their　performance。
What　the　hell　were　they　doing　here？　Were　they…　running？
Instinct　made　Jagdea　flip　off　the　red　safety　covers　of　her　main　guns。
“Cyclone　intruders；　Cyclone　intruders；　this　is　Umbra　Four…One　Leader—”　she　started　to　say　into
her　vox…mask。
But　she　stopped。　One　of　the　tail…end　Cyclones　wobbled　and　exploded。　The　brief　fireball　was
fuel…rich　and　sent　streamers　of　white　smoke　twirling　away　into　the　clear　air。　The　flaming　debris
dropped　towards　the　field…system　below。
Something　crimson　and　hooked　ran　in　past　it　so　fast　it　was　climbing　out　of　range　again　before
Jagdea　had　realised　what　it　was。
“Bats！　Bats！　Bats！”　she　yelled　into　her　vox。
Theda　seafront；　15。20
They’d　wanted　to　celebrate。　Of　course　they　had。　First　run　in　a　new　theatre；　and　a　fine　one　at　that。　But
Viltry　hadn’t　felt　like　celebrating。　It　had　taken　a　lot　to　just　get　them　home。　The　final　half…hour；　fuel
low；　belly…light；　weapons　all　but　empty。　So　exposed；　so　vulnerable。　Operations　insisted　nothing　in
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the　enemy’s　air　force　could　reach　the　Littoral　and　the　home…stretch；　but　Viltry　had　been　sweating　so
much　on　the　last　section；　he’d　been　able　to　pour　moisture　out　of　his　flying　gloves　when　he　took　them
off。
The　field　had　come　up；　Theda　North。　Even　closing　in　on　the　beacon　lights；　he’d　still　had　the
distinct　feeling　that　something　was　going　to　come　down　out　of　nowhere　and　kill　them　hard。
The　field。　The　outer　circuit。　Blue　flags　all　round。　Power　down　to　minimal；　just　kissing　the　edge
of　stall　speed　for　Greta’s　massive　airframe。
Then　in　over　the　cross；　balancing　the　Marauder　as　he　brought　the　vector　nozzles　around；
switching　from　forward　flight　to　vertical。　A　squeeze　or　two　of　viff；　a　hunkering；　and　then　down。
Intact；　alive。
The　rest　of　Halo　came　back　around　them。
Judd　and　the　boys　had　already　earmarked　a　tavern　near　the　billets。　They　got　out；　loud　and　full　of
themselves；　scattering　flight　kit　onto　the　hardpan　as　they　whooped　and　slapped　hands。
“I’ll　join　you　later；”　Viltry　told　them。　“Paperwork。”
He’d　taken　the　longest　shower　in　the　history　of　the　Imperium　of　Man；　standing　silent　and　naked
under　tepid　water　in　the　stinking　rockcrete　stalls　behind　dispersal；　then　changed　into　a　spare　uniform
suit　he’d　had　the　presence　of　mind　to　bring　in　his　kitsack。　He　put　on　his　tan　leather　coat。　His　hands
were　still　shaking。
The　crew　was　already　gone。　Viltry　found　a　transport　that　was　doing　a　run　down　into　the　centre　of
town　to　pick　up　a　Navy　crew；　a