Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第32章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


make　sure　it　works。　If　it　doesn’t；　get　another　one。　Do　you　understand？”
“I　do；　commander。”
“Funny；　I　thought　you’d　understood　last　night　when　I　told　you　the　first　time。”
“I　was　slack；　commander。　It　won’t　happen　again。”
“Carry　on；”　she　said。　He　turned。　“Wait！”
He　sighed；　and　turned　back。　She　was　frowning。　“Closer。　Right　here。　Turn　round。”
She　examined　the　skin　of　his　shoulders　where　the　vest　exposed　it；　then　pulled　up　the　hem　and
looked　at　his　back。
“You　have　a　dermal　condition　I　should　know　about？”　she　asked。
“No；　mamzel。”
“Then　it’s　scop　bites。　They　say　some　people　get　them　worse　than　others。　The　sweet…tasting　ones。
Are　you　sweet…tasting；　Marquall？”
“Don’t　know；　mamzel。”
“The　scops　seem　to　think　so。　See　the　base　medicae　while　you’re　about　it。”
“Yes；　mamzel。”
Marquall　laced　up　his　boots　properly　and　then　trudged　through　the　base。　Now　the　risk　of
discovery　had　passed；　the　place　felt　more　like　a　functioning　air…base。　Personnel　hurried　about　on　the
boardwalks；　and　teams　of　fitters　unwrapped　hidden　machines　and　resumed　work　on　them。　The　smell
of　promethium　almost　overwhelmed　the　scent　of　the　swamp。
The　forward　strike　base；　a　makeshift　encampment；　lurked　secretly　in　the　kinderwood　forests　on
the　southern　shore　of　Lake　Gocel。　The　lake　itself；　immense　and　nearly　a　thousand　kilometres　east　to
west；　was　fed　by　headwaters　coming　down　from　the　Makanites；　and　in　turn　emptied　into　the　Saroja
River　to　drain　into　the　sea　on　the　far…away　western　coast。　This　great　system　of　rivers　and　lakes；
around　which　flourished　a　gigantic　swathe　of　rainforest；　formed　a　margin　between　the　Interior
Desert　to　the　south　and　the　scrubby；　temperate　peninsula　to　the　north。　An　enveloping　green　belt　in
which　they　could　hide　and　then　strike　at　anything　that　passed　over。
The　vast　lake　itself；　so　wide　the　far　shore　was　all　but　a　smudge；　was　visible　between　the　thinning
shore　trees；　a　broad　expanse　of　sunlit　green。　The　entire　territory　was　swampy　and　bug…thick：
miasmal　black　ooze　and　pools　of　stagnant　water　interlacing　the　jumbled　kinder　groves。　Beyond　the
lake；　to　the　east；　Marquall　glimpsed　the　lazy　flanks　of　the　Makanites；　dust…yellow　in　the　rising　sun。
Navy　pioneer　units　and　Munitorum　workcrews　had　built　a　surprising　amount　at　Gocel。　Prefab
hab　modules；　defence　batteries；　bunkers　and　covered　hangars　nestled　under　the　trees　and　the
ubiquitous　shimmer　nets。　Modar　stacks　and　vox　masts　poked　discreetly　above　the　leaf　cover；　or　had
been　raised　as　cable…form　aerials；　cleated　to　the　trees　themselves。　Clearings　had　been　cut；　dozens　of
them；　each　one　levelled　and　decked　with　heavyweight　vulcanised　matting：　thick　grey　material　rolled
out　to　form　temporary　hardstands。　On　each　stand　sat　a　warplane：　the　ten　Thunderbolts　of　Umbra
Flight；　the　twelve　of　the　Navy　409th　“Raptors”；　and　the　eight　Lightnings　from　the　786th　“Spyglass”
recon。　Unless　unshrouded　for　launch　or　landing；　each　matt…decked　clearing　was　all　but　invisible
from　the　air　thanks　to　the　camo…awnings。
84
Bulk　landers；　for　support　crew　transfers；　base　supply；　and　fuel　and　munitions　deliveries；　used　the
wide；　muddy　beach　of　the　lake　shore；　not　needing　to　stay　on　station　for　more　than　a　few　minutes。
There　was　no　way　a　permanent　large…scale　matt…deck　could　be　concealed　from　the　air。　Sentinel
power　lifters；　striding　through　the　mire；　did　all　the　base’s　heavy　lifting　and　carrying。
The　FSB　had　a　decent　ring　of　Tarantula　sentry　guns　watching　the　forest　around　it；　as　well　as　two
dozen　Manticore　and　Hydra　anti…aircraft　batteries。　With　the　PDF　troopers　needed　to　man　all　these；
the　thirty　pilots；　the　fitter　teams　and　forward　operations　personnel；　Lake　Gocel　FSB　had　a
population　of　over　two　hundred。
“Hey；　killer。　Where　you　going？”
Marquall　looked　round　and　saw　Larice　Asche　jogging　up　behind　him　along　the　flak　boarding。
“Stores；”　he　said。
Privately；　he　was　in　awe　of　Flight　Lieutenant　Larice　Asche。　She　seemed　so　damn　tough。　Jagdea
was　a　multi…kill　vet　too；　but　he　mainly　respected　her　because　she　was　in　charge。　Asche；　an　ace
before　the　liberation　of　Phantine　had　even　finished；　was　the　real　thing；　respected　by　all　for　her　sheer
talent。　And　young；　too。　Blansher　had　a　huge　tally；　but　he　was　an　old　guy。　Larice　seemed　not　much
older　than　Marquall　himself。
She　was　lean　and　gamine；　with　bony　cheeks　and　a　vicious；　toothy　grin。　The　previous　afternoon；
before　they’d　shipped　out　to　Gocel；　she’d　had　her　famous　blonde　hair　shaved　down　to　a　finger
width。　“Jungle　lice；”　she’d　announced；　adding；　“do　not　want　them。”
“The　med…station’s　near　stores；　isn’t　it？”　she　asked　him。
“I　think　so。”
“I’ll　tag　along。　So　much　for　precautions。”
“What？”
She　ran　a　hand　through　her　brutally　cropped　hair。　“For　this。”
“How　so？”
She　pulled　off　her　jacket　and　showed　him　the　multiple　bites　on　her　bare　forearms。　“Scops；”　he
said。　“So　they　say。”
“Me　too；”　he　said；　dropping　his　flight　coat　off　one　arm　and　showing　her　his　shoulder。
“Bitching；”　she　said。
The　Munitorum　station　was　a　ring　of　hardened　prefabs　standing　in　the　blue　shadows　of　a
massive　frond…tree。　They　went　inside；　into　the　air…scrubbed　cool。　The　duty　attendant；　his　face　full　of
ancient　augmetics；　looked　up　from　his　cogitator。
“I　need　a　new　tag；”　Marquall　said。
“I　believe；　pilot　officer；　you　mean　you　need　a　new　tag　please；　senior。”
“Ah…　what？”
“I　am　Senior　Lirek。　You　will　address　me　civilly；”　Marquall　glanced　at　his　chronometer。　“There’s
a　war　on；”　he　said。　Asche　sniggered。
“Indeed　there　is。　And　has　civility　run　out？　Where　would　the　Navy　be　without　the　constant　efforts
of　the　Munitorum？”
“I　have　no　idea；”　said　Marquall。
“Ah！　Indeed！”　Lirek　said；　rising　to　his　feet　and　adjusting　his　heavy　optics　manually。　“You　expert
us　to　be　at　your　beck　and　call；　and　want　this　and　want　that　but—”
“Do　you　know　who　that　is？”　Larice　hissed　at　the　old　man。
“Uh…　no。”
“Larice—”　Marquall　began　nervously。
“That’s　only　Marquall；”　Asche　continued；　her　eyes　fake…wide。　“Killer　Marquall。　The　one　who…
you　know…”
“No；”　mumbled　Lirek。　“I’m　not　sure　I　do—”
“The　one　who　made　the　kill！”　said　Asche。
85
“The　kill？”
“The　kill。　The　kill。　For　Throne’s　sake；　and　you　talk　about　respect…”
“No；　well；　yes；”　stammered　the　Munitorum　senior　suddenly。　“I　forget　myself。　Your　device；　sir？”
“It　doesn’t　work；”　said　Marquall；　handing　his　bracelet　over。
“So　it　doesn’t。　A　terrible　oversight。　Wait　one　moment；　if　you　will。”
Lirek　came　back　with　a　fresh　tag　unit。　“Here；　sir。　I　have　tested　it。　In　the　event　of　a　cover
warning；　it　will　illuminate；　and；　as　required；　silently　alert　or　wake　you　by　a　gentle；　non…harmful
electric　pulse。”
Marquall　signed　for　it。　“Thank　you；”　he　said。
“I　live　to　serve；　sir；”　Lirek　said；　his　tortoise…head　bowing。
Outside；　Asche　started　sniggering。
“What　did　you　do　that　for？”
“It　got　you　your　tag；　didn’t　it？”　she　asked。
“Yeah。　But　you　lied。”
“Have　you　made　a　kill　or　not？”
“Yes…”
“Then　I　didn’t　lie。　What　does　he　know？”
“You’re　bad；　Larice　Asche。”
“So　they　say。”
Next　door　to　the　stores；　a　long　prefab　huddled　under　the　shimmer　hoods。　A　tall　man　in　early
middle　age；　well…made　and　masculine；　sat　on　the　entrance　steps。　His　arms　were　folded　on　his　knees；
and　his　head　rested　on　his　arms。　His　hair　was　matted　with　what　looked　like　dry　clay；　forming
dreadlocks。　He　wore　the　blue　silk　robes　of　an　ayatani；　one　of　the　Bead’s　priesthood。
“Father；”　said　Marquall。　“Is　the　medicae　in？”
“He’s　out；”　answered　the　priest。
“Maybe　we　can　leave　him　a　note？”　Marquall　suggested　to　Asche。
“No；　I　gotta　find　something。　These　bites　are　killing　me。”
They　went　into　the　med…block。　All　the　surfaces　were　polished　steel　and　swabbed　plastek。　The
circulating　air　smelled　of　mint。　Asche　began　to　rifle　through　the　drug　cabinets。
“What　are　you　doing？”
The　ayatani　stood　behind　them　in　the　doorway。　“Helping　myself；”　said　Asche。
“I　told　you　the　medicae　was　out。”
“Yeah；　you　did。”
“Now　he’s　in　again。”
They　both　looked　at　the　tall　priest。　He　raised　a　hand　and　shook　back　his　sleeve　to　reveal　a　Navyissue
ident　cuff。　Divisio　Medicae。
“I’m　Ayatani　Kautas…　I　also　happen　to　be　serving　medicae　at　this　FSB。　Take　your