Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第38章

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to　rumours；　the　enemy　has　an　even　greater　incentive。　On　Herodor；　it　is　said；　the　Beati　has　been
reborn。”
Marquall　blinked。　“Is　that…　possible？”
Kautas　pursed　his　lips。　“It　tests　even　the　faith　of　an　imhava　ayatani；　but　it　seems　to　be　the　truth。
Right　now；　Herodor；　like　Enothis；　is　under　desperate　assault　by　the　hosts　of　Chaos。　If　either　world
falls；　then　the　flank　is　ripped　open　and　the　Crusade　is　doomed。　If　Herodor　falls；　and　the　Beati　dies
with　it；　then　the　Imperium　suffers　an　even　greater　loss。”
“And　you　wish　you　were　there？”　asked　Marquall。
“Oh；　indeed。　How　I　wish。　In　his　heart；　every　ayatani　longs　to　be　on　Herodor；　at　Sabbat’s　side。
But　it　is　my　luck；　my　lot　in　life；　to　be　stuck　here；　pinned　fast　by　duty　and　the　turmoil　of　another
combat；　unable　to　make　the　final　pilgrimage　to　her　person。”
A　breeze　picked　up；　and　played　across　the　lake。　The　frond…trees　along　the　shore　swayed　and
hissed。
“That　makes　my　own　problems　seem　meagre；”　said　Marquall。　“Maybe　you’re　better　at　this
priestly　advice…giving　thing　than　I　thought。”
Kautas　shook　his　head。　“I’m　good　for　two　things；　Vander　Marquall。　Drinking　and　being　bitter。　I
waste　every　miserable　day　waiting　for　the　end。”
“What　end？”
“The　end　of　this　war。　The　end　of　this　world。　My　own　end。　Whatever　comes　first　to　free　me　so
that　I　can　be　with　the　Beati。”
Marquall　got　to　his　feet。　“Don’t　think　that　way。　It　smells　too　much　of　pessimism。　We　can　still
win；　tell　yourself　that。　Here；　and　on　Herodor。　The　Crusade　can　still　triumph。　The　Beati　can　still　live。
Even　one　man’s　sour　thoughts　can　lend　the　enemy　strength。”
“Besides；”　he　added。　“Did　it　not　occur　to　you　that　the　Beati　must　have　wanted　you　to　be　here？”
Kautas　made　no　reply。　Marquall　shrugged　and　headed　back　up　the　shore　to　the　base。
“Marquall？”
He　turned　and　looked　back。　The　priest　had　risen；　looking　after　him。　“What；　father？”
“That　suggests　she　must　have　wanted　you　to　be　here　too。”
Over　the　desert；　09。35
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The　sky　was　dark　with　bats。　Literally；　terrifyingly　dark。　A　mass　bombing　wave；　perhaps　five
hundred　machines；　was　passing　over　like　a　slow；　heavy　storm　cloud　at　about　ten　thousand　metres。
Two　more　great　swarms；　equally　large；　were　following　it；　ten　kilometres　back。
Most　of　it　was　simply　moving　past　towards　intended　target　zones　in　the　Littoral；　unconcerned　by
the　minor　brawl　down　in　the　desert　verges。　But　a　pack　of　bombers；　twenty　or　more；　had　peeled　off　to
attack　the　retreat　column；　and　several　dozen　escort　fighters　had　committed　with　them。
Jagdea　heard　Del　Ruth　and　one　of　the　Raptor　pilots　frantically　calling　in　warnings。
“Mass　raids！　Five　hundred…plus；　coming　in　out　of　the　desert；　turning　north…east；　ten　thousand。”
Jagdea　herself　was　too　busy　pulling　negative　Gs　to　evade　the　fighters　streaking　in。　Hell　Razors；
for　the　most　part；　but　also　machines　of　another　pattern　with　long；　dihedral　wings　cabaned　towards
the　rear　of　the　hulls；　so　they　looked　like　long…necked　birds。　The　Gs　hung　on　her　hard；　and　made　her
gut　squirm。
Jagdea　levelled　out　in　time　to　hear　Operations　ordering　the　Imperial　fliers　out。
“This　is　Umbra　Lead；”　she　voxed。　“Negative。　I　say　again　negative　on　that。　Get　everything　up　in
support　or　that　column　is　dead。”
As　things　stood；　she　and　the　other　Umbra　birds　had　less　than　twenty　minutes　left　on　site　before
fuel　needs　would　force　them　to　extend　for　home。　The　Raptors　probably　had　less　than　ten。
The　enemy　fighter…bombers；　all　of　them　Hell　Talons　with　lurid　paint…schemes；　were　already
screaming　down　on　the　beleaguered　Imperial　ground　forces；　spilling　out　munitions　pods　that　lit　up
the　desert　with　blankets　of　fuel…air　explosive。　Tanks；　weapons　carriers；　trucks　and　men　all　burned。
Frantic　Hydra　fire　stitched　up　into　the　air。
She　saw　a　black　cruciform　shape—one　of　the　Raptors—hammer　in　under　her；　gunning　for　one　of
the　stooping　Talons。　It　missed；　then　carried　on　low；　strafing　the　enemy　tanks。　There　was　no　sign　of
Del　Ruth　or　Van　Tull；　but　she　could　hear　their　urgent　calls—both　brawling　now。　They　were　still　in
the　game。
Jagdea　did　a　high　speed　barrel…roll；　and　came　in　on　a　Talon　that　was　just　commencing　its　run。
Her　first　las…bursts　went　wide；　but　they　were　enough　to　scare　it　and　force　it　to　pull　out　steeply；
struggling　with　the　weight　of　its　unreleased　payload。　She　rolled　back；　corrected　her　speed；　and　fired
again；　ripping　las…shots　through　its　aft　section。　The　whole　machine　disintegrated；　a　dry；　fire…less
burst　of　metal　parts　and　fuselage　sections　erupting　with　a　cough　of　smoke。　Large　pieces　of　debris
whickered　backwards　across　her　path；　too　fast　for　her　to　avoid　collision。　She　heard　impacts　across
her　armour。　Something　spinning　and　black　cracked　off　her　canopy　and　left　a　star…shaped　craze　in　the
armoured　glass。　Something　else　smacked　across　her　wing　and　damaged　an　elevator；　forcing　her　to
compensate　hard　with　trim　and　rudder。　Yet　another　something—a　large　piece　of　drive　unit；　she
guessed—wallowed　into　her　and　bounced　hard　off　serial　Zero…Two’s　snout。　That　nearly　knocked　her
out　of　the　sky。
Jagdea　held　on　and　brought　the　Thunderbolt　true。　Sitting　up　in　her　harness；　she　could　see　the
buckled　plating　of　her　bird’s　nose　cone。　She　had　several　damage　warning　tones。
She　checked　her　display。　Lascannons　off…line。　Either　the　impact　had　buckled　the　cannon　barrels
themselves；　or　they’d　severed　the　feeds　to　the　ammunition　battery。
She　cancelled　the　alerts；　then　flipped　the　toggle　over　to　quad。　Hard　guns　it　was　then；　the　only
ordnance　she　had　left。
A　Raptor　went　over　her　in　the　confusion；　climbing　hard。　Right　in　its　wake　came　three　Razors；
unloading　on　it　relentlessly；　then　Van　Tull；　chasing　the　chasers。
Jagdea　peeled　over　and　hit　the　burners；　rising　fast　and　acute　at　Van　Tull’s　four。　She　closed　in
time　to　see　him　score。　Umbra　Three’s　lascannons　sparked　brightly　and　the　lead　Razor　blew　out
furiously　like　a　dirty；　smoky　promethium　fire。　Van　Tull　had　to　make　a　violent　bank　out　to　avoid　the
falling；　burning　lump　as　it　toppled　back　into　gravity’s　embrace。
Jagdea　stayed　on；　sick　in　her　mouth　from　the　terrible　stresses。　She　barked　off　a　hail　of　fire；　but
she　couldn’t　save　the　Raptor。　Struck　from　behind；　it　wiggled；　then　shook。　Pieces　of　it　fluttered　off
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and　it　started　to　kick　out　black　smoke。　It　peeled　away；　straight　down；　flames　encasing　it。　She　saw　an
eject。　A　chute　in　the　air。
The　remaining　Razors　had　broken　as　soon　as　they’d　got　their　kill；　mainly；　she　supposed；　to　shake
her　off。　They　dropped　below　her；　wide；　turning　out。　She　pulled　a　neat　vertical　reverse；　and　came
back　down　after　one　of　them。
It　was　red。　She　glimpsed　some　sort　of　nose　art　that　depicted　evisceration。　It　banked　wildly；
trying　to　evade　as　it　plunged　towards　the　blazing　desert　floor。　She　let　it　slide　through　her　sights；　left
to　right；　then　bellied　round　so　it　came　back　again；　rolling　through　right　to　left。　Tone　lock。
Her　thumb　depressed。　She　felt　the　shudder　and　stammer　of　the　autocannons；　saw　the　streaking
shells。　The　Razor；　apparently　unharmed；　levelled　out；　then　folded　up；　bleeding　smoke；　and　fell　out
of　the　air。
Jagdea　rolled　off。　She　saw　the　chute　now；　the　Raptor　pilot；　swaying　down　through　the　coiling
smoke。
He　burst。
He　spurted　apart；　like　vapour；　like　shredded　meat。　His　chute　ripped　into　tatters　and　collapsed。
One　of　the　unknown　pattern　enemy　machines　whipped　past；　flank　guns　still　firing。
Rage　engulfed　her。　She　hammered　around　after　the　long…necked　killer；　but　the　G　was　too　much。
She　only　just　got　her　mask　off　before　her　breakfast　ejected　itself；　squeezed　out　of　her　body　by　the
turning　force。
“God…Emperor…　God…Emperor…”　she　gasped；　hoarse。　She　started　to　grey　out；　even　though　she
was　now　steady　and　level　again。　She　was　light…headed。
She　vomited　again；　then　pulled　the　mask　back　on；　sucking　in　the　air…mix。　Her　mouth　tasted　foul；
acid。　She　knew　she’d　been　flying　level　for　too　long；　even　before　the　lock　alarm　sounded。
There　was　something　on　her。　She　tried　to　twist　out；　but　her　arms　were　weak；　her　body　feverish。
She　felt　several　solid　hits。
Taking　a　deep　breath；　forcing　herself　together；　she　banked　to　port；　and　stormed　through　a　quintet
of　Hell　Talons　that　had　been　coming　in　on　the　column。　She　didn’t　even　have　ti