Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第51章

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the　hardstand　next　door；　Van　Tull　was　stripping　off　his　jacket　and　gloves。
“Nice　one；”　Marquall　said。　“I　saw　you　sting　that　Tormentor。”
“Thanks；”　said　Van　Tull。　“I　thought　the　bastard　was　going　to　get　past　me　for　a　moment。　Any
luck　yourself？”
Marquall　shook　his　head。
“I　thought　I　saw　you　on　a　Razor。”
“Yeah；　but　it　slipped　out　and　I　lost　it。”
“There’s　always　the　next　time；”　said　Van　Tull。
Zemmic　wandered　up　to　join　them。　His　lucky　charms　jingled　about　him　on　a　new　chain。　“What’s
that　about？”　he　asked；　gesturing　down　the　line　of　hardstands。
A　large　staff　limousine　was　approaching；　pulling　to　a　halt。　The　driver；　a　Navy　cadet；　got　out；
went　around　to　the　other　side；　and　opened　the　rear　door；　saluting。　A　figure　got　out。
“That’s　the　Apostles’　chief；　isn’t　it？”　asked　Van　Tull。
“Seekan；”　said　Marquall。
“What　the　hell　does　he　want？”　said　Zemmic。
They　watched　as　Seekan　crossed　to　number　three　stand。　Asche　was　just　dismounting　from　her
Bolt。　She　saluted　Seekan；　and　was　saluted　back。　Seekan　began　to　speak　and　handed　her　something。
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A　data…slate；　it　looked　like。　Even　from　a　distance；　they　could　see　the　strange；　startled　look　on
Asche’s　face。
“What’s　going　on？”　Zemmic　said。
Seekan　and　Asche　exchanged　salutes　again；　then　Seekan　shook　her　by　the　hand　and　returned　to
his　car。　As　it　carried　him　away　off　the　field　enclosure；　Asche　remained　where　she　was；　studying　the
slate。
Marquall；　Zemmic　and　Van　Tull　jogged　down　to　her。　Blansher　had　appeared；　and　Ranfre；
Cordiale　and　Del　Ruth　were　also　approaching。
“Larice？”　Zemmic　said。
She　glanced　up。　There　was　such　a　strange　look　in　her　eyes。　“Hey；　Zem。”
“What’s　going　on？　What　did　Seekan　want？”
“Me；”　she　said。
“What？”
She　looked　at　them　all　for　a　moment。　“You’re　not　going　to　believe　this…”　she　began。
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DAY　266
Theda　seafront；　06。02
Viltry’s　first　glimpse　of　Theda　City　was　from　the　cab　of　a　Munitorum　fleet　transport　in　the　small
hours　of　the　night。　It　was　the　first　time　he’d　set　eyes　on　it　since　the　morning　of　the　259th　when　he’d
taken　G　for　Greta　aloft　on　her　final　flight。　Things　had　changed。
In　the　dark；　from　many　kilometres　distant；　the　city　itself　was　invisible　because　of　black…out
regulations；　but　the　shape　of　it　was　defined　against　the　sky　by　the　ruddy　glow　of　firestorms
throbbing　in　its　heart。
“Holy　Throne…”　he’d　breathed。
“Told　you　it　was　bad；”　the　driver　had　said。
Viltry　had　made　the　journey　along　the　coast　overnight；　begging　lifts　from　a　series　of　transport
drivers。　There　was　activity　all　along　the　seaboard；　part　of　the　frenzy　of　evacuation。　Munitorum
transit　fleets　were　pouring　out　of　Theda　and　the　surrounding　towns；　laden　with　materiel　and
personnel　for　the　evacuation　ports；　and　then　streaming　back　to　depot　empty　for　another　run。　The　vast
night　sky　was　a　maelstrom　of　tracer；　flak　bursts　and　burner　trails。　At　Madenta；　trying　to　find　a　ride　to
hitch　amongst　the　chaos　of　traffic　in　the　town　centre；　Viltry　had　been　about　three　hundred　metres
from　a　bomb　strike　that　had　destroyed　a　templum；　nine　habs　and　a　machine　shop。　Everywhere　he
went；　he　could　hear　the　drone　of　the　Archenemy’s　engines　in　the　sky。
The　cargo…10　drove　into　Theda’s　outskirts　at　first　light；　stopping　at　several　Munitorum　or
Commissariat　checkpoints。　The　streets　were　deserted；　apart　from　other　military　traffic。　The　slowly
rising　light；　pale　and　thin；　revealed　a　dusty；　smoky　world。　They　passed　row　after　row　of　bombedplaces；
fire　control　teams　fought　with　blazing　tenements　and　hab　stacks　gripped　by　swirling
infernos。　Some　streets　were　closed。　Medicae　shuttles；　bells　clattering；　rushed　by。
Just　after　five　thirty；　they　reached　the　Old　Town　area。　Like　everywhere　else；　it　had　taken　a
pasting。　Viltry　had　a　clawing；　sick　feeling　in　his　chest。
“I’m　due　at　the　assembly　yards　in　Danzerplatz；”　the　driver　said。　“Any　good　to　you？”
“No。　Uh；　just　let　me　out　here。”
The　driver　pulled　the　truck　up　at　a　street　corner。
“Thanks；”　Viltry　said；　climbing　down。
“No　problem。　Good　luck　rejoining　your　unit。　Shoot　some　of　them　bastards　down　for　me。”
“I’ll　try。”
The　driver　nodded；　and　then　pulled　the　truck　away。
Viltry　began　to　walk。　His　tattered　flight　jacket　still　had　the　emergency　compass　sewn　into　the
cuff；　so　he　followed　the　needle　and　went　north。　It　took　him　about　thirty　minutes　to　skirt　up　through
the　ruins　of　the　Old　Town　to　the　seafront。
The　air　was　cooler　here；　fresher；　despite　the　cloying　smoke　that　wrapped　the　whole　city。　He
heard　the　strange　yet　familiar　sound　of　rushing　breakers；　the　clatter　of　pebbles。　He　smelled　the　sea。
How　ironic　that　a　smell；　so　recently　new；　so　alien　to　his　background；　should　now　be　so　evocative。
He　wandered　down　the　broad　seafront　road　for　a　while；　trying　to　get　his　bearings。　He　was　sure
he　should　be　able　to　see　the　piers。　Finally；　almost　by　accident；　he　realised　he　was　standing　by　the
familiar　entrance　arch。　There　was　the　chalkboard；　propped　up　against　the　ironwork　gate。　“Palace
Refreshments。　Table　service；　sea　views。”
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Beyond　the　arch；　there　was　nothing；　except　a　tangled　mess　of　black　iron　and　charred　wood
sprawled　out　into　the　surging　tide。　The　piers　were　gone；　destroyed；　all　three　of　them。
I　think　it’d　take　a　lot　to　bring　the　palace　doayer　had　said。
Oskar　Viltry　felt　his　legs　go　numb　and　weak。　He　leaned　against　the　cast　iron　railing　and　closed
his　weary　eyes。
Theda　Old　Town；　06。30
There’d　been　a　plan。　A　trip　down　to　the　Hydra　on　Voldney；　all　of　Umbra；　and　the　fitters　too；　to　toast
Asche　on　her　way。　Blansher　had　sent　a　message；　ordering　cases　of　joiliq　and　the　private　hire　of　the
main　bar。
But　then　the　snap　call　had　come　in　at　20。00；　and　they’d　gone　aloft　into　the　night；　into　the
mayhem　of　darkness　and　fire。　By　the　time　they’d　returned；　debriefed；　showered　and　been　stood
down；　Larice　Asche　had　already　packed　her　bags　and　departed　to　meet　her　report　time。　She’d　left　a
note。
Good　flying；　Umbra。　See　you　up　there；　somewhere。　Larice。
There　was　an　empty　feeling　in　the　billet。　A　dark　mood；　somehow　worse　than　if　they’d　lost　a
comrade　in　action。　“We’re　going　anyway；”　Blansher　said。
They’d　reached　the　Hydra　at　four　in　the　morning；　just　as　the　staff　were　hoping　to　close；　and　tried
their　level　best　to　rouse　a　party　mood。　But　it　was　like　a　wake。　Blansher　said　a　few　words　about
Asche；　and　they　were　good　words　too；　but　they’d　have　sounded　better　coming　from　Jagdea。　The
crew　of　Umbra　sat　around；　morose。　The　fitters；　always　up　for　a　free　drink；　got　drunk　and　loud；　but
kept　themselves　to　themselves。　Van　Tull　and　Cordiale　left　after　an　hour。　Zemmic；　who　had　been
discarded　by　Larice　Asche　as　quickly　as　Marquall；　got　brutally　intoxicated　and　then　violently　ill。
Ranfre　took　pity　on　him；　found　a　driver　with　a　truck；　and　took　him　back　to　the　base。
Which　left　Marquall；　Del　Ruth　and　Blansher。
“Not　exactly　what　I’d　planned；”　Blansher　said。　The　three　of　them　sat　around　a　table；　toying　with
shot　glasses。　On　the　other　side　of　the　bar；　Racklae　and　the　fitters　were　playing　drinking　games；
roaring　out　with　laughter　and　good　humour。　The　red…eyed　bar　staff　sat　behind　the　counter；　longing
for　them　all　to　go　home。
“We　could　join　them；”　Del　Ruth　suggested；　tipping　her　head　in　the　direction　of　the　fitters。
“And　spoil　their　fun？”　Blansher　said。　“Pilots　need　fitters　and　fitters　need　pilots；　and　there　is　a
bond　close　to　love　between　them。　But　socially？　No。　Different　worlds。　Different　classes。　We　go　over
there；　try　to　join　in；　we’ll　be　as　welcome　as　a　turd　in　a　foot　bath。”
Agguila　Del　Ruth　had　been　halfway　through　a　sip；　and　snorted　with　laughter；　choking　so　hard
Marquall　had　to　slap　her　on　the　back。
It　was　the　best　laugh　they’d　had　all　night。
“Throne　save　me；”　Blansher　sighed。　“This　is　so　not　what　I’d　planned。”
“Story　of　my　life；”　muttered　Marquall；　pouring　out　another　measure　of　joiliq　for　each　of　them。
“What’s　this　now？”　said　Del　Ruth。　“Self…directed　misery　too？”
Marquall　shrugged。　“Do　you　know；　I　was　top　of　my　class　at　Hessenville。”
“Weren’t　we　all？”　said　Del　Ruth；　raising　her　eyebrows　at　Blansher。
“No；　not　me；”　said　Blansher　sadly；　reaching　for　his　drink。　“I　was…　bottom。　Pilot…cadet　voted
most　likely　to　wash　out。　I　failed　every　exerc