Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第72章

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The　machine　plunged　away。　Jagdea　saw　a　flash　of　glitter　and　a　shape　in　the　air。　Far　below　her；　a
chute　opened；　a　tiny　dot　against　the　tungsten　sea。
Lucerna　AB；　15。20
As　they　refuelled　and　reloaded；　no　one　spoke　much。　Fatigue　and　nerves　had　almost　wrung　them　out；
but　the　losses　made　it　much　worse。　Their　hearts　ached　as　much　as　their　joints。　For　most　of　the　pilots；
circulation　and　balance　were　seriously　impaired。　Just　walking　around　the　hangar　was　difficult。
Just　before　16。00；　as　they　were　preparing　to　launch；　Operations　reported　that　the　second　wave
had　broken　short　of　Zophos。　Fought　to　a　near…standstill　after　four　hours；　the　Archenemy　formations
had　turned　back。
If　a　third　wave　was　intended；　they’d　see　it　within　the　next　five　hours。
“Third　time　lucky；”　said　Zemmic。
“Who　for？”　asked　Kaminsky。
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Over　the　Midwinters；　18。23
They　came　back　early。　As　if　hungry；　somehow　sensing　that　they　had　their　enemy　on　the　ropes。　Or
desperate。　That’s　what　Jagdea　told　herself。
The　third　wave　came　out　over　the　coast　in　the　early　and　unnatural　dusk；　seemingly　just　as
immense　as　before。　How　could　they　have　shot　down　so　many　of　the　bastards　and　there　be　so　little
sign　of　a　thinning　in　their　ranks？
The　remaining　eight　machines　of　Umbra　Flight　climbed　with　four　other　Thunderbolt　squadrons
to　nine　thousand；　and　circled　in　over　the　archipelago　as　the　enemy　formations　approached。　The　other
bases　had　put　up　their　wings。
The　line　was　drawn。
Combat　began　at　18。45。　Another　new　tactic　was　immediately　revealed。　Frustrated　by　the　Navy’s
staunch　resistance；　the　Archenemy　had　committed　the　front　elements　of　its　bomber　waves　low；　to
pattern　bomb　the　islands　in　the　hope　of　annihilating　the　hidden　bases　there。　From　its　overall　heading；
this　arm　of　the　wave　was　intending　to　cross　the　Straits　of　Jabez　and　target　Tamuda　once　the　islands
were　done。　The　radiant　ripples　of　furious　detonations　began　to　light　up　the　southern　part　of　the
island　chain。
The　Imperial　planes　went　in　amongst　the　bombers；　cutting　them　out　of　the　air　even　as　they
dropped　their　warloads。
“I　don’t　see　fighters；”　Marquall　called。
“There’ll　be　fighters；”　Blansher　said。
Darrow　made　his　eighth　kill　of　the　day；　then　throttled　up　to　join　Viltry　in　an　attack　on　a　superheavy。
The　tracer　patterns　were　torrential　and　bright　in　the　stale　air。
Jagdea　turned　in　tight。　She　couldn’t　see　Zemmic　or　Van　Tull　in　the　mayhem；　but　she　could　hear
them　over　the　link。　Blansher　and　Kaminsky　were　attacking　a　trio　of　Tormentors。　She　was　about　to
start　a　run　onto　a　Hell　Talon　when　she　saw　the　escort　bats　coming　in　across　them。
“Bats！　Twenty…plus！　Two　o’clock！”　Jagdea　yelled。
They　were　Razors。　Black　and　red；　a　few　bright　crimson。　One　pearl…white。
The　Killer　and　his　circus　came　on。　Two　of　his　wingmen　attacked　and　destroyed　a　pair　of　Navy
Thunderbolts　from　the　96th　who　didn’t　react　anything　like　fast　enough。
“Umbra！　Split！　Split！”　Jagdea　ordered　and　opened　her　throttle；　going　for　the　pearl　leader。　His
evasive　roll　left　her　wrong…footed；　but　she　turned　hard　and　tried　to　get　on　his　tail。　He　refused　to　sit；
vectoring　to　port　and　coming　up　underneath　her。　Desperately；　she　flick…rolled　and　dropped　down
around　him　to　his　right；　but　he　turned　off　sharply　to　port。
For　a　moment　she　wondered　if　she　had　actually　scared　him　into　a　break；　but　then　saw　in　dismay
that　he’d　simply　been　lining　her　up　for　his　two　crimson　wingmen。　Serial　Zero…Two　shuddered　as
laser　bolts　went　through　its　wings。　Jagdea　slammed　the　suck　over　and　tried　to　barrel　under　the
Razors；　but　they　were　as　agile　as　their　master；　and　stuck　tight　to　her　tail。
“Throne　of　Earth！”　Jagdea　cursed；　fighting　to　break　out。　Moving　far　too　fast　for　such　close
quarters；　she　almost　rammed　a　Hell　Talon；　and　bled　speed　miserably　as　she　was　forced　to　duck
under　it。　Another　shot　clipped　her　tailfin。　Two　more　ripped　through　the　sensor　dusters　and　her
auspex　screen　flickered　and　died。　She　vectored；　came　round　stubbornly　and　started　to　climb　between
a　pair　of　Tormentors　that　lashed　at　her　with　their　weapon　mounts。
Viltry　saw　her　plight。　He　pulled　away　from　the　superheavy　he　had　just　crippled　and　lit　his
burners；　spearing　down　through　the　bomber　formation　into　the　denser　smoke。
“Jagdea！　Come　left！”　he　called。　She　turned；　but　the　crimson　bats　would　not　let　her　go。　Viltry
fired　on　them　and　tucked　in。　He　couldn’t　get　a　lock。　He　wasn’t　going　to　get　them　in　time。
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Blansher　and　Kaminsky　left　the　bombers　alone　and　stooped　after　Jagdea　too。　Kaminsky　saw　the
pearl…white　bat　first。　It　seemed　to　come　out　of　the　vapour　of　fyceline　smoke　like　a　spectre；　gun…pods
flickering。　Umbra　Two　wrenched　violently　as　gaping　wounds　punched　into　its　tail　plane。
“Blansher！”　Kaminsky　yelled。
Blansher　tried　to　viff；　tried　to　shake　it　just　the　way　he　had　taught　Kaminsky。　But　his　vector　ports
were　damaged。　The　white　bat　fired　again；　a　stream　of　illuminated　shells；　and　a　spray　of　flames
sheathed　Blansher’s　entire　tail。　The　shots　had　penetrated　the　tanks　of　the　Thunderbolt’s　rocket
motor；　and　the　hypergolic　propellants　had　ignited。　The　huge　thread　of　flame　was　greenish…white
with　intense　heat。　Blansher　started　to　dive。
Ignoring　the　white　killer；　Kaminsky　scream…dived　after　Umbra　Two。　Blansher’s　plane　was　now
on　fire　from　nose　to　tail。
“Get　out！　Get　out；　Milan；　eject！”
“…can’t！　I…　can’t…　canopy’s　jammed！”
“Blansher！”
The　Thunderbolt　no　longer　resembled　a　plane。　It　fell　like　a　comet。　A　meteor。　An　attenuated　ball
of　fire；　almost　too　bright　to　look　at。　But　diving　with　it；　Kaminsky　could　not　look　away。　He　knew
fire。　He　knew　the　terror　of　a　burning　plane　all　too　well。
Blansher　started　screaming。　The　fire　was　inside　the　cockpit　now。　The　voice　on　the　vox　no　longer
seemed　human。
Kaminsky　was　strangely　relieved　when　the　inferno　hit　the　sea。
Obarkon　watched　with　curiosity　as　the　Imperial’s　wing…man　made　the　strange　choice　to　follow
his　burning　leader　down。　How　odd。　As　if　there　was　anything　he　could　do。
It　rendered　the　wingman　an　extraordinarily　easy　target。　Obarkon　turned　into　a　dive；　feeling　the
grav　armour　clench　around　his　body　and　the　cardio…centrifuges　throb。　He　blinked　to　settle　the
gunsight　focus　and　put　the　orange　pipper　on　the　wingman’s　tail。
Attention…
Target　found。
Just　a　little　more。
A　warning　sounded。　Obarkon　glanced　up　and　instinctively　raised　his　nose；　losing　the　target
immediately。　Shots　stripped　past　him。
“Someone’s　eager　to　die；”　he　muttered。
Darrow　came　in　hard　and　tight；　firing　as　soon　as　he　dared；　but　leaving　it　late　enough　to　be　in
positive　range。　The　white　bat　pulled　out　of　his　line　and　banked　away。
Darrow　turned　and　chased　it。　This　wasn’t　going　to　be　like　the　last　time。　He　wasn’t　going　to　run；
frantic；　in　an　outclassed　machine。　He　was　a　Thunderbolt　pilot　now。　The　bastard　white　bat　that　had
slaughtered　all　of　Hunt　Flight—and　Heckel　too；　in　a　way—was　going　to　be　the　one　doing　the
running。
A　vector…aided　roll　and　a　burst　of　speed　put　Darrow　closer　and　closer　still；　despite　the　enemy’s
excellent　out…rolls。　Darrow　got　two　brief　locks；　but　lost　them　both。　He　waited　for　the　third。
Interesting；　Obarkon　thought；　his　pulse　not　even　drifting　in　its　rhythm。　This　one　has　some　merit。
He　flies　by　the　claws。　If　this　had　been　a　quieter　hour；　he　would　have　enjoyed　sport　with　this　child。
But　this　was　the　day　of　days；　and　there　was　still　great　work　to　be　done。　This　duel　was　over。
The　white　bat　dropped　down　to　an　altitude　of　no　more　than　fifty　metres　and　proceeded　to　whip　in
and　out　of　the　inlets　and　bays　at　speeds　that　Darrow　thought　he’d　never　be　able　to　follow。　Every　turn
threatened　to　smash　them　into　a　sheer　cliff　or　clip　a　rocky　outcrop。
He　stayed　on　the　bat　as　long　as　he　could　and　then　was　forced　to　climb　by　a　jutting　atoll　that　he
knew　he　would　not　otherwise　avoid。　The　white　bat　let　him　go　over；　then　sliced　up　after　him；　firing。
Darrow　twisted　out；　but　the　bat　locked　him　cold。
Then　shots　sprayed　in　from　a　second　Thunderbolt。　It　was　Marquall。
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Viltry　put　all　his　power　into　a　last　turn　and　fired　again。　Now　at　last　he　disturbed　the　crimson　bats
enough　to　break　them　from　Jagdea’s　tail。　One　looped　back　to　engage　him。　“Switch　out！”　Jagdea
ordered。
Viltry　obeyed。　Ignoring　the