Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第33部分

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FSB；　his　damaged　Bolt　had　given　up　and　dropped　nose…down　into　the　rainforest。　No　chute；
according　to　their　Lightning　pilot；　who　had　landed　safely。　No　chute。
Someone　came　out　under　the　awning　behind　Marquall；　and　Blansher　stiffened。　Marquall　turned。
It　was　Jagdea。　Oil　still　smeared　her　face。　She　looked　grim。　“Come　in；”　she　said。
The　three　of　them　crossed　to　her。
“What　about　the　others？”　Blansher　asked。
“Leave　them；”　Jagdea　said。　“They’re　having　fun。　I　don’t　want　to　spoil　it。”
They　walked　into　Operations。　Blansher　and　the　priest　stubbed　out　their　sticks　before　entering。
Blaguer　was　there；　leaning　over　a　display　intently　with　Oberlitz。　The　operators　sat　at　their
stations。
Commander　Marcinon　sat　at　a　desk；　reviewing　pict　slides　on　a　back…lit　writing　slope。
“Kills　confirmed；”　Jagdea　said。　“Two　for　me；　three　for　Mil。　One　for　you；　Vander。　Good　work。”
“Thank　you；　mamzel。”
“Zemmic　got　his　four。　Turns　out；　from　the　picts；　Asche　got　ten。”　Kautas　whistled。
“Unheard　of；”　said　Jagdea。　“Though　by　the　look　of　the　footage；　the　sky　was　so　full　of　bats　it
would　have　been　hard　not　to　hit　something。”
“Why　so　grim？”　Blansher　asked　her。
“We’ve　studied　the　recon　data　the　Lightning　was　so　desperate　to　bring　home。”
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Jagdea　went　over　to　the　light　table　and　cycled　up　some　images　into　the　projector。　Hololithic
shapes　formed　in　the　air。
“What’s　that？”　said　Kautas。　“I　can’t—”
“That’s　armour；　father；”　said　Jagdea。　“Seen　from　above　at　high　altitude。　Stalk　tanks　mostly；　but
also　lines　of　main　battle　tanks；　troop　transporters　and　some　super…heavies。”
“It　just　looks　like　specks；”　Kautas　said。
Marquall　stiffened。　He　was　more　used　to　reading　aerial　picts　than　the　priest。
“Holy　Throne…”　he　sighed。
“Summary　count　is　nine　thousand　units；”　Jagdea　said。　“Coming　in　out　of　the　deserts。　These
enlargements　here　modify　for　dust　cover。　See　this？　Identified　as　the　sigil　markings　of　the　Blood
Pact。”
“They’re　coming　north；”　whispered　Blansher。
“Undoubtedly；”　said　Marcinon；　coming　over　to　join　them。　“The　Archenemy　clearly　believes　its
air　war　has　been　successful　in　hammering　the　Littoral。　The　ground　forces　of　Chaos　are　now
invading。　I　have　sent　word　to　the　coast。　The　evacuation　is　being　stepped　up。　I…　I　somehow　doubt
we　will　be　ready　in　time。”
“What　about　us？”　asked　Marquall。
“Us；　boy？”　Marcinon　asked。
“Sir；　we’re　in　the　direct　path　of　this。　The　enemy　land　forces　must　already　be　in　the　forests。”
“Yes。　Auspex　returns　paint　them　sixty　kilometres　south　and　moving　fast。　Operations　has　ordered
our　immediate　withdrawal。　Us；　and　all　the　other　FSBs　in　the　forest　region。　Transports　will　arrive
tomorrow　at　08。00　hours。”
Jagdea　looked　at　Marquall　and　saw　his　sadness。　“Time　to　retreat；”　she　said。　“It　happens。”
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DAY　264
Lake　Gocel　FSB；　06。30
The　extraction　transports　were　an　hour　and　a　half　away。　Marquall　watched　the　dawn　come　up。　All
through　that　long；　humid　night；　the　personnel　of　the　base　had　moved　with　a　single　purpose；　crating
up　equipment　and　spares；　bagging　possessions；　collapsing　habitents　and　getting　them　stowed；
deactivating　secondary　detection　systems。　The　prefabs　would　have　to　be　left；　and　the　mats　and　the
ramps　probably。　Certainly　the　ring　defences。　The　pilots　would　fly　the　planes　out；　the　transports
would　extract　the　rest。
Marquall　had　spent　the　small　hours　of　the　night　lugging　packages　around　and　making　sure　his
fitters　were　clearing　out　swiftly。　Racklae　insisted　they　run　a　full　pre…flight　on　Nine…Nine　before　they
went；　and　told　Marquall　plainly　that　two　fitters　would　stay　on　station　to　see　him　aloft。
The　pathways　were　full　of　hurrying　bodies　under　the　lamps；　and　the　huffing　shapes　of　laden
Sentinels。
Everyone　was　active　and　alert。　No；　not　everyone。　Several　of　Umbra　Flight　had　drunk　too　much
enjoying　Larice　Asche’s　celebration；　and　had　to　be　whipped　into　shape　by　Jagdea　and　Blansher。
Asche　herself；　and　Zemmic；　had　disappeared。　Their　tent…mates；　Del　Ruth　and　Cordiale；　picked
up　their　gear。　Marquall　volunteered　to　gather　up　Waldon’s　belongings；　but　Jagdea　said　she’d　do　that
herself。
The　sun　was　just　rising。　There　was　rain　in　the　air；　beating　on　the　leaf　canopy　and　the　shimmer
nets。　It　was　cold。
Weary；　strung　out；　Marquall　sat　down　by　a　tree　bowl；　and　wiped　the　rain　off　his　face。　He　had　to
go　to　dispersal　to　suit　up；　and　then　to　his　bird　in　time　for　the　pull　out。
Shades　hurried　past　him　along　the　pathway。　Fitters　carrying　crates。　A　power　lifter。
He　jumped　as　he　heard　a　strange；　crackling　noise。　It　went　on　for　some　seconds；　so　odd　and　loud；
that　he　failed　to　realise　at　first　that　his　alarm　bracelet　was　sounding。
Panic　hit　the　base。
Marquall　realised　that　the　crackling　noise　was　the　sound　of　the　automated　Tarantula　guns　along
the　perimeter　firing　out　into　the　forest。
They’d　been　tripped。
“Oh　hell！”　he　yelped　and　leapt　up。　His　kit　was　nearby；　and　he　reached　into　the　haversack；
yanking　out　his　service　pistol　and　a　belt　of　battery　clips。
There　was　a　bright　flash　in　the　trees　ahead　of　him　as　something　ell
fyceline　and　burning　oil。　Gunfire　chattered。
The　enemy　had　arrived；　far　earlier　than　expected。
Lasfire　zipped　through　the　air；　ripping　apart　shimmer　nets　and　sections　of　the　arboreal　canopy。
The　chunter　of　the　Tarantulas　increased。
“Throne　alive！”　Marquall　said。　Klaxons　were　now　wailing。　Pistol　raised；　he　ran　across　to　one　of
the　maintenance　shelters　and　ducked　inside。
Heavy　gauge　lasfire　crisped　the　air　outside。　The　flak…board　shivered。
Marquall　ran　across　the　floor　space　of　the　shelter　and　fell　over　something。
“What　the　bloody　hell…？”　a　voice　murmured。
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Marquall　looked　down。　Asche　and　Zemmic；　both　naked；　were　curled　up　together；　half…covered
by　a　section　of　blast　curtain。
“Marquall？”　Larice　narrowed　her　eyes；　bleary　and　annoyed。　“There　better　be　a　bloody　good
reason　why—”
A　shelter　nearby　exploded　loudly；　raining　debris　out。
“Shit！”　Larice　Asche　said；　leaping　up　and　pulling　on　her　flight　pants。　She　kicked　Zemmic。
“Get　up！　Wake　up！”　she　cried　at　him。
Zemmic　sat　up；　blinking。
Asche　had　got　her　vest　on　now。　She　turned　to　Marquall。　“What’s　the　situation？”　she　said。
“They’ve　found　us；”　Marquall　replied。　He　was　hunkered　in　the　opposite　doorway；　looking　out；
gun　ready。　“I　think　they—”
He　shut　up　quickly。　Three　figures；　armoured　in　red；　were　running　up　towards　the　side　of　the
shelter。　Without　thinking；　Marquall　leaned　out　and　shot　the　first　one　through　the　head。
He　dropped　hard。
Shaking；　Marquall　realised　the　warrior　had　been　wearing　a　snarling　mask　of　black　metal。　Blood
Pact。　Blood　Pact。
Shots　ripped　his　way；　punching　holes　in　the　side　of　the　shelter。　Her　boots　still　undone；　Asche
joined　him　by　the　doorway；　and　started　shooting　her　own　service　pistol　into　the　trees。
“Where’s　Zemmic？”　Marquall　asked。
“Running？　Who　cares？”　Asche　replied。　She　fired　again。
Bright　yellow；　a　stalk　tank　ripped　into　the　outer　clearing　of　the　concealed　base。　Its　underslung
turrets　recoiled　as　they　spat　out　bursts　of　heavy　las。
A　section　of　the　maintenance　block　exploded；　sending　shingles　and　pieces　of　spar　into　the　sky。　A
kinderwood　nee　creaked　and　fell　over。　Stripped…away　shimmer　netting　revealed　pale　slices　of　dawn
sky。　The　clattering　stalk　tank　felled　more　trees；　and　their　collapse　severed　a　series　of　power　cables
that　showered　white　crumbs　of　light　out　in　a　savage　flurry。
The　Blood　Pact　warriors　rushed　them。　Marquall　and　Asche；　decently　covered；　opened　fire　into
the　charging　figures　and　killed　both　of　them。　It　took　a　surprising　number　of　shots　to　stop　the　enemy
shock　troopers。　The　necessary　blasts　exhausted　their　clips。
Asche　threw　up　noisily。
“Not　so　easy　when　it’s　face…to…face；　eh？”　Marquall　asked；　dragging　the　retching　girl　upright。
“It’s　the　drink；　you　idiot；”　she　coughed；　spitting。
Lasfire　tore　past　them。　The　stalk　tank　reached　one　of　the　matt…decks。
A　Commonwealth　trooper　with　a　tube　launcher　killed　it　dead。　The　blast　tore　out　a　section　of　the
canopy　and　lifted　smoke　into　the　air　clear　of　the　forest。
Calm　returned　for　a　while。　The　attack　had　been　from　an　advance　force。　Marquall　prayed　no　more
would　arrive　until　the　final　minutes　of　the　evacuation　had　counted　off。　Just　before　eight；　they　heard
the　sound　of　Navy　mass…lifters　powering　in　across　the　lake。　The　huge　transporters　settled　on　the
shoreline　mud　and　opened　their　gaping　maws　to　accept　the　lines　of　aircrew　personnel；　fitter　teams
and　Sentinels。　Pack　after　pack　of　machinery　and　material　was　carried　on　board。
About　then；　drawn　in　by　the　land　attack；　the　enemy　air　cover　reached　Gocel。　The　base’s　planes
were　just　beginning　to　lift　off。
Razors　swept　overhead；　dropping　submunitions。　One　of　the　transporters　at　the　lakeshore　went　up
in　a　haze　of　flames。　Blansher　launched　clear。　So　did　Van　Tull　and　Del　Ruth；　then　Cordiale。　Ortho
Blaguer’s　rising　Thunderbolt　collided　with　a　Razor　on　a　strafing　run。　The　blast　lit　the　sky。　Two　of
the　fleeing　Lightnings；　one　of　them　Oberlitz’s；　were　stung　hard　as　they　attempted　to　climb。　Oberlitz
went　down　in　the　lake；　the　other　into　the　trees　on　the　far　shore。
Asche　pulled　away。　Then　two　of　the　Raptors。　A　Lightning。　Another　Raptor　launched；　and　was
blown　apart。　Zemmic　got　away。　Ranfre。　Then　Jagdea；　her　Bolt　struck　twice　by　heavy　passing　fire。
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Marquall　ran　to　Nine…Nine。　The　sky　was　on　fire。　He　found　Racklae　and　the　chief　fitter’s　number
two　waiting　for　him。
“Go！　Leave　now！”　Marquall　yelled。
“Not　before　we　see　you　safe；　sir！”　said　Racklae。
“Your　transport　is　about　to　leave；　mister！”　Marquall　shouted。
Las…rounds　ripped　out　of　the　trees。　Racklae’s　number　two　dropped；　his　head　fused　into　a
misshapen　blob。
“Racklae；　go！　Now；　for　Throne’s　sake！”
Marquall　fired　his　pistol　into　the　tree…line。
“Cables　are　disconnected；　sir。　You’re　clean！”　Racklae　bellowed。
“Go；　Racklae！　Go！　Go！”　yelled　Marquall。
“Give　that　to　me；　for　Throne’s　sake；”　Kautas　shouted；　appearing　from　nowhere　and　snatching
the　pistol　out　of　Marquall’s　hand。
“Run　now；　Mister　Racklae；”　Kautas　said。　Racklae　turned　and　began　to　sprint　for　the　shore。　The
air　was　full　of　hard　rounds　and　las…streaks。
Kautas　started　to　fire　the　pistol。　“And　you；　Vander　Marquall；”　he　said。
“Father…”
“Close　your　bloody　lid；　boy。”
Marquall　slammed　his　canopy　home。　He　lit　the　engines；　and　kicked　over　the　vector　thrusters；
ripping　up　through　the　remains　of　the　shimmer　tents　into　the　smoke…filled　air。
He　managed　one　last；　frantic　look　down。
Far　below；　amongst　me　trees　and　flames；　Marquall　saw　a　figure　with　its　arms　spread　wide；　as　if
in　benediction。　Ayatani　Kautas；　his　robes　tugged　by　Nine…Nine’s　down…draft；　turned　and　ran　towards
the　red…armoured　soldiers　pouring　in　along　the　pathways。
The　last　time　Marquall　saw　him；　Kautas　was　a　distant　shape；　sinking　to　his　knees。　Bright　lasshots
flickered　in　all　directions。　Kautas　held　Marquall’s　pistol　out　before　him；　firing　over　and　over
again。
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FATE’S　WHEEL
THEDA
Imperial　year　773。M41；　day　264　…　day　266
121
DAY　264
Theda　MAB　South；　08。30
Even　to　someone　unfamiliar　with　the　arcane　sigils　of　Navy　plotting　symbols；　it　would　have　been
obvious　that　a　huge　fight　was　going　on　over　the　Littoral。　Nine　of　the　flight　controllers　were　now
involved；　Eads　included。　Darrow　stoo