Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第44部分

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don’t　just　mean　the　Phantine；　I　mean　the　Navy　boys　too。　We　fly　to　our　limits　for　another　week；　keep
knocking　the　bastards　back；　and　maybe　we　have　a　chance。　Once　they　start　hitting　the　northern　coast；
it’s　checkmate；　but　they’ve　got　to　get　past　us　first。　Regular　combat　patrols。　Snap　calls。　Up　and　into
them。　We　could　fend　them　off。　Unless…”
“Unless　what；　Bree？”
“Unless　they　send　everything　they　have　at　us　at　once。”　Blansher　sighed。　“That’s　not　a　scenario　I
want　to　think　about。”
An　odd　look　abruptly　crossed　Jagdea’s　face。　She　turned。　“It　just　occurred　to　me。　What　the　hell
am　I　going　to　fly？”
“We’ll　find　you　something；”　Blansher　promised。
He　walked　her　over　to　one　of　the　freight　elevators　and　dropped　them　down　into　the　storage
chamber　under　number　three　hangar。　Teams　of　fitters　were　at　work　down　here　too。　In　the　glowglobe
half…light；　welding　sparks　showered　up；　bright　and　thick；　and　panel…guns　whined　and
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thumped。　The　cradle　bays　down　in　the　storage　chamber　were　circled　around　a　central　elevator
platform　that　lifted　planes　up　onto　the　main　deck。
Serial　Zero…Two　sat　on　one　of　the　repair　cradles。
“Came　in　on　one　of　the　heavy　transports；”　said　Blansher。　“The　techs　say　she’s　fit　to　fly。”
“Great　throne　of　gold！”　Jagdea　exclaimed。　“I　never　thought　I’d　see　her　again。　I　expected　to　make
do　with　a　spare　from　the　depot。”
“Praise　be　the　God…Emperor　and　the　diligence　of　his　Munitorum。　Despite　the　urgency；　they　got　a
hell　of　a　lot　of　equipment　out　of　Theda　at　the　end　there。”
“Speaking　of　spares；”　Jagdea　said；　raising　her　voice　to　be　heard　over　a　blast　of　riveting；　“what
are　those？”
Alongside　Zero…Two；　four　other　Thunderbolts　sat　on　cradles。
“Oh；　they　shouldn’t　be　here。　The　transports　brought　in　a　lot　of　unassigned　machines。　Spares。　Or
leftovers　from　units　that　don’t　exist　any　more。　That　sort　of　thing。　They　gave　us　four　of　them　because
Umbra　was　listed　as　a　twelve　element　wing。　I　explained　to　the　Munitorum　clerk　we　only　had　eight
pilots；　and　he　just　got　concerned　I　was　upsetting　his　book　keeping。”
Jagdea　walked　round　the　machines。　One　was　an　ex…Raptor　bird；　in　a　scratched　black　livery。
Another　was　from　a　unit　that　favoured　pale　tan　with　dazzle　patterns。　The　other　two　were　bare…metal
silver；　recently　delivered　replacements　that　had　yet　to　be　assigned。
“Anyway；　I’ve　got　the　depot　working　on　it；”　Blansher　said。　“I　don’t　want　them　wasted。　And　I’m
sure　we’re　not　the　only　wing　to　have　been　given　machines　we　can’t　use。　They’ll　get　shipped　out　in
the　next　few　days　to　units　that　can　use　them。”
“No；”　said　Jagdea　firmly。
“What？”　Blansher　asked。
She　looked　at　him。　“Mil；　the　Imperium　needs　to　get　everything　it’s　got　aloft　now；　not　in　the　next
few　days。　We’ve　got　planes　without　pilots。　Good　for　us！　I’ll　bet　the　evac　barges　brought　in　dozens　of
decent　pilots　without　machines。　Let’s　find　them！　Let’s　use　them　now！”
“Well；　I　guess…”
“It’s　called　pragmatism；”　she　said。　“Inform　the　clerks　that　these　planes　are　assigned　to　Umbra。
Cancel　the　transfer。”
“Are　you　sure？”
“Yes；　I’m　sure。”　She　turned　and　called　out。　“Mister　Hemmen？”
The　fitter　ran　across　to　her。　“Mamzel？”
“Make　these　planes　airworthy　and　dress　them　in　Umbra　paint　schemes。”
“Yes；　mamzel。　Directly。”
“Soon　as　I　can；”　she　said　to　Blansher；　“I　intend　to　have　Umbra　up　to　full　strength。　I’m　going　to
find　us　some　willing　volunteers。”
Lucerna　AB；　23。12
The　fan　assemblies　were　still　venting　thick　exhaust　fumes　out　of　the　hangar。　Jagdea　took　off　her
helmet　and　got　down　from　Zero…Two。
She　glanced　at　the　three　cannon…shell　holes　in　the　tail　plating。　“Patch　that；　please；”　she　said　to
her　head　fitter。　“Rearm　and　refuel。”
“Yes；　commander。”
She　walked　up　the　dispersal　tunnel　and　entered　the　ready　room；　throwing　her　helmet；　mask　and
gloves　onto　the　couch。　The　man　who　had　been　sitting　in　one　of　the　armchairs　for　some　time　stood　up
swiftly。
“At　ease；”　she　said。　“Thanks　for　coming。　You’ll　have　to　forgive　my　temper。　A　patrol　turned　into
a　full…on　brawl。　But　we　stung　two　for　no　losses；　thanks　be。”
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She　went　over　to　the　cradenza　and　poured　herself　a　stiff　amasec。　“I　told　my　crews　this　was　a　‘no
drinking’　night；　so　be　good　and　don’t　let　on。”
The　man　nodded。
“Commander；　I　was　wondering　why　you　sent　for　me？”　said　August　Kaminsky。
Jagdea　slid　open　a　filing　cabinet　drawer　and　pulled　out　a　bulging　file　and　some　data…slates。
“A　bit　of　driving；　Mr　Kaminsky。　That’s　what　you　told　me　you　were　good　for　these　days。　A　bit　of
driving　for　the　Munitorum。”
“Yes；　commander。”
“Well；　I’d　like　you　to　do　a　bit　of　driving　for　me。　There’s　an　I…XXI　Thunderbolt　downstairs；　and
I’d　like　to　have　your　name　stencilled　under　the　cockpit。”
Kaminsky　gazed　at　her。　His　eyes　shone　with　what　seemed　like　anger。　The　skin　of　his
unblemished　cheek　flushed　almost　as　pink　as　the　mass　of　bums　on　the　other　side。
“Is　that　a　joke；　commander？　If　it　is；　I　think　it’s　in　pretty　poor　taste。　I　can’t　fly　Thunderbolts。　I
can’t　fly；　period。”
“I　beg　to　differ。　I　was　in　that　Cyclone　with　you。　That　was　instinct；　Kaminsky。　Pure　instinct。　I’ve
never　seen　finer。”
“But；　commander…”
“I’m　offering　you　a　place　in　my　wing；　Mr　Kaminsky。　Or　should　I　say　“Major’？　I　called　up　your
log　records。　Sixteen　years；　wing　leader　grade；　a　career　tally　of　seventeen　confirmed　kills。　This　is
your　chance　to　get　back　in　the　game。　To　fly　and　fight　for　your　world。　Are　you　going　to　refuse　me？”
Kaminsky　raised　his　stiff；　plastek　hand。　“Commander；　I　was　rated　not　airworthy　because　of　this；
not　because　I　was　unwilling　to　fight。　The　Commonwealth　just　hasn’t　got　the　augmetic　resources　to
fix　up　pilots　like　me。　With　this　hand；　I　can’t　control　throttle；　stick　and　guns。　Shit；　you　know　that；
Jagdea。”
Jagdea　nodded。　“Yes；　that’s　a　problem。　The　Navy　could　resource　you　a　proper　augmetic　implant；
but　we　don’t　have　much　time。　Certainly　not　enough　time　for　you　to　undergo　implantation　surgery。
So　I　talked　to　my　fitters。　They’re　an　ingenious　lot；　fitters。　One　suggested　mounting　the　trigger
assembly　on　the　top　of　the　throttle　lever；　but　we　all　thought　that　might　get　in　the　way。　Then　Mr
Racklae　had　a　notion。　He’s　going　to　wire　up　the　weapons　systems　to　a　voice　activator。　It’ll　take　a
little　getting　used　to；　I　realise；　but　you’ve　got　some　serious　familiarisation　to　do　anyway。　Bottom
line；　Kaminsky；　your　guns　can　be　voice　controlled。　Your　impairment　need　not　bar　your　from　combat
service。”
Kaminsky　continued　to　stare　at　her。　“I—”　he　began。
“Think　it　over；　major。　If　you　decide　to　pass；　I　have　other　candidates　to　consider。　But　you　were
my　first　choice。”
There　was　a　knock　on　the　door。
“Yes？”
Marquall　looked　in。　“Commander？　Do　you　have　a　minute？”
“Be　right　there；”　she　said。　She　glanced　back　at　Kaminsky。　“Help　yourself　to　a　drink　if　you　like。
I’ll　be　back　in　a　while。”
She　left　Kaminsky　in　the　ready　room　and　went　outside。　Marquall　peered　back　through　the
doorway　with　a　frown。　“What’s　he　doing　here；　commander？”　he　whispered；　dubiously。
“He’s　having　a　long；　hard　think；　Marquall。　What　did　you　need？”
“A　guy’s　just　turned　up　in　the　hangar。　Says　he　knows　you。”
“Hello；　Jagdea；”　said　Viltry。
“The　Emperor　protects！　Viltry？”
She　hurried　to　him　and　shook　his　hand。　He　looked　like　hell。　Unshaven；　his　clothes　dirty　and　torn；
and　he’d　lost　a　lot　of　weight。
“Viltry；　it　was　posted　that　you　were　dead；”　she　said。
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“So　they　keep　telling　me。　The　Munitorum　refuses　to　believe　I　exist。”
“But　your　machine　did　go　down？”
“Yeah。”
“Your　crew？”
Viltry　shook　his　head。
“I’m　sorry。”
“By　the　time　I　got　back　to　Theda；　everyone　was　leaving。　I　jumped　on　a　barge；　wound　up　here。”
“Where’s　the　rest　of　Halo　Flight？”
Viltry　shrugged。　“Don’t　know。　I　was　talking　to　a　Navy　crewman　down　in　the　food　line；　and　he
said　he　thought　a　Phantine　outfit　was　stationed　here；　so　I　came　to　see　for　myself。　I　can’t　pretend　I’m
not　disappointed　you’re　not　Halo；　but　it’s　good　to　see　a　face　from　home。”
“What　are　you　going　to　do？”　asked　Jagdea。
“I　don’t　know；　exactly；”　he　confessed。　“Even　if　I　do　find　out　where　in　this　theatre　Halo’s　been
posted；　I　don’t　stand　much　chance　of　rejoining　them。　Until　the　Munitorum　acknowledges　my
existence；　I’m　not　eligible　for　transit　back　to　my　outfit。　I’m…　stuck。”
“Not　necessarily；”　said　Jagdea。　“Do　you　want　to　fly？”
“Well；　yes。　If　I　can。”
“You’re　fit。　You’ve　done　tours　on　Thunderbolts　too；　right？”
“Yes。　Bree；　what　do　you　have　in　mind？”
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DAY　268
Lucerna　AB；　07。30
A　clear　day　over　the　desert。　Fine；　bright；　light　conditions。　Slight　crosswind。　He　opened　the　throttle
and　the　big；　brutal　Imperial　plane　climbed　effortlessly。
Ironic；　Kaminsky　thought。　Conditions　had　been　just　like　this　that　day　he’d—
The　last　time　he’d　flown。
“Make　your　track　four…one…six；”　the　vox　said。
“Copy　that；　Lead；”　Kaminsky　replied。
“And　keep　an　eye　on　your　auspex。　The　dial　top　right　of　the　screen…plate　adjusts　gain　if　you　need
better　resolution　on　a　merged　return。”
“Got　that；　thank　you。”
Kaminsky　pushed　the　stick　over　gently；　depressing　the　rudder　bar。　Good　response。　The
Thunderbolt　was　everything　he’d　imagined　it　would　be。
“Contacts！　Ten　o’clock！”　the　vox　suddenly　chimed。
Kaminsky　glanced　round；　saw　the　flash　on　the　auspex。　Nothing　in　visual…　No；　there　it　was。　A
glint　of　sunlight　off　metal；　hard　and　high　up。
He　started　to　climb　again。　The　bat　came　down　sharply；　screwing　out　of　its　dive。　He　thought　he’d
paced　the　intercept　well；　but　the　hostile　had　gone　under　him。
“Break！　Break；　or　he’ll　have　you！”
“Trying！”　Kaminsky　responded。　He　made　a　violent　left…hand　roll。　It　was　right　on　his　tail　now。
How　the　hell　had　it　managed　that？
“Break！　Break！”
Tone　warning。　He　was　locked　hard。　“Holy　Throne！”　he　cursed；　and　tried　one　last　twist。　The　bat
began　to　fire。　Kaminsky’s　Thunderbolt　exploded。　The　stick　went　dead。　So　did　the　sky。　Blansher　slid
back　the　hood。　“Bad　luck；”　he　said。
“I　was　stupid；”　Kaminsky　said。　“It　was　a　basic　mistake。”
“You’re　still　getting　used　to　the　bird。　Thinking　too　much　about　the　controls　and　how　they
operate。　It’s　natural。　Once　the　mechanics　become　so　familiar　you　don’t　have　to　think　about　them；
your　mind　will　be　freed　up。”
Kaminsky　nodded。
“Besides；”　said　Blansher。　“I　know　you　don’t　have　much　experience　of　vector…thrust　aircraft。
Vectoring　gives　us　all　sorts　of　tricks　we　can　play　in　the　air。　The　bat　got　you　just　then　because　it
viffed　out　under　you。　And　if　you’d　done　the　same；　you’d　probably　have　evaded。”
“I　know；”　said　Kaminsky。　“But　it’s　difficult　not　to　think　in　terms　of　forward　motion。
Sidestepping；　stopping…　that　sort　of　thing　doesn’t　seem　natural。”
“It　needn’t　be　that　dramatic。　Just　a　little　touch　will　put　a　slight　non…ballistic　behaviour　into　your
performance。”
Blansher　glanced　at　his　chronometer。
“You’ve　been　in　the　simulator　rig　for　two　hours。　We　can　take　a　break　if　you　like。　Get　some
breakfast　into　you。”
“How　many　times　have　I　died　in　those　two　hours？”　Kaminsky　asked。
“Six；”　Blansher　grinned。
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“Let’s　try　it　again。”
Lucerna　AB；　07。43
“Commander？　Commander　Eads？”
Jagdea　ran　to　catch　up　with　the　man。　They　were　crossing　a　busy　gantry　walkway