Double Eagle(科幻战争)-第7部分

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sief。　Such　was　the　fate　of　Lord　Militant　Humel’s　great　“land　armada”；　which　had　almost
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reached　the　gateways　of　the　Trinity　Hives　to　purge　Enothis；　before　being　turned　back　by　the
unbelievable　ferocity　of　replenished　Archenemy　forces。
The　abject　wreck　of　the　Fury　of　Pardua　seemed　to　Captain　LeGuin　an　appropriate　symbol　for
this　disastrous　retreat：　a　great；　proud　beast　from　another　age；　beaten　to　extinction　by　the　foe　and　the
climate；　left　to　rot　into　the　consuming　sands　where　only　future　archaeologists　might　ever　expose　its
dry　bones　again。
LeGuin　looked　north；　watching　the　dust　trail　of　the　vehicles　that　had　passed　ahead。　Men　trudged
beside　crawling　machines；　as　thirsty　for　water　as　the　vehicles　were　for　oil。　Some　rode　on　fenders　or
straddled　body　plating。　Every　few　kilometres　something　needed　to　be　repaired；　dug　free　or　pulled
out　of　soft　sand　by　the　Atlas　teams。　The　Fury　was　not　the　first　piece　of　armour　to　be　abandoned　at
the　roadside。　The　miserable　route　back　to　the　Trinity　Hives　was　marked　with　the　corpses　of
machines　that　had　died　along　the　way。
Died　or　been　killed。　The　Archenemy　was　not　letting　them　run　unmolested。
Klodas　had　flagged　down　a　half…track　weapons　carrier；　and　his　crew　was　formed　into　a　human
chain　to　ship　what　was　salvageable　from　the　Conqueror。
“Don’t　take　too　long；”　LeGuin　told　him。
LeGuin　walked　back　to　his　own　steed；　wiping　his　brow　with　a　hand　that　came　away　black　with
perspiration　and　grit。　As　he　walked；　he　looked　up　into　the　relentless　sky。　Where　would　the　next
attack　come　from？　Up　there？　Or；　as　the　vox…reports　from　back　down　the　column　suggested；　were　the
enemy　land　forces　now　beginning　to　nip　at　their　heels　too？
The　Line　of　Death　sat　waiting　for　its　commander。　As　he　climbed　up；　he　patted　its　flank；　even
though　the　sun…roasted　metal　scorched　his　hand。　The　Line　was　an　Exterminator…type　assault　tank；　its
chassis　the　same　basic　pattern　as　the　heavier　Conqueror。　Its　turret…mounted　twin　autocannons　could
produce　an　astonishingly　savage　field　of　rapid　firepower。　The　tank　was　painted　dust…red；　though　that
wash　was　scuffed　down　to　the　chrome　base　metal　in　many　places。　Its　name　was　painted　on　the
turret’s　mantlet；　and　its　regiment—8th　Pardus　Armoured—was　embossed　above　the　sponsons　beside
an　Imperial　double　eagle　crest。
LeGuin　clambered　over　the　drums　of　spare　munitions　webbed　to　the　rear　cowling　and　hopped　up
into　the　turret。　Matredes；　his　gunner；　was　waiting　for　him　in　the　top　hatchway。
“We　going？”
“Yeah。”
Matredes　shouted　down　to　Emdeen；　the　driver；　and　the　VI2　engine　revved。　They　lurched
onwards；　treads　clattering；　and　rejoined　the　file。
The　Line　had　not　been　LeGuin’s　for　long　and；　though　he　tried　to　bond　with　the　steed；　they　were
not　tight。　For　most　of　his　career；　LeGuin　had　been　a　Destroyer　man；　commander　of　the　tank　killer
Grey　Venger。　Thirty…four　kills　they’d　shared；　until　Venger　had　fallen　to　enemy　fire　on　the　shrine
world　Hagia　three　years　before。　LeGuin　might　have　happily　burned　with　his　steed；　but　his　life　had
been　saved　by　the　selfless　action　of　an　infantry　scout　called　Mkoll；　a　man　LeGuin　respected　enough
not　to　be　angry　with。
On　his　return　to　regimental　headquarters；　they’d　assigned　LeGuin　this　can。　He’d　wanted　another
Destroyer；　naturally；　for　that’s　where　his　skills　and　training　lay；　but　there　were　just　none　available。
On　the　rare　occasions　one　of　that　ancient　marque　came　up　for　transfer　or　reassignment；　it　was
usually　a　reconditioned　hulk　with　lousy　bearings；　a　rebored　engine　and　some　useless　firework　in
place　of　the　precious；　specialist　L/D　cannon。
So；　disguising　his　disappointment；　LeGuin　had　become　an　assault　tanker；　riding　his　new　steed　in
with　Humel’s　doomed　Enothian　campaign。
The　Line　spurred　forward。　Under　the　present　circumstances；　the　memory　of　his　disappointment
seemed　ridiculously　insignificant　and　made　LeGuin　smile。　So；　he　hadn’t　been　assigned　the　steed　he
wanted。　Shame。　If　only　that　was　the　worst　thing　he　had　to　deal　with　now。
All　that　mattered　at　this　moment　was　what　was　going　to　get　them　first：　the　desert　or　the　enemy。
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Even　with　the　internal　compartments　filter…sealed；　it　was　like　an　oven　in　the　Exterminator。
LeGuin　dared　not　use　the　air　exchanger　for　fear　of　depleting　fuel　even　further。　Matredes　was
studying　the　charts　by　the　light　of　a　red　bulb　overhead；　and　he　said　something。　LeGuin　had　put　on
his　ear…baffles　already；　and　now　he　switched　on　the　internal　intercom。
“Say　again？”
“Another　forty　kilometres；　and　we　should　be　reaching　rougher　terrain…　open　karst。　That’ll　mark
the　beginnings　of　the　rift。”
LeGuin　nodded。　The　rift；　and　the　mountains　beyond　it；　represented　the　second　and　third　of　the
great　barriers　the　columns　would　have　to　overcome　in　order　to　reach　safe　territory。　The　desert　was
just　the　beginning。　But　it　gave　him　some　sense　of　hope。　These　were　palpable　markers　that　he　could
tick　off。
LeGuin　popped　the　hatch　and　sat　up；　taking　the　electroscope　Matredes　passed　to　him。　The　Line
of　Death　was　travelling　in　the　forward　quarter　of　the　retreating　column。　According　to　unconfirmed
rumours；　some　of　the　Imperial　elements　had　already　reached　the　Makanite　passes；　on　the　doorstep　of
safety。　According　to　other　rumours；　enemy　rapid　assault　units　had　reached　there　too；　gunning　to
deny　them。
He　scanned　ahead　through　the　scope；　trying　to　brace　against　the　lurch　of　the　machine。　Every
view　was　filtered　by　heat　haze　and　whirling　dust。　But　there　did　now　seem　to　be　something　far　ahead。
A　slender　blue…white　line。　Mountains；　or　a　daylight　dream？
The　vox　chattered　something　he　didn’t　quite　catch。　A　moment　later；　he　didn’t　need　it　repeated。
Flickering　shadows　shot　north　overhead；　and　he　heard　the　rush　of　afterburners　above　the　roar　of　the
tank’s　engine。
Two　dark　red　shapes　in　the　bright　sky；　moving　as　fast　as　arrows；　curled　in　low　above　the　column
ahead。　He　saw　flashes；　sprays　of　sand；　then　heard　the　rolling　crump　of　detonating　munitions。　A
kilometre　away；　something　caught　fire　and　began　to　smudge　the　sky　with　a　thick　spout　of　oily；　black
smoke。
“Alarm！　Alarm！”　he　shouted　into　the　vox。　The　Line’s　turret　weapons　were　already　cranked　to
maximum　elevation；　but　there　was　no　point　wasting　ammo　at　this　range。　In　the　distance；　he　saw　the
choppy　flashes　of　tracers　from　Hydra　carriers　in　the　front　file。
Two　more　bats　went　over；　using　the　convoy’s　long　dust　wake　as　a　marker　to　line　up　on　their
targets。　Matredes　was　rotating　the　turret；　but　LeGuin　shook　his　head。　A　troop　truck　three　vehicles
forward　of　them　leapt　into　the　air　in　a　brilliant　eruption　of　flame；　and　showered　burning　debris　in　all
directions。
They　hadn’t　even　seen　that　one　coming。
The　vehicles　ahead　of　them　swerved。　The　hit　truck　was　a　stricken　mass　of　blazing；　twisted　metal。
Burnt　bodies；　some　stripped　naked　by　the　blast；　littered　the　sand。
Another　troop　truck；　turning　to　avoid　the　ruin；　hit　soft　sand　and　dug　in。　It　rocked　violently；
wheels　spinning　and　digging　deeper；　engine　over…revving。　The　infantrymen　in　the　back　leapt　down
with　spades　and　chains。
“Full　stop！　Get　the　cable！”　LeGuin　yelled　to　Matredes；　who　clambered　out　at　once　with
Mergson；　one　of　the　sponson　gunners。
“Tie　it　up！　Tie　it　up！”　LeGuin　shouted　at　the　men　on　the　ground　as　Matredes　and　the　gunner
fetched　the　hawser　coil　from　the　starboard　panniers。　They　had　to　be　quick。　The　enemy　warplanes
habitually　dumped　their　payloads　on　the　head　of　the　column　to　slow　it　down。　Then　they　delighted　in
coming　about　down　the　stationary　line；　strafing　as　they　went　home。
“Come　on！”
Surface…to…air　from　the　column　ahead。　Tracer；　some　wild　cannon　fire；　small…arms。　Some　idiot
tried　a　shoulder　rocket。　It　went　up；　useless　as　a　white　flare　in　daylight。　Where　were　they？　Where　the
bloody　hell　w—
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Booom！　One　went　right　over　at　zero　altitude；　rocking　the　tank　on　its　torsion　bars　with　the
Shockwave。　By　the　time　it　had　gone　by　them；　it　was　already　pulling　off。　The　track　five　hundred
metres　ahead　was　swathed　in　fyceline　smoke　from　the　deluge　of　cannon　fire　it　had　stitched　down　the
line。　New　fires　had　started。　Something　big—a　tank’s　magazine；　most　likely—blew　up　with　a　dry
roar。
“Come　on；　Matredes！”　LeGuin　bawled。　Most　of　the　troopers　had　thrown　themselves　flat　when
the　bat　went　over；　but　LeGuin’s　men　had　got　the　cable　lashed　around　the　truck’s　bull…bars。
“Ease　off！　Get　him　to　ease　off！”　LeGuin　shouted　to　Matredes；　indicating　the　truck　driver；　a
Munitorum　drone　who　was　still　thrashing　the　daylights　out　of　the　vehicle’s　drive　shaft　in　an　effort　to
self…right。
“Emdeen？”　LeGuin　voxed　to　his　driver。　“Nice　and　easy　back　step；　no　jerks；　or　you’ll　amputate
its　rear　end。”
“Understood；　captain；”　Emdeen　voxed　back。　“Fifteen　segs；　mind。”
Fifteen　segs。　LeGuin　laughed　despite　the　situation。　A　Pardus　tanker　was　permitted　to　sew　a　little
stylised　track　segment　to　the　edge　of　his　uniform　collar　for　every　year　served　active。　Emdeen　was
reminding　his　captain　that　he　was　a　fifteen　year　vet　and　didn’t　need　to　be　told　how　to　tow　a　cargo…10
successfully。
LeGuin　had　thirteen　segs　of　his　own。
His　laughter　stopped　as　he　saw　the　next　bat。　Low；　head　on；　red　as　an　open　wound。　Weapon　ports
flashed　as　it　came　on。　Tormentor…class；　LeGuin　presumed。　Maybe　a　Hell　Talon。　He　didn’t　care。　He
knew　tanks。　Planes　looked　all　the　same　to　him。　It　might　as　well　have　been　a　frigging　flying　pixie；　it
was　still　intent　on　murder。
The　bat’s　cannon　fire　chewed　along　the　track；　kicking　dirt　up　in　man…high　bursts　with　the　rapid
precision　of　an　industrial　belt　press。　A　STeG　armoured　car　wearing　the　dusty　livery　of　the　Enothian
PDF　ruptured　like　an　eggshell　and　rolled　on　its　side。　The　raking　blasts　atomised　the　front　end　of　the
water　tanker。
Then　the　shots　stitched　right　across　them。　Half　a　dozen　of　the　troopers　from　the　stranded　truck
were　thrown　down；　their　bodies　flung　aside；　or　into　the　air；　or　into　pieces。　The　air　filled　with　upflung
dust　and　dirt。　LeGuin　lost　sight　of　Matredes；　but　saw　Mergson　clearly　as　he　was　hit。
Everything　below　Mergson’s　waist　vaporised　in　a　blitz　of　flame　and　fibres。
“No！”　LeGuin　screamed　as　he　dropped　back　into　the　turret　for　cover；　three　shells　spanking　off
the　Line’s　top　armour。
The　bat　had　already　hammered　past；　but　as　he’d　dropped；　LeGuin　had　seen　a　second　one　right
behind　it。
Raging；　he　seized　the　yokes　of　the　main　turret’s　twin　mount；　threw　the　autoloader　lever　and
began　to　fire。
The　turret　rocked。　He　couldn’t　see　a　thing　through　the　prismatic　sight；　certainly　not　a　target。
A　waste　of　munitions？　Let　me　miss　first；　LeGuin　reasoned；　then　tell　me　that。
Over　the　Makanites；　12。01
Flight　time　was　coming　up　on　one　hour。　Twenty　thousand　metres　of　clear　air　down　to　the　frosted
mountains　below　them；　three…tenths　cloud。　Visibility　clear　to　forty…plus。
Strapped　in　his　flight　armour　and　breathing　air…mix　through　his　mask；　Viltry　looked　up　out　of　his
Marauder’s　shadowed　cockpit　into　the　bright　realm　of　the　sky。　Ahead；　and　slightly　high；　Hello
Hellfire　was　cruising　smoothly；　leaving　long；　straight；　pure…white　condensation　trails　behind　her。
The　sunlight　glinted　off　her　polished…alloy　silver。
It　　the　background　thrum　of　G　for　Greta’s　four　ramjets。
According　to　the　auspex；　there　was　nothing　in　the　air　except　their　six　plane　formation　for