priestly advice…giving thing than I thought。”
Kautas shook his head。 “I’m good for two things； Vander Marquall。 Drinking and being bitter。 I
waste every miserable day waiting for the end。”
“What end？”
“The end of this war。 The end of this world。 My own end。 Whatever comes first to free me so
that I can be with the Beati。”
Marquall got to his feet。 “Don’t think that way。 It smells too much of pessimism。 We can still
win； tell yourself that。 Here； and on Herodor。 The Crusade can still triumph。 The Beati can still live。
Even one man’s sour thoughts can lend the enemy strength。”
“Besides；” he added。 “Did it not occur to you that the Beati must have wanted you to be here？”
Kautas made no reply。 Marquall shrugged and headed back up the shore to the base。
“Marquall？”
He turned and looked back。 The priest had risen； looking after him。 “What； father？”
“That suggests she must have wanted you to be here too。”
Over the desert； 09。35
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The sky was dark with bats。 Literally； terrifyingly dark。 A mass bombing wave； perhaps five
hundred machines； was passing over like a slow； heavy storm cloud at about ten thousand metres。
Two more great swarms； equally large； were following it； ten kilometres back。
Most of it was simply moving past towards intended target zones in the Littoral； unconcerned by
the minor brawl down in the desert verges。 But a pack of bombers； twenty or more； had peeled off to
attack the retreat column； and several dozen escort fighters had committed with them。
Jagdea heard Del Ruth and one of the Raptor pilots frantically calling in warnings。
“Mass raids！ Five hundred…plus； coming in out of the desert； turning north…east； ten thousand。”
Jagdea herself was too busy pulling negative Gs to evade the fighters streaking in。 Hell Razors；
for the most part； but also machines of another pattern with long； dihedral wings cabaned towards
the rear of the hulls； so they looked like long…necked birds。 The Gs hung on her hard； and made her
gut squirm。
Jagdea levelled out in time to hear Operations ordering the Imperial fliers out。
“This is Umbra Lead；” she voxed。 “Negative。 I say again negative on that。 Get everything up in
support or that column is dead。”
As things stood； she and the other Umbra birds had less than twenty minutes left on site before
fuel needs would force them to extend for home。 The Raptors probably had less than ten。
The enemy fighter…bombers； all of them Hell Talons with lurid paint…schemes； were already
screaming down on the beleaguered Imperial ground forces； spilling out munitions pods that lit up
the desert with blankets of fuel…air explosive。 Tanks； weapons carriers； trucks and men all burned。
Frantic Hydra fire stitched up into the air。
She saw a black cruciform shape—one of the Raptors—hammer in under her； gunning for one of
the stooping Talons。 It missed； then carried on low； strafing the enemy tanks。 There was no sign of
Del Ruth or Van Tull； but she could hear their urgent calls—both brawling now。 They were still in
the game。
Jagdea did a high speed barrel…roll； and came in on a Talon that was just commencing its run。
Her first las…bursts went wide； but they were enough to scare it and force it to pull out steeply；
struggling with the weight of its unreleased payload。 She rolled back； corrected her speed； and fired
again； ripping las…shots through its aft section。 The whole machine disintegrated； a dry； fire…less
burst of metal parts and fuselage sections erupting with a cough of smoke。 Large pieces of debris
whickered backwards across her path； too fast for her to avoid collision。 She heard impacts across
her armour。 Something spinning and black cracked off her canopy and left a star…shaped craze in the
armoured glass。 Something else smacked across her wing and damaged an elevator； forcing her to
compensate hard with trim and rudder。 Yet another something—a large piece of drive unit； she
guessed—wallowed into her and bounced hard off serial Zero…Two’s snout。 That nearly knocked her
out of the sky。
Jagdea held on and brought the Thunderbolt true。 Sitting up in her harness； she could see the
buckled plating of her bird’s nose cone。 She had several damage warning tones。
She checked her display。 Lascannons off…line。 Either the impact had buckled the cannon barrels
themselves； or they’d severed the feeds to the ammunition battery。
She cancelled the alerts； then flipped the toggle over to quad。 Hard guns it was then； the only
ordnance she had left。
A Raptor went over her in the confusion； climbing hard。 Right in its wake came three Razors；
unloading on it relentlessly； then Van Tull； chasing the chasers。
Jagdea peeled over and hit the burners； rising fast and acute at Van Tull’s four。 She closed in
time to see him score。 Umbra Three’s lascannons sparked brightly and the lead Razor blew out
furiously like a dirty； smoky promethium fire。 Van Tull had to make a violent bank out to avoid the
falling； burning lump as it toppled back into gravity’s embrace。
Jagdea stayed on； sick in her mouth from the terrible stresses。 She barked off a hail of fire； but
she couldn’t save the Raptor。 Struck from behind； it wiggled； then shook。 Pieces of it fluttered off
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and it started to kick out black smoke。 It peeled away； straight down； flames encasing it。 She saw an
eject。 A chute in the air。
The remaining Razors had broken as soon as they’d got their kill； mainly； she supposed； to shake
her off。 They dropped below her； wide； turning out。 She pulled a neat vertical reverse； and came
back down after one of them。
It was red。 She glimpsed some sort of nose art that depicted evisceration。 It banked wildly；
trying to evade as it plunged towards the blazing desert floor。 She let it slide through her sights； left
to right； then bellied round so it came back again； rolling through right to left。 Tone lock。
Her thumb depressed。 She felt the shudder and stammer of the autocannons； saw the streaking
shells。 The Razor； apparently unharmed； levelled out； then folded up； bleeding smoke； and fell out
of the air。
Jagdea rolled off。 She saw the chute now； the Raptor pilot； swaying down through the coiling
smoke。
He burst。
He spurted apart； like vapour； like shredded meat。 His chute ripped into tatters and collapsed。
One of the unknown pattern enemy machines whipped past； flank guns still firing。
Rage engulfed her。 She hammered around after the long…necked killer； but the G was too much。
She only just got her mask off before her breakfast ejected itself； squeezed out of her body by the
turning force。
“God…Emperor… God…Emperor…” she gasped； hoarse。 She started to grey out； even though she
was now steady and level again。 She was light…headed。
She vomited again； then pulled the mask back on； sucking in the air…mix。 Her mouth tasted foul；
acid。 She knew she’d been flying level for too long； even before the lock alarm sounded。
There was something on her。 She tried to twist out； but her arms were weak； her body feverish。
She felt several solid hits。
Taking a deep breath； forcing herself together； she banked to port； and stormed through a quintet
of Hell Talons that had been coming in on the column。 She didn’t even have time to fire。
Her attacker was evidently good。 He stayed with her； maintaining an intermittent lock。
Snaking furiously； she scanned the sky and her rear picters。 Where was he？ Where was he？
There。 Right at her six； textbook。 Another of the long…necked raiders。 She got a glimpse of it。
Enough to see that； whatever these new machines were； they weren’t vector…thrust。 No nozzles。 Fast；
slick； but conventional。
Jagdea rose； viffed； and leap…frogged backwards； forcing the bat to slice in under her。
Then she dropped down on its tail and demonstrated how a gun…kill really worked。
The bat went up like a flare。
Jagdea pulled away； avoiding flak。 Over the vox； the two remaining Raptors signalled they were
done； fuel limit reached。 They were pulling out。
“Three？ Six？ You still with me？” Jagdea called。
“Affirmative； Lead；” Van Tull replied。
A pause。
“Confirm that； Lead；” voxed Del Ruth。 Her voice was brittle。 “Little busy…”
Wheeling around； Jagdea saw Del Ruth about a kilometre west and a thousand metres higher。
She was dogging it out with two Razors that kept high…turning her and spoiling her attempts to
break。 Del Ruth’s Thunderbolt was making white smoke。
Jagdea hit the throttle and chopped in right across the bats； forcing them to break instead。 She
reversed； inverting； seeing the killing ground swing up above her。
“I’ve got them；” she voxed。 “Break off and run； Aggie。”
“Yes； mamzel；” Agguila Del Ruth replied over the vox。 “Sorry。”
“Get home alive；” Jagdea ordered。
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She rolled back。 With Del Ruth and the Raptors gone； there was only herself and Van Tull left in
the air。
Apart from the blizzard of bats。
Three minutes fuel left before critical。
Jagdea saw a Razor and swung onto it； but managed to pick up two or three more behind。 She
rolled and turned； managing to get a seventy degree deflection on one of them。 But when she pulled
the trigger； nothing came。
The violent turn was putting nine and a half Gs on her machine； so much that the electric
autoloaders couldn�