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“Nice of you to join us；” Jagdea grinned as she shook Hayyes by the hand。
“Nice of you to wait for us；” Hayyes replied。 “I trust there are still some bats flying for us to
hunt。”
A hush suddenly fell。 A final group of aviators； all Navy men； had just entered the hangar；
making a late entrance that seemed to Jagdea calculatedly theatrical。 There were only eight of them。
Their armoured flight…suits were matt black and their suede jackets cloud…white。 They wore no
insignia or rank markings whatsoever； except silver Imperial aquilae at their collars。
“Holy crap！” Jagdea heard Del Ruth whisper。 “The Apostles！”
18
The Apostles； indeed。 The celebrated wing of aces； the very elite。 Jagdea wondered which one
was Quint； ace of aces； which one Gettering。 The tall one； was that Seekan or Harlsson？ Which one
was Suhr？
There was no time to ask Blansher。 Escorted by a dozen aides and tactical officers； an imposing
figure in the uniform of a fleet admiral came in and took the stage。 It was Ornoff himself。
All eyes turned to him。
“Aviators；” he began； his voice soft but carrying。 “At 18。00 yesterday evening； I met with Lord
Militant Humel in the War Ministry at Enothopolis。 The lord militant； as you must be aware； has
been prosecuting the war here on Enothis for the last nine months； in the name of Warmaster
Macaroth and the God…Emperor of us all。”
“The Emperor protects！” one of the Apostles said smartly； and everyone eagerly echoed the
words。
Ornoff nodded appreciatively。 “I hope he does； Captain Gettering。 In the meantime； we will have
to do。 I presented the formal orders sent to me by the Warmaster to Lord Militant Humel； and at
18。30 hours precisely； the Lord Militant formally handed command of the Enothis theatre to me。”
Spontaneous applause broke out across the hangar floor。
“For now； the land war on Enothis is done。 Now the air war begins。”
Theda MAB South； 07。46
Major Frans Scalter glanced at the co…pilot alongside him in the cramped bubble canopy of the
thundering Cyclone； got a thumbs…up； then turned to wave the ground crew off。
He adjusted his mask。 “Operations； Operations。 This is Seeker One。 Seeker Flight is ready for
departure。 Awaiting permission。”
Scalter had his hand on the wheel…brake lever。
“Seeker One； Operations。 Roll them out。 Main is open。 Fly true and may the Emperor protect
you。”
“Thank you； Operations。 Seeker Flight； on my lead。”
Scalter released the brake； and opened the throttle gently。 Bucking； the twin…engined plane
began to creep out off the hardstand towards the main runway。 Its wingmen followed。 The combined
roar of the six engines resounded across the field。
Scalter rolled to the start position； and made a final adjustment to the trim。 At his side； Artone
opened the radiators and made the fuel mix a little richer for a lusty take…off。
“Seeker Flight—” Scalter began。
Artone suddenly held up a hand。
“What？”
“Red flag！” said Artone urgently； pointing down the field。
“Throne！ What now？” snarled Scalter。 “Operations； this is Seeker One。 We’ve got a red flag。
Please confirm our clearance。”
There was a pause。 Then the vox fizzled。 “Negative clearance； negative clearance； Seeker Flight。
Abort now and clear main。 Roll off to revetments fifteen through seventeen and stand down。
Repeat—Negative clearance； abort and clear main。”
“What the hell’s going on？” Scalter demanded。
“Wounded birds；” the vox replied。 “Wounded birds inbound。”
Twenty kilometres short of Theda MAB South； 07。46
They could see the spread of the field； slightly hazy in the morning light。 Guide paths were popping
off。 The knocking from behind Darrow was now constant。
Major Heckel called in the fuel load from each Cub in turn。 All were miserably low。 Darrow
could only answer full as he had no other reading。 Hunt Sixteen had begun to dribble smoke in the
19
last ten minutes； and its pilot reported rapidly dropping hydraulic pressure。 Hunt Sixteen had taken
at least two hits to the belly during the brawl over the mountains。
“Hunt Flight； this is Hunt Leader。 Sixteen and Four have landing priority。 Let them go in first
and we’ll follow as soon as they’re down。 Confirm。”
Darrow stretched his shoulders against the harness。 Heckel wanted Sixteen down before it died；
and he wanted Darrow down as quickly because he was most likely flying on empty。
“After you； Hunt Sixteen；” Darrow voxed； allowing the Wolfcub to come around ahead of him。
The Cub’s streamer of smoke pulsed clear then white； clear then white； like a ticker tape。
The knocking grew yet more insistent。 Darrow began his approach。
Theda MAB South； 07。47
“Your fighter wings；” Ornoff told them； “are five of the first to arrive on station here along the
southern coast。 In the next seventy…two hours； a total of fifty…eight wings of the Imperial Navy…
and its affiliates…” he added； with a nod to the Phantine； “will be deployed at airfields along the
entire littoral。 Forty…two fighter wings； sixteen bomber flights。 To say that you will be supporting
the local Commonisstatement。 You will form the front line in the air。
The stalwart Commonwealth forces who have； let me remind you； been fighting this theatre for
months now； will take a supportive role。 God…Emperor willing； this may allow them precious time to
repair； refit； recrew and rest。”
He turned to the chart behind him。 “I don’t need to tell you to familiarise yourself with the
topography； channel use； and the location of friendly fields。 Encryption codes will be changed on a
daily basis。 The Archenemy is listening。”
Ornoff paused and slid his open hand down the chart pensively。 “The situation here is grave。
Lord Militant Humel’s land forces； ably supported by the Commonwealth armies； almost succeeded
in driving the Archenemy off this world。 However； in the last two months； fortunes have reversed
disastrously。 The Archenemy； whose remaining surface stronghold is around the Southern Trinity
Hives—here—has resupplied in great force as part of the counter…offensive launched last year
through the Khan Group as a whole。 The Lord Militant’s land forces are now in harried retreat
northwards through the Interior Desert… this region； here。 Some have already reached the Makanite
Range； and are struggling through the passes there。 Our task—your task—is to help as many of them
reach the safety of the Zophonian Coast as possible。 We are to supply comprehensive air cover to
the retreating columns of armour and infantry。 That means denying the enemy airspace； and
prosecuting their land forces with aerial strikes。 Enothis will only be saved if sufficient portions of
allied land forces can be brought back to the coast intact。 There； with resupply； they can make a
stand； a counter…attack to meet the Archenemy invasion。”
Ornoff looked back at them all。 “Expect to be flying sorties round the clock。 A thorough
strategic plan will be executed as soon as all the wings are on station； at which point your wings
may be reassigned to other fields。 In the meantime； you will be flying ad hoc missions at the
discretion of Operations to supply cover until we are at full strength。”
Ornoff raised a hand and beckoned one of the staffers who had entered the hangar with him onto
the stage； an older man in the flight kit of a Commonwealth pilot officer。 “I’ve invited Commander
Parrwood here to brief you on climate and terrain peculiarities。 Before he does； any questions？”
Godel； the Sundogs’ flight commander； raised a gloved hand。 “What are we to expect here；
admiral？”
“Superior air power；” Ornoff replied crisply。 “Hell Razor and Locust…class fighters； Tormentor
and Hell Talon…class fighter…bombers。 The Archenemy is flying a large number of locally…made
machines。 There are also reports of heavy bombers； of a type yet undetermined。 Many of their
planes exhibit extended range； which may indicate mass carriers in the desert。”
“When do we get in their reach？” one of the Apostles asked。
20
“Unless you deny them； Major Suhr； at their present rate of progress； the Archenemy wings will
have range enough to begin attacking these coastal bases within the month。 That is an eventuality I
don’t want to see。”
“And you won’t； admiral；” said Suhr； “because we will deny them。” There was a general
murmur of approval。
“Now； if Commander Parrwood would be so kind we—”
Ornoff’s words were cut off as a hooter began to drone outside。 In a moment； it was chorused by
others。 A deep； ominous moaning wailed out across the field。
The aviators exchanged glances。 Ornoff looked at his aides and hurried off the stage； heading for
the hangar doors。 Everyone followed。
Outside； in the bright sunlight； they clustered on the rockcrete apron； scanning the glassy sky。
Path lights had been lit along the main runway track； and recovery vehicles were growling out of
sheds along the north perimeter。
“Someone’s in trouble；” Blansher muttered。
“There！” one of the Navy pilots called； pointing。
Low in the southern sky； tiny dots。 Jagdea heard the distant； burping putter of pulsejets。
“That’s low；” said Asche。 Several of the dots were hanging back； but two were moving in。 They
could see sunlight flare off canopies。 The lead plane； a little dark…green monojet； was dragging a
string of vapour behind it。
“Not good；” said Jagdea； staring。
Beside her； Marquall said； “What？”
“If he’s going to land； let’s hope he gets his cart down。”
Over Theda MAB South； 07。51
The smoke coming out of Hunt Sixteen was getting thicker； and had started to plume out fat and
heavy as their airspeed dropped。 Darrow had to adjust height to stop himself flying in blind through
the vapour。 Hunt Sixteen was pitching low； and it forced Darrow to sit up high； higher than he
would have preferred for an approach。
There was a slight crosswind。 He felt his tail skidding； and he trimmed to compensate。
According to the airspeed indicator； he was getting dangerously near critical stall。
“Come on； Hunt Sixteen！” he cursed。 “Come on； Phryse！ Get that bird down！”
“Hold your water…” the vox chattered。 “I think… think my bloody cart’s hung。”
“Clear it； Phryse！” Darrow heard Hunt Leader urge over the channel。
“Trying… damn thing’s stuck… lever’s jammed。 Bent。 I think…”
A bleeper sounded in Darrow’s cockpit。 Fuel out… even though the damn gauge still read full。
“I’ve got to sit now！” he called。
“Okay； okay！ S’all right； Enric。 I’ve got it now。 Lever’s pulled。 Cart down。”
Theda MAB South； 07。51
Even as the Cyclone’s engines whistled down to a dying chop； Scalter wrenched open the window
slider of the canopy and stuck his head out； searching the sky。
“Operations！” he yelled； but then realised that pushing his head out of the window had pulled his
mic…cord to full extent and yanked the plug out of the vox panel。
“Damn it！” he yelled； struggling back inside and banging his head。 “Damn it！” He fumbled for
the end of the cord。
“Got it！” cried Artone； ramming the plug back into its socket。
“Operations！ Get a flag up！ Signal！ That Cub’s coming in with its undercart up！”
“Clear the channel； Seeker。”
21
Scalter clunked off his harness； threw open the side hatch and fell out onto the ground。 Artone
was fast on his heels。 The crews of the Cyclones in the revetment bunkers next to them had
dismounted too。
Scalter ran up the embankment towards the main strip； waving his arms。 Red flares had gone up
over the field。 Bleeding smoke； one wing hanging heavy； the Wolfcub was really low。 The noise of
its pulsejet was a drawn…out； plosive blurt。
Its undercart was locked up in its belly。
“Up！ Up！” Scalter yelled。 He fell on his face as Artone tackled him and brought him down short
of the rockcrete track。
The Wolfcub came in； over and past them both。 Just shy of stall speed； it began to drop its tail；
about to settle onto gear that wasn’t there。
The underside of the tail hit first。 There was an abrasive shriek。 Metal shards and grit flew up in
a hot grind of friction。 Immediately； the tail came back up； bouncing； pitching the Wolfcub down
straight on its nose。 The Interceptor came apart； shredding aluminoid off its frame。 The port wing
crumpled and flew off。 The pulse…jet； coughing flames； sheared off its mounts