Read Online Double Eagle by Dan Abnett - Free Book Online

sick jibe. The man’s face had been a mess of pink scar tissue.
    The entry hall was empty. Nobody hurried past along the polished wood-tile floor. He walked past the gilt-lettered rolls of honour on the panelled walls, one for each Commonwealth squadron, including his own, the 34th General Intercept, and under the brooding hololith of the late Air Commander Tenthis Belks. It was a time-honoured custom for all pilots to salute the old man’s portrait as they went past. Darrow didn’t feel like such frippery today.
    There was no one in the day office, or behind the desk at company and area. Darrow went down to the dispersal room, but there was nobody there either. The air smelled of over-brewed caffeine and stale smoke. A circular regicide board, its game unfinished, sat on one of the small tables, Darrow went back out into the hall, and walked down to the station chapel. On the wall beside the double doors hung a blackboard where the names of the dead and missing were written up prior to the morning service. He stood for a moment and stared at the list written there now. The dead cadets of Hunt Flight. Such a damnably long list. But for five names, it was a roll call for the entire wing.
    He opened the doors and looked into the chapel. It was quiet and very dark, save for the daylight falling in multi-coloured rays through the lancet windows at the far end. There was an odour of wood-wax and floor polish, and also fading flowers. Someone was sitting down at the front, at the end of the first pew. Darrow couldn’t make out who it was, and felt reluctant to disturb them.
    Retreating back into the hall, Darrow noticed for the first time the printed posts tacked up on the wallboards outside the day office.
    He started to read them.
    Major Heckel came out of the chapel and walked over to him. “Darrow?”
    “What… what is this?” Darrow murmured.
    Heckel could hear the tinge of anger in the pilot cadet’s voice. “You just got back then?” he asked. “You’re checked out? You’re all right?”
    “What does this mean?” Darrow snapped, pointing at the posts.
    Heckel’s face was pinched and pale, and he seemed to shrink back timidly from Darrow’s bitterness. “It’s just the way things have worked out, Darrow.”
    “Did Eads sign off on this?”
    “It was his decision, he—”
    “Is he here?”
    “Yes. Yes, he is.”
    “I want to see him.”
    Heckel bit his lower lip and then nodded. “Come on.”
    The major led the way up the front stairs to the main operations chambers. Their boots rang on the hard wood. Heckel seemed to have a need for small talk.
    “Everyone’s been given day leave,” he said, almost cheerfully. “As of this morning. Everyone… Well, news like that, yesterday. Sort of knocked everybody back. And as we were about to go into turnaround and move out to make way for the Imperials, well, it seemed like the best thing, so Commander Eads issued passes and…”
    Darrow wasn’t really listening. The door to the main operations room was open, and he saw unfamiliar personnel in Imperial Navy uniforms stare out at him as he went by.
    They reached the commander’s outer office and Heckel ushered Darrow in. Darrow noticed how badly the major’s gesturing hand was shaking. Really shaking.
    The outer office was empty. The desks there had been cleared, and transit cartons labelled with the aquila badge were stacked up in the middle of the well-worn floor. Heckel knocked gently at the inner door. He was answered by a grunt.
    They went in. It was pitch-black inside.
    “Sir…” Heckel began.
    “What? Oh, my apologies.” There was a click, and the steel blast shutters over the windows retracted to let the daylight in.
    “I forget, sometimes,” Eads said.
    The entering daylight revealed Air Commander Gelwyn Eads behind his brass desk in the bay under the main window. The walls of the office were covered with hololiths—formal squadron group shots, individual pilot portraits, pictures of