Andromeda's War (Legion of the Damned Book 3)

by William C. Dietz

McKee broke the ensuing silence. “So? Would you be willing to go north? To meet with General Vale?”

  Truthsayer’s eyes came back to meet hers. “Your troops are camped on Fishtrap Island. Can you reach them by radio?”

  McKee swallowed. She had assumed that the locals would notice the company’s presence—but it was a shock to find out that everyone knew where they were. “Yes, I can.”

  “Good. I suggest that you order them to move. There’s an old mill just north of town. You can meet them there. I will give you my answer by tomorrow morning.”

  All sorts of thoughts chased each other through McKee’s mind. Was Truthsayer trying to trick her? Trying to send the company to a place where he could attack it?

  Truthsayer smiled knowingly. “No, Deathgiver . . . It isn’t a trick. Battles have consequences. Especially for those who lose. I still have a strong following. But other chiefs want what power I have left or want to punish me for our defeat. A coalition has been formed, and they know I’m here. In a day, two at most, they will arrive here. That’s why most of the city’s residents left. So I have no choice but to accompany you or to begin a journey to nowhere. Either way, it would be prudent for you to head north quickly. Do I make myself clear?”

  The last was spoken not in the manner of the scholar that Truthsayer appeared to be but with the hard-edged assurance of a general. And what he said squared with what McKee had heard during the trip south. There were those who hated Truthsayer. Still, his explanation could constitute a distortion if not lie. All she could do was make a decision and hope for the best. “We’ll be there,” she said. “At the mill.”

  Truthsayer looked into her eyes. “Leadership is difficult.”

  “Yes, it is. But why wait? You could make the decision now.”

  “The decision isn’t up to me alone,” Truthsayer answered simply. “I must consult with others.”

  That made sense. McKee stood. “It was an honor to meet you.”

  “The honor was mine,” Truthsayer said. “Go to the mill. Then, one way or another, it will be time to ride.”

  McKee could feel the hostility around her as she left the building—and heard the warriors laugh as she struggled to climb up into the saddle. Then, with Storytell leading the way, McKee and her companions followed the winding streets back to the north gate.

  During the trip, McKee contacted Larkin and ordered him to take a look at the latest satellite imagery. She figured that if Truthsayer was preparing an attack, there would be some sign of it on the aerial photos.

  It took about thirty minutes to reach the old mill. It was sited next to a stream. While part of the old waterwheel was still in place, the interior of the building had been ravaged by fire. But the walls were thick enough to make the building defensible, and McKee hoped that was a sign of good faith on Truthsayer’s part.

  It was starting to get dark by that time, and the group was too small to defend itself against even a dozen attackers, so McKee ordered the Naa to take their dooths inside. All the party could do was remain alert and wait for the company to show up. Were they under observation? McKee would have been willing to bet that they were.

  A good hour passed before Larkin made radio contact. The satellite imagery was clean, and the company was on the way. A drone arrived ten minutes later, speared McKee with a beam of light, and proceeded to explore the ruins.

  McKee felt a profound sense of relief as Larkin and lead elements of the company arrived soon thereafter. Now, come what may, she was with her command. Once the defensive perimeter was in place Larkin came looking for her. “There’s a possibility that Truthsayer will join us in the next hour or so,” McKee told him. “If he does, good. If not, we’ll head north. So feed everybody and tell them to be ready.”

  There had been a time when Larkin would have said something snarky as a way to push back against authority, any authority, even hers. But responsibilities that went with his new rank had begun to change him. “We did as much maintenance as we could. Most of the T-1s are in pretty good shape. Oso’s right arm actuator is acting up though . . . I’d appreciate it if you could take a look.”

  Cat Carletto had a degree in cybernetics, which meant Andromeda McKee could make repairs that most techs couldn’t. That was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing when it kept a cyborg running—and a curse when it cost her some much-needed sleep. McKee was about to agree when she heard movement behind her. She turned to find Andy standing there. “Hold that position,” the robot said. “I’ll get a two shot.”

  McKee sighed. Andy would have to be dealt with. The question was how? The combot accompanied her as McKee and Jivani made their rounds.

  Once the circuit was complete, McKee inspected Oso’s actuator and realized that it would have to be replaced. And, given the fact that Truthsayer could arrive at any moment, there wasn’t enough time in which to make the repair. So she waited. But thirty minutes passed without any sign that the Naa leader planned to come. Maybe she should have given him a radio. But that would enable the Naa to monitor the company’s communications.

  McKee was still thinking about that when a distant boom was heard, and a column of black smoke rose over the City of Pillars. Truthsayer’s enemies were shelling the town. Preparing to invade it. That’s the way it appeared anyway, and it wouldn’t be long before they realized that the place was undefended. So what did that mean to her? Since Truthsayer’s enemies were her enemies, they would pursue the company and attack it. Should she run? Hell yes, she should run.

  But what about the mission? What if Truthsayer had been delayed for some reason? Worse yet, what if his enemies captured him? All because she left too quickly? Thirty minutes. That was the answer. She would wait for another half an hour, and if Truthsayer hadn’t arrived by then, she would leave.

  So as time passed, McKee switched back and forth between the pictures the drones sent back hoping to see the riders she was waiting for. Andy was staring at her, so she ordered it to get some pictures of a dooth’s rear end, and laughed as the robot departed. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the half hour was up. And Truthsayer was nowhere to be seen.

  The shelling had stopped, and a steady stream of refugees was pouring out of the city via the north gate. They were herding animals, pushing handcarts, and carrying packs. These were the people who had stayed behind hoping that the attack would never take place. Now, as a pall of gray smoke drifted over the city, it appeared that at least part of it was on fire. So the time had come to leave. McKee knew that but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Instead, she sent Storytell out to speak with the refugees in hopes that they might know where Truthsayer was. But none of them did. By the time he returned, another fifteen minutes had elapsed, and darkness was starting to fall. So McKee summoned Larkin and gave the necessary orders. “Take the company about twenty miles north. Look for a place that we can defend and throw a high berm around it.”

  “And what will you be doing?” he inquired pointedly. There was no “ma’am” in the sentence and never would be whenever they were alone.

  “I’m going to wait a bit longer. I’ll keep the Naa warriors. You take Jivani.”

  Larkin frowned. “This is bullshit . . . You know that.”

  McKee grinned. “We’re legionnaires, remember? Legio bullshit nostra.”

  Larkin laughed. Then he looked serious again. “Don’t get killed, McKee . . . Our people are counting on you, and I’m not good enough to get them back on my own.”

  It was the most honest thing Larkin had ever said to her, and McKee knew it was probably true. Larkin was willing to follow orders most of the time, and to force others to do so as well, but he wasn’t very imaginative. “That isn’t true,” she lied. “But don’t worry . . . It’s hard to get rid of me.”

  So Larkin took the RAVs, robots, and legionnaires north while McKee, Vella, and the Naa remained behind. And that’s where
they were, waiting near the mill, when Andy appeared out of the gloom. Apparently, the robot realized that out of sight was out of mind and was determined to stay close. And that, she knew, was what any synth would do. The damned thing was a threat and one she would have to neutralize.

  McKee’s thoughts were interrupted by a flurry of gunshots. Refugees scattered as a group of riders appeared. They were whipping their dooths, and the reason was obvious. More Naa could be seen in the distance, firing as they came.

  The light was nearly gone, but McKee could see Stinkkiller in the lead with a diminutive figure on a dooth slightly behind him. Truthsayer! She gave orders over the radio as she waved her Naa back into the shadows. “Let the first group pass—kill the rest.”

  McKee spoke to Vella over the intercom as Truthsayer and his party thundered past. “Fire a grenade followed by the fifty.”

  “Roger that,” Vella replied.

  McKee switched to night vision and chinned the radio to the company freq. “Get ready,” she said. “Don’t fire until Vella does.”

  The oncoming warriors were so intent on catching up with the chief of chiefs that they weren’t aware of the ambush until Vella’s grenade landed immediately in front of them. There was a brilliant flash of light followed by a boom—and the shrill screams that dooths made as they went down.

  The next rank of warriors was largely untouched but moving so fast they couldn’t stop. The mounts tripped over bodies and fell, throwing their riders onto the ground. That was when McKee opened fire, and her Naa companions did likewise. They were from the north and quite happy to slaughter southerners. The whole thing was over seconds later. “Cease fire!” McKee ordered. “Save your ammunition . . . We’re going to need it.”

  Then, with Vella leading the way, the party streamed north. Stinkkiller, Truthsayer, and their warriors were waiting half a mile up the road. Once greetings had been exchanged, Truthsayer spoke. “You waited.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you for what you did . . . Although it pains me to see more southerners die for nothing.”

  “Maybe the negotiations will go well.”

  “Maybe,” Truthsayer said doubtfully. “I was trying to convince two chiefs of that when their warriors attacked the city. The talks were a trick . . . A way to keep me busy while they attempted to surround me.”

  “But it didn’t work.”

  “No, we fought our way clear.”

  “I sent most of the company north,” McKee said. “We need to catch up.”

  “They will follow,” Truthsayer warned. “And there will be hundreds of them.”

  “Understood,” McKee said. “Let’s ride.”

  They rode through the rest of that night and into the early morning, pausing only to water the dooths and check their back trail. Meanwhile, McKee had been on the radio to Larkin. “Get the duty officer at Fort Camerone on the horn,” she instructed. “Tell him or her that we need a dustoff. Over.”

  “How soon? Over.”

  “Let’s make it for 1500 hours standard. We’ll send Truthsayer and his people out first. So tell them to have Colonel Cavenaugh or the equivalent thereof on the first fly-form. Then we’ll need a Titan or two Vulcans to bring the rest of the company out. Over.”

  “Roger that,” Larkin replied. “Over.”

  As McKee and her companions neared the end of their journey, the rising sun revealed a layer of ground fog that lay like a gauzy shroud over the land and shivered when a breeze slid in to touch it. The hill the company had camped on seemed to float above the mist. Raw earth marked the berm Larkin had thrown up. And there, at the very top of the mound, broken columns marked the spot where a temple once stood.

  The ground fog parted in front of them as McKee led the party up the slope and over a timber bridge. She saw that T-1s were posted around the perimeter, fighting positions had been dug behind blocks of granite, and the excavation work was still under way. Larkin had done an excellent job, and McKee made a mental note to tell him that. He was mounted on a T-1, and as the noncom came forward, his expression was grim. “Uh-oh,” McKee said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Fort Camerone is socked in. It’ll be at least four hours before they can launch aircraft. Maybe more.”

  McKee looked up at broken clouds and patches of blue sky. It appeared that the problem was up north. “Damn . . . At least some of the bad guys will be here by then.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, we’ll make the best of it. You chose an excellent site—and I like the way the defenses are laid out. Let’s place the RAVs so we can take full advantage of their firepower—and equip four T-1s with shoulder launchers.”

  Larkin nodded and eyed the group behind her. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said simply. “And I hope the bastard is worth it.” Then he was gone.

  McKee jumped to the ground and went over to explain the situation to Truthsayer. He listened and shrugged. “We will fight. The gods will decide.”

  McKee wasn’t about to place her fate in the hands of the capricious gods. So she sent Stinkkiller and his warriors south to act as pickets. She considered sending more but figured that mixing northerners with southerners was a recipe for disaster. Then it was time to make the rounds and check to make sure her squad leaders were up to speed.

  McKee had just completed a full circuit when Jivani appeared with two MREs. They sat on a block of granite, and McKee listened as the xenoanthropologist talked about an ancient religion she’d heard of. It was, she felt certain, connected with the ruins. And that’s why she had spent the last few hours taking hundreds of pictures. Images that could be compared to those of sites elsewhere on the planet. “What if all of them were similar?” Jivani wanted to know. “What if the ruins in the north matched those in the south? That would imply an ancient civilization that spanned both hemispheres!”

  Jivani’s enthusiasm was contagious, and for a moment, McKee found herself caught up in a grand vision of what might have been. Then she remembered where she was and why. The poop was about to hit the fan . . . And the dustoff would give her an opportunity to ship the civilian out.

  The first sign of trouble came when a flurry of gunshots were heard from the south, and Stinkkiller came galloping back from the woods with his warriors streaming along behind. Hooves clattered over wood as the dooths crossed the bridge and entered the compound. Then, with nowhere to go, the animals began to mill around.

  “They’re coming,” Stinkkiller proclaimed as he dropped to the ground. “All but two of them. They’re dead.”

  It was said with the same élan a general might use to announce a major victory. McKee managed to repress a smile. “Excellent. How many are there?”

  “At least fifty, with more arriving every minute.”

  “Well done. Please put someone in charge of your mounts and take the rest of your warriors to the north side of the perimeter.”

  “Why north?” Stinkkiller demanded haughtily. “The enemy is gathering to the south.”

  “Because I expect some of the enemy to circle around,” McKee explained patiently. “And we’ll need some of our finest warriors there to meet them.”

  Stinkkiller was oblivious to the blatant flattery. “Yes,” he said. “That makes sense.”

  “Good. And please do everything in your power to keep Truthsayer alive.”

  Stinkkiller frowned. “He will insist on fighting.”

  “I assumed as much. Please do what you can.”

  The Naa nodded soberly. “I will.”

  Night had fallen once more, and any sign of light was bound to draw sniper fire. The cyborgs had their sensors to rely on. But if the Legion’s bio bods weren’t inside one of the two carefully shielded cooking stations, or in the command bunker, they had to wear their helmets in order to navigate the compound. Which was why everything McKee saw had a ghostly green glow.

  Af
ter completing her rounds, McKee followed a dirt ramp down into the command bunker. That’s where the first-aid station, the com center, and the ammo box labeled “CO” were located. McKee didn’t have time to sit on the box but wished she did.

  The com tech spotted McKee and shook her head. “Nothing new, ma’am. Fort Camerone is still socked in.”

  McKee thanked her and paused to chat with the senior medic before heading back up. She arrived on the surface just in time to see a fireball rise from the south, climb like a miniature sun, and start to fall. “Catapults!” someone shouted, and McKee swore. Such weapons might be primitive, but the Naa had used them to good effect in the past. There was a splash of fire as the artificial comet landed twenty feet short of the defensive ditch.

  That stimulated shouts of derision from legionnaires and Naa alike. But McKee knew the enemy would make the necessary corrections, and the chances were good that the next fireball would land inside the perimeter. “This is Alpha-One to Alpha-Five . . . Target that launcher and take it out. Over.”

  Larkin had placed Sergeant Rico Sager in charge of the T-1s that were armed with rockets. He said, “This is Five . . . Roger that. Over.”

  A minute passed. Then two fireballs rose in concert. Each T-1 carried an onboard computer. And they could commutate with each other. That meant they could link up, share observed data, and calculate where the catapults were located. Once a consensus was reached, one cyborg fired two rockets. Two, because there was no reason to expend more ordnance than was absolutely necessary.

  The fire-and-forget weapons shot out of the cyborg’s shoulder “cans” and disappeared into the night. Twin booms were heard even as the incoming fireballs landed. One splashed the ditch, and one came down inside the compound, where it scored a direct hit on a Naa warrior. He screamed and ran in circles until his best friend shot him in the head. McKee winced but understood. The liquid fire couldn’t be extinguished with water and had already burned its victim beyond the point where he would be able to recover. So she turned her attention back to the south. McKee waited, and after three minutes had passed, she chinned her mike. “Alpha-One to Alpha-Five and team. Well done. Over.”