Andromeda's War (Legion of the Damned Book 3) (10 page)

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.

After 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.”

Outside of occasional harassing fire, the rest of the night passed without incident. As dawn approached, McKee gave the order to “Stand to.” For thousands of years, Human beings had chosen to attack at dawn, hoping to catch the enemy sleeping. Or if not sleeping, then groggy and therefore vulnerable. And it had been no different on Algeron.

So as the sun raised its fiery head, McKee was anything but surprised as hundreds of dooth-mounted warriors poured out of the tree line to the south. They screamed incoherent war cries as they fired on the run. “Pick your targets,” McKee said calmly. “Ready, aim, fire!”

The massed fire from the Legion’s bio bods and the Naa warriors was effective by itself. But the bursts of .50 caliber fire from the T-1s were simply devastating. Dooths and warriors alike fell in a welter of blood as more Naa joined the fray. They were riding in a counterclockwise fashion, and each rotation brought them closer to the berm. Humans and Naa alike fell as a hail of bullets swept across the top of the hill. McKee chinned her mike as she fired at the nearest attacker. “Use grenades! Make ’em pay.”

And pay the attackers did, as explosions blew bloody gaps in the circling horde. As the enemy began to pull back, a com tech spoke into McKee’s ear. “This is Alpha-Five-Four . . . We have a Titan inbound. ETA twelve minutes. Over.”

“This is One,” McKee responded. “Advise the pilot that the LZ is hot. Over.”

“Roger that,” the tech replied. “Over.”

McKee half expected to hear that the Titan had turned back, but that wasn’t the case. And as the tubby VTOL appeared out of the north, it was a sight to see. The cyborg’s miniguns burped intermittently as his or her waist gunners fired at ground targets.

As McKee switched frequencies, she could hear the pilot talking to her com tech. “Get your people ready to board. Wounded first. I’ll give you three minutes, then I’m outta here. Over.”

Larkin was getting things ready. Uninjured dooths were being herded out of the LZ while the construction droids towed two dead animals away. McKee ran over to the spot where a small group of walking wounded and three stretchers were waiting. Truthsayer was ready to go. “My warriors want to take their dooths!” he shouted, as the huge fly-form arrived over the compound.

“That’s a negative,” McKee said emphatically. “There isn’t enough room, and we don’t have time to secure them even if there was.”

Truthsayer nodded as the fly-form touched down, and the artificial wind created by its rotors blew dust in every direction. “Thank you,” Truthsayer said, as he extended a hand. “You are worthy of your name.”

McKee accepted the forearm-to-forearm grip and looked him in the eye. “As are you, Chief . . . As are you.”

The stretchers were going aboard when a heavily loaded Jivani arrived to give McKee a hug before turning to trot up the ramp. Truthsayer and his warriors were the last on, and as McKee watched them board, she saw Colonel Cavenaugh. He was dressed to the nines and apparently eager to receive the chief of chiefs. That made sense, of course, since the opportunity to deliver Truthsayer to General Vale was too good to pass up.

Engines roared as the ramp went up, and the cyborg took off. The fly-form made a huge target, and McKee could hear dozens of telltale pings as dozens of bullets hit the VTOL. That was followed by the stutter of automatic fire as McKee’s legionnaires responded in kind.

Then the Titan’s miniguns went to work as the fully loaded cyborg began a ponderous turn. And that was when a streak of light jumped out of the trees and struck the ship. There was what sounded like a clap of thunder as the number three engine exploded, and McKee was left to watch in horror as the fly-form began to heel over, and went in hard. Severed rotors scythed through the air, the fuselage broke in two, and a fuel tank exploded into flame.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that the ship had been destroyed by a shoulder-launched missile. Booty captured from a Legion outpost most likely—and saved for just such an opportunity. McKee felt sick to her stomach but she couldn’t allow herself to barf, cry, or ask why. There might be survivors. If so, every second would count.

McKee chinned her mike. “This is Alpha-One . . . First squad to me. We’re going to check the wreck for survivors. Alpha-One-Three will assume command in my absence. Let’s go. Over.”

Though not a member of the first squad, Vella appeared at her side. And as McKee took her place on his back, Sergeant Payton and the remaining members of his unit appeared. Foy and Gan had been killed back at Graveyard Pass. But the noncom still had two bio bods and three cyborgs under his command. It would have been nice to take a larger force, of course. But, if the southerners launched still another attack, Larkin would require every fighter he had left.

“Okay,” McKee said over the squad freq. “We’re going to run out there, search for survivors, and haul ass. Any questions? No? Let’s do this thing.”

Vella led the rest of them over the wooden bridge and down the slope beyond. It appeared that the southerners were so stunned by their own success that they had been slow to follow up. But now, dooth-mounted warriors were starting to emerge from the tree line and clearly intended to take possession of the wreck and the booty it might contain. Vella ran to cut them off. He fired, and McKee did as well.

A dooth and its rider went down, but the contest was far from one-sided. Puffs of dirt flew up all around, and McKee could hear bullets striking the T-1’s armor as
more
riders appeared. By then it was apparent that McKee had bitten off more than one squad could chew. So she was going to abort the mission and run like hell when a series of explosions marched along the tree line. Trees, parts of trees, and what might have been body parts were tossed high into the air only to come cartwheeling down.

Rockets! Larkin had ordered the T-1s back in the compound to fire on the woods. And the barrage gave her legionnaires the opportunity they needed. They swept in to take up positions bordering the south side of the crash site. “This is Alpha-One . . . Three-One and Three-Three will dismount and help me search for survivors. Everyone else will defend the wreck. Over.”