Andromeda's War (Legion of the Damned Book 3) (29 page)

A cheer went up throughout the
Mars
as the heavy cruiser turned onto a course that would take her toward the moon. But Nigata wasn’t cheering. He was searching the holo tank for a tiny green arrow and the name
Leda
. It was no longer there. A sacrifice had been made. And for
what
? A tyrant, a mass murderer, and a possible psychopath. Nigata felt sick to his stomach.

—

PLANET SAVAS

After catching up with McKee, the team made camp. And to the north of them, only five miles short of the Hudathan base, Huzz and his warriors did the same thing.

As McKee made the rounds, she could feel the tension in the air. None of the normal high jinks could be seen. And what talk there was had a subdued quality. As they cleaned their weapons, all of her fellow legionnaires were wondering the same thing. Would they survive? Or would they be buried on Savas? McKee knew how they felt.

That was why she went looking for Avery after finishing her dinner. Not to talk . . . Since opportunities to do that were few and far between. But to
see
him. To hear the sound of his voice. To take comfort from the knowledge that he existed and there was something to hope for, to survive for.

When McKee found Avery, he was sitting in a circle made up of legionnaires from different platoons. Hats mostly, but some of her people, too, all talking in low tones. Their eyes made contact, and a spark jumped the gap.

Sergeant Jolo offered McKee a mug of instant caf, and she accepted, so she would have an excuse to sit on an ammo crate and be near Avery. The legionnaires were telling stories, many of which were exaggerated, to keep their minds off what was to come. So hardly a word passed between McKee and Avery during the next fifteen minutes. But such was the bond between them, nothing had to be said. Both knew what they had—and what they stood to lose.

As the bullshit session began to wind down, Avery dumped a few drops of caf onto the bone-dry ground and stood. His eyes found hers, and he smiled. “Watch your six, McKee. Lieutenants are in short supply out here.”

McKee nodded. “You, too, sir. There’s no such thing as too many majors.” That got a laugh—and McKee turned away.
Please God, don’t let him die,
she prayed. But there had been other prayers, for other people, and most were dead.

Even though she hadn’t been assigned to a watch, McKee didn’t sleep well. Part of that was due to the noise from a navy shuttle as it made a delivery of personnel and supplies. But most of it was nerves.

That’s why McKee was up a full hour before she had to be and busy checking on her platoon. Her helmet light projected a blob of white light on the ground in front of her as she crossed the encampment. There were rumors that the navy was about to clobber the Hudathan moon base, but that hadn’t happened yet. That meant the marines were still taking STS fire and wouldn’t be able to participate in the assault.

So without any armor, and without being able to attack the base with aircraft, the T-1s would constitute the heaviest weaponry the so-called joint force could bring to bear. That’s why Major Remy had decided to join her platoon.

McKee reported to the CO at 0600. After ducking under some netting, she removed her helmet. Remy and Avery were standing over a video table looking at some images. Both men turned as she entered. Remy smiled. “Ah, the cavalry has arrived. I won’t have to walk.”

“No, sir. Private Kane is standing by.”

“Excellent. Have you seen these? If not, you might want to take a look.”

The sun wasn’t visible yet. But, thanks to a hanging lantern and the illumination provided by the table itself, McKee could see the photos. Some had clearly been taken by navy fighters, while others were surface shots, courtesy of the company’s hardworking drones. The outpost was located adjacent to the sand-drifted ribs of what had clearly been a large spaceship. A vessel too large to land and take off again.

The implication was obvious. Parts of the vessel had been used to create a fort similar to those once popular on Earth. The flat-topped mound was pierced with embrasures from which cannons could be fired. “What kind of artillery do they have?” McKee inquired.

“Naval energy cannons,” Avery said ominously. “Powered by fusion reactors.”

McKee winced. The cannons would be able to destroy anything short of shield-equipped tanks. That meant her T-1s wouldn’t stand a chance if they took a direct hit. “So what’s the plan?”

Remy pointed to a photo. “Because the fort is round, the weapons inside have a 360-degree field of fire. And that makes sense if you plan to defend it against mounted warriors. But the shape means that only two out of the six cannons can be brought to bear on any single quadrant.”

“So,” Avery said, as he picked up the narrative, “that’s how we’ll go at it. We’ll attack one side of the fortification and ignore the rest.”

“No offense,” McKee said, “but two cannons are more than enough. They’ll vaporize anything we send at them.”

“True,” Remy admitted. “But after they fire for one minute, they need a thirty-second cool down. So all we have to do is throw five hundred Paguumi warriors in after them, wait for the cannons to cool off, and off you go.”

McKee couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Remy intended to use five hundred sentient beings as cannon fodder. She looked at Avery and saw the caution in his eyes. Remy was in command, their goal was one every officer should support, and the Paguumis could hardly be described as allies. They were in it for loot.

Still, the plan was so cold-blooded that McKee felt she had to say something. “That sounds like a good plan, sir. But is there some other way to force that cooling cycle?”

Remy frowned. “What would you prefer, Lieutenant? Would you like me to march the team into those guns? Compassion has its place, McKee, but this is war. Our job is rescue the empress—not mollycoddle a bunch of savages. Besides, you would do well to remember all of the people who were alive after the
Victorious
crashed. The Paguumis slaughtered most of them.”

McKee opened her mouth to respond, but Avery cut her off. “That will be all, McKee . . . You have your orders. Carry them out. Dismissed.”

McKee knew Avery was trying to protect her from herself—but felt a surge of resentment anyway. She came to attention. “Sir, yes, sir.” Then, after a smart about-face, she marched outside.

—

SAVAS BASE 001

Paguumi scouts had been watching the base for days and occasionally taking potshots from the safety of a distant dune. Nola-Ba heard a clang, followed by a report. He decided to ignore it as he brought the glasses up to his eyes. The desert was empty for the most part, but that would soon change. In spite of the numerical advantage his ships had, they had been outmaneuvered and outfought. The loss of the cruiser
Ember
had been an especially devastating blow. A microjump! The Human admiral had taken a terrible chance and won.

Now, having received word that a nuclear torpedo had been used to obliterate the moon base, Nola-Ba knew that more Human troops would soon move against him. Fortunately, a battalion of Hudathan tanks were on the surface and ready to engage the animals.

Even so, a small but well-armed force of Humans was going to attack during the next few hours—and they would have thousands of Paguumi allies to help them. Not to mention air superiority. So what should he do? Remain where he was and try to fight them off, or take the empress and run?

In the end, the decision was no decision at all. It was imperative to put the empress aboard a ship and send her to Hudatha. The problem would be getting a shuttle down through a sky filled with Human fighters and back into space again. Still, what had to be done,
would
be done. Nola-Ba lowered the glasses, turned his back on the desert, and entered the fort.

—

By the time Remy, McKee, and her platoon arrived on the scene, the Hudathan base was surrounded by thousands of Paguumis. Most of the warriors raced each other, gathered in small groups, or sat in the shadows cast by their zurnas. The sun was up by then, and it was getting hot.

As Bartov came to a halt, McKee saw that most of the locals were well within range of the fort’s guns but remained safe so long as they didn’t charge the fortification. A scattering of bodies, all well short of the defensive berm, marked the path of a failed attack. Beyond the earthen barrier, steep slopes rose past a couple of gun ports to a flat area. For shuttles to land on? Yes, she thought so.

McKee’s thoughts were interrupted as Huzz and his bodyguards came galloping out, banners flying and weapons gleaming in the sun. The Paguumi chief offered Remy something resembling a salute as he and his party skidded to a showy halt. “You grow more handsome with each rising sun,” Huzz said grandly.

Remy, who had grown accustomed to over-the-top greetings, took the compliment in stride. “Thank you, Chief. And you look so fierce that the Hudathans will quake with fear.”

Huzz nodded as if the statement was fact rather than outrageous flattery. “They are cowards. Why else would they hide under the dirt? You must drive the change skins out into the open, so we can slaughter them.”

“That’s one possibility,” Remy agreed mildly. “But here’s a plan that might work better. As you can see, the big guns can only fire at a single line of attack. And after they fire, they must rest before they fire again. So I suggest that you send a group to attack—and have another ready to follow up.”

Huzz was no fool. He looked from Remy to McKee and back again. “All of the warriors in the first group will die.”

McKee wasn’t planning to speak—but did so anyway. “No,” she said, “they won’t. We will fire smoke bombs from a distance. Once they fall, the smoke will hide your warriors. Yes, the Hudathans will fire, but they won’t be able to aim. So most of us will make it through.” Remy looked at her, opened his mouth as if to speak, and closed it again.

Huzz produced the Paguumi equivalent of a frown. “
Us?
You will come?”

“Yes,” McKee answered. “I will fight beside you.”

Remy cleared his throat. “Well, then,” he said. “The matter is settled.”

—

SAVAS BASE 001

Empress Ophelia Ordanus was wearing clothes that smelled like the man who had died in them. And, judging from the odor, he’d been very dirty at the time. But baggy though the shirt and pants were, they were better than the blanket she’d been wrapped in earlier. Her thoughts were interrupted by a muffled thump. She felt something akin to a minor earthquake and saw dust trickle down from above. A bomb! The first explosion was followed by a second and a third.

Her mind raced. The navy couldn’t drop bombs on the fortress itself without fear of killing her. But it could prepare the area around the stronghold for an infantry assault. Would the Hudathans kill her if they were about to lose? Possibly. But death would be better than a one-way trip to Hudatha.

Ophelia heard a rattling noise as the door to her cell swung open, and Admiral Nola-Ba appeared. He was dressed in full combat gear, including a sword that was strapped to his back. His voice was reminiscent of a rock crusher in low gear. “Come here.”

There was no point in trying to resist. Ophelia’s shoes were way too large but better than nothing. They made slapping sounds as she crossed the cell. “We’re going up to level two,” Nola-Ba informed her. “We will wait for the shuttle there.”

“So you’re going to take me off-planet.” The words were in Hudathan.

“Your efforts to learn our language are going well,” Nola-Ba said as he ushered her into the hall.

Ophelia shrugged. “I have nothing else to do.”

“Still, it’s a significant achievement,” Nola-Ba observed. “Yes. A shuttle and six escorts are on their way down to the surface. Then, once we’re on one of my ships, we will depart for Hudatha.”

“I hope my forces shoot the shuttle down,” Ophelia said flatly.

“They won’t,” Nola-Ba assured her. “We sent them a message . . . They know that you’ll be on the shuttle.”

Ophelia felt her spirits plummet. Nola-Ba was correct. If her forces believed she was on the shuttle, they would have no choice but to spare it. A bomb exploded outside, the fortress shook, and more dust fell as they followed the main corridor to the fort’s core, where the elevators were located. The future of the Human race was at stake—but all the empress could do was hope.

—

A bomb tumbled to earth, bounced, and hit the berm, where it exploded. A column of mixed dirt and sand soared up into the air and came raining down. As McKee peered through her binoculars, she was pleased to see another gap in the defensive barrier. The entry points would be critical once the ground assault began.

“This is Condor-One calling Charlie-Six,” a male voice said in her ear. “We’re chasing a shuttle and six escorts, all of which are headed your way. Put some fire on the shuttle if you can. There’s a strong possibility that the ridgeheads plan to put Gemstone aboard it. Over.”

“Here they come,” Bartov said over the platoon freq. “They’re at four o’clock and coming fast.”

“Charlie-One to all rocket-equipped T-1s,” McKee said. “You heard Condor-One. Shoot that shuttle down.”

As before, the T-1s were tied together via a shared targeting system. They fired their rockets in salvos of six. The results fell short of what McKee had been hoping for. The first fighter took a dozen hits and blew up. But the shuttle remained untouched, as did the other escorts all of which fired decoy flares. The second flight of missiles “spotted” the flares and went after them. The result was some harmless puffs of smoke and a lost opportunity as bio bods hurried to reload the empty “cans.” McKee knew the shuttle would have time to land before the job was complete.

“Use your fifties!” McKee shouted, but the words were lost in a roar of incoming cannon fire as the Hudathan fighters broke formation and began a series of highly effective gun runs. Legionnaires and Paguumi warriors dived for cover as explosive rounds plowed furrows in the desert. The enemy ships were armed with rockets as well. One of them struck a zurna and blew up. That triggered a wild stampede as hundreds of zurnas ran in every direction.