Andromeda's Fall (Legion of the Damned)

by Dietz, William C.

  Ola knew that tone of voice and quickly slid to the ground. Then, with berry juice still smeared all over its face, the child apologized. “Sorry, Aba. Can I carry something for you?”

  Aba had just opened its mouth to reply when a hand shot up out of the ground and took hold of Ola’s ankle. A head, torso, and arms appeared as the youngster screamed and tried to pull away. The thing looked human; but Aba knew it wasn’t human because the Droi had seen the creature before. Right after the hunters brought it in and immediately before the human shot it in the head. The bullet holes were still visible. But now, by some means Aba couldn’t understand, the machine had come back to life.

  Aba pointed the rifle and jerked the trigger. The firing pin fell on an empty chamber. For reasons of safety, all weapons not carried by guards were kept unloaded while the Droi were staying in an encampment. Aba was reaching for a magazine when the monster spoke. “Don’t move. I’ll kill the child if you do.”

  Aba watched in horror as it rose from the grave. Dirt cascaded off the creature as it stood. “But you dead,” Aba objected. “I see human kill.”

  “It took a while for my systems to repair themselves,” Jivv replied as the robot looked around. “Where did all of your people go? I see very few heat signatures.”

  “They go to dam,” Ola said brightly.

  Aba cursed silently. The Droi had planned to give the machine directions to an imaginary encampment and send it off into the forest. That was impossible now. And while a Droi or a human might have asked, “What dam?” the machine seemed to know.

  “What about the humans?” it demanded. “Did they go to the dam as well?”

  Aba had no choice and nodded mutely.

  The machine gestured for the Droi to come closer. “Give me the rifle and ammunition.”

  Aba remained where it was. “And then?”

  “Then I will free the child, and we go our separate ways.”

  Aba didn’t like it. Not one little bit. But what choice did it have? Slowly, step by step, the oldster moved forward. The machine let go of Ola in order to accept the rifle and ammunition. The child scampered away. “What do?” Aba inquired.

  “I’m going to find fugitive 2999 and kill her,” Jivv replied. And with that, the Synth started to run.

  * * *

  The sun was past its zenith, and rays of dusty sunshine slanted down through the trees as about fifteen hundred Droi and forty-two legionnaires made their way through the forest. It was relatively slow going because of Avery’s decision to avoid the jungle trails. McKee understood his logic. As she knew from personal experience, the Hudathans routinely sent drones along any path they could identify, and based on reports from Droi scouts, the ridge heads were placing tiny sensor packages along the most-traveled thoroughfares. A strategy that was bound to produce thousands of high-def wildlife photos. Of course, computers could and would be employed to sort through the incoming images for those that had intelligence value.

  So even though each individual was forced to pursue a zigzag course through the trees, and to consume more energy while doing so, McKee knew that the combined force was less likely to be spotted thanks to Avery’s approach. And the element of surprise would be critical to success.

  Such were her thoughts as she and her squad followed a contingent of Droi warriors in a northwesterly direction. The trees limited what she could see, so most of the battalion was invisible to her and, if the strategy was working, to the enemy as well.

  There weren’t enough T-1s to go around, so the bio bods had been ordered to rotate. The idea was to keep the bio bods, especially the demolition experts, rested. And at the moment, she was walking while Petit rode Eason.

  Of course, not all of her thoughts were strictly professional. Avery was on her mind as well. It felt good to have somebody in her life. But the pleasure came at a price. Because if Avery made her feel good, his existence represented a threat to her happiness as well. What if he were killed? As hundreds if not thousands would be.

  To have established another emotional connection only to have it severed would be extremely hard to take. That’s why it was better to keep her distance from everyone. That and the fact that officers weren’t allowed to have romantic relationships with enlisted people. Especially subordinates.

  But like a leaf that falls into a stream, McKee was powerless to control where she went or what happened next. All she could do was help blow the dam. Everything else was beyond her reach.

  The afternoon wore on, and as the sun dropped lower in the sky, Avery ordered a halt. Although the Hudathans were still jamming, the squad-level push was working okay except for momentary bursts of static. So Avery was able to communicate his wishes to the legionnaires electronically, while Insa passed orders to his people via runners and shrill whistles. A system which, thanks to codes worked out over hundreds of years, was quite effective.

  The battalion was about five miles short of the dam at that point. That meant they would have to march for a couple of hours early the next morning. But to camp any closer would be to risk detection from the drones that patrolled the area.

  In keeping with orders given prior to departure, humans and Droi alike made hundreds of tiny one-, two-, and three-person camps. And other than well-contained tea fires, none of them were allowed to cook. All in an effort to conceal the battalion from the eyes in the sky.

  But before McKee or her bio bods could eat, they had to perform maintenance on the T-1s. So it was an hour and a half later before they could break out their MREs, light a fuel tab, and heat their dinners. She didn’t know where Avery was—but thought he might drop by. He didn’t.

  McKee felt a sense of disappointment, scolded herself for being so self-centered, and set out to make the rounds. Her squad included bio bods Larkin, Caskin, and a private named Donobi. The cyborgs who had accompanied her to Riversplit were still with her—and a T-1 named Farber had been added to the roster. That meant she had seven people to worry about plus Sergeant Petit, Corporal Muncy, and Private Yamada, who were not only attached to the squad but under her orders until they arrived at the dam. During the tour she stopped to talk with each individual and was pleased to find that morale was pretty good, all things considered.

  The only thing that worried her was the fact that with more than fifteen hundred people spread out over what must have been a square mile of jungle, there was no defensive perimeter. But that couldn’t be helped because if the battalion were to create a marching camp, it would attract attention. All they could do was maintain a low profile and hope for the best.

  Night always fell earlier in the forest, so it was nearly dark by the time McKee returned to the clearing where she had started. Her heart jumped when she saw that Avery was sitting with his back to a tree eating his dinner. He looked up and smiled as she approached. The words were formal, and had to be with members of her squad all about. But there was no denying the warmth in his eyes. “Welcome back, Sergeant . . . How are the troops?”

  “Hower’s knee coupler is about ready for replacement,” McKee replied. “But it should hold up long enough to complete the mission. Other than that, all of our people are in good shape.”

  Avery grinned. “Even Noll?”

  “Private Noll is of the opinion that we could use a thousand additional troops.”

  Avery nodded soberly. “And Private Noll is correct. But we’ll have to get along without them.”

  McKee lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged. “Yes, sir. How are the Droi holding up?”

  Avery made a face. “Insa’s people are doing well. But communication with the northern tribe is spotty—and the two groups have a long history of mutual animosity to overcome. So things are a bit dicey at times.”

  McKee knew that could be a significant problem because the northerners were slated to attack first—and draw the Hudathans off the t
op of the dam and into the forest. An environment where the Droi warriors would have a much better chance to whittle the off-worlders down. Meanwhile, Avery’s battalion would attack from the south, sweep out onto the dam, and hold it long enough for the demolition team to do its work. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”

  Avery shrugged. “It will work or it won’t. All we can do is try. We’ll know how things went by this time tomorrow.”

  McKee knew he wanted to say more but couldn’t. She looked him in the eye. “Watch your six, sir.”

  Avery nodded. “You too, Sergeant. You too.”

  * * *

  Given what would be expected of them in the morning, Avery had allowed McKee’s squad to sleep uninterrupted. But doubts about her capacity to live up to her own expectations during the coming battle, and the knowledge that she might be dead in a few hours, prevented her from getting much rest. And Larkin’s snoring didn’t help either.

  So when her wrist chrono began to beep, she was already awake. It was still dark and would be for hours yet. After stowing the sleep sack and brushing her teeth, she went out to make the rounds. Then, having assured herself that everyone was up, she forced herself to eat. It wasn’t easy because her stomach felt queasy, but she knew that her body was going to need fuel.

  After eating what she could and mustering her squad, McKee waited for the order to move out. It was supposed to come at 0400. But that hour came and went with nothing except static on the radio. Finally, at 0417, Avery’s voice flooded her helmet. “Echo-Nine to Echo-Four. Over.”

  McKee chinned the transmit switch. “This is Four . . . Over.”

  “Our friends were running late,” Avery said matter-of-factly. “But they’re in position. You can move out. Over.”

  The northerners had clearly been operating on what the humans privately referred to as “Droi time.” “Roger that,” McKee replied. “Moving out. Over.”

  Colonel Rylund and his staff had done a masterful job of anticipating what the combined force would need in order to carry out their mission. And that included hundreds of glow sticks that had been loaded onto Kelly for the flight south—and subsequently distributed to the Droi scouts. Having activated the luminescent rods and stuck them down the back of their waistbands, selected warriors could lead the rest of the force forward in spite of the darkness. And given how critical their functions were, McKee and her people had their own contingent of scouts whose sole responsibility was to guide the legionnaires to their objective.

  McKee’s job was to follow the bobbing lights, keep her squad closed up tight, and deliver the demolition team to the target. The task sounded simple. But she discovered that it was difficult to distinguish her scouts from the others, some of whom were slated to veer off in different directions. So she called the warriors back and issued each one of them an additional glow rod. That made the task of identifying them much easier as the battalion crept forward.

  It took more than an hour to reach the first checkpoint, which was a quarter mile short of the dam. Then it was time to go to ground and wait until given the order to advance. McKee followed Wellington’s advice to “Piss when you can,” eyed her chrono, and wondered what Avery was doing.

  * * *

  Avery was at the very front of the formation, with Insa at his side. The dam had been built across a narrow gorge, and as the first blush of dawn appeared in the east, they could look down on it from a rocky promontory directly to the south. Two Hudathan sentries had been stationed there, and both had been killed by arrows launched from twenty feet away. That was how close the jungle-savvy Droi could come without being detected. But the sentries would be missed, so the clock was ticking as Avery studied the structure in front of him.

  He’d seen it all before, of course, but only secondhand, via the electronic images that McKee had brought back from Riversplit. But his current angle was different, and he could see more detail. Thanks to the documentation provided by Rylund’s staff, Avery knew he was looking at an arch-gravity dam. Meaning a dam that curves upstream, thereby pushing most of the water against the walls of the canyon. It was a strategy calculated to compress and strengthen the dam.

  A semicircular road sat atop the dam, and six Hudathan AA batteries were positioned along it. They hadn’t been present in the preinvasion satellite photos he’d seen, so it was clear that defenses had been improved in the wake of the first attack on the dam. Plenty of troops could be seen even at that early hour. After a quick head count, Avery concluded that there were at least 150 Hudathans on top of the bridge—and it seemed safe to assume that there were at least that many inside it. Airborne drones were visible as well, sniffing about like so many hound dogs, searching for a scent. Insa interrupted Avery’s train of thought by touching his arm. “Northern tribe ready.”

  Avery tilted the glasses up to examine the area north of the dam. He could see rocky walls and the jungle beyond but nothing more. And that was the way it was supposed to be. The Droi were hidden and would remain that way until he gave the order for them to attack. But there was a problem he had to deal with first. The drones were not only armed but would continue to send video to the Hudathan HQ so long as they were operational, and the less information the shovel heads received, the better. “Echo-Nine to Echo-Six,” Avery said. “Execute.”

  There were two clicks by way of a response. Half a minute later, a thermite grenade sailed out of the jungle, hit the access road, and took a single bounce before detonating inches off the pavement. Once it started to burn, the device generated a lot of heat. So much heat that every drone within half a mile of the grenade rushed to respond. Therefore, it was only a matter of seconds before fifteen or twenty of the machines were jostling each other for position as they sought to “see” what was taking place.

  That was when a dozen shoulder-launched fire-and-forget rockets shot out of the jungle and struck their targets. The explosions came in such quick succession that they produced a prolonged roar of sound. Those drones not targeted directly were hit by shrapnel or caught in a neighboring blast. The result was a cloud of smoke and falling scrap metal.

  “Tell the northerners to attack,” Avery said as he tilted the glasses upward.

  Insa had a handheld radio, the twin of a unit sent to his opposite number via runner two days earlier. It was a critical link. And as Insa spoke into it, Avery was struck by the nonstop flow of words. It seemed that the Droi were quite voluble when speaking their own language rather than standard.

  Having lost most of their drones, the Hudathans were lumbering toward the south end of the bridge ready to kill whatever they encountered. That changed as a boulder came tumbling down onto the north end of the bridge, took a lucky hop, and crushed an AA gun. Moments later, a phalanx of Droi warriors poured onto the road and spread out.

  Without any troops attacking them from the south, the now-frustrated Hudathans turned back to meet what they perceived as the real menace. It was only a matter of minutes before both sides opened fire, and people began to die. The ridge heads were better armed, so the native troops appeared to wilt as a hail of projectiles cut them down.

  The Droi started to retreat and, eager to punish them for their temerity, the Hudathans followed them into the jungle. But that, as the aliens were about to find out, was a mistake. Because more than a thousand indigs were waiting for them in the trees, and the fierce firefight could be heard clear on the other side of the gorge.

  The northerners had done their part, and it was time for the humans to do theirs. That meant Avery had to send McKee into harm’s way. The very thing he least wanted to do. Avery forced himself to speak. “Echo-Nine to Echo-Four. Execute.”

  * * *

  McKee felt as if she’d been waiting forever. So when Avery gave the order, it came as a relief. “This is Echo-Four. We’re going in. Over.”

  The next transmission went to her team. “You heard the man
. . . It’s time to earn your pay. Follow me.” Had Sergeant Hux said that? Was she imitating him? Or had the Steel Bitch taken over? She grinned wolfishly as Eason crashed through the underbrush that separated them from the access road. Stealth was no longer possible, and speed was extremely important.

  McKee was careful to keep her head down and eyed the HUD that was visible on the inside surface of her visor. She had to make sure that all of her people were following along behind including Petit, Muncy, and Yamada, who were on foot. They had six Droi warriors to help carry the explosives—and that was crucial if they were to keep up.

  It would have been nice to put the commandos on cyborgs. But with only seventeen T-1s to call on, Avery had been forced to make some difficult decisions, one of which was to have her squad clear the south end of the bridge rather than give Petit’s people a ride.

  Suddenly, the road appeared through a thin screen of vegetation, Eason skidded down a steep bank, and it was all McKee could do to hang on. Then they were on heat-fused soil and turning left. A roadblock lay directly ahead, and Eason fired a grenade at it. There was a flash followed by a loud bang, and two Hudathans fell.

  The remaining trooper stood his ground, however, and fired at the oncoming cyborg with a huge assault rifle. Bullets buzzed like bees as they passed McKee’s head, and a series of clangs signaled that Eason was taking hits. But the T-1 was firing the big Storm fifty by then—and even a 350-pound Hudathan couldn’t withstand a .50-caliber slug. At least six of the big rounds hit the alien, blew him in half, and kept on going.

  By that time, Eason was stutter-stepping through the remains of the Hudathan drones. Then, when he had cleared that obstacle, it was time to confront the Hudathans who were boiling out of an elevator tower. Some were fully equipped, but others were only partially so, and had probably been asleep when the attack began.

  McKee leaned back into the harness and let the AXE hang across her chest as she threw grenades at the newcomers. Eason was forced to slow down or risk running into an explosion.