Andromeda's Fall (Legion of the Damned) (27 page)

McKee knew Spurlock wasn’t trying to protect her. He was shocked, confused, and trying to reassert his authority. There was a long moment of silence as Jivv continued to point the pistol at McKee. But three Grays were present in addition to those who were restraining McKee. And all of their weapons were aimed at Jivv. There was no way to know what the robot was thinking—although McKee could guess. Having killed three out of four targets, Jivv was willing to wait. The synth would get another chance during the journey to Riversplit. And that was when McKee would die.

“Yes,” Jivv said as he lowered the weapon. “It shall be as you say. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will prepare for the trip.” Servos whined as the robot left the tent. Fugitives 1018, 1019, and 1022 had been terminated. It was, all things considered, a good day.

CHAPTER: 14

The Legion is a lot of things . . . But it’s never easy.

COMMAND SERGEANT MAJOR MARY MURDO

Twenty Years of War

Standard year 2617

PLANET ORLO II

The sky was gray and thunder muttered in the distance as McKee was escorted out into the compound. Dead. All of them were dead. Tears ran down her cheeks but were indistinguishable from the rain that soaked her hair and ran in rivulets down her face.

It was obvious that the battalion was preparing to leave as McKee was led to one of the huge 8 X 8 trucks and ordered to climb in. She winced as she pulled herself up into the transport and her shirt made contact with raw flesh. Rain pattered on the canopy over her head as a stone-faced Gray pointed toward the front of the vehicle.

In order to get there, McKee had to climb over cases of ammo and MREs. Rather than follow her forward, the guards sat opposite each other next to the fold-down tailgate. The perfect spot from which to look outside while they told each other largely fanciful war stories.

Because of the weather and the truck’s canopy, the light was so dim that McKee didn’t realize another person was present until she sat down. Avery smiled grimly. “Hello, Corporal. Fancy meeting you here. How’s your back?”

“Better, sir,” McKee said. “Thank you.”

Avery frowned. “You were in the command tent. I saw the Grays take you there. What happened?”

Before she could answer, there was a muted explosion, and both of them turned to look out through the back of the truck. All that remained of the command tent were pieces of flaming fabric that drifted down through the air and were quickly extinguished by the rain. Larger bits and pieces fell into puddles or landed in the mud. Engines started, orders were given, and the truck jerked ahead. The journey to Riversplit had begun.

Avery swayed slightly as the truck lurched through a pothole. His voice was gentle but insistent. “What happened in the command tent, McKee? I need to know.”

McKee remembered the look on Marcy’s face as Jivv cut her throat. The tears began to flow again. “Jivv killed the governor, his wife and niece. He was going to kill me, but Colonel Spurlock stopped him.”

“Why?” Avery demanded. “Why did you desert? And why would Jivv want to kill you?”

McKee looked at the guards and concluded that they were too far away to hear so long as she kept her voice down. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about her situation before and for good reason. Doing so could get both people killed. But Avery knew more than most. His brother was under suspicion. And he was under arrest. So maybe she could trust him. And there wasn’t any downside. Jivv knew her identity and was planning to kill her.

Avery listened as McKee told her story from beginning to end. There were moments when he looked surprised, like when she told him her real name, and others when he was clearly impressed. The fight in the hotel on Esparto being one example. And the true account of Comacho’s death being another. But, with the exception of a prompt here and there, Avery remained silent until she was finished. Then, in what might have been an attempt to lighten the mood, he smiled. “So I have a celebrity in Echo Company.”

“More like a troublemaker,” McKee replied. “I’m sorry, sir. You wouldn’t be under arrest if it wasn’t for me. It took guts to do what you did, and I appreciate it.”

Avery shrugged. “I was doing my duty. But you’re welcome. I thought there was something different about Corporal McKee, and I was right.”

“So what now?”

“All we can do is wait,” Avery replied. “And hope for the best.”

“I’m going down no matter what,” McKee put in. “But once we reach Riversplit, and Colonel Rylund gets involved, you might catch a break. I find it hard to believe that he would support charges against an officer who intervened to protect a legionnaire.”

“Maybe,” Avery said grimly. “But there’s something you don’t know. Or I assume you don’t know.”

McKee frowned. “What’s that?”

“Remember the Hudathan wreck? And the pilot that the Droi captured? Well, the ridge heads attacked Poe’s fleet two days ago and broke through. And they have already started to land here and there. That’s why the battalion hasn’t been reinforced. So given everything that’s going on, Rylund won’t have time to worry about Captain Avery or Corporal McKee. Once the outfit arrives in Riversplit, we’ll be thrown into cells—and our cases will be handed off to Lord knows who. We might even find ourselves in front of a court dominated by Grays.”

McKee thought about that. What Avery said was true but likely to apply to his situation rather than hers since she would be dead by then. But there was no point in saying that so she didn’t. The Hudathan landings were a surprise though—and they spent the next fifteen minutes speculating about how things would go.

Then the point came when neither one of them had anything to add, so they lapsed into silence for a while. Eventually, they spoke about other things, including their childhoods. Avery’s had been similar to McKee’s but different as well. She was an only child, but he had two brothers. There was Frank, who was in charge of the family’s pharmaceutical company, and George. Avery described George as a lost soul, but he sounded like a slacker, who had been openly critical of Empress Ophelia, thereby placing the entire family in jeopardy. “You chose the Legion,” McKee said once Avery had finished. “Why?”

Avery smiled. “There wasn’t any place for me in the family business—and I was looking for adventure. That sounds silly now—but I was seventeen when I applied to the academy.”

“I was kicked out of school when I was seventeen,” McKee observed. “For the third time. They wanted me to go to classes.”

Avery laughed. “And Corporal McKee is such a hard worker.”

“Are you referring to the Steel Bitch?”

“Yes, I am. The Steel Bitch is a good noncom. She gets things done.”

There were sporadic bouts of conversation after that, but even though McKee enjoyed talking to Avery, the reality of what lay ahead made it difficult to think about anything else. Meanwhile, the convoy continued to plow forward but slowly given the weather. The road hadn’t been much to begin with, and the torrential rain quickly turned it to a soupy mess. As the T-1s moved forward, big clods of mud clung to their foot pods, and even the 8 X 8 trucks had a tendency to bog down in the muck, which brought the entire battalion to a stop until they were freed. The result was slow progress at best.

Except for short breaks to relieve themselves, the prisoners were kept on the truck. Eventually, tedium took over, and they managed to doze for periods of time in spite of the jolting ride. As the light began to fade, the column came to a stop and formed a laager. McKee wondered if she and Avery were going to spend the night in a tent—but it soon became obvious that the prisoners and their guards were to remain on the truck.

Four outposts were established a hundred yards out to warn the unit if it was about to be attacked—but that was the extent of the defenses that Spurlock put in place. “The man’s an idiot,” Avery said bitterly, and McKee knew he was thinking about Echo Company’s safety. And the fact that he was willing to say as much to an enlisted person was a measure of something. But what? Trust? She hoped so.

In any case, Avery was correct. Spurlock’s failure to put more defensive measures in place was unforgivable, because if the enemy was shadowing the battalion, the results could be catastrophic. But maybe, just maybe, McKee could take advantage of the situation.

The opportunity to do so had to do with the bulkhead that separated the driver’s compartment from the cargo area where she was sitting. It was solid. But at the center of the divider, about a foot off the floor, a metal plate was visible. And it looked as though the panel could be removed so that personnel could move back and forth between the cab and the back of the truck should that be necessary.

Had the hatch been taken into consideration when the prisoners were ordered onto the truck? Or had the presence of the plate been overlooked? Because if it had, and McKee could access the cab, it would be relatively easy to slip out of the vehicle and vanish. The plan was chancy, to say the least, but she had nothing to lose.

But what about Avery? The charge against him was serious, and he could be court-martialed, but there was also the possibility that Rylund would refuse to prosecute one of his officers for defending a legionnaire. In that case, Avery might be better off staying behind. Or the officer could wind up in front of a hostile court. McKee figured it could break either way.

That was what she was thinking about when a couple of MREs were tossed toward the front of the cargo area. Avery was in the process of opening his when McKee spoke. “Sir, there’s something I need to tell you.”

What light there was emanated from a dangling glow strip. Avery looked up. “Shoot.”

McKee pointed to the panel. “I plan to remove that, enter the cab, and bail out.”

Avery frowned. “What if the driver is sleeping in the cab?”

“Then I’ll be SOL.”

Avery opened a container of mixed fruit and ate a spoonful. “Okay, count me in.”

McKee looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I thought you were smarter than that. Sir.”

Avery chucked. “So much for that theory.”

There was a companionable silence while they ate. Then, once they were finished, McKee explained her plan. Her voice was pitched low. “The guards will expect us to lie down. Once we do so, it will difficult for them to see what we’re doing. That’s when we’ll open the panel. It shouldn’t be difficult. Six toggle-style latches are holding it in place.”

“Roger that,” Avery said. “But let’s wait until most of the battalion is asleep.”

“Absolutely . . . I agree.”

“Then what?” Avery wanted to know. “Let’s say we make it into the forest. How will we survive?”

“I don’t know,” McKee admitted. “But at least we’ll be free.”

“All right. Let’s get some sleep. We’re going to need it.”

She tried to sleep but couldn’t. Fears about what would happen if the escape attempt failed kept her awake—as did the possibility that it would succeed. Because, in Avery’s words, “Then what?”

Time seemed to crawl by, and she was grateful when 0100, a time when all but those who had guard duty would be asleep, finally arrived. Apparently Avery had been awake, too, because as she stirred, so did he. It was difficult to see what the guards were doing. But that cut both ways, or McKee hoped that was the case as she went to work on the latches. The first four turned easily. But the fifth refused to budge. Perhaps it had always been tighter than the rest—or maybe it was rusted in place. In either case, the latch refused to give.

Avery whispered, “Let me give it a try.”

McKee squirmed out of the way so he could move in. The panel was free seconds later. Perhaps his fingers were stronger, or maybe it was simply a matter of luck, but whatever the reason, they were ready for the next step. And that was for Avery to press an ear against the plate and listen. McKee waited impatiently for his report.

Finally, after thirty seconds or so, Avery turned her way. “I can’t hear anything,” he whispered. “But that doesn’t mean the cab is empty.”

“True,” McKee replied. “So we’ll have to take a chance.”

Avery nodded. And since he was already in position, he lifted the panel out of the way. There was a pause while they waited to see if there would be a reaction. But nothing happened. It appeared that the cab was empty.

“I’ll go first,” McKee said. “I’m smaller.” That was true, but there was something else on her mind as well. Perhaps, if they caught her right away, Avery could escape blame. It wasn’t much, but his predicament was her fault, and she owed him.

McKee wriggled through the hole without difficulty and emerged between the two high-backed seats. Her back hurt because of the contact with the top edge of the aperture—and it took some effort to maneuver around the floor shift and slide into the driver’s seat. Rain rattled on the windshield, and it was almost pitch-black outside.

She heard a rustling sound and a muted swearword as Avery pushed his larger body into the cab and had to go through a number of contortions before taking his place in the passenger seat. It was tempting just to sit there for a while, savoring the moment and preparing for what lay ahead. But McKee knew time was of the essence. The guards in the back of the truck could check on them at any moment. So the sooner they slipped into the night, the better. She turned to Avery. “When we open the doors, the cab light will come on.”

“Not now,” Avery replied, as he reached up to flip a switch. “I’ll come around and meet you on your side.”

“Roger that. Let’s do it.”

The driver’s-side door opened smoothly, and because the 8 X 8 had a lot of ground clearance, it was necessary to jump. Cold raindrops hit McKee’s skin, water splashed away from her boots, and she could feel the adrenaline as it trickled into her bloodstream. Avery arrived moments later. “Ready? Let’s move.”

The officer took the lead, and McKee was happy to let him do so. There was no light to speak of. Just the glow from inside the mess tent, a momentary blip from a distant flashlight, and eerie blobs of phosphorescence that she knew to be nocturnal insects. So it was important to stay close as Avery pursued a zigzag path between vehicles and dimly seen shelters. McKee missed her helmet and the night-vision technology built into it. But any soldiers who happened to be in the area had theirs and could see the escaping prisoners if they were looking in the right direction. Luck, that’s what they needed, and lots of it.

Such were McKee’s thoughts as a beam of excruciatingly white light hit them, and an amplified voice said, “Hold it right there.”

McKee said, “Larkin? Is that you?”

“Aw shit,” came the reply. “Goddamn it, McKee . . . Why did you decide to run in
this
direction?”

The question was left unanswered as the escapees were forced to stop,
more
lights came on, and red targeting lasers explored their bodies. That was the good part. The bad part came moments later, when a squad of Grays took the legionnaires into custody and beat the crap out of them. Then, having imposed some rough-and-ready justice on the prisoners, the Grays loaded them back onto the truck. This time they were cuffed with their hands in front of them and their ankles bound. And, just to make sure that they didn’t escape in spite of the restraints, a guard was stationed in the cab.