Andromeda’s Choice (20 page)

Dero was seated behind a beat-up desk. She said, “At ease,” and pointed to the door. “Close that. Choose any chair you want.” There was only one, and McKee grinned as she sat on it.

“Okay,” Dero said, “we're fairly well acquainted at this point . . . And your style is similar to my own—which is to say direct. So I'll get right to the point. What's the nature of the beef between Captain Heacox and you?”

This was delicate territory. Making critical statements about a superior officer could be interpreted as insubordination. And McKee could be brought up on charges.

On the other hand, she sensed that Dero wanted to help her—and it would be stupid to clam up completely. “We came out on the same ship,” McKee said. “The lieutenant, I mean captain and I had a disagreement about some personnel matters, and words were exchanged.”

Dero's eyes narrowed. “I heard a story a few weeks ago. Something about bucket fights—and you kicking some sergeant's ass. He reported to Heacox if I'm not mistaken.”

Dero was very well informed. But that shouldn't come as a surprise since the Legion was like a small town. There were damned few secrets. McKee kept her face blank. “You know how stories are, ma'am. They're rarely reliable.”

Dero grinned. “Okay, enough said. Here's the situation. Heacox had a little tête-à-tête with me late yesterday. To say that he doesn't like you would be an understatement. More than that, he wants to break you down to private. So I have orders to give you every shit detail I can think of, work you till you drop, and document every mistake you make.”

There was nothing McKee could say but, “Ma'am, yes, ma'am.”

“I will take the matter up with Major Sabatha if Heacox exceeds his authority, or tells me to do something illegal,” Dero added. “But he hasn't so far. Do you read me?”

“Ma'am, yes, ma'am.”

“Good. We understand each other then. Do the best you can.”

McKee knew the officer had gone way out on a limb to warn her and felt a sense of gratitude. “Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.”

Dero glanced at her terminal and back. “You and your squad will have two hours of guard duty every day until further notice.”

Two hours was the amount of free time that most legionnaires could expect while not in the field. “The squad, too?” McKee inquired. “Why?”

Dero shrugged and seemed to choose her words with care. “I don't know. But, after a while, your subordinates may come to blame you for their predicament. That would be something to guard against.”

Guard against? How would she do that? But McKee knew Dero had gone as far as she could. “Ma'am, yes, ma'am. Will that be all?”

“Yes. Dismissed.”

McKee stood, opened the door, and left the tiny office.

The extra guard duty began that evening, as did the bitching. “Why us?” Larkin wanted to know. McKee could have explained,
wanted
to explain, but didn't. Because to do so would be to criticize a superior officer. And that, she suspected, was what Heacox was hoping for. So all she could do was lead her squad out to Observation Post Charlie and put in the necessary time.

It was cold, and a steady sleet was blowing in from the south. Thanks to the heat that Ree-Ree put out, the front of McKee's body was warm, but her butt was cold and going to remain that way until they were back inside the fort.

Jaggi had returned to duty by that time, and two replacements had joined the squad. A bio bod named Olsen and a T-1 named Sykes. Olsen didn't have much to say, but the cyborg was an extrovert and clearly determined to fit in. The new people were a plus since they didn't realize that the squad was being mistreated. But McKee knew the honeymoon would soon be over.

There was hope, however. Everybody knew that shuttles had been bringing hundreds of mysterious crates down from orbit, all of the 2
nd
's various battalions were prepping for something, and whatever that was might keep Heacox off her back. McKee hoped so as she stared out into the night, watching for any signs of movement. Because, despite Heacox's motives, the task was real enough. It was important to keep the “wild Naa” away from the fort lest they learn too much about its defenses or launch a hit-and-run mortar attack.

But two hours of guard duty produced nothing more than a false alarm when something triggered a motion detector five hundred yards in front of them, and McKee sent half her squad out to take a look. They found animal tracks in the slush, then made their way back to the OP, and spent the next twenty minutes bitching about how cold it was.

The sun had just begun to rise when a squad from the first platoon came out to relieve them. The next couple of hours were spent on maintenance, gearing up for the training exercise scheduled for the next morning, and grabbing a bite to eat. Then it was time to hit the sack.

“Morning” came all too quickly. As was her practice, McKee rose before her squad, worked her way through some routine reports, and managed to snatch a quick bite to eat before muster. The training exercise had been dubbed “Operation Push” by some staff officer and involved escorting a group of engineers to a river, where they were supposed to build an imaginary bridge, while the Naa tried to attack them. Except that the Naa were being played by members of the 2
nd
REI.

And, in keeping with Heacox's effort to pressure McKee in every possible way, she and her squad started the day on point and remained there hour after grueling hour. A practice that put both the company and the engineers they were supposed to protect at risk because there were
real
Naa to worry about, and if McKee and her people failed to do their job effectively, lives could be lost.

Not Heacox's, however, since he had elected to travel aboard a fly-form, so as “to scout ahead.” The problem being that after a single pass, the aircraft hadn't been seen again. It was impossible to know what the company's XO thought about that, but McKee gave him credit for coming forward and taking up a station only a few feet to her right. A position that would put him in harm's way if the shit hit the fan. His name was Ashari, and he appeared to be reasonably competent. Something that soon became apparent when the road topped a rise and disappeared into a boulder-framed canyon. The perfect spot for an ambush.

Heacox and his fly-form could have been useful at that point but hadn't been heard from for more than an hour. So rather than enter the canyon blind, Ashari ordered the third squad of the third platoon to fire the shoulder-mounted missile launchers that they were carrying in place of bio bods. Not real missiles but the flash-bangs used for training purposes.

There was a momentary roar of sound as the weapons took off, arched upwards, and fell into the canyon. McKee knew the technique was called a reconnaissance by fire, the idea being to provoke a response, thereby revealing where the enemy was. And it did. Not from the Naa, but from members of the 2
nd
REI, who had been lying in wait along the west side of the narrow passageway. They came out firing, and it was up to those on point to hold them off while Ashari ordered the company to take cover and return fire.

McKee knew the clash was being monitored by a satellite and refereed by a computer back at the fort. But it
felt
real enough as the “enemy” fired their weapons at her squad, and Chang was “killed.” Her T-1 could fight on, however, and did until the AI at Fort Camerone listed him as KIA.

McKee saw what she judged to be an opportunity as the enemy sought cover around the mouth of the canyon. If she and what remained of her squad could circle around the enemy's right flank, they could not only divide their fire but get a shot at the mortars that were responsible for “killing” Chang and her T-1. “Bravo-Eight to Bravo-Two. Request permission to attack the enemy's right flank.”

The response was immediate. “This is Two. Go for it.”

So McKee gave the necessary orders over the squad freq and was impressed by the way that Privates Olsen and Sykes immediately charged into action. Unfortunately, they were spotted right away, as was the rest of the squad, which was obliterated by an artillery barrage fired from down canyon somewhere.

The company still managed to give a good account of itself, however, when two quads arrived on the scene. They fired a barrage of missiles at the entrance to the canyon that triggered a rockslide, blocked the enemy's line of retreat, and forced them to surrender. A win that would be credited to Heacox even though it was his XO who deserved the attaboy. McKee wondered how Ashari felt about that—but knew she would never find out.

The next couple of days were long and grueling. But they were also uneventful, and that was fine with McKee. Her plan was to run out the clock while waiting for something to rescue her. And, since Naa Town had been placed off-limits in the wake of a murder, the squad was stuck in the fort. So while the legionnaires still felt resentful where the extra guard duty was concerned, they knew they weren't missing anything. Unfortunately, the busy schedule meant that McKee hadn't had time to deal with Travers. But that couldn't be helped, and as far as she could tell, the civilian wasn't aware of her.

Heacox was, however, as became apparent when Dero came to roust her out of bed. McKee had a cubicle at one end of her squad bay, but it was open to the central corridor. She was halfway through six hours of much-needed sleep when the hand shook her shoulder. “Rise and shine, Sergeant . . . The captain wants to see you.”

McKee sat up, swung her bare feet over onto the cold floor, and yawned. “The captain? Why?”

“Remember Major Hasbro?”

“Yes, of course.”

“He was on some sort of surveying mission. His fly-form went down south of here, and Heacox wants you to find him.”

McKee was getting dressed by then. “Okay, but why not send a fly-form to pick him up?”

“Can't,” Dero said. “The whole area is socked in. Besides, Heacox wants
you
to do it.”

Something about the officer's tone caused McKee to turn and look at her. “So it's like that.”

“Yeah . . . It's like that. Or so it seems to me. But you know what? If the decision were up to me, I would choose you, too. But for different reasons.”

That was quite a compliment. Especially coming from Dero. Was it bullshit? No. Some other officer maybe, but not Dero. McKee nodded. “Thank you, ma'am. Once I lace up my boots, I'll be ready to go.”

It was a five-minute walk to Heacox's office, and when Dero knocked, he said, “Enter.” Heacox was seated behind his desk. Both visitors were in the process of coming to attention when he said, “At ease.”

He didn't invite them to sit, however—and McKee wondered if that was because of her. As for the man himself, his eyes were still dead, his uniform was impeccable, and the items on his desk were arranged in a row. He blinked three times. “I have a job for you,” Heacox said without preamble. “Take a look at this.”

Heacox pointed a remote at a wall-mounted flat screen, and a contour map appeared. McKee could see the fort, the road that went south, and rank after rank of hills. “Major Hasbro's fly-form went down
here
,” Heacox said, as a red dot appeared on the screen. “Take your squad, go there, and secure the crash site. We'll send a fly-form as soon as the weather clears.”

There was nothing McKee could say except, “Yes, sir.”

Dero cleared her throat. “Be advised that there is enemy activity in the area.”

Heacox looked annoyed. “Just before the cloud cover moved in, one of our satellites spotted a group of Naa moving north toward the crash site. But that shouldn't concern a noncom who won the Imperial Order of Merit, should it?” The comment was accompanied by a smirk.

McKee wanted to jump the desk and bounce his head off the wall. But an attack on an officer would put McKee in prison for twenty years. So she battled to keep her temper in check. “How many of them are there?”

Heacox smiled slowly. “Only a hundred or so . . . Child's play for someone like you. Lieutenant Dero will provide the details. Dismissed.”

So that was it. Heacox had called her in for the sole purpose of letting McKee know that he was sending her on what could be a suicide mission. All without any concern for the legionnaires in her squad or Major Hasbro. And it was foolproof. If the mission failed, and all of them were killed, Heacox would point out that he had sent the very best. A sergeant with an IOM no less. And if his superiors questioned the decision to send a single squad, Heacox could argue that a larger force was likely to get in its own way—and wouldn't be able to travel as quickly.

McKee came to attention, did a neat about-face, and marched out of the office. Dero was right behind her. Neither of them spoke until they were twenty feet down the hall. “Alert your team, gear up, and get out of here,” Dero instructed.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And one more thing. Find Grisso and tell him that I'm sending Sam Voby with you. A couple of rocket launchers could come in handy.”

McKee knew that the T-1 was part of the first squad and currently equipped with a pair of launchers. That would give her squad the capability to strike targets up to a mile away. It was a nice gift and one Heacox would heartily disapprove of. McKee said, “Yes, ma'am. And thank you.”

“I wish I could do more,” Dero replied. “I'll be monitoring your frequency. And McKee . . .”

“Ma'am?”

“Watch your six.”

 • • • 

It took two long, agonizing hours to roust the squad, get them ready for what could be a five-or-six-day mission, and exit the fort. Rather than think about Heacox and his motives, McKee chose to focus on Hasbro. She liked the major and wanted to help him. Her plan was to reach him quickly, before the indigs did if that was possible, and fort up. That seemed to suggest a straight run down the road. But was such a course wise?