Free Andromeda's War (Legion of the Damned Book 3) by William C. Dietz

Naa free to help their wounded while McKee sent for Private Toto. The T-1 arrived a few minutes later. The so-called cans on the cyborg’s shoulders had been reloaded by then, so he was ready to fire twelve independently targeted rockets. “Take the fort out,” McKee ordered. “But don’t use any more ordnance than you have to.”
    Toto nodded his huge head. “Yes, ma’am.”
    Thanks to her HUD, McKee had a Toto-eye view as the T-1 topped the rise and went to work. He fired the rockets one at a time. Each was targeted on a rifle slit. And it wasn’t long before a large hole appeared in the fort’s east wall. Toto sent two missiles through the gap. One followed the other so closely, she heard what sounded like a single boom. The explosion was so powerful that a section of roof went airborne, and jets of fire shot out through the rifle slits. It appeared that the fort’s main magazine had gone up, and McKee ordered Toto to stop firing.
    McKee waited to see what would happen next and felt relieved when there were no further signs of resistance. So she sent what remained of the first squad forward to clear the fort, ordered the column up onto the ridge, and began the process of assessing how badly the company had been mauled.
    Thirteen Naa had been killed. Fourteen, counting Sureshot. And three legionnaires were dead, two of whom were T-1s. A serious blow indeed—and McKee blamed herself for it. Allowing Sureshot to handle the negotiations had been a serious error in judgment. And the realization made her sick to her stomach.
    There were wounded, too . . . Seven in all. Two of whom were in critical condition, a Human and a Naa. So McKee sent for a com tech and told her to request a dustoff, plus replacements, and some more supplies.
    Night was on the way. So McKee told Larkin to establish observation posts (OPs) on both slopes—and to set up a quick-reaction force comprised of both Humans and Naa. She had been afraid that the indigs would pack up and leave in the wake of Sureshot’s death. But Jivani had been talking to the Naa, who assured her that they planned to stay. “They know your reputation,” the civilian said simply. “And they want revenge.” That suited McKee just fine.
    The fly-form arrived half an hour later. McKee half expected a senior officer to be aboard. Cavenaugh perhaps . . . Come to tell her how stupid she had been. However, when the cyborg landed, it was empty except for the flight crew and two medics. But, after giving the matter some additional thought, McKee realized that made sense. The situation would look innocent enough to a person who read her preliminary report but hadn’t been on the ground. Sureshot negotiated a deal, Bigclub went back on his word, and the company fought its way up onto the ridge. No big deal if you were sitting in a chair drinking coffee.
    So there weren’t any senior officers, and no reinforcements, either. Fortunately, her request for supplies had been honored. Part of it anyway . . . And as a squad of legionnaires carried cases of ammo off the fly-form, another carried bodies onto it. Bodies plus two brain boxes. McKee wanted to cry but couldn’t allow herself to do so.
    The casualties went aboard last. McKee said good-bye to them, thanked the crew, and left via the ramp. Grit flew in every direction as the fly-form lifted off. The people on board would arrive at Fort Camerone in less than an hour. Not just a place, but a whole different world, filled with luxuries like hot showers, palatable food, and real beds.
    Finally, having met everyone else’s needs, McKee had a moment in which to reflect on everything that had occurred. The fort was little more than a pile of rubble, so she took an MRE and a mug of hot caf out to a point where she could lean on a rock and look out to the mountains beyond. The Towers of Algeron had a pink hue thanks to the quickly rising sun.
    The beautiful sunrise and the hot meal combined to lift McKee’s spirits a bit.