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

And as McKee spooned rice and beans into her mouth, she carried out a blow-by-blow review of the battle. Never mind the
why
of it . . . What had gone well? And what hadn’t? Larkin had stepped up—and so had the troops. And then there was Andy . . .
    McKee’s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. There hadn’t been time to think. But how had a combot been able to kick so much ass? As far as she knew, such machines weren’t programmed for combat—and if they weren’t programmed for something, they couldn’t do it. What did that suggest? What felt like an injection of ice water entered McKee’s veins. The answer was obvious. Andy wasn’t a combot—Andy was a synth. Sent to check on her. Sent to kill her if necessary.
    McKee’s appetite had disappeared. She put the bowl down and stuck her spoon into the quickly congealing pile of rice and beans. It made sense. She’d been forced to kill
three
government operatives over the last few months. One had been assassinated, while the others had been neutralized in less obvious ways. So it seemed reasonable to believe that the people at the Bureau of Missing Persons didn’t
know
she was someone other than who she claimed to be . . . But they suspected as much. And, rather than send a synth that looked like what it was, they had chosen to send a synth disguised as a combot.
    The substitution could have fooled her for a long time. But unlike combots, synths were programmed to defend themselves when attacked, so when the bandits charged out of their hiding place, Andy did what it was supposed to do. And that was a good thing. McKee knew the truth now. So, what to do? Find a way to terminate the robot? Or attempt to fool it?
    McKee tried to remember anything she might have said or done that would give her identity away. She couldn’t. But there were other possibilities. After they murdered her parents, it was reasonable to suppose that government agents had orders to harvest DNA samples from their bodies. So what if Andy had taken samples of her DNA? It would be easy enough to do. All the machine had to do was swab her coffee mug or the equivalent thereof.
    Where did that leave her? If Andy had a fatal accident, that would look suspicious. Especially in light of her recent history. And if she allowed the robot to deliver a DNA sample to the BMP she would wind up dead shortly thereafter. It was a lose-lose situation and one that would require additional thought.
    After eight hours of rest and maintenance, the company was ready to head south. That meant McKee had to face a difficult decision. Should she leave enough troops to hold the pass? So as to secure her line of retreat? Or should she take everyone with her—and hope for a dustoff later? Both strategies had inherent advantages, but after giving the matter some thought, McKee decided to keep her force intact. She couldn’t afford to leave more than two squads behind and was painfully aware of the fact that such a small group wouldn’t be able to hold the pass against a force of fifty or sixty Naa. And because the company might have to fight its way south, McKee wanted to keep as much firepower as she could.
    So the column formed up and followed the drones down the south side of the pass into a rock-strewn valley. Trees grew in small clumps, streams tumbled down steep hillsides, and the road was a series of switchbacks. Eventually, the valley widened out, and a multitude of streams joined forces to create a river. It flowed through a succession of boulder gardens and accompanied the road south. Two miles later, they came to a campsite reminiscent of the one on the north side of the pass. It, too, had its own graveyard.
    There were no signs of life other than a pair of long wings riding the thermals high above. And that was fine with McKee. As the short day wore on, the previously barren valley began to green up, and signs of habitation appeared. The first was a solitary finger of smoke signaling the presence of a