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

distant hut. And that got McKee’s attention. They were likely to encounter a village soon. And when they did, the drones would scare the crap out of the locals. So she had the robots pull back and sent an advance party forward to replace them. It consisted of Storytell, Jivani, and a Naa warrior. Her hope was that the trio could gather Intel and prevent misunderstandings.
    Storytell’s role was to let the locals know what was coming. Jivani was there to keep him honest, and the warrior’s job was to provide the others with security. Would it work? McKee hoped so . . . But she was ready to send the first squad forward if things got dicey.
    Night came and went. The test came shortly after a nondescript dawn. The morning light found its way down through a thick layer of clouds to fill the valley with an uncertain glow. Columns of gray smoke could be seen up ahead and signaled the presence of a village. “Alpha-One-Five to Alpha-One. Over.”
    Jivani had been quick to pick up on the Legion’s military-radio procedures, and McKee was proud of her. “This is Alpha-One. Go. Over.”
    “We’re just outside a small village. Storytell is schmoozing the local chief. Twelve of his warriors were killed during the attack on the mesa, and he hates slick skins. Over.”
    “Uh, okay . . . That sounds bad, over.”
    “It
is
bad. But Storytell is getting ready to dispense some of the loot we captured up in the pass. That could make a difference. I suggest that you hold off on entering the village. Let’s give negotiations some more time. Over.”
    “That makes sense,” McKee agreed. “Keep me informed. Over.”
    Jivani clicked her mike twice by way of a response.
    McKee posted a drone to the east and west, put out pickets, and let the rest of the company take a bio break. The better part of thirty minutes passed before Jivani contacted her again. “Alpha-One-Five to Alpha-One. Over.”
    “Go Five. Over.”
    “We have a deal . . . Chief Digdeep accepted our gift and will no doubt send word of his negotiating prowess south. That means we’ll have to pay off every strongman between here and the south pole. Over.”
    McKee smiled. “It beats fighting them . . . Tell Storytell to keep the gifts small, or we’ll run out of loot. Over.”
    “Understood,” Jivani replied. “Over.”
    The column got under way shortly thereafter and passed through the village of Fastwater ten minutes later. It was little more than a clutch of twenty huts surrounded by a rotting palisade. Two T-1s would have been sufficient to destroy it. But McKee was glad to avoid that. She felt badly about the locals who had been killed attacking the mesa. Their loss would be felt for many years to come.
    The deeply rutted road was lined with ragged-looking villagers, all of whom stared at the column as it passed by. McKee saw one warrior finger the hilt of his knife, but other than that, there were no signs of overt hostility.
    The sun set half an hour later, but McKee couldn’t stop. Not with such short days to work with—and so many miles to cover. So she pulled the advance team back and put the drones on point with a couple of T-1s to back them up. The cyborgs could “see” any Naa who might be in the area regardless of how much light there was.
    There were some contacts, and that was to be expected. The Naa had no choice but to work through a couple of night cycles each day. Two local cycles later, it was time to stop and fort up. Like thousands of military commanders before her, McKee chose to camp on a hill. A defensive ditch was dug, lined with sharpened stakes, and seeded with computer-controlled crab mines. The missing element was a source of water. But even that problem was resolved when it began to rain. A steady drizzle continued for the next five hours.
    So when the time came to depart, the compound was a quagmire and there was half a foot of water in the defensive ditch. Fortunately, the crab mines could be disarmed and summoned