Free Andromeda's Fall (Legion of the Damned) by William C. Dietz

of their bunks and made for what the navy referred to as the “heads.” The compartments were of equal size, but due to the fact that there were fewer females, there was less competition for sinks and showers. So the women were among the first to exit and make their bunks. Then it was time to put on the clean uniforms and the boots they had worked so hard to polish the “night” before. As the half hour expired, the recruits were ordered to “stand to.”
    McKee watched out of the corner of her eye as Hasker and a stern-looking corporal came down the line, ripping poorly made bunks apart, pointing out flaws in the way uniforms had been pressed, and intentionally scuffing any boot that wasn’t shiny enough.
    Then it was her turn, and she braced herself for the worst, as Hasker stopped in front of her. His closely shaven face was only inches away, and she could see his furrowed brow and smell his aftershave. The NCO’s flinty eyes scanned her face, her uniform, and fell to her mirror-bright boots.
    Meanwhile, the corporal was eyeballing McKee’s rack. But rather than rip it apart, he took a step back. That left Hasker to deliver his judgment alone. “You ain’t no legionnaire, McKee. Not yet. But at least you look like one.”
    That was high praise coming from Hasker. And McKee felt an unexpected flush of pleasure. Because of all the thousands of compliments she had received during her life, she knew this one was real. And that meant a lot.
    After breakfast, the “boots” began a full day of training. The Tauri had broken orbit during the “night” and entered hyperspace a few hours later. That made it impossible to launch small craft, so the noncoms were able to take the recruits out onto the blast-scarred flight deck for a strenuous workout followed by an attempt to march. A seemingly outdated skill, but one that taught teamwork and still played a role in building esprit de corps .
    It was an often-comical affair, which Hasker referred to as “a complete fuck-up,” although neither he nor the other NCOs seemed to be particularly surprised. Probably because they had seen the whole thing many times before and knew that a lot of practice would be required to get it right.
    Then it was off to lunch, followed by a history lesson in the ship’s auditorium. The holo presentation began with the Legion’s birth and went on to document the early days in North Africa, Spain, and the Crimean War. All of which led up to the famous battle of Camerone, in which Captain Danjou and sixty-two legionnaires took on a much larger force at a village called Camerone. Finally, after Danjou had fallen, and with only four able-bodied legionnaires left, Sous-lieutenant Maudet ordered his men to level their bayonets and charge the more than two thousand Mexican soldiers who faced them.
    Maudet was killed almost immediately, as was a legionnaire named Catteau, who was shot nineteen times as he tried to protect the fallen officer. At that point, the survivors were called upon to surrender, and agreed to do so on the condition that they would be allowed to keep their weapons, and their wounded would be cared for.
    There would be thousands of battles to follow both on Earth and other planets, but none that meant so much. And it was then that she began to more fully understand the grim, inward-focused pride that people like Hasker felt for their organization.
    Classes continued through the afternoon. They covered a wide variety of subjects, including basic hygiene, the Imperial code of military justice, and the way the Legion was organized. The latter was of special interest to McKee, who knew that if she were to succeed in the Legion, it would be necessary to understand it.
    Then it was dinnertime, and as her platoon prepared to leave for chow, Hasker made the announcement that McKee’s platoon had been dreading. “You people have KP tonight, so remain on the mess deck when you finish eating. Petty Officer Chan will collect you at 1700