Andromeda's War (Legion of the Damned Book 3) (33 page)

Then, as McKee rounded the side of a boulder, the answer came to her. It was the helmet! It was broadcasting her location on a frequency the synth could intercept. But could that work
for
her? Maybe.

McKee set the trap and ducked out of sight. Thirty seconds passed before the synth dropped from a ledge up above. It took the shock with bent knees before straightening up. The machine was reaching for the helmet when McKee pulled the trigger. That produced a loud
BOOM
. The robot was forced to take two steps backwards as the twelve-gauge slug struck its chest. The android looked down at the dent and back up again. The machine pistol was coming to bear when McKee pulled the trigger again. The slug blew a hole through the synth’s head. There was a
thump
as it hit the ground. “That’s three,” she said, and felt suddenly dizzy.

There was a patch of shade, and McKee sat in it. She should collect the helmet, recover the synth’s weapons, and check on the sled. But that would require standing up, and she couldn’t summon the energy. Five minutes. That’s all she needed. Then she’d be raring to go. McKee let her head rest on the rock, allowed her eyes to close, and sleep carried her away.

It was the heat that finally woke her. And when she looked at her chrono, McKee realized that more than two hours had passed. Two precious hours during which Ophelia had been on the run. She swore, got to her feet, and went over to the helmet, which she turned off. The locator beacon had betrayed her once. She didn’t want that to happen again.

With that accomplished, it was time to collect the machine pistol, the ammo that went with it, and the rifle that had been left on top of the hill. McKee felt a sense of despair as she carried the arsenal down to the sled. The hovercraft had gone partway up the slope, slipped sideways, and flipped over. And it was too heavy to lift without help. All she could do was salvage the canteens, choose which weapons to take with her, and get going.

It was impossible to know what sort of situation might await her, and that made the choice of weapons difficult. But after giving the matter some thought, McKee settled on the sniper’s rifle in addition to her pistol. Her logic was that it would be difficult to close with the fugitives, but she might be able to spot Ophelia from a distance.

Rather than leave the machine pistol and the shotgun for the next Paguumi who happened by, she hid both the weapons and eight pounds’ worth of body armor in a crevice about two hundred feet away from the sled. Then she began to walk. The helmet was strapped to the pack, which contained extra ammo, two canteens of water, and a first-aid kit.

It took a while to find the synth’s tracks and follow them back to the point where they parted company with the other footprints. Some had been made by standard-issue boots, while the rest belonged to a robot. And that robot had to be Daska since the rest of the synths had been eliminated.

That was the good news. The bad news was that the trail was hours old and degrading fast. Each gust of hot, dry wind blew sand over the impressions and made them more difficult to see. Still, even though the spoor was steadily disappearing, the line of march was constant and therefore predictable. Ophelia wasn’t wandering around the desert. She was headed somewhere. To a pickup point? Probably. Daska could and would be in contact with the navy. That meant every hour was precious. McKee quickened her pace.

It was growing steadily warmer as the sun climbed higher in the sky, and McKee knew she wouldn’t be able to catch up using a quick march. That forced her to adopt what the Legion called a double march—a speed roughly equivalent to a jog. Something any legionnaire should be able to maintain for hours at a time. Especially with a light load. Could Ophelia do the same? McKee didn’t think so. Yes, Daska could carry the bitch, but that would slow both of them down.

Time passed, the sun beat down, and McKee wished she had a hat. But she didn’t, so all she could do was watch the terrain ahead and choose the fastest routes.

An aircraft passed over her about thirty minutes later. It was very high, so there was no way to know who was flying it—or what the plane’s mission might be. It did get McKee to thinking, however. By this time both she and Avery were listed as MIA. So the Legion would be searching for them. Still another threat.

Time and distance lost all meaning after a while. McKee felt as if she were floating along as the horizon swayed back and forth, and her boots hit the ground. And that was dangerous because if McKee wasn’t careful, she could run into a trap.

So she forced herself to stop every now and then to take a drink of water and eyeball the terrain ahead. And it was during what might have been the eighth or ninth stop that she spotted a speck, no a pair of specks, off in the distance!

McKee brought the rifle around so she could peer through the scope. The images seemed to leap forward, and one of them was Ophelia! The empress was walking slowly, with Daska a pace or two behind.

McKee felt a sudden surge of energy. The bitch was within reach! With the rifle slung across her back, she began to run. The desert was flat for the most part, but there were dips. Each time she passed such a depression, the targets dropped out of sight. Then, as she topped the next rise, the figures were a tiny bit closer.

Meanwhile, McKee forced herself to think. What would the endgame be like? As soon as Ophelia realized that McKee was closing in on her, she would send Daska back to kill her pursuer. And that could work. So, what to do?

McKee ran halfway up a likely-looking slope and threw herself to the ground well short of the crest. Then, with the rifle across her arms, she low crawled to the top. Once in place, it took a moment to find the target and place the crosshairs on Ophelia’s back. The logical thing to do was to shoot the empress right then. But, right or wrong, McKee wanted to confront the bitch—wanted to see the look in Ophelia’s eyes just before she died.

So McKee swung the crosshairs over to Daska. The last synth had been able to survive a shotgun blast to the chest. So what impact would a .308 rifle bullet have on the robot? Especially at long range? Of course, McKee knew a great deal about robots, cyborgs, and their weak spots. One of which was the area right behind their knees. She could try for that.

That kind of shot would involve considerable risk, however. A miss could warn the targets and send them into hiding. That would force McKee to cross a lot of open ground before she could close with them. And the long gun would be a liability at short range. Yet what choice was there? She needed to stop them and to do so quickly.

McKee drew a lungful of air and let it go. The trigger broke, and the rifle butt kicked her shoulder. McKee saw the puff of dust slightly to the right of Daska and swore. The sight was off, the side breeze was stronger than she’d thought it was, or both.

The fugitives stopped and turned. That was when McKee realized that neither one of them had seen the bullet strike. It was the report they were reacting to. McKee had one last chance. She made the necessary adjustment and fired. The second shot was right where she wanted it. Daska’s head jerked as the bullet struck the robot’s right “eye.”

It wasn’t a killing shot, though. Not at that distance. There was something very Human about the way the synth brought a hand up to touch the shattered sensor. That was when McKee fired again and uttered a whoop of joy as her bullet pulped Daska’s
second
eye. Blind now, Daska staggered in a circle, hands extended. And because the robot looked like Ophelia, it was like watching the empress. But Ophelia was untouched. She bent to retrieve Daska’s machine pistol before turning to flee.

McKee stood and paused to reload the rifle before starting to run. It was no contest. McKee was in good shape, and Ophelia wasn’t. McKee ran past the spot where Daska was walking in circles and kept on going. Ophelia was running full out by that time and turned to trigger a flurry of shots. The bullets went wide, as McKee continued to close in.

Desperate now, the empress stopped and turned with weapon raised. But McKee was ready. The pistol was up and rock steady. She fired, and the bullet hit Ophelia’s left kneecap. The machine pistol went flying as the empress collapsed. “That was for my father,” McKee said as she walked forward closer. “The next one is for my mother.”

“No!” Ophelia said desperately. “You can have anything you want. Money, property,
anything
.”

“Can you bring thousands of dead people back to life?” McKee demanded. “I don’t think so.” There was a loud report as she squeezed the trigger. There was a spray of blood as the bullet pulped Ophelia’s right knee.

The empress wrapped her arms around what remained of her knees and produced a pitiful keening sound. McKee felt no sympathy for her.
“Who are you?”
Ophelia demanded as she looked up into the legionnaire’s scarred face.

“My name is Lady Catherine Carletto,” McKee answered coolly. “And this one is for Uncle Rex.” There was a third report, and Ophelia’s head snapped back as a third eye appeared between the other two. The body slumped to the ground.

McKee stood there for a moment. Her mind was reeling as she absorbed the full impact of what she’d done and what it would mean for her life. Then, hand shaking, she returned the pistol to its holster. What should she do next? The answer was obvious. Hide Ophelia’s body. And do it quickly. Maybe, if she did a good job, it would never be found.

McKee heard the scuff of a foot and had already started to turn when Daska wrapped an arm around her throat. That was when McKee realized that although the robot was blind, it could still hear. And it had been able to follow the gunshots and the sound of her voice to the spot where she stood.

McKee brought both hands up in a futile effort to break the machine’s grip. But the arm was like an iron bar. And as Daska tightened its hold it became impossible to breathe. McKee knew she had seconds in which to react. Her lungs were on fire, and she was about to lose consciousness. The fingers of her right hand felt for the pistol and found it. She thumbed the safety off as the weapon left its holster. Was there a bullet in the chamber? Yes, there should be.

Daska stood a head taller than McKee. That allowed the legionnaire to point the weapon up and back. She jerked the trigger and kept jerking it. The reports were deafening. But when the pistol clicked empty, the arm was still in place. McKee thought she had missed until the robot fell over backwards and took her with it.

They hit hard, McKee discovered that she could breathe again and fought to free herself. Once she was out from under the arm, McKee turned to see that the right side of Daska’s face was gone, exposing part of its main processor. She rolled to her feet and gave the synth a kick. There was no response.

It was second nature to hit the release and slide a fresh magazine into the pistol. Then, with the weapon back in its holster, she went to work. Ophelia had been on her way to an extraction point—and it seemed safe to assume that it wasn’t far away. So every minute was critical.

McKee ran a wide circle around the bodies and felt a sense of relief as she spotted the empty space below a wedge of upthrust rock. She didn’t have the time or the tools required to dig conventional graves. But after pushing the bodies in under the rock formation, she could wall them in. Not perfect, perhaps, but it could work given a bit of luck. Savas was a big planet after all—most of which remained unsettled.

McKee grabbed Ophelia by the ankles and dragged her a hundred feet over to the rock. The empress wasn’t all that heavy, but it was hot work nevertheless, and McKee was gasping for breath by the time the job was done.

Then it was time to go back for Daska. The robot weighed at least twenty pounds more than the Human had. It took every bit of McKee’s strength to drag the machine over and push it into the shady crevice. Now both bodies were invisible from above. McKee allowed herself a swig of water before going out to kick dirt over Ophelia’s blood and retrieve the machine pistol.

That was when she heard a distant roar and felt a stab of fear. An aircraft! Headed her way! McKee scooped the machine pistol off the ground and ran for the rock. As she dived under the overhang, McKee scrabbled forward so that her boots wouldn’t be visible from above.

The boxy shuttle arrived thirty seconds later. It was low,
very
low, and riding its repellers. That would use a lot of fuel but allowed the aircraft to creep along. And it didn’t take a genius to guess who the crew was looking for.

But they couldn’t see Ophelia since she was only inches away from McKee. So close that McKee could see that the woman’s left ear had been pierced twice.

The repellers stirred up a miniature dust storm as they jabbed the desert floor and erased the footprints that crisscrossed the area. A mercy for which McKee was extremely grateful. Sand continued to fly as two aerospace fighters roared overhead, and the shuttle continued on its way.

It was tempting to exit her hiding place, but McKee knew that would be a mistake. There were bound to be eyes in the sky.
Powerful
eyes looking down on that part of the planet’s surface. No, difficult though it might be, the smart thing was to remain where she was until darkness fell.

So McKee lay next to the woman who had killed so many, wondered what would become of Nicolai and whether he would make a better ruler. Eventually, she fell asleep. And when she awoke, it was to a loud
boom!
A bomb? No. There was a flash of light and
another
clap of thunder. Then it began to rain.

McKee could hardly believe it. She wiggled out into the open and stood. Then, with head tilted back, she let the rain pelt her face, fill her mouth, and soak her filthy clothes. The feel of it was so good that she decided to strip down and take her first shower in weeks.

The rain helped to cleanse her body and clear her mind. Rain meant clouds, and clouds would prevent people from seeing her from above. So she freed the helmet from the pack and put it on. Could she risk using the light? Yes, she thought so, since it was separate from the rest of the electronics. And, thanks to the rain, the glow would be impossible to see from more than a hundred feet away.