Andromeda’s Choice Read Free

motives had very little to do with traditional morality. And, to the extent that the Combine was fleecing what she considered to be
her
sheep, the empress was unhappy. “So,” he said, “we have a lot in common.”
    There was a loud crash as the Sayer opened her mouth to respond. Then a huge drill bit came down through the ceiling, quickly followed by a cascade of debris, dirt, and a steady stream of water. As it struck, the table shattered, causing all three participants to stand and back away. Rex had seen the technology used on enemy bunkers. But never from that perspective. “It’s a penetrator,” he announced. “Once they jerk it up and out, troops will drop through the shaft.”
    There was a loud whining noise, and more dirt fell as the penetrator went into reverse and was withdrawn. Somehow, some way, Ophelia’s security people knew about the meeting and where it was being held. Then, having positioned the necessary equipment directly over the Blue Moon, they’d struck. “I think it’s time to leave,” Vas said, as he drew a pair of energy pistols. Rex had to agree. The meeting was over.
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    PLANET ORLO II
    The rain hit the top layer of the forest, ran off a multitude of leaves, and fell again. McKee heard it rattle on her helmet before streaming down onto her already wet poncho. Most of it anyway, although a trickle of water found its way under her collar and into her clothes. It was tempting to change position, or to try to tighten the seal around her neck, but McKee had been fighting in the Big Green for months by that time and knew the effort would be pointless. The jungle always won. Besides, the newly arrived jarheads were looking to her for an example, and if she began to thrash around, they would, too. And that could be fatal. The plan was to remain perfectly still, let the Hudathans walk into the trap, and take at least one of them alive. A waste of time in McKee’s opinion because the Hudathans were tough as nails and not about to dishonor themselves by spilling their guts to what they thought were lesser beings.
    Her train of thought was interrupted by a rustling sound and the crackle of broken twigs as Second Lieutenant Wilbur Fox plopped down beside her. “Sergeant.”
    â€œSir.”
    â€œSee anything?”
    It was a stupid question even for Fox. Had McKee seen something, she would have told him via the platoon push, opened fire on it, or both. But he was the platoon leader, she was a noncom, and that meant their relationship was defined by a thousand years of military tradition. “No, sir. Not yet.”
    â€œBut you think they’ll come?”
    Admiral Poe’s ships had been forced to flee when a much larger Hudathan fleet dropped out of hyperspace—and there had been a hellacious battle during their absence. Now the swabbies were back, along with a battalion of mostly green marines, Fox being an excellent example. That’s why some of the Legion’s officers and noncoms had been seconded to the Marine Corps to serve as advisors. So in spite of the fact that McKee had been in the Legion for less than a year, she found herself giving advice to an officer. “I think the odds are good, sir,” she said patiently. “Once the ridgeheads realize that Harvey is overdue, they’ll send someone out to look for him.”
    Harvey was the name the marines had given to the Hudathan who lay in the clearing directly in front of them. Harvey had been alive when the Droi found him in one of their pit traps, but not for long. The Droi
hated
the Hudathans and, judging from the number of bullet holes in his body, had used the off-worlder for target practice. “Excellent!” Fox said, as if hearing the news for the first time. “That’s when we’ll bag the bastards.”
    Fox made the process sound like a turkey shoot—and maybe it was in his fantasies. But Fox