Legion Of The Damned - 01 - Legion of the Damned by William C. Dietz Page B

insects. No, it was the missiles she feared, and one more should do the job. She wondered where it was. Did the Naa want her to suffer? Or were they running short of ordnance?
    There was movement to the left. She raised a listless arm and fired. A Naa threw up his arms and fell backwards out of sight. Asshole. How much longer could this go on?
    Suddenly O‘Brian was there and Yankolovich too. It was O’Brian who spoke.
    “We’re jerking your module number two ... have a nice rest.”
    Villain tried to nod but found that her head didn’t work. Blue fire burped overhead as Gunner provided covering fire. Villain’s surroundings jerked, swayed, and moved as they pushed her over. The last thing she saw was stones. Each had its own shadow. A bug ran from one to the next.
    Yankolovich flipped a protective cover out of the way, grabbed the red T-shaped handle, and gave it one full turn to the right. Then, using the same handle, he pulled Villain’s biological support module out the back of her massive head. Injectors pumped sedatives into her brain and the world faded to black.
    A massive form materialized next to the bio bods. O’Brian gave mental thanks. Having Rossif there to provide additional cover would make the trip to the quad a lot safer.
    Roller was waiting when O’Brian and Yankolovich returned. They ran full speed, dived, and slid the last few feet. Dirt geysered around them as bullets hit.
    Gunner redirected the gatling gun towards the source of the fire, triggered a long burst, and watched a boulder disintegrate. Once revealed, the Naa lasted a quarter of a second. Fur, flesh, and blood sprayed outwards as the bullets hit.
    Rossif and Jones stalked forward, fired missiles into the rocks, and followed up with machine-gun fire.
    O’Brian pushed the biological support module in Roller’s direction. Except for the T-shaped handle and the six-pronged connector located on one side, the olive-drab case looked like a .50-ammo box. Roller grabbed it and motioned towards the hatch.
    “Get the hell inside! We’re pulling out.”
    O’Brian and Yankolovich dropped into their padded seats and strapped themselves in. Roller entered and the hatch slid closed. Bullets clanged against the quad’s armor.
    Roller dropped into a seat. His helmet was cracked where a piece of shrapnel had hit it. Blood streamed down the side of his face.
    O’Brian’s voice was strained. “Where’s Wismer, Kato, and Imai?”
    Roller wiped his forehead with an arm. “Dead. Along with Wutu.”
    “And the sergeant major?”
    “Dead.”
    “Shit.”
    “Yeah.”
    Roller activated his radio. “All right, Gunner ... get us the hell out of here.”
    Gunner had anticipated the order and rose in one smooth motion. Explosive shells and shoulder-launched missiles sparkled across the surface of his armor. He staggered under the impact, damned the luck that had kept him alive, and followed Rossif out of the kill zone. This was the moment to unleash his massive firepower and the cyborg did so.
    All four of his energy cannons spit coherent light, the gatling gun roared defiance, missiles lashed out in every direction, grenades popped skywards, and smoke poured from heavy-duty generators.
    Hardman recognized what was happening and gave the necessary orders. “The humans are attempting to withdraw. Allow them to leave. It’s impossible to defeat the four-legged cyborg. Enough blood has stained the sand.”
    A few die-hard warriors unleashed their remaining missiles anyway, but they missed, or exploded harmlessly on Gunner’s armor. Minutes later and the humans were gone, with only the wreckage of their cyborgs and a handful of bodies to mark their passage.
    Hardman forced himself up out of his hiding place and out into the open. He searched his emotions for elation, for happiness, and found nothing but pain.
    Dead warriors littered the ground around him. Blood dripped down the side of a rock. A hand lay palm-up as if asking for friendship. A piece of