Society girl Cat Carletto enjoys a whirlwind life of parties
and glamour. Then the emperor is murdered by his sister, and
everyone who supported him becomes a target. Wounded, alone,
and afraid for her life, she enlists in the Foreign Legion.
Now calling herself Andromeda McKee, she throws herself into
combat training with one mission in mind -- to take down
Empress Ophelia, the woman who killed her family and changed
her life forever.
I haven't read a lot of military fiction, and I wasn't at
all familiar with author William C. Dietz's work, so I was a
little nervous when I started reading ANDROMEDA'S FALL. I
shouldn't have been. Dietz helpfully explains military
acronyms and slang, the political situation, and everything
else you need to understand as the story goes along.
The novel follows Andromeda as she goes through basic
training, is assigned to a cavalry squadron working with
cybernetic soldiers, and goes into combat for the first
time. She's always on guard for the Imperial trackers who
are looking for Cat Carletto. Through it all, she finds
purpose and strength, demonstrates leadership and
compassion, and even begins to fall in love.
I recommend ANDROMEDA'S FALL for readers who enjoy military
fiction, science fiction, action, and strong female characters.
The roots of the Legion of the Damned lie deep within the
mythology of the future. But now, national bestselling
author William C. Dietz goes back to the Legion’s early days
with the story of one recruit’s rebirth and redemption…
Hundreds of years in the future, much has changed. Advances
in medicine, technology, and science abound. Humanity has
gone to the stars, found alien life, and established an
empire.
But some things never change...
All her life, Lady Catherine Carletto (called Cat) has lived
for nothing but the next party, the next lover, the next
expensive toy. Until, in a bloodthirsty power grab, Imperial
Princess Ophelia and her cadre of synth assassins murder her
brother the emperor, and go on to purge the galaxy of his
friends and supporters—including Cat’s family. The Carlettos
are known to be staunch supporters of the Emperor and
Carletto Industries has been in the forefront of his pet
project—developing cybernetic technology for use by the
masses.
Now Cat, one of the last surviving Carlettos, is on the run.
And, like countless others before her, she finds her
sanctuary among the most dangerous of society’s misfits.
Welcome to the Legion.
Cat Carletto vanishes, and in her place stands Legion
recruit Andromeda McKee. A woman with a mission—to bring
down Empress Ophelia—or die trying.
Excerpt
The Imperial planet Esparto
Lady Catherine Carletto snapped her lipstick closed and
studied herself in the oval–shaped mirror. She had
shoulder–length blond hair, wide–set blue eyes,
and a softly rounded face. Everyone agreed that she was
beautiful. And that was true. In the technical sense,
anyway. The problem was that she didn't feel beautiful. Or
anything else for that matter. No ambition. No fear. No
joy. And that didn't make sense since she had everything.
Or that's what the vidnets claimed. Cat made a face at
herself, dropped the lipstick into a tiny clutch, and
turned to go. The door to her hotel suite hurried to slide
out of the way, and the private elevator surged upwards the
moment she stepped on board.
There was a small but tastefully furnished lobby on the
roof—and two of the hotel's employees were there to
wish Cat a good evening as she passed through. Less
fortunate people were constantly wishing her "good
morning," "good afternoon," and "good evening." But very
few, if any, meant it. And why would they? Everything was
for sale—including the most trivial of greetings. So
Cat ignored them, followed a green runner out to a waiting
air car, and slid into the backseat A chime sounded as she
buckled the seat belt.
Moments later, the limo was in the air and entering the
flow of southbound traffic. Esparto was an
Earth–normal planet known for its vast grasslands,
rich deposits of rare earth minerals, and the glittering
city spread out below her. The only city on Esparto.
There were townships of course. But laws laid down by
the first families limited them to populations of no more
than ten thousand people each. The idea was to contain
urban sprawl and encourage decentralization. But the
unintended consequence of that policy had been to create a
city that occupied more than five thousand square miles of
land and had a reputation for both sophistication and
decadence. That was the main reason why young men and women
fortunate enough to be sent on the so–called grand
tour wanted to visit Elysium. And Cat was no exception.
Thanks to her family's relationship with Emperor
Ordanus, and their considerable wealth, Cat was a
much–sought–after guest. It was a role she both
enjoyed and despised. Because although she loved the
attention, Cat knew it was undeserved and felt a sense of
contempt for both herself and the people who fawned over
her.
So the socialite took in the view as the car followed a
stream of other aircraft south over brightly lit buildings
and toward the glowing globe perched atop the
one–hundred–story–tall Imperial Tower. If
one looked closely, it was possible to see that the
familiar outlines of Earth's seven continents had been
etched into the opaque structure. The skyscraper had been
built by Emperor Alfred II to house the planetary
government and to remind the local citizens of where the
real power was.
Hundreds of people had been invited to the governor's
ball, so as the limo circled the tower, and the pilot
waited for a clearance to land, Cat had an opportunity to
eye the sprawling city below. Elysium's streets were laid
out grid–style. But there were so many of them that
Cat wondered if anyone could come to know such a huge
metroplex.
Rivers of glowing headlights flowed along the main
arterials. Commercials, many of which circled entire
buildings, flowed snakelike from one section of the city to
the next. And blimps that looked like internally lit
jellyfish drifted across the night sky, all competing for
eyeballs and mindshare. It was both beautiful and horrible.
Or that's the way it seemed to Cat as the air car came in
for a landing.
At least two dozen landing pads were located in the area
just below the gigantic globe. And while vidnet reporters
weren't allowed on that level, their airborne cameras were.
The machines jockeyed for position as Cat stepped out of
the limo. She smiled as the lights hit and paused to turn a
full circle so all the fashionistas could appreciate her
ten–thousand–credit evening gown. It was red,
with slits up both sides, and glittered under the lights.
Then Cat took the arm of the brightly uniformed militia
officer who was waiting to escort her inside. He was a
lieutenant, about her age, and clearly enthralled. His
carefully memorized words of introduction were lost in the
roar of repellers as Cat's limo took off. But it wasn't
important since the officer was little more than an
accessory and indistinguishable from all the rest of his
kind.
Together, they entered a lobby, where Cat was welcomed
by some functionary or other, guided onto an elevator, and
taken down to the fifth–floor ballroom. It consisted
of a huge room decorated in the early Imperial style.
Heroic 3–D murals covered all four walls and morphed
into fresh perspectives every three minutes.
Hundreds of less important individuals were already
present, and most turned to stare as her name was
announced, and cameras swarmed around her. Then it was time
to greet the governor and her husband. Both wore perpetual
smiles, claimed to know her parents, and were clearly wary.
And for good reason. Though nothing in and of herself, Cat
could do them harm by dropping a few carelessly chosen
words to the cameras.
After exchanging pleasantries with them, Cat allowed
herself to be steered over to a reception line, where a
line of lesser functionaries were waiting to greet her. It
wasn't long before their faces became a blur, their names
merged into a meaningless drone, and she was grateful when
the last sweaty hand had been shaken.
That was the point when things took a turn for the
better as a group of chattering young people closed in
around her. She knew many of them and was barely aware of
the manner in which the disappointed lieutenant was
shouldered aside by a fop decked out in a vid suit.
Pictures of Cat and her friends roamed his body, and
everyone laughed as the likeness of a girl with spiky pink
hair slid down into his crotch.
During the next hour, Cat gossiped with her friends,
took a moment to flirt with a moody sim actor, and consumed
three cocktails. She was about to visit the buffet when a
formally dressed hostess appeared at her side. "Lady
Catherine? My name is Stevens. A man is here to see you. We
told him you were busy, but he claims to have an urgent
message from your uncle."
Cat frowned. "My uncle? You're sure?"
Stevens had closely set eyes and thin lips. "That's what
he claims," she said noncommittally. "But I have no way to
be sure."
Since departing Earth two months earlier, Cat's parents
had sent her messages every couple of days. Each of which
had to be recorded on a chip, loaded onto a message torp,
and sent through hyperspace the same way a full–sized
ship would be. A very expensive process indeed. And since
most of the holos were admonishments to take care of
herself, or queries regarding some of her more notorious
exploits, Cat had a tendency to let a few days pass before
sending a reply. Or, in some cases, she ignored the
missives altogether.
But Uncle Rex never sent messages. And being the
official black sheep of the family, he was in no position
to complain about public intoxication, partial nudity, or
the provocative statements Cat made to the press. Was a
member of the family sick or something? So, fueled by both
curiosity and a rising sense of concern, Cat agreed. "Okay.
Where is this guy?"
"He's in the kitchen," the hostess explained. "We
couldn't bring him into the ballroom because . . . Well,
you'll see."
Cat followed Stevens through a pair of swinging doors
and caught a glimpse of a busy kitchen before being led
into an office labeled "Food Service." The man's head was
bare, his cheeks were covered with at least two days' worth
of stubble, and his clothes were filthy. And because his
torso was resting on an argrav platform that floated just
inches off the floor, he had to look up at her. "Good
evening, miss. You look just like the pictures I seen."
Cat glanced over her shoulder, saw that Stevens had
withdrawn, and wished she hadn't. A mistake had been made,
and she'd been left with a vagrant. All she could do was
play the farce through. "You have a message for me?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied respectfully. "My name's Toshy.
Sergeant Toshy back before I lost my sticks in the battle
of Ripper's Ridge. But Major Rex don't forget. The money
comes every year. Right on the anniversary of the day I
saved his life. It helps me and the missus to get through.
So I owes him just like he owes me."
Looking down at the ex–soldier made Cat feel
uncomfortable so she sat on a chair. The socialite hadn't
heard of Toshy, but Uncle Rex had told her stories about
his career in the Legion, and the battle of Ripper's Ridge.
A hellish assault that left half of his battalion dead. So
there was reason to hear Toshy out. "When my uncle retired,
he was a colonel."
"Really?" Toshy inquired. "I didn't know that. Well,
good on him. He was a fine officer."
"You have a message for me," Cat said flatly.
"Right you are," Toshy said, as he fished a chip out of
his pocket. "It came yesterday. And there was a note. ‘Get
this to Lady Catherine Carletto,' it said. And don't tell
nobody."
Cat frowned. Rather than send the chip to her hotel,
Uncle Rex had chosen to entrust it to Toshy. And cautioned
him to keep it secret. Why?
"Thank you," Cat said as she accepted the chip. "It was
very kind of you to come and find me."
"I saw you on the news," Toshy said proudly. "They said
you'd be here."
"I'd like to give you something for your trouble," Cat
said, and opened her purse.
"No thank you," Toshy said stiffly. "The chance to help
Colonel Rex is payment enough. Give him my best."
And with that, the ex–legionnaire used two blocks
of wood to propel himself toward the open door. Moments
later, Toshy was gone. He was, Cat knew, one of thousands
of badly wounded veterans who had been handed a severance
check and put on the street. In all likelihood, Toshy had
been issued a pair of bionic legs, but lacking the means to
maintain the prosthetics, had sold them to pay the rent or
gambled them away. Of course, that was his fault, or so
many people maintained, her uncle being a notable exception.
Cat stood, took a quick look around, and spotted a holo
deck. Having closed the door into the hallway she went over
to the player, slipped the chip into the slot, and touched
a button. A cloud of confetti–like motes of light
appeared, were attracted to each other, and combined to
form a three–dimensional image.
The lighting was poor, as if her uncle had been forced
to make the recording in a dark room, and there was a
momentary buzzing sound as his face disintegrated and came
back together again. "Cat . . . It's me, Uncle Rex. I'm
sorry, honey, but I have some very bad news for you. The
emperor committed suicide. That's what the vidnets say, but
I don't believe it. First, because Alfred was anything but
suicidal, and second, because hundreds of his close friends
and supporters have been killed during the last week."
At that point Cat felt a sudden emptiness at the pit of
her stomach. Because her parents fell into both categories.
Friends and supporters.
"They were killed in air crashes, diving accidents, and
house fires. And that's what supposedly happened to your
parents Cat . . . Except I was there. And before the house
caught fire, a military transport lowered at least two
dozen synths into the estate. And they killed everyone.
Servants and family alike.
"So it's clear that Princess O was behind it. Except
that she's the empress now, and judging from the way
Alfred's associates continue to drop left and right, she's
determined to purge anyone who might stand in her way. And
that includes relatives who might want revenge. You and I
are bound to be on that list, pumpkin. So listen carefully.
Drop out. Hide as best you can. And don't use your credit
cards or try to contact any of the people you know. Because
if you do, they will find you."
There was a noise in the background at that point and,
as Rex turned to look over his shoulder, Cat saw the gun in
his hand. When he looked back there was concern in his
eyes. "I'm sorry, Cat. So very sorry. Find a hole to hide
in honey . . . And don't ever come out." The image broke
into pieces at that point. They were sucked inwards and
disappeared.
There was so much to absorb, so much to accept, that Cat
was numb. Then, as the full weight of her uncle's words
began to sink in, she started to cry. Deep sobs racked her
body, and her stomach hurt as she rocked back and forth.
Her mother. Her father. Both dead. It seemed impossible.
Yet there it was, and having seen the look on her uncle's
face, she knew it was true.
The crying lasted for a good five minutes; tears were
still running down her cheeks when someone knocked on the
door. It was Stevens. "Lady Catherine? Are you okay?"
Cat wasn't okay. But she couldn't say that. So she
said, "Yes, I'll be right there," as she plucked tissues
out of a box. Then, having wiped the tears away, she
removed the chip from the player and stuck it into her bra.
The door whirred out of the way, and judging from the
expression on the other woman's face, she knew something
was wrong. Together, they walked back through the kitchen
and out into the ballroom. And that was when Cat saw the
synths. There were at least six of the Carletto Industry
ALF–46s (Artificial Life Form model 46s.) They
crisscrossed the floor, pausing occasionally to stare at
particular individuals, while the pale–faced governor
was forced to look on. The room, which had been so noisy
before, was eerily silent.
Cat stopped, and was trying to decide what to do when a
robot spotted her. The machine fired a pistol and a bullet
ripped through Stevens' throat. There was a look of
surprise on her face as she crumpled to the floor. Life as
Cat knew it was over.
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