Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) by Jeffrey Burger Page B

carbine as it hammered eye-searing streaks downrange.
    “ Got it!” The carbine disappeared and Steele could see the ceiling of the tube again. Heart pounding, hands numb, brain buzzing, his focus gradually started to widen. He safetied the 1911 and let it drop to his lap, still locked in the vice-grip that was his hand.
    A helmeted face appeared above him, “You hit Captain?” Lifted by his armored vest to his feet, he found himself surrounded by the Marines. “Damn, that was some mighty fine shooting Captain; I didn't know that thing was full auto...”
    Steele glanced down at it briefly before holstering it, “It's not... why?”
    Two Marines were leaning over examining the thing lying on its back across the center divider of the air-car troughs, it's arms and legs stretched outwards, sparking, twitching. “Well you hit it five times... stitched it from crotch to forehead...”
    The tunnel vision had cleared and Jack's senses were returning as he moved over to the group, taking a deep breath, “What the hell is it...?”
    “ Looks like a mining or maintenance droid...” the Sergeant stuck his gloved fingertip in one of the holes made by the .45 caliber charged particle slug. “Boy, you did a real number on him with that thing...”
    “ What was he shooting at us with? I don't see any weapon...” Steele looked around with his wrist and helmet lights on.
    “ This,” the Sergeant tapped on the small mechanical turret protruding from an open panel at the top of the android's right shoulder, “it's a cutting and welding laser... would'a sliced you right in half if he hit you with it,” he swept his hand through the air sideways for emphasis. “It's not designed for range, but inside 25 feet, being behind a bulkhead is the only thing that'll save you.”
    “ Damn thing is red; no wonder I couldn't see it in this light...” Steele waved them up the tunnel, “Let's go...” He was reasonably sure the red lighting and the red android were all part of a bizarre, diabolical scheme cooked up by the ship. He was really beginning to hate this ship. But where did the droid come from? More importantly, were there more of them, and where could they be hiding? There were other decks below the bridge that they'd passed without checking... He tried calling the Lieutenant on the bridge and the shuttle with no results, and that was worrisome... almost terrifying if he let his mind dwell on it, expanding on it, playing with it... it was hard to stop it once it started. Without realizing it, he'd drawn his sidearm again; the weight of the 1911 in his hand gave him something else to focus on.
    Making their way through the dusky red darkness, floating dust, shifting and darting shadows, the ship's bizarre sounds playing with their minds, they passed the last two turrets, both of which were inexplicably inoperable. Steele took it upon himself to shoot them both anyway, either because he didn't trust them or because it made him feel a little better for it – getting even with the ship for its cruel plans... he wasn't sure which, maybe it was a little of both. The trek had taken about half the time as it did the first time, but it seemed twice as long. They climbed up onto the air-car platform, glad to have reached the forward section of the ship. As close as they were to the bridge, there was still no communications with anyone other than their team, so caution was critical. They advanced, stacked tactically, down the sloping corridor. As they neared the bottom of the ramp, the section doors slid open automatically, the turret on the ceiling near the center hallway junction swiveling in their direction. “Turret!” The point Marine on the right side wall of the corridor was ready, a short full-auto burst blowing the unit cleanly off its base, parts scattering across the floor. A figure rounded the corner towards them from the center corridor, so smoothly, so human-like it gave them pause... but only for a split-second. The