Free The IX by Andrew P Weston

the milling crowd below. In seconds, they were joined by the traitors from the second company. People from both sides fell.
    The eye of the storm appeared directly above them. Lex could feel the unadulterated power of its potential coalescing in the air. A lull in battle manifested, and all heads turned to look upward. Lex spotted the captain. Raising his gun, he fought to steady his shaking hand and took aim.
    Houston saw him. Dropping to one knee, he raised his rifle and fired at the same moment Lex squeezed the trigger.
    Unbearable pain filled Lex’s world, and he was lifted into chaos.

CHAPTER SIX
    Take No Prisoners
    Mac paused behind a wire mesh screen and surveyed the scene. A single corridor nearly fifty yards long stretched away before him. The only source of illumination came from a series of flashing red security strobes, evenly spaced along the center of the ceiling. Because of the lockdown, they only served to increase the claustrophobic atmosphere and created a stark contrast between areas of clarity and shadow. Although the passage was lined with doors on either side, Mac’s interest lay in those situated exactly halfway along. The ones with a double set of paired sentries outside to be exact, as they marked the entrance to the dining room and recreation center. His head-mounted active-cam recorded everything he saw, and relayed it onto the HUDs of his squad, waiting patiently in the darkness at the back of the switch room.
    Sam Pell was busy preparing the fiber optic web that would give them a thermal and holographic image of what was taking place inside the mess hall. While he set up, Mac continued to watch the intruders. Doing so always revealed little indicators or patterns of behavior that could be exploited to help achieve their own mission objectives. And as professional as these terrorists were, they were only human. They were expecting an aggressive response from the government, but they didn’t know what form it would take, or when. The structure shuddered. Unexpectedly foul weather was testing the integrity of the rig’s state of the art stabilizing system, and from the strength of the vibrations thrumming through the walls, it felt as if they were being stretched to maximum. Mac could see their targets becoming increasingly anxious the longer things played out. Perhaps this flash storm will work in our favor after all?
    Two of the guards were part of a roving patrol from the deck above, the operations level. They had just arrived via an open metal stairwell positioned on the far side of the passage, directly opposite the common room doors. This was their second visit in ten minutes. Although Mac was sure the constant checks might be part of the terrorists’ adopted security procedure, he could see the men were using the opportunity to encourage each other.
    Yup! Repeated glances up and down the corridor. Needless fiddling with their night vision optics. Incessant chatter, face to face, instead of radio checks. They’ve managed to lock this place down tight, but they don’t like waiting for something to happen.
    He smiled. Don’t worry, chaps. We’ll be helping you out there shortly.
    Mac knew that at least half a dozen managers had been frogmarched to the higher level after the rig was taken. Most likely to ensure any unexpected hitches can be addressed quickly, should our friends encounter anything . . . unusual . Right, let’s get this show on the road.
    Speaking quietly into his microphone, Mac addressed his Tec specialist. “Sam? How long before you’re ready?”
    “About a minute, Boss. The system is integrated and running through its final diagnostic. We should have an update of what’s going on inside the mess hall soon.”
    “Roger that.” Changing his focus, Mac called his second-in-command, Mark Stevens. He should have managed to work his way through the upper modules of the platform by now. Using call signs, he said, “Bravo-one, this is Alpha-one, do you