Free Drysine Legacy (The Spiral Wars Book 2) by Joel Shepherd Page B

and if you removed your helmet too quickly, it was agony on the ears, and breathing felt like mouthfuls of soup.
    “Just here,” said Romki, indicating past the baths, no doubt reading the Togiri script on the windows. On the right was a restaurant. Peering through the windows, Dale saw a tavalai layout — a smorgasbord of pots, lots of watery-looking things in rows, and big bowl seating where diners would sit in what looked to humans like uncomfortable proximity.
    “It’s empty,” said Dale.
    “It’s the wrong time of day,” said Romki. “Tavalai stick to routines, even on station time.” He went to the door.
    “Wait!” Dale barked. Romki paused. Beyond him, the next cross-alley showed the grand market resuming, bustling crowds and shouting hawkers. Dale peered through the glass once more. Beyond the reed-mat partition, where the chefs would be, he saw nothing. “There’s no one here at all. I don’t like it.”
    “Lieutenant,” Romki said with exasperation, “I can assure you that…”
    “Woody,” Dale interrupted, “check the door.” Forrest went to do that, as Romki rolled his eyes with impatience… and the world went sideways as the restaurant blew up, glass and debris crashing over them, Dale’s ears ringing and lungs full of smoke.
    ‘Up’, he forced himself with effort, as thirty years of combat reflexes imposed themselves and guessed what was coming next. “Up!” he yelled, scrambling dizzily back to his knees and a firing crouch, unable to see a damn thing through the smoke…
    “Contact!” Tong yelled, opening fire on something, and…
    “Down!” yelled Forrest, as return fire came from the market end, red tracer ripping through the smoke.
    Dale threw himself at the hallway’s opposite side, where glass surrounding the bathing house had collapsed, and sheltered behind the end wall. “Get cover!” he yelled, but his section had already done that, none as experienced as him but close enough. Rapid fire hit the wall and he ducked back, hoping one of them had grabbed Romki… and saw half-naked tavalai behind, shocked, crouched and staring, and too close to the line of fire. He gestured hard at them to get back and get down, and was uncertain as he did it that it wasn’t a tavalai shooting at them, and now he had a room full of them at his back.
    Fire redirected, and Dale put his rifle around the corner, sighted, and saw a dark shape advancing, movements flowing but clearly mechanical, heavy weapon swivelling from one marine cover position to another as it came. He put a burst on it, saw it hit but immediately swing his way, and ducked back as more rounds tore at his wall. “Droid!” he shouted. “It’s a fucking droid!”
    In heavy armour he’d have his Koshaim-20, twice the calibre and many times the hitting power of this light P-8. The Koshaim would tear a droid in half with a few shots, he’d even seen them kill hacksaw drones with accurate fire. The P-8, not so much.
    “I got him flanked,” came Reddy’s voice in his earpiece. “Fire in three, two, one, mark.” A hammering burst, Dale waited a moment for the droid to spin, then popped out and fired on full auto. The others joined him, and the droid staggered, lost pieces, then exploded in a fireball that demolished every surviving bit of glass in the hallway.
    More fire cut past, but they were already in cover, and the bullets hit only walls — a second droid. Again Dale waited until someone else fired, then popped out to fire himself, as another marine opened up as soon as the fire came at him. The droid seemed averse to taking cover, and after repeatedly taking fire from whomever its weapon was not pointed at, it turned and ran. Dale ran after it, and cleared the smoke in time to see it racing into the near-deserted market, a long civilian coat flowing out behind. It moved fast, and Dale knew it was pointless to follow.
    “Damn thing’s wearing civvies,” he said, backing up with rifle levelled in case it or a