Free Doom Star: Book 06 - Star Fortress by Vaughn Heppner Page A

onto the butt of his holstered slugthrower. The bullets might not penetrate body-armor, but they would smash though skull-bone. Only cyborgs had armored brainpans.
    “Juba-Ryder has never liked me,” Marten said. “If she thinks I’m a traitor to Social Unity—” Marten scowled. “I’m done being anyone’s prisoner. Get behind me.”
    “Marten—”
    “Let’s not argue,” he said. “Just do as I say.”
    Nadia moved behind him as Marten took a wider stance. He hated fancy maneuvers, so he kept his hand on the butt of his weapon. If Omi was here with him or better yet Osadar—he shook his head. This was his play, and if he did it wrong, it could be the end of him and his wife. He rolled his right shoulder, trying to loosen it for quick-draw firing.
    Juba-Ryder smiled triumphantly as she strode near. Each of the bodyguards had hard features and cold eyes. Their armor clattered. They wore dark helmets, with forehead and cheek protectors. They watched him closely, intently—predatorily.
    It made the hairs on the back of Marten’s neck bristle. These three meant to kill him or to pulverize his flesh with their fists.
    “Marten Kluge,” Director Juba-Ryder said. “I am here to inform you—”
    Marten drew his .38. The three bodyguards had holstered guns, with flaps over the weapons. Despite their size and the bulk of their muscles, they moved with bionic speed. As Marten aimed at Juba-Ryder, the three guards aimed .55 caliber hand-cannons at him.
    “They can blow me away,” Marten said tightly, “but I’ll still riddle your body with bullets.”
    “I am a director,” Juba-Ryder said, outraged. “I have immunity against violence.”
    “Yeah? Then you shouldn’t have made this tactical error. You should have just sent them, not come yourself.”
    Juba-Ryder stiffened. “Lay down your weapon and submit to my authority.”
    “Not a chance,” Marten said.
    “You will die.”
    “Yeah, but so will you.”
    “I can fire at his gun-hand,” one of the bodyguards said. “I will destroy it before he can shoot.”
    Before Juba-Ryder could answer, Nadia gasped.
    “What is it?” Marten asked, refusing to take his eyes off the director.
    “A fighting robot,” Nadia said, “a floating one.”
    “Those are illegal here,” Juba-Ryder said. “Is this your doing?”
    “Right,” Marten said, feeling a sense of helplessness. Three bionic bodyguards and now a fighting robot—he debated killing Juba-Ryder while he still had a chance. He could get off one shot, maybe two, but no more than that. The .55 caliber bullets would knock him flying.
    Juba-Ryder moistened her lips.
    “We can destroy the robot,” one of the bodyguards said.
    “I wouldn’t try,” the robot said.
    Marten saw it now out of the corner of his right eye. The robot floated, probably propelling itself through magnetic lifters, using the city grid. The robot looked like an elongated metal egg the size of a man. If he looked closer, Marten was sure he would make out sealed ports. Those could open for a laser nozzle or the tip of a machine gun barrel. The fighting robots belonged to the Cybernetic Corps, presently under Manteuffel’s control.
    A large upper port opened then, revealing a screen. The face of Security Specialist Cone appeared on the screen. She had a sharp beauty and wore dark sunglasses.
    “What is the meaning of this?” Juba-Ryder demanded.
    “Before I answer,” Cone said onscreen, “I prefer to learn your intentions.”
    “They are simple,” Juba-Ryder said with an imperious gesture. “I am here to arrest Marten Kluge. As you can see, he is resisting arrest. I demand that you assist me with that machine of yours.”
    “I would be glad to assist,” Cone said. “However, he is the Jovian Representative and has diplomatic immunity.”
    “He was born under Social Unity and thus remains subject to our laws and customs,” Juba-Ryder said. “Just as important, he is a traitor to the People.”
    “Possibly true,”