Free Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4) by Peter Grant Page B

left side of the depot gates. They were separated by a transporter-width lane between the depot’s outer wall and the newly-erected row of hollow woven barriers. Two of the Qianjin spacers were filling the barrier bags with dirt dug from about a hundred meters beyond the wall, where untamed bush began. They grinned at him as they maneuvered excavator and front-end loader back and forth. He waved at them, then looked up at the Administration building just inside the wall. Senior Lieutenant Maxwell was standing on its roof, watching the activity outside. He lifted his hand as he noticed the Gunny looking at him, and Kinnear responded in kind.
    “We sure got lucky with that one,” he murmured to himself. “With smarts like his, he shoulda been a Marine. He’s wasted on the Spacer Corps.”
    He was jerked out of his train of thought by a shout of alarm from the Marine controlling incoming traffic. Following his pointing arm Kinnear saw half-a-dozen armed men, dressed in a motley mixture of military fatigues and civilian clothing, running from the bushes towards the transporters. The leader pointed his rifle menacingly at the nearest Marine and yelled, “Stay outta this! We ain’t fighting you Marines – just Eskishi! If ya don’t interfere, ya won’t get hurt!”
    Kinnear spun on his heel, opening his mouth to bellow a warning – just in time to see his boss take a flying leap off the roof.
    ~ ~ ~
    Steve braced himself as he dropped ten meters from the roof to the ground. He mentally blessed his martial arts training as he rolled to break his fall, wincing at a sudden sharp pain in his left leg. He bounced to his feet, found he could still stand and move, and ignored the pulled muscle as he sprinted for the gatehouse. There were no sentries on duty – he didn’t have enough military personnel for that, and with the guaranteed, demonstrated cooperation of the Dragon Tong prisoners even the Gunny hadn’t considered them necessary – but he’d seen too much combat to take unnecessary chances. He’d ordered half a dozen rifles racked in the gatehouse, ready for use.
    He burst through the door. Rather than take time to fumble with its lock, he launched a roundhouse kick that smashed the wooden bar across the front of the makeshift rifle stand, where it blocked the weapons’ pistol grips and prevented their withdrawal. He seized two rifles, glanced swiftly at their ammunition chargers and power packs and cycled their actions to chamber a round, then spun on his heel, racing back through the door and out of the gates.
    He saw in a single flashing glance that the armed men had almost reached the two waiting transporters. “Here, Sir!” Kinnear called as he ran towards him. Steve tossed him a rifle, then brought his own weapon to his shoulder. Shouts came from the intruders as they saw him, but by then he was already acquiring a flash sight picture on the man who’d shouted at the Gunnery Sergeant. By taking the initiative, he’d identified himself as the probable leader of the group. Steve steadied himself and squeezed the trigger button.
    The rifle’s electromagnetic mechanism discharged a flash of power through the coils of the firing rail, accelerating a metal bead to hypersonic speed. It left the muzzle with a loud crack! as it broke the sound barrier. The insurgent was still raising his own rifle when the bead struck his chest. He grimaced in sudden agony as he jerked, then toppled forward, releasing his weapon as he fell.
    The other five insurgents froze for an instant as they saw their leader fall, and that gave Kinnear time to get into action. His rifle cracked a split-second ahead of Steve’s next shot. They’d both selected the same insurgent as their target, his weapon already shouldered and ready to cut loose on them. The two beads spun him around and dropped him lifeless over the legs of his erstwhile boss. The four survivors scattered, opening fire to cover their movements as they dived for