ATLAS 2 (ATLAS Series Book 2) by Hooke Isaac

Author:Hooke, Isaac [Hooke, Isaac]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2014-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Rade

The MOTH Delivery Vehicle rendezvoused with the SK shuttle about twenty klicks northeast of the city, and together the two vessels approached the distant skyscrapers. We were two platoons from disparate space-faring nations of Earth. Nations ofttimes enemies, brought together by a common threat.

This should prove interesting.

The drop had been easy this time, compared to the first. The Gerald R. Ford had been well out of range of the point defense of the Skull Ship, and we faced no opposition from any other vessels, thanks in part to the valiant captains and crews who had refused to allow their starships to be taken, choosing to detonate their reactor cores over capture. Heroes. All of them.

The drop vehicles hugged the surface of the moon on approach, because Shangde City was defended by possessed ATLAS mechs and automated air defense weapons. The SK convoy that had breached the city during Operation Crimson Pipeline had managed to cripple the air defenses along the northeasternmost extremities, and it was from that vector we approached.

Clamped in against the bulkheads of the delivery vehicle, the members of Alfa platoon sat opposite and facing one another.

“I don’t trust them,” Hijak said. The MOTH formerly known as Dyson was seated beside me. I decided to start referring to him by his callsign in my head, otherwise a world of confusion awaited me. Tahoe was the only one I continued to call by his real name. He’d gone through MOTH training with me, and he deserved that honor.

Hijak was staring opposite him at the portal above Bender’s head. I followed his gaze, and saw the SK shuttle outside, which shadowed our movements some distance starboard.

“None of us trust them,” Facehopper said. “But we have a job to do. And we’re going to do it.”

“For once I have to agree with Hijak,” Lui said. “I don’t like this. It stinks of subterfuge. The SKs are going to betray us the first chance they get.”

Skullcracker flashed a big grin, and the skull tattooed into his face matched the fierce smile. “If they betray us, I’ll be introducing the SK platoon to a little friend of mine.” He patted the barrel of his heavy gun.

“I like my friend better,” Fret said, shifting the Carl Gustav on his shoulder.

Ghost chuckled. “True artists don’t rely on recoilless rifles or heavy guns. That’s like throwing a bucket of paint on a blank canvas. Sure, sometimes you’ll create something half-resembling art, but for the most part, all you’ll get is a mess of collateral damage.” The albino warrior hefted his sniper rifle. “Now this, on the other hand, is the round brush of the true artist. With it, I can paint the battle space with utmost precision and care, taking out a target five klicks away without harming a hair on the civilians beside him.”

Fret smirked. “What about the civilian standing behind the target who gets battered by the somersaulting body?”

“Never happen,” Trace interceded. “Nine times out of ten, anyone lounging near a target is a target themselves.

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