ATLAS 2 (ATLAS Series Book 2) by Isaac Hooke Read Free Book Online

you son of a bitch, answer me!”
    Finally he stirred. His vitals brightened. “Just got the wind knocked out of me is all.”
    “Where are you hit?”
    He lethargically resumed his position behind the lower banisters. “The shoulder. Suit absorbed half the impact. I’ll live.”
    “Shoulder wounds seem to be popular today.” Better than head wounds.
    I made a quick mental evaluation of the situation. I could still hear gunfire coming from the foyer, and I doubted help was coming from that side of the palace any time soon. Facehopper was relying on us to reach the main targets on the balcony by ourselves, if we could.
    I wasn’t about to let him down.
    I examined the map of the second floor. I thought I saw a way to outflank the upstairs attackers. “Tahoe, can you cover me again?”
    “Yeah.” He sounded winded.
    I instinctively glanced at his vitals again. Hadn’t changed.
    “Then do it. I’m going to make a break for the rear entrance.”
    He glanced at me from across the room. I thought he was going to ask me why I was going back again, but then he obediently laid down suppressive fire with his heavy machine gun.
    He trusted me to the core.
    I dove through the doorway into the adjacent room. I landed, rolled to my feet, and took cover beside the doorway. I made a quick scan of the room with my rifle, even though I’d already marked it as clear (MOTHs were cautious like that), and then I hurried to the rear door.
    Outside, the pool area seemed quiet.
    “How’s it look, Ghost?” I sent, wanting to be sure.
    “Not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse,” Ghost replied from where we’d left him on overwatch. There was no hint of pain in his voice. He was carrying on his duties to his brothers despite his wound. Like any of us would.
    I could still hear the roar of Tahoe’s heavy machine gun behind me. “Tahoe, bro, let them return fire for a minute.”
    The heavy gun cut out.
    I waited until I heard the sound of small arms fire from the next room, then I vaulted outside, spun around, and activated my jetpack. I landed on the ledge just beside the upstairs window.
    Grasping one of the eaves above me for balance, I carefully peered around the window frame.
    It looked like I’d interpreted the map properly: this was the same window I thought it was. Beyond, I could see the assailants. They were privateer sentries, dressed in black jumpsuits. Two alive; one dead and bleeding out on the floor, thanks to Tahoe. The unguarded backs of the living two were exposed as they aimed down at Tahoe’s position through the banisters.
    Amateurs.
    I was glad to catch a break here. If those buffoons had been combat robots, they wouldn’t have made the mistake of leaving their rear unguarded.
    Now I just had to figure out how to get a shot off through the bulletproof glass. The three bullet holes from Trace’s earlier shots marred the center of the glass. I couldn’t just ram the barrel of my rifle into the holes and fire, because there wasn’t enough room to aim from the ledge. Nor could I create new holes from here, for the same reason.
    But if I leaped backward, out into the empty air, and initiated a continuous burst from my jetpack . . .
    I programmed the desired trajectory into my jetpack, using the position of the two privateers in relation to the window, and directed the autopilot to fire the appropriate nozzles to put me in position half a meter up and two meters away from the ledge and hold me there for three seconds. It would take me about two seconds to aim and fire at each target. If I missed, the privateers would likely reposition, and possibly snipe me before I landed.
    I’d just have to make sure I didn’t miss. Hopefully the artifacts in the glass from Trace’s bulletholes wouldn’t interfere with my aim.
    Since this was going to be a relatively close shot, I made a mental note to use the iron sights built into the barrel, which would be visible through the translucent scope mounts.
    I took