Flight by J.A. Huss Read Free Book Online Page B

waiting room. Isten takes a seat and lights up a cigarette as he stretches his legs and focuses on the screen showing sports. The thin guy takes me by the arm and pulls me to another door, then whisks me through into what looks more like a tailor's dressing room than a military outfitter.
    A team of people come out and begin to measure me. They lift my arms straight up towards the ceiling and tell me not to move. Then another team spreads my legs a little and begins the lower body measurements. When they've finished another man begins on my wings. It tickles like fuck, but I try to stand still.
    None of them are very personable and my mood is going sour fast. When the wingman touches my girls for like the hundredth time I smack him in the jaw. "Don't do it again or you'll be sorry."
    He huffs at me and disappears.
    The tall thin man returns. "Is there a problem?"
    I smile sweetly. "Yes, there is. If you want to feel me up then the least you can do is be personable and polite while you're fucking doing it. If you people want to walk around me like I'm nonexistent and act like you can touch me wherever you–"
    "Junco."
    I turn to Isten. "What?"
    He walks over to the suit guy and asks in Avian if I'm done with armor fitting. I just scowl as they converse like I'm not even here. Then Isten and the tall man walk me back to another part of the shop so they can let me shoot some guns. I smile as I walk up to the practice lane and inspect the line of weapons they have laid out.
    One set is from Earth. "Hey, are these my sniper rifles?"
    Isten pulls himself from the guy and walks over. "Yeah, Rikan and I stole all your shit, remember?"
    I breathe out and answer in a whisper. "You never said you took the guns ."
    This makes me so happy I can't even think straight. My rifles are special. I mean, I've used these weapons for years now, the same ones have been fitted and refitted several dozen times since I started sniper training. I know every fraction of them, how they shoot cold bore, how to set the manual scope so it reads right the first time, how to keep the one-shot scope from false set, their little quirks and idiosyncrasies, and exactly what it feels like when I'm out of shots and they need to be fitted again.
    I pick up the short-range MXSP and take her apart, check every single piece, then reassemble and put her back in line. I move onto the RM Tactical Bolt, which only has a manual scope and is only a little more accurate than the MXSP at short distances, but can shoot about twice as far – about 2500-2750 yards – and be dead on. I sight it down the lane, measure some shit with the mil-dots and do the calculations in my head real fast just for practice, then take her apart, check and reassemble.
    The one I call Big Boy is next. The RM Elite is my best performance rifle and is accurate out to 5000 yards. I have never personally made a 5000-yard shot, but it does well at 4000, which is my average. I've exploded more heads with Big Boy than any of the others. I feel myself sigh as I lift the gun and look through the one-shot scope down to the targets.
    "What kind of Coriolis Effect you guys got here?" I ask Isten without turning around or taking my eye off the target.
    He steps up. "Too big to really use these accurately at long distances, Juncs. Sorry. We spin a lot faster than Earth."
    "Doesn't matter. We'll be on Earth soon enough, and then I'll be just fine."
    I don't even mess with the 50 caliber, that monster is way too big to fire in here anyway.
    Isten takes it from me. "We had to refit that, Junco, so you'll have to adjust it, make sure the muzzle brake is the way it's supposed to be. Sorry, I don't use one of those on my rifles. But," he stops and looks me up and down, "you probably need it, right?"
    "Only if you want me to hit shit with it, Isten," I say, looking up at him. "I weigh a hundred and twenty with wet wings on a good day and I haven't had a lot of good days lately, so – yeah, I need the muzzle brake."
    I