elected to work from this venue.
The rule was simple: If an enemy wanted something, it was generally best to deny it to them if you could.
She heard the hum of gyroscopic motors in the ATVs before she heard the sounds of human engineers. They were at the stream, only a few minutes ahead of her, but they would have support infantry. Not too many, since the limits on combatants were strict, but at least a squad or two, maybe a platoon.
Kay slowed, moved more cautiously, heading for the first-choice spot she had selected on the recon of the area earlier. There were three good vantage points on her side of the stream, and if she could get the first, she would have the best field of fire.
The enemy had two men in the water swimming when she got to her spot, and those were her first targets.
She unslung her weapon.
The unit had computer-assisted-targeting sniper rifles, the CATs were accurate to a thousand meters, and you had to get in its way to miss a human-sized target as far as they could reach. The computerâs cam could spot, ID, and paint a target with a tiny dot of light, and all one had to do was point in the approximate direction; the inbuilt gyros would hold the weapon rock-steady. It could be programmed so that you didnât even have to trigger it yourselfâit would fire automatically as soon as it was lined up. It would seek the nearest target after that and repeat the process until all the targets were down or it ran empty.
On the other hand, CAT rifles were expensive, heavy, loud, slow, and their tactical choices werenât always correct. Sometimes the target selection was wrongâthe computer didnât differentiate between a man with a gun pointed in your general direction and one dialed onto your heart.
Kay was not the best shooter in the unit, but she was certainly adept enough to use a manual weapon at short range effectively, and she trusted her sense of who to deal with better than she did the computerâs. Always her choice when it came to machines. A gun might misfire, a claw was always there.
Cutter Colonel left it to her, and she had elected to use a lightweight carbine with a suppressor and simple-glass. At 150, it should be more than enough. She had ranged the sights in practice to this distance, it was a dead-on center hold, and the scope was preset for a cold shot at that range.
The first enemy soldier achieved the near bank of the stream, wading onto the shore, as Kay lay prone and lined up. His armor was minimalâit was hard to swim in Class IVâand even with the suppressor, the restricted hardball should punch through a standard trauma plate. He had his helmet off for the crossing, and she knew the round wouldnât be slowed much by his skull.
She lined the crosshairs up right between his eyes and stroked the trigger.
The sonic boom happened some meters in front of her.
The targetâs head blew apart.
Even as he fell, she swung the sights to cover the second swimmer, but he was quick and smart. He submerged, still five meters from the bank, leaving ripples in the slow-moving stream.
Kay adjusted the carbine. She knew which way the water flowed, and she had measured the speed. She reasoned that he wouldnât keep swimming toward her, and swimming against the current would take more energy and oxygen, so it made more sense for him to go downstream. He would want to get as far away as possible before he had to come up for air, then he would expose as little of himself as possible. Were it she, she would roll onto her back as she rose and put no more than her nose above the surface. She would have already exhaled, so all sheâd have to do would be suck in a fast breath and backstroke herself down again, less than a second, and at best, that would be a nearly impossible shot for an expert. Taking off a nose wouldnât be useful in any event.
Shooting at a target underwater at this shallow an angle was a waste of ammunition. The bullet would skip
The rule was simple: If an enemy wanted something, it was generally best to deny it to them if you could.
She heard the hum of gyroscopic motors in the ATVs before she heard the sounds of human engineers. They were at the stream, only a few minutes ahead of her, but they would have support infantry. Not too many, since the limits on combatants were strict, but at least a squad or two, maybe a platoon.
Kay slowed, moved more cautiously, heading for the first-choice spot she had selected on the recon of the area earlier. There were three good vantage points on her side of the stream, and if she could get the first, she would have the best field of fire.
The enemy had two men in the water swimming when she got to her spot, and those were her first targets.
She unslung her weapon.
The unit had computer-assisted-targeting sniper rifles, the CATs were accurate to a thousand meters, and you had to get in its way to miss a human-sized target as far as they could reach. The computerâs cam could spot, ID, and paint a target with a tiny dot of light, and all one had to do was point in the approximate direction; the inbuilt gyros would hold the weapon rock-steady. It could be programmed so that you didnât even have to trigger it yourselfâit would fire automatically as soon as it was lined up. It would seek the nearest target after that and repeat the process until all the targets were down or it ran empty.
On the other hand, CAT rifles were expensive, heavy, loud, slow, and their tactical choices werenât always correct. Sometimes the target selection was wrongâthe computer didnât differentiate between a man with a gun pointed in your general direction and one dialed onto your heart.
Kay was not the best shooter in the unit, but she was certainly adept enough to use a manual weapon at short range effectively, and she trusted her sense of who to deal with better than she did the computerâs. Always her choice when it came to machines. A gun might misfire, a claw was always there.
Cutter Colonel left it to her, and she had elected to use a lightweight carbine with a suppressor and simple-glass. At 150, it should be more than enough. She had ranged the sights in practice to this distance, it was a dead-on center hold, and the scope was preset for a cold shot at that range.
The first enemy soldier achieved the near bank of the stream, wading onto the shore, as Kay lay prone and lined up. His armor was minimalâit was hard to swim in Class IVâand even with the suppressor, the restricted hardball should punch through a standard trauma plate. He had his helmet off for the crossing, and she knew the round wouldnât be slowed much by his skull.
She lined the crosshairs up right between his eyes and stroked the trigger.
The sonic boom happened some meters in front of her.
The targetâs head blew apart.
Even as he fell, she swung the sights to cover the second swimmer, but he was quick and smart. He submerged, still five meters from the bank, leaving ripples in the slow-moving stream.
Kay adjusted the carbine. She knew which way the water flowed, and she had measured the speed. She reasoned that he wouldnât keep swimming toward her, and swimming against the current would take more energy and oxygen, so it made more sense for him to go downstream. He would want to get as far away as possible before he had to come up for air, then he would expose as little of himself as possible. Were it she, she would roll onto her back as she rose and put no more than her nose above the surface. She would have already exhaled, so all sheâd have to do would be suck in a fast breath and backstroke herself down again, less than a second, and at best, that would be a nearly impossible shot for an expert. Taking off a nose wouldnât be useful in any event.
Shooting at a target underwater at this shallow an angle was a waste of ammunition. The bullet would skip
Similar Books
