ATLAS 2 (ATLAS Series Book 2) (47 page)

But first I wanted to clear up some things regarding the offense and defense capabilities of the mechs. “These ATLAS 6s have built-in ballistic shielding around the cockpit area. But what about the fuel canisters?”

“Those are shielded, too,” Lana volunteered.

“And the visual sensors?”

“Those we can take out,” Lana sent. “Assuming the target doesn’t block our shots with its shield arm.”

“ATLAS 6s have shields?” I cycled through the weapons in my left arm to confirm. Yep. Half-length body shields. When I had faced an ATLAS 6 on the battlefield before, it hadn’t used a shield. “Seems a bit extraneous. But I guess it can only add to the defensive capabilities. So what this all tells me is that our Gatlings are basically useless.”

“Not true,” Hijak sent. “A Gatling will still get through the cockpit eventually. Just takes a little longer.”

“Yeah, assuming we can convince the target to let us shoot it in the same spot for fifteen seconds. I think we’re going to have to rely on serpents more than anything else. Too bad a planetary ring belt isn’t the most conducive environment for that. We’ll have to wait until the targets are close before launching, otherwise we risk premature detonation.”

“How close are we talking?” Lana said.

“I would say at least ten to twenty meters.”

“What about the energy axes these ATLAS 6s have?” Hijak said.

I’d forgotten about that.

I rotated through the weapons of my right hand.

Incendiary thrower.

Gatling gun.

Serpent launcher.

Ax mount.

“Weapon in hand,” I told Hopper’s AI.

As soon as the ax locked into place, I felt a jolt run through my right arm, and blue bolts of energy sparked up and down the surface of the weapon. The blade was three times as tall as a human body. Rediscovered wootz steel, with sheets of microcarbides within a tempered pearlite matrix, afforded one of the hardest substances known to man. I zoomed in and observed that distinctive banding pattern reminiscent of flowing water caused by the graphene molecules interlaced throughout the metal.

I examined the shield, which was still mounted to my left hand. Like I’d told Lana, it seemed kind of extraneous to me. When I zoomed in, I saw the same wootz banding pattern. Maybe not so extraneous . . .

“These shields are designed to defend against the axes?” I said.

“Exactly right,” Lana responded. “While the ballistic shielding around the cockpit is for, appropriately, ballistics, an energy ax will penetrate ballistic shielding relatively easily, especially with the strength of an ATLAS 6 behind the blow. But place the wootz shield between the hull and the ax, and you buy yourself a bit of time.”

“All right. Thank you.” I scanned the immediate area, looking for rocks that would suit the purpose I had in mind. “This is what we’re going to do.”

After I finished explaining the plan, I jetted behind the boulder I’d picked out. It was about three times as big as my mech.

Why did I need a rock roughly three times as big as Hopper?

Space consists of a hard vacuum of low-density particles, mostly hydrogen and helium, with an average background temperature of 2.7 Kelvin. It’s a cold, dark, empty place.

The atomic generator found at the heart of a mech produces roughly four watts of waste heat for every watt of electricity. That heat has to be shed, which is done via the radiators placed beneath the heat vents on the top and bottom of the liquid-cooled reactor. Those radiators dispose of around thirty-five gigajoules of waste heat every sixty seconds.

Add in the waste heat generated by a jumpsuit’s life-support system, which is also transferred to the mech’s hull, and you get a heat signature in the megawatt range—which, if left unmasked, is detectable up to three million kilometers out, or twenty AUs (one Astronomical Unit is the distance from the Earth to the Sun). This doesn’t count the heat from the mech’s jetpack, which obviously increases when the thrust is active.

Even with the thermal masking and obfuscation tech built into the ATLAS, the waste heat gives it an aura roughly six meters in every direction under the infrared band. Therefore, I had to choose a rock big enough to shield not just my mech, but its heat signature too. A rock with a surface I could readily grip, as I needed the ability to reposition it at will.

Lana and Hijak found similarly sized rocks and brought them back.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to continue on ahead without us, Lana?” I sent over the comm. “You know how valuable you are to us.”

“Not on your life,” she transmitted. “I’m going to fight with you. Because if you die, I’m dead anyway.”

She was probably right on that point.

I opened the cockpit and detached the PASS device from my jumpsuit. I tossed it into the void along our previous trajectory, and watched it drift forward through the ring belt, where it would continue indefinitely—at least until it collided with something.

I resealed the cockpit.

The decoy was in place.

The three of us jetted apart, separated by two klicks (signal reception was still quite strong, and our HUD maps updated perfectly). We formed the points of a slightly skewed triangle, and proceeded back toward the enemy. After traveling four klicks, we halted, staying behind our rocks.

The trap was set.

On my vision feed, I had rad mode turned on. This allowed me to see the radiation trails produced by the ATLAS 6s. When we had moved apart, I’d watched the three main radiation trails of our old trajectory diminish to nothingness. I couldn’t discern the radiation even now, but I knew the trails remained at the center of the triangle our new positions formed. This was good, because it meant the enemy wouldn’t see our new trails, at least as long as the pursuers kept reasonably close to the old trajectory. I couldn’t see the fresh trails made by Hijak or Lana—their mechs were too far away. The sole rad trail I
could
see was my own receding behind me. The only reason I knew Hijak and Lana were still out there was because of the dots on my HUD. Just as I knew the enemy was out there.

To this enemy, it should look like the three main rad trails continued onward, past our current positions, which was consistent with the receding PASS device. Only when the enemy mechs were well within our sight lines would they realize the trails branched back.

It was the perfect ambush.

You’d think the periodic updates transmitted by our aReals would give us away, but like our verbal comms, the signals were extremely weak, and utilized obfuscation tech to appear as background radiation. So there was no chance of discovery on that side of things.

I double-checked that the recoil buffers on all my weapons were set to full absorption while I waited. I didn’t want unexpected kickback to send me hurtling backward when I fired my first shots.

I remained very still. The mech’s atomic reactor automatically switched to low power mode, which further reduced my heat signature.

The moments passed. On the HUD map, I watched the red dots representing the enemy targets slowly approach.

More dots abruptly appeared, and rapidly spread far apart, fanning out ahead of the others.

Damn it.

The enemy mechs had launched support probes to cast a wider search net.

They sensed a trap.

“Rage, do you see that?” Hijak transmitted.

“I do. Guess we’ll be engaging sooner than we thought. Be ready.”

The red dots on the HUD map froze. That could mean only one thing: the enemy had discovered our trailing probe.

Things were getting better all the time.

“Just lost contact with my ASS,” Lana sent.

“Hope you wiped, first,” Hijak joked.

“Focus, people,” I transmitted. “We should be seeing their probes any second now.”

Extrapolating from the last known positions on my HUD, I realized that the probe on the far left of the enemy search net would pass close to me. The one on the far right would drift by Hijak. Lana was positioned well below the search plane, and probably would avoid encountering any of the probes.

Soon an enemy probe appeared, floating fifty meters diagonally down and to my left. I picked it out from the surrounding rocks by its tiny heat signature.

With the help of the targeting overlay built into my HUD, I trained my Gatling gun on it and fired.

“First probe, down,” I transmitted.

“Second probe, down,” Hijak sent.

“I haven’t spotted anything yet,” Lana sent.

“Forget the other probes,” I returned. “They know we’re here now. Engage.”

I loaded the serpent launchers into both my hands, crawled to the edge of my hide, and peered past.

I saw nothing but floating, revolving rocks.

“Hopper, emphasize heat signatures.”

Nothing.

No probes. No ATLAS 6s.

That was odd.

Then I spotted the two radiation trails, thin ethereal lines that fanned upward along my vision field and traveled far overhead . . .

I glanced up.

Two ATLAS 6 mechs bore down on my position.

The incoming missile alarm sounded.

On my map, I saw seven serpent missiles. All homing in on Hopper.

I thrust backward, abandoning the rock. While it might protect me from one or two missile blows if I could reposition myself fast enough, it definitely wouldn’t hold up against seven.

I let off a lateral burst and swung around toward the missiles. My momentum continued to carry me backward, and I heard the patter of small rocks on Hopper’s hull behind me.

I launched the Trench Coat. The metallic pieces surged forward and detonated two of the incoming missiles.

I swiveled Gatling guns into both hands and fired at the remaining missile cluster. Such a tactic was only feasible in the void, due to the nature of space combat, where one could jet away from a missile long enough to face it and shoot it down.

Got one. The explosion took out another beside it.

The missiles closed—

Another serpent detonated prematurely when it struck a small rock. The hot gases set off the missile beside it.

That left one last missile . . . less than ten meters away and closing fast.

The serpent proved a straightforward target at this range, and I easily took it down with my Gats.

But at that moment I came to a sudden dead stop.

I’d slammed into a large rock, cutting my momentum to zero.

The expanding gases of the detonating missile hit me, and Hopper hurtled backward, hitting the rock again, which had been sent flying back from my previous impact. The temperature inside the cockpit spiked to 50 degrees Celsius.

The missile alarm immediately sounded again.

My HUD map alerted me to another barrage of eight missiles.

Damn it.

I swiveled sideways and shoved off from the rock, away from the serpents. I switched my rear thrusters to full burn and released the Trench Coat. Once. Twice.

Flashes behind me told me that some of the coat pieces had struck. I deactivated my rear thrust and applied a lat burst to spin around, wanting to gauge the situation behind me.

The lead missile was only two body-lengths from me.

I shot it immediately with my Gatling, and the cascade effect of the explosion took out the remaining three.

The shockwave sent me reeling backward. The temperature spike in my cockpit approached 70 degrees Celsius this time. Not good. The loud whir of cooling fans nearly drowned out the heat alarms.

I activated gyroscopic thrusters to stabilize.

Only to hear the missile alarm activate yet
again
.

Five missiles on my tail, and gaining.

I swiveled around to face them. Small rocks constantly struck the back of my mech as momentum carried me away. I was basically clearing a path through the ring belt for the pursuing missiles. The impact of a larger rock forced Hopper’s head forward, a motion that was translated to the inner shell of the cockpit and jolted my own neck forward.

I launched the Trench Coat, detonating two of the missiles. I shot down two more with my Gats, and the final one blew up collaterally.

The missile alarm didn’t sound again, thankfully.

I pivoted in place, trying to get my bearings. My eyes alighted on a nearby rock, one of the biggest in the general area at four times the size of my mech.

I thrust straight toward that rock, taking cover behind it, noting the position of another large rock along the way.

“Sit-rep,” I sent over the comm.

“Engaged but fine,” Hijak answered.

“Busy,” Lana returned.

I couldn’t see Lana and Hijak of course, but the green dots on my HUD map told me exactly where they were. Hijak had two red dots on his tail, while Lana dealt with only one, along with the smaller dots of missiles.

Hijak and I had agreed to protect Lana. Leaving her with only one enemy to face was the best we could do right now. She’d just have to hang in there. If I went back to her at this moment, all I would do was lead the two ATLAS 6s on my tail straight to her.

Speaking of those ATLAS 6s, their red dots on my HUD hadn’t updated since the second missile barrage, and I had no idea where they were.

I positioned myself near the edge of the rock that formed my impromptu hide, scanning the battle space.

Other than the occasional flashes in the far distance, which revealed the general locations where Lana and Hijak fought, I saw nothing else between the drifting rocks. No heat signatures. No rad trails (save my own).

The gas giant and its ring belt were my sole companions.

For a moment I feared the pursuers had abandoned me to pursue either Lana or Hijak. It would be a simple matter to follow the remote flashes that marked the combats of my friends, after all.

But then a sixth sense told me to look down.

In the distance, between my legs, I saw two ATLAS 6s accelerating toward me, led by threads of white light . . .

Gatling fire.

The bullets drilled into Hopper’s hull at the incredibly deadly rate of one hundred rounds per second. I heard the constant ricochets from the cockpit. If I had been in an ATLAS 5, whose hull was not ballistically shielded, I would be dead.