Free Flight by J.A. Huss Page B

which was a mylar packet of something I didn't even bother trying to identify. I just sucked it down under duress and then drank a whole bottle of water. It took about an hour to get to the first station but now that we're here, it's worth it. I walk over to the large red sandstone outcropping that makes my heart ache for my home and peer over. Even though I know this is a fake world, the beauty of it stuns me silent. Like Earth.
    Ever since we landed, this place has been tugging me back to the blue marble and it's troubling in a way I'd rather not admit to right now. If fake Earth can create these feelings, what will happen when my boots are back on the ground for real? Will I have second thoughts about coming back?
    "Junco?" I turn and find Isten studying my face. "What's going on?"
    I have to swallow to make the words come out. "It looks like home, that's all." I turn around and go back to my rifle bag. "What are we shooting here, anyway?"
    "Whatever you want to use. Your favorite, I guess. I'm gonna use the TAC9." He smiles at me. "That's my favorite."
    I can't even muster a smile, so I just pull out Big Boy and lay out everything I need to take one cold-bore shot and make it perfect. Isten shows me where to stand so I can see the target across the valley. It's on the other side of a thicket of conifers, hardly visible with just my eyes, but through the spot scope it's as big as a house.
    When I'm ready he waves me on first. I lie down on my belly, then crawl up to the edge of the cliff until I'm as close as I can get and still keep the bipod level. I spread my legs, snuggle myself down into the sandy dirt, and start breathing. In out. Up down. In out stop. Up down stop. In out stop. Up down stop. That's how I do it. It's a little chant I have to block out the world and remind me to only shoot on stop.
    Once my breathing is normalized I reach back in my head for my last official data on previous engagement, input some new ammo ballistics, and then I let the infrared do its job as I do mine. I check conditions where I'm at, find the wind in the valley, then watch how it moves, as best as I can tell from what I can see, at the target.
    I slide up to the scope and line things up with the mil-dots, run the calculations real quick in my head, then press the output button to see if the one-shot agrees with what I just came up with.
    It almost does.
    In cases like this I trust myself over a machine. I adjust the scope for my own personal observations and get back into my breathing. In out stop. Up down stop. In out stop. Up down stop.
    I take my shot and watch with a smile as the target flashes purple.
    Kill.
    I scoot back on my belly until I have dead space between myself and the target, then get to my feet and smile at Isten for the first time today.
    "Nice job, Snowbird."
    "I'm sure you'll do almost as well, Isten. Don't worry."
    "Honey, watch and learn from the master."
    I wave him on and he repeats what I just did almost in every detail. His rifle is self-contained as far as DOPE goes, but I can tell he's trying to make it look more complicated than it is. There's no way Isten could shoot as well as me using a manual scope. Not if they never taught him how. And even if he did watch me in sniper school, he never actually did the training–
    The pop of his shot jerks me back to reality.
    "Kill, baby." He scoots back and stands up. "And it didn't take me all fucking morning to get it done, so huh!"
    I smile at him. "Nice job. I mean, for a guy who relies on a computer to tell him when to shoot."
    He nods his head up and down at me, a scowl on his face. "Yeah, you wanna do this, Junco? You wanna little competition, then?"
    I let out a giant grin that spreads across my face and up into my forehead it's so wide. "Isten, you could never match me when it comes to this. You might own me in fighting, but in long-range shooting, I own you. I'm not a sniper, I'm an assassin. And that means the only time I take two shots is if there are