Read Atlas for Free Online Page B

to the app store on the Net, and found one.
    After a while, I started to browse different sections of the guide, basically ignoring the Gustav guy. Somehow I ended up on the spec-ops section. The more I read about the MOTHs, the more I wanted to be one. These guys were tacticians, corpsmen, astronauts, snipers and commandos rolled into one. Their specialty was "direct action:" short-duration operations of surgical precision conducted in hostile, denied, or diplomatically sensitive environments. If the UC wanted someone seized, recovered, or terminated quietly, and without stirring up a political storm, they called in the MOTHs. They were the special forces of the special forces.
    When Gustav was done, a PPA herded us down the corridor to the brain scan hall, where we were given the 'vocational aptitude' brain scan. A lot of people had already taken this scan apparently, at local recruiting centers and whatnot, so the waiting room had only about fifty people in it. Shaw had taken it beforehand too, so we exchanged Ids and promised to meet up in the mess hall for lunch later.
    When it was done, Tahoe, Alejandro and I hurried over to the mess hall with ten minutes to spare for lunch. Disappointingly, Shaw wasn't there. After rushing through a ham-and-cheese sandwich, the three of us made our way to the job selection hall. Before we got there, I managed to convince Tahoe and Alejandro to try out for the MOTHs with me. "It's the hardest training in the world," I told them. "But we'll get to do some crazy missions. Jumping out of starships, sneaking behind enemy lines, capturing privateers."
    Tahoe seemed excited by the prospect, Alejandro not so much. I knew he'd join though, if only for me. I'm not sure that would be enough to get him through the training, which sounded ridiculously difficult. He'd definitely have to dig deep within himself.
    We all would.
    At the job selection hall, we found ourselves once more at the back of the queue. Again no sign of Shaw. A computer voice called out whenever a cubicle was free, and eventually I was paired up with a job counselor. He looked to be around fifty-five. His face seemed perpetually locked in a scowl.
    Well, at least he wasn't a robot.
    His eyes defocused for a moment, and I knew he was accessing my embedded Id. Probably had one of those implanted aReals.
    "Morning, son," the counselor said. His voice sounded tired.
    "Good morning."
    "What's good about it?"
    I didn't answer.
    "So, you chose the Navy. Two ratings are available to you. Guaranteed Job and Undesignated. Now if—"
    "I want to be a MOTH."
    "You will speak only when I ask you a question. Do you understand?"
    "I want to be a MOTH."
    The counselor clenched his jaw.
    "You don't understand my role here, do you?" He seemed about ready to give me an epic chewing out, but then his features softened, and he sighed. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today. So. The MOTHs."
    "Yes."
    "MObile Tactical Human. Fancy name for a spec-op with a jetpack. They handle operations on air, sea, land, and space. Direct action, mostly."
    "I know what they do."
    "Do you now? It's all fun and games to you, isn't it?" He took a long, leisurely sip of coffee. "I don't know what we'd do without this stuff. Coffee I mean. It's the ambrosia of the people. The lifeblood. Nations have fought wars over coffee." He took another sip. "Do you think you could do it? Go to war for your country over coffee?"
    "If that's what my country wanted me to do, sir."
    "You'd kill people, for coffee?"
    I hesitated. "Yes, sir."
    "Could you kill a man in front of his wife and all his children, for coffee?"
    "Yes sir."
    "What about a beautiful woman? A model, standing in the middle of the street. Waiting for your convoy to arrive. Bombs strapped to her chest. Could you take her out?"
    "Yes sir."
    "What about the poor, unknowing child, whose father has given him a grenade to deliver to the men who've just kicked down his front door. Could you take the kid out? All in the name of